With Good Intentions

Chapters

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17

Chapter 1

*Click*

The snap of the light switch filled the dark basement. A moment of silence and darkness followed as the electric current traveled through the now completed circuit, warming the filaments of the overhead bulbs. One by one they flickered to life, illuminating the spacious workshop below. The stairs creaked softly as their owner descended, each sound corresponding to his hoof touching the next step. Finally he reached the landing, and he paused as he stared at all the equipment in front of him from the shadows. A tool bench, each instrument organized from left to right by frequency of use and importance. Wrenches, screwdrivers, nutdrivers, calipers, drafting scales, a solder gun, and many others were all stowed either in drawers or on hooks, ready to be used at a moment’s notice. A few feet to the right was a tall cage-like device. Its base was a wide dull grey circular platform, with a smaller similarly shaped ring of metal hanging overhead by an arched spine of brass. Six brass arches, three on each side, equidistant and exactly perpendicular to each other, jutted out of the machine’s spine like ribs, with there being enough room for somepony to step into the device if they chose to. The control box to the device, with its large black dial and several smaller buttons, hung on the wall by its cable on a hook. On the farthest side of the basement from the stallion was a walk-in fume box, with a small window through which one could see the process of chemical reactions take place. To the left on the wall was a large cupboard, each stocked with several milliliters of just about every chemical imaginable.

The old stallion mused that he had just about every means in the world to create something, anything worth his time and value. Stepping into the light, the earth pony’s square shaped glasses reflected their rays momentarily before he walked past the focal point, and his steely grey eyes appeared behind his lenses. His coat, normally a color similar to dark saw dust, blended with the hue of the bulbs projecting down on him. His Cutie Mark, an Erlenmeyer flask full of green liquid overlaying a gear with four radial arms, was slightly faded in color. There was no doubt of course that his Mark had aged with him; as his younger years left him, so too had the more vibrant aspects faded. There was, however, another reason entirely. He had no idea what he was going to do as he opened a drawer, removed a thin roll of drafting paper, and placed it on the workbench, spreading it open with his hooves. He took his drafting pencil in his mouth, and waited, the graphite posed. The minutes passed painfully slow as the inspiration he was looking for stubbornly refused to come. No matter. Perhaps he’d picked the wrong medium: chemical, not mechanical. Scrolling through his photographic memory he took stock of his many vials. Organic, synthetic, acids, bases, reactants, solutions, precipitates. Nothing stuck out to him. Nothing unique caught his mind’s eye. Finally with a dejected exclamation and a sigh, he turned away from the workbench in defeat. “Useless,” he muttered to himself as he trudged back up the stairs, and the lights went out behind him.

Most ponies would find a reason to stay at home a nice proposition. The old stallion could understand the reasons behind such a desire of others, even if he paradoxically didn't understand it at all himself. He walked from the basement door back down the hallway he had come from not but a few minutes before. Walking without seeing, he silently passed through a spacious room, which the windows in the rafters might have helped to make a bright and jovial place under different circumstances. The skies however were overcast in this region a majority of the time, and the furniture scattered throughout the room was covered with white linen shrouds to hold the gathering dust away. No one but the stallion had lived in the house for a very long time. To be fair, he hadn't lived there in a very long time either. While this was his ancestral home, and while his town, the dreary hamlet of Pferdshire, lay just outside its walls, they were not truly his. There was only one place in the world he could call both his city and his home: Canterlot.

Canterlot. Its shining spires. Its wonderful gilded towers.

He sighed to himself again: it was the home he could never return to, not while his sentence was still in effect.

Seemingly in response to his thoughts, a golden flash appeared before his face, soaking the entire foyer he stood in with rays of light that accentuated the colors that were at the moment dull and dim. A scroll tumbled out of the ether, landing with a bounce on the tile floor in front of him. The old stallion glanced down at the roll of parchment. He had a very good guess of who had sent it merely by the color of the magic, but the wax seal keeping the letter closed confirmed his thoughts: a sun with revolving arms of orange light. It was her.

Picking up the letter with his mouth, he then walked over to a small round table near the front door. After breaking open the seal, he carefully spread the letter open wide and skimmed its contents.

I hope you are well, my former student…I am doing everything in my power to convince Luna to reverse your exile…her position in the balance of power is still legally young, and I can’t just override her authority…Please try to understand...Cadence has just announced her engagement to Shining Armor.

Here he had to stop and reread the last sentence for a moment. He continued on.

Cadence has just announced her engagement to Shining Armor…I could at least be able to offer a 48 hour reprieve for the wedding if you chose to come and support her…I’m sorry things have to be this way for now. Send your reply by post as soon as possible. It will reach my hooves eventually.

Princess Celestia, Guardian of all Equinity, co-ruler of Equestria.

The old stallion drew away from the letter as he considered all the ramifications it contained. Cadence was getting married. There was a chance he could be able to return, not for just two days, but perhaps altogether if Celestia was able to convince her sister-

Then he remembered why it was he had been exiled in the first place, and his attitude became even more somber than it had been before. For what he had done, for the total devastation he had almost wrought, there was no redemption. Even if legally he could be redeemed, his career was already over: any return would only see him second-guessed by everypony and everyone around him. Besides, it was time for fresher, younger shoulders to take up the reins. At least out in the country he couldn’t hear the half-whispers or the judgments. In the end, though, if he could somehow go back to Canterlot, all opinions about him made moot, tabula rasa, he could never forgive himself for what he had done.

So unprofessional. So sloppy.

Banishing the thought from his mind, something else occurred to him: he should have made more immediate note of it, but he was running low on screws.

Finally, an objective: something to distract himself from the monotonous lack of task or inspiration. Even if it was only for an hour, it would at least mean he could escape his manor and mausoleum.

After he had prepared himself with a small pouch of bits, he trotted slowly over to the front door and swung it open. A sharp gust of November wind burst into the house, causing the letter he had received to fly into the air before once again falling to the floor with a bounce. Glancing back to look at it for a moment, he shrugged a little: he could pick it up later.

Closing his front door behind him, the old stallion looked at the landscape around him. The sky was full of clouds that looked like they were boiling over. The mountains to the north seemed to draw a few clouds away from their journey towards the east, making them swirl in between the peaks, cut off from their fellows. Down the path that led to his front gate, and consequently down the hill the manor sat on, lay the outskirts of Pferdshire, all two-dozen or so buildings of it. As he walked to his front gate, he got lost in thinking about what type of screws he needed.

Tapping screws. Five sixteenths of an inch. Fifty per bit. Better make it five sets of fifty: don’t want to run out any time soon.

A scream pealed across the landscape, shattering all previous train of the thought the earth pony had had. It had come from over the moors behind the manor. Life and purpose entered into him a second after, and he surged from a plodding trot into a furious gallop as he tore around the house towards the back gate. His hooves almost tore up the grass as he pounded across the lawn with heavy hooffalls.

Something was happening out there.

Somepony could be in danger.

Thank Celestia, something that finally merited his attention.

Try as she might, she couldn't seem to get away from them. They were always on her hooves, but never where she could see them. The unicorn mare, cerulean coat covered in dirt and with chipped hooves, ran through a labyrinth of sloping earth and long grass, while just behind her three trails of upturned earth gave chase. Panting in terror, she turned back to look at just how far away her pursuers were when a large paw burst out of the ground and tried to grab at her back hooves. She yanked her hooves up and screamed out in fright, then began to gallop even harder.

A fork appeared in her path, the left looping back around, and the other path abruptly turning to the right. She barreled down the right fork without a second thought. The trails of tilled soil turned after her, not giving her even a foot of distance. After she turned to check on their progress, she looked forward again to find the last thing she could have possibly wanted: a rocky, boxed in dead end. The adrenaline in her system seemed to all but drain away with her hope of escape, and she slowed to a stop as she approached the wall looming above her.

She heard the three distinct sounds of her pursuers erupting up above the ground, shaking themselves off and snorting for fresh air, and she whimpered a little to herself. As she turned to face them, the three Diamond Dogs blinked their eyes rapidly, and sniffed the air.

“S-Stand back,” the mare try to say with bluster, but it fell utterly flat as her fear betrayed her, “Don’t you know who you’re dealing with?”

The smaller two of the three looked up to the pack leader, and then the three of them chuckled stupidly.

“Yes, we know who you are,” the smallest one said, “You unicorn. You find gems, make us rich.”

“Not just any unicorn,” she tried to continue with her boast, “For I am the Great and Powerful Trixie! Leave me in peace now, and I may yet spare you a gruesome fate!”

The three dogs looked at each other again, and another round of guffawing ensued. “You think we stupid?” the ringleader asked, “Diamond Dogs dumb.” He then pointed at her with his right paw, “You came to us. We dumb. You stupid!”

“Leave me be, or your doom is assured!” she tried to bellow.

The dogs slowly began to approach her, a glint of evil in their eyes.

“Wait,” she yelled as she was forced to push her back up against the pit wall, “If you let me go, I will shower you with the riches you want! I can make it fall from the sky!”

“We no think so,” the third, tall, lankiest dog declared.

Suddenly, something small hit the top of his exceedingly large brow and slid off to the ground in front of him. All four of them stared down at the object: it was a solitary golden bit.

The lanky tall dog picked it up between his claws and bit into it suspiciously. Suddenly his pupils dilated, and he looked giddily to his peers, “This real gold!”

Trixie just gawked at the humble bit of currency in the dog’s paw.

The smallest dog shook his paw at her, “Do it again!”

Miraculously, a second bit fell from the sky directly onto his awaiting scalp. The little dog happily swiped it from off his head and bit onto the edge to confirm its authenticity, and he giggled as he looked to his equally blessed compatriot.

The ringleader’s eyes narrowed, and he growled, “Hang on. Her horn no glow.”

Trixie, having been internally thanking whatever lucky star she had been born under, realized that her fifteen extra seconds of freedom had just been used up, and that she hadn't tried the least bit to escape. The two other dogs, abruptly stopped staring at their magically appearing treasure, and then looked to their leader mystified.

“Then who was gold?” the lanky dog ask in wonder.

Abruptly he was crushed from above as a large brown mass caused him to crumble to the ground.

“Well damn,” the old earth pony exclaimed as he sprang off the crumpled unconscious mess of a dog he had just used as a landing pad. Leaping over the ringleader’s head, he tackled the smaller dog to the ground and slammed his forehoof into his jaw, then slammed the dog’s head into the ground. As he got up and brushed himself off, he scoffed to himself, “I suppose we know now that even stupidity has its limits.”
The ringleader gazed in surprise at how quickly this earth pony had incapacitated his fellows. The stallion then stood on his hindlegs, moved into some sort of fighting stance and brought his forehooves up, with his right hoof leading and his left close to his chest. The dog could see plain as day that his opponent was old, but what he could also see was that his opponent was shaking slightly from the exertion of taking out his mates. The mud pony didn't have much fight left in him for long.

The ringleader smiled, flashed his canines, and charged his enemy, loping forward using his large gorilla-like arms to propel himself forward.

The old stallion glanced towards the unicorn for a split second, then returned his gaze to his charging opponent, “When I give you the signal, blind him.”

“What?” she stammered, but he didn't hear her over the howling war cry of the dog barreling down on him. The dog leapt up into the air, lunging towards him. It was only at the last minute that he dove to the right out of the way. Realizing his mistake, the ringleader hit the ground and immediately tried to stop himself before he hit the stony wall filling his vision. The stallion landed on his front hooves just as he had planned, cocked his backlegs while they were still in the air, and released them with a powerful buck. The blow impacted right into the dogs ribs, and he whimpered in surprise and pain as it hurled him off balance. Wasting no time, the earth pony leapt on to his dazed enemy’s back, and yanked his enemy’s head up, “NOW!”

The unicorn huddled back against the rock wall behind her, paralyzed with fear, and didn't give off so much as spark of light.

“Oh horseapples,” the old stallion spat as the dog beneath him began to recover. Injured and enraged, the ringleader stood up, the earth pony hanging on by his neck, and he began to try and rip him off. The stallion kept a loose enough grip that he was able to mostly maneuver around the dog’s claws, but he still managed to get a few glancing gashes on his back. Doing his best to ignore the pain, he tried to reach around the dog’s neck to put him into an improvised sleeper hold. It wasn't working.

Somehow their struggle had brought them closer to the unicorn, who could only look up in abject terror. The dog finally stepped within swiping distance of the mare, and he roared in frustration as he tried once again unsuccessfully to pluck the pony from his back. This was enough to send her over the edge. Shrieking in fear, she released an enormous burst of magenta light. Since no one had been expecting the magical outburst, everyone, including the unicorn, was blinded by the great flash of energy.

The ringleader was finally able to reach around and toss the stallion off his back in spite of his blindness, leaving the pony to tumble gracelessly over the trails of upturned earth left in the dogs’ wake. Unable to banish the flashed image of light from his retinas, the stallion closed his eyes. As he righted himself, he perked his ears up, straining them to listen for every sound possible. To his left he heard soft whining, and the sound of rough skin scraping across fur. Then he heard the sniffing. At first it was muffled slightly as the dog probed the air for his scent. Then the sound became clearer, and the sniffing more incessant. Too little too late did the stallion realize that the ringleader had everything going in his favor. He was old, injured, and blinded, and the dog was used to being in environments with little to no light, meaning its hearing and smell were honed to crystal clarity.

I’m a damned fool, he thought to himself, but then another thought crossed his mind. Wagering his position was already compromised by his scent, the old stallion yelled to the unicorn mare, “I need fireworks!”

He heard the Diamond Dog snarl, and he heard his lumbering pace as he approached.

“Aim the fireworks towards the sound of my voice,” he called out.

There was no response, only the bounding approach of his enemy.

“Trixie,” he roared out authoritatively, “Give me fireworks now or I will die!”

He could practically feel the dog’s breath on his muzzle. He heard his war cry. As he leapt out of the dog’s path of attack, he heard a fast approaching screech and whine, and he covered his ears as he fell to the ground.

A dull explosion like a mortar went off not a few feet away with a loud but muffled ‘whump’. When he was sure it was safe, he uncovered his ears; the ringleader was howling himself deaf. On a whim, the old stallion opened his eyes, and was pleasantly surprised to find that the majority of the blindness had already faded, though he was still seeing sporadic after-images every time he blinked. Wincing against the pain from the muscles in his back, he trotted away from the solitary Diamond dog, past his still unconscious brethren, and towards the unicorn mare. She was breathing raggedly from the stress and fear that was still coursing through her, and her horn remained pointed at the howling dog.

“He’s not going anywhere for a while,” the earth pony declared as he approached her, “but he will retaliate as soon as his senses return to him.”

Trixie slowly looked up towards him, and her breathing began to even out.

“We’re defenseless here, but my house is nearby,” he continued, “I suggest that we retreat there in the meantime.”

After a few seconds of just looking at the older stallion, she nodded her head slowly. “Alright,” she exclaimed, then after a pause and a clearing of her throat, she responded more confidently, “If you insist.”

Chapter 2

“You know, I didn’t need your help,” Trixie declared as she followed her newest earth pony acquaintance into his home.

“Is that a fact,” he replied as he walked away from her, heading further into the house, “because from my point of view it looked as if you allowed yourself to get cornered, then gave up all hope of escape and resigned yourself to your fate.”

The magician shut the front door behind her with a little more effort than was necessary. “Trixie had them right where she wanted them,” she replied irritably.

The stallion stopped and whirled around to give her an intense look of frustration; Trixie shrank back.

“You cowered like a little filly when you had the perfect opportunity to strike, causing both yourself and I prolonged exposure to an opponent who could have easily killed either of us or myself alone. It was sloppy and unprofessional. Even with no training in combat I would have expected more mettle from somepony who at least had a horn to defend herself with!”

Stunned by his sudden explosion, she remained rooted to the spot she stood in.

The stallion snorted angrily and turned away from her, “ ‘The Great and Powerful Trixie’ would have still had those dogs right where she wanted them from a cell a few hundred feet below ground.”

As he walked away from her, his taunt finally snapped her back to reality, and she snarled to herself. Stomping after him, she saw the stallion disappear behind a door a few seconds before she reached him, so she stood in front of it to yell after him, “Hey! I don’t care who you are or what you might have done for me; you don’t know me!”

“Oh?” the stallion said with a muffled grunt as she heard him struggling with something, “Try me.”

She puffed her chest out and smirked at the door, “The Great and Powerful Trixie was born in the star studded city of Las Pegasus: the daughter of a burlesque dancer and a crime lord. When she was old enough, mother taught Trixie all there was to know about the stage, but made sure Trixie also learned the greatest illusion magicks the world has ever seen: these having been passed down to her by her grandmother, a renowned gypsy seer, whose memory inspired Trixie to travel the world performing astonishing spectacles and wonders!”

The old stallion unlocked the door and looked out at the mare with an expression that seemed to say ‘Are you kidding me?’

As he passed her, Trixie saw he had wrapped a set of bandages around his back and midsection. When he offered no response other than the look, the unicorn mare pressed him, “Well? What snide comment have you to say to Trixie?”

He slowly turned to look her straight in the eye and simply replied, “You were born in Vanhoofer, Miss Lulamoon.”

Trixie’s eyes grew wide, all her confidence visibly drained, “How do you-“

“Your mother stayed at home to help raise you and your two older siblings, and your father was a tax accountant. Being the youngest by a wide margin, you have a pathological need to draw attention to yourself in order to feel emotionally stimulated by the ponies around you, which also might explain your bombastic stage personality: it is the idealized personality of the mare you wish to be, and what you believe others find to be a magnetic persona.”

Trixie vacantly stared at the stallion, who only stared back at her unflinchingly.

“Who are you?” she finally asked, her tone much more subdued than usual.

“Let’s start with your first question,” he said in return, ‘How do I know all this?’ There’s a rural town far to the south of here that you passed through several months ago, one which up until recently I had tabs on because of a recent and unprecedented increase of strange events in the region, including the likes of an Ursa Minor attack that coincided with your visit there.” The corner of his mouth became a little upturned as he gave her a moment to think, which he knew was unnecessary, “I expect you know the town of which I speak.”

Trixie looked to the side and grumbled to herself venomously, “Ponyville.”

He nodded, “Correct. Now, onto your second question: who am I?” He took a moment to sit back on his haunches, and ripped through the bandages he had just applied. He then brought them around to look at them: drops of fresh blood were scattered across the mesh surface where they had pressed into his back. “Excellent,” he muttered to himself, at which Trixie looked at him as if he were mad, “With as little time as we have names are meaningless. What matters is this: we are in danger, and I have a plan. Do as I say and we might survive tonight.”

The manor was still; not a thing moved. The twilight hours were beginning and the outside light was dying, waning away as night approached. The basement was dark and cool, and also an ideal point of entry for the likes of the burrowing Diamond Dogs: no one ever saw them coming, and by the time they understood what was happening they were already dragged below the surface to be put to work. That, however, was where this time was different: there would be no prisoners. There was no desire for profit from this bit of handiwork, only a thirst for retribution.

Three holes burst up from the workshop floor with a spray of pebbles and clods of dirt, and out of each quietly slunk a dog. They sniffed the air furiously, their heads turning this way and that. The stallion’s scent was everywhere, but there was a distinctive tang in the immediate area.

Blood.

“Where he at?” the lanky one asked impatiently as he continued sniffing.

The ringleader slapped him on the back of the head hard and hissed, “Quiet! He could hear us.”

The three dogs continued their search around the room, their night vision cutting through most of the darkness. Slowly they made their way towards the other side of the room, passing the workbench and heading towards the fume box. The smallest dog was bringing up the rear, sniffing closer to the workbench than the others. He could smell blood just as the others had, but there was a second source nearby that confounded him.

Then he saw a glimmer in the darkness. Inside a strange contraption just a few feet away sat a small pouch of golden bits.

All thoughts about the outside situation changed as the little dog’s greed took over. The bag was his! He’d be rich! Richer than the others! He just had to seize and hide it! The dog leapt at the coinbag, giggling a little to himself as he scooped it up in his paws.

“Imbecile,” he heard a voice breathe, and then there was the sound of a button being pressed.

Before the dog knew what was happening, the contraption he was in lit up, blinding both him and his compatriots. When the light from the machine had faded, the smaller dog was gone, having vanished with the light that had surrounded him.

Taken aback by the sudden burst of light, the lanky dog barely had time to process that they had been tricked before a hoof reached around to his face. A handkerchief soaked in an obnoxiously sweet aroma was shoved directly onto his nose. He tried to struggle and call out to his ringleader, but his strength was quickly leaving him. Everything went black after that.

Once the large dog could see again, the first thing he noticed was the old stallion, standing confidently in front of a flight of stairs, bandages around his midsection and an eyepatch on his face to protect from the burst of light, which he was now in the process of tossing aside.

“Well, you came to kill me, didn’t you?” he said, then he smirked, “Come and get me then!” and he disappeared up the staircase.

The ringleader was stunned only momentarily, but then his rage returned to him in full measure. With a furious growl and a great bark, the Diamond Dog tore across the room on all fours, climbing the stairs four at a time with each bound. He burst up to the main floor, blowing the door in front of him off its hinges to fly down the hallway to the right. Sniffing the air, he lumbered after the freshest scent, jumping over what remained of the door he had just destroyed.

As he bounded into the doorframe of a room on the right, he saw the stallion waiting on the other side in the opposite doorway, taunting him, “Keep up! How do you expect to catch me if I’m always outrunning you?”

The dog exhaled deeply, and a fire raged in his eyes. “Come here you damn horse!” he raggedly yelled, and he burst forward to grab his prey.

The stallion disappeared down the hallway, and this time his enemy was not far behind. His heart was beating in his ears. He was close to out of breath. This idea, by Celestia, had better work. He bolted into the kitchen, coasting on the smooth tile floor, and ran to hide behind the center island where he found Trixie nervously rubbing her front hooves together.

“Is it ready?” he wheezed as he caught his breath.

The unicorn mare, a jumble of anger and fear, whispered heatedly to him, “Of course it’s ready! What, did you think I couldn’t-“

A deep growl shut the both of them up very quickly, and they waited with bated breath. He braced against the wall, and she did everything in her power to avoid getting too close to the edge of the island. The ringleader had followed the scent to the room, and as he entered with a deliberate, lumbering pace he sniffed the air softly. The air was full of fear. That pleased him to no end, and he bared his teeth as he thought about it. He slowly loped into the room, looking for the source of the scent, his most immediate object of hatred.

The old earth pony looked Trixie in the eyes, then silently mouthed, “three, two, one."

The diamond dog’s eyes automatically jerked his attention to the stallion when he suddenly moved out from his cover behind the kitchen island.

“Here I am,” he declared simply, now without a hint of bravado, “What are you waiting for?”

Satisfied that his prey was finally right where he wanted him, the dog lumbered forward, barking angrily as he did. Once his paws found traction on the tile floor, he barreled straight for the stallion. Without warning, the unicorn mare from earlier popped up from behind the island, and with a burst of her magic’s signature magenta light she flung up a metal cooking tray at him like a catapult. A gigantic cloud of red dust hit the charging dog straight in the snout and eyes, and he howled in pain. Losing balance when he instinctively reached for his face, he stumbled and rolled end over end across the floor. The stallion effortlessly sidestepped the sliding dog, allowing him to collide with the wall at the back of the kitchen. As he tried to pick himself up, he couldn’t tell which was worse: trying to keep his eyes closed, or leaving them open. The unmistakable smell of chili powder infused every breath he took, burning his lungs and throat. His eyes were tearing up profusely. He pawed at his face and mewled in pain, even as he tried to keep his bloodshot eyes open to look for his enemy.

“Everything but his hearing is no longer a problem,” the earth pony declared to Trixie, and the dog’s ears perked up, “Keep your distance. He’s dangerous, in pain, and unpredictable now!”

The Diamond Dog blindly rushed in their direction, snarling and barking as he did. He easily flung a small cutting table out of his way and across the room, and aimed directly for the last place he had heard voices. With a hiss and grunt on the stallion’s part and a small scream of surprise on the showmare’s, they leapt away from each other out of the dog’s path. The old stallion stopped with a skidding slide in from of the pantry, while Trixie was forced back up against the wall’s extended counter, the back of her head just barely touching a row of pans hanging from above.

The dog careened through where they had been and slammed into the island. His impact caused it to tilt off balance as he ripped part of it out of the floor, and a gigantic caved in section was made in the wood where he directly hit it. His momentum still carrying him forward, he completely flipped over the top of what remained of the island and landed somewhere close to the kitchen entrance with a mighty thud. There was a brief moment of silence before the Diamond Dog, undeterred by what had happened, leapt onto what remained of the island, and howled with frothing rage, “I kill you! I rip you! I grind your bones!”

Without another thought, Trixie glanced up at the rack of pans above her and ripped them off their hooks, desperately flinging the cast iron missiles at the crazed hound. They struck him haphazardly, punching him in the side, the arm, and on the shoulder, while the fourth missed him entirely to embed into the wall’s wooden paneling. The fifth pan hit the side of the dog’s jaw, which was accompanied by a sharp cracking sound. The Diamond Dog spun off his perch, and fell to the floor once again.

The house once again lay still, as the only sounds travelling through it now were the punctuated heavy breathing of the two ponies. The old stallion picked himself up slowly with a grunt, and then looked around the room at all the damage that had been done to his home.

Meanwhile, Trixie walked around what remained of the kitchen island and slowly approached the unconscious hulking dog. There was a strange glimmer in her eyes, and her face couldn’t quite pick an emotion to fully convey. A strange mixture of sorrow, anger, and fear swirled murkily within her. Her horn lit up, and the pan that had been lodged in the wall, the largest of the five, was ripped free of its spot and flew slowly toward her. The field around the pan wavered erratically, while the light of her magic grew brighter, and with its greater intensity came less quaking. She struck the dog on the back with a relatively weak swing. Then a growling sob escaped her lips and she began to swing harder, yelling at him as she did, “Thought you could make me your slave? Thought you could just double-cross me? Well, who’s got the last laugh now, you stupid son of a-“

“Enough!” the earth pony exclaimed as he briskly approached her, then firmly tapped her horn with his hoof. Trixie flinched at the sudden touch by reflex, and the aural field around the pan faded enough to allow it to fall through to the ground with a clatter. “He’s down and out,” he continued, “From the sound of it you already broke his jaw, and there’s no point in trying to break anything else.”

“He just tried to kill us,” Trixie fired back angrily, and she snatched up another pan, “He wanted to use me! He deserves this!”

“True, he deserves punishment,” he replied, “but continue what you were doing and you will become a murderer. Are you willing to become that to satisfy yourself?”

The unicorn mare looked back at the old stallion defiantly for a few seconds, and then her gaze turned back to the fallen dog. After what felt like an eternity of indecision, she let the second pan purposefully fall out of her grasp.

“Wise choice,” the old stallion commented before he reach down to flip the dog over with a grunt of exertion, “Revenge is a sucker’s game anyway: you invest too much for far too little in return, and what little you get back always loses value to the point of worthlessness in the end.”

After momentarily examining the dog’s body for an idea of his injuries, he then checked the crook of the dog’s left arm, and afterward the right.

“So now what,” Trixie asked as she watched him work, unsure of what he was doing, “As soon as he and the other two dogs wake up, they’ll just come back for us again.”

“We only have two to immediately worry about,” the earth pony replied as he stood up and adjusted his glasses, “Besides, just because we let him live doesn't mean there aren't other ways to make sure he never bothers us again.”

The ringleader stirred awake slowly. His entire respiratory tract felt like it was burning from the inside out. He heard whispers coming from everywhere: from murmurs miles away to the screaming voices inside his bones. Every breath he took he saw fire come out of his mouth. He tried to sit up, but he couldn’t move his arms or legs. He was at least able to look around, as his neck seemed to be working just fine. His vision was red hued as he searched for where he was. He was back in the horse’s basement, only a few feet from the hole he and the other dogs had dug. He could see the whispers twirling around on the floor, dancing in the dust.

Without warning a deep voice bellowed into his ear, “LOOK AT ME!”

In a panic the dog turned to quickly look towards the source of the voice, his heart racing at the overwhelming stimulation he was receiving. He saw the horse’s face, but he was different now. The lenses of his glass split open like double doors, revealing two sunken grey eyeballs. They slowly morphed until each had a toothy mouth and a jagged elongated tongue, each of which whipped around, but also constantly trying to lash out and cut him open with their jagged tips.

His mouth subdivided, creating two orifices, one for each side of his face to speak out of. The dog screamed in terror as he tried desperately to claw away from the abomination only a few inches from his face, but he was paralyzed.

“LISTEN WELL,” the horse’s voice boomed, “IF YOU EVER RETURN HERE, I WILL KILL YOU. IF YOU EVER HARM ANOTHER PONY, I WILL FIND YOU. I AM EVERYWHERE; I AM EVERY PONY. LAY A PAW ON THEM AND I WILL REACH OUT AND KILL YOU.”

The voices in the dog’s head wailed, the fire in his bones burned like the desert sun, and he cowered and screamed in fear. The demonic horse’s face drew closer, its eye tongues reached for his jaw and grasped it. Lightning bolts of pain passed through him, and he almost passed out from sensory overload.

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?” he said with even greater menace in his voice.

“ESH,” the dog shrieked for his life through his broken jaw and hanging tongue.

The presence drew away and disappeared, but the voice still rang out through the fog of red, “I HAVE SPARED YOU ONLY THIS ONCE. I WILL BE LISTENING. I WILL BE WATCHING.”

The ringleader, crazed out of his mind, cried to himself and curled up into ball, rocking back and forth in sheer terror. The lanky dog, seeing his leader cowed and humiliated, looked on in fear from his prison within Trixie’s bubble. When the old stallion approached, he visibly flinched.

Silently gazing up at the floating dog, he murmured, “Release him.”

Trixie, who also couldn’t help but stare at the earth pony uncertainly, abruptly lifted the spell, and the lanky dog fell to his knees.

“Just something to keep in mind,” the old stallion said offhandedly as he looked down at him, “those statements also apply to you too.” He then turned to look back at the larger dog, “Take your fellow and leave.”

Wordlessly the dog scrambled around the stallion and away, grabbed his sobbing comrade, and disappeared down the closest hole he could reach. Each of the tunnels then quickly caved in behind the dogs as they left, and the earth sunk down as it settled. The stallion let go of a small breath as soon as he knew they were gone.

Trixie couldn't tear her eyes away from him after seeing what he had done, but finally she was able to quietly ask, “What did you give him?”

The stallion turned and looked at her, his face devoid of any readable emotion, “A few cc’s of muscle relaxant.”

“And the screaming?” she continued worriedly.

“A controlled dosage of Lysergic Acid Diethylamide,” he responded as he went over to the workbench, picked up the two used syringes, and trotted over to a special container near his chemical cabinet and gingerly placed them inside, “I personally wouldn't recommend it, no matter the dose.”

“Right.”

An awkward silence fell as each of them wasn't quite sure how to proceed with no immediate danger present.

“I suppose you don’t have anywhere to stay for the night,” the stallion said abruptly, then made his way back towards the stairs, “I’ll prepare one of the guest rooms for you.”

“Yeah. OK,” Trixie replied, distracted by her own worries and thoughts.

Later that night, after taking a much needed shower, Trixie lay in bed. Even though it was the softest thing she’d felt in months she couldn't sleep. She stared at the ceiling, her head overflowing with her thoughts, and listened to the sounds of the house. The stallion had saved her life, true enough, but she couldn't help but feel afraid of him. Who was he? He had never offered a name. Was he some kind of assassin? He had money, and all those chemicals. He had training of some kind in hoof to hoof combat. Would he do something to her? To all these questions about her enigmatic host she had no answer, and that keep her up for a long time.

Chapter 3

Trixie groaned softly to herself when she saw sunlight through the lids of her eyes. She unconsciously turned over, drawing the covers surrounding her closer, and fully intended to return to the beautiful embrace of sleep. Her brain, however, had other plans. Her memories of what had happened to her the previous day began to reconstruct themselves in her mind’s eye. The Diamond Dogs. The stallion whose house she was sleeping in. The one who had scared her attackers off, and whose identity she did not know. She groaned to herself again, and slowly her eyes opened. The two windows to her left were letting the rising sun’s light through, shining into the room with far too much illumination for her liking, the closest window shining over her bed, and the other on the opposite end of the room, revealing a fireplace and mantel there. A painting was mounted on the wall between the two windows: a jagged coastline with a raging storm hanging in the background, while tidal waves crashed against a volcanic beachfront. There was no doubt in Trixie’s mind that the subject matter of the piece was the Furia Ocean.

The showmare climbed out of bed, then shook herself a little to finally get all of Luna’s sweet dreams out of her head. She walked over to a mirror on the right side of the room, and glanced into it. Her mane was a complete mess, most likely from tossing and turning in her sleep. There was no comb nearby, and she didn't have the patience at the moment to spend the time properly stylizing it. She reached up into her mane with her magic and pulled it back into a ponytail, then searched the surrounding room with her gaze for something to hold it back with. Sighing in frustration, she relented to the situation, and forced her hair into a frumpy looking bun. So close to being back to a civilized state, and yet so far, she thought to herself, this is easily a new low. She then opened the bedroom door and ventured out into the dark hallway. Using the light coming from under her doorway she could see a small stand further down the hall, upon which a candle sat. After enchanting the tip of her horn with a small point of light, she glanced down one end of the hallway, and then the other. Her curiosity was piqued as she continued to fully wake up: this house was the largest she had ever seen. Even through the cloud of emotions and adrenaline from the night previous she remembered the scale of the mansion, and how massive it had appeared from the outside. She ventured to her right down the hall and quickly discovered three other bedrooms and even a servant’s quarters, all of the furniture within covered by large dust shrouds but containing nothing interesting for her trouble. Surely, she reasoned to herself, there was no better way to get to know somepony than to explore their home. Besides, he probably wouldn’t mind; hopefully. From what Trixie could tell with her cursory glance over the rooms was that the stallion had plenty of money but certainly no sense of style for it. Trotting towards the opposite end of the hall at a disinterested pace, she proceeded down a flight of stairs to her right that led towards the center of the manor and turned into yet another hallway. “I swear this house is almost as compacted as Labyrinth,” she mumbled to herself.

She walked down the hall towards the window at the front of the house and tried the door at the very end. Finding it to be unlocked, she stepped in and closed the door after. The room she had walked into was obviously the old stallion’s study she realized. Three gigantic bookcases took up almost the entirety of the opposite wall, each filled to the brim with all different kinds of books. The western wall to the left, brightened by a large window on the eastern side of the room, also had two smaller bookcases, each serving as a boundary for a map of the entire nation of Equestria and for the neighboring nations. On the eastern side of the room sat a large desk behind which was an awaiting revolving chair. On the desk sat a sealed ink well and a dip pen, as well as some small device made out of cast iron. It had a piston arm that was held in place by some sort of sprocket so that when the arm was moved by the mechanism it was attached to it would rise and fall in a steady rhythm. As she came over to examine it, she experimentally moved the arm with her magic, allowing it to pump itself for a few cycles under the influence of her spell, then let it go. It spun on its own momentum for one, then two cycles, but it lost what little energy remained in it in the middle of its third cycle, and came back to its rest position. “What an odd little machine,” she thought aloud, then she started to search around the rest of the room for something that might attract her interest. Her eyes scanned to the left at the nearest book shelf, gliding over the various titles without actually seeing most of them. It wasn’t until she reached the third row down that she found something that caught her eye, and it was certainly something she would not have expected to have found. Walking slowly over, she telekinetically grabbed ahold of the royal blue tome that had the focus of her attention, and brought it down to read the front cover.

“Advanced Magical Theory: First Edition,” she murmured to herself. She furrowed her brows slightly as she thought to herself, “What possible need could an earth pony have with books on magic?”

“I find them quite inspirational,” the stallion’s voice declared from behind her.

Trixie, startled by his sudden presence, fidgeted as she whirled to look in the direction he had spoken from. He stood in the doorframe for a moment, chuckling almost inaudibly at his own stealth. He was now wearing a dark grey turtleneck, and he had cut his mane shorter since the previous night. It hadn’t been by any means long to begin with, but now there was clearly reason to take pride in appearances: there was a guest in his home, after all.

“Understanding magic is good for more than just unicorns,” he said as he walked into the room, “and it certainly is good for more than just learning how to cast lights or pick things up.”

A quick rush of paranoia filled Trixie, and she looked at him suspiciously, “Were you watching me?”

“No more than the last few seconds or so,” he replied, “I was coming to offer you a small breakfast if you were interested.”

“Oh,” she exclaimed softly, looking away for a moment out of embarrassment before returning her eyes to him. She breathed in, puffed up her chest, and smiled in a haughty manner, “Then Trixie humbly accepts your invitation!”

He arched an eyebrow and smirked a little, “I graciously invite you to my dining room, then, seeing as my kitchen needs to be tidied up. Oh,” he pointed back to the odd device on his desk, “if you were still curious, that’s a miniature heat engine, by the way.”

“I’m afraid it’s not much,” her host declared a few minutes later as he scooped up a ladle full of whole grain oatmeal and let it slowly flow into an awaiting bowl, “but it’s the best I had to offer given my limited capability.”

She eyed the bowl with desire and replied breathlessly, “Trixie has been living on grass and whatever she could scrounge up from around her: this will be a feast by comparison.”

They each took a seat at the table after being served, and enjoyed their meal, each in their own way. After a few minutes of simply eating their food, the old stallion was first to break the silence, “There is something about yesterday that I find myself curious about.”

Trixie had been about to guide a spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth, but his words made her stop. “Which is?” she asked.

“You went to the Diamond Dogs and offered them some sort of proposition,” he began, all while idly stirring his spoon through the porridge in his bowl, “their race almost exclusively deals in one commodity: gems. You went to them to try and arrange a partnership of sorts, and presumably you offered to split the profits on your venture equally.”

She looked at him with half veiled surprise before returning to her confident façade, sarcastically firing back, “Who are you, Sherclop Holmes?”

The old stallion’s mouth twitched in a small smile, “I prefer to think of myself more like Mycrop, though with a more pronounced sense of personal application.”

“What exactly is it you’re trying to get at?”

The earth pony looked at her pointedly, “It’s simple really: why? Why did you risk so much for such an improbable venture?”

Trixie put her hoof down on the table top as she leaned closer to the stallion, glaring angrily at him, “Look, I thought I had them convinced but they double-crossed me. I was completely out of money and I was desperate, but you have no idea what that’s like, do you?”

The earth pony arched an eyebrow, then cocked his head as he thought to himself. “I suppose that’s true,” he finally said.

“I have no money and no home,” Trixie kept going as all of her pent up feelings began to flow, and her angry face began to waver, “I can’t even start over again because everypony thinks I’m a hack! If I’m not laughed away from any town I go to, I’m run out of every performance!” She looked down into her half-finished bowl, her eyes filling up with stinging tears even as she grimaced in anger, “I am the most hated pony in Equestria, and it’s all thanks to Twilight Sparkle and her stupid friends.”

The stallion straightened his glasses and then brought his hooves up in front of his face, resting his forelegs on the table. He processed the information he’d been given, and he thought back to his dossier on the mare before.

She had potential. Perhaps there was something that could be done. A test of some sort was necessary to prove his hypothesis correct, but first her self-pity had to be dispensed with.

“I’ve certainly had my share of dark times, whether you may think otherwise because of this opulence,” he declared, attracting the mare’s gaze up from her own world, “and I certainly know something about being a national object of hatred.”

“Oh please,” she said with a hollow scoff, “how could you compare to the Pitiful and Reviled Trixie?”

He brought his hooves down to rest before him, and he gazed at her unflinchingly, “I am Bunsen Burner.”

For the first time in her life Trixie was struck speechless, and all she could do was stare at the earth pony. His gaze lingered a little longer, but then he nonchalantly returned to his oatmeal as if nothing were unusual.

“You-“ Trixie stammered, “You’re the madpony who tried to subvert the Royal Sisters. You almost kept them from sealing up the hole to the Void.” With each realization her pupils shrank as she consciously became aware of the pony she in the house of, “You almost destroyed Equestria.”

The stallion’s own mask cracked, and he looked away from her, his hard face softening. “Yes,” he replied softly, “and I’ll have to live with that until my dying day.”

It all made sense now to Trixie: the martial arts training, the tactics, his gadgets and chemicals...

There was a part of her that wanted very much to simply stand from her chair and leave the house, never turning back one instant. This feeling was overwhelmed, however, by a sense of confusion as she weighed what she had heard of him versus what he had done for her.
“I- Hm,” she finally vocalized as she continued to look in his direction and think to herself intensely.

Bunsen Burner looked at her in curiosity, “What is it?”

Trixie thought long and hard about her indecisive feelings, “I guess I just thought you would be more…menacing.”

“And I would expect the near destroyer of Ponyville to look and act more malevolent as well,” he replied, finishing his verbal parry with a slight smirk.

Trixie winced a little, and nodded her head, “OK, point taken: don’t judge a book by its cover.”

“Then we would both agree that there is more to each of us than hasty judgment and hear-say may offer,” he declared as he leaned back in his chair, “Your charisma inspired two misguided foals to bring an Ursa Minor to town. My…need to create an ordered system of our nation blinded me to the warnings I was given, and I stood in the path of those who meant to fix the problem.” He now took his own time to stare down at his hooves, “Fortunately, the Princesses and the Elements succeeded in spite of my interference.”

The silence returned as they each reflected on their deeds, what had led them there, and where they now stood. After a sharp intake of breath Bunsen Burner clopped his hooves together and looked up, “So! I did not answer your question fairly last night. If there is anything you wish to know about who I am, you may ask away: I owe you that much. There are, however, certain things I cannot tell you due to still binding oaths I’ve taken.”

Trixie looked away from him nervously for a moment as the first question echoed through her mind without a moment’s notice, “Last night, when you said that you would kill the Diamond Dogs if they ever came back-“ she then looked him straight in the eye, “did you really mean that?”

The old stallion looked at her, almost like he was measuring her response in his own head, but then he simply replied, “Yes, but I hope I don’t have to keep my promise.”

A quiet moment filled the room as Trixie struggled with what he had said. She then thought back to something odd that had struck her more recently. Moving her breakfast bowl to the side, she casually placed her forelegs on the table, “When you said that you found books of magic to be ‘inspirational’, what exactly did you mean by that? Are you a Solarian?”

Bunsen Burner shook his head, “I am not a Solar Cultist, Classical or Neo.”

“Then why would you keep them? You’re not some kind of collector are you?”

He removed himself from his chair and walked around the table to collect the dirty dishes, all while wearing a close-lipped smile, “A reasonable guess, but no. The inspiration I take from those books, while certainly good for philosophy’s sake, is primarily towards a more physical and scientific application.” He then walked away with the dishes in hoof back towards the kitchen all while talking over his shoulder, “I create devices that channel the magical aura of other ponies.”

Trixie, perplexed but curious, trotted quickly after him to catch up, “So you’re some kind of inventor who dabbles in magic, even though you don’t have any yourself?”

“All of the beings from our world have some measure of magic; unicorns are just the most obvious. The best approximate word for what I do would most likely be ‘technomancy’: one who practices magic via technology.”

Arriving in the kitchen, still in shambles from the previous night’s brawl, the showmare watched as her host approached a large metal basin full of water that was resting on supports above the tile floor. Beneath it was a small pile of wood surrounded by small rocks. Setting down the bowls nearby, Bunsen Burner also brought over the pot and other utensils he had used to cook their meal.

“Why don’t you just use the sink?” Trixie asked as she gestured to it.

“I’m not sure yet if any of the plumbing was damaged because of our canine friend,” he replied as he also grabbed some lye soap and a set of flint and steel, “so as a precaution I shut off the water last night. I had to go out to a nearby stream to get this.”

He then sat down and began to strike flint and steel together near the smaller bits of tinder, but the sparks he wanted were not forthcoming. After a few seconds of watching him struggle, Trixie tapped him on the shoulder, “Here, let me.” She then aimed her horn at the base of the logs. A small pop and one stream of light later and pink mage’s fire began to crackle merrily under the wash basin.

After making sure that the flames would stay inside the ring, the earth pony looked at her as he stood up, “Thank you.”

She smiled softly, “My pleasure.”

“If you wouldn’t mind helping me dry these, I’d appreciate it,” he asked.

“Certainly,” Trixie replied as she telekinetically drew a towel by the sink closer to her and then pulled it a little taut by its four corners.

As the water began to warm, Bunsen Burner began to dip each piece before vigorously scrubbing it with the lye soap, then dipped it again before passing it over to Trixie who rubbed them down thoroughly before setting it off to the side.

“So how did you get your start as a performer,” he asked.

Trixie’s magic noticeably wavered before she recovered, and she looked over to her host, “You had all that information about me, and you don’t know that?”

“I only know you on paper,” he said as he dipped the next bowl into the water, “I don’t know the living you.”

The showmare turned back to her job as she reminisced to herself, “Well, like you knew I was the youngest of three, and I was always looking for attention. Dad was busy, my sisters were busy with their friends, which left me and mother at home. After I found my skill in illusions, mom encouraged me to practice as much as possible. She hoped that one day I could be a famous magician working a circuit in Las Pegasus,” she unconsciously lowered her head, and her toweling off of the dishes became softer, “She didn’t even see my first performance before she passed.”

Bunsen Burner’s own washing slowed as well, and imperceptibly his lip twitched. “My apologies,” he declared softly, “I didn’t mean for you to relive that kind of memory.”

“It’s alright,” she replied as she waved her hoof at him softly, “We knew it was coming. The pneumonia stuck with her for too long, even in spite of the treatment. A few months after she left I threw everything into a used wagon and set out to see the world.” Her face became full of bitterness as the memory of more recent events passed through her mind. “But that dream is dead now,” she declared as she shakily put down the pot away from her. After a few minutes of silence between the two that saw all the dishes cleaned and put away, Trixie asked in return, “How did you end up in Canterlot?”

Bunsen Burner sighed and gazed without sight up at the ceiling, “That is a story that began many, many years ago. It almost feels like it was a previous lifetime. After discovering my proficiency for tinkering I began to show some of the pieces I had made at local fairs, including my heat engine. One day an envoy of the Royal Guard was sent to escort me to Canterlot, where I met Princess Celestia for the first time. After a short talk with her she took me to be her student.”

Trixie’s eyes grew wide when she looked toward him next. “You were Celestia’s student?” she asked incredulously, “but you’re-“

“An Earth Pony?” he replied as he looked to her with a small smirk, “You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve heard that from other ponies.” He walked over to the lower cabinets near the sink, and opened them up, looking down into each to check for signs of water damage, “It’s true that Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns is often used to determine candidates for studentship, but pegasi, earth ponies, and even beings from other nations have been chosen in the past. Our relations with Saddle Arabia were cemented when a wealthy merchant’s son, Abd al-Salaam, completed his tutelage and returned home, establishing a kingdom uniting many species and races without ever raising a weapon. Xenophanes Persephone, a Minotaur, was the founder of the Royal Guard we know today, and was the inspiration for the Element of Loyalty. Fairy Flight after her time went on to join the Wonderbolts, and after fifty-five years of service retired from her Admiralty. Unicorns, once again, are most obvious about their skill, but all the other races have their fair share of incredible beings too.”

After finding no obvious problems, he trotted back towards the kitchen entrance, gesturing for Trixie to follow, “After nine years of schooling I was released from the Princess and was granted my own title in the Royal Family. For my scientific aptitude I was offered admittance to the Royal Science Division. It was on my first day that I met one of the many ponies who changed my life: Principled Acumen.”

Chapter 4

Year of Our Lady 971

*Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap*

The expansive hallway of marble was filled with the sound of hooves excitedly striking the floor. Today was the day. The young stallion who sat on one of the countless cushioned benches scattered across Canterlot Castle’s corridors had been looking with anticipation towards this moment for years, and now that it was almost upon him he could barely contain himself. The Princess had told him the night previous to be present in this lower hall for his induction before 8 in the morning; he had arrived at 7. He had chosen to wear his finest suit, a pinstripe shirt, grey overcoat, and emerald green tie, in order to make the best possible impression. In addition to his high caliber garb he carried with him a compact aluminum tube strapped to his right shoulder by a small sash which was full of blueprints. It had been difficult to narrow down which ones he had wanted to bring the most. He had spent hours constructing the plans he was carrying with him, and yet they were already rubbish: he had already begun to find flaws in the original designs and was mentally going through the steps he would have to take on what he would change while he was presenting each item. So absorbed was he in his mental stewing and rhythmic tapping of his hooves that he didn’t notice the guard who had come to fetch him, even though he was standing right in front of him.

“Too much of a tolerance build up,” Bunsen Burner muttered to himself softly, then adjusted his black large rimmed spectacles, “must find somewhere to shave off that extra five thousandths of an inch, or else crystalline matrix will shatter at interference fit.”

The guard didn’t even try to comprehend what the colt was saying: genius and madness involved the same amount of muttering, and he wasn’t paid enough to try and tell one from the other. He cleared his throat loudly, “M’Lord.”

Startled by the sudden interruption of his train of thought, the young prince flinched so hard that he almost dropped the blueprint he was looking at and glanced up in bewilderment. “Is it time?” he asked with an obvious hint of nervousness, and he began to feverishly roll up the plans.

“It is,” the guard said with a curt nod, his golden armour jangling with his sudden movement, “If you will follow me I am to escort you to your new superior immediately.”

“Yes!” the young stallion blurted as he finished packing up, “Yes, of course. Uh, right!”

Without another moment’s pause the guard turned on the spot and trotted away, leaving Bunsen Burner to quickly catch up. A new bout of paranoia overtook the young earth pony, and he began to check to see if his greased comb-over mane was out of place. After assuring himself it was alright, he paused and cinched his idea tube a little tighter. The guard finally led him into what appeared to be a large alcove with a door sized indentation at the end: there was no handle or knob on the two segments of wall but they appeared to open in some manner.

“So is this Principled Acumen’s office?” he asked uncertainly.

“It is the way to it, my Prince,” the guard replied as they approached, “and if I may offer you some advice sir, it would be not to mention the Madam Director’s first name in any fashion: she is very sensitive to its use.”

The guard arrived at the indentation and slid his hoof along the right wall until he found an almost invisible glass button. A light then shone from underneath its opaque surface, and the two sections of wall split apart to reveal a small room made of oak and brass and filled with small particles that lazily fell towards the floor. The guard slid an extending steel cage out of the way to grant access to the room, and gestured for his charge to enter. Stepping into the room curiously, he admired the wood paneling, softly running his hoof across its glazed surface. He heard the guard close the gate again, and then a small click. There was a lurch that made Bunsen Burner exclaim “Oh!” in surprise and then the sudden sensation of descent.

A smile of excitement grew on his face, and he turned to look at the guard, “Are we riding on an elevator?”

“Is it your first time, sir?” he asked with a slight smile.

“Yes,” the young stallion replied as he looked up and all around, imagining what could be outside their protective shell, “I’ve only ever read about them. I’ve heard there are some in Manehattan that go hundreds of feet up inside the skyscrapers there!”

“Well sir, this one has all of them beaten,” the guard declared as he relaxed a little, “we’re going half a mile down, into the old gem mines below Canterlot.”

Bunsen Burner’s eyes grew bigger, and his grin combine with a look of awe, “Over 2500 feet down? Extraordinary!”

“Wait until we get to the bottom: then you’ll see ‘extraordinary’.”

It was about five minutes later that the elevator finally came to a gentle stop with a hiss and a ding. When the doors opened the guard drew back the cage and trotted down the hall, with Bunsen Burner following behind in a state of excitement. They turned into a hallway to the right where they passed several laboratories, each with a large window into which one could glance in on the working enlightened minds. With the short amount of time he had, the young stallion saw other beings of many other races, each working on any number of things. He saw work being done on some sort of prototype hydraulic lift by a Pegasus scientist, an earth pony and a griffon staring intently at a chalkboard with a complex mathematical model with a picture of some sort of tunneling hole leading off to the right of the board, and a unicorn staring down into a microscope with a chalkboard at his back full of various possible combinations of organic chemical components: a pentose monosaccharide, a phosphate group of some kind, and what appeared to be incomplete structures composed of Nitrogen. Near the unfinished structures was the number four with a question mark afterwards. Bunsen Burner wasn’t sure what to make of it. Finally, after many more winding corridors and the ascension of a tiered flight of stairs, they entered a hallway with a wooden door on the right. A golden plaque was set in the door, on it was engraved “Office of RSD Director” and beneath that “Principled Acumen”. From behind the door Bunsen Burner could hear raised voices.

“We’re sorry Director Acumen,” an elderly sounding stallion declared sternly, “but we will have nothing to do with this fanciful metal of yours: its existence is redundant and ultimately only supported by the passing fancy of a select few.”

“MY metal is more efficient and consistent in performance than any bit-a-dozen enchanters your guild can produce,” she replied venomously, “You may think your position is secure because of your one in a hundred polymath sorcerers who can pull the weight of the other ninety-nine, but time and again we've beaten everypony you've sent our way. Arcanium is the future, and when the public can see our results for itself, your comfortable job security will be gone!”

The door opened, and a unicorn with muted orange fur wearing thick flowing robes stepped into the hallway. “It’s a pity for you that your threat has no weight behind it,” he scoffed as he turned to look back into the room, “You will see what influence we have in the end, and your trinkets will never make it to the toy market.”

He then closed the door and turned to walk past the guardpony and Bunsen Burner, but stopped just beside the young stallion.

“Allow me to offer you some advice my little earth pony,” he said in a thinly veiled attitude of condescension as he patted the colt’s shoulder, “The world turns best when we all know our place in it: elevate your betters and live within your bounds.”

The unicorn then casually strode away, leaving his ‘advice’ to hang in the air. The guard knocked on the door even as he muttered under his breath ‘pompous’ and an uncivilized word or two, “Madam Director? Prince Bunsen Burner is here to see you now.”

“Send him in,” she said with a sigh of frustration.

“Good luck, sir,” the guard declared as he swung the office door open for his charge, and then trotted away, presumably to wherever his post was. The young stallion looked at the door’s threshold, gave a quick nervous exhalation, and then stepped into the room. After closing the door behind himself he was finally able to put a face to his superior’s name.

Principled Acumen was a powder blue unicorn with piercing orange eyes. Her mane grew in long, wavy patterns that curled at the end. In her younger days it may have been various shades of dark blue, but now multiple streaks of grey had crept into it. She could by all means still be a stunning mare, but she had eyes like a griffon: intimidating and sharp.

“Sit down,” she said flatly, waving towards a seat in front of her desk.

“Good morning, Madam Director,” Bunsen Burner declared as he moved forward, still not entirely sure of how best to conversationally approach the mare.

“Good morning,” she replied without much feeling, but then abruptly put up a hoof. The young stallion stopped in front of the chair.

“Before we get started, I’m going to lay down some ground rules,” she declared, “This is not a judgment against you as a pony, but I have no idea of who you are, and I’d prefer to head off certain potential miscommunications that may occur between us. Are we clear?”

Bunsen Burner nodded vigorously, “Yes Madam Director.”

The mare’s face softened a little, “Very good! Please, have a seat.” He obliged her very quickly. As he settled into his sitting pillow, she settled into her prepared speech, “I can see you've already been warned about me, but just so you are abundantly aware, you may call me ‘Madam Director’ or ‘Director Acumen’ and that is all. Stick with those and we will get along just fine. Understand?”

He nodded, “Yes Madam Director.”

“The second item I wish to address is this: you may have been the Princess’ student, but now the chain of command is changed. From now on I am the center of your universe. There will be no galloping off to her if you have a problem.”

“Yes Madam Director.”

She nodded, then crossed her forehooves on her desk, “Now once again I will repeat myself: I have no idea who you are, so do not take this a judgment or a personal attack. The third item I wish for you to know is this: you are not special.” Bunsen Burner was visibly shocked by what she had said, but held his tongue. She continued, “You may be operating under the belief that you are somehow better than others because you were hoofpicked by Celestia herself; you may have been able to impress or confound everypony you knew before coming here; you may think you are incredibly intelligent. Make no mistake: we do not lack for intelligence here. You will either impress your peers and me or you will not. You will not get by on pure theory or conjecture here. Each year you will present some meaningful breakthrough on whatever project or collaboration you choose to apply yourself towards, or else you will be removed.”

This item in particular was a great deal to digest, so it took Bunsen Burner a while longer to finally reply, “Yes…Madam Director.”

“There is one final item for you to remember: whatever you see or hear is of the utmost secrecy within this facility. You may speak to others about your work in this organization in generalities, but anything else is the equivalent of selling state secrets, for which the punishment is severe. Are we clear on all of these points, Mr. Burner?”

The young stallion swallowed and slowly nodded, “Yes Madam Director.”

“Very good,” she exclaimed as she leaned back in her seat, “Welcome to the Royal Science Division. Now then, I see you have some plans to show off. Let’s have a look at them!”

“Of course!” he replied excitedly as he reached for his idea tube, but then realized he hadn't addressed her “Erm, apologies Madam Director.”

Director Acumen shook her head even as she brought her hoof to it, “Alright. The first addendum I’m making is that you can also address me as ‘Ma’am’.”

“Sorry, uh, Ma’am,” he replied nervously as he reached for his plans.

She sighed as he looked at him, “And don’t apologize for every minor infraction of protocol as if I’ll blast you from the surface of the earth. I’m only a terrifying scourge when I must be.”

Unsure how best to proceed, Bunsen Burner dumbly brought his blueprints up on the table and slowly unfurled them. Director Acumen quickly skimmed through the first few: a personal gyrocopter that was worn and operated by a single pony, a universal automatic page turning device.

“Some of these I've decided to change since last night,” he explained apologetically, “I was getting a little drowsy towards the early morning hours and I let a few figures slip, but I can easily correct those.”

The Director’s eyes fell on the last set of blueprints, and she stopped. She stared hard at it, then looked up to him, “Is this what I think it is?”

Bunsen Burner looked down at his drawing sheepishly, scratching behind his ear nervously, “Well, yes I suppose it is, but I've never constructed a large scale model for it. I just brought it as an example of my abilities, not for a proof of concept.”

His superior’s eyes glanced down over the plans again, disbelief growing inside her. A teleporter. This kid had drawn up an honest to Celestia teleporter for his entrance interview.

“I've been able to transport small things across short distances in the past: a softball at five feet, a cup at ten, and a pebble at fifty.”

This caused her ears to perk up, and she lean back in her chair to look at him, “Let me see if I understand this correctly: you have plans for a device that can mechanically produce a teleportation spell and you claim you've verified that it works?”

Bunsen Burner brought his hooves up, “With all due respect Ma’am, I don’t want you to think I’ve got something I don’t have! My prototype only ever was able to hit a maximum range of one hundred feet with a pea, and even then I was drawing as much energy as I could from my power source. On top of that, this model is six feet tall: to be able to transport anything useful it would need to be quadruple its current size!”

This certainly curbed Director Acumen’s excitement, but she couldn't help but stare at the blueprints before her. “Mr. Burner,” she finally exclaimed, which brought his attention squarely back to her. She began to roll his plans back up and float them over to him with her magic, “I want you to bring your device as well as some updated prints down here ASAP. Once you've demonstrated it for me, I’ll get you in contact with some other minds in our Thuamaturgy and Electronics branches. See what progress you can make in a month’s time towards making it smaller and more efficient.”

The young stallion nodded vigorously, “Yes, Madam Director.”

“You’re dismissed for the day,” she finally said, and he ushered himself out of her office.

After he had gone she turned to her own thoughts as she thought about the situation as a whole.

“A teleporter,” she muttered to herself, “This could be the game changer we've been looking for. It’s even the perfect way to shut up smug old Stargazer: beat the guild at its own game with the most iconic thing a unicorn can do besides telekinesis!"

She got up from her seat and turned to look down through the window at the back of her office, gazing at the various scientists running or flying below in the open space outside. This was her garden of genius, and she had a feeling that the young stallion would fit in nicely.

"Wherever Celestia found him, she's certainly no fool: she wouldn't waste time on just anypony" she muttered to herself, "The Unicorn Guild has declared war on our institution, and we only have one chance to become more than a minor administrative power before they squash us out." She sighed before she sat down heavily in her seat again. "Let's just hope we can get this kid's crazy idea to work."

Bunsen Burner's mind frenetically buzzed, possibilities flashing and colliding in his head, as he trotted through his street in Canterlot Heights. It was only half past eight in the morning, but the enormity of the task he had been called to do was already draining him dry of his energies. What had even convinced him that bringing the teleporter schematics was a good idea? The other ideas, while a little boring, at least decidedly worked to his satisfaction. To be so close to his long standing desire, being able to teleport, and yet so far from success was inexcusable. It was almost an embarrassment to show off a decidedly unfinished invention to his superior. He checked himself as he realized the vanity that came with that statement. No amount of intellect in the world could by itself conjure the resources he needed, he chided himself: if he could just show what he had to Director Acumen and the others, even as imperfect as it was, that would mean access to better resources and construction materials. He chuckled to himself as he trotted down the cobbled street: it would be nice to finally not have to eke out every pile of scrap he could barter for, smelt it all down, and form up his own parts.

As he approached his home at the edge of the Market district the sun shone brightly down on the city in front of him, and he couldn't help but smile. The rays of Celestia's sun uplifted his spirit it seemed; he could make this work. He could get those plans drawn up, precise and to a tee. That was the best place to start!

As he walked down the street, not but a few yards from his small two bedroom home on the left side of the Market district's edge, he noticed a new stall was set up. Gorgeous arrangements of flowers sat demurely for the world to enjoy in clusters atop the plain yellow wagon. Behind the stall stood an earth pony mare waving to any and all who passed by, a genuinely dazzling smile on her face. Her coat was a shade of creme, and her mane and tail were vibrant auburn, "Fresh flowers! Enjoy nature's fairest side for any and all occasions! Singles for two bits, half dozens for eight, and a full dozen for fifteen."

Bunsen Burner couldn't help but momentarily stare. She was beyond gorgeous. There wasn't any other way to describe it: she wore no cosmetics, no special clothing, and yet she was just...radiant.

Eventually she noticed him stopped in front of the steps up to his house. She smiled and waved to him, calling out loudly, "Hello!"

Paralyzed by the sudden attention, he waved rather awkwardly and replied back with his own, "Hello," that she barely heard. Embarrassed suddenly by his own nervousness, he turned and half trotted/half galloped to his door and hid himself behind it. He cursed himself even as he finally felt safe, "Excellent first impression, idiot."

Grumbling to himself, he set his mind back to what he needed to be doing. Even as he charted out the parts, dimensions, and materials his invention would need, and as the hours crawled by into the afternoon and evening, she was there in the back of his mind: the gorgeous flower bearing filly. Try as he might he could never fully push her away from his thoughts. To be fair though, he wasn't trying all that hard.

Chapter 5

“So it’s because of Principled Acumen that Equestria has magic powered machines?” Trixie asked as they descended once again into the basement.

“Indeed it is,” Bunsen Burner replied as he reached the landing below, “Her creation of Arcanium made many modern magical feats possible, including my teleporter.” He gestured to the large brass device as he passed it, “It’s very good about making things or beings disappear when you want them elsewhere.”

The meaning behind what he had said dawned on Trixie after a few seconds, “So that’s where the third dog went. Where did you send him?”

“Well, in physical terms it’s a bit complicated,” he said as he opened up a wooden box mounted on the north wall and opened up the two valves controlling the manor’s water, “He’s not here, but he’s not anywhere else either. I didn't bother to set coordinates or open up any receivers on the transport network before he dematerialized.”

Trixie’s eyes widened in shock, “You killed him!”

Finished with his work, he turned and shook his head, “No, no. He’s not dead; he’s just not here. Did you ever learn about Midmorning’s Theory of Teleportation?”

“I never studied magic academically,” she answered with a shrug, “I only learned what I needed to.”

“When a unicorn phases out of existence temporarily, they are for the briefest instant dumped into a pocket dimension. They then rebound back into the physical plane at the location they desired.” He then lightly knocked on the top of his head, “Your horn acts as an anchor for you: it always helps you come back here. However, when someone is artificially dematerialized from that platform they are stuck within the pocket dimension until it is reactivated.”

“Oh,” Trixie’s eyes glazed over a little.

“To be fair he won’t even know he’s been gone. That dog will be exactly as he was the moment he left: while he’s away he won’t be conscious or affected by the passage of time in the least.”

“Aaaand you know this all how?” she asked as he walked past back towards the stairs.

“Because,” he started, and then gave a heavy sigh in embarrassment, “Because I did it to myself once.”

“Lab 003, are you ready to receive?” a much younger Bunsen Burner spoke into his laboratory’s intercom.

After a silence of about three seconds, a tinny reply came back, “We are ready for transmission, Lab 011. Begin teleportation sequence.”

The young stallion briskly trotted over to his invention with a smile. He couldn’t believe it, but after seven weeks of redesign and revisions he was now seeing his true dream come to life. This was a milestone test: no more rocks, vegetables, or inanimate objects. He excitedly picked up a small cage, inside of which was a small rabbit, nose erratically sniffing the air and eyes looking all around. He quietly hushed the little rodent as he gently set it down on the teleporter’s platform, “Everything’s going to be okay, little one.”

He then quickly walked towards the control box coming out of the machine’s right side and picked it up from the small stool it rested on. He cranked the dial to receiver one and placed his hoof over the large red activation button. He stopped himself for a moment as he realized something wonderful: this was the tipping point. If everything went as he had calculated, the test rabbit would be beamed a whopping one hundred yards, straight through rock, steel, glass, and wood paneling. It would be a record breaker! Full of hope, and all trepidation left behind, Bunsen Burner gently pressed the red button and turned to gaze into his future.

The newly installed Arcanium coils warmed up through the machine with an electric whine. The stored magic traveled up its spine until it reached the projector dish at its top. Light beamed down onto the cage below and the rabbit within, and in a monumental flash everything became white. When Bunsen Burner’s eyes cleared he saw that the test animal was gone: no trace materials or ash left behind meant no disintegration.

He ran over to the intercom and hit the speech button, “Lab 003, first transmission attempt complete. No residue: anything on your end?”

“Haven’t yet received, Lab 011,” the voice replied back. Bunsen’s heart skipped a few beats. “We’re still waiting for- Hold on.”

The silence was agony as the earth pony waited impatiently.

Finally, the voice returned, “Transmission successful! Test subject made it through; Herbie’s a happy hare today!”

Bunsen Burner laughed in joy before he responded, “I bet he is, and so am I!”

When the intercom sounded next it was Principled Acumen speaking, and he could hear her smile through the intercom, “Congratulations on a successful test, Mr. Burner.”

“My sincerest thanks, Madam Director!”

“With our overall budgetary meeting coming up it looks like we all certainly have something worth showing to the Princess! Get all your data catalogued and summarized. I’ll set up a time with her Majesty and the Unicorn Guild, and you can show them both what we’re all made of down here.”

“Will do Ma’am!” he replied.

The young stallion couldn’t stop himself from jumping in the air and exclaiming an ecstatic cry. His celebration lasted a good ten minutes as he wandered around his lab, with each attempt to calm himself down reminding him of why he was so excited, and then he’d start all over again. Finally he did collect himself, at which point he noticed that someone was watching him from outside. The powder blue unicorn stallion he had seen on the day of his admittance to the RSD was looking at him with a knowing smile. Slightly mortified, all Bunsen Burner could think to do was to weakly wave back to his fellow scientist with a slightly pained expression. The unicorn laughed a little in response, then nodded and waved back to him before he turned and trotted back down the hallway.

Bunsen Burner lingered at the spot he had been standing in when discovered until his self-consciousness wore away. Eventually he did remember what it was he was supposed to be doing: packing up his notes and finalizing his data.

He groaned to himself a little, “This is probably going to take all night.” As the enormity of the task before him continued to grow in his mind, he shrugged to himself and sighed, “Well, it doesn’t matter how big the mountain is so long as you mine it one swing at a time I suppose.”

Taking the philosophy to heart, he turned to the small open office area in the lab, set himself down in the awaiting chair, and began to chip away at his paper mountain. Hours indeed did creep by. His senses became clouded by fatigue as midnight passed. The boredom didn’t help much either. Sweet thoughts of taking a few minutes to nap and then return to his work called to him like sirens, but he shook his head free of those temptations and pressed on.

It was around two in the morning that a spontaneous thought penetrated his cloudy mind: his teleporter could boast in being able to transport common animals now, but what about equines? Surely that had to be tested as well now that they’d proved it was safe, and it would of course be the first challenge the Guild would hope to beat the RSD in. He knew the technology backwards and forwards, so why couldn’t he be the first test subject?

Groggily he craned his neck back and lazily leaned his head over in the direction of his teleporter.

“This is probably a dumb idea,” he murmured to himself. He zoned out for a few seconds before nodding to himself and blinking very hard, “Yes, a very dumb idea.”

He then wearily scribbled a note down in big letters and folded it up in thirds. He then slowly walked over to the laboratory door and slipped it halfway through the crack underneath. After stepping into the array, he brought his hoof down on the control box’s big red button, and then shoved it away.

It was only as the coils had finished warming up that Bunsen Burner become conscious of the crucial point of stupidity in his dumb idea: there was no crew at the other tele-pad to receive him. They had all probably gone home for the night hours ago.

“Oh horse-“ he managed to exclaim before he was consumed by the light from above. The lab was still after the teleporter powered down. The lights were on, but nopony was home.

Light burned into his retinas, he felt off-balance. “-apples!” he blurted rather loudly, and then shielded his eyes from the hostile luminescence. Bunsen Burner recognized the sound of the teleporter’s coils bleeding out. He’d been brought back he realized.

“Huh” he heard a voice declare, “I certainly wouldn’t have put bits on that being the first word out of your mouth.”

The earth pony blinked rapidly to dispel the pink and blue afterimages in his vision. Once they finally cleared he recognized his savior: the pale blue unicorn from earlier. He deftly threw back a sandy blonde strand of mane from out of his face. “Are you alright?” he asked worriedly, “We’ve got several ponies nearby with medical training.”

“I’m fine,” Bunsen Burner replied as he shook himself awake, “but I could use a quick power nap.”

“I just discovered your note a few minutes ago as I was walking in-“ the unicorn began to explain.

The earth pony’s eyes grew wide as he turned to look him in the face, “Walking in? How long was I gone? What time is it?”

He whirled around to the clock on the wall and stared at the hands for himself, answering his own question: 7:43.

“Almost six hours,” he murmured to himself, and his half addled mind tried to work, “I’m still tired though. How can I have passed through six hours and still be tired?”

“Here’s a more pertinent question,” the unicorn declared with a frown, “What in Celestia’s good name possessed you to think that testing that apparatus on yourself was a good idea?”

Bunsen Burner looked back to his fellow scientist, and sighed to himself, accepting the admonishment, “It definitely was not a good idea, I can agree with you there. Sorry, but what is your name?”

“Punnett Square,” he replied.

“Thank you, Punnett Square, for saving my hide,” Bunsen Burner declared with a deep bowing of his head, “I don’t want to inconvenience you any further, so I’m going over to that nice chair over there and I’ll relax my eyes for a few minutes.”

“Sorry,” he replied as he came over to the earth pony’s side and lifted his left hoof over his own shoulder and walked them towards the lab door, “but that’s not going to happen; not until we’ve gotten you checked out.”

“My teleporter is perfectly safe,” he groggily replied, “Herbie didn’t get turned to dust going through it, and neither did I.”

“Oh yes, the machine that can warp localized reality is perfectly safe!” Punnett Square shook his head as he walked them outside, “Featherbrained gearhead. Everything is fine with you so long as the machine works ‘virtually perfect’, then you get trapped in it like you did, you miserable twit, and somepony has to come and save your flank.”

Bunsen Burner didn’t reply; he was nodding off to sleep.

Punnett Square lightly elbowed him in the rib, and yelled, “Stay awake!”

“Wasgoingon?” the earth pony replied in a rush.

“I just called you a miserable twit. What are you going to do about it?”

“That was uncalled for,” Bunsen Burner replied groggily.

Punnett Square hadn’t expected the stallion to take the insult without feeling angry. In the end he shrugged a little and continued hauling the dead weight pony, “Well you might be right there. Still, I stand by my calling you a featherbrained gearhead. Now stay awake! You need to be responsive if you want a clean bill of health and if you want me to get off your case.”

After about a half hour’s observation by an onsite medic, Bunsen Burner was finally released with instructions to take sick leave for the day. After he stepped out of the small office and into the hall, he noticed that Punnett Square was leaning against the opposite wall, waiting for him.

“Listen,” the unicorn began as he approached, lowering his voice so that nobody passing by would hear, “What you did was reckless and frankly downright foolish, and I’d be well within my rights to report you for disciplinary action.”

Bunsen Burner’s tired eyes momentarily burst open as he looked to his compatriot, and an icy feeling crept into his stomach. He felt his entire career flash before his eyes.

“What’s stopping you?” he asked hesitantly.

Punnett Square shrugged and shook his head to the side, “Well, I’m guessing you’re fine for one thing, and nopony else was harmed, so really there’s nothing to report.” He then smirked, “Besides, you don’t really belong in the RSD until you’ve had your first workplace incident. It’s practically a rite of passage for gearheads like you!”

“I am more than just a ‘gearhead’ you know,” Bunsen Burner replied pointedly.

“That a fact?”

He nodded, “I know your work involves organic chemistry. You’re looking for something involving complex chains of phosphates and sugars, and whatever it is I think you’re close to cracking it.”

A twinkle came into Punnett Square’s eye and he smiled deeply, “Oho! Looks like there is more to you than I initially guessed. Tell you what, you go and take your day off, and maybe tomorrow you can stop by during lunch; we can talk shop then. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” the earth pony replied wearily, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home to fall into a temporary coma; about eighteen hours should do I think.”

“I certainly hope so!” the unicorn chuckled, then patted him on the back before turning and walking down the hall, “Rest well, Bunsen Burner.”

“Many thanks, Punnett Square,” he replied before he began his long shamble to the elevator and to the surface. As he made his way down the street to his home, he didn’t notice that the flower filly was looking his way with a concerned expression. If he had noticed, in his condition he might not have cared all that much. He fumbled with the lock to his front door, and just barely managed to close it shut behind as he made his way up to his bedroom. Collapsing onto his neatly made bed, he didn’t even have the energy to pull the covers of his body before he fell into an unconscious dream. He was tired beyond belief, but with everything good that had happened the day previous, he’d later call it a fair way to balance out his luck.

Chapter 6

After additional legitimate equine testing and still more tweaks to the design of his device, Bunsen Burner was ready to show his teleporter off. The timing couldn't have been better, as his apparatus was now going to be the main spectacle in an otherwise standard board meeting. It was also going to be the first time in two months he would see his former teacher face to face. The excitement he had to finally show off the fruits of his and the RSD’s labor was suitably dulled by the fact that he had to sit through the boring process of budgetary review along with Director Acumen, but he patiently held his tongue and waited. Margins, research grants, returns, and a great many financial niceties flew past him as the time ticked by, each meant very little to him and each quickly evaporated from his mind. He could barely stifle a yawn. He looked up towards the throne where she sat, his wise, kind mentor. He had a feeling she too was not very excited by the intricacies of the treasury system, but that she had mastered the art of looking attentive rather than being attentive a long time ago. Eventually she became aware of his gaze, and she smiled down at him. He smiled back. Though there was silence between the two, he already had an idea of what she would have said had she had the chance, You will do well, my loyal student. I’m proud of you. Now show the world why you should be proud.

Director Acumen stood from her floor cushion and straightened her dress jacket, “And now, if it would please her Highness, we wish to offer up a demonstration of our latest technology.”

Princess Celestia smiled lightly and gave a soft nod, “You and your staff may proceed, Director.”

Director Acumen gave a quick bow and then signaled to the guards. Flinging the doors to the Royal Proclamation Chamber open, they pulled two teleporters in on a small wooden cart. They lifted one unit off and carefully placed it in the corner to the left, this being the southeast. The guards then brought the second unit just before the steps leading up to the Princess’ throne, and placed it before her. Once their work was done, a second set of guards ushered in two unicorns.

The Director gestured to the newcomers, “As a gesture of good will and in the spirit of collaboration, we have also invited representatives of the Unicorn Guild to act as the standard by which we would hope to be compared.” She turned and offered her hoof out with a smile, “We are grateful for your presence here today, Grand Magus Stargazer.”

The old orange unicorn took up the hoofshake with a charmed smile of his own, “We in turn are here to humbly offer our services in aiding the Princess’ judgment.”

Though outwardly there were smiles all around, the eyes of the two leaders told a different story: this event was most definitely a competition, and they each had their own ideas of what the outcome would be. Each leader turned away from their rival and returned to their young assistants.

“You may begin when ready,” the Princess declared.

Stargazer’s champion lightly shook his salmon pink coat and dark green mane, centering himself physically and mentally. In a burst of green light he disappeared only to near instantly reappear on the opposite side of the room, a slight smirk on his face. Stargazer looked over to the two scientists as his pupil walked back, and he too had a pompous expression. Director Acumen’s nostrils flared even as she stared back at the old stallion with self-assurance, then looked to Bunsen Burner and nodded. He strolled towards his device nonchalantly, checked that all the settings were correct on the control box, then pressed the power button. Another flash of light filled the room, and the earth pony reappeared inside the second array. He then reached around the second teleporter’s array arm and punched the power button there, reappearing before the others.

“Grand Magus,” he declared as he turned to him, “If I might be so bold, I’d ask a request of you.”

Perplexed by the unscheduled nature of this entreaty, the old stallion responded, “By all means; ask away.”

“As we can all see, using just the confines of this room is not test enough for either of us.”

The unicorn’s brow arched, “And you propose that we up the ante, as it were?”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Very well then. Where shall be our new benchmark?”

Bunsen Burner smiled with a slight twinkle in his eye, “Canterlot Square.”

Stargazer for his part maintained the same aloof body language as ever, but the young scientist noticed the way that his apprentice twitched and looked to his master out of the corner of his eye: the pupil wasn’t so sure he could achieve that sort of distance. The Grand Magus’ brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, “I’m sure you’ll of course need some time to setup one of your trinkets down below before you will be ready. We could of course adjourn for whatever time is necessary to allow you a fair chance,” he turned and bowed to the Princess as he spoke, “If it pleases her Majesty.”

“Your offer is most courteous,” Director Acumen replied with a smug smile, “but we made the necessary preparations before we arrived. By all means, feel free to make the first jump.”

Stargazer froze in his humble posture for a moment, but quickly righted himself, “Yes, hm…Very well.”

“Master,” the apprentice murmured as his superior turned back to him.

“Quiet foal,” he hissed back softly. He then spoke to Bunsen Burner, who he now recognized from several weeks previous, “As interesting as your wager is I’m afraid that our collaboration only hinged on the one demonstration. Our bond is fulfilled. We would be more than willing to help you test your equipment in the future, but now is not the right time.”

The young stallion bowed respectfully in return, “I understand, Grand Magus, and I am appreciative of your help, both now and in days to come.”

The two unicorns swiftly left after pleasantries were fully exchanged with the Princess. Director Acumen watched them go, a thin smile creeping across her face, which she silently shared with Bunsen Burner.

“Madam Director,” Princess Celestia declared, which brought hers’ and her subordinate’s attention back to her. “Your demonstration was a magnificent display of engineering, and I am impressed by the potential this technology has to offer Equestria.”

Her horn lit up with her signature golden illumination, and she brought forth parchment, a quill, and an inkwell, “I will have a note sent down to the treasury, and you will have your funding for the next quarter within the hour.” She then looked her former student in the eye and smiled deeply, “Congratulations, to you and to all of your staff for this achievement.”

Bunsen Burner grinned with joy at her praise, and the Director smiled deeply as she bowed, “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“I can’t believe you and the Director managed to get away with putting him on the spot,” Pundett Square exclaimed with a chuckle as he leaned back in his lab chair.

Bunsen smirked in return, “It wasn’t my main focus, but I have to admit it really was satisfying.”

The unicorn spread his forelimbs out in an encompassing motion, “All these wonderful things and we also got fifteen percent more funding than we asked for. The Guild will of course say it’s a show of nepotism.”

“That’s because they’re sore losers,” Bunsen said with a small laugh.

The two stallions sat in silence for a bit, each comfortable with using the pause to think on other things. The earth pony’s drifted to his most recent distraction: the mare selling flowers. What did she do in the time she wasn’t in front of his house he wondered to himself. Did she live in the valley below and bring her goods up to the city, or did she live up here with him and have them shipped to her to resell?

“How many years did you study under the Princess?” he faintly heard Pundett ask.

“Hm?” he responded quickly, “Oh, ah, nine years in total; seven in general education and two under her personally.”

The unicorn settled back into his chair, “This is probably a question you get a lot, but what is she like? I mean I’ve seen her, but only from far away like during a speech; never in person. She must be larger than life. All the experience she has, the ages of wisdom at her hooves. It’s got to be incredible to see in action!”

Bunsen exhaled breezily as he too leaned back in his chair, “Well, she is wise, and frightfully intelligent! Something that most ponies don’t really know about her though is that she does love a good practical joke.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“About two years ago she decided to usher in Daylight Saving’s Time a week early. I was late to my second ever teaching session with her. She did apologize for it after seeing how it made a nervous wreck of me, thinking that my lateness would reflect poorly on me, but not before she had a good laugh.” He then looked up and squinted as he thought, pointing his hoof at things only he could see, “Then there was the time she left the whoopi cushion under my seat, and also the time she offered me tea with Zebharan burning spice in it.”

“Oooh hahaha!” the unicorn cackled, “Who’d have known that the Princess had such a devious streak in her?”

“I never drank tea after that. Ever. Seriously, I could never predict when it was coming either! She never gave any hint, verbal or otherwise, and I swear she has no tell either. By all the stars in the sky she’s doing the world a favor by never entering a poker tournament: she’d rob everyone blind within the first ten rounds!”

“Were they tests of some kind?” Punnett asked, “Far be it from me to try and grasp the complexities of her mind, but there has to be some reason she would do things like that.”

The earth pony shook his hoof dismissively, “I doubt it’s something as complicated as that: she’s immortal, and with literally all the time in the world she needs things to alleviate her boredom. She told me once she’s read every book in Canterlot Library at least twenty times. She keeps records of which ones she’s read each century so she can keep rotating on which ones she comes back to sooner rather than later.”

“Variety is the spice of life after all,” Pundett interjected dryly.

“She has at least one diary dedicated to each year she’s seen, sometimes two or three for the ‘exciting’ ones. They number well into the thousands, going back as far as YOL 427.”

The unicorn’s eyes twinkled as he leaned forward and thought aloud, “I’d love to ask her a few questions if I ever got the chance. She saw the recognized species come together under the Dawn Compact for the First Naming Day. She’s undoubtedly seen the legendary bat ponies, or the long extinct sea ponies! She might be able to help me with that part of my genetic theory I was telling you about.”

Bunsen’s ears fell even as he smiled good-naturedly, “I’m sorry Pundett old friend, but she’s already told me she doesn’t really remember anything beyond what she’s journaled about; just snippets. All she’s certain of is that she’s over one thousand years old.”

The unicorn visibly wilted, “Ah well. I suppose just getting the answer that easy wouldn’t be as satisfying as struggling for it after a few years of research I suppose. Still, you must admit that going by the potential ramifications of genetic evolution that there should be a greater number species we should be sharing the planet with? And as we can see in the example of the Everfree Forest magic cannot indefinitely overcome nature, so we can rule out that transequinism or any other means of magical mutation is the cause of this deficiency in numbers.”

“Yes,” Bunsen Burner said with a sigh and a small smile, “Unless of course your scale of evolution over time is wrong, in which case our planet is indeed younger than we’d all initially believed.”

“But that’s just it!” Pundett replied as he scooted his chair a little closer, “I’m certain that my theory is correct, but I am also certain that the thought of our planet being much older than you believe is also true, which leads me back to the great, big discrepancy that occurs when the two meet! Forgive me this flight of fancy, but I think one possible explanation that meshes the two ideas nicely is that this world is simply an adopted world that we were all placed on after some sort of large scale terraforming process took place.”

Bunsen stared at his friend incredulously, “ ‘Adopted world?’“

Pundett nodded sharply, “Yes, adopted world! We were either moved from somewhere else or created specifically for this place, but we obviously don’t have the technology to do so, so perhaps we were transplanted her by an alicorn, or alicorns, or perhaps a species we’ve never seen!”

“There seems to be wafts of horse apples coming off of this idea,” Bunsen replied, then looked around in an exaggerated way, “If only we had a window to open in this lab!”

Punnett brought his hooves up defensively, “Just try to keep an open mind with me here. Look back into ancient myths and legends of all the races: there are common threads throughout each. There was darkness and pain before life and light bloomed on this rock, then there are three common entities. There’s the trickster we know as Discord, there’s the royalty in the form of alicorns, ranging from one to three depending on who you ask, and the last group are the odd ones out. Our ancestors called them the Ruined, believing them to be the cause of all suffering in the world, including creating Discord himself! In their hubris they didn’t consider that he would turn against them, and he utterly destroyed them. But just to the east our Zebharan neighbors call them the Upright Ones, claiming that Discord had always permeated nature with impurity, but the cunning Upright Ones provided the means to fighting and sealing Discord, sacrificing their collective lives to save us all. I think these ideas and others are an imperfect description of the race that could have hypothetically created us.”

“Or they’re all exactly what they are: folklore,” Bunsen replied with exasperation, “All the best tales made up by a few but shared by all. In lack of evidence our primitive but curious ancestors and the ancestors of the other races made up these stories to answer the questions burning in their minds even as they focused on survival. Such explanations were a necessary stopgap back then, but now that we have proper means of understanding the world through instrumentation and the scientific method we no longer need those myths.”

Both stallions leaned back in their chairs and simply looked at each other as they each let their views sink into the other. Finally Punnett gave a small chuckle and smiled warmly, “Stubborn to the end aren’t you?”

Bunsen nodded, “Earth pony pride! Besides, there’s no evidence yet to support your extraterrestrial claim.”

“And there’s no objective certainty in what you claim by saying those stories are a fabrication,” the unicorn replied, “but it does make the brain work and is good exercise for the jaw. You’ll do an old stallion a favor and perhaps allow me my delusions, won’t you?”

“ ‘Old stallion’” the earth pony scoffed, “You being five years older than I does not lend you the right to claim yourself as ‘old’ by any means.”

“Well I certainly feel old,” Punnett replied, “I’ve submitted my hypotheses on Deoxyribonucleic Acid to a group of qualified peers, my wife and I are settling down and trying to become a family, and one of these days I might just want a cushy professorship back at Canterlot University when I’m done with this think tank.”

“How is Bolera doing by the way?”

“Quite well in fact; she’s almost achieved her doctorate in literature now. That’s another thing that’s making me old: paying debts. Hopefully in a few years we’ll get it all paid off, just in time for the foals to go and get their shot at higher education.” Punnett thought to himself for a moment, then glanced up at his younger friend, “Now that I’m thinking about it, when was the last time you just took a few days off and spent some time doing what you want Bunsen?”

The earth pony sighed, then stood from his chair to slowly pace around the room, “I frankly can’t remember. I’ve been so caught up working on my dream that I haven’t given it much thought.” He unconsciously stopped as he thought, “Though there is one thing that might shift my attention.”

“Hmmmmmmmmmmm,” the unicorn leaned back, brought his hoof up to his chin and stroked it, all the while looking at his friend with a knowing smirk, “This wouldn't happen to be another pony would it?”

Bunsen’s face scrunched up a little, “Yes, but I have no idea how to approach her. I don’t even know what her name is! All I know is that she sells flowers near my house and that she always waves and says ‘hello’!”

“Sounds like she wants to talk with you, so why not talk back?”

“I don’t have any idea what to talk about,” the earth pony said in frustration as he turned back to his friend, “I don’t know anything about the study of plants or their various phyla! I’d need time to do some research on botany, herbology, and-“

Punnett waved one hoof while he put the other up to his face with sigh, “Stop, stop, stop, stop, just stop. You’re overcomplicating this far more than it need be! If every mare and stallion had to have a Ph.D. in their spouse’s interests we’d have never made it past the first generation of equines. She has interest in you, so just go up and talk to her one of these days!”

“But where should I even start?” Bunsen asked.

“Get a free education: learn about botany from her. Show an interest in what she’s interested in, and you never know what could happen! The only reason Bolera and I began dating was because I asked her about her favorite stories. Learn a little about this flower filly and you might gain something more than you expected.”

“Right, let’s go over this again,” Bunsen Burner murmured to himself as he turned onto his street, “ ‘Hello, my name is Bunsen Burner. I’ve seen you waving to me all the time, so I thought I-‘” He stopped himself, “No, that’s too formal and awkward. ‘Hi, I’m Bunsen Burner.’ That’s a good start, but where do I go from there? ‘Could you tell me a little about your flowers?’ Yes! Yes. Casual, but it opens up a dialogue.”

It was getting late in the afternoon, the sun was sinking into the west, and the street lamps were being lit by the nightly street crews. Watching them go about their work as he passed by, a little tingling feeling of worry entered his mind.

“I’m later than usual,” he thought aloud to himself, “What if she’s already gone for the day? I suppose I’ll just have to wait for another chance tomorrow. I can’t lose my nerve overnight though!”

“Um, excuse me?” he heard somepony speak from right in front of him. Having been staring at the ground as he walked he hadn’t noticed that somepony had been approaching him. Looking up quickly he found that the pony he had wanted to talk to all along was right there before him. “I can’t help but ask, but are you talking to yourself?” she asked with a worried look on her face.

Unprepared, his mental gears grinding against each other without purchase, his prepared speech tumbled out of his mouth in a nervous chain, “Hello my name is Bunsen Burner and I was wondering if I could ask you about your flowers I’d like to learn more about them and you.”

The both of them blinked a bit as they each reacted in their own way to the jumbled mess of words, every second of which Bunsen was internally screaming and kicking himself, Idiot! Imbecile! You could have waited, but you ruined your one and only shot at a good first impression! So caught up in his own mental flagellation was the poor stallion that he almost didn't hear what the earth pony mare had to say in response.

Her look of shock slowly turned into a smile, “Well, I’m afraid I've already put away my goods for tonight, but if you wanted to really learn more about my flowers perhaps we could set up an appointment.”

Bunsen paused, slowly trying to process what she had said through the fog of emotion clouding his mind, “An appointment? Oh um, y-yes, yes. Right. An appointment would be very good!”

“Perhaps sometime tomorrow? I know of an excellent out of the way restaurant. If you met me by my stall, say around 6:30, we could go from there?”

“T-That sounds like a lovely idea,” he replied, his mind breaking down as he understood what was happening, but hardly could believe that it was.

“I’m Lily by the way,” she declared with an interested smile, “Lily Cloverhoof.”

“Bunsen Burner,” he blurted rather clumsily.

“It’s nice to finally put a name to a face after all this time,” she declared, “I’ll handle the reservations, but obviously there is a consultation fee that we need to discuss.”

“Perrrhaps I could pay for your dinner?” he seemed to asked uncertainly, as at this point he was fumbling through the conversation as best as he could, trying to recover any self-sense of decency he had left.

She nodded and smiled, “I think that would be an agreeable means of payment.” She then continued on her way past the internally disheveled stallion, “Good night Mr. Burner. I’ll expect you to be on time of course. Wouldn't want to be late for your appointment, would you?”

“I won’t miss it for anything!” he called out to her with a stupid grin on his face. He was almost certain he heard her chuckle in response to his accidental show of enthusiasm.

For a good minute or two after she had left him he simply stood in the middle of the sidewalk, gazing after her in a disorganized, half frenetic/half blissful calmness. It eventually occurred to him to finish making his way home and to get inside before he could make more of a public fool of himself.

“Foolish, yes,” he replied aloud to his inner sense of advice as he brushed off his hooves on the welcome mat in front of his door, “but also the fool who’s got a date!”

Chapter 7

“I have a haaaaard time believing you were that socially awkward as a colt,” Trixie declared as she followed after her host back to the kitchen, “and I still can’t quite wrap my head around you being a student of Princess Celestia.”

Bunsen Burner glanced back at her for a moment before looking forward again, “Time, amongst other things, can produce a great deal of change in any stallion or mare.” He then turned to open the pantry to his right and began to browse through it, grabbing every other foodstuff that he seemed to lay eyes on.

“What happened to that mare you went to see?”

He then grabbed hold of two picnic blankets from the pantry corner and a wooden rod, then brought the whole ensemble to the counter area just next to the sink, where he began to place the food items into the blanket, “We went to the restaurant she’d reserved for, and we had our first date there. After a few months we were married. It was a small affair, though the Princess did attend. Punnett Square was my Best Stallion.”

Trixie momentarily opened her mouth in a manner that seemed like she was about to ask a question, but then she closed her mouth again.

Sensing the question hanging in the air without even seeing what she had done, Bunsen Burner simply said, “We’re no longer together.” He then continued on, “Around eight months later Punnett and Bolera had a daughter. When they asked us to be the child’s godparents there wasn’t any force in the world that could have made us say no.” Bunsen Burner finally tied a knot around each bundle with some force, “We were close enough friends to be almost family to each other.”

“What was the filly’s name?” Trixie asked.

“Cadence,” he replied.

Trixie blinked for a second in bewilderment, then dismissed her confusion with a waving her hoof, “Oh I see; they wanted to name her after the Princess.”

“Something like that, yes,” the old stallion replied almost under his breath.

His task accomplished, he took the double knapsack into his mouth, then turned and put it on the floor, offering it to Trixie. The showmare for her part was initially confused, but realized what he was doing when he finally declared, “For your journey.” She then picked up the arrangement with her magic.

Before she could say anything else, Bunsen Burner walked past her and out of the room, saying over his shoulder as he left, “Now I’m sure I’ve taken up enough of your time with my constant blathering, so why don’t you run along and seek your vengeance on Twilight Sparkle and all that.”

It took Trixie a few seconds to truly think about what he had said, during which she blinked a few times in confusion. As she finally understood what he had meant her temper boiled back to the surface once again; where did he get off with his self-righteous attitude, to just flippantly throw what had happened to her back in her face? Dropping the knapsacks on the floor, she stormed after the stallion with a growl, her mind clouded by anger, yet also a still lingering sense of confusion. She meant to search the house from top to bottom, tear the whole place down if she had to get to him that way, but as she turned into a large hall area she found him standing in the front hallway of the manor, seemingly waiting for her by the door.

As she strode purposefully towards him, taking a quick, furious snort, she snapped at him, “What in Tartarus do you mean ‘run along and seek your vengeance’, especially after what you said last night; revenge is a sucker’s game?”

Bunsen Burner looked at her passively as he spoke, as if she were talking to a brick wall, “Take a good look at what you’ve become over the last few months; beaten down, yes, but not broken. You have a strong spirit within you, but your goal of petty revenge is absolutely futile; it will bring you no solace for what has been taken from you.”

“Stop with the psycho-analysis bull!” Trixie yelled at him, as he imperiously gazed back at her, “I don’t know how anypony could stand you; you and the way you try to look down on others! You’re not some high and mighty pony who can just examine us mortals at your leisure then toss us aside! It’s no wonder your wife left you!”

A burning spark of light seemed to appear in the stallion’s eyes as they narrowed, and the mare’s anger faltered somewhat as she began to wonder what he would do. Still, she did not back down, and she stared defiantly right back at him. After a few moments of very full silence, the stallion calmed down and finally spoke in an even but tense tone, “I will dispense with my judgments of your character. I offer you a choice. Option One: take what I gave you and leave; go on your way, cursing everything and everypony under the sun for what has happened to you: a mare willing to play the victim to assuage her own pride and sense of arrogant self-pity. Option Two: stay here, and I can teach you how to take the power and might you claim to have and direct it, if you are willing to admit to yourself that you need help.”

“Direct it how?” she asked sharply.

“However you want.”

In this moment Trixie was faced with a decision that seemed to eat away at her from the inside. She could leave this damn stallion behind and never have to see him again, but what would she do afterward? Move to the next town? Continue wandering through the lands of Equestria trying to eke out some kind of meager living? Her hatred burned again for that awful unicorn in Ponyville who had ruined her life. Then a thought occurred to her: one student of Princess Celestia had destroyed her life, and another was offering to rebuild it. What sort of irony of chance was this? It couldn’t be coincidence.

“What are you getting out of this,” she asked abruptly in the same sharp tone as before, “Nopony really does anything out of a spirit of charity. How do you benefit from helping me?”

The stallion himself seemed to pause for a moment to think on this. “I suppose,” he finally said at long last, “I don’t like to see things remain broken.”

Trixie scoffed to herself before she leaned back on her rump and crossed her forelegs, then continued to glare at him, “Let’s say I did choose to stay here and satisfy your noble sense of altruism; what would you really be teaching me; the magic of friendship perhaps?”

“The first thing I’d teach you would be some proper self-defense,” he declared, then slowly shook his head a little, “the stars know you need it. After that, perhaps I could help by giving you a real education in magic.”

She couldn’t argue with the first one for sure; she didn’t want to be helpless again should she ever encounter anymore Diamond Dogs, and the tome she had seen before was bound to have some very powerful magicks within. She pushed further, “No psycho-analysis? No moralizing?”

“No assessments or expectations,” he shook his head as he replied, “We’ll simply see what we can do with what potential you have.”

Trixie visibly struggled with her decision, but then a thought crossed her mind: was her pride really going to hold her back from getting at least a few nights’ rest in a real home instead of the open skies? If she stayed, humored this stallion for a little while, and took his knowledge from him, she could become more powerful than she had ever been. Yes, after that there was no doubt that Trixie would most definitely become in actuality as great and powerful as she had always claimed. No town would run her out again. She would return to Ponyville, and show that arrogant Twilight Sparkle who really was the highest powered unicorn in all of Equestria.

Finally she declared, “Very well, I’m staying. When do we start?”

Bunsen Burner nodded quickly, “We already did. Full disclosure I suppose, but my last judgment of you had me postulating that given this test you’d walk out that door.”

“I still can,” she replied angrily, as she shook a hoof at him.

“I did promise no more of that if you stayed,” he replied with a small smirk, and then he walked past her back into the large hall, “Now then Ms. Lulamoon, let’s start with the basics of hoof-to-hoof combat: proper stance and center of balance.”

Trixie sighed heavily, “Very well,” and trotted after him with heavy hooves.

Striding into the large room with wider than normal steps, Bunsen Burner stop when he had reached the center, turned on the spot to face his new pupil, and reared onto his back legs, then held the stance, albeit with a little straining due to his wounds.

“Our species, while still able to buck with our legs, fly with wings, or use magic, is not a predatory one. In our natural state we lean closer to flight when our fight or flight response kicks in. It doesn’t have to remain this way however. Like iron, when the equine body is forged and treated in the right manner, it becomes stronger than before, and you can hold your own against your opponent, no matter who they are.” He then motioned with his right forehoof to his student, “Stand up like me.”

Trixie mirrored him as best as she could, rearing up on her back legs, then balancing on her back legs.

“Very good,” he said with a small smile, as he returned to four legs and approached her, “This is typically the part that gives beginners the most trouble!”

“I practiced a lot when I was a filly,” she said with a smirk, “The audience loves a good bow out at the show’s end.”

“The basic technique is good, but we need to adjust your form a bit,” he declared, “Put your hooves flat to the floor; you don’t need to impress anyone by standing on the tips of your walls.”

Trixie automatically adjusted her bearing.

“Now move your back hooves further apart to just beneath your shoulders; it provides you a wider platform and makes you more stable.”

After Trixie had moved herself into the right position the old stallion circled her, minutely tapping her back legs into just the right spot with his right hoof, then returned to his place in front of her.

“Remember this stance, but not only with your mind. Memorize how your muscles feel, and internalize it.” He then returned to his own combat stance, his right hooves to the back and left up front, “Strike me.”

Momentarily shocked, Trixie nervously looked to her right, then brought up a hoof to her face which she coughed into before looking at him again, “What?”

“Strike me, come on,” he exclaimed.

She shook her forehooves in frustration, emphasizing with each word, “But I don’t know even how to fight!”

“There’s no better way to learn than from your mistakes. Strike me!”

Trixie looked down at her legs worriedly for a moment, then she began to take wavery steps towards him. Walking on two legs felt like she was walking on clumsy, wobbling stilts, but she struggled on in spite of her difficulty. Bunsen Burner waited patiently where he stood, not budging an inch to get closer: she needed to struggle if she was truly going to learn. Finally she stood in front of him; she wouldn’t say it aloud but she was half surprised she had managed that. Standing in front of him now she was unsure how to proceed; which hoof did she even try to hit him with? For that matter where should she even aim? She steeled herself and acted on her instinct. She threw her right hoof, swinging it towards the stallion’s head. He responded by simply stepping backward out of the arc her reach was traveling through. Trixie stumbled forward two steps but managed to right herself.

“Stop,” he said as he put up a hoof, “Explain to me why you failed.”

“You moved,” she said in a deadpan tone, which definitely left the afterhint of a large, snide “Duh” in the air.

Bunsen Burner shook his head, “Your failure was not caused by me: failure occurred because of you and you alone.”

Trixie let out a silent exclamation, “You didn’t tell me you were going to move!”

Bunsen Burner breathed in and sighed heavily, “You will not meet an enemy who is gracious enough to tell you how to beat them. Ever.”

Trixie waved her hooves up in the air, “But this is training; I’m just starting out!”

“Not an excuse,” he replied before he unexpectedly rushed her. He leaned to his left and brought his left hoof right next to the now Surprised and Intimidated Trixie’s side, “My dominant hoof here sends you off balance, you teeter over, leaving your defenses open wide.” He then straightened up, wrapped his foreleg around her right one, then stepped behind her, placing his left hoof on her back, “Or I could seize control of your dominant foreleg. With the proper amount of pressure and leverage I can pop it out of socket, or do catastrophic damage to the foreleg itself.” Trixie’s eyes were wide with fear, and she nervously gulped to herself. Bunsen Burner let go of her foreleg, returned to all fours, and walked back in front of her once again, “Your training will be simple, not soft: pass or failure, and you will fail very often. Once we are done, though, you might just be able to save your own life with these skills, and at a moment’s notice. Until that time, you will treat me as your trainer and opponent.” He paused to let the information sink in; needless to say he had Trixie’s full attention at this point. “Now then,” he exclaimed, “What caused you to fail?”

“I-“ she began quietly, then she cleared her throat and spoke more loudly, “I didn’t maintain my balance?”

Bunsen Burner briskly nodded, “Correct, this being the result of overextending your reach. Because your first action was faulty, the consequences of that action could result in your life being endangered.” He paused, then turned and began to walk to the opposite doorway at the end of the hall, “Continue working on your balance for now: I’m going to make us a brief lunch.”

Trixie watched him slowly leave, and as soon as he was out of sight she let out a nervous breath, one which she didn’t realize she had been holding in, then went back to all fours for a moment to let her muscles unwind. After a few moments just breathing she murmured, “What have I gotten myself into?”

Chapter 8

Trixie fell to the floor with a thud and a small grunt. Bunsen Burner loomed over her, ready to bring his front hooves down on her. With quick thinking she called on her magic to give herself an extra push up, swinging her right back hoof up. Seeing the attack only a split second before it was going to hit him in the jaw, the old stallion instead crossed his hooves to take the blow, knocking him back a few inches even in his sturdy state. Helping along her momentum with her magic, Trixie flipped herself up onto her back hooves, and steadily approached her opponent.

“Remember, a fight is merely a debate of the hooves,” Bunsen Burner declared as Trixie made quick, methodical thrusts at him which he parried by sliding them out and away from his core, “Each connecting hit is a point in your favor, and each mistake a fallacy. A proper defense in either requires the covering of one’s weakest areas and constant practice.”

There was a sound of something flying through the air from behind, and he saw her horn glowing. Without even glancing behind he put as much power into his backlegs as he could and jumped into the air. Time seemed to slow as adrenaline flooded his senses, and the aging stallion watched as an old wooden chair flew through the air underneath him surrounded by a magenta aura. Having just enough time and sense of mind to do so, he wound his back hoof up and kicked the top of the chair, altering its trajectory to intersect with Trixie.

Eyes shooting wide open, Trixie poured everything she had into stopping the chair a split second before it impacted with her body, forcing it to fall on its back. Bunsen Burner ran on all fours towards her, using the front of the fallen chair as a spring board to pounce on her. They slid a little ways before coming to a stop, with her pinned to the floor by his right hoof on her chest with his left held up ready to strike. However, she had her horn already lit up and waiting, ready for her next attack. There was a three second pause of silence, which was broken by Bunsen Burner: “Time,” he said. He moved off of her to her right side and offered a hoof to help her up, which she took, then quickly righted herself to her own four hooves.

“That was an excellent practice session,” he said, a small smile on his face, “You are making marked progress, and the improvisation with your magic was a nice touch as well.”

Trixie smiled back in return. She knew that he wasn't lying to save face with her; if the old stallion said it he legitimately meant it, and she was proud of her achievement. She was getting ever closer to actually being able to legitimately defend herself should the need arise. It was one step closer to learning how to fight for real; one step closer to Sparkle.

She shook her head a little, “How could you have possibly known what my plan was?”

“It’s a unicorn’s greatest crutch,” he said with a smirk, “You can’t resist the chance to use your horns.”

“So you were trained to fight magic users?”

“With the help of the master minotaur who instructed me I was taught how to fight most every species recognized by the Dawn Compact: any equine race, Diamond Dogs, Griffons, Minotaurs.”

“I suppose dragons are just a bit too large to fight anyway, huh?”

“Depends on their size, though I have put some thought towards it should I have to confront one.”

Trixie just looked at him skeptically, unsure if he was actually serious or if he was just playing a joke on her. He just looked back at her passively.

“Really? What is the likelihood of that happening at all?”

He shrugged slightly, “It’s always best to prepare.”

Trixie audibly scoffed and shook her head as she turned away, “And the next thing I know you’ll be training me to fight vamponies and other terrors of the night! Should I keep cloves of garlic and sanctified water on me at all times?”

Bunsen Burner walked towards a chair, “The vampony myth,” he paused as he sat down with a sigh, “was born out of ignorance and superstition regarding the bat pony herd, or as they prefer to be called the Antrozi. Their disposition toward epileptic fits was believed by many early ponies of the three primary races to be signs of demonic influence.”

Trixie slid the chair she had tried to weaponized earlier towards him, and sat back into it as it came to a stop beneath her rump. “So we can effectively rule out at least one training session at least,” she said a little sarcastically.

“It is occasionally fruitful to entertain ideas without accepting them as truth,” he replied, “While I’m certain vamponies as our culture understands them do not exist, it doesn’t necessarily mean they don’t in some unprecedented form. If they did, the first place to start in determining their weaknesses would be in ancient folklore.”

Trixie arched an eyebrow as she listened, "You seemed a lot more skeptical about legends and myths when you were younger.”

Bunsen Burner gazed off into space for a moment, then lightly moved his head side to side as if trying to shake something away and inhaled deeply, “I had a change of perspective.” He then looked right into her eyes, “Sometimes, Ms. Lulamoon, myths can come to life; they’re just not always the happy ones.”

YOL 975

The wheels of the carriage creaked as they rolled over the uneven soil of the road. The sun was nowhere to be found on the horizon, shrouded behind thick clouds that rolled up to the mountains, obscuring the view of their peaks from below. The winding road that the carriage travelled led up to a small plateau region just before where the earth turned skyward. It was in the late afternoon that it was finally brought to a stop by its two drivers at the side of the road, and they, each a member of the Royal Guard, girded in golden armor, walked to the back of the carriage and entered into it. Waiting within were six other guardsponies of the three primary races and Bunsen Burner, who sat among them awkwardly. He had to admit that even now as an adult he was slightly intimidated by the way each of the mares and stallions carried themselves: fearless and collected, each focused on the upcoming assignment at hoof.

“Alright ponies, listen up,” the squad commander said as he unconsciously ruffled his wings, “We are now sitting about one klik outside of Slumber Hill. The town is one of the many tertiary mining communities here along our northern border with the various Griffon states, and it’s been dark now for almost two weeks: no communication or production in or out. Equestrian Intelligence is in the dark on the situation: we don’t know for sure if the cause of the inactivity is something as simple as a gas leak in the mines, Griffon bandits on a raiding party, or something of a more magical nature. Given his cross-disciplinary scientific aptitude, Princess Celestia has asked Bunsen Burner to help us assess the situation and hopefully resolve this matter in a swift fashion.”

The commander then took a map of the surrounding area from out of his satchel, opened it up, and spread it wide for all to see. “We’re currently positioned here,” he pointed with the tip of his wing to the south of Slumber Hill, then he traced a path to the opposite side of town, “The mine is to the north. We will enter as a singular group: our priority is the defense of Mr. Burner. We will make our way to the mine, acquire reconnaissance, and determine whether it is still safe to use. Until we can determine the nature of the events here do not assume any locals are friendly; do not engage unless attacked first, and use minimal force if possible. Any questions?” All eyes looked to him, and they shook their heads. Satisfied with their answer, the commander rolled his map back up and put it away. “In that case, fillies and gentlecolts, let’s move!”

The squadron proceeded into the town slowly, each of its members warily scanning the empty houses they passed. The wind came down from the mountain, blowing through the town with an eerie whistle. Shutters lightly moved, creaking slowly back and forth. Rocking chairs, as if possessed by passive poltergeists, eased forward, and then fell back. The loose soil of the area made little clouds of dust as they took their hoofsteps. Even with the briefing he had been given before they had set out from Canterlot Bunsen Burner did not feel prepared, especially now that he was here. Still, he had kept his reservations to himself. He justled his saddle case full of equipment into a more comfortable position, being as careful as possible to avoid damaging any of the delicate detection equipment he carried. This wasn’t a town suffering from a gas leak, that much was evidently clear; not one soul had been found in any of the buildings the guards had searched. It was as if the entire population had simply up and left, leaving behind a very young ghost town in their wake. After several minutes of careful treading, they all approached the town’s main square. The centerpiece of the Slumber Hill community was the clocktower atop its small courthouse, its large cast iron hands still moving at their unrelenting, mechanical pace. It was 6:52. Within an hour’s time night would fall.

One of the sentries suddenly became alert and brought his spear closer to bear as he stared intently down one of the side streets.

“What is it?” a female Pegasus guard asked as she preemptively left the ground with a flap of her wings, ready for combat.

Squinting into the shadows, he let out a small breath, but his posture did not relax, “Don’t know, but something definitely moved over there. We’re not alone.”

The squad commander’s eyes narrowed and he brought his wings tighter to his barrel, “Until we find out what happened here we must press on. Stay on your walls ponies.”

Those guards that had spears gripped them tighter, while the unicorns lit up their horns, ready to cast a concussive spell if necessary. The march northward past the courthouse somehow found a way to be even more intense than the situation had previously been. Bunsen looked at each of his guards, gaging how they were feeling: they were on edge, certainly, but they were not afraid. He took some small comfort from that, but he also began to think: if there were something like a group of bandits that had caused this mass exodus, why were they not facing them directly? To be able to threaten a town this size there would have to most certainly be more than the nine of them. Why the stealth?

On top of the building to their left a few tufts of feathers appeared over the edge of its roof, followed by a set of golden eyes. The guards spotted the being and went into attack position, forming ranks around their asset.

“You there!” the squad commander yelled, “Come out where we can see you: we are soldiers of the Equestrian crown! Surrender peacefully and you will not be harmed!”

The group then heard frenzied shushing, before a set of talons shot up in the air. A young male griffon with dark brown feathers and grey down, clearly fresh from adolescence, flew down to meet them with his forelegs still raised. “Keep your voices down,” he whispered hoarsely before quickly looking around, “It could have heard us!”

“What could have heard us?” Bunsen asked.

The griffon again made a shushing sound before he looked nervously at each of them, then he whispered again, “There’s some kind of monster in this town. It’s taken everyone down into the mine to some kind of nest!”

The commander looked to one of the unicorns and discretely nodded. The unicorn guard’s horn lit up with amber light, and he pointed it directly at the griffon.

“Why are you in this village,” the commander whispered to the stranger.

“I came down here to make a couple bits for my family; worked in the foundry as an apprentice.”

The unicorn’s horn flashed green before returning to its usual color. “What is your name?”

“Abner.”

Again the horn flashed green.

The commander stoically registered the confirmation that the griffon was telling the truth, and then he looked him square in the eyes, “Tell us about this monster.”

Abner nervously shifted his weight from back leg to back leg, all the while glancing this way and that, “I can’t say when it came to town, but it was about a month ago that ponies started disappearing. First it was just one a night, but then it became dozens. Now there’s only me left.”

“You said it was nesting down in the mine?”

Abner began hyperventilating, “It already has the rest of the town: maybe 80-something of us. The mines are deep enough that it could store hundreds!”

The commander put a hoof up and patted the griffon on the shoulder, “Alright son, calm down. It’s alright. We’re here to help, but we need to know what we’re up against. Can you describe the creature? Did it have any unique features?”

Abner began to calm down, and he unconsciously began to nod his head a little, and he trembled a little as he spoke, “It looks like a pony from a distance, but one with a black coat. It’s got a jagged horn, but it’s also got a set of wings: wings like a bug though!”

Bunsen Burner’s ears perked up at this information, and he came closer to the youth, “Black coat, a horn, and bug wings?”

The griffon nodded vigorously, “Yes.”

“Was its body full of holes? Did it have a sort of shell on its back, or a striped midsection?”

“Yes,” he whispered again in fright.

“Do you know this beast, Mr. Burner,” the squad commander asked as he looked over to him.

“Only by reputation,” the stallion replied as he adjusted his glasses, “The boy’s given a generic description of a Changeling.”

The soldier shook his head, “Never heard of them.”

The scientist shrugged, “Not many have: they were the subject of a few early myths before the Monarchial era. They’re described as creatures that feed on emotion, snatching up others to hide them away, taking their place with the loved ones none the wiser.”

The commander pawed the ground as he thought to himself, “Is it possible this kind of creature could exist?”

Bunsen Burner scoffed, then chuckled, “Hardly! If they had existed they’d have overtaken all of the sentient races by now as the dominant species, what with their supposed abilities and the difficulty in detecting them. They’re simply the product of superstitious early folk: more likely than not it’s just the work of a very resourceful and knowledgeable pony who’s using those old tales to their own advantage.”

“That still leaves us with a town full of missing ponies and others though,” the commander declared. He then looked up to the sky; the light was beginning to fade, and the first stars were coming out. “We’ve lingered too long, whatever the case,” he said, then he signaled for a full trot, “We still need to ascertain the situation: we don’t want to be here once night falls, mythical creature or no.”

The northern outskirts of the town led into more hilly, rocky terrain. The royal guards’ eyes scanned all over their surroundings, each crag a potential hiding spot for the enemy, each boulder a means of cover. The path to the mine was accompanied by a set of tracks that allowed an easy means of transporting iron ore from the mine to the outside world. The group of ten kept to this track as they descended down to the entrance of the mine.

“I’m not picking up any signs of life besides us out here,” a unicorn soldier said as his horn’s magic vanished, “It could be that we managed to avoid the monster while it skulks around the town for us.”

“Or that it’s patiently waiting for us to come into its nest,” an earth pony guard replied.

Bunsen Burner overheard their whispers, as did Abner. The young griffon shivered to himself a little, but he kept walking. The earth pony looked over to the lad, and he sympathized with him. At the same time, however, he was curious.

“Why are you coming with us,” he asked softly, “I would think after what you’ve experienced this is the last place you’d want to be.”

The griffon looked back to him for a moment, but his eyes quickly drifted away, “You guys are the best chance Slumber Hill has to go back to the way it was, and I need to help.” The young griffon winced and grimaced to himself, “When…it came to the foundry, I hid. It took my friends, Winter Breeze, and Sunny Day.”

Bunsen nodded to himself, and his heart filled with compassion for him: the poor kid had seen everyone he knew taken from him, and he blamed himself for what he saw as cowardice.

“Are Winter Breeze and Sunny Day special to you?” he asked.

He nodded a little, “Winter is the old timer who took me in. I never can thank him enough for what he did for me. Sunny-“ he choked up for a second, but shook his head a little, “Sunny was amazing. I never got to tell her-“

“Don’t start thinking like that,” Bunsen insisted as he put a foreleg around the boy’s shoulder, “You can’t give up hope yet. I don’t think they would want you to. We’ll find them and rescue them, and whatever comes our way the royal guard can handle.”

The griffon looked at him gloomily, “You really think we have a chance?”

“These are some of the finest soldiers Equestria has to offer,” he reassured him as he brought his hoof back down, “and I think the fact you are even here means deep down you want to see your friends and family again, and that you think we do too.”

The entrance to the mine now loomed before them all, silent and deep, waiting for them to enter into its reach. Each of them was quiet, each with some small trepidation entered into the looming darkness. The unicorn members of the squad lit their horns, softly illuminating the cavern with amber and rose pink light.

“I don’t like this,” the earth pony guard from before whispered, “Going into an enclosed space with no foreknowledge? This is damned suicide.”

Bunsen Burner, though not a tactician, was swiftly becoming likeminded on the matter. The pony responsible for the town’s abduction had to have stumbled across some sort of magical artifact or be incredibly resourceful: why was there no resistance barring their way?

“I’m not picking up any magical traps,” a unicorn squad member called out softly, “but there are definitely lifesigns further in.”

“How many,” the commander asked.

The unicorn paused to count quickly, “At least half a gross. They’re all alive but unconscious, and they’re scattered all around. There’s nothing around that looks like our mystery abductor.”

As they went further down, now at a much quicker pace, they realized the tunnel began to open into a much wider area, and that a greenish glow emanated from beneath their field of view. When the first of the royal guard came into the large cavern, she approached a nearby crank elevator and looked over the edge to the floor below. She audibly gasped before calling, “Commander.”

“What is it,” he asked immediately before he stopped and gazed down, and his eyes grew large, “By the sun and stars.”

Bunsen and Abner couldn’t resist the urge to look now, and they hurried along with the others to see what was so astonishing. Pods littered the cavern floor, pulsating softly as each fed its occupant the nutrients they needed to remain alive. Each pod was connected to another of its own by fibrous webbing, which anchored them to the floor and walls.

“Alright,” the earth pony scientist declared out loud as he adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat, “I’m willing to reassess my position on the ‘clever, knowledgeable pony’ theory.”

“We need to get everyone out of here as quickly as possible,” the commander exclaimed as they all entered the elevator, released the weights keeping it up, and slowly descended, “We have no idea when the Changeling will be back!”

Bunsen really wanted to chime in that they could not be for certain yet whether this was all truly the work of a Changeling, but semantically it didn’t make much difference: whatever had imprisoned these ponies was potentially hostile, and most definitely parasitic, and therefore was a threat.

Each of the ten beings immediately exited the lift once it hit the ground level, and they ran to the nearest pod they could reach. Bunsen Burner reached into his pack for a small wooden case and opened it: it held a set of five scalpels. Selecting the one with the longest blade, he approached the pod before him. He wasn’t sure if the pony inside was alright, but he wiped a buildup of condensation and a mucus like substance off the area where his or her face should be. It was a Pegasus male, and he looked perfectly healthy, as if he were asleep in his bed rather than a suspension of green gel. Bunsen inserted his minute blade at the base, and dexterously craned his neck to cut an incision all the way across the pod wall. A rush of liquid flowed out of the damaged cell, flooding over his hooves, leaving a quickly drained pod and still unconscious pony. He then slipped his hoof into the membrane and pulled it up like a hatch, and the Pegasus stallion fell into his awaiting hooves. He then laid the pony on his side, figuring it would help to drain the potential fluid in his lungs, and moved onto the next pod. He checked the pony inside just like the last one: an earth pony female in healthy condition. After freeing her he went to check back on his first released captive. He was murmuring to himself, coughing up pod fluid as he did. Happy to know they could hopefully make a quicker escape with the victims waking up, he turned to his third pod. The occupant definitely had wings he noticed as he approached, as they were flared out. If he had to guess this one had struggled against their captor before succumbing. He cleared away the mucus covering the occupant’s face, and then he ground to a halt, his breath catching in his throat. A male griffon was in this pod, his eyes half lidded, but his beak open in a silent scream. The patterns on his down, his feather color, his eyes, literally everything about this griffon was an exact replica of…

Bunsen slowly turned, doing his best not to show the fear which now sat in his stomach like a boulder. The guardsponies were all hastily emptying as many pods as they could, but standing in the middle of them all was Abner. In their rush to save the civilians they hadn’t noticed the griffon’s change in demeanor, as they had become distracted by the cavern’s revelations. The boy who had once played the part of being scared out of his mind and worried for the safety of others now scanned each of them coldly, certainly as a predator, but more than just a griffon.

Before Bunsen could turn away the boy’s yellow eyes locked onto his greyish blue ones, and they stared at each other. The pupil dilation, prolonged eye contact, the small amount of sweat trailing down his head, the chemicals oozing out of the earth pony's pores caused by stress, these were all dead giveaways.

It knew he knew.

There was no sign that it cared for its discovery now, whether fear or worry, but in the eerie light given off by the glowing pods, he was absolutely certain he saw its eyes flash from gold to a set of alien, green pupils, then back to gold.

He yelled out to the other ponies, “Get back from the-“

Before he could finish warning the others the griffon lunged faster than he ever expected it could, and it reached out at him with its right set of talons. The flesh of the forelimb transformed into a black, amorphous substance that lashed out at him with incredible speed, slamming him against the wall behind him. The air was completely driven from his body, and dark red walls closed around his vision.

“Hmph,” he heard the griffon doppelganger exhale, with an almost audible smirk, “I like you. You’re last.”

The guards were alerted to the presence of the monster in their midst, Bunsen barely processing that they were trying to make a stand against it. There were flashes of magic, but the creature morphed around them, its proportions stretching like taffy around the attacks in a nauseating fashion. The pegasi tried to dive and stab at it with their spears. The creature grew tendrils of black mass from out of its back, snatching the first pony’s weapon away and snapping it in half, then it whipped the spearhead around to fly spinning through the air at the retreating assailants.

Knowing he had little time before he completely blacked out, Bunsen reached for his scalpel, and stuck it into the young griffon’s pod. Now breached, it began to slowly leak out the suspension onto the cavern floor.

He fought, his mind blurrily pieced together, maybe he has…

Bunsen turned onto his back so he wouldn’t breathe in the fluid, and as he fell into unconsciousness he heard the screams and whimpers of those who had been sent to protect him, all of them powerless against the monstrosity they now faced.

Chapter 9

Cool air blew across Bunsen Burner’s face, causing him to stir against the sensation. As he slowly came back to reality from bleak dreams he realized that his hooves were bound by some kind of elastic substance. Opening his eyes slowly he saw he was still down in Slumber Hill’s mine, glowing pods surrounding him on all sides. Stuck down in this hole in the ground he had no idea of how much time had passed since he and his guards had entered in.

That thought stirred him to awaken fully: his guards! Where were they? What had happened to them after he had blacked out? His head and torso not restrained, he lurched himself to look to the right, but only found access tunnels leading further into the mine. It was much the same to the left. While he had been straining to look around he saw movement: it was a griffon. The way it carried itself though, with its aloof posture and smirk, made him confirm without a doubt that this was the doppelganger. It looked up at him as he struggled against his bounds, much like a spider gazing at its next meal, and it smiled all the more.

“There’s no point, you know,” it said in its masculine voice, “Struggling, I mean. There’s no one to look for you down here, and no guards to save you.” Its grin disappeared, leaving just a small frown in its place, “You’re alone with me, and you've cost me a great deal of work.”

“What have you done with them,” Bunsen asked as he still tried to rip his hooves free, “Where are my guards?”

The griffon slinked closer to him and chuckled, “Oh, let’s not get caught up in trivialities like that. Let’s talk about you, Bunsen Burner.” It slowly brought its face closer to his, “First, though, I’d like a change of attire, wouldn't you agree? It’s hard to have fun with your clothes on.”

Bunsen looked down as the griffon’s paws suddenly burst into green colored flame, and watched as the magical combustion traveled up the creature’s skin, leaving behind a black, porous exoskeleton. The fire traveled up its body, revealing its insectoid wings and thorax. Right before the flames reached its face its eyes once again flashed predatory green, and then it stood before him naked and nightmarish. Now without disguise, Bunsen could see that the Changeling most definitely had a feminine figure. Shocked by her appearance, he watched as her mane which had hung limp around her head now seemed to come to life. Without any visible influence from her horn whatsoever, the strands of long hair lifted into the air behind her head, and wove around each other until they formed a ponytail that hung down and touched her back. Her wings jittered, and something that sounded like a cross between a clearing of her throat and a faint vibration like a rattlesnake’s tail came from deep within her.

She cocked her head and blinked. “My name is Bruco. Am I not beautiful?” she asked.

The question hung in the air in such a way that the earth pony couldn't help but feel that it was weaponized.

“You are,” he began, then searched for the words he needed as her dark-slitted pupils pierced him, “Unlike anything I've ever seen.”

She silently stared at him for several seconds. It felt like an eternity, waiting, wondering what this predator would do.

A soft cooing laughter escaped her lips, and then she grimaced, her sharp incisors fully visible, “You are a charmer! Quick on your hooves as well.” She leaned even closer, her face almost meeting his, and she whispered in a husky tone, “I like that very much.”

She then withdrew, turning away from him as she did, and spawned an emerald curved dagger, wickedly sharp, with a small notch in its blade. She nonchalantly twirled it in the air as she glanced back at her prisoner, “It’s been so very long since I've gotten a chance to talk with someone before you all showed up. With none of my sisters or drones around it’s been very lonely.”

Bunsen’s eyes grew as wide as saucers, “There are more than just you?”

“Well of course, my sweet,” she purred, “It wouldn't be a Changeling race if there was only one of us! Although, at least for the moment, it seems there’s only me.”

“How-“ he tried to ask, but she silenced him with a soft shushing as well as laying her knife next to his neck, just close enough that he could feel it grazing his coat.

“No no no! This won’t do! You see, my sweet, we’re having a dialogue. I've told you something about myself, now I want you to give me a morsel. Let’s start with that love I feel inside you. Who is that for?”

Bunsen couldn't tear his eyes off the blade near his jugular, but he finally said, “Lily. Lily Cloverhoof.”

Bruco nodded slowly and smiled, “Good boy. You’re smart to tell me the truth. Do you want to know how I know?”

“You interrogated the others,” he replied.

“Tortured would be more accurate,” she declared as she calmly walked in a circuit, first to her right, then to her left, “but I didn't have to for this sort of thing: I can fool your unicorn’s spells, but your emotions let me know when you’re telling the truth.”

Bunsen’s face blanched, “If you could tell whether I was lying or not why did you bother to torture them?”

She gazed back at him with a perverted, wicked smile and once again began to walk towards him, “Because pain is beautiful. I can feed off any emotion: succulent love, spicy anger, thick sadness, but normally it takes so much effort winnowing them out of the heartstrings of you lesser beings, so much effort for so little flavor or substance. Sometimes when the mood strikes me I just like to,” she brought her knife away to twirl it in front of his face, and then it vanished, “cut out all the boring bits. Now, is Lily your marefriend?”

Bunsen Burner was so absolutely repulsed by this creature and its twisted view of the world that he didn't immediately answer. How could something like this abomination truly exist in a Celestia created world? He had always believed that evil, or actions deemed evil, was simply the product of ignorance of the offending party against the victim, that such behavior could be changed if a being was taught proper ethics and empathy. This was different. This was evil of a premeditated nature, carried out methodically and fully aware of the suffering it caused others.

Bruco spawned her knife once again, lazily turning it end over end, bringing it closer to his neck once again, “It’s very rude to ignore someone when they are asking a question. I would hate to have to punish you before we have fun.”

“She’s my wife,” he growled at her.

“Oohoo!” she exclaimed to herself as she brought her blade to a stop, “Look at all the anger boiling up inside you. Have I touched a nerve? What color is her coat? Her mane?”

“It’s my turn to ask a question,” he curtly replied.

There was a pause as she silently glared up at him. He for his part stared right back.

She then laughed to herself, “I knew there was a reason I picked you! You've got spirit!” Her voice then dropped in volume and tone, “I’ll have fun making you submit. What is your question?”

“You said you were alone,” he began, but then he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. The griffon from earlier, the original for sure, was watching the display below, silently making his way down on his claws and paws, doing everything to stay out of sight of the monster below.

“That’s not a very good question, sweet,” Bruco replied, “Best not to waste my time by being Captain Obvious.”

Doing his best not to give a sign to his captor, he continued, “Where are your sisters and drones?”

The initially perturbed attitude she had vanished, replaced by a blank expression, which after a few minutes gave way to a smirk, “They’re sleeping, like I once was. For now, without my Queen Chrysalis to command me, I might as well be my own royalty. I’m living my deepest desire! To be a Changeling is to crave solidarity, but to be a Candidate is to crave superiority. I can take what I want, live how I wish, and now, with the strength of nearly a hundred inside me, I will take to living in your precious Canterlot.”

She suddenly rushed towards him with a speed as if she had teleported, bringing herself face to face with her captive audience. Bunsen involuntarily hissed in surprise at the quick movement.

“I’ll keep you here, nicely tucked away for now,” she whispered softly to him, “while I stagger back to the capital, the lone survivor of a doomed patrol, struck with amnesia by events too horrific to recall. Fortunately my wife will be by my side to help me through my recovery.” She then smirked and chuckled to herself, “She might even enjoy my increased level of passion towards her after these traumatic times.”

Bunsen froze as it took him a moment to process the audacity of what his tormentor had said, but then he began to struggle against his bonds even harder, fuming to himself as he waited. Seeing the half buried rage in his face, Bruco went for another emotional jab, not noticing the stirring air as the griffon youth came down from above on quiet wings, “After all, we draw closest to those who matter most after a hard struggle, don’t we my sweet? Oh we will draw very, very close.”

The griffon swooped down, now revealing himself with a primal screech and war cry. Grabbing up the Changeling in his sharp talons, the youth rocketed back up towards the cavern ceiling, using his leftover horizontal momentum to throw Bruco against the nearest rock wall as hard as he could. Shocked by the suddenness of the divebomb attack, she did not have time to change her shape or density, and she slammed against a poorly reinforced wall, plowing straight through the rock into an open area. The thick wooden beams near that area groaned under the shift in forces, bending slowly until they collapsed altogether, creating a small cave-in.

The Griffon quickly descended and approached Bunsen, using his talons to slice through the ensnaring goo around his limbs.

“We don’t have much time,” the young bird declared, “That thing is probably stunned, but it will be up again in a few minutes.” Without ceremony he turned and spread his wings, “Climb on.”

Flummoxed by the griffon’s straight forward and most likely uncomfortable request, Bunsen hesitated.

“Now,” the boy yelled.

A green light emanated from beneath the rocks near the cave-in, and they began to shudder slightly. Wasting no more of their precious time, Bunsen hopped onto the griffon’s back and wrapped his hooves above his wing joints. With a running start the griffon took off, putting as much power as he could into his wing, bringing the both of them closer to the entrance above.

“Thanks for rescue,” Bunsen declared.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” the griffon replied, “I owe you after all. You recalled me to life, so I’m indebted to you.”

From below there came the sound of a sharp but muffled shriek which made both their coats ruffle. Looking back over his shoulder Bunsen saw that the light beneath the rocks was now even more intense than before, as if the Changeling was trying to burn her way through the rocks.

Panicked thoughts ran through his mind, and as they peaked over the highest ridge in the cavern that lead to the way out, Bunsen spoke as quickly as he could, “If we want to survive this we need a plan: We share names, dates of birth, useless information, that way if we are separated we can be sure we’re not being tricked.”

“Good,” the griffon replied simply as he flew them up through the tunnel’s mouth, its length running steadily upward, “I’m Zephaniah, born in ’58. I’m a Southern Griffon of the New Bloods.”

“Bunsen Burner, ’49, born in Pferdshire. What’s your favorite color? Say the first one that comes to mind!”

“Black,” the griffon yelled as he careened around a sharp corner, almost plastering the both of them against the wall with his speed, but he didn't dare slow down. Bunsen gritted his teeth in alarm, but continued, “The Changeling knows my name, so it’s not safe. Call me Mr. Brown. You’ll be Mr. Black. If it finds out about that, I’m Bravo-Zebra-Bravo-4-9, and you’re Zebra-Foxtrot-Indigo-5-8.”

“Right,” he replied, and then hurriedly began to repeat the information back to himself, “Mr. Black, Zebra-Foxtrot-Indigo-5-8, Mr. Brown, Bravo-Zebra-Bravo-4-9.”

A brighter area suddenly appeared before them; the way out was just ahead! The two survivors shot out of the cavern like a brown bullet, but Bunsen could tell that his compatriot was straining himself to the limit even before they began their descent. They managed to at least make it to the outskirts of Slumber Hill before Zephaniah could fly no further. The griffon came to an ungraceful landing, tossing Bunsen over his shoulder by mistake, who landed with a grunt on the long, dry grass of the surrounding area.

“We need to get out of the open,” the earth pony declared with no time to waste, taking off at a gallop, “Where’s the foundry?”

“Northeast side of town,” Zephaniah gasped between large gulps of air as he followed behind, “Why?”

“No magic or weapon is going to stop this thing, and if it actually decides to leave, it could threaten everypony and everyone at large.” The full consequences of the scenario didn't hit Bunsen until he said them out loud, and then he realized what few options there were to deal with this monstrosity: no magic, no weapons they knew that could truly harm it, no means of containment, and it would not be reasoned with.

“How do we kill it,” Zephaniah asked.

The idea, the very utterance of the word made the earth pony uncomfortable. He began to feel nausea building in him, but he did his best to suppress it, “I have an idea, but I need to know what’s inside the foundry first. Do they have a casting operation there, or just forging?”

“I never worked there, but I used their parts to help keep the clock tower working: they do cast pieces.”

The two of them saw the entrance to the foundry, a set of light aluminum doors on a swing hinge. Bunsen burst through the doors first, with Zephaniah not far behind. The forges were quiet and cold, and there was hardly any light but for the moon shining through the windows at the top of the foundry floor. The earth pony’s eyes twitched all around, scanning for what he prayed to be in the building. Then he saw a large tempered wood container on the far side of the room. He galloped over to it, and reached in to see what was inside. What he brought up in his hooves was clumpy, black sand. He brought it close to his face and took a breath through his nose; the smell was just like an oil canister.

Bunsen quietly laughed as a small sense of relief came over him, “Petrobond! Thank the stars.” He then turned to the griffon youth and called out to him, “Find as big of a bucket as you can carry. See if there are any ‘Strike Anywhere’ matches nearby too!”

“Got it,” he replied, and took to the air to see what he could find nearby. On the far side of the foundry he saw a red pail, which he swooped down and snatched into his claws. Bunsen meanwhile searched all over for any more oil that he could find, whether in cans or drums. “Catch,” the griffon said from above as he dropped his cargo directly in front of the earth pony, who caught it mid-fall.

Bunsen then quickly went back to the casting sand bin and scooped as quickly as he could. “What’s the absorption rate of petroleum based casting sand,” he murmured to himself, but then he quickly shook his head, “Doesn’t matter now; just needs to be more viscous.”

About nine scoops later the red bucket was two-thirds of the way full with unpacked casting sand. He then began to pour oil on top of it from the few cans he had found. The foul smelling liquid flowed down into the sand, which began to slowly oversaturate, causing the mixture to rise to the surface. Looking for anything nearby as a stirring instrument, he snatched up a broom and used its handle to mix the slurry together more thoroughly. When the process was all said and done the desperate scientist had created a thick, oily molasses-like concoction.

“Is it ready,” he suddenly heard from behind him. Bunsen whirled around to see that his griffon partner had snuck up behind him. He visibly tensed, snatched up the bucket, and took a step back. “Woah, it’s alright,” the youth exclaimed hurriedly as he waved his talons, “It’s me!”

“Prove it,” he yelled back, “Where was I born?”

“Pferdshire,” the griffon blurted, then fired back, “What’s my heritage?”

“Southern Griffon, New Blood,” the earth pony replied with a sigh, then relaxed. This was the real one, he was certain. “Did you find the matches,” he asked after a few moments of silence.

“Yeah,” the youth replied and then produced a matchbook from his wing, held between his feathers.

“Give them here,” he replied before quickly shoving the red bucket into the boy’s face, “Hang on to this and stick to the rafters; whenever you get the chance dump it all over her.”

“What about you,” the griffon asked after he had dropped the matches in front of him. Before he was able to reply a green light suddenly appeared from underneath the front doors to the foundry. It slowly grew in intensity as it moved closer to the center of the entrance, and the both of them could hear the soft hoof falls of their hunter. Bunsen silently signaled in an exaggerated gesture for Zephaniah to ascend with his cargo, which the griffon quickly did. He then picked up the matchbook in his mouth and stood his ground.

The eerie green beneath the doors dimmed temporarily before surging in intensity. The aluminum swing doors blasted off of their hinges, cartwheeling into the foundry. Hellish emerald flames licked the air from the Changeling’s horn, her eyes quickly locking onto the stallion waiting for her. Bunsen did his best to remain composed, but the way in which her gaze bore right through him was incredibly intimidating.

“It’s rude to leave a girl before the date’s over my sweet,” she said without even the false sense of levity she had once had as she entered the building. She then conjured up an identical pair of her curved knives and flicked them in the air as she stalked forward, “Why did you have to make me hurt you? I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep you alive now, even for your delicious love.”

Bunsen steeled himself and looked her dead in the eye, “Go back to Tartarus, parasite.”

Zephaniah took this as his cue to do his part, and he dove down from above, slurry at the ready. In just a fraction of a second, Bruco let loose her throwing knives. The first streaked upward towards the griffon, who had to violently steer away from his original trajectory to avoid it tunneling directly into his skull. The oily mixture’s stream arced wide, splashing to the left of its target with only a few drops actually hitting her. The second knife soared across the room straight for Bunsen’s chest, who jumped out of the way just enough that it didn’t impact into his sternum, but instead plunged into his right shoulder. The stallion yelled in pain and dropped his match book. The blade however did not dissipate, but instead began to slowly wriggle back and forth, making it feel like lightning was coursing up his entire limb. The pain was too much for Bunsen, and he crumpled to the ground, the matches lying right next to his mouth.

Bruco grinned at the sight of him falling, and then focused her attention on the young one in the air above, sending tendrils of her now fluid-like limbs after him, swiping them viciously about to try and take out Zephaniah’s wings. For his part the boy was doing quite well evading her black whips, descending away from them and zigzagging around them. Even through his agony Bunsen hoped that he was descending on purpose as part of some plan, in which case he needed to be ready. He slowly began to stand again, blood trickling down his leg, and gingerly opened the matchbook.

When the griffon was low enough, Bruco’s eyes flashed, and she smiled, “Got you.” She lunged upward, and as she came into range Zephaniah brought his bucket of casting sand to the ready. Expecting him to release the last of his prized black liquid early, Bruco shifted to the right in midair, contorting around to his side in an attempt to outflank him. Zephaniah seemed to have expected this, and instead hurled it towards where she was going to be instead. The Changeling strafed right into the oil slurry, becoming drenched in its ooze, and lost balance. Blindly she lashed out with a hardened black, sickle-like appendage which just grazed through the griffon’s downy feathers and across his chest. Zephaniah squawked as he fell away from her onto a dry area of the floor, while Bruco fell back into the slush that had been spilled earlier.

The pain in Bunsen’s shoulder dulled as the magical construct within him evaporated. The Changeling writhed on the floor, ungraciously trying to stand up in the oil slick and falling over, while haphazardly striking in any direction she could reach. Seeing his opening, and without putting any more thought in his actions, Bunsen took the match in between his teeth and struck it against the floor. The new source of light was blinding to all of them, each combatant having grown accustomed to the darkness they had been in. The earth pony spat the match straight at the downed monster.

Even without her full sight, the Changeling transformed her left foreleg into a thin razor whip and sliced at the tiny flicker in the dark. The match was cut in two by her strike, the head still aflame. Both the earth pony and the griffon’s hearts stopped for a beat, as they believed their survival was now forfeit. The match head tilted downward under the influence of gravity, and a small ember fell right next to the retreating Changeling’s limb as it passed. The ember was enough, and the spark set alight Bruco’s limb. Shrieking, the bug instinctively drew her foreleg back, and the flames began to crawl up her entire body.

His idea having succeeded, Bunsen noticed he couldn’t maintain his balance anymore, and he slowly fell onto his side. Darkness was at the edge of his vision, but so also was Zephaniah, who through his murky consciousness he saw more than heard say, “We have to get out of here.”

The sound that woke him from his stupor caused by shock and blood loss was the unearthly scream that the Changeling let out as it burned alive, its entire body a funeral pyre. Even as it stumbled about in the burning oil it lay in, he saw that it was even now still trying to reach out at them, still trying to gain footing and kill them both. It was enough to drive the stallion’s mind wide awake, and he galloped after his griffon companion who led him to a side entrance out of the foundry.

The two survivors ran out into the now cold night air, but the distance didn’t seem to make a difference when it came to hearing the monster’s dying agony. An orange flicker could be seen from the upper windows of the foundry as they came to a stop and looked back. Bunsen barely registered the fact that Zephaniah left him to find bandages for their wounds, all he could concentrate on was the glow of the fire, the fire he had used to end the monster.

“I killed it,” he murmured brokenly to himself, “I killed it.” It was all he could think or say to himself for many hours after that. He wasn’t sure what horrified him the most: the creature he had seen and what it had revealed to him, or what he had done to ensure his own survival.

Trixie stared aghast at her tutor as he finished his story. The creature… the town…and the foundry…it was all too much. It was absolutely horrific.

“What,” she tried to say, but she first had to clear her throat, “What happened next?”

“We made contact with Canterlot after we made repairs to the town’s telegraph lines,” Bunsen explained, “They were most likely damaged before too many ponies had gone missing. I then waited for an escort back, while in the mean time we freed the townsfolk from their pods. They were all alive, but jarred from their experience.”

The showmare thought over his choice of wording and then nervously asked, “So your guards were all-“

“Mmhm,” he nodded, then sighed deeply before closing his eyes, “They received the highest honors for their service. Upon my return to the capital I had an immediate debriefing with both the Princess and a select few other ponies in her private study, and I made a case for what needed to be done.”

Princess Celestia heard the entire train of events without so much as even a gasp. Director Acumen’s face had blanched, while Grand Magus Stargazer incredulously tapped his hooves together. The Captain of the Guard, a yellow-green pegasus mare named Merry Sprites, was blinking back tears and doing her best to wipe them away discreetly.

“If you would allow me to summarize,” Stargazer spoke up, “We have made contact with a species outside the knowledge of the Dawn Compact, one which appears to be, if not actually is, a Changeling.”

“Yes Grand Magus,” Bunsen replied quietly.

“It is capable of taking the appearance of any being it comes in contact with.”

“Yes,” he nodded.

“It is even able to fool a Lie Detection charm, and it cut down the best of our soldiers when outnumbered eight to one?”

Merry Sprites couldn’t help sobbing a little louder than before.

Bunsen simply nodded, “I’m sorry, but yes, by the stars it is true.”

Director Acumen leaned back in her chair, and slightly shook her head before bringing her forehooves up to her temples, “How do we even begin to consider this situation? I can hardly believe this old folklore is true!”

“I expect the best place would be to consider the brains and mettle brought to bear against this creature,” the Grand Magus replied as he stroked his beard lightly, “The royal guard clearly needs a review on its tactics and training.”

“Stargazer, enough,” Princess Celestia tried to say, but she was drowned out by the shout of her Captain of the Guard.

“DO NOT speak of what you DO NOT KNOW, RELIC,” Merry Sprite spat furiously, “My nephew was the one who cast those charms, who fought and died in that hole. If even he was fooled, you would have been butchered too!”

“ENOUGH,” the Princess boomed, having resorted to her use of the Royal Canterlot Voice, and the room came to a silent but tense calm.

“My apologies, Captain,” Stargazer at last declared in a legitimately doleful tone, “I meant no ill will to you or your dead.”

Merry Sprites offered no response but a silent grim stare even as her tears continued to flow.

“The Grand Magus has a point,” the Princess exclaimed as she tried to make progress, dragging the others along as she had to, ”We do need to find a new means of training our soldiers if we are to face this threat effectively. What has become of Zephaniah: he was able to stand up to the Changeling twice and live.”

“I’m keeping in touch with him as I’m able,” Bunsen replied, “but he has returned to his home in the southern states of the Confederacy. He hopes to be taken into the cloth.”

This brought everypony’s attention back to him.

“He’s becoming a priest,” the Captain asked, befuddled by the turn of events.

“Given his race I expect it’s not what you may think,” Director Acumen said while shaking a hoof in her direction, “He’s most likely attempting to curry favor with the Death Eagles, a neutral mercenary cult in griffon society that performs contract assassinations that help accelerate the fluctuation of power in their collection of states.”

“Damned crazed death worshippers,” Stargazer grumbled, “He is out of our reach then.”

“What would you suggest, Bunsen,” Princess Celestia asked as her gaze turned back to him, “You wouldn’t have called us together unless you had some input on what could be done.”

He nodded his head, “Neither magic nor our present military strategy is enough to combat these creatures. Only by combining our resources and seeking out the best combat masters will we ever stand a chance against the Changelings. I propose we create an initiative that will offer the best training, magic, and technology to our best troops. In addition, I’d ask that new departments for the Royal Science Division be opened, one that specializes in the studying of ‘mythical’ creatures, and one that could prepare contingency plans against presently unknown threats.”

“This had better not be a vain grab for power veiled under the guise of threat to our nation’s security,” the Grand Magus grumbled.

“We would pool all our resources; equal share of responsibility, and equal share of power,” Bunsen pointedly declared, “but we must act quickly! There is no telling how soon the other Changelings could be here among us, and by the time we’ll notice it will already be too late! We should not allow a repeat of what happened at Slumber Hill.”

“If these creatures are able to lie on a whim without us knowing, how can we be sure if anything the creature said to you is true,” Merry Sprites asked.

Bunsen’s face eventually fell, “I don’t know. Can we afford to be wrong though?”

The meeting was adjourned shortly afterward, and a decision was eventually made. A token increase of funding for everypony was agreed upon, and a coalition was created between the RSD, the Unicorn Guild, and the Royal Guard. Though the carnage left in the aftermath of the Changeling’s subjugation of Slumber Hill was evident, Grand Magus Stargazer only offered a few token unicorn mages to fulfill his end of the bargain, while still keeping his best and brightest to ensure the Guild’s own security in the hierarchy of Canterlot. The Captain and the Director, however, offered everything they had at their disposal. The Cryptozoology and Xenobiology branches of the RSD were founded in late 975, and the Guard’s paramilitary program brought in the greatest martial artists from around the world to train up skilled fighters.

After everything he had gone through, Bunsen was weary. He was shaken to his very soul by what he had seen, heard, and had to do. Months afterward he still didn’t eat or sleep well, but his work remained constant. He began slaving away at new ideas sixteen hour days, sleeping only six. There were many nights when he would be sound asleep in his bed with Lily in their home in Canterlot, but then the dreams of a burning insect would come for him, tormenting him until he woke with a shout. Each time upon waking she’d be there to try and comfort him, but there was only so much she could do, and Bunsen was brought to his limit. Therapy was helping, as his psychiatrist specialized in after action scenarios, but there was one thing that neither she nor his wife could help. As Bruco ran towards him every night, wreathed in flames, she would yell in a harsh, crackling voice, “There are more of us, and we are coming!”

Chapter 10

It was early morning, so early in fact that it was still dark outside. Bunsen Burner sat in his study browsing over one of his many books on arcane knowledge by candlelight. He was impressed with Trixie’s progress in combat, and she was already showing a greater understanding of the basics than he had expected, what with her only being under his tutelage for a month. Although an achievement, he had his suspicions as to why she was so successful: she had a score to settle, and a great deal of motivation towards the confrontation she was striving for.

Ms. Sparkle of course, he silently mused, then furrowed his brow, That must be rectified.

Compiling the lessons he had initially planned in his mind for the young mare, he made note to himself that while he had initially planned on teaching her magic at a much later date, this might be the perfect opportunity to address the issue, while also giving his charge a taste of the arcane she had been wanting all along.

“This must be handled a little more delicately than normal,” he murmured to himself, “A hooves off approach. She must come to her own conclusions.”

He snorted in frustration; he would have preferred the more direct method, but the mind is after all a more delicate instrument than he was used to handling, he knew that better than most. This alternative would hopefully work. It was left to the capricious hooves of fate. He closed the tome before him softly, and then stood from his desk. He hoped the both of them were ready for what he needed to do next.

“Today marks the beginning of your magic training,” Bunsen declared.

Trixie had initially been trying to blink the sleepiness out of her eyes as she came into their arena hall, but she was most definitely wide awake now. She had been looking forward to this, certainly, but since the old stallion hadn’t given any indication of when it would happen, she had simply pushed it to the back of her mind.

She blinked once again, staring in surprise at him, “Really?”

“Indeed,” he replied, “I think you’re more than ready to commence this part of your training.”

“So how is this going to work exactly,” she asked in confusion as she slowly leaned left and right on her hooves, “Are you going to bring in a unicorn friend to teach me?”

“Under normal circumstances I most certainly would,” he replied as he sat down in his chair, propped his back hooves up on a nearby stool, and opened his magic book from a few hours previous, “but everyone I trust is too far away to do this for me. For now, I will teach you.”

Trixie brought up a hoof, her mouth flying open as she took a breath in, then she pointed at him and closed her mouth, her eyes narrowing incredulously.

Bunsen nodded knowingly, “It’s not ideal I know, but I have epistemic knowledge of how magic works. With my understanding and your ability we’ll make one excellent unicorn.”

“This is like a deaf pony teaching music,” Trixie exclaimed flatly.

“Nothing’s impossible,” the old stallion replied, “After all, look at Beethooven.”

Setting his book down behind him on his chair, he nudged his hoof stool closer to her. He then spoke as he trotted to behind his chair, “Now, given your aptitude for stage magic and illusions, perhaps we will start off with something challenging but within your grasp.”

He then opened a small box containing ten vials and selected one with his mouth before trotting over to stand in front of her once again.

Trixie puffed out her chest subconsciously and smiled as she took a seat, “What is that you wish for the Great and Powerful Trixie to do?”

He moved the vial over to the side of mouth so he could speak more clearly, “I want you to create a fireworks display with your magic; really, any kind will do. I want to see your technical ability first before I ask any more of you.”

Trixie’s confident persona visibly wilted, and she brought her right hoof up to rub her left foreleg awkwardly, “I uh, didn’t actually do most of the pyrotechnics in my shows; they were just regular fireworks, no magic at all.”

Bunsen Burner’s looked away for a moment as he took in the information, but then looked her straight in the eye, “I believe you can do it. What have you learned about failure in your time with me?”

“It is our teacher,” Trixie replied.

“And it’s the only way we can be certain of our knowledge,” he finished for her. He gestured with his hoof and nodded, “Try,” before taking two steps back to give her space.

The showmare, unsure of herself at first, reviewed her mental catalogue of all the fireworks she could remember. She finally settled on one, and then looked up to her teacher.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he declared.

Trixie focused herself, letting all the nervousness flow out of her, closing her eyes as she did. When she felt centered, she opened them again, and her horn lit up. A spark flew up to the ceiling with a small whine, reached its apex a few feet away from a nearby chandelier, and popped. A magenta firework burst to life, creating a halo as it spun rapidly in the air, fizzling merrily as it descended. As it came closer to the both of them, the firecracker wobbled in the air, much like a top about to lose its balance.

“Stabilize it: smooth as a record” the old stallion demanded as he circled her, assessing her body language.

She tensed up, braced her back hooves against the floor, and poured more power into her horn. The firework became marginally flatter in its rotation, but the most obvious change was the increase in intensity of its light. Trixie gritted her teeth and snorted in frustration even as she squinted to look at her creation, and ramped up the magic going out to it.

Bunsen saw her joints begin to lock in place, her muscles spasming in erratic patterns. This was not healthy spellcasting.

“You can stop now,” he declared as he noticed her left ear begin to twitch, beads of sweat forming on her forehead, and her tail twitching back and forth moodily.

“No,” she replied in annoyance, “I can make it work.”

The firecracker’s intensity had increased to the point of it being a bright white corona, but it was now beginning to falter, wobbling up and down. Finally, Trixie reached her limit, and with a cry she was forced to let go of her enchantment. The firework exploded like a cloud of manganese dust, blinding her and scattering hot pink flames down on them. As the wisps landed they began to eat into the varnish of the oak wood floor.

Bunsen ripped the cork out of the vial he had been holding in his mouth, and cast its contents across the flames. Where the particles landed the flames abruptly snuffed out, leaving only a charred finish and a few black spots beneath.

“It’s not fair,” Trixie yelled with pent up frustration even as she curled up on the floor, where she had been tossed after the explosion of light. Her forehooves covering her eyes from the whiteness imprinted on them, “I know I can do it! I know I can, but I messed it up! It’s not right! Nothing’s been right since her!”

Bunsen Burner looked down at his student, considering her words. Finally he made his decision.

“I think we’re done for today,” he said softly.

“No, please,” she said as she tried to reach towards his voice, her eyes not completely registering where he was, “I can do better than this. Please just give me another chance!”

“I will, but it will be tomorrow,” he replied solemnly, “right now it is not safe for you to continue, physically or emotionally.”

She continued to lie on the floor, now sobbing softly as she remained overwhelmed by her own emotions, memories, and the whiteness. Bunsen gently reached down and guided her up into his chair, helping her to lean back into it. He then quietly left her to recuperate there, all the while thinking to himself, This is going to be more difficult than I had imagined.

The next day arrived, and Trixie was decidedly more somber than she had been. Her mane was frazzled, as she hadn’t bothered to do anything with it. She was still tired in every sense of the word, even after a night’s worth of sleep.

She is broken, was all Bunsen could think to himself initially. She looked very similar to the first day they had met, though the fear and false aloofness was replaced by depression and anger.

She is broken, he thought again to himself, but he thought further, Now it is time to reforge her.

“Today we’re going to focus on the three pillars of magic,” he tried to begin, but Trixie audibly huffed.

“You’re doing this because you think I’m weak, don’t you,” she asked miserably.

“I’m doing this because I want you to be the best that you can be,” he replied, “The methods you were using yesterday were unsafe, and you need to have the right education to use your magic effectively.”

She had no response to this, so she remained silent.

“Shall I continue,” he asked.

“Yes please,” she mumbled.

Bunsen then tapped the floor with his left hoof, each of them acting as emphasis for a word he immediately spoke, “Belief. Will. Harmony.” He paused to let them sink in before continuing, and as he began to lecture he slowly paced back and forth, “These are the fundamentals of a unicorn’s magic. Belief is your confidence in your own ability to perform your magic. It is defined by its absence: having little or no belief in your ability to perform a task will make it difficult if not impossible to do so, a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts.”

Trixie was trying her best to absorb the lesson, but the abstract nature of it was already starting to lose her. She sighed a little. Seeing he was losing his audience’s attention, Bunsen quickly thought of how best to change tactics. Perhaps what was best needed here was an analogy of sorts. As his eyes scanned the room for anything that might help, his gaze fell onto the hall’s fireplace and an object there on the mantelpiece.

“Magic is very much like an oil lamp,” he exclaimed as he nodded his head a little.

One of the mare’s eyebrows cocked as she looked up from her glazed trance to her would be instructor, “What?”

“Yes,” he exclaimed more to himself than her as he trotted over to grab his object lesson, “A controlled flame requires three things: materials to burn, a balanced mixture of fuel and air, and a spark.” He then brought the lamp to her and gently set it down in front of her. “Your belief is what acts as the stand and glass for the fuel and wick inside,” he offered as he gestured to each in turn, “No faith, no flame.”

He pointed to her, “You should have more confidence in yourself. You have great potential, and you should not squander it by thinking you aren’t good enough to accomplish your task.” He smirked with a determined look in his eye, “I’ve heard of the things the Great and Powerful Trixie can do, and the pony I see before me has surpassed even what she can achieve.”

Trixie stared at her teacher in a shocked state; her eyes that had once looked tired and worn were reinvigorated with an astonished sense of wonder.

“You can rise higher,” he continued, “Aspire to greatness; the only thing holding you back is yourself.”

“So what is the spark?” Trixie asked. It seemed she was now better able to focus on what the earth pony was trying to teach her.

“The spark is your willpower,” a discrete smile appeared on his face, “and from what I saw yesterday you have more than enough for five unicorns. Right now, however, that is part of what’s holding you back. Having no proper training, you settled into a pattern of brute force when it comes to magic, and doing so puts a great deal of stress on your body and mind.”

Trixie nodded as she took in the information, accepting the analysis, and then looked back to Bunsen, “And the last thing was fuel?”

“Fuel and air,” he corrected gently, “With all the oil in the world you still wouldn’t have a combustion reaction if you had no oxygen to help ignite it. You need harmony within yourself in order for your own magical reactions to work.”

“Okay, but what does it mean to have harmony within myself,” Trixie asked with some rather obvious impatience.

“It means that you are at peace with yourself, by leaving all negative emotions behind. Like I said, the only thing holding you back is yourself. If you have any deep seated regrets, over accentuated guilt, or hatred, it is holding you down, keeping you stuck in the past. The only way forward is to release yourself, and embrace a new you.”

Trixie’s expression of excitement slowly turned into a glare as she listened to the old pony talk. After he had finished, she silently fumed as she internally battled over what she wanted to do. She had been humiliated. She had been destroyed. She couldn’t go anywhere without being reminded of what she had experienced in Ponyville. How was she supposed to be able to get past that? Even now when she was undoubtedly hundreds of miles away Twilight Sparkle was still thwarting her, keeping her from what she wanted most.

“Do you remember a time before what happened to you,” Bunsen Burner’s voice pierced through her inner tumult.

“Of course I do,” she snapped, “I lived two decades before it.”

“You didn’t have any trouble casting then I expect,” his voice continued as her consciousness tumbled through her past, “What brought you inspiration? What brought you peace?”

Her thoughts then began to slow, and her memories pooled before her, in each one there was one constant figure. She watched her every performance, every grandiose gesture. She watched her stumble as she took her first bow, and she helped her up when she scuffed herself during her fall. She read to her the exploits of Hoofdini, and his amazing tricks.

“Even after she passed away, you found a peace. Ms. Sparkle is not the personification of tragedy; that’s simply what you’ve associated with her.”

She took a breath and objectively looked back on that day using the mindset she had been taught for self-defense. Why had she failed? She had claimed to have fought off an Ursa Major: a large boast, one which offered great risk when trying to seem credible, especially later when those idiot colts brought an Ursa Minor to town. She had lost her cool to hecklers: she’d had them in the past, so she should have been able to deal with them properly. Her wagon and supplies were destroyed in the beast’s rampage later that night: if she had never claimed to be able to deal with it the circumstances would not have taken place. The Ursa Minor was returned to its den, at the expense of her career, her public image, and her wagon. Twilight Sparkle saved the day, and she was an outcast, but-

Her analysis faltered.

But-

Frustration was overwhelming her, denial numbed her to what she needed to know, what embarrassment was trying to keep from her.

None of those things she lost would have been that way had she acted beyond her immediate best interests.

Twilight was not the root cause of her problems.

She had caused her own suffering.

She pulled back once again to the waking world, seeing her teacher waiting expectantly for her to say something. She shook her head, and trotted out of the room with a shaky announcement of “I need air.”

She half ran back to her room and slammed the door behind her. Her thoughts were cluttered. Her feelings were eating her up from the inside as she couldn’t decide how she felt. Was this revelation of hers actually correct? It couldn’t be. She didn’t want it to be. To think that she had wasted months, almost a year of her life, on account of her own mistakes made her feel destitute. She could never get those days back.

She stumbled over to the mirror, and for a moment was shocked to see the pony inside: a mare with a frumpy, unkempt mane, with puffy eyes and a faded blue coat. She was so shocked that she slowly reached up to the mare, before turning that hoof back towards her own face, and saw the reflection follow her actions.

This was who she was. She had allowed herself to become this.

She quickly turned away and tossed herself onto her bed. She buried herself deep beneath the covers, trying to find some sense of warmth, safety, and security in them. She was looking for stability, anything that would make it seem like everything was going to be alright. Her whole world felt like it was beginning to crumble, and that this was the last stroke. Everything was crashing down around her now.

She shunned the light of the sun, and threw her top comforter over her head. She began to cry all over again, and this time she didn’t have something to fight, somepony easy to blame. She felt all alone, and she didn’t know what to do.

Bunsen Burner listened silently to her weeping outside her door.

“Be strong, Ms. Lulamoon,” he murmured, he wasn’t sure to who, “You can make it through this. Be strong…Trixie.”

When she opened her eyes Trixie found herself still within the comfortable nest of her sheets. She was able to eventually disentangle herself from them, and she found that during her time in her impromptu exhaustion nap she had managed to unmake the bed completely; its comforter tossed to the floor, and the sheets ripped from under the bed. Moonlight now seeped into her room, its cool colored illumination helping to calm her. She figured it was perhaps ten in the evening.

She felt different, somehow a bit lighter than she had when she entered the room. She once again approached her mirror, almost dreading what sort of mare she would find within its reflection. The moonlight wasn’t close enough to the mirror to let her see her face; all she could see were the outlines of her features, while the rest was murky, undecided. She lit her horn. She was still the same mare; same mane, coat, and eyes. Yet, this time there was something more. Her eyes were clear, her irises a striking violet very similar to a summer’s dusk.

She looked up at her mane. She needed to groom herself. At first she stopped since she knew there was no brush nearby. Then she knew what she had to do. Her insecurity that she wouldn’t be able to do it was squashed by her new thoughts: she could do it, and she would.

Her horn’s light blurred a little, and a blob slowly took shape from the ether. A handle and frame formed, and then small bristles with teardrop-like nubs appeared on the end. Trixie joyfully gazed up at her newly created construct. Its glow. Its shape.

“It’s absolutely perfect,” she whispered as her eyes became misty.

She then slowly put it to her mane and meticulously began to draw it through her strands. This simple act, one taught to her many years ago by her mother, now had a greater sense of significance. She felt like she had rediscovered magic all over again, like this was her first time ever doing it. She felt like she was going to cry all over again too, but this time the tears of happiness she felt stayed inside. They flowed down into her heart and opened something that had been closed up for a long time. After a while she was done, and the hairbrush vanished. Under her light magenta hue she looked at herself once again. She looked like her normal self, and she felt even better than normal.

Look at you, my beautiful little filly, she felt she heard her mother’s voice in her mind say, You’re ready. Now go out there tonight and knock’um dead!

She smiled to herself, and whispered to the night air, “I will, mom. I love you.”

Trixie opened her door with determination, and was about to stride out into the hallway when she noticed a tray at her hooves. Perplexed, she looked down and saw that upon it sat a plate with a daisy and lettuce sandwich, garnished with parsley. She realized that Bunsen must have left this for her in her sleep, and the gesture touched her greatly. She galloped off down the hallway, not sparing the food another glance: she had a show to perform, and she had to find her audience! She had a feeling that she might find him in his study, though the possibility of her teacher being asleep crossed her mind, which made her think further that she had no idea where his room was at all in this mansion. She searched the arena hall, the kitchens, the basement, but he was nowhere to be found. The only other room she knew of that he might be in was the study. She had to show him how she had changed, and what she could do.

Galloping down the hallway, almost out of breath, she didn’t even bother to knock on the door, but instead swung it open without warning. In the study she found Bunsen Burner at his desk. He had once again been reviewing magical scholastics, his face stuck in a scowl as he browsed the words of the thick books: when she entered however his attention snapped upward, and after he had overcome his initial surprise the lines across his face softened.

“There’s something I need to show you,” she said breathlessly. She could tell that he was about to protest, but she stopped him by blurting out, “No! Please, just trust me. I can do this.”

The old earth pony was going to argue the point, but he observed that there was something altogether different about the mare. Her mood was a complete 180 degrees from what it had previously been, and there was an energetic twinkle in her eye.

He leaned back in his chair, put his hooves together, and then tapped them to his mouth, “Alright. Show me.”

The showmare was so excited that she didn’t bother to center her stance, didn’t bother trying anything she attempted to help herself out less than forty-eight hours ago; she just lit her horn, and fired away. Her firework slowly rose, and with a magenta flash popped above her. The spinning firecracker whirled in place, its pace steady, its illumination normal.

Bunsen looked up in astonishment, and adjusted his glasses delicately with his right hoof. Constant radial movement, intensity was above average but good, and it was spinning as smooth as a record. He glanced down at her. She was smiling ecstatically, and her body language showed her glee. There was no strain on her musculature, no subdermal stress or stress of any kind at all.

Trixie stuck her tongue out, and as an added flourish crystalline butterflies appeared out of the fragments of the firecracker as it disintegrated. As the lightshow faded, Bunsen couldn’t help but look at her in dumbfounded shock. How was this possible, to recover this quickly? Perhaps she was even stronger than he had thought!

Trixie trotted around the desk, and without his expecting it at all she put her hooves around him and hugged him firmly.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and he felt wetness creep down her face and onto his neck as she held him tighter, “Thank you so much!”

All the old stallion could do was accept the embrace, and rigidly put his hooves around her, patting his right hoof on her back softly. He wasn’t sure how this had come to pass, but she had succeeded, and he caught himself doing something he hadn’t done in a very long time: smiling.

Chapter 11

Trixie walked down the hallway to the arena hall, a smile on her face. Today was the day; the one winter’s day that all ponies across Equestria cherished above any other. “Hearth’s Warming Eve,” she announced aloud to herself, and her smile grew all the wider. Even though the coming months would be dreary and wet with thick snow and blinding blizzards, this was the day that the nation’s foundation was celebrated, and though Trixie didn’t have anything in the way of material gifts that she could share with the likes of Bunsen Burner, she was certain she could perform a winter themed light show like he had never seen, now that her knowledge of magic was greater than ever. As she approached the end of the hallway she saw through the window that large, fluffy snowflakes were gliding through the air, pressing against the glass panes, and falling to the ground. The local weather team had obviously done their best to make the climate picture perfect for today; they clearly deserved their day off!

Trixie turned into the hall’s doorway and exclaimed loudly, “Happy Hearth’s Warming-“ When she saw that nopony else was in the hall, her greeting trailed off with a deflated, “Eve.” The curtains were left drawn from yesterday, letting in the white light reflecting off the fresh snow pack. The showmare scanned the room, looking for anything just as equally unusual as the absence of her instructor. When her eyes fell on the mantelpiece she found her answer: devoid of any festive tinsel, the only things there were the usual two large wax candles, the gaslight, and a folded letter. She quickly trotted over, bringing the letter closer to her as she did with a small pocket of her magic. She flipped the bi-folded letter open, and saw beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was written in the old stallion’s precise block letter writing.

“Have gone to visit with family. Will be back in a few hours,” she murmured to herself.

Trixie frowned as she thought about the message. This mansion was Bunsen Burner’s ancestral home: he told her that direct bloodline and even cousins had lived here in the past. It was possible that he was visiting some form of distant relation she reasoned, but her first guess was that it his estranged wife, Lily Cloverhoof. She involuntarily leaned her head back and silently let out a long, "Ooooooh."

“It would be hard to explain to your ex-wife the mare more than half your age living in your house wouldn’t it,” she said as she put the letter back down.

It then dawned upon Trixie that she had never actually seen a photograph of Lily before. Bunsen had certainly described her basic details, but a picture is worth a thousand words, she reasoned. Having given herself a task, she set out to the place she was certain to find the object she desired; Bunsen’s study. As she idly walked up to the door she reached out with her telekinesis to the handle. She was surprised to find there was resistance to her movement: he’d actually locked the door. Even three weeks ago this would have been the end of her quest, but now things were a little different.

“A locked door,” she dramatically asked to a nonexistent audience, then she scoffed, “As if such a feeble obstacle could stopped the Gr-r-reat and Powerful Tr-r-rixie!”

She reared onto her back legs, waved her forehooves slowly, and lit her horn up. Probing the mechanisms of the lock with a thin field of magic, she slid each of the driver pins into its opened position, tugged on the handle once more, and gently shoved it open. The showmare could practically hear the ominous gong that should have followed such a feat, and she brought her right forehoof up to shield her face in a mysterious fashion. She chuckled to herself a little, and then entered into the office space.

The curtains were left open in this room; the books, chair, and country map were all still in their normal places. As she sauntered around the room she noticed a picture frame lying face down on the desk. Perplexed, she drew closer, certain that she had never seen this particular photograph before. She brought it closer, turning it over as she did.

Within the frame were five ponies. Bunsen Burner was recognizable, though he had a much longer, browner mane. The mare next to him was obviously Lily: crème coat, auburn mane, water can pouring down next to a flower Cutie Mark. She was a bit rounder than she was expecting, but she knew that happened to ponies as they got older. The powder blue unicorn with a window pane like Cutie Mark with arrangements of patterned triangles and circles was Punnett Square, and the mare next to him was obviously his wife Bolera. Between the two of them was a small filly. Her coat was pink, the wings at her side were as well, apart from the tips of her feathers which were tinged purple. From the looks of it the poor child was barely able to stand, and as Trixie looked further she realized that the way Punnett and Bolera had their legs placed made it seem like they knew the child could collapse any moment, and were gently bracing her by her sides. In spite of the filly’s obvious stress, she wore a sterling smile across her face, and her eyes danced with joy. In the background Trixie now saw that the five of them were standing on one of Canterlot’s famed skydocks, and from the look of the medium sized airship in the background the photo was taken just before departure. In the bottom right corner she saw a brief description, this time in more flowing, elaborate script ‘To the East! -978’.

Of all things she expected to be perplexed by in this picture, Trixie was most surprised by the filly. Her coat color, the eyes, and especially the tips of her wings! They were all alarmingly similar to…

Then Trixie remembered. It had been buried for so many weeks under other pressing things, like her training and shift in emotional state, but one factoid came back to her in an instant. “No,” she quietly murmured to herself in surprise and disbelief. She then whirled around to look through the windows of the study. As she looked out in bewilderment to the town below she noticed once again something out of place. Leading off into the east, towards the northern end of town, were a set of hoofprints, made especially evident by the wetness of the snow packed beneath them. They originated from the house. Undoubtedly they were the old stallion’s! The direction they seemed to be leading though was beyond the outskirts of town. Then she noticed something else: the snowfall had picked up. With the weather team off for the day nature was being allowed to take its course, which meant that the mountain was already in the act of brewing up a snowstorm that nopony should be out in.

Initially she paused, thinking that perhaps he would be alright on his own. He knew the area better than her, and he had decided to go out into the snow all the same. Even so, her curiosity got the best of her, and she had to admit she wanted to be certain he was alright for herself. Placing the picture frame exactly as she had found it, she galloped out of the room, closing the door behind her. As she approached the front of the mansion, she stopped by one of the less frequented rooms, where she grabbed a white dust shroud. She hesitated for a moment as she thought about what she meant to do with the fabric, but then she unconsciously exuded a smile. With a flash of her magenta light the shroud gently sheared and contorted, cross stitching itself together around her. When her horn’s light faded she stood in a white replica of her old stage cape and hat which she hoped would help shield her from the snow and wind somewhat. Delaying no further, she ran to the front door, swung it wide open and stepped through, disappearing into the white.

YOL 978

“Eventually, the mare’s many deeds reached the ears of the Prince, and he sought an audience with her. When they met, they fell in love, as if at first sight. In due time the two were married, and the Princess was able to do even more compassionate acts than before. The two became beacons for others to follow, and they, as well as the world, lived happily ever after.”

Little Cadence nuzzled further under her sheets as gently as she could, “That was a good story, Daddy.”

Punnett smiled warmly at his daughter as he scooted closer to her from the foot of her bed, “It was, wasn’t it?”

“What does it mean though? Mommy says every story has a meaning.”

Punnett waved his hoof gently at her and smiled even deeper, “That’s because Mommy’s a very smart mare, and she studies stories all the time!” The unicorn repositioned himself as he thought about what he wanted to say first, allowing his mouth to unintentionally fall open a bit as he thought, “I think what the story is trying to say is that when a pony is able to help others, their actions and character will make them look good to others. Eventually they will be noticed by somepony, and perhaps it will help them to be able to help even more ponies than before.”

“So helping others helps them help me help even more ponies,” she exclaimed, struggling a little to speak the jumble of words out loud.

“You got it, sweetie,” he replied before grinning and nodding, “That’s a lot of helping, isn’t it?”

Cadence laughed a little, “A big helping of helping!”

“Right,” Punnett half laughed half exclaimed. He then gently kissed her on the forehead, before hugging her, being gentle about how much pressure he used.

“Love you, Daddy,” she said cheerfully.

“As do I, Mi Amore,” he replied softly, and then let her lie back.

“Hey Daddy?”

“Hm? What is it?”

“Someday I want to be a Princess,” she declared firmly, “So I can help other ponies like the mare in the story did!”

Punnett got up from her bed and began to walk towards her door, “Well, we’ve already got Princess Celestia, and you are already helping light up Mommy and Daddy’s lives’ every day! If she needs a break, though, I’m sure she’d be happy to let somepony with a good heart like yours help out.”

They softly exchanged good nights, and then he closed the door to her room. He paused there for a moment before letting out a small sigh. As he slowly walked further down the hallway, Punnett Square seemed to shrink. After walking a mere ten feet he looked as if he had aged twenty years. He made his way to the dining room, where Bolera was waiting, as was Bunsen Burner.

“Did everything go alright?” his wife asked, her concern bringing out her Mustangian accent more than usual.

“You’re grooming our daughter well,” Punnett said with a sigh and a small smile as he sat down at the table, “Pretty soon we’ll have to offer a 3,000 word literary analysis with each bedtime story!”

“Did you make certain to give her her painkillers and other-“

He nodded, “Yes dear; she’s been properly medicated for the night. I know I don’t do this as often as you, but I can measure out pills well enough to manage.”

Satisfied with his answers she slowly nodded before she let her head sit on top of her folded hooves on the table, “Bene.”

Punnett nodded and scooted closer to her, placing his right forehoof around her. He then looked at Bunsen Burner, who was intently studying a portfolio his friend had put together for him. It was full of data on blood samples, bonemarrow, white blood cell count, prognoses, and treatments, all of which had failed: two long years of trial and failure.

“Well, what do you think,” the unicorn quietly asked.

Bunsen sighed, “You know I’m no physician. Are you sure there’s nothing left that can be tried from modern medicine?”

Punnett nodded, “Every doctor we’ve gone to has offered one crackpot idea after another. First it was vitamins and sunlight, then it was bloodletting. When the last one suggested arsenic I realized that they knew as little as we did, and were just tossing ideas out like darts, hoping one would stick. If they don’t have the means of beating this malignancy, Cadence’s only hope lies with magic.”

Bunsen looked back down at the data in front of him. Two years of medicinal and magical research had already been expended to try and study this disease, this ‘leukemia’, and nothing promising had come from that either; there just weren’t enough ponies with the disease so that it could be studied.

Bolera had quietly fallen asleep in Punnett Square’s hooves, while he waited expectantly for a response from his friend.

The earth pony quietly laid the portfolio down. He took his glasses off and laid them aside, rubbing his face with his hooves anxiously. Bringing his hooves down to rest on the table, he looked to his best friend, “Punnett, I know that magic is an incredible force: we both know that. You’ve been looking at this for years, and you’ve found nothing! What can we do? There is nothing in Equestria that can help Cadence.”

Punnett nodded slowly, and hugged Bolera a little tighter, causing her to murmur in her sleep, and her wings to twitch. “You’re right,” he replied softly, “There’s nothing in Equestria that can help her…but there might be something in other lands.”

Bunsen’s gazed had drifted away until he heard this. He slowly looked back to his friend, “What?”

“Magic isn’t just a unicorn’s right by birth; other species can do it in their own way too! In the East, there are legends of Zebharan shamans who can do magic through the earth itself, and talk to spirits. There are stories of their kind healing miraculously, and even coming back from the dead!”

Bunsen Burner sighed to himself: never in documented history had there been a magical resurrection, but then he corrected himself: never in Equestrian history. “How long?”

Punnett gazed at him intently, waiting for him to clarify himself.

“How long do you think we will be gone?”

“Six months,” he declared, “but I’ll take as long as I need to find a cure. I can’t ask any more than that of you, not with your foal on the way.”

Bunsen nodded softly, before slowly letting out a breath through his nose. “I’ll need some time to discuss this with Lily,” he finally declared before he stood from his chair. “I’ll let you know as soon as I am able.”

“Of course,” Punnett said as he gently removed his forelegs from around his wife and stood up, “Just please let me know soon. I have passage on an airship bought and ready to leave in a fortnight. Let me know by the end of the week?”

“I will,” the earth pony placed his left hoof on the unicorn’s shoulder, “You’ve always been the best friend I could ask for. Now I’ll do everything I can to pay that back to you.”

The morning sun gleamed off the lake below as the five ponies made their way up to their designated skydock. Cadence’s eyes were wide in amazement as she looked down at the valley below Canterlot. Its verdant beauty was unmatched.

“It’s so beautiful,” she said breathlessly as she looked down through the railing securing the stairs.

“It really is a magnificent sight,” Bolera agreed with a smile, “Perhaps one day when you are strong you can see it from the clouds, not from here on the ground.”

As they approached the dock, Lily leaned toward Bunsen, “Write to me as much as you can. Remember to make time to be back here for me: I’ll be due in December.”

Bunsen smiled warmly to her and nuzzled her gently, “I could never forget, dear. I will be back for the both of you.”

“Be sure to be a good girl while I’m away,” Punnett declared as he looked to his daughter, “I know it shouldn’t be too hard for you.”

As they approached the airship’s docking ramp, the captain of the ship, a deep brown colored pegasus with a small pipe approached to greet them with his gravelly voice, “Mr. Square, Mr. Burner, we are ready to receive you, and we should be able to leave within fifteen minutes time. Is there anything you might need in the meantime?”

“Yes,” Lily exclaimed as she unhooked a small camera and flash from her back, “Captain Rainbuster? Is there any chance you could take a photograph for us? While they’re gone we’d like something to remember our husbands by.”

Bolera chimed in as well, “Yes, if you please?”

The Captain tipped his hat, and took the device from the earth pony mare, “It would be my pleasure, Mrs. Burner.”

After they had gotten into their positions and offered their best smiles, the camera flashed. When they had made their final goodbyes, the two stallions followed the Captain up the ramp.

“Be well, Mio Marito,” Bolera called out.

“Goodbye, Daddy,” Cadence yelled from atop her mother’s back, and then coughed a little afterwards as she attempted to catch her breath.

“Have a good voyage,” Lily finished, “and come back safely!”

The two stallions waved as they continued up the ramp. A few minutes afterward the engines onboard the airship came to life, and propelled the craft slowly forward, away from the dock and from Canterlot.

Their voyage took them at first to the southwest, where they made a stop at the great Minotaur city of Labyrinth. After stocking up on supplies and fuel, they flew up the coastline. Once they found the safest jumping off point, Captain Rainbuster turned his compass East, and took the lot of his crew and passengers into the Furia Ocean. This particular ocean is near impassable, regardless of season, because of the many treacherous and deadly storms that pervade its waters. The only way to pass through is by following the Marianan Melody, a song created by the last sea pony Queen to protect travelers above her realm from the storms. By following its song the airship made it safely into Zebharan country, where the sands are fine and red, and the sun beams down with angry rays.

The largest settlement of Zebharans was in the mountains to the far East of where Bunsen and Punnett exited the Furia. Finally, after a month’s journey across lands and seas unknown to them, they arrived in the small city of Qua-Ach-A. It took them a few days to find anypony in the community who knew the ancient shamanic practices Punnett sought, but they eventually did.

The two stallions stepped indoors, out of the blazing sun’s reach. They were escorted into a small hut made of thatched reeds by two servants to the mystic. The zebras drew a line in the sand with a long wooden rod they each carried with them, before they gestured for the outsiders to sit. Silently Bunsen and Punnett took their places, setting their haunches on the ground behind their lines. The two servants then walked to a separate section of the hut to retrieve their mistress. Tribal masks and other mysterious ornamentation surrounded them, as well as clay and glass jars. Whatever were their contents was only the shaman’s right to know.

The two zebra servants returned to their presence, carrying between them a stretcher made from hoofwoven fabric and reeds; on it lay the Shaman of the Zebhara. It was charitable to describe her as old, more accurate to outright call her ancient. Her mane was pure white, held back in a tight bun. Her joints seemed almost ready to pop through her skin; what little muscle she had left was wire-thin and stringy. Surrounding her was a cloak made of deep blue fabric, to shield her from stray sand and to warm her tired, cold body. Once she was set down before the two travelers, her deep brown eyes scanned over them, aware but dull, as if she were in some sort of trance.

Finally she spoke in a wheeze, “Strange foreigners from lands far away, how is it I may help you today?”

Punnett adjusted his posture and his wide brimmed hat slightly before speaking, “Great Shaman, we have come seeking your healing knowledge. My daughter is dying; a disease is eating her bones from the inside. My country’s science has failed her.” He paused, and his head sunk a little lower, “My magic has failed her. I’ve heard the stories of your ancestors’ amazing power. Is there anything that can be done?”

“Hmmmm,” the Shaman stroked her chin as she thought, “Daughter’s plight on your mind does gnaw, but from neither the earth nor djinn can power I draw.”

“What does that mean,” Punnett asked, “What are djinn?”

“Patience, traveler,” the Shaman feebly brought a hoof up, “Let your worry unwind, and I will see about enlightening your mind.”

She gestured to one of her servants, who brought a small jar close, pouring its contents at her hooves. Something like green sand poured down, and when she blew into it, a green cloud appeared above them, its substances creating images for them to see, but more lifelike than any painting or photograph either of the stallions had witnessed. Something like energy swam around a replica zebra, but it seemed to have a mind all its own.

“Creatures made of fireless smoke did my foremothers and fathers invoke,” the Shaman croaked, “Beings lighter than air and just as thin, these represent nature, they are the djinn.”

“So these beings are spirits of some kind,” Bunsen asked as he stared up at the moving pictures above them, watching as the ball of wisps and energy circled the zebra.

“No, not ghosts,” she corrected, “Beings of only energy, bodies do they now scorn. Through them shamans gained harmony, and so our magic was born.”

The conjured zebra image changed: now it stood atop a pole, balancing perfectly on one hoof, while djinn circled around it in a gentle oscillating pattern of up and down. Up and down.

“They taught us much, even how to conquer death: by harmonizing with them, and joining breath.”

The djinn slowly drew closer, until they circled the zebra’s head. Then it opened its mouth, and the djinn were swallowed down its throat. Twin points of light now represented the zebra’s eyes.

“That past, though, is long behind,” the Shaman declared, and the scene changed once more. Djinn were now chasing zebras across the air, striking out at them with streams of fire, bolts of lightning, and cutting hail, “The reason for their displeasure: to this we are blind.” The enchantment ended, and the dust scattered into the wind outside the hut.

Bunsen looked to his friend, whose head hung even lower than before. “Is there nothing that can be done,” he asked, “My friend’s daughter’s life is at stake! Is there some way we could placate these djinn?”

“To cross a djinn’s path is done at great cost,” the Shaman declared, “but I did not say all hope was lost.” Both the stallion’s ears perked up at this, and they listened attentively. “In Saddle Arabia, in the lands to the West, I think you might find the answer best. When I was a little filly I journeyed there, and within that country’s royal court you’ll find a mare.”

“Who, which mare,” Punnett asked eagerly, desperately.

“She is like you; one with a horn, her coat amber and mane like fire. I am one hundred twenty-two, and she has not yet expired.” The Shaman chuckled, “I am old bones and bag: though she is older, I am the hag!”

Punnett looked to Bunsen, and the earth pony nodded. Punnett and Bunsen excused themselves with a thank you and courtesies, and as they left the old Zebra mare’s hut Bunsen was struck by something. “What? What’s wrong,” Punnett asked as he saw the new look in his friend’s eyes. “The mare she described, I think I know of her,” Bunsen said as he sprung to action, and they both galloped towards the airship as he explained, “She’s Saddle Arabia’s Grand Magus, or their equivalent at least: the Archsorceress of Baghdad.”

“It’s true, I am older than I look,” the Archsorceress declared as the three of them walked along a plastered hallway, illuminated by the sun outside through small openings near the ceiling and decorated with floral patterns, “but I am not nearly as old as this desert witch might believe me to be. My family has served the Sultan’s for well over three hundred years, and we have had many act as magical council to them. I have been told though that my resemblance to my great-grandmother is uncanny.”

Once again Punnett Square’s hope almost faltered, but he pressed on, “The Shaman also mentioned something about the djinn.”

“Ah yes, the djinn,” she said with a deprecating laugh as she drew a strand of stubborn grey and red hair out of the way of her cyan eyes, her exquisite robe of orange and plum colors billowing behind her, “I was wondering when they would come up. Whatever they may have told you; whether they grant wishes, or are the remnants of the Upright Ones, it’s all a lie. While they may have had something to do with Zebharan magic in the past, they are the East’s present menace. The great city of Baghdad is under constant threat from their chaos, and it has fallen to me to study how to capture them and lock them away forever.” She then looked at Bunsen and then Punnett with curiosity, “I’m surprised that you’ve come this far and searched so desperately, considering that the greatest healer in the world is within your borders.”

Both of the stallions look at her in bewilderment.

“Come again,” Bunsen asked, before Punnett quickly followed up with, “What do you mean?”

“Your Princess of course,” the Archsorceress said matter-of-factly, before she registered the greater confusion she seemed to be sowing, “Didn’t you know? We’ve heard of the great deeds she performed in the past both recent and long ago.”

Bunsen was especially perplexed, and blurted out, “What deeds? I studied under her, and I don’t remember her talking about any healings.”

The Archsorceress now looked at him in surprise, and the three of them stopped walking altogether, “You are one of the Children of the Sun? How could she not tell you of her healing of the Griffonian Knight, Sir Gawain, the founder of the southernmost states of the Griffon Confederacy?”

She paused to turn and look Punnett Square straight in the eye, “She changed the world by healing just one being.”

“That story is just a fable,” Bunsen replied, “One of the five used to establish the allegory of the Elements of Harmony: Generosity, Kindness, Honesty, Loyalty, and Laughter.”

Punnett looked at him in disbelief, “After the things you’ve seen, you still think that there’s nothing to Equestria’s legends?”

“I didn’t say it was all a lie,” Bunsen fired back, “I just don’t know if it’s all true.”

“Well I can’t afford your skepticism,” the unicorn stallion replied as he angrily ran off down the causeway back to the airship, “I have to believe. I have to save my daughter!”

“Punnett, wait,” Bunsen called out as he galloped after him, leaving the Archsorceress by herself.

Despite what others may have expected had they seen the turn of events, she was not offended or unnerved by her abandonment, but very pleased. Continuing down to the end of the causeway, she walked to a oval shaped balcony, which had an expansive view of the desert to the West. She watched as the Equestrian airship departed, and a sinister smile was on her face. As the late afternoon turned into sunset, shimmering across the sands below, the Archsorceress thought to herself, Now there’s another student of yours that will see you for who you are Celestia. May he crown your head with sorrow and anguish for what you’ve become over these long, long centuries, and let this act as my first step in the vengeance I will lay on you.

Chapter 12

The afternoon was overcast as the airship charted its final stretch of the journey back to Canterlot. By the time they would arrive at dock it would be nightfall. In preparation for the departure of the waning light one of the ship’s crew was lighting the onboard lanterns one by one. Bunsen and Pundett were near the bow on the starboard side, gazing out towards the northwest and the rolling green hills below. Tonight would mark approximately ten weeks since their journey had begun, and though they were happy that their adventure was already finished they were anxious to be home, and the both of them for many reasons. Of course they wished to see their mares both big and small; there was no doubt of that. They were, however, most especially eager to see their monarch. Time and time again they had each gone over what the Archsorceress had said in their own private thoughts, but it was on this night that thought spilled into words.

“Could it really be true,” Punnett asked, almost to the thin air surrounding the both of them, “Could it really be that the Princess has held my daughter’s cure all along?”

Bunsen continued to stare into the horizon, his forelegs fidgeting as they rested on the ship’s wooden rail. “I don’t know,” he replied at long last.

“She never gave any indication that her healing powers were real?”

“I never saw her sick or injured if that’s what you mean,” he declared softly, “but I just thought that was because she lived a healthy life; a cautious one.”

There was silence between the stallions for a good span. The clouds slowly drifted by below them, puffy and purest white. A struggle raged inside Bunsen, and his doubt came to life as a gnashing creature, gnawing at the back of his mind and the center of his heart, working its way out of his mouth. Finally he caved, and as he did he turned away from the rail with a push and a grunt. “Why would she keep this from the world,” he blurted, and then he turned back to his friend, “Why would she keep this from me? Did she not trust me? This ability could have saved so many lost cases that science or our magic didn’t know how to cure.”

“If anypony could have been close enough to guessing the mind of the Princess I would have thought it’d have been you,” Punnett said wistfully, “She’s had this for as long as she’s been alive; she must have a reason to keep this a secret, letting it pass into myth.”

“She’d better have a good one,” Bunsen replied with a very obvious sense of betrayal icing up his voice, “The first lesson she taught me was that those who have much have much to share, to give back to others, whether it’s one being or an entire kingdom. To have a power like this and keep it locked away?” He stopped as if he meant to say more, perhaps something harsh, but he stopped himself and stamped his right hoof to the deck. “I don’t know what to think,” he exclaimed hoarsely.

There was a pause before Punnett also spoke, “I don’t know either. All I can hope for is that she will take pity on Cadence.” He put his hoof to his chest unconsciously, and his eyes fell a little, “She has a good heart; I have to believe. For my daughter’s sake I must believe she can be healed.”

There wasn’t much said between the two after that, but the airship continued on into the growing twilight, and silence followed after them.

It was around half past ten when they arrived at the sky dock, and the ramp was put down to allow them to disembark. They wasted no time: gathering their bags they rushed as quickly as they could to the nearest entrance into Canterlot Castle. As they galloped toward the south facing door the Royal Guard became alert to their presence, calling out to the earth pony as he came closer, “Bunsen Burner! It’s a pleasure to see you m’lord! Was your trip to the East successful?”

“I need immediate audience with the Princess,” he declared breathlessly as he stopped before them, Punnett not far behind.

The senior guard nodded and gestured to his junior, “Witherwings, escort them to her Majesty’s chambers.”

“Right away, sir!” the enthusiastic youth replied as he opened the door for the two stallions.

It wasn’t long after that that the three arrived at the Princess’ quarters. Punnett couldn’t help but look up at the large wooden doors carved in the shape of a sun in awe. It wasn’t common at all that a civilian could see something like this. There was a spark in Bunsen’s eyes as they approached, and a frown was on his face to accompany it.

Witherwings saluted the two guards at their post outside the private chambers, “Prince Bunsen Burner requests her Majesty’s presence with all due haste.”

The senior guard gave a slight bow before he spoke, “I’m sorry m’lord, but I must inform you that the Princess is away on a diplomatic mission.”

“Where to,” he asked without pause.

“The Griffon Confederacy. There appears to have been a major breakthrough in peace talks between the North and South. The Princess has been recognized and approved as a neutral arbitrator, and is overseeing a deal that could unite all the Griffon states as one nation at last! I’m very sorry, sir, but she left about a fortnight ago. She’s in their old capitol by now.”

Punnett visibly deflated, and he looked to Bunsen, “What can we do?”

Bunsen looked back at him, and a small smirk came to him, along with an inaudible scoff, “Something I haven’t done in a long time. Guard, may I step inside? I have a message I wish to write.”

“Of course m’lord,” he replied, and he opened the large door with a grunt, “Would you like a fire prepared for the both of you?”

“No, just a big enough light to write by; I’ll also need your fastest courier. Have them here as soon as you can.”

“At once,” he replied, and he stepped in with them to prepare a scroll and quill for them, while Witherwings flew off to fetch the courier they needed. A candle was lit, an ink well was found, and everything was made ready.

“I’d like your help writing this, if you’re up for it,” Bunsen declared as he put the quill into the well, then dabbed it against the side to rid it of excess ink, “Perhaps with the both of us we can be more persuasive.”

Punnett eyes went wide, but then a smile crept onto his face, “It would be an absolute privilege.”

Bunsen smiled back softly, and then put his ink to parchment, writing that oh so familiar greeting: Dear Princess Celestia…

It was some days later that this very important letter made it into the recipient’s hooves. The lone pegasus delivering it spied the town where the political summit was taking place, and knew that her journey was over. Griffonstone, seat to a once unified Griffon kingdom, was now a broken pedestal, only of note among its populace at large for nostalgic reasons. This shared spirit was what helped the Northern and Southern States cement it as neutral ground. The town’s meeting hall served as the seat of diplomacy, while each representative’s bed was no more than a cot made in cordoned off corners of the medium sized hut. For a meeting of griffon affairs things were going relatively peacefully, the Princess mused as she settled into her humble straw bed: she could keep count of the number of obscenities said that day, and things had almost devolved into a fight only once. This was the most civilized she had seen the ambassadors of each side in any given decade she could think of! There might yet be a chance for unification at last, she thought to herself.

The letter was then delivered to her, and recognizing the Seal of Urgency adorning it she opened it hastily. At first she had a warm smile as she recognized her most recently graduated student’s writing, but it quickly changed to a blank expression as she continued reading.

I write to you this late night at the urging of my conscience and for the plight of a friend. It is best perhaps if he were to explain his own case first.

The style of writing beneath it was most definitely unfamiliar to her, and because of the unusual but dire tone she continued on.

Your Majesty,

My name is Punnett Square. I’m a researcher like Bunsen in the Royal Science Division. Though we’ve never met in person, I trust Bunsen’s account of your character, as well as my own observations, and I know you to be mare with a compassionate heart. I’d ask that you’d take pity, not for myself, but for my daughter. My one and only daughter, Cadence, is dying, a result of a cancer in her bones. Her time grows shorter every day. I’ve searched the known world for any conceivable cure, with the patience and strength of your student and my greatest friend, and our quest has brought us back to you. We’ve heard that you have a miraculous power, to heal those you touch. I realize you must have your reasons for keeping this a secret, but by my own bold nature and my desperation I implore you: please help my daughter. Save her. Please.

–Punnett Square

The writing once again returned to Bunsen’s as the letter finished.

You taught me that those who have much have much to give, Princess. Cadence has never had a chance to live a normal life; has never known a normal filly’s life. I don’t know if the stories we’ve heard are true, but I know you. If this is within your power you would not let an injustice of nature like this stand. Prove the character we know you have.

We urgently await your reply. B.B.

The Princess set the letter down, her face still blank, but even she could not hide the surprise or conflict behind her eyes. How could they have found out? It was hundreds of years since she had-

Her thoughts stopped in their tracks. She recited the reasons she had never continued to practice that power over and over in her mind, but each time her own mental voice responded, It was easy enough to heal a knight, a killer all those centuries ago. A child’s life is at stake. Is she not more deserving than even Gawain had been?

Then she thought about where she was lying down, and the consequences that had brought her there. She called for a roll of parchment and ink. She tried to put the quill to paper immediately, but she found it wavering in her field of golden magic. Taking a shuddering breath, then a second, she steeled her nerves, and wrote her reply.

“My most loyal student,” Bunsen read aloud to Punnett, “I must first clarify one important fact: I can’t imagine from whom or where you heard it, but it is true: I do have the power to heal.”

The both of them looked up at each other in wonder. Punnett haggardly exhaled, and a grin began to spread across his face. Bunsen looked back to the letter and continued to read in a rush, “I discovered this power during a period long ago, when I helped to bring a Griffon knight, Sir Gawain, back from the brink. He, with the help of his armies, drove off Ailsa VI’s Old Blood supporters from pillaging Cloudsdale. It was only after many years that I discovered the true consequences of this gift.”

Punnett’s face began to creep back to a neutral expression as Bunsen read on, “I sit in what amounts to a thatched barn as I write this to you, spending my day moderating two politicians as their speech ranges from honeyed words to death threats, and I realized that this is in part my own making. In my younger years I spent less time thinking out my actions than I do now and I fear that in pursuit of an immediate good I’ve brought about a long term evil. Though I had the best of intentions for my ponies when I healed one being, I changed the world irrevocably by doing so, enabling a whole race of beings into the pursuit of conflict, hatred, and death.”

The study the two sat in Punnett’s home rang with a silence like none either stallion had ever felt. Bunsen continued reading, almost regretting that he had to do so, “In my later years I also came to realize another potential malicious outcome from my attempts at benevolence: If there always was a solution at hoof for every illness, every outbreak and contagion, what reason would there be to seek another form of cure? Such an investment of time would be foolish, and I would cripple the very art of medicine by my secret being made known. Even if I could spend my life, however long that remains to me, as a cure for other’s ailments, and I left the country’s leadership to other’s shoulders, I am not all present. No matter how much I may want to I cannot save everypony, and I don’t believe it is my right to determine who should live and who should die. I can search for the best physicians in the world for you, Punnett Square, and I will put them towards the service of saving your daughter. As for my personal intervention, my answer, with my most solemn regrets, is no.

Princess Celestia, Guardian of all Equinity, Ruler of Equestria.”

Bunsen didn’t want to even look up from the letter. He’d have much preferred to continue mindlessly reading the words, ignoring comprehension of them, for all the rest of time. They sat there wordlessly, as if caught in a stupor, for fifteen minutes, then a half hour.

Punnett had his hooves to his eyes Bunsen saw as he finally looked up. Eventually he took them away from his face. Still watering, the stallion sniffed a little, before he wiped his tears away and stood from his seat.

“I need to be with my wife and daughter,” the broken unicorn declared as he opened the study door, leaning against it with almost a sense of comfort in its stability.

“Punnett,” Bunsen weakly tried to say.

His friend replied sharply, “PLEASE! I’ve wasted two and a half precious months’ of Cadence’s life. I will never waste another day she has left.” There was a silence as Punnett continuing leaning on the door frame for a moment, before he finally said, “I need to be alone with my family for a while.”

Delicately, wordlessly, Bunsen stood up as he watched his friend leave the room, and he in kind left his friend’s house for the day. The earth pony made his way back to his home up above in Canterlot. Emotions he could barely control began to boil to the surface as he trotted up the winding mountain path.

The Princess had said no. She had done worse than failed; she hadn’t bothered to even try altogether.

How could she, after everything she had taught? How could this be her answer?

He only noticed he had arrived home when he found himself in his work studio. The anger and betrayal he had been trying to suppress finally burst forth, and he snapped. He threw his beakers to the left, their contents staining the wallpaper, eating it away slowly. His mechanisms flew to the right, clattering across the varnished, wooden floor. Finally, the object he had been working on before his departure nearly three months ago, a personal teleportation beacon, only half constructed at best, he threw to the ground, cracking its exterior, breaking the Arcanium circuits inside.

Hearing the commotion, Lily came to the studio as quickly as she could. She was now far along into her pregnancy, so it took her a bit of effort to get anywhere. When she came to the doorway she found her husband, his back to his workbench and chin to his chest. Teleporter in hoof, he now weakly banged it against the floor as he stared down into the floor.

“How could she do this,” he murmured, “How could she let this happen?”

It was in this moment that Lily began to put the pieces together, and she realized what it was Bunsen meant. Sympathetic tears for Punnett, Bolera, and Cadence came to her eyes as well, and she sat down beside her stallion gently, wrapping her hooves around him as she began to weep. In time he wrapped his foreleg, teleporter still in hoof, around her. They sat in that room, full of broken things and broken dreams, asking themselves why she had refused their friends’ request. After all they had hoped for, struggled for, and given up, why couldn’t one little girl be healed?

Bunsen hadn’t slept peacefully in years, but any night without stress induced nightmares and bad memories was as good as any sleep he could get. It was on this night, in the middle of August, when his sleep had felt relatively serene, that Lily shook him awake violently.

“Bunsen,” she said at a normal level of speech, but given the quietness of the night it felt like she had yelled it to him, “Bunsen, wake up! There’s something wrong: I think the baby’s coming.”

His eyes sprang open, and he was frozen for a second as he gazed into her eyes; this was happening. This wasn’t a dream. He sprang out of bed, and galloped to her side, helping her up gently.

“This is too early,” Lily exclaimed, fear and sweat billowing off her like heat, “What’s going on? What’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” was all Bunsen could sputter as he helped her out of the bedroom and slowly led her down the stairs to the main floor of their house, “Just stay calm, honey! We’ll get to the hospital. Just make sure to breathe!”

By the time they had arrived at Canterlot Medical the contractions had picked up. Lily’s eyes were watering, and even as she tried to breathe evenly the contractions would interrupt her, sending a new wave of pain over her body. The waves were sporadic, she couldn’t find a place to harmonize and breathe in and out correctly. Doctors and nurses placed her into a wheelchair gently, rushing her into the maternity wing.

“Please, let me be with-“

“I’m sorry sir, but you’re going to have to stay out here for now,” one of the doctor’s declared firmly as she stood in his way, forcing him to stay before a set of swing doors into which the other medical practitioners had taken his wife.

“I am a Prince of Equestria,” he blurted out of anger and desperation, “Let me see my wife!”

“Sir, it wouldn’t matter if you were Celestia or the Primeval Mother; you will wait out here. We will let you see her when we are finished!” The doctor then disappeared behind the double doors, leaving a aid to walk him to the waiting room.

He didn’t know or understand what was happening, or why. He had never felt so powerless in his life. Everything was out of his hooves as he sat waiting. He couldn’t sit still for long. Frantically he looked for the nearest piece of paper he could find, anything blank at all. At one of the floor stations he found a clipboard with paper. A mostly used up fountain pen was also nearby that only seemed to drop ink every other swirl. He didn’t care: it had to work. He furiously wrote, cursing himself when he poked through or ripped the paper as he tried to force ink out of the blasted pen.

Princess,

Wife in hospital. Miscarrying? If you care, please help.

–B.B.

When he was done he burst out of the waiting room and the hospital, galloping for his wife’s life to the nearest pegasus guardspony. The unlucky guard barely saw him coming before he bowled him over.

“M’lord,” he exclaimed, before the half-crazed stallion rammed the hayburger letter into his face.

“Get me the courier now! Life and death!”

“At once m’lord,” the lad said before he bolted off into the sky.

Bunsen screamed out after him, not caring that the few ponies around him looked on in fear, “Hurry! Save her!”

The courier, realizing her message was of the highest urgency, gave her everything, pushing every last ounce of strength she had into her wings, she covered a great deal of ground, but it was not enough. Lighting an emergency flare, she barreled into the nearest outpost, half dead from exhaustion, where a fresh pony took up her message, and he too gave his everything. A chain of ponies stretched to their limit helped to get the message to Griffonstone in a matter of hours.

When the message was delivered, the Princess immediately called recess. The note was simple and dreadful. Time was short.

For all her reasons, for all her premeditated arguments, she felt her conscience weigh down on her like a ton, screaming for her to leave, to help. Her violet eyes sparked, and she let the note fall to the floor as she returned to the table with the two Griffons.

“Ambassadors, a matter of greatest urgency has been delivered to me,” she declared, “I must return to Equestria immediately.”

“You cannot leave,” the Southern statesgriffon sputtered, “We have yet to solidify any informal agreement, let alone a treaty!”

“If you leave it is an insult to the North,” the Ambassador said as he slammed a balled claw down on the table, “and we do not take any affront lightly, Princess.”

The Princess snorted angrily as she stared at him, “Would you care to make your words plainer?”

“I would,” he declared as he stood on his back paws, leaning over the table towards, “If anyone leaves this dungheap we used to call a capital before we come to an agreeable treaty, I will personally see to us going to open war: North, South, and Equestria.” The Northern Ambassador’s eyes flashed, and he managed a big, predatory smile with his beak, “How many lives are you willing to bet that I’m bluffing, Princess?”

The Princess’ skillful practice in concealing her emotions helped her hide the seething rage inside behind a small, frustrated frown. It was now the Princess who felt powerless in the face of circumstance, and the cruelest part was that it was of her own making, whichever way she looked at it. If one of the North’s damned envoys even saw her leave for one second they would use that as grounds to start the civil war all over again, and this peace, or she more cynically considered a momentary cessation of hostility, would be destroyed. She wished that the consequences only fell on her, so that she could declare a one mare war on the Northern states, but the lives of the Southern Griffons and her ponies relied on her playing the part she was now forced into. Silently she fought back against the urge to even cry, but she simply sat down and continued to listen to the futile arguments, all the while repeating in her head, I’m sorry Bunsen, I’m so sorry.

It was now sixteen hours after Lily had been wheeled into the maternity ward. Bunsen was at his wits’ end. The courier should have arrived by now. She could have appeared at any time, teleported in on a wave of golden light. It would only take five minutes, and everything would be alright. Where was she? Was she already here and just hadn’t appeared before him? Where was she? He’d started writing on every sheet of paper available to him. Just writing to the Princess gave him some measure of comfort. Still his worries lingered close at hand.

Where was she? How was Lily? By the stars where was his Lily? Was she alright? What about the child?

The doctor came in.

Couldn’t look at him.

Why?

“…Didn’t make it…”

High pitched whining. Can’t hear but for few words.

“…lost her too…”

Deafening. Deny. Not possible.

“...couldn’t stop the bleeding…”

White noise collapsing in.

Giggling. Can’t stop laughing. Why laughing?

Crying. Rage. Laughter.

Dead. Dying. Inside out.

Why?

Why weren’t you there?

Teacher, why have you forsaken me?

Can’t believe. Impossible.

Fact. True. No more.

No more anything.

Screaming. Can’t stop.

Can’t stop. Can’t stop.

Bunsen Burner stood in the gathering snow. He hadn’t moved in several minutes. The wind and snow had built up around his legs. He barely noticed. He didn’t feel it. He simply gazed on at two tombstones, one much larger than the other.

Lily Cloverhoof Burner
Beloved wife and friend
YOL 953 – 978

The smaller tombstone was only half exposed to the open air now: the snow was covering up the rest. He knew what it said.

Beloved Foal
YOL 978

The wind was picking up he noticed. He could swear he was hallucinating, but he thought he heard his name being called. Then he realized that it was, in a voice he didn’t expect to hear in this place. He turned, stepping out of his hoofprints, and saw Ms. Lulamoon walking towards him, a white cloak and hat on her head, braced against the wind with her magic.

“Bunsen,” she called out as she approached again. Her expression was one of deep sadness and also a small pang of guilt.

“There’s a storm coming in,” she said. Unsure of how to approach him after that she added awkwardly, “Let’s go back to the house.”

He gave a sideways glance back to the graves in front of him. “Give me one minute,” he declared, just loud enough to be heard.

Trixie, a look of turmoil and empathic sorrow on her face, walked up beside him. She tossed a corner of her newly made cape over his barrel, blocking the wind from hitting him. Now that it was absent, he realized how cold the burning cut of the wind was, and he shivered a little.

“Let’s go,” he said.

Taking his signal, Trixie turned with him and walked in step back towards the cemetery entrance, continuing to shield them both from the wind and snow with her cape. Once they had made it back to the manor, and the young mare had dusted off her cape, she started to speak, “Bunsen-“

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he replied flatly as he cut her off. Realizing that that was a bit harsh, he turned to her. “Keep them,” he said a little more gently as he gestured to her new hat and cape.

She subconsciously touched her hat as he pointed to it.

Eventually he simply walked back towards what she assumed was his quarters, saying softly over his shoulder, “Happy Hearth’s Warming Eve.”

She wanted to go after him, but she stopped, once again standing in the hallway all alone. “Happy Hearth’s Warming Eve,” she said weakly after him.

Chapter 13

YOL 980

The shop’s bell tinkled as somepony stepped inside.

“Coming,” the old earth pony mare exclaimed as she approached the front from a back room, “Coming!”

She saw that her latest customer was a middle aged unicorn with a powder blue coat. There was something about him that seemed odd, she thought to herself as she came closer. He looked tired, his demeanor reeked of a shallowly buried depression, but his body language felt sharp and precise, as if every moment counted to him for some reason.

“How may I help you today, Sir?”

“Would you happen to have any books or scrolls on advanced healing arts,” he asked.

“Of course, of course! Our selection may not be as robust as Canterlot Library, but I pride myself on finding exotic pieces and knowledge, all of which is legally sanctioned, of course,” she finished with a slightly nervous cough.

“Of course,” he muttered to himself, “Please, show me.”

The old mare hobbled towards the back, and he followed close behind.

“I have many healing spells for you, oh yes,” she said excitedly, “It might be helpful, however, to know what it is you aim to cure.”

“Bone cancer,” he declared as he walked around the small room, taking in the titles of the books.

“Oh,” the old mare exclaimed softly, putting her hoof to her chest, “My sincerest condolences, Sir. Is it somepony close to you?”

“My daughter.”

Her hoof shot up to her mouth with a small gasp.

It was as she was explaining that her shop did not have any cures for such a condition that Punnett’s eyes fell on something strange. In a cardboard box, sitting on top of several other more degraded books, sat a dark black book. It was too thin to be a full tome. On its cover was depicted two six pointed stars, each traveling along a line in an arcing swirl. He picked it up to examine it further. It was old, he could tell for certain. Bolera, having studied stories for a living, had also taught him about how books were made at different times in Equestria’s history. The technique used to bind the pages together hadn’t been used in over six hundred years, but the pages, covers, and spine looked no older than a book a fraction its’ age. He came back to the cover, and examined it again; that mark, the age. This was either the best counterfeit in Equine history, or this was the genuine article.

“Oh, don’t bother with that,” the old mare said dismissively, “I got that for a few bits at an estate sale. There’s not even any real words written in it; just gibberish from some madpony.”

Punnett opened the journal, for that is what he was certain it was. Each page held the optical illusion of a large 3-Dimensional matrix, each point in it a symbol. As he looked further into the book, the symbols slowed in their arcing rotation, eventually settling into evenly spaced rows.

“It’s a cipher,” he whispered to himself.

The old mare furrowed her brow, “It’s never done that before,” and she then looked up to him, hesitantly saying, “Maybe it likes you.”

Perhaps she had meant it as a joke, but Punnett felt she had spoken the absolute truth.

“How much did you pay for it,” he asked.

“4 bits, but-“

He reached into his satchel, and dropped his whole coin purse into her hooves. After she had quickly counted she found he had given her 25.

“Sir, really, this is-“ but she found she was talking to thin air. He was already long gone.

It was not often that the Princess was seen outside of Canterlot Castle, and it was unheard of for her to travel unattended. Yet so it was, on a chilly early March morning, that she entered Canterlot Hospital. She rarely had reason to come here or any house of healing, but each time had been a social call: meeting a student one last time, witnessing the passing of dignitaries; she had more reason than most to see these places as houses of death, yet she did not give in to such thinking.

The receptionist was naturally quite surprised to see her, “Y-Your Majesty! How might I direct you today?”

“Good Morning,” she glanced at her nametag, “Blossom! I know where I’m going, but thank you for your assistance.”

“Of course, your Majesty.”

The Princess proceeded to the nearest stairs, winding her way to the second, and then third floor. As she walked down towards the southern wing, she pondered one last time on what she was about to do. She had found a new student, a young unicorn colt by the name of Fancy Pants, but he didn’t have the right temperament for what she required. There was no guarantee that another student with his level of brilliance and presence would appear. Time was almost up, and she needed somepony with his knowledge of government with direct ties to her should things turn for the worse. Even now, with twenty years before her sister’s return, she wasn’t sure he’d be ready even if she succeeded. Still, for the sake of her ponies, she had to try. She could not leave them abandoned.

She entered the Sanitarium wing in silence, her face not betraying her inner conflict. She found the room, 317, and stood outside. Within a few minutes’ time the doctor making his rounds appeared. Seeing she was waiting for him, he gave a slight bow and greeting while softly apologizing for his lateness.

“Don’t worry about it,” she declared as she continued to look at the door and its number, “How has he been?”

“His condition remains the same as ever,” the doctor said with a sigh, “Unresponsive, almost to the point of catatonia. He doesn’t react to any speech, movement, or sound. He has retreated so far into himself that it’s almost as if he’s in a waking coma.” He turned to her, a nervous expression on his face, “Are you certain about going through with this?”

“It’s necessary,” she declared, then looked back to him, “Thank you for your discretion.”

Taking that as his signal to be dismissed, the doctor continued on his rounds, silently praying that everything would turn out alright for his own sake.

The Princess unlocked the door with her magic, and stepped into 317.

Since the patient was nonviolent the room was furnished almost no differently than that of a nursing home. A small bed, night stand, and rocking chair were all that sat in the room. A window in the eastern wall allowed some small measure of light from the outside. The rocking chair sat in the corner adjacent to the window, making it the darkest place in the room. Within that rocking chair sat the remnant of what used to be Bunsen Burner.

He stared vacantly down at his lap, which was covered by a blanket to keep him warm. He gave no response as the Princess entered, who closed the door behind. While she had been constantly updated about his condition, this was the first time she had laid eyes on her former student since his admittance 19 months ago. She had been so ashamed to come back to Equestria far too late, and all of it for a peace treaty that had been broken by the Northern Griffon kingdoms a scant five months after its signing. For what they had forced on her she had enacted steep embargos, and brought all trade to a halt with them, effective for fifty years. She had hoped to leave him in peace; to find another solution that didn’t require tampering with his life ever again. She had to admit though that there was a small part of her deep down that had wanted to forget how she had failed him, to be able to shut away her mistake to be forgotten. It disgusted her that she had had that feeling, even momentarily.

She stood before her hollow student for a good five minutes of silence and reflection before she finally spoke, shattering the empty silence, “Hello Bunsen.”

He sat in his chair like he had been chiseled into it; a statue of flesh.

A rare look of uncertainty passed her face before she looked back to her student’s face, “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you when you needed me. I tried, but they twisted my own morals against me. I even attempted to travel back in time to make it right, but something kept me from being able to reach you.”

No response came from the broken earth pony, who continued to stare into his lap.

The Princess sighed, “There is a power coming that you would not believe, and it threatens the entire world and all life on it. I still need you by my side, but I need you to be more than you are now.”

Her horn lit up with golden light, and a small knife with a curved blade appeared from thin air. She then placed the tip of its edge near where her heart would have been.

She looked up to her student one last time before the plunge of no return, and declared, “I’m so sorry Bunsen, both for what has already happened and what is to come. Forgive me.”

She then slid the knife a small distance into her chest, grunting as she did, and drew it across to the other side. A golden light poured out of the wound where for any mortal there would have been blood, and a reservoir of great power shined into the room. Bright points of light leaked out of the opening in her chest, and she directed them towards the catatonic earth pony. The chain of particles flooded into Bunsen’s body, bathing him in the Princess’ miraculous energies. His body lurched backward at an almost unnatural angle, his spine straining against the muscles spasming throughout him. Beams of gold light burst forth from his eyes and mouth. His lungs took in a deep gasp of air, as if he was dead and had been recalled to life, which was then followed by deep, soul-wrenching scream. All the memories he had sought refuge from in his isle of oblivion came shattering in, drowning him in their pain and toxic emotions.

Unconscious of his actions, he burst forward and thrust his left hoof into the Princess’ face. Since she didn’t expect the blow she took the full force of it, staggering back as she did. He took another swing, connecting another blow. She rolled with the thrust this time, standing her ground. When he cocked his foreleg for another strike, she grabbed ahold of him with her magic and pinned him against the wall. The gash in her chest had already sealed shut, but not before a few points of light touched her face, regenerating the broken capillaries and reversing the swelling of her face before it even became visible. Her horn continued to glow, and a golden trail of light snaked its’ way out of the tip. The physical part of his mind was healed, but the psyche simply had too much to bear. He could no longer remain in his little world, but he could not accept or process what had happened to him either. Princess Celestia hoped to fix that. She had prepared for something like this, and while the influence of the mind was not her forte, she had studied enough to be able to construct this spell.

The light channeled directly into his forehead, and while his screaming did not stop his expression became more calm and less horrific looking. Using her own mind as a template she hoped to strengthen his, making him more resilient to his torments. She increased the potency of the spell, but nothing seemed to be working. She loathed herself for what she was doing: the act, the spell, how it was to her student, everything. The spell was based on one from a younger time in her life, when it had been a means to ‘reeducate’ those considered deviant by those who zealously followed her. During those years she had been known as Sol Invicta, goddess empress of a kingdom that meant to expand across the whole world, where the sun would always shine on it, and never go down. It was a time she looked back on in shame, but now it seemed that things hadn’t changed all that much over the centuries. When this thought occurred to her, her concentration broke, and the spell dissipated with it.

Bunsen Burner fell to the floor, landing on all hooves. The light had faded from his eyes, and his screaming had ended. He stood up slowly, and when he opened his eyes to look at the Princess, they stared back at her in a cold, striking manner, one like she had never seen from him. Though the consequences of her actions were not the ones she had expected, Bunsen was alert, aware, and cured. What had occurred was something quite beyond her better intentions.

“Bunsen,” she quietly, almost timidly asked as she approached, “Are you alright?”

His icy gaze pierced her heart, before he slowly, tone dripping with acidity, exclaimed, “You should have let. Me Be.”

The Princess didn’t object to what he had said, and took his admonishment in silence.

“You healed me over the likes of a little filly, and only after I became of use to you.”

He left the accusation hanging in the air, and it stung worse than the knife had to her.

He calmly walked towards the door, flicking the tossed aside blanket out of his path. He opened the door and then looked back at her, “And no, I won’t forgive you; not ever. Not even in a thousand years.”

This hurt worst of all, and the Princess was left alone by her former student. She deserved this, true, but that didn’t stop her from silently shedding a few tears; both for her student and their now destroyed relationship.

Bunsen Burner walked out of the hospital, not knowing or caring if he had any personal possessions on hold there. He remembered everything; his journey with Punnett Square, the failure of the Princess, the death of Lily. The only difference now was it was as if he were looking at them through a wall as thick as iron, but clear as glass. The memories were divorced from him, no different than if he were looking back on the life of another pony. Even if he was recalled to life, something had been left behind. The stallion’s body was there, but half his soul was gone. He was something new, but not something better.

“Come on, come on: what is it you’re trying to tell me?”

Punnett uttered these words in frustration as he stared at the text before his eyes. It had been weeks since he had bought this book, but it was not yielding its secrets. Upon seeing it herself, Bolera helped him to confirm, surprised as she was, that it was indeed the journal of Starswirl the Bearded. Every unicorn with even a passing knowledge of magic knew the legends of its contents, most if not all of it impossible.

Time travel measured in decades and centuries, not mere days.

Transmutation of any metal into gold, including the deadened element of Lead.

The greatest of these rumors, however, was the one which Punnett pursued: the study of alicorn physiology.

While he had an above average skill in solving puzzles, this was the likes of one Punnett had never seen. The structure of the now static symbols and the way in which they were spaced did indeed seem like language. Certain symbols appeared often enough that he deduced they were vowels, but the meaning of the symbols themselves proved elusive. Punnett leaned back in his study chair and sighed. It was early morning. Bolera and Cadence were halfway through a night’s sleep.

“Why would you lead me on this far, but not give me some kind of clue,” he asked the thin air.

He felt both hope and awareness slip away from him, and not but a few minutes later he was fast asleep. The lamp he had been using was almost out of oil, and the flame was beginning to flicker, ready to give out.

Suddenly, however, the fuel inside the lamp began to refill, and the wick was opened up. Light flooded the room once again, but the poor scholar remained asleep.

A piece of parchment was placed on the desk and silently rolled open.

A nearby quill was picked up, and began to write.

A soft blanket materialized above the slumbering Punnett, and gently fell around him, which he unconsciously settled into.

“You have a pure heart,” an old, kindly voice declared, “The love for your daughter makes you worthy in my eyes.”

Hoofsteps sounded as the stranger trotted away. Before he left though he gave Punnett enough of a nudge to stir him momentarily. The weary geneticist blinked. He thought he saw a small flash from behind his chair. Then he heard the sound of many small jingling bells. He thought nothing of it at the moment and returned to his exhausted sleep.

It wasn’t until midmorning that he awoke again, and discovered his odd situation. He was covered in a blanket he had never seen before. The oil to his lamp was only now beginning to run out, when he was certain it was in the same state several hours ago.

Then he saw the note, written in a flourished, ancient style nothing like his own. He gently picked it up and read it.

The symbols correlate to the northern hemisphere’s constellations circa 236. Aithon marks ‘A’. The Ursa is ‘U’. The Hunter stands for ‘H’. Good luck. I hope you find what you seek.

Punnett frowned as he thought about the message. He knew the constellations well enough, but-

He looked back down at the text. He recognized the shape of Aithon, the flaming planet of just war, and his sign. He transposed it with the letter A. In breathless doubt he did the same with the primordial beast Ursa’s sign with U, then the Minotaur Hunter with H.

He began to see a pattern. No, the whole pattern!

He began to wheeze in ecstatic laughter. The answer was attainable! He could save Cadence.

Then he remembered the sound from the night before, and the flash from behind his chair. He hurriedly looked back to where he expected the flash had been, even though it was long gone. He didn’t know what to believe in anymore, with the possible exception of one thing: miracles.

Chapter 14

Trixie just barely got her staff up in time to block a swing at her midsection on her right. Twisting her tool across her forelegs, she made to hit Bunsen with the bottom of her staff in an uppercut. Dodging the attack by twisting to his left and her right, he brought his staff back towards himself, recentering his stance and his hold. Thrusting his staff out at an angle, its arc was centered on her right shoulder as it came down. Sensing what he meant to do, Trixie teleported in a flash of magenta light and fireworks, reappearing behind him to lock him in a neckhold with her staff.

She smirked as she drew her hold a little closer to Bunsen’s throat, just enough to make him uncomfortable but not harm him, “Yield to me. The student has surpassed the master!”

“Have you,” he replied calmly, right before he slammed his hoof down on the tip of her right wall. While it did not hurt her, being a dense mass of keratin, it did cause her to flinch, and consequently loosen her grip. He swiftly brought his own staff back behind her head to grab just near the knap of her neck. Using his own body as a fulcrum, he flung Trixie over himself, launching her a few feet away to land in a pile of limbs and cape. Returning to his centered stance, he tapped the right end of his staff to his right hoof, and the hint of a smile was on the edge of his mouth, “Explain to me how you think so.”

Trixie looked up at him and threw her staff straight up into the air. Bunsen didn’t have time to react as he saw the staff vanish, only to have the rounded tip of it bury into his back, putting just enough force into him to knock him off balance and onto the floor face first a few feet from his pupil. She snickered a little at his unusual lack of coordination and his surprised expression, his glasses half falling off his face. He looked over at her, and his muted smile returned. They both picked themselves up and dusted off.

“Your capacity for quick thinking is getting better,” Bunsen declared, “and while you do occasionally get in a pinch, your unorthodox style gives you some fluidity of approach.”

Trixie grinned at his pronouncement, “So I’m doing very well then?”

“To be frank there’s only so many things left that I can teach you,” he replied as he took both of their combat staves and leaned them next to the fireplace, “There’s only so much magic I can help you with, and you’ve taken to your physical training in a way I’ve never seen before.” He turned back to her, “I suppose the only thing still uncertain is what you intend to do once you’re done here.”

Trixie’s smile shrank, and her thoughts drew her inward. She had been so thirsty to learn more, to do more, that she hadn’t really paid much heed to what the future held. She didn’t have much in the way of worldly means or possessions, which was a bit of a blessing and a curse. She supposed what really mattered was where she was going, not necessarily what she would do.

“I think I’ll stop in Baltimare first,” she said softly, “I haven’t seen my family in a very long time. After that…I’m not so sure. My chances of getting a new show off the ground are, well, limited to say the least.”

Bunsen could feel the uncertainty inside her from across the room it was so thick. “You have more talent than just what you could fit into a spectacle,” he said as he approached her, “You’re an intelligent mare; you can find something that fulfills you.”

She looked him in the eye, wondering where he was going with what he had said. He continued, bringing his hoof up as he spoke, “We are all like seeds. We can’t remain focused on what was or who we were. It is our function to germinate. Others can then see what things may have been hidden from us as we grow, whether they are skills, qualities, or relationships.” He paused for a moment, and then spoke again, “I know what your original dream meant to you. Perhaps it doesn’t have to die; it just needs to grow.”

Trixie blinked, and a contemplative frown appeared on her face. “What do you think I should do,” she asked.

Bunsen had been about to leave her for the day, and was even in the process of turning away when he heard what she said. He stopped in his tracks. This, as far as he could recall, was the first time she had asked for help. He’d certainly been more than generous with guidance and advice, but this was something new. He slowly returned to her, and in a legitimately inquisitive tone said, “Why are you asking me?”

Trixie looked back at him, and without batting an eye replied, “Because I trust you.”

The old pony unconsciously cocked his head a few degrees and confusion faintly appeared on his face. Eventually he looked back at her, scrutinizing her for a few seconds before he declared, “You should not offer me that luxury.” He turned away once again, and spoke over his shoulder, “I don’t know what you know. I can’t live your life. The best pony you could ask about your future is yourself.”

Trixie watched him leave, and as she did she wondered about what he had said first. Bunsen had always been honest with her, often to the point of bluntness, even when she had been unwilling to be honest with herself. What was it about what she had said that made him so unsettled? She wasn’t sure whether to feel hurt or not, but then she began to wonder if what he had said about trusting him was for his benefit or her own?

Hours passed. Once again Bunsen sat in his study by candlelight. He leaned his face on his right hoof, slightly rotating it in place as he considered the state of things. She was almost ready, but his own question penetrated his thoughts: What did he intend to do once she left? He had grown fond of her in his isolation. He was happy for the interaction with another pony. They had entered into a symbiotic relationship he now realized; each providing structure and order to the other. He gave her tutelage, and she gave him a reason to tutor. That time, however, was almost up. He blinked hard, and exhaled heavily into his hoof. Bunsen knew all too well about endings. He knew their nature intimately. Each time when contact with another pony he valued deeply was severed, he felt a shift in his soul, his very life. He hated the sense of upheaval it brought. He accepted it would happen again, as he did value this young mare deeply, but she had a future worth living for and he did not. It was not his intent, however, to leave her without a memento. He opened one of the lower drawers in his desk, drawing out a long rack of files.

He knew what he’d give her, should she succeed in one last trial. It was an old idea, born out of a joint research project with the Minotaurs in Labyrinth. It wasn’t initially intended for unicorn use, but he most certainly could customize it to her needs. With her natural talent as a lancer and bipedal fighting style it would prove a very effective compliment. As he took the prototype print down to his drafting table in the lab, he also noted that he hadn’t designed anything for another pony in a very long time; not since Punnett.

YOL 981

Three knocks resounded at the front door, each thud resonated an equal gap from the last. Bolera trotted to answer it, unsure of whom it could possibly be; it was too early for the postpony. Undoing the lock, she slowly opened the door, glancing through the gap between it and the frame to scrutinize who it could be. The pony she saw caused her to inhale sharply in surprise. It was a very grim stallion, one she hadn’t seen in almost two years.

“Good afternoon, Bolera,” Bunsen declared, the level of calmness surrounding him almost unnerving in its stasis, “Is Punnett available? I’d wish to speak with him.”

She nodded, with a trickle of nervousness seeping into her body language, “Yes, he’s here. Let me quick fetch him. Come in, please!”

“My thanks,” he said: a normally warm statement simply hung in the air, empty of feeling, more the result of a mechanical process than heartfelt emotion. Bunsen escorted himself into the living room.

“Would you like anything to drink,” His hostess asked before he sat down.

“Tea please, if you have it, with three cubes of sugar.”

Bolera blinked, but let her feelings slide before she nodded and called out towards the study, “Mio Marito! We have a guest!”

Bunsen heard the voice of his friend faintly through the wooden door, “Do they really need me? I’m close to getting it worked out!”

“You’ll want to stop for this one I think,” as she walked away towards the kitchen, “It’s Bunsen.”

“Bunsen,” he heard Punnett murmur his name. He was momentarily surprised by the sharpness of his hearing now, but it was a very quiet afternoon he rationalized.

In not too long of a moment Punnett emerged from the hallway into the living room, and his eyes grew wide. His friend blankly looked back at him, as if things were completely in the norm.

With uncharacteristic enthusiasm Punnett galloped to his best friend and threw his forelegs around him, letting out an involuntary burst of joyous laughter, “You’re back! You’re well! This is the best thing I’ve seen in weeks!” He drew out to look his friend in the face, “I’m living in an impossible world!”

“Indeed,” Bunsen replied, without the tiniest shred of happiness in his voice, “I could very much say the same. When I returned to the RSD I fully expected you’d be there, yet I found out that you had willingly sought termination some eight months ago.” Punnett’s smile began to drain away, but Bunsen pressed on, seemingly unaware, “I dug deeper; your psychological evaluations revealed feelings of depression, agitation, and passive aggression towards authority.”

Punnett slowly backed away to sit on a floor cushion opposite his guest, before he replied, “So this is how we start off again after almost a year and a half? No, ‘Hi, how are you’?”

Bunsen blinked and shook his head a little, “I suppose that is true. I was just so surprised by your actions and the evaluations; they didn’t mesh with what I expected.”

The powder blue unicorn leaned back into his seat and put his forehooves gently together, nodding his head slightly, “Well, a lot has changed since…we last saw each other. The doctors came back with a new prognosis on Cadence; that she would have less than three years, and the symptoms would only get worse. Given that there was a definite solution, but that it was being withheld from her, I allowed myself to become a little more,” he coughed a little, “surly than usual. I kept looking for another way to cure her leukemia though,” he then leaned in closer, and his voice shook a little, “and by some miracle I found one!”

Bunsen’s head cocked, “What do you mean?”

“I found an old book when I went out searching for ancient healing rights at random, and when I found it and I realized what it was saying I quit my job, putting all my time into understanding it without any measure of oversight.”

Bunsen shook his head slowly and brought his hooves up, “Punnett, this is insane. What book could possibly be worth risking your family’s future for? What did it promise you?”

Punnett began to smile again as he leaned almost out of his seat, “I found the journal.”

Bunsen’s brow furrowed and he rubbed his chin in confusion as he tried to think of what Punnett meant.

The unicorn repeated with added emphasis, “I found THE journal.”

Bunsen froze, and then turned to look his friend straight in the eyes. Punnett nodded with a smile.

“Impossible,” he exclaimed.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being your friend Bunsen it’s that our lives are bigger than impossible, and I’ve even been witness to it myself!”

Bolera entered the room at this point balancing a tray on her head. She gently placed it down on the coffee table near the both of them. “Thank you, sweetie,” Punnett gently said to her as she left to check on Cadence.

Bunsen reached out, scooped the three sugarcubes into his cup, and gently began to stir it with the spoon between his teeth. Punnett looked at him in abject surprise, which the earth pony did notice with a quick, “What”.

“In all the years I’ve known you you’ve never drank tea before.”

Bunsen looked back down at the drink, almost as if he were waking up and seeing it for the first time, saucer in his right hoof, with the cup balanced in his left. Part of his mind demanded he put the drink down, but the other part of him conquered his initial revulsion, and he gently sipped it. It was simultaneously vile on his tongue and exactly what he had wanted.

“Perhaps my palette is expanding,” he muttered, “and what do you mean, ‘You’ve been witness to the impossible’?”

Punnett shifted his haunches slightly “I’ve found a way to save my daughter, but the process to do so…it’s beyond any magic, any science previously seen by equinity.”

“And yet nopony previous who held this book has discovered this?”

Punnett put his hooves to his chest as he spoke, “I know it makes me a lousy scientist now to say it, but this book chose me. It’s incomprehensible to anypony else, but it appears to me as a cipher, and once I cracked it I found such incredible knowledge.” Punnett smiled at his friend, “It was an epiphany like no other.”

Bunsen’s thoughts brought up all sorts of alarms about what Punnett was saying, but he had to give him a chance to fully explain himself, “What was in the journal?”

“Almost seven hundred years ago Starswirl studied Princess Celestia’s physiology. What he described was something almost unreal. To be an alicorn is to be magic incarnate. All the things common to us mortals; eating, sleeping, aging, getting sick, they are a joke to the likes of an alicorn! An alicorn is not a natural stage of evolution: they’re created. Starswirl expected some level of worthiness was necessary for this process to succeed, but he never saw his theory completed, but I think I can do it!”

As Punnett finished he began to breathe a little heavier before he started to return to normal.

Bunsen looked at his friend, not betraying any emotion, his hoof obscuring his mouth.

The unicorn searched his eyes, looking for any sign that Bunsen understood him, that he believed him.

“How,” Bunsen declared with a frown.

“All my life I’ve been in pursuit of the secrets of DNA; how we’re all connected by chains of amino acids, lipids, and sugars. This is the secret though! This is the missing piece of Starswirl’s theory! An alicorn’s ‘worthiness’ is determined by their genetic makeup! Cadence has a better chance, if not the best chance any of us could have in this process.”

“Two donors: a pegasus and a unicorn,” Bunsen muttered to himself before returning his thoughts back to his friend, “In theory it makes some sense, but alicorns are said to be a mix of the three primary races. Where does the earth pony DNA fit in this picture?”

“My mother was one,” Punnett quickly replied, “How the process will work is a gigantic dose of transmutative magic. Given some preparatory compounds, once Cadence is exposed, the magic in conjunction with a great surge of energy should be enough to overcome the transformation threshold, curing her.”

Bunsen nodded slowly before he declared aloud, “This sounds absolutely insane. If a Solar Cultist from the old days before the Purge heard what you’d said, you’d be condemned for heresy of the highest magnitude. Even now, this is…How can you be certain Starswirl didn’t want this to remain lost forever? He respected the natural world; why is it our right to suddenly play the act of godmakers?”

Punnett grew visibly uncomfortable, rubbing his hooves together, looking away from him, “You’d think I’m crazy.”

“I am crazy,” Bunsen declared matter-of-factly, “After what we’ve seen, what I’ve seen, I don’t think normal is real anymore.”

The unicorn glanced back at him, “It makes no sense any other way, and it doesn’t make much sense even now as I say it, but I think Starswirl chose me to see this. When I was at my lowest, I woke up in a blanket I’ve never seen, received clues to the cipher protecting the book in writing that wasn’t mine, and I heard tiny jingling bells. Long range time travel is real, and I know I can’t prove it, what little evidence I have is barely evidence at all, but I solved the cipher, and I know things I can’t explain.” Punnett shook his head and laughed a little, “I can’t rightly call myself a scientist anymore. Do you really believe me though?”

Bunsen looked at him, considered everything that had been said, and flipped it over in his head, looking for weak spots. There were plenty.

“Wait,” Punnett declared, putting up a hoof as he left, and galloped to his study. In just a few seconds time he returned with a thin grey booklet which he gave to Bunsen. “My notes,” he said, “I can give them to you for a day, but I’ll need your response back by then. We have little time. Cadence turned eight while you were…away. She has less than a year now. Time is against us.”

Bunsen flipped through the pages. The translation was on the left side of each page, while quick script was written on the right, with a smattering of diagrams throughout.

“Given what needs to happen, I can only trust you to help make the mechanism for the procedure,” Punnett declared, “No one else would give me a chance, and that was just telling them about the gene modification part only.”

“If I do this I leave my right to call myself a scientist behind as well,” Bunsen declared as he looked up to his friend, “This is pure conjecture. There’s no evidence to suggest we are capable of even doing this. Are you willing to put your daughter’s life on the line just to see if this could work, something that could potentially harm her?”

“I’m certain of my translation,” the unicorn replied, “and I believe my transmutation theory will work. If you can build me a small scale apparatus for testing, I can prove or disprove this once and for all.”

Bunsen glanced once again at the book in his hooves, then back up at his friend. “I’ll consider it,” he declared, “but only if your theory, not your translation, proves persuasive.”

Punnett threw his forelegs around Bunsen once again; he did not return the gesture. “Thank you for believing me,” his friend exclaimed.

“I don’t know if I do Punnett,” he declared, “but for Cadence’s sake, if it’s possible, I will.”

Chapter 15

Three months passed as if days were like minutes. Bunsen and Punnett had remained in close contact with each other during that time, as was to be expected by others of very close colleagues. As the results from the geneticist’s testing came to him, the earth pony began to realize that his friend’s theory appeared to be plausible, at least until it could be validated by his peers. The designs of their transmutative inducer were complete, and the construction was finished. It would be a few days before they were shipped, but not straight to their final destination. Bunsen made certain they would first be shipped to a private laboratory in Trottingham, and then wired a private shipping company to take them to Manehattan. From there they would finally arrive at the Square household. He could not afford questions or prying eyes; neither of them could.

“I was able to slip out as much as I could,” Bunsen said as they watched Bolera’s struggle to teach Cadence how to fly, “But the Arcanium is locked up tight. Without a report and an acquisition form explaining why it was being used, I couldn’t move more than two pounds of it without being noticed.”

Wearily Punnett glanced at his friend momentarily before shifting his footing slightly, “Well, you tried at least. You shouldn’t worry too much about it, Bunsen. What matters is that we have the inducer ready.”

“But if we have no Arcanium there’s no point to even attempting this procedure. With no stored magic available to us it could take hundreds of unicorns at their peak to even try to power this machine.”

“So long as we can hit the mutation threshold the process will cascade, and the cure will succeed.”

They quietly watched another attempt by Cadence to get enough lift to leave the ground, but her wings simply weren’t strong enough. She strained as hard as she could, flapping her wings with all her feeble might. Her hooves began to leave the earth, but after only a few seconds she was spent. Her breathing was heavy as she returned to the ground.

“That was a good attempt, Mi Amore,” Bolera declared gently, “Let’s try working on your gliding skills, yeah?”

“Yeah!” she blurted before coughing a little as she took in a deep breath and looked to her father, “Daddy look! Mommy’s going to let me sky-dance again!”

“That’s wonderful Cadence,” he replied enthusiastically despite his tiredness, “We’ll be watching you from down here!”

Bunsen scrutinized his friend more thoroughly now. His calmness about the near absence of probably the most vital component in their designs had confused him. He now noticed his friend’s eyes were baggy, and his legs were spasming slightly at random intervals, and his barrel was now much leaner than he had ever seen it. He could almost swear he could see the beginnings of his ribs peeking through his skin. These were all expected behavioral markers given the situation; stress related fasting, chemical imbalances, insomnia, anxiety. His friend’s cavalier attitude made Bunsen rethink his assessment. It was something more extraordaniary.

“What have you done,” he quietly asked.

“What do you mean,” his friend replied without taking his eyes off his daughter as his wife flew her through the air. Flying upside down, Bolera matched her daughter’s hooves to her own, and began to slowly descend, allowing the wind to flutter under the young pegasi’s feathers, helping her to understand how to control her wings better.

Bunsen’s eyes flashed in warning, “Don’t play coy with me. You’re suffering from magic exhaustion; where have you been sinking all of your energy?”

“I had the help of a generous soul in Materials, that’s all you need to know.”

Bunsen’s eyes widened a little, but his neutral expression did not change as Punnett continued, “I’ve been charging up the plates every chance I had, making sure they’d be ready. By the time the rest of the components are here, they’ll all be ready to go.”

“I have the excuse of helping you without using my government position, but you’ve created a security leak in the RSD,” Bunsen quietly hissed, “If you are discovered, or if your contact finds a way to blow the whistle on you without consequence you will be imprisoned!”

Punnett finally turned to look at him, and his attitude was one of veiled grief and frustration, “I’ve crossed many lines Bunsen; they don’t have much meaning to me anymore.”

“It does Cadence no good, cured or not if you put yourself behind bars. You’d be charged with unlawful purchase of government property at the least; you could be given worse for violating your Exclusive Operations Agreement.”

“If the procedure succeeds that won’t matter,” Punnett said, unswayed by his friend’s warnings, “Of all the ponies I know, I would have thought you would understand my struggle most of all. I have watched my daughter waste away for almost all of her entire life. Now that she has mere months to live I will stop at nothing to see her cured. If you had the chance again, wouldn’t you do the same for Lily?”

Bunsen’s eyes sparked with anger, and his nostrils flared meaningfully as he looked the unicorn straight in the eye. “Do not presume to use my wife against me,” he growled, “There is no equating what happened to her and what is happening to your daughter.”

Punnett looked back at him, his calmness finding some way to infuriate Bunsen even more. “You have a point,” Punnett replied coolly, “Lily was taken from you far too quickly, and it was beyond your control. We both trusted in Celestia, and that belief failed us both. Even so, look at what we have accomplished! Cadence has a chance at life now because of your generosity. Regardless of what I’ve done, doesn’t she deserve that?”

The both of them noticed that Bolera and Cadence were touching down in the front lawn, and that they would not be alone for much longer.

Turning to Bunsen, Punnett offered up one last plea, “I know you’ve changed since you were released, but deep down I believe you are still the same caring soul I’ve known for over ten years. I’m begging you, help me save Cadence. Nopony else can.”

Bunsen didn’t know how to respond; his emotions all boiled deep inside, but he didn’t understand them all.

“Hello Uncle Bunsen,” Cadence chirped as she and her mother approached.

“Hello Cadence,” Bunsen declared as he reshuffled his mind, putting his feelings aside for the moment, “Did you enjoy your flight today?”

“I did,” she nodded enthusiastically, “I can’t wait until I can do it for real after I’m cured!”

Bunsen couldn’t help but smile faintly to himself; even though her doctors had given her months to live, her optimism never wavered. He couldn’t tell if it was simply the ignorance of youth, or if she had inherited this brightness of personality from her father.

“I’m going to do so much,” she continued, not waiting for a reply from him, “I can’t wait to finally be able to go to school and make friends, and I can’t wait to get my Cutie Mark!”

Her dreams of the future penetrated deep into his mind, reaching down even into the glass vault behind which his closest memories were held; against this innocent assault, the walls around his past life cracked, and something of the pony he had once been seeped through. He had been going to have a child, before the world was robbed of her. Seeing the unrestrained hope his goddaughter had, her untamed love of life, despite the hand fate had dealt her, his sense of duty called him out.

“But what I can’t wait to end most of all is the nasty medicine I have to take,” Cadence finished, her face scrunching up in memory of the revolting concoction, “Eech!”

“You shouldn’t have to worry about that much longer sweetheart,” Punnett declared.

“Yes, my dear,” Bolera interjected, “You’ll only have to suffer it for a few more days. Then you’ll never have to take it again.”

She then ushered her daughter inside, while Punnett hung back to talk to Bunsen, “We will send you a telegram once the parts arrive. I suppose you can either help then or have me arrested afterward.”

Bunsen thought a few seconds more, before he looked at his friend, “I have a contact on the board of Weather Regulation: I’ll have a message sent as soon as you’re ready, and a lightning storm will be available for that night.”

Punnett’s eyes widened as he realized what his friend meant, and he put a hoof on his shoulder, “Thank you.”

Bunsen nodded, and softly declared, “For Cadence, and a bright future.”

Lightning arced across the sky, while the thrumming boom came only a second or two behind it. The valley below Canterlot was darkened beneath a boiling night sky; rain had not yet fallen, so all that could be felt outside was an ominous wind, flashing lights, and the roars that came shortly after. Out of this darkness walked Bunsen Burner, a raincoat wrapped tightly around him, and a hat on his head to shield him from the untimely rain. Punnett’s home was not far away now. The future before them: him, Punnett, Bolera, and Cadence, was murky. Whatever came of this night would have life altering repercussions, no matter which way they looked.

Another bolt sizzled through the air, striking a large rod atop the Square household, channeling the energy down into the room they had set up for the procedure. The immediacy of the strike caused the hairs on the back of Punnett’s mane to stand on end, despite his own mental reassurances that everything was fine. As they waited for Bunsen, he and Bolera held each other a little closer, not out of fear of the storm but for their own thoughts on the uncertain hours ahead. For all the certainty and hope that he had shown his friend a few days ago, and for all her desire to see her baby girl be able to have a healthy life, they were scared. While being near, holding, and gently stroking each other didn’t remove their fear for their daughter, it did comfort them both, calming their nerves for what they intended to do.

They both heard the faint knock at the door, and they stiffened. It was time; ready or not.

Bolera went to wake Cadence, while Punnett ushered Bunsen in.

“Let’s begin final checks,” Punnett declared, alert but physically tired. He had drained a great deal of magic off himself to ensure that the Arcanium cells they were using were fully charged.

Bunsen quickly took readouts across them all, ensuring that they were all working and ready.

“Arcanium’s at peak: ready for output.”

Punnett went to check on the electric transformer. Fueled by the lightning, it would power the transmutation chamber itself, beginning the process until the magic was ready.

“Readout’s in the green. Capacitors are holding steady.”

They both came together to check the transmutation chamber. Electric and magical power was being transmitted without issue. Nothing was wrong with the grounding lines. The chamber’s seal was good. They were ready.

“Cadence,” Bolera murmured softly as she opened her daughter’s room, “It’s time.”

The little pegasus filly’s eyes softly opened, and she gently stretched before letting out a soft sigh. “Is it okay if I’m a little scared, Mommy,” she asked as she softly stepped down out of her bed.

“Of course, my dear,” she said as she slowly offered her hoof out to steady her daughter’s trot, who took it gladly.

“Mommy, why are you shaking,” little Cadence asked as they entered the hallway slowly.

“Because I’m worried for you,” she said as she looked down to her daughter, “But your father and I will always love you, no matter what happens.”

“You know, no matter how certain I am that my theory will work, or that we’ll succeed,” Punnett exclaimed as he shook his head, “The parent in me is almost too afraid to go through with this.”

Bunsen solemnly put his hoof on his friend’s shoulder as they stared into the transmutation chamber. “I’ll be here to help you both,” he said softly.

“I know,” he replied, before a small, sad smile appeared on his face, “It’s funny, but that same feeling is what is also causing me to press on. That’s what it means to be good parent I guess: wanting the best for your child, even in spite of your fears and misgivings. Sacrificing everything to give them a better future.”

Bolera and Cadence entered the makeshift lab, their pace steady. Cadence looked up at the mysterious machinery, wondering what each partial system did, before her father approached.

“Are you ready, Cadence,” he asked.

The little filly nodded.

Another round of thunder pealed out across the valley, and Cadence took in a quick breath in surprise. Instinctively she reached forward and hugged her father tightly, who reached down and held her too. Bolera reached down, embracing them with both her forelegs and her wings.

Bunsen watched them from a few feet away, a trickle of sadness flowing into his heart. That things had come to this dangerous juncture: that they had to jump into the unknown headlong with no choice but to do so. All this made him think about was his teacher’s inaction. He would have thought he would be angry at her for this, even so far as hating her for it. He then realized that you can only hate those you know, and he’d have to say he didn’t know who she was anymore.

“Will it hurt,” Cadence asked softly.

Punnett glanced at Bolera, and they shared a look before turning their gaze back to her, “We don’t know. Just be strong for us, sweetie.” He then brought a syringe towards them with his magic; even this simple act was difficult given Punnett’s fatigue. “I’m going to give you something to put you to sleep for the operation,” he told her gently, “When you wake up, you’ll be better.”

“Can I sky-dance tomorrow,” she asked, never letting go her embrace of her parents.

“We’ll see,” Bolera said softly as Punnett began the injection, “We love you so much.”

“I love you too,” she whispered as she began to fall asleep, before she breathed, “Ciao.”

“Ciao,” Bolera replied softly as her tears welled up. Punnett silently sobbed as they brought their daughter in a little closer to their hug.

The thunder called again, reminding them why they were all there. Bunsen turned to look up to the ceiling, imagining the raging skies above, before turning to look back at his friend and nodding, “It’s time.”

Gently they settled her into the chamber, her body so much tinier than they remembered it being. Bunsen took up his position near the console readout, monitoring all data coming in. Bolera and Punnett slowly closed the door to the transmutation chamber, locking it into place. They both took one last look through the portcullis at their daughter, before they too took their positions. Punnett walked unsteadily toward the Arcanium cells, blinking heavily as he examined them one last time. Bolera flew gently to the electric transformer, landing just in front of it.

“Begin fluid injection,” Punnett called out.

Bunsen took hold of the lever on the farthest left of the console and locked it in the upward position, “Alchemical reservoir open; flooding to chamber.”

Pink fluid began to flow from its storage tank into the dome shaped chamber, surrounding the diminutive pony inside. Slowly she began to rise from where she had been laid. The chamber continued to fill until it reached half capacity, and flow was cut to it.

Punnett now gestured to his wife, “Extend the lightning rod. Open up the circuits to the chamber…now.”

Bolera flicked every switch on the transformer to the open position and then turned a wheel on its readout. Outside the lightning rod rose higher, a knife piercing the black skies. The coils of the transformer began to hum as they stepped the stored energy down to the voltage needed. Power coursed through the cables leading into the transmutation chamber. The energy began to react with the alchemical blend therein, and a faint pink glow appeared through the glass window. The compounds that Cadence had been given over the past few months began to interact with both the energy and the chemicals.

“All readings within range,” Bunsen called out, and then looked to the far right of the console. There was a pattern of diodes shaped along an inverse exponential curve, with the target running along a line that read ‘transmutative threshold’. The first light at the very bottom left lit up, then the one just above and to the right lit up as well, “Alchemical reaction is beginning.”

“Come on, sweetie,” Punnett growled under his breath, “You’re strong. Fight this through for just a little longer.”

The light coming from the transmutation chamber grew in intensity.

“33%” Bunsen called out.

The reagents in Cadence’s body triggered in conjunction with the potion surrounding her; the bright shining fluid began to flow inside of her, penetrating her frail body, preparing her for the magical transfusion she was about to receive.

“66% Threshold,” Bunsen exclaimed breathlessly.

Lightning struck, thunder roared.

Punnett looked at the chamber that held his daughter intensely murmuring, “Be strong,” while Bolera held her hooves to her mouth, pleading “Be safe.”

Finally the diode at the Threshold line lit up.

“100%!” Bunsen yelled, and his hoof hovered over the button that would introduce the magic charge.

Punnett threw open the circuit on the Arcanium power bank, and yelled, “Now!”

Bunsen slammed down on the Transmutation button, activating it. A sharp blue light illuminated the room before it channeled through the coils connecting the power bank to the chamber. The light seemed to burst out of it through the portcullis, but it quickly faded.

Punnett and Bolera rushed over to look into the chamber as soon as they could see inside.

Bunsen didn’t have a clear view so he leaned over the console before calling out, “Did it work?”

The sight Punnett was met with was amazing. Amongst the remaining liquid floated Cadence, her wings and body smeared with it. The strange thing was that there was an irradiated afterimage surrounding her head. The faintest outline of a horn seemed to appear to be attached to her head, but it swiftly faded from their sight as they watched.

Bolera’s eyes were filled with awe, and she looked to her husband, and he to her.

“It is possible,” she whispered.

“Did it work,” Bunsen asked again.

“No,” Punnett replied his expression a mix of excitement and worry, “but we’re close. The theory’s right, but I underestimated the Threshold’s value! How much magic do we have left?”

Bunsen checked the readout before calling back, “About 63% charge.”

Punnett ran back to the power bank, and opened up a panel on the side. The many plates were wired in parallel with each other, each glowing at varying strengths with their blue light. “Give her another hit,” he called out, and then pointed his horn at the plates. Blue tendrils creeped out of his horn and linked with the Arcanium plates, their light glowing slightly brighter as the seconds ticked by.

Bunsen hit the button again; once again power surged into the chamber. Bolera looked away and shielded her eyes, while Punnett threw everything he had into charging up the power bank. He was so tired, he could barely stand up as his legs wobbled.

The light faded from the transmutation chamber again, and he disconnected himself with a gasp. He was dizzy like he’d never been before. Red floaters appeared in his vision.

“Did it work,” he asked with a hint of pain in his voice.

Bolera looked into the chamber again. The horn afterimage was stronger, but it ultimately faded away.

“It’s still not enough,” she said with a Mustangian curse as she stamped her hoof and began to cry.

Bunsen looked down at the readout. Punnett had pumped everything he physically could into that blast of energy. They only had 19% power left.

Punnett glanced up at him, a strange look in his eye as he trembled and gasped for breath. He knew, without Bunsen even verbalizing it. He slowly walked closer to his wife, who realized what Bunsen’s silence meant, and she began to shake her head softly.

“There’s one last thing we can try,” Punnett declared softly. He met his wife and embraced her before he turned to look at the earth pony, “So long as we hit that Threshold, the rest of the process will cascade.”

“Punnett,” Bunsen replied quietly, “There’s nothing that can be done. There’s not enough power. We failed-“

“We will hit it,” Punnett yelled as he turned to Bolera and looked her straight in the eyes, “Together.”

Bunsen’s mind turned over as he slowly gained an inkling of what the unicorn meant to do, “You’ve never tried anything like this before! Synergetic magic isn’t something to be attempted on a whim!”

Punnett’s horn lit up as he closed his eyes, and he kissed Bolera. She leaned into it with him. His blue magic grew to an intensity Bunsen had never seen. Suddenly a purple and velvet light began to circle his horn. The earth pony looked in amazement as he realized the origin of the magic was Bolera, the light streaming from her chest. Punnett’s blue light was now emanating from both his horn and his chest, their magicks intertwining, meeting as one at his horn.

Bunsen looked on, helpless as he now realized the full extent of what they meant to do. As they broke their kiss, they looked down to him, a sad smile on their faces. They gestured to him. He looked down at his hoof and the switch, then back to them. They silently nodded, then wrapped their hooves around each other tighter, placing their heads on each other’s’ shoulders. Their conjoined light blossomed, and Bunsen slammed the button down, a grimace on his face and small beads in his eyes. A light and deafening ringing enveloped everything, and Bunsen was engulfed by it.

Sparks rained into Bunsen’s vision as his eyes readjusted. He had been tossed to the floor he realized, but not far from where he had been standing. He looked to his left as he slowly, painfully stood up. The Arcanium power bank had been melted to slag, the orangish metal plates sluggishly dripping to the wooden floorboards, burning right through them. The sparks were coming from the now demolished transformer, its coils damaged in the magical surge.

Using the console for support, he looked over it to see Punnett and Bolera lying there. Silently he cantered down to them. There were no wounds on their bodies, but they weren’t moving. They must have fallen as soon as the spell was complete, landing face to face, only a few inches apart. He checked Punnett first since he was closest, turning him over. His labcoat was in tatters, but there was a blissful smile on his face. His eyes were closed.

Bunsen checked his pulse. Nothing. He was gone.

He moved to Bolera. As he came around to her she took in a small breath and reached up to him. “Protect the love of my life,” she declared softly before slowly reclining back down. With her last breath she whispered, “Protect Mi Amore Cadenza.” She was gone then.

Bunsen gently put a hoof over her eyes, closing them. He wanted to cry. He wanted to weep for them then and there, but he felt as if something was physically keeping him from doing that. His feelings passed rapidly as they were drained from his consciousness and sealed away, locked behind a thick glass shell.

Then he heard something he had not expected. The last words were repeated back to him, but in a different voice, one which he didn’t recognize, “Protect the love of my life: Protect Mi Amore Cadenza.”

Bunsen’s eyes widened. He turned toward the transmutation chamber.

The door and a great portion of the front had been melted away, almost as if it had been dumped in acid. The interior was dark, but he could make out a shape inside.

“Impossible,” he whispered.

“Protect the love of my life: Protect Mi Amore Cadenza,” the voice repeated.

Bunsen stepped into the chamber, his eyes adjusting to the dimmed light, and was struck with awe.

It was not a pink filly that lay inside the chamber, but a full grown mare. She was sprawled on her side, her wings clasped to her barrel. Her legs began to shiver and she drew them close to herself. Her head bowed towards the light. She was in a cold sweat; feverish from the look of it, but more importantly there was a horn on her head. The operation seemed to be a success.

The groaning of the rafters and the crackling of the flames thrust him out of his dumbfounded stupor. He reached down, mustering his earth pony strength, and placed her on his back with a grunt. The house would soon be engulfed in flames. He stopped himself from leaving straight away: there was something he had to retrieve.

Cadence had quieted for the moment, but Bunsen could tell her fever was getting worse, and the fire wasn’t helping either. He kicked open Punnett’s study, and almost instantly found his little grey notebook. It wasn’t long after that he found the other book: Starswirl’s Journal. Putting the translation in his coat pocket, he had nowhere else to put the journal but in his mouth, and quickly trotted his way out of the burning home, leaving an entire life behind.

As soon as he was clear of the flames, now with cold rain pattering down on them, he began to check on his goddaughter, “Cadence, speak to me! Are you alright?”

Her eyes fluttered for a moment as she looked at him, then she closed them and lay her head back on the ground, “Who are you?”

Bunsen stopped. Perhaps it was the stress of the experience; perhaps it was the fever talking. Given the transmutation she’d just undergone, it could be her memories were jumbled or erased altogether.

He quickly thought over what he should do, before he sighed. This tragedy wasn’t worth a little filly’s spirit breaking, especially not hers. She needed somepony who could build her up and provide for her. He hated to admit it, but there was only one mare he could think of that could do the job.

“I’m just a firepony,” he lied, before he reached into his coat pocket and drew out a teleportation beacon, “Hold on tight. I’m getting you to someone who can help.”

He slipped the beacon around his neck and put a foreleg over her to draw her closer to inside the transmitter’s field. He snatched up Starswirl’s Journal in his mouth again and tapped the beacon with his hoof, and it glowed as it activated. With a bright flash and pop the both of them were whisked miles away in an instant. They now stood under the canopy of the private doorway into Canterlot Castle. He approached the doorway, Cadence’s foreleg now over his shoulder to support her, and opened it, ushering her inside.

Chapter 16

A gorgeous morning’s sunlight seemed so out of place rising above a now tragic homestead. The Square household, destroyed beyond any hope of repair, lay desolate in the otherwise verdant Canterlot Valley. The authorities speculated the fire had been started as a result of a lightning strike, but the bizarre equipment, what little that survived, offered mysteries that they couldn’t explain. The majority of the blaze seemed to have been contained to the north side of the house, but the south had minimal damage, mostly smoke related.

A shadowy figure, his face hidden by his hat and upturned collar, entered through what remained of the front foyer. Burnt wood cracked under his hoof; most likely what remained of the roof’s structure, as the only ceiling this part of the home had now was blue skies. Turning to his left he headed down the hallway, the crisp, browned wallpaper crinkling as the air passed it by. He moved as unobtrusively as a shade, seemingly knowing where he was going, and what he was looking for. He gently swung the master bedroom door open and headed straight for the jewel box. Pushing the small brass latch up, he lifted the lid clear to display the contents within. The most prominent piece there, and all he cared about, was a simple but elegant necklace. It was made of a sterling silver chain that terminated in a beautiful ruby that shone with a brilliant light. She would want her to have this he was certain. He delicately reached into the box, and slid the piece into his inner coat pocket.

The sound of rustling wallpaper diverted his attention back to the doorway. He did not turn or acknowledge his discoverer, but merely froze in place.

“Robbin’ the livin’s big enough moral conundrum all on et’s own,” the unicorn officer said as he fully stepped into the room, lowering his horn should the intruder make a move, “But robbin’ the not even cold dead? That’s et’s own level o’ wrong.”

Certain in making no sudden movements, the stallion replied, “I’m not a thief. I’m just enacting what the deceased would have wanted.”

“Oh pardon mah intrusion then,” the officer replied sarcastically, “I didn’t recognize you, Mr. Executor. P’rhaps if you’d shown yer face I would have opened our dialogue in a more friendly tone.”

“Whether you believe it or not, and despite what it may seem, I’m only acting with the best of intentions.”

“Are you now,” the officer retorted, “Because as I recall the road to Tartarus es paved with good intentions by the thousands. Move away from the box, now.”

The stallion reached inside his coat, his hoof hovering over his teleportation beacon, “As you wish. I will move.”

He lightly pressed the beacon’s face, and its light flared to life. Surprised, the officer let loose a limb tangling hex where the stallion had been on reflex, but he was far too late. His quarry had vanished into thin air.

Several miles away, deep within the Royal Science Division facility, Bunsen Burner appeared in front of his desk, his hat ruffled out of place by the transport. Checking his pocket for his precious cargo, he slowly walked back around to his desk; it was safe and sound. There wouldn’t be a chance to go back to the property now, but this was the only sentimental artifact he felt obligated to salvage. What he was most concerned about was the surviving tech on site. The police and fire forensics crew wouldn’t make heads or tails of it hopefully, but if they had somepony bright brought in, or if one of their own was smarter than they looked, there could be a chance, albeit a slim one, that they could comprehend what had taken place there. The only way it could be worse was if they managed to reverse-engineer the transmutation process. While Punnett had pursued the process in a spirit of sacrifice and altruism, the only ones interested in recreating themselves as alicorns would be those who were the least worthy to receive such a transformation. Imagining another alicorn appearing, with their power and potential to wreak havoc, Bunsen shuddered.

“This can’t be allowed,” he murmured to himself. Gently he placed Bolera’s necklace into his desk drawer, the same one he had placed Punnett’s notes, and then closed it shut, locking it. He threw his coat and hat over his chair and strode out of his office, ready to offer his superior an unexpected visit.

“Do you ever sleep?” Was all Principled Acumen asked as Bunsen entered her office.

“Not much anymore,” he replied, “I generally doze for three hours every twelve at most. Mind’s too busy to sleep.”

“I’m starting to fear you might be too fit for this job once I leave,” she replied dryly as she finished the document before her, then turned her full attention to her subordinate, “How can I help you?”

“I believe Punnett Square is attempting to acquire RSD resources. He tried to solicit my help in acquiring Arcanium.”

The Director’s brow furrowed, “Hm, odd. He made it quite clear he meant to sever all ties with us when he terminated. He contacted you?”

“We’ve continued correspondence over the past few months, but lately I feel he’s been pressuring me for help in getting some from Materials for him. I refused, but I feel he could reach out to someone else.”

“I’ll make certain to look into this matter,” she said with a nod, then leaned back in her chair, “Thank you for coming to me with this information, Bunsen. I know it must be hard for you to see this sort of behavior from your friend.”

“He was my friend, Madam Director,” he replied as he turned to leave the office, adding more to himself than to her, “He’s not anymore.”

Over the next few days the news came in that Punnett Square was dead: he and his wife and child had been caught in a blaze in their home. Given the unusual requests and circumstances surrounding the deaths and fire, Bunsen recommended and was granted the right to oversee the seizure of the Square estate for its technology and research. Given his connection with the now labeled ‘renegade scientist’, some thought that the investigation would not be impartial. Director Acumen disagreed; Bunsen’s desire to see his friend as innocent until proven guilty, and his own desire to understand why his friend had changed, would be how impartiality would win out.

The ruse had worked it seemed; the components to produce the alicorn process were now under one roof, his roof, and they could be kept away from prying eyes until he could take care of them.

During his time cataloging the apparati that he and Punnett had designed he began to read the book his friend had written in. While he had left Starswirl’s Journal with Celestia, the translation, as well as the transmutation theorem, was still present in the book Bunsen now held. As he flipped through the pages, absorbing their insight night after night, a temptation slowly began to creep into his mind. While the general public could not be trusted with this knowledge, and neither could many private individuals, this was proof of a biological revolution. While others may not know the truth, they would certainly observe that there was one more alicorn than there had been in recent memory, and it would pique their curiosity. It was no longer a matter of if another transmutation would occur, but when. Other scientists would strive to find the secret; it was only now that Bunsen realized in full he had only delayed this event, not prevented it. He grunted in frustration as he gently placed the grey notebook down and then leaned back in his chair.

Perhaps he needed to fight fire with fire he began to think to himself: if he perfected the process he could ascend and ensure nopony else would be able to use it for unscrupulous ends.

A contrarian voice spoke into his mind, whose influence he was unconscious of, Power is like a raging inferno: it either causes those who resist it to shine bright, or it consumes and destroys those who submit to its allure. Do you have the restraint necessary to use this power, instead of letting it use you?

He wanted to argue with it, claim defiantly that he did, but eventually he sighed. He would become in reality what he feared theoretically if he used the process: a rogue element answering to nopony but himself. With great power, and that attitude, he would not be serving anyone at all but his own desires. For all his recent thoughts of his old teacher, he now realized that he respected her still in some fashion; having this same sort of temptation, she had had wisdom and restraint for hundreds of years. Almost too much restraint he thought to himself, but he now realized what she had meant in that letter to him and Punnett all those years ago: even if she reacted to the world at a glacial pace, glaciers still changed the world around them, sometimes with titanic consequences.

As he stewed on the dilemma of what to do instead of his initial thought, an intense image burst into his mind without warning. A winged and horned abomination, covered in black chitin, its body wreathed in flame.

“There are more of us,” it murmured softly, its voiced parched from the heat, “and we are coming.”

The image slipped away, leaving just as quickly as it had struck through his mental defenses. A thin, icy trail of fear surged into his heart, and his breathing unconsciously quickened. He then thought a moment on what he was about to do, then slipped Punnett’s book into his labcoat, leaving his office.

While the RSD was already full of secrets not yet meant for the eyes of the world at large, there were still some things not even the majority of the staff were allowed to know about. Entering the main elevator, the doors closing in front of him, Bunsen took out a special key from his right coat pocket and slid it into a special lock on the console. Once he had turned it the elevator lurched to life, going even further down into the mountain. In the deepest stratum of the old mines lay the last floor of the RSD. It was kept off any government documentation and classified as Above Top Secret. If it had an official name he didn’t know yet, but the Director called it the Black Vault. The elevator came to a stop, and the doors slowly opened.

To the left was a small office; yellow light spilling out of the doorway. Everything beyond that, hundreds of feet to the back wall, was display case after display case, each illuminated by iridescent halogen bulbs. Some cases were small, some large. Some had boundary lines that were never meant to be crossed without protective gear.

“It’s been a while since anyone’s come down from the surface,” the caretaker of the Vault declared from his office with the slight twinge of a Stalliongrad accent, “How are you Bunsen?”

Bunsen’s ears drew back towards his head, “How did you know it was me, Chekov?”

A Diamond Dog propelled himself through the doorway, using his larger forelimbs to move his wheelchair forward, and as he turned himself to face the stallion he tapped his snout, “It always knows.” He put his paws together softly, “What can I do for you today?”

Bunsen looked past the curator to the many rows beyond, “I’m looking for the Bug.”

Chekov rested his chin in his paw momentarily as he thought through his mental catalog, then snapped his nails together, “Section 2, Row 5, Lot 17. Come; I’ll show you too her.”

As they walked through Section 1, “Non-Living Dormant”, Bunsen idly glanced from object to object. Chekov was a genius who dedicated his life to understanding the unexplainable. In much the same way his fellows craved gems and capital, he was forever seeking the boundaries of fringe science. They passed a small glass case, within which was a dark colored amulet held aloft on a stand. Its front was a metalwork piece in the shape of a unicorn’s head and flaired wings. Chekov had been searching for the means by which it amplified a unicorn’s powers, but answers remained elusive.

As they were about to pass into Section 2, “Dead”, Bunsen glanced at a large metallic thing. Held up by support scaffolding, it was in the shape of an alicorn. Its right wing was completely severed from its joint, held near to it by cables. Its left foreleg was also separated from its body, but it rested right next to where its proper position was. The right side of its face was crushed inward. Now that he thought about it, it actually looked more like it had imploded somehow. The rest of it was covered in scratches, while a few pitted areas in its armor were spread throughout its structure.

“You like,” Chekov asked as he wheeled past, “That metal hulk is the source of Arcanium. It took the Director years to get the right metallurgical process to derive that precious alloy from its circuits.”

Bunsen’s gaze lingered on it slightly longer before he walked away. For some reason he couldn’t understand it seemed almost familiar to him, even though he’d never seen it before in his life. Whatever it was, it was probably best for everyone that it was dormant, that he was certain.

Finally they came to what they had been looking for. Suspended in a tank of sealed formaldehyde was the corpse of the Changeling. Its physical structure was just as intact as it had been when it had first been submerged six years ago. It had no wings, no mane, or tail left; the flames had taken those. Its mouth was still opened in a silent scream.

“If you have any testing you wish to do on her, it must all take place down here: nothing leaves my box,” Chekov declared firmly before he turned himself around and rolled away.

“Of course,” Bunsen replied as he stared into the twin abysses that were the empty eye sockets of the monster he had killed. In that moment an idea came to him of why he had subconsciously been led down here. His mind turned down a darker path than one he had ever tread before, and he came to one simple, almost childishly simple, solution: one fights fire with water.

The years passed, and Bunsen began to spend many hours in the chem labs of the RSD. After Principled Acumen stepped down, the position of Director was passed on to him. New duties had to be considered now that he sat in the top office. Budgets, recruitment, collaborative deals invaded his life, and he took them head on, never losing steam. He had been groomed for this position, and he excelled. He kept in contact with those surrounding Cadence, seeing to it that she was doing well, and found that as the years went by she grew to become a caring, strong, intelligent mare, just like her parents would have wanted. When she was first introduced to the world, Celestia was specific to say to all who asked that she was her niece, and that she would be taught the ways and practice of an Equestrian Princess. Though she already had a student in Fancy Pants, his education was more open ended than Cadence’s was. Though they only met once every month, she was being taught the way of politics, diplomacy, and ethics by the brightest teachers in Canterlot. This is what his contacts told him at least; he intentionally limited contact with her, which frankly wasn’t all that hard to do. His work never stopped.

A strange turn of events took place on the eve of the Summer Sun Festival in 990. Celebrations were being held; dancing and music made the Canterlot Gardens teem with joy and hope. As a Prince, Bunsen’s attendance was mandatory for keeping up appearances, but he didn’t hold the same spirit that others at the party did. He leaned against one of the stone pillars that created the archways back into the castle from a small patio area which led into the gardens. He stood alone; he certainly could have mingled, but he chose his own company over that of others this time. His eyes scanned the crowd, analyzing the groups of ponies, griffons, and other races, breaking them down into the groups they unconsciously made with each other. He scrutinized their similarities, what might possibly be tying them together in that moment of time, then watched them divide and recombine into other groups. They were an organism, though they may not have realized that was the case from the inside.

He would have thought further on this train of thought, but then his eyes fell on Cadence. She was talking with ponies nearly twice her age, but since she had a body aged similarly to their own they accepted her. Even so, their attitudes seemed to be a shared sense of marvel at what she was discussing with them.

“She’s turned into a beautiful young mare,” he heard a familiar voice say right next to him.

Though mildly surprised at the Princess’ sudden appearance, he didn’t allow it to show in his face.

He glanced at her momentarily before replying, “Yes, she has.”

“Won’t you ever go to her, reintroduce yourself,” she asked as she turned her head down to look at him.

He shook his head without blinking, “It would bring more harm than good.”

“There’s a young colt she’s grown quite fond of,” she said offhandedly, “A trainee in the Royal Guard. She babysits his little sister.”

Bunsen processed the information in silence as he took a small sip of the drink in his right hoof. They shared a moment in silent reflection: former teacher and former student; estranged to each other, almost miles away in their separation. He wasn’t sure why she still bothered trying to reach out to him. Guilt? Shame perhaps? It didn’t matter. He couldn’t care less.

“There’s something I must tell you,” she declared, before she turned back towards the castle interior, then looked to him, “It can’t be here. Please, Bunsen?”

Ah, business. Now things made sense.

He gave his drink to a nearby waiter, and followed after the Princess. She led him up into her Solarium. Its stained glass walls would normally allow for a joyous dance of colors throughout the day, and it was one of the few rooms within the castle for the Princess’ exclusive use. When she had the time she came here to think; what little time allowed least ways. Under the moon’s light the colors in the solarium were muted into deeper, thicker hues. Light colors became dark, and dark colors were nigh opaque. After she had closed and locked the doors behind them, she cast a spell of silence on the room. To go to such precautions the situation had to be serious, he reasoned.

At last she turned to him, and shattered the silence with a single question, “What do you know of the Mare in the Moon?”

It took Bunsen a few moments to collect his thoughts before he spoke, looking up at the astral body as he did, “It’s believed to be the last remains of a demon of Tartarus, Nightmare Moon. Cast there onto its face for the rest of eternity, it was supposedly the sign by which you proved your divinity to the ancient Solarians.” Bunsen scoffed a little at that thought, “I’m more inclined to believe it was caused by some colossal meteor shower.”

The Princess looked up at the moon as well, a strange sort of sadness in her eyes he had never seen before, “The truth is very different from what you might expect.” She looked back to him again, “I have a sister.”

The earth pony began to choke a little on his own sense of smugness, then looked back at her in a confused and shocked expression, “What?”

“Almost one thousand years ago, my sister Luna, guardian of the moon, was overcome by grief and loneliness. No one admired her work or her nightly art, and on this day 990 years ago she gave into her hatred and pain.” The hurt expression she wore grew deeper before she looked to Bunsen, “She became Nightmare Moon.”

The stallion was dumbfounded by this new knowledge, as once again he had been caught off guard by a legend coming to life.

“I fought her,” the Princess continued, “I hurt her, and she hurt me. She wanted to drown the world in everlasting night, condemning all life to a cold, bitter death. Only through the intervention of the Elements of Harmony, the real Elements of Harmony, was she defeated.”

Bunsen recalled his history; initially called the Elements of Creation, the six crystal stones imbued the world with life, and were used to banish Nightmare Moon. They had been transported to Canterlot upon its completion and had been kept there for over 250 years, until they had disappeared, spirited away by unknown parties.

“When I bound her to the moon she made that shape, to remind me nightly how I had failed her,” she declared, “but she also promised that she would return, that in the next millennium an astral alignment would empower her once again, and that the stars would enable her escape.”

“And the thousand years are almost up,” Bunsen replied quietly.

She reached out to him, placing her hooves on his shoulders, and locked eyes with him. There was a slight shaking in her reach, and then Bunsen realized just how great the gravity of the situation was; her hooves were shaking in fear.

“Bunsen,” she exclaimed gently, “I am so sorry for what I had to do to you, but I need your help for when the moment comes and Nightmare Moon returns. The Elements are the only thing that can stop her, but only the worthy can use their power.”

“Why can’t you just use their power again?”

“I bound them to be only used by six beings,” she gave a sad smile, “I’ve learned that power is best when it is equally shared, and each who uses it is equally accountable.”

Bunsen scoffed again before asking in exasperation, “Can’t you just lift that enchantment and use them by yourself for a short time?”

“Even I’m subject to the Law of Arcane Permanence,” she said with a sigh, “the Elements have been bound by that magic for nearly 700 years; it would take too much of me to try and undo the enchantment and fend off my sister.”

“What do you need me for then,” he asked in frustration, “I’m no unicorn, and I no longer have a friend in the world!”

The Princess winced, but she held his shoulders a little tighter, “You are my contingency.” She paused, trying to build up the strength to speak, before she began again, “My hope lies with Fancy Pants, or the student after him, that they can unlock the Elements’ power and defeat Nightmare Moon forever. If that does not happen, I cannot allow her to destroy this world. If there is no other option, I will take her somewhere where I can hold her forever.”

“But there is no such place,” he replied, “If the moon can’t hold her, and neither can here, what place can? Space is an empty region with nothing but rocks and ice.”

The Princess paused again.

Then she replied, “The heart of the sun.”

Bunsen’s eyes widened and his mouth began to unconsciously fall open.

The Princess barreled on before he could say anything more, “I’d ensure that this planet would continue, but there needs to be a strong leader for Equestria. You have the background knowledge to run the country’s sciences and military, but you could never be the face that ponies see on a day to day basis.”

Bunsen’s head was spinning, but the pieces were falling into place as to who that public face would be, “Cadence?”

“Yes. She is already respected by the Royal Family, and as the ponies of Equestria come to know her they will love her. You would rule together: her the Princess, and you the Lord Protector. Together you would both help bring stability and comfort out of the renewed apocalypse that could occur.”

She took her hooves off his shoulders, and she backed away a few paces, “I know this is a heavy burden, but I know it will not break you. You are strong, Bunsen. I know we can never repair our relationship, but I ask that you please understand; avoiding this doomsday scenario is everything. I’m sorry I brought you back, but I would do it ten times over if it would for certain save Equestria and the world.”

Bunsen remained silent for many long seconds as he struggled with all this new information. At last things began to make sense surrounding his teacher, and in other facets she remained absolutely inscrutable. She had a sister bent on destroying the world? Cadence and he would rule if she failed to stop her? She gave him his sanity back for this; to wake up to a world even madder then he? At the same time, though, he knew he was the perfect candidate for Lord Protector if this dark fate came to pass; he had the knowledge, but he could make the terrible choices. He could be reviled, and still do his job, all to make Cadence the purer. Now he saw. Now it made sense.

“I’ll do it,” he replied softly, before nodding softly, “If it comes to that, I will protect them.”

She then gently hugged him, but he did not return it.

“You cannot speak to anypony else of this,” she declared, “The panic it would create would be-“

“I understand,” he nodded.

He had thought of that conversation endlessly since then. The world hung by a thread. Time was running out. All the old myths of yore were real, and they were monstrous.

It was mere months later that he finally finished his work.

The centrifuge stopped. A single sample was held inside, which he gently grasped with his hooves. He brought it up to eye level. A sickly orange fluid full of froth met his gaze. Now came the final test.

He took the sample gently into his mouth and walked to the sample petri dish. Inside was the necrotized chitin of the Changeling Bruco. Once again he held the sample between his hooves, and he pulled the cork out with his teeth. Gently, he rotated the beaker over the sample until three drops came out.

The orange fluid hit the chitin. He quickly placed the sample under the microscope nearby and waited.

At first little happened, but as time wore on, the fluid absorbed into the bug flesh, sapping it of its leftover magic. The loss of magic caused the cellular walls to rupture and fall apart, causing them to disintegrate. After a few minutes there was nothing left of the sample; if he hadn’t known it before he would have said it was a brand new culture dish.

“Testing is finished,” he muttered to himself, “The Marigold Option is a success: destroys magic based life-forms without harming other organic elements.”

If only the Princess knew. She had assumed that there were only two options in the doomsday scenario: eternal night, or life without her. Now there was a third option: life without Nightmare Moon.

If anyone else knew, this discovery would be catastrophic. Some would call this tool unholy, a god killing weapon. He preferred to think of it as evening the playing field. Now he could defend Equestria from any threat; no bugs, no mad alicorn, nothing would stand against him from defending others. With this new compound, Equestria would always win. He synthesized a few more CCs of the Marigold Option, and then locked them away in the Chem Vault. No one else could be trusted with this. He would bury it, until it needed to be used, if ever. He hoped he’d never have to, but life had taught him much, and it never hurt to have a backup plan.

Chapter 17

It was the last week of February. Spring was fast approaching. A time of new life was almost upon the world. The sun had just left the horizon behind it, and was rising to its highest station in the sky. All was as it should be.

“You have changed,” Bunsen declared as he looked to the one who had been his student, and he shook his head with a muted smile, “There’s not a trace of the mare I met over three months ago.” Trixie smiled back but waited. He spoke further, “From an angry, lost, and broken soul: you have become something much greater than the sum of all that you once were.”

“It’s kind of funny,” she replied, “but somehow it doesn’t feel that way. I can’t explain it, but I’m not sure how much of me is different from who I had been.”

Bunsen looked away and nodded as he thought to himself, and then after a momentary pause turned. “Walk with me,” he declared as he exited their training hall. She was not far behind.

He opened the door to the basement lab, flipping the lights on as he did. The yellow lights flickered to life, and the old stallion began his descent. When the both of them had reached the basement floor Trixie finally spoke up, “Why are we down here?”

“When climbing mountains we focus on the path ahead, and the adversity it brings,” he replied as he approached his old teleporter, then began to check over it to make sure all its components and settings were in order, “It’s only once we look back at the path behind and below that we can recognize how far we’ve come.”

Trixie looked at him in confusion, “So, what, am I somehow going to confront my past self?”

“Yes and no,” Bunsen replied cryptically, as he picked up the control box to the teleporter, set a timer for a 30 second delay, then switched the array on. The Arcanium coils began to vibrate softly as they warmed up, and the machine began to build its charge to its active burst. The old stallion walked away from his device, leaving Trixie to look at it with some apprehension.

She then realized he was trotting back up the stairs, and she looked over her shoulder towards him, “Wait, where are you going?”

“You won’t need me for this,” was all he said.

“Is this a test?”

The old stallion stopped halfway up the stairs and looked back towards her, nodding a little as he said, “Yes.”

His brief announcements made, he ascended the stairs and closed the door behind him.

Trixie turned back towards the teleporter, unsure of what sort of test he meant for her, but with a quick glance she could see that whatever his trial was the device would activate in 15 seconds. A slight drip of fear trickled into her mind, and apprehension covered her like a fog, but she stood her ground. Her horn preemptively lit up with its magenta hues. Whatever it was she was meant to face she would beat it, that much she knew.

The final seconds counted down, and a light built up inside the array’s ribs: 3...2...1.

The light faded, and a small body fell out of the machine with a soft thump as it hit the array platform and rolled into the dirt.

“Where my coins at,” it grumbled as it sniffed the air around it, its eyes scrunched shut from the blinding burst of light it had been enveloped in, “I don’t smell-”

It paused, as it sniffed the air again.

Trixie’s eyes had grown wide when it had appeared; it was one of the three Diamond Dogs that had chased her all those months ago. There was a brief spike of fear, but it was quickly replaced by a boiling anger in her blood. They’d tried to take her. They’d wanted to enslave her.

“You,” he exclaimed as his nose confirmed the identity of the other person in the room, but he paused.

She was different. She wasn’t afraid like last time. That alone was enough to give the dog some sense of trepidation, but as he was now finally able to see her in full with the light fading, he saw just how different she was. She was more toned than before, and the way she stood was not the stance of a timid pony, but a fighter ready for battle. Of the two of them it was now he who was afraid.

Even in spite of that fear, his predatory instincts kicked in, and he attacked, rapidly closing the area between them.

Trixie’s magic flared. The earth just in front of the dog rose up in a steep incline, and he lost balance as he tripped, rolling over himself into a tangled mess that came to a stop right in front of her. She backed up a few paces, entered her combat stance on her two hind legs, and waited. Once the dog was able to stand, he lunged again, jumping into the air to pounce on her. She met his forepaws with her forehooves, and before he could snap his jaws at her, she conjured a muzzle from thin air around his mouth.

His attack thwarted, the dog was caught off balance, giving Trixie just enough time to fall backward, hooves still to paws. Using her magic to support herself in midair, she rolled the two of them over, all while still levitating the both of them, curled her back hooves up into the dog’s chest, and bucked as hard as she could. The little dog shot towards the basement wall as if he were fired out a cannon, and he impacted with such force that the wood paneling cracked and splintered behind him, leaving him to sit in a dog sized hole in the wall.

Placing herself down on her hooves, her back legs primed for another kick, Trixie waited for her opponent to get back up. The little dog stirred. After a few seconds of struggling, he managed to pull himself out his hole. Trixie was soon surprised to find that he was not attacking, but cowering against the wall, whimpering softly.

Alarmed by how the tables had turned, she approached the dog, but found that he now brought his forelegs up to wave her off, as if they would defend him from her and sweep her away, “No! Please! Mercy, mighty unicorn! Spare me, oh Great and Powerful Trixie!”

Trixie’s mind crashed into a screeching halt. That was how she had always wanted to be addressed before. The same level of adulation as what he was displaying, the sense of domination she had wanted it to bring, it had been all she had sought. Now, after these past few months, after all she had learned, to now see one of the ones who had wronged her begging as if for his life, now she saw who she was, and who she had been. She was now more powerful than she had ever been. The old her would have been elated to be in this position. She couldn’t feel anything but disgust for who she had been now. Even so, she actually felt a sense of pity for her would-be slaver, and that was something wholly unexpected.

Her breathing evened out as the anger slowly began to fade, replaced by that new feeling. She still had to put an end to this, though, once and for all.

“Listen,” she declared softly.

The dog’s eyes peaked through his paws, and he became still.

“I want you to never come back here,” she said firmly but quietly, “but I also demand you do one thing; don’t try to get rich off of others. Make something of yourself.”

“Yes,” the dog nodded rapidly, “Yes, I will!”

“Will you do as the Great and Powerful Trixie commands,” she asked, trying to force some sense of authority into her voice.

“I will,” the dog exclaimed, then put a claw to his heart, “On blood in my chest, I promise to work for self!”

“Good,” she replied quietly, then walked away from him towards the stairs, “Now begone.”

The dog quickly launched himself at the earth, scraping the dirt beneath him out and away as fast as he could. By the time Trixie was at the top of the stairs he was long gone.

She found Bunsen waiting for her once again in the battle hall, this time sitting in a chair, a book in his hooves. Upon seeing her he immediately set it to the side, and stared at her, scrutinizing her very deeply. After a few seconds he stood from his chair, and walked towards her.

“My words were not in vain,” he declared, seemingly to no one in particular.

“You wanted to see how I’d handle him,” she asked as she cocked her head.

“In the ethical sense, yes. Your combat skills were not among my doubts.”

She looked back towards the direction of the basement door, “Why did you leave then?”

Bunsen nodded his head slightly, “Consider it a double blind experiment: I put you in a situation you didn’t expect, and while I did not observe it directly, I can see you spared the dog.” He came closer and lightly tapped her chest, “The test wasn’t for my benefit; it was for yours. Only you know the exact details of what happened down there, and only you can truly know who you are when you are alone. You have doubly proven who you are today.”

Trixie considered what he said and how she had felt. The empathy that had replaced her anger...it was unlike anything she had felt before. It proved how much she had changed, and knowing that for sure was something truly incredible.

“I have no more lessons, no more tests, no more to teach,” he said at last, before reaching behind the seat he had been occupying, “I only have one last thing to give.”

Bringing forth his creation, he offered it out to Trixie, who hesitantly took it.

It was some sort of weapon, she could see that. It had a large crescent shaped protrusion on it, with a crystalline gem attached to the head where the crescent emerged from the rest of it. There seemed to be some sort of mechanism in its design, something that made it collapsible. With an intuitive touch, she brushed her hoof across a slim lever in the device. Suddenly it unfolded, swinging upward then open, locking into a position parallel with the rest of the device. A second mechanism then activated, and a third section extended outward, a weighted sphere on its end, providing ballast to the whole device. The mysterious gift was, she realized, some sort of collapsing staff, its shape complementing the design of her Cutie Mark very well.

“It’s incredible,” she exclaimed with a grin. She then brought her right hoof out and rested the staff on it; it sat in perfect balance on her foreleg. It was designed with the utmost precision and care.

Bunsen smiled a little, before he declared, “We’ll need to go outside for you to use it to its full capability.” He gestured back towards the direction of the front door, “Shall we?”

“It’s a battle staff, obviously: much like the ones we trained with for all those months. What makes yours special, though, is its internals.” Bunsen gestured to it, “Inside that weapon’s guts is an Arcanium transformer. By imbuing it with a spell, it will amplify your power and area of effect nearly five-fold.”

Trixie, with her white hat and cloak on, looked back over her shoulder where she kept her staff strapped, now realizing the full extent of the gift her former mentor had given her.

“Go on,” he exclaimed, “Give it a try!”

Trixie looked back to Bunsen, who gestured encouragingly to her again. She readied herself, centering her four legs, then took in a deep breath and closed her eyes. She exhaled.

Her eyes shot open, she reared up on her back legs, and she reached for her staff. Grasping it and triggering the lever, it opened wide and extended out as she brought it forward around her right side. As she brought it up into her combat stance it completed extending.

With a small amount of hesitance, she cast a spell. Her horn lit up, and its light snaked down into her staff. It gathered around the ballast end first, then rapidly wound its way up to the staff’s tip in a counterclockwise pattern. The magical power gathered in the crystal matrix at the staff’s tip.

“Hit the lever again to cast your spell,” Bunsen gestured towards the north and the mountains located there, “Aim for the top of the nearest peak.”

Choosing her target, Trixie aimed high, and pressed the lever again. The light dimmed for an instant, before it roared to life, erupting out of the crystal along a straight line delineated by the crescent shaped guide. The bright stream of magenta light burst upward towards the nearest mountain’s summit, its wide beam grazing it. The concussion spell had blasted a visible amount of ice off the peak, but the disturbance was also enough to move the snowpack below that which had been removed. In just a few seconds the mountain rumbled, and many tons of snow began to cascade down. The impressive display was over in under a minute: the two ponies were now greeted with the earthen face of a bare peek, its’ snow removed by a gigantic avalanche.

Trixie looked down at the device in her hooves and realized what power it held, then quickly looked to Bunsen, “This is...do you really think I deserve this?”

He shook his head, “Deserve? No, but you’ve proven to me and I should hope to yourself that you have both the ability to use it, and the restraint necessary for its use.”

She looked back down at the staff, and then twirled it, pointing it to her right, then her left. Finally she collapsed it back onto itself, and stored it on her back.

Within the hour the showmare had packed for herself some provisions, and was ready to set out for Vanhoover.

“It’s time I went back home,” she declared, “I want to see my family for a little bit. From there I expect I’ll move on and help where I can...”

“How do you mean,” Bunsen asked.

She looked at him with a growing smile, “I want to be able to help others like you’ve helped me. Perhaps being a wandering helper is what will suit me. Plus it will give me a chance to learn and practice my magic more, as I can use my old show techniques to create something new!”

The old pony smiled, “Well I wish you the best of luck with your dream.”

The young mare abruptly reached for the old stallion and hugged him, surprising him a little.

“Thank you so much for everything,” she said quietly, “You believed in me even when I didn’t. You made me realize I could struggle for and expect more of myself.”

Stiffly, hesitantly, he put his right hoof around her. “It’s what you needed,” was all he said.

“Please take your own advice.”

Perplexed, Bunsen looked towards her head, “What are you talking about?”

“You act like it’s your destiny to be stuck here forever because you can’t go back to Canterlot,” she explained, “But you don’t need to be there to make a difference in ponies’ lives.” She leaned out of the hug and stepped away, “If even a broken pony like me can be fixed, then I have a feeling that you can be too.”

The earth pony’s gaze was fixed on something neither of them could see as he thought on her words. His eyes drifted to the left, but he didn’t say anything in response. After a pregnant silence, all he said was, “You’d better get going: you still want to be able to reach Vanhoover by dark.”

Trixie looked at him, a sad kind of smile on her face. “You didn’t stop believing in me,” she declared, “So I won’t stop believing in you either. You’ll keep in touch with me, right?”

“Of course,” he replied in a stilted manner, “You know my number, and you know where to find me.”

They exchanged soft goodbyes shortly after, and Trixie began her trek away from the manor. Bunsen watched her go for the first mile or so, before he retreated back inside. As the front door slammed shut, he realized now more than ever just how dead the gigantic house seemed. Once again he was adrift.

What was he to do now? Wait for the next mare or stallion to stumble onto his doorstep? Hardly likely.

He realized just how much he already missed the company of another pony, of Trixie’s company. What she had said though...could he really be fixed?

Without expecting it, she had touched him in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time; not since Punnett, Bolera, or Lily. Quite unwittingly, he had become her friend, and she his. It wasn’t too long ago that he had scoffed about the ideas he had been taught, and their futility. He thought the ideas the Princess had taught him had failed him, but now in one of his lowest points here it was again.

“Hmm,” he exhaled as he thought to himself. Just as Trixie had changed, a small part of him had too. He thought back to the day they had met and how he had been in the time before then.

“Listless,” he surmised of both his past and present, “Purposeless.” He nodded to himself, but then looked up at the hallway in front of him, “but not useless.”

Though he wouldn’t have guessed it, his Cutie Mark shone a little brighter, and his coat color was a little fuller. He wasn’t a dead pony walking or a shade; not anymore. Now, he realized, he was just asleep, waiting to be awoken. He ventured back to his study, where he would hold his vigil. There, he waited. He waited for when he was needed. He waited to wake up.