My Little Praetor: Phthisis is Magic

Chapters

Instill Infection
Early Onset
Incubation
Visible Symptoms
Immune Response
Home Remedies
Interlude: Praetor Bebop at His Computer
Nostrums and Unguents
...And Call Me In the Morning
House Call
Specialist Consultation
Second Opinion
Aggressive Regimen
Biopsy Punch
Introduction: Seeker Found

Instill Infection

A council of the praetors of New Phyrexia was always a tense time. Put the five most powerful beings in the world, united in theory but divided in purpose, and stick them all in the same room, and egos are bound to clash. Especially if the five are siblings. Even more especially if the one who requested the council is late.

"WHERE IS HE!?" bellowed Vorinclex. The bellow wasn't very indicative of his anger, of course. Twice the height of a human, hulking with muscle and mandibles, the Voice of Hunger wasn't physically capable of speaking in lowercase. And that was just the way he liked it.

"Patience, Brother," counseled Elesh Norn, "he will come." The Grand Cenobite was one of the more attractive praetors, though this was still a highly relative description. Of course, if the beholder didn't mind razor-sharp claws and porcelain-like armor plating instead of skin, she was rather becoming, in a "'Bad Romance' Lady Gaga meets Lord Zedd" kind of way.

"If he isn't here soon, I'm leaving," grumbled Urabrask. "Some of us actually have work to do." His vaguely saurian form rippled with heat and impatience.

"Yes," noted Sheoldred, "you've got pet refugees to look after, after all." From the waist up, she was the mirror image of her sister, black corrosion to Norn's ivory pseudoceramic. From the waist down, she was a hulking quadruped with a secondary mouth that could swallow a man whole.

"What I do or do not do to further the Great Work is no concern of yours," Urabrask snarled.

"YOU DISGUST ME," boomed Vorinclex. "ALL THE HEAT IN YOUR PRECIOUS FURNACE HAS MADE YOU SOFT."

A fifth voice made itself known. "And we wonder why he doesn't attend councils more often." It was rich with the frustrated amusement of someone long accustomed to being the smartest person in the room. Its owner strode into view, a gangly, hunchbacked figure all in spikes and chrome, Jack Frost as designed by H. R. Giger and Cadillac.

"WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG!?"

Jin-Gitaxias essayed a shallow bow. "My apologies, esteemed siblings. Certain critical experiments took longer than I had anticipated."

"And what isn't a critical experiment with you?" sneered Sheoldred.

The Core Augur ignored this. "In any case, I have excellent news." He held up a spindly hand. "Don't bother guessing. Between the four of you, you've got about a one in seventy-two thousand chance of getting it right."

Urabrask sighed, a few flames licking out of his occipital exhaust vents. "So you don't have a more reasonable chromium requisition."

"Nothing so mundane. My fellow praetors, I am pleased to announce the first successful practical trial of the interplanar portal project."

"TELL ME," shouted Vorinclex, "HOW MUCH TIME DOES ONE OF YOUR TRINKETS HAVE TO TAKE BEFORE IT EXPLODES TO COUNT AS SUCCESSFUL?"

"It didn't explode," Jin replied, exasperated. "That's why it was successful. Lummox."

Elesh Norn interceded. "To what world are we to spread the Glorious Word?

"If you've been following my studies via photonic probe and the tumblrskite, you'll be familiar with the plane in question."

There was a pause as his siblings considered half-remembered, seemingly inconsequential rants. Then there came a chorus of groans. Vorinclex spoke for them all: "NOT THE DAMNED PONIES!"

Gitaxias defended his position, reciting rationales he'd long repeated. "The world is poorly defended, rich in magic and materials, has an easily manipulated ecology; in short, a perfect first plane beyond our own to compleat."

"IT'S NOTHING BUT PONIES!" pressed the Voice of Hunger. "DOCILE GRAZERS! BARELY WORTHY OF BEING EATEN!"

"It also contains manticores, griffins, hydrae—"

"There is no industry, little metal," Urabrask said dismissively. "Why bother?"

"There is still great mineral and biological wealth to process—"

"It's an insult to all we've worked for!" cried Sheoldred. "It is beneath us, an afterthought!"

"An afterthought that will give us a foothold in the greater Multiverse..." Jin waited expectantly, surprised when his fourth sibling didn't interrupt. He turned to her. "Well, Elesh? Aren't you going to raise some objection that I've addressed in the past?"

She pursed her flayer husks, deep in thought. "Tell me again, Brother: What is the nature of these ponies' spiritual lives?"

If the Core Augur had eyes, he would've blinked in surprise. "Rather similar to those of your drones. They serve and revere a central figure whose will is law."

The Grand Cenobite nodded. "And that will would be?"

"To summarize it as much as possible: Be nice."

Norn's lips pursed in distaste. "'Be weak,' you mean. 'Be willfully flawed.' 'Be constrained and separated by the tyranny of skin.' We must bring them the Argent Etchings. The sooner the better."

Vorinclex buried his face in his primary hands. "REALLY, NORN? REALLY?"

"It's for their own good."

"OF COURSE IT IS."

Gitaxias had no lips, but he would've been smiling even if he did. "I don't really see why you all think this is up for debate."

Sheoldred frowned. "Surely you didn't expect us to just go along with this fool's errand?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps you would, perhaps you would not. Either way, I have already begun the invasion."

Urabrask perked up at this. "Explain."

"Gladly. It was why I was late. You see..."

Ditzy smiled as she closed the mailbox. She hadn't been making the rounds lately, not after the big restructuring of the post office. As Luna had promised, a week after the elementals had been brought up and put down, Ditzy had found herself in charge of five postponies, a mail wagon, and even a small dragonflame brazier that acted as a direct line to the younger princess.

This was all well and good, but one of the pegasus's subordinates, one Hornrims Bottlebottom, was clearly a castoff from his old town. Oh, he was a nice old pony, but his sight was so bad that he couldn't tell a mailbox from a lawn flamingo. Ditzy had assigned him the sparsest route, reasoning that if she had to use him (and she did, according to union rules,) she might as well minimize the damage.

Of course, that had been before the "New Fluttershy" incident. After that, Mr. Bottlebottom had been given a much-deserved vacation and Ditzy handled the Kindness Bearer's mail personally, despite the butter-coated mare's protests and apologies.

"Your mail's got to get here somehow," the blonde had reasoned, "and I've been getting sick of administrative work anyway."

"I just didn't want Mr. Bottlebottom to feel bad after the horrible way I treated him."

"Are you kidding? Hornrims feels worse about bringing you the wrong mail. It finally convinced him to get a stronger perscription. I was about to resort to mind control."

Fluttershy pouted. "Oh, Ditzy, you really shouldn't, especially not in your condition.""

"I was just jo... What condition?"

"You didn't know?"

"Didn't know what?"

"Well, with Address back, I'm sure you and he..." The gentle pegasus blushed.

Ditzy followed suit. "Th-that's kind of personal..." It clicked. "You mean..?"

Fluttershy beamed. "I'm sure Dinky will be thrilled to know that she's going to have a little brother or sister."

"But I just... We only just... How can you know already?"

The pink-maned mare's smile lessened, but she was clearly pleased with herself. "When you spend enough time with mice and squirrels and bunnies, you learn how to recognize the signs in any creature, ponies included."

"...huh."

"Um, you aren't upset, are you?"

The grey mare shook her head. "No, no," she answered absently. "It's great. Fantastic, even. Have a nice day." She wandered off in a daze.

A quick look at her body's mana circulation confirmed it. Ditzy was pregnant. Had been for almost a month now. How about that. At some point, she wandered into the park and half-collapsed into a sitting position. Her mind raced, but exactly what she was thinking, she couldn't say.

As the pegasus contemplated her navel and the growing life beneath it, there was a sound like screaming metal, crunching rock, and the chainsaw of the titans. A ragged, roughly circular hole appeared in the air. Naturally, everypony who wasn't deep in thought went running. Something that clearly wasn't a pony peeked out from the other side.

The flagrantly nonpony creature considered the view for a moment. Though hunched over, it still easily towered over the average Equestrian. It was very roughly humanoid, in the sense of having two arms, two legs, and a head. However, these were all elongated, spiked, and chrome-plated. It had no lips, but gave an impression of smiling beyond that of the average skull. In a voice like honeyed razors, it crowed, "We're in!"

It noted Ditzy, still lost in her ruminations. "Excuse me?"

"Uh huh?" came the distant reply.

"Is this Equestria?"

"Yup."

"Excellent. Thank you, miss."

"Sure thing."

The portal snapped shut with a world-shaking whipcrack. This was enough to disrupt Ditzy's revery. She shook her head. "Wait, what?"

"DITZY!"

"Ahh!" The pegasus launched herself several yards into the air before looking back down. "Pinkie Pie?"

The party pony was uncharacteristically panicked. "I came as fast as I could! I was in the Sugarcube Corner making almond horns when my knee started pinching pinchier than it's ever been pinched and I knew the scariest thing ever was gonna happen!" She looked around frantically. "But now it's not pinchy anymore, but I can't tell what happened, and that's even scarier because I don't know why it was so scary! What happened?"

"Um..." Ditzy gave a nervous chuckle. "I'm... not sure."

"Not sure? How couldn't you be sure? This had to be the scariest scare since Luna's first Nightmare Night!"

"I was kind of preoccupied..."

"With what?"

"I just found out that I'm going to have another foal."

Pinkie's face became a riot of twitching regions, the struggle between joy and panic playing out before the grey mare's eyes. Finally, the earth pony took a deep breath and composed herself. "What do you remember?"

The pegasus landed and wingshrugged. "Somepony... no, someone asking if this was Equestria."

"Hmm..." Pinkie examined the area, then turned back to her fellow planeswalker. "You're the one with MacGuffin eyes. What do you see?"

"MacGuff— never mind." Ditzy focused on where she recalled the question. She moved next to it and pointed at the site. "Right here, there's something like a bruise or a scar. It's blue. I think I can follow it."

The party pony shook her head until her eyes spun. "No no no no no. Bad idea. No going into Creepytown: The Plane. Especially not when you've got a passenger."

Ditzy winced. "Of course." There was no telling what effects the Bastard Plane would have on her child, and she had no intention of finding out. "So what do we do?"

"Hmm..." Pinkie tapped a hoof against her chin. "I think I have an idea. Where did you say the rift was again?"

The blonde stuck a hoof into the seemingly wounded area. "Right here."

The bubblegum-coated mare cracked her neck and gave a rather worrisome grin. "Okie dokie lokie." She reared up and planted her forehooves on the "bruise." Impossibly, it supported her weight. The extremities began to glow red and the mare drove them into the middle of the disturbance. Muscles and veins bulged as, with earth pony strength and space-warping magic, she slowly split the rift. With a final grunt, Pinkie went back to all fours, the portal reopened.

On the other side, panicked chittering and howling klaxons indicated that the intrusion had been noticed. Grotesque beings of polished metal and pallid flesh peered back at the pink pony standing halfway in their world.

The syrupy, barbed voice made itself known again. "Will you calm down, you fools? What is it now?" It noticed the gateway. "Oh. Well, that was unexpected." It had no eyes, but Pinkie could somehow tell when its attention shifted back to her. "Ah," mused the monstrosity, "Pinkie Pie. That explains a great deal."

"Is there anything in the Multiverse you haven't met?" cried Ditzy.

The earth mare shook her head as she backed back into Equestria. "Whoever this is, I've never met him before."

"That's a him!?"

The chromed creature nodded. "Indeed. This is our first meeting. And, insofar as your understanding of gender applies to me, yes, I do identify as male." It moved closer to the aperture, looking for the other speaker. Upon finding her, it nodded again. "Ah, Miss... your pardon, please. My sources have been inconclusive. Do you prefer Derpy Hooves or—"

"Ditzy Doo, thank you." Ire simmered in the pegasus's voice. How, how, how had that nickname crossed the planar barrier?

"Miss Doo, then. I suppose I should introduce myself next." The being bowed, an impressive feat for one already hunchbacked. "I am Jin-Gitaxias, Augur of the Core, Praetor of the Progress Engine, intellectual apex of New Phyrexia, and future sovereign of Equestria." His smile was as warm and welcoming as the middle of a compost heap. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"You introduced yourself?" Sheoldred couldn't believe her ears. "Well, I'm glad you seem to have such confidence in our success, Brother, because you just threw out any chance of infiltrating their plane unnoticed."

Gitaxias shook his head. "Do you really think so little of me, Sister? This has all been carefully planned."

The Whispering One was unconvinced. "Carefully planned to subvert our own success, maybe."

"The park ruse was a distraction. Even if the witnesses' peers believe their wild tales about metal creatures from beyond their meager imaginations, they will be expecting an invasion that will be similarly overt and grandiose."

"And instead?" asked Elesh Norn.

The Core Augur chuckled, a sound like bubbling sludge. "As I said, it has already begun. My dramatic appearance was not the first practically sized portal opened to Equestria, nor was I the first Phyrexian to witness our new conquest."

"Then who was?" Urabrask was trying to feign indifference and failing miserably.

The chromed horror looked over his shoulder. "That would be your cue."

A rhythmic sound answered him, a regular series of clanks like bone on metal. Its source came into view, a cobalt-blue unicorn stallion with silver mane and acid-green eyes. His cutie mark was a bubbling flask, and his demeanor was a blend of confidence and awe. He bowed before the assembled praetors. "My Aunts. My Uncles. It is an honor and a privilege."

Norn considered the pony. "And you would be?"

"Clinical Trial," responded Jin. "Only the best could be trusted with an infiltration mission of such importance. As such, I put one of my own larvae through a specialized hypertrophy cycle. Thus did I resurrect one of the most effective methods of Old Phyrexia: The sleeper agent. One of ours, undetectably disguised as one of theirs."

Vorinclex was unimpressed. "TELL ME WHY I SHOULD CARE. OR WHY I SHOULDN'T JUST DEVOUR THE WASTE OF FLESH HERE AND NOW."

"You are welcome to, my Uncle," said the kowtowing Trial. "My purpose is fulfilled, my existence surplus to requirement."

The Voice of Hunger considered this for all of a second. "WELL, YOU HEARD HIM!" One of his primary arms lunged for the stallion.

Urabrask caught it before his "nephew" was within reach. "Hold it. What do you mean, 'your purpose is fulfilled'?"

"Just that, my Uncle. I have proven the success of my Father's portal technology. I have begun the phyresis of Equestria. I have dismantled the mightiest weapon in their meager arsenal. There is nothing more for me to do to serve the Great Work."

"Tell us how, child," urged Elesh Norn.

"Yes," added Gitaxias, "report. You have undoubtedly gathered data whose value you do not yet realize."

Trial did not rise from his prone position. "As you wish, Great Ones."

Vorinclex gagged cacophonously. "HE IS ONE OF YOURS, GITAXIAS. ONLY YOU COULD MAKE SOMETHING SO DISGUSTINGLY SMARMY THAT IT COULD MAKE ME LOSE MY APPETITE."

"In any case," said the stallion, "I was first deployed some distance from Ponyville..."

The fields to the town's north were left fallow, a peaceful stretch of greenery that stretched out between the foothills of the Canterhorn and the Everfree Forest.

With a sound like a metallic phonebook getting torn in half, a hole was briefly gouged in this idyllic scene. Out of it dashed a pony, or at least a cunning approximation of one. Grime streaked his coat, especially on the legs. He used the tall grass to brush off the industrial gunk and nodded in approval as it seemed to soak into the vegetation. Every little bit would help, after all. Adjusting his saddlebags, he made for town, blades of grass already yellowing and wilting as he left.

Soon enough, he could see his destination, a large tree incongruously surrounded by primitive structures. These were inconsequential. It was the tree that mattered. More accurately, the tree's occupant. He knocked on the door with a forehoof.

"Hello?" A small reptillian creature answered. The dragon whelp. Not quite as immature as forecasted. That wasn't good. Every deviation from the primary source meant greater uncertainty, but if he could fulfill his primary mission, it wouldn't matter.

The sleeper pony realized he hadn't answered the hatchling's greeting. Right. Have to act the part. "Hello. Is Dr. Sparkle in?"

The whelp looked at him as if he were crazy. "'Doctor' Sparkle?"

"Doctor Sparkle!?" An equinoid rushed into view, mildly panicked. "Who called me a doctor? I don't have a doctorate! I don't even have a thesis topic! I'm still working on my Bachelor's of Harmonic Studies." She turned to her scaly minion. "Spike, you did make sure that was a thing a pony could get, right?"

"Yes," sighed the dragon, rolling his eyes.

"My mistake," demurred the stallion. "My name is Clinical Trial. May I come in?"

The mare's attention went to her guest. She paused for a moment, and he worried that there might have been some minor flaw in his disguise. Then she smiled and cleared the way. "Of course, of course! Welcome to the Books and Branches Library, Mr. Trial!" She paused again, pondering something. "You know, I think I know your aunt."

Inequine creatures garbed in white and black briefly flickered in the Phyrexian's mind. "I rather doubt that."

Twilight tilted her head. "No? Double-Blind Trial? She was my professor for Modern Spellcraft Techniques."

"No relation, I'm afraid." Trial looked around the room. It was admittedly rather respectable, considering the incompleat nature of the plane and society that built it. Plentiful knowledge, but with the invaluable mixed haphazardly with the inconsequential, and certain essentials left out entirely because of the arbitrary decrees of "morality."

"So..." The mare grinned at him, her tail accidentally brushing his left gaskin as she moved back in front of him. "What brings you here?"

Ah, yes. The cobalt-blue pony slipped something out of his saddlebags as he began the prepared story. "Well, I'm something of a researcher, you see. I discovered something unusual on my way into town." A vial of black, viscous fluid floated in a telekinetic field the same bilious green as his eyes.

Twilight's focus immediately shifted to the mysterious substance. "Huh. May I?" Trial nodded, and the aura around the glass went from green to magenta. The mare brought up to one eye, tilted it back and forth, and held it up to the light of one window. "Strange. It seems like some kind of petroleum product, but I'm getting some weird feedback just by holding it in my magic."

The stallion feigned surprise. "You noticed that too? I wasn't sure if it was just me or not."

She shook her head. "No, no, there's definitely some kind of... well, echo, for lack of a better term. Almost like the interference pattern caused by holding something living. Hmm..." Her eyes lit up with inspiration. "Spike, fetch me Slithering a Mile in Their Membranes."

As the dragon busied himself, Trial nudged the mare further in the right direction. "You think it's alive?"

"It's the only reason I can think of that could explain this interference pattern." The glow along the top of the vial intensified, and the stopper came out. "I'll admit this isn't very scientific, but..." With a few waves of a forehoof, Twilight wafted the aroma of the oil towards her muzzle. It immediately wrinkled in disgust. "Ugh! Phew, if that isn't alive, then something clearly died in there. You don't get that kind of smell without biology getting involved somehow."

To the sleeper agent, it smelled of home, but he put on a displeased face nonetheless. "Yeah, sorry. Should've warned you about that."

"Don't worry about it." The studious mare replaced the stopper and snorted, trying to purge her sinuses of the reek. "Though is there anything else you think you should share about this stuff?"

"Well, for the most part, the grass where I found it was yellowed and withering. However, a few blades looked closer to cornstalks than wild growth."

"Hmm. Interesting..." Twilight frowned and looked about for her assistant. "Spike, where's that book?"

The hatchling's voice echoed from another room. "Wherever it is, it's not in Travelogues, Academic Works, or Cryptozoological Studies! Did somepony check it out?"

The pony frowned further and floated the library ledger to herself. "Highly unlikely. Hardly anypony checks out nonfiction, especially not something like... oh." She groaned.

"What is it?" asked Trial.

"Ugh, that creepy radio host. I know the subtitle is The Amazing World of Oozes, Slimes, and Jellies, but it doesn't mean that kind of jelly!"

The stallion got the distinct hint that he was missing something, but dismissed it as unimportant. "Well, you could at least do some independent research, right?"

Twilight considered this. "That's true..."

"Hypothesize, experiment, analyze..."

She nodded, her attention beginning to drift. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds... nice."

"All for the sake of knowledge. Of seeking answers to the big questions, greater understanding of the world."

"Yeah."

"Clearing away ignorance and superstition, leaving nothing but the indisputable, beautiful truth!"

"Yeah!"

"Looking the world in the eye and telling it, 'You can't hide anything from me! I am a scientist, and it is my duty to take you apart and see how you tick!'"

"Yes! Yes!"

"Bringing enlightenment, reason, and perfection to..." Trial caught himself and coughed into a forehoof. "Um, pardon me, Miss Sparkle. I suppose I got a little caught up in the moment."

She blinked, breathing heavily, hairs splaying out of her main like broken springs. "Huh? Oh. Right. Caught up." She blushed and bit her lower lip, her eyes darting in seemingly random directions. "E...excuse me for a moment."

He shrugged. "Of course."

Twilight retreated to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Her blush was fully visible against her lavender coat, her mind awhirl with decidedly unscientific avenues of inquiry. She looked in the mirror, locking gazes with her reflection. "You're above this, Sparkle. You are a professional. He is a professional. You are having an adult, professional discussion. Like adults You both just got caught up in the thrill of discovery for a moment. So stop staring at those luscious flanks of his. You are not going to treat him like some sort of delicious, sexy science cake. Of science. And a rump you could bounce a bit off of." Her expression, which had been slowly going from determination to lust, abruptly switched to horror. "Oh Celestia, I just ended a sentence in a preposition."

There was a knock at the door. "Everything alright in there?"

"Just a second!" the mare answered frantically. She turned back to herself, her chastisement quieter. "Okay, so he's cute. He's smart. He thought you were a doctor. You've dealt with crushes on colts before. Like... like..." Twilight's ears drooped as she realized that her studies had left her as little time and interest in romance as in friendship. As for Ponyville, most eligible stallions already had a special somepony in the gender-imbalanced town. Even if there was a decent choice, she hadn't felt confident enough in her friendship studies to move to a more advanced subject.

There was only one logical conclusion: "I'm doomed."

"I distinctly heard something about doom," called Clinical Trial. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Fine. Just fine. Why wouldn't I be fine?" A high, nervous giggle forced itself out of the mare's throat until she clamped her mouth shut. "I'll be coming out now!"

Trial looked askance at her as she left the restroom, and even that was cute in that amazingly inquisitive way. "If you're sure..."

"So, um, if you aren't doing anything later..." Twilight's eyes widened in horror. Her mouth was rebelling! She hadn't told it to say that! This was anatomical insurrection of the highest order! "I, um, I know this great place in town, and... and maybe after that, well, um, I know I said I wasn't a doctor, but I could always, um... play one?"

That was it. Brain over. Embarrassment equals very yes. The mare prepared to collapse into a singularity. Surely the amount of shame and humiliation contained in her volume exceeded that needed for her Schwarzsfoal Radius.

Trial gave a grin as he brought himself muzzle-to-muzzle with her. "Why wait?"

Oh. Or this. This could happen, too. "I... uh... Spike is..."

"Surely there's some errand you can send him on."

A grin burst into place on Twilight's face. "Yes! Errand! Sure! Spike!"

"What!?"

A small satchel was brought into the air, loose coins flying into it like circular bees returning to their cloth hive. "You've been such a great assistant lately, I think you deserve a little reward. Why don't you take the rest of the day off and go do something fun?"

The hatchling came back into the room, uncertain. "I'm not complaining, but what about that book?"

"Oh, it's just a book. We can wait until Mr. Jelly returns it, can't we, Clinny?"

The stallion hesitated only slightly when presented with the pet name. "Er, yes, not that important."

"Okay..." Spike took the makeshift wallet out of the air, looking from pony to pony suspiciously. "Just don't try any funny stuff while I'm gone, got it?"

Despite herself, Twilight couldn't help but giggle at her assistant's authoritative expression. "Yes, sir, Mr. Dragon, sir."

Head high and ego inflated, the dragon strutted out of the library.

The door slammed shut behind him, encased in violet. His mistress turned to the other pony, a hungry look in her eye. "So where we?"

Trial returned the expression as he came closer. "About here."

As first kisses go, there have certainly been worse over the history of the Multiverse. There have certainly been better ones as well, many because one kisser's tongue didn't sprout a stinger or inject the other kisser with a potent narcotic.

The sleeper agent broke the loosening lip lock with visible disgust, letting Twilight slump to the ground, still bearing a look of dreamy bliss. He retrieved the vial of glistening oil, the quintessence of Phyrexia, and unstoppered it. "Alright, Miss Sparkle, time to take your medicine."

The mare, barely conscious, found this hilarious. "Hehehe. Shekshy medishin."

"Oh, yes. Sexy indeed. Say 'ah.'"

Reflexes carefully honed by pediatricians kicked into gear, and Twilight obeyed. The vial was emptied into her mouth, the oil slithering into her system by its own accord. Trial nodded in approval. "Good girl. Now, in these saddlebags are seven more vials. I'll leave it up to you what to do with them. All I'm going to need is this." A circular device with a single large button floated out of the storage device. "Now then, I must bid you farewell, Twilight Sparkle. Good luck in your future studies. All will be one."

"All'l be one." Twilight smiled. What a nice sentiment. Her and her friends and Celestia and Luna and everypony else, all together forever, with no discord or strife. Who wouldn't want that?

"Thus, the Element of Magic has been compromised," concluded the pony. "Harmony is no threat to us. It may have already been made our ally in its entirety."

"Their greatest hope lost before they even know they'll need it." Sheoldred smiled. "Oh, I like this one."

"YOU'VE STILL FORCED OUR HAND, GITAXIAS," Vorinclex deafeningly grumbled. "WE'VE GOT LITTLE TIME TO ACT BEFORE SOMEONE OUTSIDE YOUR PITIFUL AREA OF INFLUENCE NOTICES."

"True," conceded Jin. "Still, would I be correct in assuming that you will be participating in this campaign?"

"AND LET THE REST OF YOU TRY TO OUTMANEUVER ME? YOU'RE NOT GOING TO GET RID OF ME THAT EASILY."

Urabrask shrugged. "Might as well. If nothing else, maybe the dragons will make effective workers."

Norn grinned. "Then it is decided. 'Skin is the prison of the blessed and the stronghold of the heretic.' Plate sixty-four, passage seventeen. For the glory of Phyrexia, let us raid these new strongholds and free those who do not know they are imprisoned."

Clinical Trial trembled with joy, ecstatic that he had proven his worth to those inherently superior to him in all ways. Jin-Gitaxias merely smiled, and nodded, and planned.

Strange Obsession 2(gu)(gu)
Enchantment
As Strange Obsession enters the battlefield, choose a subtype.
Whenever you cast a spell of the chosen type, you may draw a card.
"I judge not. I ask only that I not be judged in return. And for strawberries, if you have any to spare."
—Hugh Jelly, jam enthusiast

Gitaxian Sleeper UU
Creature — Unicorn Minion
When Gitaxian Sleeper enters the battlefield, target opponent gains control of it.
Whenever you draw a card, if you aren't Gitaxian Sleeper's owner, then that player may draw a card.
"My purpose is simple: Guide this world towards the perfection that created me."
3/3

Early Onset

Megan 5, 5873
Sparkle's Log: It's been a few days since Clinical Trial came into my life and swept me off my hooves. I find my thoughts alternately consumed by him and the mysterious oil he gave me. All attempts to locate the stallion have failed, up to and including Grenadine's Planetary Scrying, which of course has the entire world as its area of effect. The only logical conclusion is that he came from another plane entirely. I'll have to ask Pinkie or Ditzy about it at some point.

For now, however, I'm refocusing all of my efforts on the oil. It's simply amazing! As I noted before, it exhibits virtually all properties of life, save for metabolism. It doesn't seem to require any material input at all. Oh, it can certainly accept and use food, usually to reproduce, but it doesn't need food anymore than a seapony needs a skateboard.

In another amazing development, I've finally found something that Spike won't eat. Well, that's not fair, there are plenty of things he's capable of digesting that he chooses not to consume. Me, for example. But this oil actually managed to suppress a young dragon's appetite. I'm pretty sure that that's unprecedented.

These observations are all well and good, but I'm not going to get anywhere without a more scientific approach. I need to think of some experiments, ways to put this stuff through its paces, show what it can do. The only questions are how and with what. Or maybe, just maybe... who.

Gitaxias provided each of his siblings with a portal to Equestria, each sympathetically keyed to a location that would match the mana of its surroundings. Vorinclex's portal opened in a forest, of course. A dark, ominous wood that smelled of untamed hostility. He'd smiled. Maybe this wouldn't be a complete disappointment after all.

First things first: Establish a beachhead. That had been as simple as pointing a few putrefaces in the right direction. The beasts were designed to perform three tasks over their brief life spans: maul, infect, and breed. They did so with their usual efficiency, the very trees weeping glistening oil in a matter of days.

From there, it was simply a matter of introducing superior species to a foreign ecosystem and letting nature handle the rest. Reluctantly, at Glissa's insistence, the Voice of Hunger allowed elves through to oversee the conquest. Distasteful as he found sapience, he admitted that it proved marginally useful in the early stages of an invasion.

Of course, that led to another matter entirely...

"WHY ARE MY ELVES TURNING INTO PREY ANIMALS!?"

Jin-Gitaxias might have blinked if he could. He definitely tapped his chin in thought. "Well, that's that hypothesis confirmed."

"WHAT HYPOTHESIS?"

"Morphic field restriction," Gitaxias answered idly. "The reason why there aren't any humans in Equestria is because they literally cannot exist in its set of physical laws."

"ELVES AREN'T HUMANS!"

"No, but they are hominids, and that appears to be where the line is drawn. From my studies, only ape descendants should be affected. Goblins, leonin, loxodons, all should be unaffected."

A grumble rose deep in Vorinclex's throat. There was a lot of throat. There was a lot of grumble. "AND, OF COURSE, I DON'T HAVE ANY OF THOSE!"

Jin shrugged. "Well, you don't have a lot of humanoids in general. Try your exarchs. They should be sufficiently processed not to register as taxonomic contraband. Out of curiosity, what specifically did the elves turn into?"

"DEER." The enormous praetor spat out the four-letter word like it was a four-letter word and closed communications.

The Core Augur pondered this for a moment. "Deer. Elk. Elf. Hm. Wordplay."

The life of a shaman is one of ascetic seclusion, steeped in ancient tradition and ritual in a never-ending quest towards enlightenment through oneness with nature.

Of course, even the enlightened need to eat, and for all of its benefits for the soul, oneness with nature does nothing for the stomach. As such, Zecora was gathering from the bounty of the Everfree when she spotted movement in the corner of her eye. She betrayed no reaction beyond slowly, casually turning her head for a better look. Surprisingly, it wasn't some denizen of the forest in the mood for an exotic meal.

"Now what creature do I see here?" she muttered to herself. "Some sort of foreign armored deer?"

Indeed, it seemed to be a doe, though unlike any the zebra had ever seen. Her coat was an odd greenish hue that seemed more suited for a pony than a hart. At least, it was where it was visible. Much of her body was encased in a strange copper-colored carapace, leaving only her flank and the upper regions of her legs exposed. She seemed to be looking for something.

Ascetic seclusion was one thing. Forging an alliance with one of those few neighbors who don't want to eat you was another. Zecora moved closer before warmly saying, "Greetings, friend, or so I hope. I wish you well. No need to mope."

The stranger's head snapped towards her with almost painful speed, and the shaman found herself struggling not to flinch. The doe frowned, but said nothing. Perhaps Zecora had been spending too long amongst the ponies, but she was not put off by this recalcitrance. "I must confess surprise to see a deer here in the Everfree. Most of your kin believe they should remain within the Whitetail Wood."

For a few moments, there was silence. Finally, the deer asked, "Do you always speak in rhyme?" Her voice had clearly been beautiful once, but now it was marred by a hoarse rasp, as though she hadn't had a drink for years.

"Shamanic tradition demands it of me to make sure I do not speak frivolously."

The doe's stance relaxed a bit. It was still wary, but didn't exude quite the same level of suspicion and hostility. "You are a shaman, then."

Zecora nodded. "I wander the world to be one with the wild, for it is my mother and I am its child."

"I see." She chuckled to herself, a sound uncannily like a log being sawed in half. "You might say I am doing the same thing."

The zebra smiled. "Our goals in life appear the same. If you would be so kind, your name?"

"Glissa. Yours?"

"Zecora, my dam and my sire decided, would mark where their foal's identity resided."

"Zecora." Glissa gave a small smile of her own. "Come. Walk with me. We undoubtedly have much to share. Insights into the nature of nature."

The zebra fell into step with her before voicing a nagging question. "Before all the lessons of trunk, branch, and petal, I must ask, why do you wear all of that metal?"

"Ah. That is a rather complicated story, but one you will no doubt find quite enlightening..."

Applejack looked up from the supper dishes when she heard the familiar sound of scratching at the door. The farmhoof gave a pleased sigh as she interrupted herself. "All right, Winona, Ah'm comin'." The scratching seemed unusually vigorous and didn't abate after her call, making the mare frown a bit in confusion. "Shoot, girl, what's got yer tail in a knot?"

She got her answer when she opened the front door. "Y'all ain't Winona."

The timberwolf didn't comment on that obvious statement, instead shouldering past the shocked pony and rushing for the stairs.

A moment later, Applejack registered that a dangerous denizen of the Everfree Forest had just entered her home. "Now hold on an apple-buckin' minute there!" She chased after the wooden predator, only to stop in shock at the scene before her.

The timberwolf, a symbol of the Everfree, of nature unguided by pony hoof, had its head in her grandmother's lap, whimpering like a scolded puppy. Granny Smith, to her credit, seemed to be taking it in stride, soothingly stroking the rough-hewn wood of the creature's scalp as she rocked in her chair. "What's the matter, li'l fella?" cooed the Apple matriarch.

"G-Granny! What in the name o' cinnamon sticks is goin' on here?"

The old mare shot her granddaughter a tepid glare. "Y'all hush now, Applejack. Th' timberwolves an' Ah have had ourselves an understandin' since b'fore y' were born." She turned back to the cowed canid. "What awful, awful beast did this to ya?"

The beast simply whimpered. Only then did Applejack notice the splintering rents in its body, long swaths of damage that seemed to have come from a massive set of claws, slowly dripping tree sap and some black, bilious fluid. After another few strokes of Granny's forehoof, the timberwolf shuddered, and the lights of its eyes flickered and died. It collapsed into a pile of wooden scraps shortly thereafter.

Applejack said nothing for a time, stunned by the event. Timberwolves weren't the worst threat in the Everfree, but she'd never heard of something that not only fatally wounded one but sent it running to a pony of all creatures. "Whaddaya reckon did this to it, Granny?"

The older earth pony didn't break her gaze from the wolf's still-intact head, still in her lap. "Ah don't rightly know, Jackie. 'Tain't good, though. 'Tain't good at all."

Megan 8, 5873
Sparkle's Log: I had the dream again. I've never put much stock in oneiromancy, but even I won't deny that the same vivid dream three nights in a row must have some deeper significance. I'll try to get down as much as I can remember.

It begins with a world built like a giant metal onion, layer upon layer, each supporting those above it. I don't know how I know this, simply that I do. It's a wondrous construct, beautiful, intricate, the sort of thing an artificer dreams of.

Then it explodes.

It isn't clear what causes the explosion, just that it happens. And it is devastating. Forests of pipes collapse. An ocean of oil bursts into flame. The entire planet is annihilated in a matter of moments.

And yet, there is hope. A metal being, shaped like a stocky, silver human out of some forgotten filly tale, carries just a bit of that world in him. When the metal man becomes a planeswalker, he creates his own metal world, a simpler, more elegant design. He makes a single outer layer surrounding a brilliant core of pure magical energy.

But this world is stagnant, predictable. It's not a place, it's a sculpture, an equation. That's how the metal man wants it, artwork over environment. But unknowingly, he leaves a bit of the essence of the first metal world in his as he shapes it to his tastes.

One day, the metal man helps a woman realize her own destiny as a planeswalker, and the two leave his world to explore the rest of the Multiverse. He leaves behind a Warden to keep the world safe. The Warden takes into himself the essence of the first metal world, and he begins to improve his creator's design. Lazy sinusoidal rivers are reshaped into an expansive quicksilver sea. Tessellating wastes of hexagonal plates sprout literal blades of steel grass. Precisely calculated fractal shrubs give way to immense spires of verdigrised copper. Algorithmically formed mesas are supplanted by proud, rusting peaks that play merry havoc with magnetism. And seemingly of its own accord, a morass of rotting metal and corroding flesh suppurates into existence

The Warden populates his new world with creatures from throughout the myriad planes. All manner of animals, including the ancient horses, ancestors of ponykind. Mechanized life, built rather than born, yet no less alive for it. Mythical beings like humans and fantastic races undreamt of by equinity. All of them at least partly metallic, flesh transitioning to metal organically, seamlessly.

Before I can see more, I wake up. Is this the story of the oil? It feels... unfinished, somehow. Incomplete. How can I learn the rest? Surely, if I continue my research, I'll find the answers. The mice I've acquired from Fluttershy under the pretense of feeding Owloysius have provided a wealth of data, and yet nowhere near enough. I haven't ruled out pony experimentation, but nopony in his or her right mind would consent to the kinds of tests I want, no, need to perform. Except for me. Maybe I should drink a bit more? It doesn't smell as bad as it used to, or maybe I'm getting used to it...

Oh, and Applejack said something about a wounded timberwolf dying in the legs of Granny Smith. Ugh. Why can't the forces of darkness announce their encroachments ahead of time? Here I am, on the verge of a world-changing breakthrough, and this happens. Honestly, does terrorizing timberwolves even count as evil? It's the Everfree Forest. Who cares?

Urabrask's portal opened in the middle of a mountain, one not of pure iron but of stone, a substance foreign to New Phyrexia. Excavation began immediately, the new material a welcome addition to the Quiet Furnace. That humans turned to small horses and ogres to moose was inconsequential. The Great Work continued, no matter what shape its workers took.

Sheoldred's portal opened in a sodden bog. To most, it would be a paradise compared to the hellish conditions of the Mephidross. To the Whispering One, it was an unsightly, flesh-choked wasteland begging for phyresis, a plea she was eager to answer. Especially that poor, poor hydra. It would thank her after the infection ran its course.

Gitaxias's own gateway wasn't constrained to a single location like those he gave his siblings. If asked, he would claim that the equipment needed to manually select a destination would be too complex and require too much training for the other praetors to even bother with it. Like much of what the Augur of the Core said, it would have been largely true while omitting the most important point; it gave him a distinct advantage in compleating the pony plane.

As for Elesh Norn, her portal opened up in the very spot where the first Phyrexian set foot in Ungula. The oil Clinical Trial had spread on the grass had flourished in the mana-rich light of the sun and moon, hypertrophying the plant life, slowly converting vegetable matter into tarnished steel. In this surreal savannah congregated evangels of the Argent Etchings, eager to spread the Glorious Word to the uneducated equine masses. Priests of Norn marshaled the blessed crusade, consecrating their efforts in the name of the Grand Cenobite and the absent Father of Machines.

And one day, it was determined that their numbers were sufficient to finish the work the Gitaxian had begun in Ponyville.

Perhaps the greatest sign of the attack's severity was the reaction of the florist triplets. None of them fainted. None of them panicked. None of them commented on the horror. When the first ponies came running from the north with frantic tales of a monstrous invasion behind them, the three calmly and efficiently closed up shop for the day, barricaded their windows, and sealed themselves in the panic room in their basement. Prior to this final lockdown, Lilly thoughtfully hung a sign on the door:

Apocalypse in progress.
Closed until further notice.
Thank you for your patronage.
We told you so.

Other, less paranoid ponies were eagerly filling in for the trio in the blind panic department, running in every direction conceivable for every reason imaginable. A few even galloped towards the invaders, countless incidents of books misjudged by their covers making these optimists believe the alleged army to be simply misunderstood. After a few dangerously close impromptu manecuts, they reevaluated the situation, opting for the more popular strategy of fleeing for their lives.

A few others stood in place, unable to process what was happening. Among them, Rarity gazed at the tableau, horrified. Two-legged monstrosities with dripping blades for forelimbs and cat skulls for heads. Flapping blasphemies that were closer to jagged, malevolent kites than birds. Monstrous, hulking creatures that made Diamond Dogs seem pleasant by comparison. They had attacked her neighbors. They were coming for her town. And each and every one of them was...

"Ugly." Something stirred in the fashionista's soul. "UGLY." Something righteous and indignant, demanding expression. "UGLY!"

Her horn flared and tiny sapphires crystallized around her, elongated octahedrons like beautiful, glittering darts. She launched them into the marching hordes, and her beauty smote their hideousness. The avian parodies fell from the skies. The feline grotesques dropped where they stood. The ogreish brutes slowly crumbled, like collapsing mountains.

Rarity caught her breath and gasped at the bodies in her wake. "What... what have I done?" They had been monsters, yes, but even monsters were to be diverted, outthought, contained. Not... not slaughtered. She slumped to the ground, shaken by what she was capable of.

A bizarre sound like a trumpet with a head cold broke through the designer's revery. One of the massive beasts had survived and was charging at her, ignoring the blood and stranger ichors flowing from its many wounds.

Rarity sat petrified. Time slowed to a crawl. With the peculiar sensory acuity of the imminently deceased, she noted every spot of corrosion on the armor bolted to her assailant's flesh. She counted the rings of stained porcelain that encircled its strange, elongated snout. She even noticed some alien script inscribed on the head of the hammer as it swung towards her skull.

Then, in a burst of green and a strangled cry of pain, time resumed its normal course. The unicorn blinked, beholding the brute's body, now burnt and bested. Flames still licked at black patches of fluid, turning red and smoky.

As though from miles away, she heard an anxious, caring voice. "Are you okay, Rarity?"

She smiled. "All the better for your asking, my Spikey-Wikey."

"Rarity!" Twilight's voice rang out, underscored by her galloping hooves. She stopped next to her friend, panting a bit. "We came as soon as we heard. What happened?"

The alabaster mare shook her head. "I simply don't know. These terrible, terrible creatures came marching in from the north, sending ponies fleeing before them. Something about them just... oh it was dreadful, darling, simply dre— Wahaha!" She sprang up, cutting herself off as she beheld the other unicorn. "Twilight! By Celestia's wings, what happened to you?"

"Huh?" The student looked herself over and saw only brilliance. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" Rarity began to pace around the purple pony as she rattled off answers. "Your tail looks like a limp dishrag, your mane is falling out at the roots, you look like you haven't seen a brush or a meal in days, and your eyes..." She shuddered.

"What about my eyes?" Twilight crossed them, trying to see for herself.

The fashionista conjured a mirror and held it up. "Twilight, the whites of your eyes have turned black at the edges."

"What?" The studious mare examined her reflection. "Huh. So they are. Peripheral discoloration of the sclera. That's a new one."

Rarity was less sanguine about the phenomenon. "'That's a new one'? You obviously have some sort of terrible illness. We need to get you to the hospital at once!"

Twilight smiled. She knew her friend meant well, she just didn't have all the information. That was easily fixed. "Oh, Rarity. It's nothing to worry about. It's probably just a harmless side effect of my current research."

This didn't seem to help. "Twilight, let me preface this by saying that I deeply regret having to resort to such measures."

The lavender mare backed up a few steps. "What are you—"

Before she could finish, a clump of her mane was enveloped in a sapphire aura and yanked out of her scalp. Rarity considered the brittle strands mournfully before turning back to her friend, waving her own hair in her face. "This," proclaimed the designer, "is not a harmless side effect. This is a betrayal of the elegance and refinement I have come to expect from you, Twilight Sparkle. This is a travesty, a shameful waste of your gifts of natural beauty."

"But I—"

"Spare me your excuses. You have clearly learned nothing from the incident last summer. Once again you have come across some arcane conundrum and are so busily trying to make sense of it that you don't even notice your own decent into monstrosity. Well I won't have it!"

Spike nodded. "She's right, you know."

Rarity turned to him. "And as for you!"

"Wha—?"

"I thought it was understood that you were responsible for preventing these episodes. What do you have to say for yourself, young dragon?"

"I tried!" he cried. "I tried everything short of setting her tail on fire! She wouldn't budge! I even made her favorite dessert!"

Twilight frowned in confusion. "When did you make Crêpes Suzette à la Dragon?"

"Last night! When I told you, you didn't even look up from the centrifuge!" Tears welled in the baby dragon's eyes. "You just said 'Uh huh' and told me to put scalpels on the shopping list." He clutched her foreleg. "You're losing yourself, Twilight. You need to come back to us."

Rarity put a hoof on her friend's shoulder. "He's right, darling. Whatever it is you're working on can't be as important as you seem to think it is."

Twilight looked from mare to dragon, looked inside herself, and didn't particularly like what she saw. "You're right. You're both right. Especially given the whole 'invading monsters' thing." She grinned. "Actually, I think I may have an idea about that. Rarity, could you have everypony meet me in the library in, oh, about an hour?"

The designer plastered a smile on her face as she backed away from the other mare. "Uh, why... certainly, dear. Did you mean everypony everypony, or just the girls?"

"Just the girls. And Spike, of course." Twilight registered her friend's expression. "What's wrong?"

"Eh heh, well, how do I put this delicately..."

Spike didn't bother. "Your tears are black." What? He was a guy. He'd already met his sap quota for the month.

"Really?" Twilight summoned a mirror of her own, seeing the twin black streaks that went down her cheeks. "Fascinating..." She noticed a glare from Rarity. "I mean, worrisome. How worrisome and not at all intriguing." She gave her best innocent smile. "See you in an hour! Come on, Spike."

In the Books and Branches Library, the Bearers of Harmony gathered around a short table. After explaining her current appearance and enduring her friends' chastisements, Twilight took a deep breath. "Now, I'm sure you're all wondering why I asked you all to come."

"You asked us?" questioned Pinkie Pie. "I thought Rarity had arranged an intervention." She pouted. "Darn it, now the cake's inaccurate."

The lavender unicorn frowned. "What cake?"

"This cake!" The party pony produced a purple pastry parallelogram depicting the six friends in a group hug, Twilight in the middle. Magenta icing spelled out "Happy Intervention Twilight!"

"When did you—"

"I keep cakes stashed everywhere in Ponyville."

Twilight gave a wan smile. "In case of cake emergency?"

The poofy-maned mare frowned in confusion. "What? No. The hay's a cake emergency? I just keep them around in case I have to organize a party on really, really, really short notice. I mean, what kind of party doesn't have cake?"

"Pinkie, dear," Rarity said gently, "an intervention isn't exactly a 'party' sort of get-together."

Rainbow Dash shrugged. "Yeah, but we've all said our piece at Twilight, and now we have cake. I say we eat it anyway."

"But it's not right," moaned Pinkie.

"Tastes the same no matter what's written on it," Applejack reasoned.

"I guess..."

Twilight frowned. "If we could focus on the real reason I asked you all here?" Her stomach offered a counterproposal. With a blush, the unicorn called, "Spike could you serve this, please?"

"Sure thing." The dragon came downstairs and hefted the sweet sheet into the kitchen.

"I'll help!" Pinkie cheered, bouncing after him.

"And make some tea while you're in there!" Celestia's student turned back to her fellow saviors of ponykind. "Now, I called you all here because it's clear that something terrible is going on. Between the abnormal behavior of the timberwolf at Sweet Apple Acres a few days ago and today's incursion by... whatever those things were, there's an obvious spike in strange and frightening events."

"What?"

Twilight resisted the urge to facehoof. "A statistical spike!"

"Oh. Okay!"

She returned to business. "Has anypony else heard about something unusual recently?"

"A lot of creatures seem to be fleeing the deeper parts of the Everfree Forest," noted Fluttershy. "They're displacing the gentler animals who normally live on the edges and around my cottage. I don't know what, but something has them all very scared."

Applejack frowned. "Jus' like that timberwolf."

"Could it a be a new dragon?" Twilight proposed.

Rarity shook her head. "Dragons don't have legions of unspeakably hideous monsters at their beck and call. At least, none that I've heard of."

"I have!"

All eyes turned to Pinkie Pie. "Weren't you helping with the cake?" asked Dash.

"Yeah, but Spike's got everything well in claw." The party pony grinned. "So, dragon with abomination armies? Yeah, that could be it. It isn't, but it could be. Kind of a shame, I haven't seen him for a couple years."

Twilight perked up. "Wait, you know what doing all of this?"

"Sure! Didn't I tell you guys about the giant evil science person I met last week?"

Four ponies shook their heads. One gaped at the earth mare. "You were serious about that?" exclaimed Rainbow Dash.

Pinkie beamed. "I'm always serious, Dashie! Except when I'm not!" She pouted. "And I did ask you tell everypony else."

"Y' kin tell us now, Pinkie," pointed out Applejack.

"Oh yeah! Well, once upon a time, there was a bunch of big meanies called the Phyrexians, who were big and nasty and ugly and half-metal and who didn't like anyone who wasn't like them. They were led by the biggest, meaniest big meanie of them all, who wanted to turn the whole wide Multiverse into Phyrexians. But one day there came a planeswalker named Urza, who swore everlasting vengeance on Phyrexia for corrupting his brother and making him kill him and also blow up a continent. For millennia, the hugegantonormous extra-meanie planned an invasion of Urza's home, and Urza planned a defense. When the invasion finally happened, it was all BOOM! ZOOM! KAFWOOM! RAWWWWR! GRARGHL-ZAAAARGH!" Pinkie then performed an elaborate series of gestures and sound effects that actually summarized the Phyrexian invasion of Dominaria quite effectively, provided one knew what to look for. To the other mares, it looked more like an epileptic fit with style.

After a final leap and "SHAZAM!", the cotton candy maned mare lay prone on the ground. Twilight risked a question. "So, what does this—"

The baker held up a forehoof. "Up up up! Not finished!" With a backwards somersault, she righted herself and continued. "So, Yawgmoth was destroyed, Phyrexia was wiped off the map, and Pernicious Deed became a tournament staple until it rotated out of Standard. The end!" She paused and frowned. "Except it wasn't the end, since apparently there's a New Phyrexia now."

"And that's what's attacking us?" asked Twilight.

"Looks like it."

"Another plane," muttered the purple unicorn. "An entire other universe, trying to invade us. Make us into them." She shivered. "What do we do?"

"Twi', as much faith as Ah have in ya," Applejack opined, "Ah think this one's just a bit outta yer league."

The student nodded. "You're right. I'm still just one pony. This is an issue for the Princesses to address. Spike!"

Her assistant entered from the kitchen, a serving tray in tow. "Yes, Twilight?"

"I need you to take a letter. This is vitally urgent."

"Just a second." He fetched a quill and parchment.

Seeing that the dragon was ready, Twilight began her dictation. "Dear Princess Celestia,

"You may have heard of unusual events occurring near Ponyville and the Everfree Forest. According to Pinkie Pie, this is nothing less than an invasion from another plane of existence. The invaders are horrific beings, half-flesh, half-metal, who want nothing more than to make us into more of them. The other Bearers of Harmony agree with me that the situation is beyond our capabilities as mortal ponies, even mortal ponies who wield one of the most powerful magics in our world. This requires nothing less than Luna and your direct intervention. Please reply posthaste. I fear for all of us.

"Your faithful student,
"Twilight Sparkle"

With a puff of flame the message was sent on its way. As it went, Fluttershy peeped up. "Um, Twilight?"

"Yes, Fluttershy?"

"Well, I know we were all concerned and maybe a bit angry at you for letting yourself go like you did, but I realized you never really got a chance to say why. Would you mind telling us what were you working on so intensely?"

"Not at all." Twilight developed a fond, distant look. "You see, about a week ago, I met a stallion. An incredible, wonderful stallion..."

"You did freaky experiments on yourself for a colt?" Dash exclaimed incredulously. "What kinda creep is this guy?"

"Now really, Rainbow," chided Rarity, "we've all done foolish things for love at one time or another." She frowned. "Though I do admit, nopony who would cause a mare to so degenerate sounds like a desirable beau."

Twilight shook her head fiercely "No, no, you've got it all wrong! It wasn't Clinical Trial who piqued my scientific interest, it was what he gave me." She floated one of the vials of oil up from the basement. "Specifically, this. This fluid is one of the most incredible magical substances I've ever seen. It's a symbiont that augments all aspects of a lifeform while feeding off extraneous matter to reproduce itself." This was met with blank looks and variations on "Uh..." She sighed. "It makes living things work better."

Dash perked up. "So this stuff'll make me even faster?"

"You'll be doing rainbooms in your sleep."

"Sign me up!" cried the pegasus.

Rarity gave the vial a thoughtful look. "'Extraneous matter,' you say. As in weight loss?"

Twilight frowned. "Well, yes, but you seem to be in great shape, Rarity."

The fashionista shrugged. "It's always good to have some contingencies in place, dear."

"Um, could..." Fluttershy swallowed nervously. "Could it be used as a medicine?"

"Um..." Twilight's thoughts went to inoculated rodents scratching at their own flesh, convulsing in agony, oil seeping out of their eyes. "It's kind of rough on the system at first," she admitted. "From what I've seen, it's best to apply it to a healthy specimen."

"I see." The pink-maned pegasus frowned, then locked eyes with her friend. "And how precisely did you learn that?"

The unicorn bit her lip, glancing from side to side. She soon caved under the pressure of the low-power Stare. "I... I'm sorry, Fluttershy. I misled you. Not all of the mice you gave me were for Owloysius."

The gentle mare sighed, and Twilight inexplicably felt she needed to apologize to her mother. "As long as you are through performing these experiments, I forgive you."

The student quickly objected. "But, but there's so much I still don't know about the substance!"

"Then you can learn it without needlessly harming yourself or others."

"I can tell you."

Once more everypony turned to Pinkie Pie, realizing that she had been silent since the fluid was unveiled. "What do you mean?" asked Twilight.

The pink pony took a deep breath. "You're right, Twilight, you just don't have the whole story. That stuff does make something stronger, faster, more durable, but there's a catch. See, in order for it to do all of that, it reshapes you, turns you into a monster in both body and mind. You see, that right there is glistening oil. The stuff of Phyrexia."

Twilight became the center of attention once more. She shook her head desperately. "No. No, that can't be true!"

"Actually," noted a stunned Applejack, "there was somethin' like that on the poor timberwolf."

"And that horrendous fiend Spike so valiantly defended me from," Rarity added.

"Then... then I'm..."

"Turning yourself into one of the enemy," finished Pinkie.

The purple unicorn was horrified, looking at her hooves like she'd never seen them before. "But... but I'm still me." She looked to her friends. "Aren't I?"

"Your eyes are black around the edges, Twi," Dash said ruefully.

"I... How could I... There has to be a cure! An antidote!" She brightened with newfound hope. "The Elements! They must be able to help."

Pinkie nodded, a smile returning to her lips. "Yeah! There's no way Harmony wants to be part of the giant metal death onion!"

Silence. After a moment, she added, "Old Phyrexia was a bunch of concentric spheres. I always called it the giant metal death onion."

Rainbow Dash hovered over the unicorn, trying to give a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Twilight. We're here for you every step of the way."

"Thank you, Rainbow, that means a lot." The studious unicorn took a deep breath. "Alright. Everypony, get your Element. Time is of the essence."

The other bearers nodded, then made for the door. Twilight waved them farewell, a grateful smile on her face.

After a beat, the smile turned snide. "Well, their hearts are in the right places. In between their lungs." She gave a brief laugh at the non-joke, then turned to Spike. "Get Exploring the Æther for Fun and Profit."

He nodded mechanically, then droned, "At once."

Before even Rainbow Dash could return with her Element, the library glowed with a surreal blue light, then faded away. The ground was unblemished by any sign there had ever been a tree there, much less one converted into a public building.

Pinkie Pie said it best, once she returned. "Well, we're boned."

Megan 12, 5873
Sparkle's Log: Oh, my friends. My dear, innocent, well-meaning friends. I know you only want what's best for me. But like so many ponies, you simply don't know what that is. You don't even know what's best for yourselves. But your good friend Twilight does. Oh, you won't like it, not at first. Spike certainly didn't like the idea of me dominating his mind, but the funny thing about free will is that you don't feel any different without it. Unless I tell you to. Who said nothing constructive ever came of changelings?

Pinkie, for all of your experience and wisdom, you were wrong. I am not becoming a Phyrexian. I am Celestia's faithful student, the Bearer of Magic, most powerful unicorn of my generation. Do you really think I didn't have the metacognitive capacity to recognize the clumsy attempts to alter my thoughts? That I couldn't respond to them? Oh, trying to fight the changes would be an exercise in futility. The mice taught me that. But not even the oil expected me to work with it. Phyrexia, it seems, knows nothing of the magic of friendship. And that is how we will win. We will unite the strengths of both worlds into a single insurmountable whole.

No, none of you will be happy with what I've done at first. Assuming you even notice. I chose a strong, dark brew for a reason. After all, it wouldn't do if somepony noticed the color or flavor of the glistening oil in her cup. But in time, you will see. You will understand. You will thank me. And then we can work together and explore the magic of friendship as never before. The findings we will bring to Celestia won't just be the understandings we mortals gain through personal growth. They will genuine discoveries, insights into equine nature to which even she is not privy.

Celestia. Soon, soon we will be able to converse not as ruler and subject, not as teacher and student, but true equals. True friends. Have you ever had a true friend before? Luna doesn't count. She is your sister. I know that the bond between siblings is different from friendship. Deeper in many ways, yet shallower in crucial ones. Perhaps the closest was Star Swirl, but to you even he was little more than I: A clever pet, a living plaything in whom you could witness the joy of discovery forever barred to you by your own divine omniscience.

For you are omniscient, are you not? Surely you would appear before me in an instant, cleanse me or strike me down were this not your will. Just as with the unfortunate incident with Smarty Pants. Oh, what a misguided fool I have been. But soon, soon I will make you proud as never before. Soon another will be able to assuage a millennium of loneliness and regret. I do this for love, Celestia. For love of you, of my friends, of all of Equestria. No doubt you would do the same.

Hmm. Curious. My mind keeps returning to the theme of unity. It seems... appropriate. Yes, the bonds of friendship, of family, of knowledge and understanding will connect all of Equestria. Like the neurons in a brain, we will be countless units of a whole inexpressibly greater than the sum of its parts. Our friendships shall be as the synapses, our love as the neurotransmitters. Together our cogitation will be exponentially wiser than all the greatest individual minds of history put together. A thought occurs to me. A good thought. A wise thought. I will commit it to this log for posterity, for future generations, for the keystone of utopia that it truly is:

All will be one.

Rain of Fabulosity 1W
Instant
Rain of Fabulosity deals 1 damage to each attacking creature.
Hoofcraft — Rain of Fabulosity deals 2 damage to each attacking creature instead if you control three or more Ponies, Pegasi, and/or Unicorns.
"Against these foul invaders, beauty is one of our greatest weapons."
—Rarity, Bearer of Generosity

Timberwolf Blightpack 4G
Creature — Plant Wolf
Infect
Whenever Timberwolf Blightpack becomes blocked, it gets +1/+1 until end of turn for each creature blocking it.
Their favorite food is whatever gets in their way.
3/3

Incubation

Fluttershy raced back to the library, a friend's need driving her to speeds she'd never even dreamt of. Her heart raced, her lungs burned, and her wings ached, but she still flew her fastest since the Cloudsdale resupply waterspout. A continual chant of "Oh my goodness" gave her a rhythm by which she could push her nearly exhausted body to its limits and beyond.

When she collapsed, a small, petty part of her was rather put off to see that she was still the last one there. Most of her was more concerned with the sudden absence of her destination. "Wh-where's... the... tree?" she panted.

"Dang if Ah know," answered Applejack, "but it looks like Twilight done tricked us good." She glowered. "When Ah get mah hooves on that mare—"

"Get in line," growled Pinkie Pie. Yes, Pinkie Pie.

The other Bearers, each wearing her respective Element, looked at her, astonished by her uncharacteristic vitriol. "Um, Pinkie?" Dash said uneasily. "You feelin' okay there?"

"Long story," grumbled the party pony, her expression sour. She turned from the site of the vanished library and marched away purposefully. The others followed her half out of herd instinct, half because they had no other leads. "Normally, I'd explain it in as oblique and metareferential a way as possible, but now I've got more pressing concerns."

"Such as?" prompted Rarity.

Pinkie groaned. "Don't get me started. I've got a planar counterinvasion to plan, a protagonist to alert, foreshadowing to provide, red herrings to slip, and an order of five dozen red velvet cupcakes that needs to be filled in a few hours. Thanks to Twilight, my schedule is more overstuffed than a morbidly obese eclair!"

Dash frowned in confusion. "What's Twilight got to do with... well, whatever it is you just said?"

The poofy-maned mare followed suit. "Wait, you didn't know?" A moment later, she shook her head in disgust. "Ugh, of course you don't know. That's the point." She gave a long-suffering sigh. "Be thankful, girls. Medium awareness can be a heavy burden." With that, she ducked into an alley and out of view. When the other four ponies followed her, it was empty.

"Pinkie did seem even Pinkier than normal to you guys, right?" asked Rainbow Dash. "That wasn't just me, right?" This got a trio of nods.

"She's trying to channel the worry and frustration she's feeling at Twilight's vanishing into something constructive." Fluttershy thought over this for a moment. "At least, I think that's what she's doing. I could be wrong."

Applejack kicked at the dirt. "So what're we gonna do now? We've still got a posse o' real nasty characters fixin' ta invade an' now we got two friends crazier 'n usual. One's off doin' Celestia knows what, th' other's turnin 'erself inta one o' th' enemy, an' long as they're goin' nuts, these ain't more 'n fancy necklaces." She looked despairingly at the Torc of Honesty.

Rarity smiled reassuringly. "We've still warned Celestia of the crisis."

"Yeah, but Spike's with Twilight," noted Dash. "What if she writes back saying she's trusting us to take care of it?"

"We cannot concern ourselves with 'what if's," the designer said primly. "We all must hope for the best and prepare for the worst. We can do no more. For good or for ill, the matter is out of our hooves."

A pink force of nature swept into the post office. The receptionist looked up, fear and awe in his gaze. "C-can I help you?" He clearly hoped that he couldn't.

"Out of the way, Cannon Fodder. I need to see Ditzy."

"Actually, I'm Grazing Fodder."

Pinkie paused. "Oh. Sorry." She grinned. "Tell Cannon I said 'Hi.'"

The twin smiled. "Don't worry, it happens all the time. Mrs. Doo is in her office."

A few minutes later, her mein of urgency reestablished, the party pony barged into the indicated room. "Ditzy. Big news. We gotta talk."

The pegasus looked up, one eye staying on her paperwork. "Can it wait? I'm in the middle of writing a letter that officially doesn't exist."

"Nope. Sorry. Time of the essence. Remember that thing in the park with the guy?"

"The giant, vaguely humanoid guy made of pointy chrome?"

"Yeah."

Ditzy gave the earth mare a flat look. "No, I completely forgot about the horrific being from beyond darkest nightmare."

"No sarcasm, filly, we don't have time for it."

"What's the rush?" The blonde paused as the pieces came together. "Oh. We're doomed, aren't we?"

"Kinda, yeah. Not set in stone. Not yet, anyway." Pinkie paced about the office. "Point is, I'm going to try to undoom us as best as I can, and I'm on a clock. You know how Creepy-Chromey is apparently Phyrexian?"

"He did mention that, yes."

"Well, it's Invasion Two: Equestrian Boogaloo, and this one didn't come with millennia of prep time. I'm gonna go track 'em back home and go crazy-go-nuts. You stay here and call in the super-secret cavalry. Cool? Cool. See ya."

"Wait!" cried Ditzy. She frowned. "I understand that we don't have much time, but why are you in this much of a hurry?"

Pinkie went still. For a brief time, she said nothing, made no motion beyond breathing. Finally, she looked her friend in the eye and answered, "Glistening oil doesn't get along well with the planeswalker Spark. I need to go before I can't."

With that, the party pony vanished in a rosy, six-pronged burst.

Most readers have, by this point, either begun to wonder how Pinkie knows that she's been slipped glistening oil or have already attributed it to Pinkie Sense, fourth-wall awareness, or a combination thereof. The truth is rather more complicated than that and lies in the nature of the Elements of Harmony.

Most Equestrian arcanists believe that while the Elements are one of the most powerful magical forces in the world when brought together, each by itself is little more than a pretty bauble. This is only partially true. The physical Elements are simply foci for that incredible force, channeling, containing, and directing it. However, the metaphysical Elements, those aspects nigh-inseparably attached to their Bearers' souls, carry great individual potential. The trick lies in knowing how to use it.

In nopony is this potential better demonstrated than in the Bearer of Laughter. More than any other Element's, the magic of Laughter, or thaliamancy, operates on its own peculiar principles. The Order of the Lampshade of Damocles, codifiers of the narrative conventions of existence, encapsulate these laws in what they call "the Rule of Funny." That is, as long as it's funny, it doesn't have to follow any other rules. Pinkie Pie (who, like many pre-Mending planeswalkers, once spent several decades browsing the Order's archives without realizing even a day had gone by,) understands this Rule better than any other inhabitant of Ungula. As such, she had been an incredible thaliamancer even before becoming the Bearer of Laughter. Now that she is soulbound to the Element, she obeys the limits of reality only when she feels like it.

As has been noted, elemental Laughter embodies all laughter, from the innocent and mirthful to the cold and cruel. It also encompasses comedy, from the knock-knock joke to the sublime absurdity at the heart of existence. Most pertinently, this wide field includes certain forms of dramatic irony. In short, Pinkie knows that she's been infected because we knew and she didn't.

If this doesn't make sense to you, that's because, like most Laughter magic, it doesn't make sense to nearly anyone. If it does make sense to you, you may have potential as a thaliamancer yourself.

Once in the Blind Eternities, Pinkie Pie breathed a sigh of relief, for a given definition of "breathed." The portals' æther trail, the passage they carved through the space between worlds, was wider than Sugarcube Corner. The eddies of primordial chaos had done little to wear it away. She easily followed it back to its source.

When she got to that source, her relief gave way to dread. It certainly explained a lot, but that didn't make the realization any less horrifying. With a heavy heart, the party pony left the Bastard Plane for perhaps the last time in her life.

When she regained her bearings, she was exactly where she'd thought she'd be. Corroding chimneys belched noxious vapors into air already thick with them. A layer of greenish-purple sludge swallowed her legs and brushed against her belly. Three suns hung in the sky, with hints of two more on the horizon. Pinkie Pie had tracked the invaders to the Mephidross. New Phyrexia was the plane formerly known as Mirrodin.

Any mourning she might have planned on for the bygone Mirrans was cut short by the sound of motion disturbing the gunk. Hunched figures began to gather around the earth pony, sallow flesh clad in lead and gunmetal. Spouts on sides, spines, and joints hissed as they released necrogen gas, tiny recapitulations of the chimneys in form and function. Yellowed teeth gnashed in anticipation of the meal.

Pinkie sighed. The nim. Of course. Just because the plane was under new management didn't mean that the zombies were going anywhere. If anything, it probably encouraged them. Well, that suited her just fine. After all, her one-pony counterstrike had to start somewhere on this world of metal.

Hmm. Now there was an idea.

The muck around the planeswalker bubbled and seethed as she called down mana from the red sun overhead. Pinkie's coat darkened to a shade somewhere between wild cherry and fresh blood. As she felt her blood begin to boil, a manic grin spread across her muzzle. "Your attention, please! This is the 9:03 express to Crazyburg now departing! And believe me, folks, this is gonna be a short trip. ALL ABOOOOARD!" The call trailed off into maniacal laughter and, somehow, the low throb of a bass.

As the nim continued their shamble towards the party pony, she began staving in their leaden skulls with her bare hooves. "Ay ay ay!" went her battle cry. An electric guitar cut in from beyond space and time. As the zombies fell by the dozen to the earth pony's assault, she began to sing, her carefree cadence blended with an oddly melancholy undertone. "Crazy, but that's how it goes."

Down went a flight of imps, knocked out of the sky by a well-aimed corpse. "Millions of creatures living as foes.

"Maybe it's not too late," she speculated while using an undead goblin as a bludgeon, "to learn how to love and forget how to hate."

She threw her improvised weapon to the ground and leapt skyward, channelling more magic. "Poisoned wounds unhealing, life total's the same..."

In every sense, she exploded into the chorus. "I'M GOIN' OFF THE RAILS ON A CRAZY TRAIN!"

Ditzy knocked on the door, then began to fidget. She couldn't help it. This was a genuine emergency, and now the fate of the world might depend on how fast a pony took to walk to her front door.

The pegasus was about to knock again when the door opened. A mint-green unicorn stood on the other side, clearly puzzled by the mailmare's presence. "Ditzy Doo? If this is about that subscription to Finger Fancy, that's for a friend. In Cloudsdale. Her name's, um... Skyra." There. The perfect alibi.

Ditzy chose not to comment. Instead, she simply said, "My wings are so pretty."

Lyra shuddered, then went still for a moment as the trigger phrase went to work. A blink, and her posture subtly shifted. "Come on in." The mares entered the house, and when the hostess next spoke, her tone was all business. "What's the situation?"

"Extraplanar invasion. The first wave has already been repelled, but more are likely on the way. Twilight Sparkle has been compromised and is currently off the grid. It looks like she's in the middle of a bulk teleport; took Spike and the whole library with her. Destination uncertain."

The ETSAB agent bit back a curse. "Hit us right where it hurt the most. Can't be a coincidence. Do you know how they got that kind of intelligence?"

Ditzy wingshrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. Pinkie's gone to make trouble on their end. Hopefully it'll buy us some time. Still, we may want to consider evacuation."

Lyra shook her head. "Aside from the logistic concerns, the Princesses would never agree to it except as a last resort. We'll have to—" Another knock at the door. "Hang on."

She answered the knock. "Hello?"

"Let's fly to the castle."

"Already active, Doctor. Ditzy beat you to it."

"Told you," a blue unicorn said smugly to the brown earth stallion.

"Yes, yes," he groused in a similar Braytish accent. "Now is hardly the time, though. May we come in?"

"Please." Lyra moved out of the way and the hourglass-marked duo proceeded.

The mare nodded to the pegasus. "Mrs. Doo."

"Colgate. Doctor."

"Right, that's hellos taken care of," the stallion said impatiently. "Now, we've got a rather massive situation on our hooves—"

Lyra interrupted. "Extraplanar invasion. Ditzy was telling me."

The Doctor gave a brief nod at this. "Well, it is her area of expertise, after all. I suppose you both know about Miss Sparkle's disappearance, then?"

"No, what happened?" Everypony jumped at this fifth voice. A third unicorn mare, yellow of coat and orange of mane, lay on a sofa, concern in her eyes. Her cutie mark was a silhouette of a pumpkin, patches of yellow forming a stylized question mark over it.

"Miss Cake, how many times have I asked that you announce yourself as you enter a particular region of spacetime?" asked the earth pony.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. "I was going to after you finished talking. Now what's this about Aunt Twilight?"

"She's gone rogue," answered Colgate. "And, depending on who you ask, stark-raving mad."

"She wasn't already?"

Despite herself, the blue mare grinned. "Yes, well, that's why it depends on who you ask. In any case, she appears to be in the middle of a hyperspace jaunt, so we'll have to wait for her to come back out before we can address her. In the meantime, we've got reports of unpleasantries from here to the Drackenridge."

"The griffins are letting us know something?" exclaimed Ditzy.

"Comes as a surprise to me as well, I assure you."

"They've got Diamond Dogs flooding out of the woodwork," elaborated the Doctor. "Er, stonework. The point is, the burrowers are being driven to the surface and the griffs aren't pleased about it. Of course, we're rather more concerned about what's driving them out, but they haven't bothered to ask."

"So what's the plan?" asked Lyra.

The stallion drew himself up. As ranking officer in Ponyville, logistics were his duty. "We're mobilizing every able body. And when I say 'we,' I mean the Bureau as a whole. And the Guard, Day and Night. Officially, this is a preparedness drill. Unofficially, Equestria is in a state of emergency, and it's only going to stay unofficial until Their Highnesses get an official statement ready. We personally will be marshaling the Ponyville militia."

The pegasus frowned. "There is no Ponyville militia."

"Well, yes, that's admittedly a bit of a complication, isn't it? Right, recruit the militia, then marshal it."

"But only after that official statement," noted Colgate. "Otherwise everypony will just think we're a pack of loonies."

Lyra frowned. "Speaking personally, most ponies already think I'm a loony. And not without reason."

"I don't exactly have the best reputation either," noted Ditzy.

"As far as they know, I'm still gumming rubber chickens," added Pumpkin.

The Doctor sighed. "Very well. Agent Minuette and I will legitimize you as best we can as part of the recruitment process. Miss Cake will obviously need an alias of some sort, especially once her contemporary self returns from visiting her grandparents. The official statement should be delivered by noon tomorrow. I'll arrange for something afterwards with the mayor."

He took a deep breath. "I won't lie to you all; I am genuinely afraid. But I have the utmost confidence in each and every one of you. I haven't the slightest doubt you will do us all proud. We'll give these rotters what for, and..." He facehooved. "How long has Pumpkin been gone?"

Lyra blinked, confused. "What pumpkin?"

"I hate it when she does that," groaned the stallion.

"When who does what?" asked Colgate.

Out of respect for the circumstances, Ditzy held back a giggle.

The Elements each resonated with the oil in a different way, altering its influence even as they felt it. For most of the Bearers, this was a subconscious process, which is why they had such interesting dreams that night.

Rainbow Dash dreamt of a land without a sky. A ceiling of metal restrained the inhabitants, and no one looked up. Endless toil demanded all attention, and no one rested. Demands and expectations loomed, and no one dreamed.

But beneath this nightmarish existence, hearts railed against their confines. Unrest simmered in the molten heat, and unease flowed like the liquid metal. Though monstrous, the strange beings who dwelled here felt. They thought. They cared. And they didn't know what to do about it.

Most caring of all was their leader, though he dared not admit it. He offered refuge to those driven from their homes by his siblings. He avoided those siblings rather than admit his uncertainty. He questioned the results of what he had been told he wanted. And like his subordinates, he tried to bury these doubts and insecurities in furious labor. Alas, they always came back, no matter how hard he ignored them.

Loyalty felt for these unfortunates. They could not follow their hearts without betraying their kin. They could not behave as others said they must without denying their own souls. They stood paralyzed, trapped between freedom and duty, with no way to reconcile them.

The workers called for one who would dare to aid them, a motivator who could balance the demands of self and others, an iconoclast confident enough to point the way and say "This is what is right." They called for one to teach them to reach for the sky. "We are Hidden," they said to the stunt flier. "Will you help us be Awesome?"

Rarity dreamt of a wide savannah that glittered in the light of five suns. Wide stretches of polished metal shimmered like a vast mirror, and her sleeping mind admired it and herself through it.

Then came the despoilers. Hideous creatures of exposed meat and cracked porcelain, of black iron and dripping oil. This last they spread everywhere, indelibly staining the shining land. Foul carbuncles that seeped corruption rose in its wake like acne on the skin of an embittered teenager, her foalhood innocence lost and forgotten. Valiant defenders rose against the monstrosities, but skill and nobility were cut down by sheer numbers and rebuilt to serve those against whom they had fought so courageously.

When there was no one left to defend beauty, the hideous forces cried victory and built temples to the foulest of them all, a vain fool who thought herself like unto a goddess. She preached unity, and they sewed themselves together. She preached belonging, and they made more of themselves from those few who still resisted. She preached selflessness, and they purged individuality.

This clownish priestess had taken Generosity and warped it into a justification for genocide. She gave what was unwanted and would not accept, would not consider the possibility of her own error. She basked in an echo chamber of praise, mindless acolytes hailing her absent grace, her vacuous wisdom, her nonexistent nobility. She knew nothing of nuance, of subtlety, of consideration. And worst of all, she believed her own PR.

Beneath its foulness, beneath the capering ninnies who danced upon it, the glimmering expanse begged for reason. For thought. For moderation. It pleaded for one who knew how to bring forth true beauty of the soul and the body, who could give what was genuinely needed, not only what she was willing to bequeath. It asked for one who could heal it, restore it, make it truly whole. "The Cenobite has broken us," it said to the designer. "Will you be our Synthesist?"

Applejack dreamt of a forest that made the Everfree look like a park in comparison. There was nothing there but hunger, the hunger of a million bellies crying out for nourishment and a million minds enslaved to them. This wood was not wild. It was feral. Once, its denizens had been content, but now there was nothing but predator hunting predator in a savage spiral of self-consumption.

With a start, she realized that the wood was not even wooden. There was no plant life here, no bottom link to ground the food chain. Crude parodies of tarnished copper and moldering steel stood in for the basis of all ecology. Without vegetation, everything else was in an eternal state of strife and chaos. The land needed plants. More, it needed a planter.

Instead, it had a bully. A brute. A cruel demon who cared nothing for the misery of those he supposedly led. All he concerned himself with was his next meal. Worse was his lieutenant, who had once fought for truth before she was perverted into the chief perpetrator of the imbalance of nature. Both saw anything beyond a desperate struggle for survival as weakness. They wanted to cull anything good and decent from life. They not only denied the truth of how nature worked, they sought to redefine it to suit their beliefs.

Honesty demanded that someone defend what was, what was meant to be. Not a savage who would twist life until it suited his agenda, but a caretaker who would nurture it, let it flourish in whatever way it manifested. Not a fallen traitor who had forgotten the truth she had fought so hard for, but a reliable mistress who knew the ways of the land and how to do right by it.

The forest cried out, but not in fear or ferocity. It cried out for a savior. "Hunger does not speak for us," it said to the farmer. "Will you speak for Vigor?"

Pinkie did not dream, for she was already in the depths of the Mephidross. Her mind's eye did not need to see the noisome necrogen gas billow from the leaden chimneys, for her body's eyes were doing that quite well on their own. And in any case, she was currently operating on a cocktail of sugar, red mana, caffeine, and certain other alkaloids that made sleep physically impossible.

Thus, she could see for herself that what little society there had been in the fetid morass had disintegrated. The scavenging Moriok humans had been enslaved and retooled into living instruments of death. The nim were roving killers who had taken a quantum leap in monstrosity under the auspice of the glistening oil. Vampires had been torn apart, the choicest bits integrated into ever-thirsting abominations. And those were just the creatures who had gotten in the way.

The true Phyrexians were divided amongst themselves in a seven-way civil war, each of the Steel Thanes driven to prove his, her, or its philosophy on the true path to ultimate power was correct by eliminating all competitors. Omniscience, politics, fearmongering, flesh-loathing, oil hoarding, omnicide, and eternal self-destruction all clamored for supremacy with little actually being achieved. Frankly, thought Pinkie, it was a miracle that the thanes had put aside their differences long enough to win the war.

In any case, she knew they all had it wrong, all for the same reason. It wasn't power that was important but what was done with that power. Using it simply to accrue more power was self-defeating; eventually there would be no more power to be had, and then what? No, what was best is to use that power to maximize happiness. After all, who didn't want to be happy? Who didn't like getting what they wanted?

Well, Pinkie was going to test that last one. After all, what better way to demonstrate the flaws in the thanes' arguments than through demonstration? She wouldn't do it for the land. It didn't give a flying femur one way or the other. She would do it because it would be fun. "Whispering has gotten you nowhere," the party pony said for the sake of parallel structure. "I will show you what Partying can achieve."

Fluttershy didn't dream either, though for much different reasons. She was too busy retching.

Horses are physically incapable of vomiting. That didn't stop her. It only made the already unpleasant sensation all the more unsettling, since it had never happened to her before. Angel Bunny, to his credit, held back her mane as she paid her respects to the Porcelain Throne.

While each of the other Elements had some opening through which the oil could make itself more palatable, Kindness was completely antithetical to Phyrexia. For hours, the two had warred for Fluttershy's mind, body, and soul, and the Element emerged triumphant. Unfortunately, that meant the oil had to be purged, the sooner the better. Hence the unprecedented Technicolor yawn.

Eventually, around two in the morning, the last stubborn trace of the foul substance had been expunged. The gentle pegasus collapsed, exhausted, her mouth filled with a taste worse than any she could imagine. Angel flushed the toilet and fetched her a glass of water.

Fluttershy gave her companion a weary smile. "Thank you, Angel."

The rabbit smiled and stroked her mane as she washed out the aftertaste. Both fell asleep there on her bathroom rug shortly afterward.

As for Twilight, she was far too busy to sleep. After all, she had a student-teacher conference to plan.

Spontaneous Musical Number XWW
Instant
Reveal cards from the top of your library until you reveal X cards or an enchantment card. If you reveal a enchantment card this way, you may put it onto the battlefield. If you do, you may put X verse counters on that enchantment. Put the rest of the revealed cards on the bottom of your library in any order.

Biding Time 2U
Enchantment
At the beginning of your upkeep, proliferate.
When you cast a spell, sacrifice Biding Time.
"Vorinclex is right about exactly one thing: Sometimes it is best to allow one's plans to advance themselves."
—Jin-Gitaxias, Augur of the Core

Visible Symptoms

Applejack woke up and immediately wished she hadn't. Every muscle in her body was in pain. Even her ears felt tired. She hadn't felt this worn out since that disastrous one-mare applebuck season, and she hadn't even done anything yet!

Well, the day she let herself stay in bed because of a little soreness was the day you could stick her in a rocker, give her dentures, and call her an old nag. No offense to Granny Smith, of course. Still, she was a farmhoof, and her hooves had farming to do, no matter what the rest of her tried to say on the matter.

So, muscle aches and all, she went downstairs like any other day. "Mornin', y'all."

Apple Bloom's voice answered her from the kitchen "Mornin', AJ! Y' sleep okay?"

"Good enough." Her stomach interjected. Loudly. The orange mare blushed. "Reckon Ah could use some breakfast, though."

"Then get yer lazy carcass in here an' help!" cried Granny Smith.

"Yes ma'am!"

Dash awoke with a drawn-out yawn, her usual regimen of early morning stretches, and a wince as those stretches brought out a burning pain in her chest. It wasn't lactic acid buildup, (what, she wasn't allowed to know how her own body worked?) but it was equally familiar.

"Ugh, no more chili dogs before bed," the speedster told herself. There was heartburn, and then there was this. It felt like that one escape scene from Daring Do and the Alliterative Ankh, except her stomach was filling in for the lava-filled Citadel of Saimstartinsaund.

Dash's fond recollections of the pulp heoine were interrupted when she noticed something weird on her mattress. Were those...? No. No, they couldn't be. That wasn't possible. It was too late. Or too early. Or... something, she didn't know. The point was, there was no way there were that many feathers on her bed. Sure, the occasional plume now and again, but this? This looked more like... Like...

Doubt began to gnaw at the mare's confidence. Hesitantly, she spread one wing and took in much more ragged plumage than she'd had when she'd gone to bed. Dash swallowed the growing lump in her throat and tugged lightly at a primary.

It came away without the slightest pain or resistance.

The lump hit her stomach and kept going, leaving a yawning pit of anxiety. "No." She checked the other wing. Just as ragged, just as weak. "No."

It would seem odd for somepony who already lives in clouds to scream to the heavens, but Rainbow Dash did it anyway. "NOOOOOO!"

Certain things were understood to be constant in the Apple farmstead. The sun rose in the east. Unpicked Zap Apples vanished in a burst of electricity. Big Macintosh got the last flapjack at breakfast.

Applejack's brain knew all of this. Her stomach had apparently forgotten the last one, and worse, had gotten a foreleg to conspire with it. That was the only explanation she had for why she was currently trying to stare down her big brother as each of them stabbed a fork and staked a claim on the precious foodstuff.

Apple Bloom and Granny Smith glanced at one another nervously. The tension was thick in the air. It felt like the silent contest of wills would last for an eternity.

Finally, Applejack broke the stalemate with a grin. "Wanna split it?"

Mac considered this for a moment. "Eeyup."

The other Apples breathed a sigh of relief. Unstoppable force and immovable object would not meet. Not this day. Still, the status quo had irrevocably shifted. The pebble had fallen. It was anypony's guess what manner of avalanche would result.

"Mmph." Rarity winced as she inched her way out from under her covers. In her current discomfort, it felt like their luxuriant thread count had dropped by half. Every motion of a leg, from shoulder and stifle down to the pasterns, ached.

The designer allowed herself a smirk. "The last time I was this sore," she mused, "the circumstances were much more enjoyable."

Eventually, she got herself out of bed, only to gasp as she tried to stand up. She collapsed, then moaned as even that brought on further pain. "Can't even support my own weight," she thought aloud. "This is not looking good for you, old girl. Maybe if I..."

Rarity struggled back to her hooves, gritting her teeth and locking her knees until the aches faded from daggers in her joints to a background burn. Now that she could focus, she enveloped her legs in sapphire energy. Relaxing the makeshift splint on her front left leg, she took a step forward. Then she bolstered that support and repeated the process with the back right. Front right. Back left. Front left. Back right.

Of course, the moment the fashionista had a rhythm going, she was faced with her next challenge for the day. "Stairs..."

Fluttershy awoke in her bathroom and panicked for a brief moment before the events of the night came back to her. The memories came as relief. She didn't think that she was the kind of mare who'd go barhopping until the point of total blackout, bring home a strange stallion, and be forced to live with the decision of a moment for the rest of her life, but she didn't really know for certain. It was nice to see that that wasn't the case.

She looked around for Angel, only to find a note taped to her muzzle. Her eyes crossed in a way dangerous to those with weak hearts, she pulled the memo away from her nose.

Fluttershy,

Went to rally my people to arms. Will be back by dinner. We're out of milk.

Angel

The gentle pegasus wasn't quite sure what to make of this. She knew her friend was no ordinary bunny, but this seemed a bit outside of her expectations. Well, at least she knew what she needed to pick up at the market today. So considerate.

Further reflection was interrupted by a cottage-shaking assault on her front door backed with an anguished cry of "Fluttershyyyyyy!"

The pink-maned mare hurried to the door. Upon opening it, she recoiled a bit in surprise. "R-rainbow Dash?"

Her brash friend looked terrible. Her mane lacked even the signs of cursory maintenence the speedster usually provided. Her eyes were bloodshot and still moist with tears. Her usual cocky demeanor had been replaced by a wallow in misery that Rarity would be proud of. And her wings. Oh sun and moon, her wings...

Fluttershy snapped into action. Relatively speaking. "Okay," she cooed, "come on in and tell me all about it."

Dash sniffled as she entered the cottage, dignity discarded in her depression. "What's to tell? Just look at me, Shy."

"Molting is a perfectly natural phenomenon—"

"Yeah, in early spring. We did Spring Suspension, like, two weeks ago. I'm not supposed to be molting for almost another year." The blue mare shoved her muzzle distressingly close to her friend's. "Don't you know what this means?"

"Um, well, it could be, I..." Maternal instincts, social anxiety, and fillyhood crushes, reflected some detached part of Fluttershy's mind, do not mix well.

"I'm gonna be wingbald! Barren! Plucked! I'm not gonna be able to give a flying feather 'cause I won't have any feathers and I sure as hay won't be flying!" Dash leapt for the couch and buried her face in her forehooves. "My life is ruined!"

The yellow-coated pony hesitated. What did you say to somepony who was being denied her special talent? How did you comfort Loyalty when her body betrayed her? "It's... it's not as bad as that—"

The younger pegasus looked up. "No, you're right." Fluttershy allowed herself a moment of relief. She quickly regretted it. "It's worse! I'm not even gonna be a pegasus anymore! I'm gonna just be some weird earth pony with a pair of freaky mutant legs! I won't be able to get back to my house! I glided out today 'cause I was afraid I'd lose more feathers if I flapped!" Dash sniffed and looked to her friend. "C-can I crash here? Forever?"

"They'll grow back."

"And who knows how long that'll take?"

Fluttershy sighed. She loved all her friends, she really did, but sometimes it was hard being one of the few ponies with any degree of sense in her social circle. "I'll be right back."

The blue mare shot her puppy-dog eyes that would've melted the heart of anypony who hadn't helped so many actual puppy dogs. "Y-you're just gonna leave me here?" She averted her gaze, glowering at a floorboard that had apparently offended her. "Fine. Go. See if I care."

"I'll be right back, Dash. If you're going to be staying here for a while, you should have some of your things to make you feel a bit more at home."

The speedster's head swung back, astonished and apologetic. "Y-you mean I can stay?"

"Yes, but while I'm at your house, I want you to go to the hospital." Fluttershy frowned at her friend's growing uncertainty. "This could be serious, and I simply don't have much experience treating ponies."

"But—"

"No buts, Rainbow. I want you back in the sky as soon as possible, and I'm sure you do too. The best way to do that is to get yourself looked at by a professional." She wasn't quite using The Stare, but Fluttershy's expression made it clear that she would brook no argument.

"...okay." Despite herself, Dash chuckled. "Thanks, Shy. Don't know what I'd do if you didn't keep my hooves in the clouds sometimes."

Fluttershy beamed. "It's what friends are for," she said warmly. "If you'd like, I'll go with you. For moral support."

"Could you?" The tomcolt caught herself and cleared her throat. That had been a bit too eager to be cool. Okay, she'd been a quivering pile of uncool since she nearly bust down the cottage door, but still. "Um, you know, just so I have somepony in my corner. If you feel like it. I mean, you wanted to get some stuff out of my house too, so you better go do that first." She paused and allowed herself a small, vulnerable smile. "But if you get done with that quickly, I guess you could try to see how I'm doing..."

If anything, the pink-maned mare's smile widened. Rainbow Dash being concerned with her image only meant she was already on the road to psychological recovery, if not physical. "Of course."

Applebloom left home, saddlebags packed for school, when a peculiar sound played against her ears. Though even Granny Smith's time-honored method of instinctual baking had not revealed the filly's special talent, she was still an Apple, and nature and nurture had both etched a degree of hereditary knowledge into her. The sound was close to an apple being eaten, but it was strangely... off.

The redhead glanced at the sun's position in the sky. She had a few minutes of wiggle room. She cantered to the source of the sound, next to one of the trees closest to the ranch. "Applejack?"

The mare turned at the sound of her name and swallowed. "Oh. Mornin', AB. Ain'tchya s'pposed t' be of t' school by now?"

"Ah got a few minutes 'fore Ah'll be late." The filly's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "So what were ya eatin'?"

"Eatin'?" Applejack's muzzle scrunched and her eyes darted from side to side. "Um, Ah..." She stopped herself and sighed. "Shoot, why am Ah gettin' all worked up over somethin' silly as this? Ah was just havin' a li'l snack. Didn't quite have enough at breakfast."

Her sister gave her an incredulous look. "But you an' Big Macintosh looked like y'all was gonna hoof wrestle fer the last flapjack! Yer still hungry?"

"'Fraid so," admitted Applejack. "Just had m'self a li'l grass, somethin' t' top me off."

"Uh huh." Bloom's tone matched her deadpan expression. "So how come there's splinters in yer teeth?"

"Huh?"

"Sis, if yer that hungry, just fix yerself somethin' else in the kitchen. Granny won't mind none." The filly gave her sister a peck on the cheek. "Ah gotta get goin'. Last day an' all. Love ya, sis!"

"Love ya." As Applejack watched her sister gallop off, her tongue worried at her teeth. Sure enough, there were bits of wood in there. The farmhoof looked behind her. There was a strip of bark missing from the tree next to her. She didn't remember eating it, but given the evidence...

"Somethin' ain't right here."

From Exploring the Æther for Fun and Profit, by Anna Kata
Chapter 8: Applied Translocation

The High-Mass Hyperspace Conveyor

This spell, as its colloquial name of "bulk teleport" implies, is optimized for masses far beyond those that can be conveyed through the use of the basic spacial wink. The required magical output is proportional to the square root of the transported mass rather than directly proportional, and is proportional to the square rather than the cube of the conventional distance between the points of departure and arrival.

This exponential reduction in required mana is the direct result of how the spell works. Rather than creating a short-lived hyperspacial tunnel between the two points, the bulk teleport moves its target along the transitional æther, the outer "skin" of the universe. (See Chapter 2: Structure of the Universe.) As a result, while greater mass can be carried across greater distances with this spell, the transit time is greatly increased as well. Rather than the nigh-instantaneous spacial wink, a bulk teleport can take anywhere from several minutes to several hours to deposit its cargo, depending on mass, distance, and the fickle behavior of the transitional æther itself. This unpredictability is one of the primary reasons why this spell has not seen widespread use in transportation.

While the bulk teleport usually requires less total magic to cast than the spacial wink, it is strongly recommended that a caster be confident in his or her ability to cast the wink before attempting this spell. The more elaborate ætheric manipulations are not for the amateur translocator. If entering and/or leaving somewhere outside of Equestria or regions with similar wards to guard against the potentially disastrous effects of translocular miscasts, this recommendation becomes imperative.

Note that the peculiar spacial, temporal, and magical properties of the transitional æther may result in anomalies in long-term magical items and effects. Examine all teleported artifacts and enchantments for abnormalities after arrival.

The citizens of Canterlot liked to think of themselves as a worldly group. Not callous or numb, just blessed with enough experience to find very little surprising. They lived in the same city as the mares responsible for guiding the heavens, after all. There weren't many events that could impress somepony like that.

Judging by the reactions in the Public Gardens, one such event was a gigantic tree appearing out of nowhere. Another was a dragon stepping onto that tree's balcony as though it were about to deliver a public address.

It was obviously a dragon. It simply couldn't be anything else. It stood bipedally, twice the height of a pony. Its scales were a dark indigo somewhere between a midnight sky and an old bruise, highlighted with bright acid green along the stomach and spinal crests. There was a serpentine aspect to it from the shoulders up: a sinuous neck, an elongated muzzle, a thin sable mustache. The rest of the body was unusually thin for such a creature, giving it a half-starved appearance. Its forelimbs were structured like the arms of a minotaur, taloned hands at its sides. Its legs were like those of the great tyrant lizards of the equatorial jungles, its long tail lazily sweeping from side to side as it kept the dragon balanced. Strangest of all were the wings, if they could even be called such. They sprouted from either side of its spine where its neck met its shoulders. Their shape was the familiar batlike curve one would expect, but there were no further digits or membrane within. Instead, there were green-glowing orifices at the elbow joints. Small flames licked out from them in time with the creature's breath.

The creature casually walked off of the platform, and the purpose of the bizarre not-wings became clear. Twin gouts of green flame blasted downward as it fell, slowing the drop and allowing it to land with barely a thump. Once on the ground, it walked to the door in the tree and opened it, looking for all the world like a bizarre parody of the doorpony of an upscale hotel.

What strode out of the doorway was, if anything, even stranger than its draconic attendant. It was pony-shaped and -sized, a casual glance making it appear to be nothing more than a lavender unicorn mare. Then the details, the deviations from the norm, began to register. Silver shone on her hooves, flowing up her legs here and there like a stretching axon or an exploring slime mold. A hint of the same was visible now and again in her tail, as though the flesh beneath the hair had become metal. Her horn was similarly metallic, in addition to being longer and sharper than was acceptable for polite society. A crown of some sort rested on her head, or perhaps it extended from it. The line between jewelry and scalp seemed oddly blurred. Most disturbing of all were her eyes, matte spheres of solid black, swallowing any light that fell into them.

She turned those empty orbs to the reptile and nodded to it. "Thank you, Spike."

"Of course, Mistress," answered the dragon, its subdued baritone resonating in the listener's bones nonetheless.

The murmuring of onlookers rose to a new level. The coloration and cutie mark had suggested it, the name of the dragon all but confirmed it, but such an idea was unthinkable. Surely this aberration couldn't be Twilight Sparkle? What could make this from the redeemer of Nightmare, the vanquisher of Discord, the daughter of Celestia in all but blood? What had she done with the Element of Magic?

The unicorn looked around as though noticing the growing crowd for the first time. She smiled, revealing teeth that seemed more like a mouthful of needles, and her voice boomed at near-Royal volumes. "Greetings, citizens of Canterlot. When I first left you, I was a hermit, more concerned with hoarding knowledge than using it to enrich the lives of ponykind. When I last left you, I was hailed as a heroine, a paragon of Magic and Harmony, but I was still in so many ways a naive child, blind to the ways of the world."

She strode towards her audience and they parted before her like fog in a stiff wind. "Now," she continued, toning it down a bit given her proximity, "I come to you enlightened, augmented, compleated. I come as a prophet of purest Harmony, of greatest Magic, of ultimate Friendship. My friends, I travel the road to utopia. Will you walk with me?"

The crowd talked amongst itself, concern and confusion rampant. Finally, one stallion dared to address her directly. "What's wrong with your eyes?"

Twilight was, for a moment, nonplussed. Her smile, when it returned, was a bit less self-assured. "There are some cosmetic sacrifices to be made," she conceded, "but that is a small price to pay for—"

The crack in the dike grew, and no foal's hoof would stem the tide.

"What's with your hooves?"
"Is that a horn extension?"
"Are you blind, or have you just not looked in a mirror lately?"
"What's the name of the cult?"
"When's the movie coming out?"
"Does your dragon wax his mustache?"

The Bearer of Magic nickered in frustration, muttered "Fillystines," and turned back around. To Spike, she said, "Just take us to Celestia. They are not yet ready."

"At once, Mistress," answered the dragon, kneeling down and lifting her up, arms wrapped around her belly, giving the unicorn the perfect angle for derisively glaring at the ignorant herd. A deep breath, and he rose on twin plumes of green fire, rocketing off towards the castle.

His name was Geth. Even when he'd been alive, he had understood how the world worked. Power determined status and attracted envy. The strongest ruled while everyone else gazed covetously at the throne. Given time, someone would amass power enough to overthrow the old guard, declare himself king of the hill, and start the cycle over again.

However, when Geth got his turn, he'd already figured out how to keep the next guy from getting his. It was a matter of a few simple principles. Offer a sliver of power in exchange for fealty. Make any potential usurpers work for you. Ensure that the consequences for initiative, ambition, and betrayal are very well understood. Oh, and have the one vampire in the universe work for you. That helped significantly.

This method had worked splendidly, letting him consolidate his power over the Mephidross and its inhabitants for decades. It probably would have kept working for at least another century if a certain elf hadn't gone and thrown a wrench into the whole scheme, kicking off a cascade of events that ended with the vampire population of Mirrodin increased by several orders of magnitude, the world as a whole going crazy, and Geth himself getting dethroned, decapitated, and generally disrespected. Oh, losing everything from the neck down was inconvenient, sure, but the warlord had been undead for years beforehand. Just better preserved than the average nim.

In any case, by the time things had settled down to some semblance of non-lunacy, there was a new sun in the sky, the Dross had about doubled in size, and Geth's body had been replaced by an uppity construct about as big as his own desiccated cranium. Oh, and everyone but the elf, her pet goblin, and some idiot kids had vanished from Mirrodin at about the same time that a bunch of monstrosities started forming in the inner part of the world.

Geth had seen the writing on the wall and had sided with the monsters. Call him a turncoat if you wanted, he thought of himself as a pragmatist. It wasn't like the Mirrans were offering him a new, improved body. For scrap's sake, even the elf changed teams! If all his signup bonus cost him was some lip service and the occasional genuflection towards some babbling golem, it wasn't any mummified skin off of his nose.

But, of course, things just couldn't stay nice for the poor, beleaguered Lord of the Vault. As if jockeying for position with a half-dozen assholes of varying sphincter diameter weren't enough, now there was some kind of explosive last hurrah from the losing side trying to take as many nim as it could with it to oblivion.

Well, never let it be said that old Geth had forgotten how to administer some good, old-fashioned discipline. He eased his massive, twisted form into motion, ready to deal with the upstart personally if need be.

He never expected it to come to him. "Hi! I'm Pinkie Pie."

The necromancer paused, his necrogen-pickled mind taking a moment to recognize genuine warmth and openness. "You," he said finally, "are a tiny horse."

"I prefer 'pony.' I mean, I don't call you a monkey head. Unless you want me to. Do you want me to, Mister Monkeyhead?"

A long and productive – if briefly interrupted – lordship over Ish Sah, the Vault of Whispers, literal and figurative seat of power in the Mephidross, left Geth wholly unprepared for the enigma that was Pinkie Pie. So he decided to disregard said enigma and try his usual methods. "What do you want?"

"Wow, you don't beat around the bush, do you, Mister Monkeyhead? What do I want? What do I want?" The mare pondered this for a moment. "Ooh! Do you have any jellybeans?"

"...What."

"Hmm, guess not. What about taffy?"

Geth sighed. "Look, I'm a busy corpse. If you're not going to make a serious request, either leave or die. You'd make a nicely unique nim."

The party pony's enthusiasm seemed wholly unaffected by the explicit reference to her demise. "Oh, you silly willy legendilly! Those were serious requests. Candy is serious business." Her smile and voice both suddenly took on a sinister undertone. "But then, so is praetorship."

The zombie was silent for a moment, trying to work through the non sequitur. "You're joking. You're joking, right?"

"I'm as serious as a flagrant breach of contract, Gethy-boy, and with all the attendant consequences."

Geth grudgingly admitted that it would've been a good taunt coming from something he could take seriously. Soul contracts were his tool and weapon of choice these days, spelling out in no uncertain terms the myriad ways in which he owned his co-signatory. As it was, the attempt at intimidation just got a chuckle out of his leathery lips. "'Pinkie Pie,' was it? What exactly do you think you're doing? You're a tiny pink horse trying to intimidate something twenty times your size. The only reason I haven't squished you like a bug is that you're amusing me. What do you hope to accomplish here?"

For all the menace Pinkie had called to bear, her smile itself was still the warm and innocent thing so familiar to Ponyville. "What do I hope to accomplish? Well, when I've got enough demolition charges spread throughout the building to set off a chain reaction of necrogen vapor fuel-air explosions that will send this heap of scrap tumbling into the core of the plane, rather a lot. Especially since they're tied to a deadpony switch."

The Lord of the Vault scoffed at this. "An empty bluff, and a terrible one at that. Even if it were true, you can't make good on the threat without killing yourself."

The mare smirked. The Vault shook. A greenish flare burst into brief existence overhead and a misshapen hunk of metal hit the floor exactly one foot from Geth's right legs. "My family harvests rocks for a living," noted Pinkie. "My mama has two experstises: Pickled beets and precisely aimed demolitions. I learned from the best, Moriok. Still willing to call my bluff?"

Geth glared at the presumptuous pony. Oh, now he was in familiar territory. He brought a massive arm up to bear.

"Deadpony switch, remember?" chided Pinkie.

"Who said you'll be allowed to die?"

The earth pony sighed, rolled her eyes, and blew up the floor behind her adversary's throne. Conveniently enough, his bulk was just the right shape to shield her from the shrapnel. "None of that, Gethy-boy. The charges are insurance. You and I are going to..." and here she smirked; "negotiate."

Susan Unity Pie was by no means faint of heart. If some ponies had nerves of steel, hers were of titanium. She had faced down rapacious Diamond Dogs, hungry geopedes, and even peckish migratory dragons without even blinking. Of course, petriculture-grade explosives made for an argument few could refute.

Still, when her heart leapt up into her throat while she was doing nothing more than sitting on her front porch, she knew something was wrong. "Clyde," she said to her husband, "where's Blinkastasia?"

The old stallion gave her a querulous look. "Should be out in the east field about now."

"Incantessa?"

He shrugged. Without ire, he answered, "Either in her apartment in Manehattan, pretending we don't exist, or living in sin with that unicorn harlot she thinks we don't know about."

"And Pinkamena?"

"What's this about, dear?"

Sue shook off the chill her preternatural senses were sending up and down her spine. "One of our daughters has just done something incredibly foalish and dangerous, and I want to know who."

Clyde sighed. "Probably Pinkamena, then."

Most beings capable of flight still sought audiences with Celestia through conventional means, i.e., the Day Court. Very few of them had the lack of tact, patience, or sense that would send them directly to her balcony. It said quite a bit about Twilight's current mental state that she chose that very approach to her mentor. So did her casual dismissal of any pursuing Skyguards in swirls of magic that sent them back to their barracks, along with a greasy little surprise in each one's blood.

In any case, Spike landed on the balcony with only minor scorch marks on the landscaping, knelt, and released his mistress. She walked through the glass sliding doors as if they weren't there – a quantumantic manipulation so simple a toddler could do it, assuming that said toddler had access to the Star Swirl the Bearded Wing's restricted codices – and considered the princess's quarters. The unicorn had only been here a few times in her life, when Celestia wanted to focus less on applied sorcery and more on philosophy, on the burden of power, the proportional responsibility that came with it, and other such pap.

For pap it was, when it came down to it. Oh, power shouldn't be an excuse for tyrannical bullying, of course, but it also didn't automatically come with chains of servitude. Power was simply a tool. For good or for ill, what really mattered was what the powerful made of it.

Twilight knew what she wanted to make of hers, and she suspected Celestia did as well. Still, she had learned her lessons well, especially those about making assumptions. She was going to check, and this was the sort of fine, nuanced matter that was better discussed through a live audience than letters, even those expedited by dragonflame.

"Princess?" called the mare. "Are you here?" It was entirely possible that she wasn't. Probable even, unless she was taking her lunch in her rooms today.

A reply came in the form of an understandable question. "Twilight? What are you doing here?"

Ah. Luck was on her side. Good. She wouldn't have to expend the energy necessary to convince it. "I take it you received my last letter?"

"Yes, I was just meeting with Luna and Shining Armor." Celestia came into view, resplendent as always. "I was actually about to send you a reply when—" She stopped, stunned by the changes wrought in her faithful student. "Twilight? What in Equestria has happened to you!?"

The unicorn smiled, needleteeth arranged in beautiful parallel lines. "Is it not glorious, my Princess? I have borne witness to an expression of Harmony greater and more pure than any I could have ever conceived. And I can make that vision a reality!"

The sun deity seemed displeased, judging by the blast of solar plasma she launched at the mare. The look of righteous fury was also something of a tipoff. "I do not know what you have done with Twilight Sparkle, demon, but you will live to regret it."

Despite her near brush with vaporization, Twilight seemed more intrigued than afraid. "Wait, demons are real? Interesting..." Her ruminations were cut short by having to dodge another bolt of unfathomable heat. "Princess, please! It's really me!"

Celestia sneered. "I've seen better disguises from blind changelings, fiend. Now face the consequences of daring to impersonate my pupil!" A ball of sunfire gathered at the tip of her horn, building in size and intensity until it was a white-hot melon-sized orb of incandescent fury. With a cry that had spelled the end of countless denizens of the Pit, the alicorn launched it at the purple pony.

Said purple pony did more than watch this spectacle, of course. She projected a hair-thin ray of fuschia light from her own horn, skewering the miniature star like a superheated cocktail olive. The fireball went from white to blue, then burst into harmless sparks. Twilight looked at her mentor with a blend of worry and awe. "The Nova Gloriosa. I... I've read about that spell, but I've never... You really don't think I'm me, do you?"

It was the same expression once worn by a filly who had insisted that she was only getting that second cookie for Smarty Pants. Celestia slumped to her haunches, horrified. "Twilight? H-how can this be?" She looked around the room. "Where are the other Bearers? Where is Spike?"

"My friends and I may have come to a bit of a disagreement on the fruits of my labor," Twilight admitted sheepishly. She quickly perked up. "Oh, but Spike is right here!" She unlocked and opened the balcony doors with a thought. "See?"

The princess did, much as she wished she couldn't. Spike, the darling little wyrmling she had entrusted to and with her student, had been twisted into something the alicorn had never before seen in all her millennia of life. "What has done this to both of you?"

"It is the essence of the enemy we warned you about," explained Twilight, "but I believe that by uniting it with the magic of Friendship, we can turn it against its former masters. It seeks to unify, to support, to perfect. It seeks Harmony! Think of what we could do with such power, Princess! Imagine what ponykind would be capable of!"

Celestia was unimpressed. "But would we even be ponies anymore?"

Her student pressed on. "Would it matter? What if this could make us better?"

"Better according to whom? I have never dared to exercise my authority in such a way, Twilight. Are you saying that you would act as the arbiter of equinity's future? That you know what is best for every mare, stallion, and foal in this nation?"

The unicorn considered this for a moment, weighing her ruler's words against her earnest convictions. Finally, she looked Celestia in the eye and answered, "Yes. Yes I am."

The sun princess shook her head. "It pains me to hear you say that, my student. I never thought you of all ponies would fall so far." Once more, the diarch's horn shone with the brilliance of the noonday sun. Her eyes welled with tears of regret even as they glowed with celestial power. "I'm sorry, Twilight."

The young mare bowed her head. "As am I, Celestia." She then looked back up and spat forth a torrent of viridian ooze.

Taken aback, the princess launched the half-formed petrification spell to waylay the gunk. Amazingly, the bolus of energy only seemed to encourage it. The light sank into the slime, which rapidly multiplied thereafter.

From there, it took only the slightest brush against the alicorn's coat to seal her fate and her body. Once contact was made, the glop flowed over her body with blinding speed, forming itself into an ellipsoid and solidifying in the blink of an eye.

Twilight smiled, the green glow fading from her eyes as the changeling magic finished shaping itself. "I know I've thanked you countless times for letting me try to dig through Chrysalis's unconscious mind when we were looking for Cadence, but I don't think I ever gave thanks for my exposure to an entire race's magical knowledge all at once. It was a learning experience in every sense of the phrase."

Her grin grew smug. "It's almost amusing, isn't it? Such a simple spell, and yet it can render a living goddess utterly helpless." She began to pace around the cocooned princess. "As with any changeling magic, it feeds on the love of its victim. But you, you are so incredibly full of love and compassion, you care so very, very much for your ponies, that you make the spell almost indestructible."

Celestia couldn't speak, submerged as she was in the foul ooze, but she could look upon her student with a mix of anger and disappointment.

"It's depressingly easy to dispel such a construct," continued Twilight, "even from the inside. You just have to not care. But you can't do that, can you? You couldn't be apathetic about your subjects any more than the sun could will itself to stop shining. That's why I love you, you know. That unquenchable, irrepressible love for each and every one of your ponies. Even me. Even now."

The unicorn's expression was tricky to quantify. There was a measure of smug triumph there, yes, but also compassion, adoration, a student's pride, even pity. It was, in a word, complicated, as were the feelings fueling it. "Don't worry, Princess. The Guards will find you soon enough. They should even be able to unseal you in short order. But when they do, well, I'd recommend ceding solar management to Luna while you recover. No hard feelings, but now that I know that you don't approve of the new me, I need you out of the way for a few days, and I'm pretty sure the best method wouldn't work on you."

After a departing kiss on the stiff membrane, Twilight turned and went back to the balcony, Spike following in her wake. "Enjoy your break, Celestia. I'll see you soon."

And Celestia, Princess of the Sun, Regent of the Day, Mistress of the Waking Hours, could do nothing more than watch as her faithful student flew off, her soul becoming ever more tarnished.

Celestia's Ire XW
Instant
Celestia's Ire deals X damage divided as you chose among up to X target attacking and/or blocking creatures.
"A declaration of war on my little ponies is tantamount to one on me personally, and it will be answered as such."
—Celestia, Princess of the Sun

Spike, the Blight Dragon 2UBR
Legendary Creature — Dragon Minion
Flying; infect
Whenever Spike, the Blight Dragon deals combat damage to a player, you may pay 2U. If you do, draw a card for each poison counter on that player, then discard half that many cards, rounded up.
B: Regenerate Spike.
R: Spike gains haste until end of turn.
3/3

Immune Response

Dash sighed, mentally preparing herself as best she could. "Okay, Doc, what's the damage?"

Doctor Stable, Ponyville's premiere professional physician, frowned to himself as he set down a clipboard stuffed with impossibilities. "That's actually a very good question, Miss Dash. I'm afraid your condition is simply unprecedented."

Whatever the speedster had expected, this wasn't it. "What!?" She leapt off the examination table. "But... but you gotta know! You're the doctor!"

"I'm sorry, Rainbow Dash, but I'm only equine." He smiled. "The good news is that I can conclusively rule out all of the possible diagnoses you proposed during your scans. Including the ones you made up there and then."

The mare blushed. "I... It's just that, these are my wings we're talking about, you know? I couldn't live without them. Literally. My house, my job, my talent... Without wings, I'm just..." She trailed off, insecurity and ego coming to a stalemate.

The doctor nodded solemnly. "I understand. Fortunately, while I can't give you a diagnosis, I can tell you my findings." His gaze drifted to the floor. "I should warn you, though; most ponies find this... unsettling."

Dash wingshrugged, holding back a wince at the odd weight distribution. "I don't think I can get much more unsettled today, Doc. Go ahead."

"Very well." Stable shut his eyes and focused, his horn glowing with magic. An image of the blue mare formed in front of him, surrounded by the same turquoise aura.

"You can summon awesome ponies?" asked Dash. "Wow. That's gotta come in handy."

The stallion chuckled. "Not exactly. This is a composite image formed from the scans I performed earlier." With a grunt, he brought a second illusory Rainbow into existence next to the first one. "And this," he continued, a bit out of breath, "is the composite from your last visit."

The pegasus could see the differences between her dopplegangers' wings. "Huh. Wait, why didn't you show me this back then?"

"This spell requires a considerable amount of my magic," explained Stable. A bit of desperation leaked into his voice. "If I may continue?"

"Sure."

"Just so you know, this is the unsettling part." The images spread their left wings. Dash couldn't help but wince at the more obvious differences between her wings in their prime and... well, now. Everything other than those wings faded away and the limbs arranged themselves such that the old was positioned above the current.

"This isn't tellin' me anything, Doc," grumbled the mare.

Stable opened his eyes to give her an impressed look. "You know, most ponies have a rather more averse reaction to seeing their bodies virtually vivisected."

Another wingshrug. Another suppressed shudder. "It's just some magic picture. It's not the real me."

"I guess you won't mind this part, then." The wings faded, leaving only identical networks of thin tubes visible.

Dash gulped. "Okay, um... that's actually kind of creepy. You must be a big hit on Nightmare Night, Doc."

The physician would be lying if he didn't feel a small amount of satisfaction at this. "In any case, what you see here is your pteronal hemocirculatory system. That is, the blood vessels in your wing. As you can see, they have been unaffected by your sudden molt."

The mare nodded. "Makes sense. Not like I've been bleeding or anything."

"Yes, but this is where it gets strange." On the top wing, a shimmering outline of Dash's wing was overlaid on the vessels. On the bottom, a thin line led from the base of the wing to an angry red lump where her knee would be on her leg. "I've added your thaumocirculatory system, the internal leylines that allow your personal magic to flow through your body. In pegasi, it's normally closely linked to the heart and blood vessels. In the wing, it forms an invisible field that supports the limb and provides an additional boost in flight. That's what you're seeing in the upper image."

"Right..." Dash vaguely recalled something along those lines from flight school. Not she ever really paid attention during those particular classes. Still, she didn't need to be an anatomy expert to see that that wasn't the case in the lower image. "So what's up with my thaumowhatsit now?"

"It appears to have, for lack of a better term, collapsed. The entire wing's magic is focusing itself in the metacarpals, resulting in your current state of dishevelment. In short, Miss Dash, you're molting because your wings are being starved of magic."

The pegasus was briefly speechless. Finally, she asked, "Wh...what can do that?"

"As I said," noted Stable, "I don't know. I've never seen anything like this. The entire medical community of Equestria hasn't seen anything like this. Miss Dash, you have the dubious honor of being the first to ever exhibit this condition."

Rainbow gave a humorless laugh. "So I get my name in the history books after all. Just not how I wanted." She paused, biting back sobs until she felt she could keep talking. "I guess you wouldn't know how to cure this."

"I'm terribly sorry, Rainbow Dash." His expression made it clear that he was. "I don't even know what's caused it. I couldn't begin to advise you on treatment. Anything I might prescribe could easily make things worse than they already are."

"Huh. I... I guess that's it, then." Dash hopped down from the examination table. "Thanks anyway, Doc."

Stable chewed the inside of his lip. He couldn't just see a patient leave without a trace of hope. "Could I ask you to come back in a week?"

"Why?" The mare didn't even look up from the floor as she asked.

"Observation purposes. I've only gotten a single look at your condition, Miss Dash. Seeing how it progresses over time could prove invaluable."

Now she looked at him. "Do you think it will help?"

No. "Very much so."

Their eyes met. Both could see that the other put no stock in any future appointments. Still, hope is a strange thing. "...Sure."

Applejack had her chores finished in record time. It only served to unsettle her further. Farm work was supposed to be hard labor and she'd breezed through it like she was watering a window box. It just wasn't natural.

Neither was her appetite. She'd kept a careful watch on herself to make sure she didn't go biting trees again, but she'd still grazed so much over the course of the morning she felt she ought to apologize to the cows. Then she still managed to pack away more than usual at lunch, and half an hour later, she was as hungry as if she'd had Canternese.

Some other pony might've decided to go by Ponyville General at that point, but not Applejack. It wasn't that she distrusted modern medicine, she just had a hunch that this was something pills and powders couldn't lick. Thankfully, that hunch did happen to say who might be of assistance. It made sense, really; when faced with an unnatural complaint, go to the least natural place she knew, the Everfree Forest. More specifically, Zecora's hut. If the zebra could diagnose everything from poison joke to draconic puberty, surely she'd have some idea of what was ailing the farmhoof.

The striped mare smiled as she saw who'd knocked on her door. "I have been expecting you, embodiment of all that's true."

Applejack blinked, impressed. "How'd y'know it was me?" She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Y' sure y'all don't have some kinda 'Zebra Sense'?"

Zecora smiled and moved back into her house, gesturing for her guest to do the same. "I do not see through ESP you ponies in the Everfree. Truth be told, I was not sure whether you were my visitor."

"So that was just a lucky guess?"

The shaman shrugged. "Informed by gait, informed by smell. Perhaps a bit of luck as well." She sat by her cauldron. "What brings you here, my orange friend? An illness or a wound to mend?"

Applejack kicked at the dirt floor. "Ah wish it were just a social call, but Ah'm afraid y' hit it on th' head."

Zecora nodded. "Describe your symptoms, tell me all. What malady has you enthralled?"

The farmer slumped to her haunches. "It's plumb crazy is what it is. Ah jus' cain't stop eatin'. Apples, grass, heck, Ah even ate the bark offa poor innocent Decidua!"

"Hmm. I can see why you'd think it crazy, given compulsive xylophagy." The zebra noted her friend's blank look and smiled sheepishly. "Oh dear, more technical than good. It means the consumption of wood."

"Figgered as such." Applejack sighed. "Fancy words ain't tellin' me what's wrong, though."

Zecora shook her head. "Hunger alone? I cannot tell. How else are you feeling unwell?"

"Well, Ah had some awful muscle cramps when Ah woke up, like Ah'd been tryin' t' harvest th' whole darn orchard by m'self again."

The shaman quirked an eyebrow. "Soreness where you're strong? I see. Everywhere or locally?"

"Everywhere an' then some. Ah felt sore in places Ah didn' even know Ah had."

Zecora stood, nodding to herself. "Rise, my friend. I now suspect what befell you. Now to detect." Once Applejack obeyed, she added, "For both our sakes, please do hold still. Remember, I mean you no ill."

It wasn't easy, and at times it was downright awkward, but the earth mare managed to keep herself motionless throughout the series of pokes, prods, and assorted manipulations. Once through the gauntlet, Applejack asked, "Well, are ya gonna tell me what's wrong, or should Ah have had ya buy me dinner first?"

The zebra frowned, briefly muttering her native language under her breath. Finally, she sighed and answered, "It makes no sense, and yet it's true. You're somehow becoming more you."

Applejack tilted her head in confusion. "Care t' run that by me again, Sugarcube?"

"I've never witnessed this before, but it explains why you are sore. Your magic's growing like a weed, and so more food your muscles need."

"Mah magic?" The orange mare took a long look at a foreleg. Sure, she knew magic wasn't limited to just unicorn horn-glowing, but she never really thought of herself as magical. "So what did y' mean when y' said Ah was becomin' more me?"

"Your body grows as though a foal to hold your quickly growing soul."

Wow. That sent matters to a whole new level of weird. "M...mah soul?"

Zecora nodded. "Your soul expands. I know not why. In such affairs, I should not pry."

Applejack scoffed at this. "Pry away, missy! Ah wanna know what's doin' it! An' fer that matter, jus' what t' expect from all o' this!"

The zebra sighed and gave the pony a sympathetic look. "I do not know the cause, alas, nor can I say what comes to pass. Your Element and your resolve could both be making you evolve, or something strange we do not know could cause your greater self to grow." A thought came to her. "Is this an isolated change, or have your friends been feeling strange?"

The earth mare paused for a moment, then cuffed herself in the head. "Of all th' empty-headed, addle-pated... You bet yer stripes they've been feelin' strange! Twi an' Pinkie've gone positively nutso! Both of 'em up an' vanished yesterday!" She groaned. "Ah cain't believe Ah was so caught up in mah own problems that Ah forgot about them..."

Zecora laid a sympathetic foreleg across her shoulders. "Your self-concern is far from queer. You can't help them if you're not here."

"Ah guess..."

The shaman nodded, satisfied. She moved among the gourds hanging from the rafters. "Now tell me what, how, when, and why with Twilight and with Pinkie Pie."

"Well, Twilight done science'd 'erself inta somethin' like whatever it was that attacked th' town yesterday—"

Zecora stopped in her tracks and whirled on the other mare. "Gentle Ponyville attacked? Why did you not mention this fact?"

Applejack backed up a few steps. "Ah... Ah guess fer th' same reason Ah fergot 'bout Twi an' Pinkie. Too darn concerned with m' own hide t' think about it." She looked down. "Sorry."

The zebra relaxed. "I'm sorry, too. I was too curt. Tell me, was anypony hurt?"

This got a shake of the head. "No, thank Celestia. 'Parently, Rarity of all ponies took down a whole darn army by 'er lonesome."

Zecora stared at her as though she'd grown wings. "The seamstress and designer mare destroyed a force without a care?"

"Oh, she felt plumb awful 'bout it afterwards. Kept insistin' there was some better way. Far as Ah'm concerned, endin' them nasty things was doin' 'em a favor."

"'Nasty things'?" Suddenly, the zebra was an inch from Applejack's muzzle. "My friend, you mean monsters like which you've never seen?"

The farmhoof gave an uneasy nod. "Well, yeah, that's a good way o' puttin' it."

Zecora bore the darkest expression Applejack had seen on her since riding Rainbow Dash through the hut. "We've no more time for pleasantries, to chitter-chat and shoot the breeze." She returned to her various botanicals, purpose in her every move. "We've graver matters to discuss, the ancient feud of Them and Us."

The orange mare was now completely lost. "Say what now?"

"I speak of conflict and of war. Of horrors I have seen before."

Applejack looked at the zebra in a new light. "Y-y've been in a war?"

"The homeland of the zebra race is not always a peaceful place, and I have found that wars will brew in lands without a god or two." Zecora caught herself and turned back to her friend with an apologetic smile. "I place no insult, Applejack, on sun or moon or on your back. I only mean you're ill-prepared, and that will not mean you'll be spared."

The farmhoof smirked. "'Tween Nightmare Moon, Appleoosa, an' Discord, Ah've seen mah share o' action."

This got a flat look. "This is not one foe to defy, nor one that will be stopped by pie. The coming fight will not be fought by only heroes and their lot. All must resist or all is lost, and all will pay the final cost."

Well, there went any confidence Applejack might have had on the matter. "Whaddaya mean?"

"Saying this brings me no pleasure. Our foes are cruel and without measure."

The orange mare flailed for hope. "Th' Elements—"

"Harmony's a potent tool, but it alone? Don't be a fool! We must strike hard, we must strike fast, or else this gentle land won't last."

Applejack gave a frustrated nicker. "Well, alright then, General. Whaddaya say we do?"

"The plan's simplicity itself," answered Zecora, filling a pestle with a selection of esoteric herbs. "We strike down the commanding elf."

The farmhoof considered this strategy for a moment, then voiced her chief concern with it. "The hay's an elf?"

The lagomaths of the Everfree were by and large a peaceful, contemplative race. Though the life of an individual hyper-intelligent rabbity thing was relatively brief, the race's society was a proud and ancient one, supported by countless generations of artists, philosophers, and thaumaturgists. They preferred to distribute themselves through the forest rather than form large communities, but there was one exception. The capital and only city of the lagomaths, Smadadrachir, or "Most Excellent Seat of Wisdom and Tranquility," was Angel Bunny's destination.

Smadadrachir was somewhere between an ant colony and a dwarven city in terms of complexity. It was not built but burrowed, three dimensions of twisting tunnels and expansive chambers forming its vast subterranean cityscape. Lagomaths wandered freely, demanding as little in the way of privacy or personal space as one would expect from a race of telepathic rabbits. Through this same mental faculty, almost everybunny knew one another by face and name, despite their sheer magnitude.

Angel, however, was not just anybunny. He was Archon of Virtue, Who Punches Evil in the Face. The Champion of Kindness. Liaison to the Equine Races. Master of the Sixfold Path. He was the greatest lagomath of his generation, having already accomplished more than rabbits twice his age. As he hopped through the city's tunnels, passersby stopped and stared. Mental whispers susurrated through the air.

Finally, one doe got the courage to come face to face to the great buck. "Archon?" (Technically, she said his entire name in a single elegant pulse of thought, but only the first word will be used for the sake of brevity.)

He turned his gaze to her and his expression softened. "Compassionate Steward of the Glorious Future. How have you been?"

Steward gave a small, shy smile. "W-well, thank you. What brings you to Smadadrachir? I thought you were busy with the ponies."

"It is a matter of the gravest urgency. Hop with me." The two proceeded downward, towards the deepest chamber of the burrow-city. "The leylines are in flux again, but in a way I have never before seen. Not the crazed convulsions of the Great Chaos breaking free, nor the spilling of their banks when Harmony gained physical form. The closest comparison I can draw is in the hours before the return of the Darkhearted, the darkening of the energies as though in anticipation of night eternal. But it is not the same."

Steward was but a simple caretaker of kits, but she easily recognized somebunny in need of a sounding board. "What are the differences?"

"There is a sense of intent this time. As the lunar seal broke, magic darkened, yes, but there was no feeling behind it. It was a simple reaction, no different than shadows lengthening in the setting sun. But now..." He shook his head. "It is most worrisome. There's is a will here, a malicious awareness."

"What can we do?"

Archon sighed. "I will bring it to the attention of the Council of Warrens. Hopefully, they'll be able to see past their own noses and recognize the threat for what it is."

The doe frowned in concern. The Council was wise, yes, but consistently insular when it came to interaction with the other intelligent races. "And if they don't?"

The champion smirked. "I will have said my piece for everybunny in the council chamber to hear. Even if the Councilors choose to block their ears to my warning, there will surely be those who do not."

Steward audibly gasped. "Y-you mean rebellion?"

"I mean doing what is right, no matter what some self-important grayhares think."

The pair came to a halt at the mouth of a tunnel. On its other end was the Council. Archon resolutely stared down the passage, then turned to his companion. She flinched at the intensity of his gaze. The two had been friends since they were nameless kits, barely able to form a coherent thought. In another life, perhaps they...

No. No regrets. No torturing himself with "what if"s. He would earn his name anew this day. There was evil out there, ephemeral, subtle evil. If he could not punch its face through action, then he would do so with words.

He briefly rubbed noses with Steward, stunning her with the sudden intimate gesture. "Wish me luck, my friend."

She waved as he descended to the very bottom of Smadadrachir. "Good luck... my love."

Twilight could see why Rainbow Dash loved flying so much. The sense of freedom, the wind in her mane, the oddly sweet smell of the exhaust firing out of Spike's pteracubital blast ports... It really was quite exhilarating.

The indigo bubble that suddenly popped into existence around the duo really killed the mood.

Despite of her new source of entertainment getting interrupted and getting dropped in the ensuing collision, Twilight couldn't help but smile. "Shining Armor. Right on schedule. Do you see him?"

"The walkway to your right," rumbled Spike, rubbing his snout after ramming the shield.

"Ah, there he is." One magical voice amplification later, the mare called out, "Hi, Shiney! Long time no see!"

The captain of the guard was too far away to see his reaction. Given how the shield bubble was moving towards him, he was apparently going to correct that.

As they drifted towards the stallion, the feeling of enclosure began to gnaw at Spike's nerves. "I could simply consume the barrier."

"Best we keep that ace in the hole for the moment, I think."

"Very well." One of the dragon's feet began to tap impatiently against the shield's surface. "I could attempt to overwhelm it with a blast of flame."

Twilight's grin grew a bit fonder. "You may be fireproof, my dear assistant, but I am not."

Spike took a deep breath, trying to settle himself. They were nearly next to Shining Armor now. It wouldn't be much longer. "You may want to work on that in the future."

"Consider it on my to-do list." By this point, they were a few feet away from Twilight's brother, so she immediately followed this with nodding in his direction and asking, "So, how was the honeymoon? I heard Luna got the wrong idea and tried to pour syrup on you guys."

The stallion scowled at her, apparently in no mood for banter. "What in Celestia's name do you think you're doing, Twilight?"

His sister paused to consider this for a moment. "Huh. That's a surprisingly deep question for you, Shiney. I thought you always told me not to get too bogged down into navel-gazing. I mean, does what we think we're doing have any bearing on the actions themselves? Or are we—"

"Don't be obtuse, Twilight." The mare wasn't sure, but she didn't think she'd ever seen her brother this angry. "This isn't you and me goofing around on a weekend afternoon. This is the captain of the Day Guard ordering a citizen and suspected traitor to the crown to explain her actions."

"Traitor to the crown? Me?" The younger unicorn snickered a bit at the sheer absurdity. "I, Celestia's personal student, one of the twice-over saviors of Equestria, the only pony who even suspected something was amiss during the changeling invasion of Canterlot, am a suspected traitor to the crown?" She stuck her tongue out at her brother. "Shiney, I think that helmet's on too tight. Are you even listening to yourself?"

"Have you looked at yourself?" countered her brother. "You send the Princess a letter warning of half-metal monsters from another world that want to assimilate us, and then you suddenly appear in Canterlot, half-metal and spouting nonsense like a madmare. What am I supposed to think?"

"Firstly," began Twilight, "I'm only seventeen percent metal. At the moment. Secondly, just because certain parallels have developed doesn't mean I'm not still committed to protecting Equestria from this threat. I'm just been made open to more... unconventional tactics."

"You can't become a monster to fight monsters, Twiley," insisted Shining.

She frowned. "Oh, don't you paraphrase Neightzsche at me."

"I'll cite whatever philosopher I want!"

"Ahem." Both siblings were dragged from the edge of a knockdown, drag-out nerd fight by a very displeased pink alicorn. "Twilight."

"Cadence," replied the infected mare, a slight grin on her muzzle. "Perhaps you'd like to help me help your husband see reason?"

The princess moved next to her beloved. "I was actually planning on doing just the opposite."

"Oh. That's a shame. Well, maybe next time. Spikecatchme."

Before either of Twilight's captors could so much as blink, her horn gave a faint glow and a decidedly non-faint hum. The bubble of energy enclosing her broke apart into motes of light almost instantaneously. At the same time, Shining Armor screamed, clutched his horn, and collapsed.

Cadence knelt by his side and directed a look of pure venomous hatred at what had once been her favorite foal to sit. "What did you do to him, you monster?"

"Monster this, monster that," sighed Twilight, safely nestled in her dragon's arms. "Honestly, can't I change my look without torches and pitchforks coming into play? Spike, set me down."

Her assistant gave the alicorn a wary look. "Are you sure, Mistress? They say Tartarus hath no fury like a mare scorned..."

"Care to test that little aphorism with me, assistant?" Twilight was immediately placed on the walkway, her confident and mildly unsettling grin unchanged from when she posed the question.

She turned to Cadence. "As for what I've done to my brother, don't worry. I'm sure it hurt quite a bit, but there won't be any lasting harm. I just emitted a pulse that resonated with his personal magical signature, resulting in a nasty feedback effect in both his spells and his thaumic cortex. He'll be fine in a few hours." She shrugged. "It's hardly the first time I've emulated his signature. Mom used to ward the cookie jar against my telekinesis." Her smile took a turn for the sinister. "Nothing stops me, then or now."

The princess glared at her, wings flared. "I will."

The younger mare raised an eyebrow. "Really? No offense, Cadence, but... really? I mean, Shiney's bad enough. Shields don't win battles, they just keep you from losing. And then they break. And then you lose. But you? Sure, your love magic is impressive. Even kind of creepy if it ever fell into the wrong hooves. But I'm doing this because I love all of you. Because this is all for the best, and you know that if you just trusted me." Twilight gave a rueful smile. "Sorry, Cadence. You may have an edge on capacity, but when it comes to what you can do with it, against me, you don't have a leg to stand on."

The alicorn took all of this with no reaction. Finally, once Twilight had presented her conclusion, the older mare shook her head and smiled. "Oh, Twilight. Always so sure of yourself. So confident that you've got all the information you need and no wrong assumptions that might distort it." She sighed. "It really is you, isn't it? Well, let me stand in for Aunt Celestia for a moment, because I'm about to teach you a very important lesson."

A tingle ran down Twilight's spine. Anxiety gripped her heart. There was something wrong here. That much was obvious. But what? She swallowed the growing lump in her throat. "Go on..."

Rosy energy began to build along Cadence's horn. "You see, Twilight, love is much more powerful than you gave it credit for. Don't feel bad, most ponies make the same mistake. They think, 'Oh, love. It's all just goo-goo eyes and sweet talk. It's harmless.'" The pink energy spread to her eyes, making them glow from within. "Except they're wrong."

Some part of the unicorn was vaguely aware that standing where she was might not be the most tactically sound action at this point, but her curiosity got the better of her. "Then what can love do?"

"Friendship is magic, Twilight Sparkle. Love is power. Pure, unbridled, untempered power. The kind of power that sends knights charging towards dragons for the hoof of a captive noblepony. The kind of power that lets a mother lift a carriage five times her weight in the desperate need to save her foal. The kind of power that drives ponies to move mountains, swim oceans, do the impossible, all in the name of somepony that, to another, would just be another face in the crowd." Cadence was no longer a cheerful, unusually tall mare who happened to have both wings and a horn. She was an incandescent, vaguely equine shape forged from solid fuschia light. Her voice echoed with sounds ranging from an infant's coo of adoration to a lover's moan of ecstasy. "Love is a battlefield. Love can bring us together and tear us apart. And as the physical embodiment of its power, love is all I need."

The blast was more felt than heard, more emotionally than tangibly. It was a heartache, a sense of deep regret and reluctant resolve. Tears moistened the eyes of every thinking creature within half a mile of Castle Canterlot, and almost none of them knew why.

"Well, Celestia, this is a fine mess she's gotten us into, isn't it?"

The alicorn couldn't speak. She couldn't even open her mouth without flooding it with the foul slime that imprisoned her. She could, however, think. Discord. What do you want?

"What, I can't check in on my dear niece now and again?"

Your what?

"Well, at the time, we agreed that it would be kind of creepy if we thought of me as your father, but... Oh right, the whole 'shattered sanity making you forget your formative years and recreate them whole cloth' thing. Well, at least that was good for a laugh, right?"

Celestia was certain. This was Hell. Twilight had simply killed her, and now she would spend eternity helpless, suspended in filth, and tormented by the voice of her nemesis. It was the only logical explanation.

"Oh, please. You want Hell? Spend a few millennia as a public toilet for pigeons, then talk to me about Hell. No, my dear, you are still very much alive, and a good thing, too. I haven't the slightest idea who or even what the Element of Cunning would pass to were that not the case."

Oh. Is that what this is about?

"Well, to be frank, yes. Yes it is."

Celestia gave the most derisive snort she could imagine. All this, just to have me under your thrall.

"Oh yes, obviously." She could almost hear the draconequus roll his eyes. "I orchestrated my defeat and disassembly scant hours after my unsealing, the resonance of one of my Elements specifically with your soul out of a billion, give or take, and an invasion by an entirely different universe all so I could get you to accept a power that I barely understand myself. Of course. How I thought I'd fool you with such a crude, transparent ruse, I simply don't know."

A low chuckle, and he continued. "Really, Celestia, if this paranoia of yours weren't so frustrating, I'd find it quite flattering. But no, I'm asking – not telling, asking – you to accept the Element because it's the one X factor that can get you out of this undignified cocoon with your power intact."

And why should you care whether I escape at all? demanded the princess. I thought you'd appreciate seeing me be the imprisoned one for once.

"Oh, make no mistake, I think this is hilarious. 'Such a shame,' I thought to myself, 'that Chrysalis never got the chance.' Did you know that she's the Bearer of Ambition? Lovely girl, far better listener than some royalty I could mention. But I digress.

"Why do I want to see you free after you sealed me in stone for more than five thousand years? Not that I'm bitter or anything, mind you. Well, suffice to say, it's fairly obvious where things are going at the moment.

"On a normal day, a friendly scrum between Twilight Sparkle and Luna would be a tossup. However, this is hardly a normal day, and when they clash – and they will – it will not by any stretch of the imagination be described as 'a friendly scrum.' Twilight bolstered by a draconic familiar and the physical Element of Magic, your sister hampered by high noon and the potential for oh so much collateral damage were she to cut loose? It's not even going to be close. Your so-called 'faithful student' will wipe the floor with Princess Scary Butt Fun.

"After that, with you imprisoned and your mother and me as we are, young Twilight will be, without exaggeration, the most powerful being in the universe. Worse, she will be free of the twin shackles that normally keep her in check: her own humility and the thought of your disapproval.

"From there, well, as I said, it's obvious. Twilight wins. She remakes the world in her increasingly unpleasant image. And if you think ponies had it bad when I was in charge, kiddo, you ain't seen nothin' yet. She'll take ponies apart and put them back together in the name of making them tick a bit more efficiently, and that's just for starters. I shan't impinge on your delicate sensibilities by listing what she's got planned for later."

Celestia waited a moment to make sure that the chaos spirit had had enough of the sound of his own voice, however briefly. So you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart? she asked snidely.

"Hearts," corrected Discord. "I have two. And a half. And no. I'm doing it to keep things interesting. I'm doing it because for all the horror and anguish Sparkle will sow in the name of progress, she will also do her utmost to eradicate chaos. I'm doing it because, as far as I'm concerned, this is the lesser of two evils.

"Now, I'm not asking for your service, your trust, even your respect. All I'm asking is for you to let me help you do something you want to do anyway. You already wear a lot of hats, Celestia, and most of them are crowns. I'm just offering a necklace to balance out your look. Say yes, I make this one adjustment, and then I leave you to your self-imposed duty. Say no, and you watch your surrogate daughter destroy the work of millennia in a way far worse than any I would employ, but at least you get to do it with a clear conscience. You have this one Pendant of Life and you don't even have to assemble that blasted monkey. What say you?"

Bubbles formed around the alicorn's nostrils as she gave a melancholy sigh. I'm going to regret this. I know I am. Damn you, Discord. Damn you to the foulest pits of Tartarus and back.

"Well, I could certainly use a vacation. Is that a 'no'?"

No. It isn't. I, Celestia Helia Apollonia Lumia Alicor, accept my status as Bearer of the Discordant Element of Cunning.

"Well it's about damn time."

Celestia heard a snap, then felt the weight around her neck shift. A flash of insight came to her. As Twilight noted, she couldn't not care about her people. However, she could project the cold, calculating aura of Cunning in a way that would dampen her true feelings, starving her prison to the point where she could break out. It was hardly different from the day-to-day politicking of Canterlot, just vastly more important.

As white wings burst through magical membrane, a chaos spirit watched from his vantage point in the collective unconscious. Despite himself, he smiled. "Atta girl, Tia."

He caught himself and chuckled. "Oops. Almost started to show some redeeming characteristics there. Can't have that from an antagonist, now can we?" He held the eight-pointed star that was the dormant Element of Chaos to his eyes and looked through it like a sextant. "Now, let's see how else I can inject myself into the plot..."

Discord paused for a moment, then glared in the direction of the fourth wall. "You should be ashamed of yourselves. And that's coming from me." He readjusted his sextant eightfold, muttering, "Perverts."

The chamber of the Council of Warrens was the largest in Smadadrachir, space excavated down to the bedrock deep beneath the loam of the Everfree. Were ponies able to navigate the narrow, winding tunnels above, they'd find the space to be a respectable rec room. For lagomaths, it was of an enormity suitable to the prestige of its main occupants.

Stadium seating ringed the chamber's perimeter, filled with those eager for their leaders' wisdom. The Council members sat behind a podium of packed earth positioned such that the one addressing them, not they themselves, stood in the center of the space. Audience seekers waited in a ring before the front row, knowing that no grievance was too small to bring before the council. Proper etiquette insisted that one enter quietly, go to one's left, and continue along the edge of the room until reaching the back of the line.

Archon just marched forward.

The chamber nearly burst with mental noise. Not only was this an unthinkable breach of protocol, it had been done by one of the most famous lagomaths in generations. Everybunny there knew of Archon of Virtue. If he waltzed up to the Council as though he were the first petitioner of the day, surely he carried a matter of gravest import.

Of course, that still didn't excuse him. The head of the Council fixed an unpleased glare on the daring rabbit. It was quite a glare, given the scar than ran across the councibunny's blind left eye. His name was Beacon of Glory, in Whose Light Lapinity Flourishes. He was the longest-serving, most honored Council member in the past ten generations. He was also Archon's father.

In a society of intelligent rabbits, this wouldn't matter much, but for the Council members, who served until ousted by death or dishonor, their children were watched almost closely as they were themselves. Greatness often ran in the blood, as did treachery.

"You stand out of turn, Archon of Virtue," chided Beacon.

"I know, Father." The murmuring redoubled. Speaking in so familiar a way to a councilbunny in the middle of deliberation was even more unheard of than demanding an immediate audience.

The older buck did not even blink. "Is the matter so urgent that you refuse all protocol?"

Fluttershy's protector stood tall. "I stake my name on it." This brought the background chatter to such volumes that he literally couldn't hear himself think. Names were somewhat fluid in lagomath society, titles and epithets growing with a rabbit's renown and withering in his ignominy. To wager a title as prestigious as Archon's, to risk going from a living legend to nameless as a newborn, was outright unthinkable.

The current petitioner, a brown buck who looked terribly uncomfortable with being in the same room as history taking shape, offered, "I'm willing to cede the floor."

Beacon flicked his ears. His son could tell he was holding back a smirk. With a sigh, he nodded to the champion. "Proceed."

Archon bounded into the center of the chamber, projecting his thoughts strong enough that none could mishear him. "Friends. Colleagues. Respected councilbunnies. I come here today to warn of a threat more grave than any I could imagine. The leylines of the greater world writhe and blacken. Even the heart of our home grows dark and ominous. A grim force is coming, one that we must face, but we cannot do it alone. We must do as our ancestors did in the time of the Darkhearted. We must ally ourselves with the ponies."

"What!" The lagomath to Beacon's right, a massive buck riddled with old scars, bolted up at this. "This is treason!"

The white hare looked at him coolly. "You speak out of turn, honored one."

Strong-in-the-Leg, Awesome Boulder-Cusher, seemed to care even less than Archon did. "Fine, then. What is this grim force?"

This managed to crack the champion's confidence. "I... cannot say for certain," he admitted.

"You cannot say for certain. You would have us sacrifice our integrity, our independence, for some hunch? Some fleeting shadow?" Strong-in-the-Leg sneered. "You've gone mad! Spent too much time amongst those hooved monsters! Did you forget how ponies are? They who bend every aspect of nature to their whim? Who cannot even conceive of life that can thrive without their constant oversight? Who would reduce us to mindless serfs in their overbearing ecology given half the chance you offer them now?"

"You speak to the Liaison," Archon reminded him. "I know the magnitude of what I suggest. Further, may I remind you that this is not without precedent? As I said, we fought with the ponies in the war against the Darkhearted. We were respected as equals, perhaps even as their betters. We rode them, commanding them as steeds. And when the threat passed, they respected our decision to withdraw, even removing all traces of us from their records so that future generations would not seek us out against our wishes."

The weathered rabbit bristled. "Yes, the future generations with whom you would join forces! How can you say that they will be so respectful now, after a millennium of unchallenged dominance over their homes?"

The lagomath to Beacon's right, a gentle old doe with the beauty born of a life of kindness, stepped in. "What can you tell us about this threat?" asked Clear-Eyed Sage, Who Sees Beyond the Horizon.

"I can tell you that it has already sundered Harmony."

After letting another round of shocked whispers pass, the scholarly councilbunny nodded encouragingly. "Go on."

"As you each know, as I am sure many here are aware, the Elements of Harmony, the magic that the Solarienne used to seal the Darkhearted in the moon, the foundation of the Sixfold Path, has been in the hooves of mortal ponies for nigh on two years. They are not divine, but because they are many united in purpose, they wield Harmony with greater proficiency than the Solarienne alone." Archon gave a pointed look to Strong-in-the-Leg. "I derive my title of Champion of Kindness from my stewardship of its Bearer, a mare truly worthy of the Element."

The surly buck harrumphed. "Yes, yes, I'm sure she's quite sweet for the antithesis of true nature. Your point?"

"I'm getting to that. Throughout Ponyville, the village on the edge of the Everfree, there is a noticeable aura of peace and order, even more so than the rest of the pony lands." Archon allowed a bit of amusement to leak into his thoughts. "Indeed, the town seems to attract chaotic events on a fairly regular basis, as though Harmony is seeking to correct its own imbalance."

His serious tone returned more intense than before. "However, that aura has twisted much as all ambient magic has."

"How so?" prompted Sage.

"For one, Harmony itself has fractured. Two of the Bearers have left the town, leaving that aspect tattered and threadbare. Furthermore, corruption is slowly leaching into what is left. The order of contentment and bliss is being tainted by the bitterness of tyranny and oppression."

The old doe digested this for a moment. "Is there no hope?"

Archon nodded. "There is. My charge rejected the corruption, both in body and in spirit. Kindness seems to act as a ward against this force, an antithesis, and that alone should give us pause. What manner of being is honest or generous without kindness? What horrors can be wrought by one who cannot be kind, yet laughs or feels loyalty? What unspeakable acts can be performed by purely unkind magic?"

"So you would have us unite with the ponies against such entities," summarized Beacon.

"Not only that. All of Ungula must unite if we are to repel such monsters. Not just lagomath and pony, but griffin and dog, minotaur and serpent, changeling and zebra."

"You speak madness!" cried Strong-in-the-Leg

"I speak the truth!" Gone was the champion's even tone. Now fiery passion infused his every thought. "Send any empath you care to name to Ponyville, anybunny with even the slightest mystic sensitivity to the depths of our home, and let him tell you this is not so. Let her tell you I am not still an archon of virtue!"

The scarred councilbunny seemed ready to pounce on the speaker, but Beacon laid a paw on his shoulder. "You have given us much to discuss, my son."

Archon looked at the head of the Council with ferocity unchanged. "I have given you a decision to make, Father. Are you frightened animals who will hide yourselves in your burrows, hoping that I am wrong? Or are you rational beings who are willing to fight for your survival?"

Sage gave him a sad look. "'You,' not 'we'?"

The white buck nodded. "Yes. Whatever you decide today, I will fight for the future of this world, just as I fought for it when Harmony threatened to overwhelm existence. While I hope you choose the correct course this day, I assure you, whatever your decision, you will deserve the fate that follows." With that, he turned and left.

The chamber was silent for a time, the shock seemingly beyond the gathered lagomaths' ability to express it. Finally, Beacon of Glory stood. "I am invoking the precedent set by my honored predecessor Stalwart Paragon, Who Literally Spat in the Darkhearted's Eye. This decision will ultimately decide the fate of our entire race. I must ask each of you who is not a member of this Council to leave the chamber until we come to a decision. Rest assured that your grievances will be heard, but not until this matter is settled."

Strong-in-the-Leg glowered at Beacon. Clear-Eyed Sage eyed him worriedly. As the assembled rabbits left the chamber, both knew this would be the defining moment of their long lives.

The invaders' choice of fronts was strange to the griffins. It wasn't the tallest or most prestigious mountain in the Drakenridge. They didn't even have a real name for it. They just called it "that squat one in the middle."

The Diamond Dogs knew better. To them, it was Mount Benji, one of the great Claws of the Firstpack, second only to Mount Lassie, where that sacred pantheon gave caninity the gift of digging. They knew there was a reason it was in the exact center of the range. It was old. Very old. Old as its namesake's balls, may they never be neutered. (Even at their most serious and awe-inspired, they were still Diamond Dogs.)

Another could confirm this. He was Fankraxynox, Warden of the Peaks, Drakenlord, and once, long, long ago, Luna's cute little Fang. When he was but a hatchling, she had told him of when the now blunted peak was the true Drakenhorn, first spire of the range, the current holder of that name but a foothill in the shadow of the older mountain's uneroded glory. Now, it may have diminished on the outside, but it still held the same deep power within.

Unbeknownst to any of the denizens of the mountain range, it was that very power that had drawn Urabrask's portal to it like a magnet. Few really cared since why it was happening wasn't nearly as important to them as what to do about it.

That led back to Fankraxynox. The elders of the Benji Pack had beseeched him for his aid against the strange creatures who had appeared in their home and seemed dedicated to taking it away, rock by rock. Naturally, as the Drakenlord, it was the dragon's duty to come to the aid of his subjects when they were faced with a threat beyond their capabilities. Especially once they had supplied the first installment of the appropriate tribute.

Unfortunately, there wasn't terribly much the wyrm could do. The monstrosities were keeping themselves to the tunnels honeycombing the old mountain, which simply hadn't been dug for a dragon's proportions. As such, his options were limited to blowing fire down the entrances and try to coax them out into the open. Still, not even Fankraxynox had the lung capacity needed to fill the entire peak with his flames, which meant that they were just as likely to go to ground as they were to be chased into the open. Thus, he had settled in for the waiting game, something dragons were very good at.

He wouldn't have to wait long.

Council of Warrens 2GWU
Legendary Creature — Rabbit Advisor
Skip your draw step.
You have no maximum hand size.
At the beginning of your upkeep, if you have fewer cards in hand than creatures you control, draw cards equal to the difference.
3/5

Neural Pulse UU
Instant
Counter target noncreature spell. Its controller loses 1 life.
"The lack of rigor in Gitaxian research is staggering. Everywhere I look, I see missed opportunities for innovation."
—Twilight Sparkle, Gnostic Augur

Home Remedies

Once the cultural gap was bridged, Applejack went from confused to skeptical. "So, yer tellin' me that we gotta go face down some kinda fancy forest human? Ah ain't too sure 'bout a plan that hinges on somethin' out of a filly tale."

Zecora shook her head. "No tale for children, that is clear. When we first met, she was a deer."

The farmhoof tried to process this and failed. "Okay, now yer just makin' stuff up."

"Please, why would I fabricate such a desperate, dire fate? Much as you refuse to believe, this I would never conceive."

Applejack had to cede the point. The zebra might take the occasional turn for the spooky, but she wasn't the sort to blow things out of proportion or make them up entirely. "Alright, gimme the details. No offense, Zecora, but Ah ain't gonna go out an' knock heads just on yer say-so."

Zecora shivered as she thought back. "The horrors that I saw that day, I doubt I could describe. Honestly, say what you may, I'm lucky to survive. But if you would learn, orange mare, of elves and horrors too, then listen well now, if you dare, to what I say to you."

Zebra and deer walked together deep into the Everfree Forest. Deeper, in fact, than even Zecora liked to travel normally. "Glissa, tell me honestly. Just where are you taking me?"

The armored doe smiled. "What, don't you trust a fellow shaman?"

The striped mare glowered. "A fellow shaman, that you are, but you don't have my trust. In the savannahs of my home, skepticism's a must. You could be true, you could be false, I cannot say for sure, but what I see and what I hear don't match your overture."

Glissa seemed unphased by the accusation. "Your rhythm's changed."

"If I am focused on my words and how they are to match, then fear and apprehension to me simply can't attach," explained Zecora. She smirked. "If you take issue with my rhymes, you only have to say and iambic heptameter will thenceforth go away."

"Doesn't matter to me," the deer replied. "So what is it you sense that has you so suspicious?"

"The trees are twisted, creatures too, in ways I've never seen. The forest's ambiance in whole grows sinister and mean." It was true. The further they went, the more warped and bizarre the growth around them appeared. Twisting, warped bark, frequent tumors bulging from branches, strange black fluids that clearly weren't sap oozing from gouges in the trunk, and that was just one timberwolf that Zecora had caught a glimpse of.

"I suppose that's one way of looking at it."

The striped mare quirked an eyebrow. "A conclusion I have reached from what I've seen so far: You claim to be a student, but nature's mistress you are."

Glissa blinked. "'Mistress'? That's an awfully lofty title, especially for someone else to give me. What makes you say that?"

"The scent of fear lies heavy, of adrenaline and piss. Eyes peek out through the branches, and there's other clues like this. From all this evidence I can quite easily construe there's more here than a copper deer and what she says is true."

"Quite astute." Said copper deer grinned. "Very well. We're headed for a greater truth."

Zecora was less than impressed. "For a much vaguer answer my ears clearly could not long. Go pull the other leg, Glissa, it's the one with bells on."

"No, really," insisted the half-metal hart. "I admit it sounds kind of trite, but that is our destination. It's the best way I have to describe it that I know will make sense."

Zecora chewed this over for a bit before sighing. "This one last time to you I'll give the benefit of doubt, but be aware your lack of candor's exhausted your clout."

"Duly noted."

The two travelled in silence for a time, Zecora noting further aberrations in flora and fauna alike. Copper and grease seemed to be themes. Finally, they reached a pair of deer similar in appearance to Glissa, though rather more emaciated. She nodded to the nigh-cadaverous duo. "She's with me."

They knelt. "Of course, Hand," said one, any hint of gender lost to a voice like gargled gravel.

Zecora had to tilt her head at this. "They call you Hand? Now why is that? No fingers do I see. Do you serve some strange minotaur here in the Everfree?"

Glissa chuckled. "Not exactly." She walked to the space between her subordinates and bowed her head. Magic flowed from her, strange and alien, almost... tainted.

With a rumble somewhere between a mild tremor and a giant's stomach, a gash opened before the alleged shaman. On the other side was a massive briar of verdigrised towers, slavering horrors, and a stench like a butcher's shop with a gas leak. As Zecora stood stunned, Glissa moved through the divide, transforming into a bipedal figure. She had hands now. Well, claws, really. She turned, her eyes still the same liquid black orbs. "Well? Aren't you coming?"

Applejack gulped. "S-so what didja do?"

Zecora smiled. "The powders used on Nightmare Night to entertain the foals are also useful to me when I've more practical goals. When I forage the Everfree to make my daily bread, smoke bombs help make sure that I can get to keep my head."

"Huh." The description of the other side of the portal stuck in the farmhoof's mental craw. "Ah think Ah see a problem with yer plan, Zecora."

"Please my friend, do share your thoughts. I'd rather this not be for naught."

"Well, them other elf-deer things called this Glissa character 'Hand,' right? Way Ah see it, that means there's a Head somewhere we don't know about."

The zebra nodded. "Between the neck and wrist I could quite easily be wrong, but if so, then what course of action should we act upon?"

"Oh, that's simple." Applejack grinned, a plan forming. "We just need t' even th' playin' field a li'l."

"My lord."

Urabrask turned from his workbench. Prostrate before him was one of his self-styled priests. He personally disliked the term. He wasn't Norn, he didn't need adulation or worship. Still, they had insisted, and since their zeal seemed to boost their output, he saw no harm in letting them continue. "Rise. What is it?"

The compleated Vulshok brought herself up to her knees, but dared not rise further. "Workers are reporting blasts of flame along the periphery of Sector U1. We suspect the indigenous creatures have called a dragon. What are your orders?"

The praetor considered this for a moment. His decree for the Ungulans had been the same as that for the Mirrans, "Let them be." However, that had been contingent on mutual noninterference. It had held so far since the natives had fled in terror, leaving his workers to harvest minerals that, while rare or nonexistent on New Phyrexia, were common as rust there.

Now there was resistance. Not the token rebellion that the Mirrans still displayed to stoke their waning hope, but an actual threat to the operation. The Hidden One's path was clear. If he had a mouth rather than a rotary blade gizzard, he might have smiled. "It's a good thing I called in that favor from Roxith before his little accident."

The technically human woman frowned. "Lord?"

Urabrask didn't bother explaining. He knew she wouldn't ask further. "Have the squealstokers finished reverse-engineering the portal control system?" Say what you'd like about goblins, they had a certain genius when it came to artifice. An unpredictable, often destructive genius, but a genius.

His priest grinned and nodded, piecing together the praetor's thought process. "Yes, Lord. And the large-scale portal is complete as well."

"Excellent. Align the portal on a vertical axis with the entry surface pointing downward. I trust you can figure out the rest."

The priest bounced to her feet. "At once, Lord!"

Urabrask watched her dash off with something like fondness. It was nice to have a clear-cut enemy again, someone who could pose an actual threat. Seeing the Mirrans diminished to helpless refugees had caused all kinds of displeasing thoughts. A new front would surely dispel them.

He turned back to his work. Yes, Gitaxias had been right about compleating this new plane. Not that the red praetor would ever admit it out loud. It was always safe to assume one of his brother's spies was within earshot. "They bring a dragon, we bring a better dragon," he muttered to himself. "That's the Furnace way."

Dizzy Twister sighed in contentment. The weather needed no interference, her loved ones weren't doing anything worth worrying over, and she had a whole afternoon to herself. Nothing but her, her rooftop porch, a bottle of wine, and the nagging feeling that this was all about to be ruined. The knock on her front door was really little more than a formality.

The mare leaned her head over the side of the roof. "Yes?"

"Oh, there you are!" called a familiar voice.

"Oh. Hi, Dash." Dizzy sighed. "What did she do?"

"Huh?"

The pegasus matched her boss's confused expression. "Isn't this about Scootaloo?"

"No, why would it be?"

"Huh." With a wingshrug and a grin, Dizzy called, "Well, feel free to come on up."

"Actually, could you come down?" There was a peculiar tone to Dash's speech. It took the rose-maned mare a moment to place it, alien as it normally was to the brash flier: Hesitance. "It's kinda why I came here."

"Uh, sure." Dizzy fluttered down to ground level. "What is... oh." She managed to stifle the horrified flinch that Dash's wings deserved.

"Yeah, I know." The grounded stuntpony frowned at the frazzled appendages.

"Um, are you... can I... how'd..." Dizzy struggled for words, trying to balance sympathy against politeness.

"It's... a medical thing," Dash summarized. "I... I honestly don't know if I..." She couldn't say it. Saying it would make it real. Her lips parted in a rictus as she attempted nonchalance. "W-well, I'm certainly not going to be leading the weather team any time soon."

Her yellow-coated subordinate nodded. "I guess you're telling us all know in pony?"

"No, actually," confided Dash. "Just you."

Dizzy staggered back. It was clear where the blue mare was going with this. "Y-you mean?"

Rainbow nodded. "I do. Dizzy, I'm naming you provisional chief weatherpony of Ponyville."

"B-but I..."

"Hay, you make good snap decisions, you don't buckle under pressure, you already write up, like, half the schedules as it is. You're my right-wing mare. The choice was obvious."

"It's just so sudden," demurred Dizzy. "What will the others say?"

Dash waved away this concern. "Aw, let 'em grumble. Maybe if Cloudkicker wasn't so busy chasing tails, she might've gotten it. As for the rest of them? We both know that they can barely empty a cloud with instructions on the top."

"I wouldn't go that far... Still, what if they don't listen to me?"

"Then show 'em you're worth listening to!" cried Dash. "Drum it into their skulls that you're the boss! I wouldn't have picked you if I didn't think you could do this."

"I guess." Dizzy smirked. "Who knows? This might even get Scootaloo to listen to me more often."

Dash gnawed her lip for a moment. "Probably not. You're her mom, and no offense, but speaking as a former problem filly myself, moms are never cool, no matter what they do."

"Problem filly?" Dizzy echoed. "You... you mean she's some sort of juvenille delinquent!?"

Dash gave a sheepish grin. "Um, poor choice of words?"

The sound of screaming stone shook Fankraxynox out of a fond reminiscence of Luna, a pillow, and the then-recent invention of pancake batter. Shaking himself out of the memory, the dragon soon saw the source of the disturbance. The peak of Mount Benji, the apex of the old Drakenhorn, was sinking.

There was already a visible discontinuity, a bit of unnaturally straight horizontality on either side of the weathered cone. As the Drakenlord watched, the piercing screech of tortured rock became a steady grind and the peak visibly telescoped into the mountain.

Fankraxynox spread his wings and took to the air. As he approached the mount, he saw that it wasn't collapsing. From above, it was clear that the top of Mount Benji was being stolen. As the huge mass of stone descended, the dragon could see around the edges into what he knew wasn't the inside of the peak. Not unless the Diamond Dogs had started using magic that made their homes larger on the inside. Besides, the eerie, red-lit iron ambiance didn't mesh at all with their usual aesthetic.

Of course, now that that mystery was solved, the invaders were clearly offering him a golden opportunity to strike. He would be a fool not to take it. The Warden of the Peaks landed on a ledge just beneath the eerily clean slice, then shoved the top of the mountain to one side. He idly noted how the edge cut through the granite like a hot fang through gypsum and made sure his head was kept well away from the transition before expelling a massive blast of fire through it.

A satisfying bevy of screams and panic followed, though not nearly as much running as Fankraxynox had been expecting. Quite a few more lingering blazes than he'd anticipated for subterranea, though. How odd.

Any consideration he might have given the matter was interrupted by an unmistakable roar. While many things are different between planes, the behavior of dragons is rarely one of them. That had clearly been a challenge. The wyrm's lips curled in a snarl, fury and incredulity mixing in the face of such insolence. He responded with a skull-splitting cry of his own.

Regrettably, he had to cut it short, drawing his head back to avoid a spurt of dangerous-looking greenish fumes. In a plume of the same, the challenger launched himself out of the gate, hovering above Mount Benji's new interdimensional caldera.

Eyes that had learned to read the inscrutable moods of the Princess of the Night took in the newcomer. To a lesser being, it would be horrifying. Green light and mist oozed out of holes in the other dragon's body. Gray, wasted flesh hung from its bones, and that was just on the largely intact limbs. Its chest was a gaping pit surrounded by jagged, exposed ribs. Its throat was a threadbare web of tissue, leaving the windpipe mostly visible. Its wings were without membrane, seeming more like a scythelike third pair of mutated legs. How it was staying aloft was a mystery whose solution time would likely not permit.

Worst of all were the eyes, milky, dead things that nonetheless held unthinkable malice. The challenger's gaze was utterly uncaring, entirely soulless, yet still as terribly intelligent as any dragon's. Somehow, in a wheezing, breathless tone that spoke of absent lungs, it whispered, "Die." Then it pounced.

Fankraxynox pushed off of his perch just before the challenger slammed into it. He noted a gaping hole in its back beneath the base of its wings that narrowed and continued down much of its spine, seething with the green vapors all the while. "Not today," answered the Drakenlord, and he blew another plume of fire at the abomination.

It bolted away from the flame, showing incredible speed for something that shouldn't even be moving. Still, it confirmed that his fire would hurt it. It was simply a matter of hitting the damned fiend. Then, in a burst of the foul gas, it launched itself at him.

Those few Diamond Dogs still in the area turned tail. Nearby griffins had already made for less volatile territory. Dragons were dueling, and nothing was foolish enough to get in their way.

As the Ponyville members of the Equestrian Time-Space Administration Bureau took a break for a late lunch, Ditzy Doo frowned at Pumpkin Cake. The unicorn soon noticed. "What?"

"You've been casting something almost since the meeting began. I just couldn't tell what you were doing, and I can literally see magic. It kind of bugs me. So..." The pegasus paused and considered several rephrasings before simply asking, "What were you doing?"

"Oh, that." Pumpkin grinned. "I've been keeping the narrative focus off of us."

"The what?"

"Well, it's like Aunt Pinkie always says." The yellow-coated mare's voice rose in pitch to a quite accurate impression of Pinkie Pie. "As long as the planning happens off-camera, then there's a chance the plan will work. Now who wants to help me make crullers?" She paused and considered. "Well, the bit about crullers probably doesn't apply, but she does always say it."

Ditzy pondered this herself. "Oh. I see. I hadn't considered how Pinkie must've been an integral part of your upbringing. It actually explains a lot."

Pumpkin frowned. "I get the feeling that you don't actually understand what I was trying to tell you."

"I didn't. Honestly, though? I think it's better that I don't."

If nothing else, decided Geth, it had been a very interesting hour or so. "So, let me get this straight," he said finally. "All you've wanted from the beginning of this entire farce was access to the black lacuna?"

"Yuppie-duppie!" Pinkie cheered.

The zombie sighed. "Why didn't you say so from the beginning?"

The party pony's smile narrowed into more of a smirk. "What fun would that have been?"

"I know I would've had considerably more."

She pouted. "Aw, don't you like me, Mr. Monkeyhead?"

"No," Geth answered immediately.

Pinkie shrugged this off. "Aw, you don't like anyone."

"Not true. I like me."

"And that's why you'll tell me how to get inside the plane!"

Geth held up a wickedly pointed finger. "Only if you disarm all of the explosives you somehow stuffed this place with."

The mare nodded. "Which I'll do on my way down."

"And how will I be able to tell you've followed through on your end?"

"I promised!" cried Pinkie. "And I always keep my promises to my friends."

The zombie grumbled to himself for a moment. Outmaneuvered by a horse. If any of the other Thanes learned about this – and they almost certainly would – he'd never unlive it down. "Fine." With a wave of his hand, the wall behind him swung open, revealing itself to be ingeniously disguised double doors. "Right in the center of the room. Can't miss it."

Suddenly, the pony was perched on his shoulder. "Thank you, Gethy!" She punctuated her thanks with a kiss to his leaden widow's peak.

"Just get off of me and go before I decide to gut you and take my losses."

"Okey dokey lokey!" Pinkie hummed her way towards the tunnel into New Phyrexia's interior, carved out by the emergence of the black sun centuries earlier. Even now, it thrummed with the mana of death and decay, the power that had defined Phyrexia of old and still represented the very worst its new incarnation had to offer. And, oddly enough, the mana that most closely resonated with the Element of Laughter.

Pinkie grinned down at the physical Element, which hadn't left her neck since she'd realized she had been infected with glistening oil. Admittedly, heading to another universe with it in tow hadn't been the wisest of decisions, but it wasn't like she was the only Bearer who'd absconded with her personal MacGuffin. Besides, there were plenty of portals back to Equestria nearby – and deadly neurotoxin, now that she thought about it. Plus, the thaliamantic energies were keeping her mind on the light end of the dark side.

As the party pony pranced down the passageway, its magic turning gravity perpendicular to the norm, she entertained a bit of nostalgia for her darker days, back when the name Pinkamena had ranked alongside Yawgmoth and Bolas, bringing shudders of horror even to the nearly godlike planeswalkers of the time. Oh, she didn't want to go back to being a scourge of the Multiverse, especially now that she knew there was no chance of paradoxically preventing Equestria from ever coming into existence and providing an angst-based start of darkness. Still, with what she had planned – and she had actually bothered to seriously plan this time – she would need a bit of the old ultraterror. Hmm. Speaking of which...

Pinkie grinned. Oh, she always kept her promises to her friends, and since her explosives were just intangible nexuses (Nexes? Nexi?) of barely contained energy, she could make them cease to exist harmlessly and almost effortlessly. However, Geth had made it perfectly clear that he did not consider her a friend, and after Cranky, the party pony could recognize a lost cause when she saw one. Still, it wasn't like her to actually break a promise. At least, not the letter of one. And what better way to make sure the explosives were permanently disarmed than discharging them?

A thought later, a tremendous rumble shook the lacuna as the Vault of Shadows collapsed into a heap of even more misshapen rubble. A furious scream echoed down the tunnel, only to be abruptly cut short. Pinkie's grin didn't change. "One down, six to go." She considered the statement for a moment. "Two and five, actually. Heh. Sometimes enemies are even more helpful than friends."

She exulted in a warm, fuzzy feeling, equal parts satisfaction and schadenfreude. Then she stopped. Something wasn't quite right. The party pony tapped her hoof, trying to put it on the problem. She stopped the tapping soon after. That was it, that sound wasn't quite right.

Pinkie Pie looked at her hoof. Rather than the vaguely cylindrical assembly of skin, hair, and keratin she was expecting, there was an irregular plate of weirdly discolored metal. It even crawled up the edges a little, almost looking like one of the Princess's neat shoes, but made from vastly inferior material. A quick examination confirmed that her other feet exhibited similar adornments. Even her belly seemed a bit darker and crustier than she expected after this long out of the Dross.

"Well, that's happening faster than I expected." She pondered this for a beat, then shrugged. "Eh, whatever. I'll worry about it after the boss run. Oh! That reminds me." The party pony clapped her oddly shod front hooves twice, then smiled anew. "There. That should be everything. La lala lala..."

After managing to defuse a subcritical Dizzy Twister, Rainbow Dash decided that she deserved a break as much as she needed one. She pushed open the door to the Sugarcube Corner, giving a smile to the pony at the counter. "Hi, Mrs. Cake."

"Good afternoon, dear," the baker said sweetly. A bit of anxiety crept into her smile. "Any word from Pinkie?"

The speedster shook her head. "Sorry."

"Oh, I just don't know what I'll tell her parents..."

This gave Dash a moment of pause. "You know her parents?"

Mrs. Cake nodded. "Oh, of course! You don't think we just found her in the spare room one day, do you?"

"Guess I never really thought about it," admitted the pegasus.

"Well, I do have a bit of good news." The proprietress reached into the display case and produced a plate with an envelope and a rainbow-frosted cupcake. "Those were waiting for me in the kitchen this morning, along with a note for me. No idea how it all got there, but my letter said to give both to you when you came in today."

"Huh. Well, that's Pinkie for you." Dash reached to one side, then paused, remembering that she'd never stopped to grab her wallet before her woefully less than literal flight to Fluttershy's. "Uh..."

Mrs. Cake smiled. "My note also came with a bit and a postscript about how you wouldn't have any. This one's on Pinkie, dear."

Dash matched her expression. "Thanks." She took the plate in mouth and made her way to one of the many empty tables. It was the lull after the lunch rush, so at least she could eat without a good dozen pegasi starring at her for all the wrong reasons.

The cupcake was, unsurprisingly, delicious. The rich chocolate cake underneath the seven sugary stripes carried an odd but enjoyable blend of sweet and spicy. Only after the treat was finished did Dash open the envelope. Hay, filly's gotta eat.

Dashie,

If you're reading this, then I've fled the universe and your wings are in really crummy shape. The good news is that both of these situations are temporary. The bad news is that both will still take time. I know you aren't the most patient of ponies, and frankly, in most cases, neither am I. As such, I'm giving you a gift, even though I'm not here to actually give it. It's something that should drastically reduce how long you'll have to wait before your wings get better.

Before I get into specifics, there's something you should know: That cupcake you just ate was laced with Tartarus Select.

Dash stopped reading. She knew Tartarus Select. She doubted that she'd ever be able to forget it. It had been during some party or another when she'd noticed Pinkie gingerly topping a brownie with hot sauce rather than drowning the innocent foodstuff. Dash had asked about it. Pinkie had insisted that she wouldn't like it. Dash had insisted, reassuring her friend. Finally, she was presented with a cracker bearing a single tiny droplet of the substance.

Fifteen minutes later, after Dash had regained consciousness and remembered how to think, she'd decided to listen to Pinkie when it came to spicy stuff. And yet the pegasus had just eaten Celestia knew how much of the same substance without even noticing. She dove back into the letter.

Okay, you're back.

One would think that, after a while, Dash would be used to this kind of thing. One would be wrong.

Back for good? Okay. So, as the cupcake demonstrated, you've developed an incredible tolerance for what my saucery tutor liked to call "hot energy." That is, the power of flame and spiciness. (Remind me to tell you about the time I became an adventurer in the Kingdom of Loathing. Oh, I have so many fun stories now that you girls know that I'm a planeswalker!)

Anyway, it's that power that'll put the dash back in your rainbow. Go to my secret hot sauce reserve. Drink the contents of the bottle with the white label. Ignore the warnings like we both know you will anyway. You'll have a smile back on your face in no time.

Love,
Pinkie Pie

P.S. Oops. Um, that kind of slipped out at the end there. And I'm writing in pen. I guess we'll have a lot to talk about when I get back, huh?

Dash sighed. Sometimes, she thought her life would be easier if there was a way for her to make herself like mares. There were perils to being an eternal, glorious beacon of awesome.

Still, she had more pressing matters to take care of. "Mrs. Cake? Would it be okay if I went up to Pinkie's room?"

The baker gave an understanding smile and a matching wink. "Go right ahead, dear."

Yes, concluded Dash, she'd either have to learn to like mares or to turn off her swag. One of the two.

Rarity hummed to herself as she sewed, quite pleased with herself. After the trials of that morning, she had rebounded quite nicely, if she might say so herself. Once the stairs were cleared, which had really just been a matter of slowing her motions, the day had gone without a hitch. True, she'd had to keep herself to the ground floor of the Boutique, but even so, she'd finished three dresses, had made sketches of four more designs, and had prepared both breakfast and lunch with only a bit more telekinesis than usual.

The last stitch complete, she held up the embroidered cravat she'd been working on. "Perfect!" gushed the fashionista. "Fancy Pants is sure to love it. All it needs now are some understated sapphires to go with that exquisite mane of his."

She rose from the sewing machine and made her way to her jewel chest, quite proud of her ability to triumph over adversity. She paused halfway. "That's odd..."

Something wasn't right. Rarity had made this little trip countless times before, but some detail had shifted this time. She just couldn't put her hoof on what. She looked around the shop. Actually everything seemed a bit off. But why? In what way?

The designer's analytical mind soon settled on the discrepancy: Everything seemed shorter. But that didn't make sense at all! The Boutique couldn't have shrunk, and she was obviously full-grown. She smirked and cocked a hip. Oh yes, there was no doubt of that.

The nature of Rarity's little pose fully registered. Hip cocked, one foreleg resting on it, the other languid... She was up on her rear legs. That had been what had made her stop in the first place, the tattoo of only two hooves rather than four. And she hadn't even consciously realized it until now. Her hips should've been screaming in protest by this point, yet—

Rarity gasped. (A forehoof demurely covering her mouth, of course.) She wasn't in any pain at all. Oh, the soreness had lessened over the course of the day, but it had still been there. Now, in the sort of pose most ponies couldn't comfortably maintain for the better part of a minute, she felt fine. She tried dropping to all fours and flinched back immediately. Her spine, her withers, her shoulders, all of them twinged the moment she'd shifted.

The designer considered this for a moment more, then shrugged. Then she shrugged again. There was a certain pleasant novelty to the gesture when it was stripped of its push-up-like aspect. In any case, she said to herself, "I have far more important things to worry about than some strange whim of my body. There are customers counting on me and I shan't let them down."

That decided, she resumed her work. She could worry about herself when the day's labors were through.

It said a lot about their friendship that Pinkie Pie trusted Rainbow Dash with the location of her secret hot sauce reserve. It said even more about Pinkie herself that she had a secret hot sauce reserve in the first place, but that was neither here nor there.

Well, actually, it was here. "It" being the reserve and "here" being underneath Gummy's litter box. (It was a lot less disgusting than it sounded, since the alligator never used the thing; Pinkie walked him regularly.)

Underneath the litter box was a loose floorboard, a handle carved into it so it could be easily moved by mouth. In the space beneath was a horseshoebox. Written on top, rather than "Private" or "Keep out" or "Property of Pinkie Pie," was "She who controls the Spice controls the Multiverse." Dash couldn't help but smile at that. "So random."

The box was heavier than it looked; Dash had to lift with her legs, given the awkward position. Once she removed the lid, the reason for the container's surprising mass became clear; in addition to the three-by-four arrangement of small, thick glass jars, there were thin sheets of lead lining the other side of the cardboard. Given that these were hot sauces too extreme for even Pinkie Pie to use casually, Dash considered this an entirely reasonable precaution.

The jars were largely the same, stout, tightly stoppered little cylinders bearing pink labels and filled with reddish-orange liquid. Pinkie made most of the sauces herself, making them extra viscous, the better to apply them by the drop. She also named them, titles like "Mountezuma's True Revenge," "The Liquifier," and, yes, "Tartarus Select" written in her typically cheery mouthwriting.

But the white-labelled one was different. As far as Dash could tell, it didn't even have an opening, just a little handle on top. She removed the strange container from the reserve, noting how its contents were transparent and thin as water. Balancing it in her hooves, she examined the stark label. Its information hadn't been written, it had been typed, looking more like something out of Twilight's basement lab than anything made by Pinkie Pie.

METACAPSAICIN
Intensity: 1 teraScoville
(Detectable at concentrations of one part per trillion.)
WARNING: Experimental use only. Do not consume. Do not taunt.
Impossible substance. Use sparingly.
Use only in well-ventilated area.
Follow hazmat procedures while using.
Seriously, do not taunt.

Rainbow swallowed. She wasn't scared, of course, but she'd definitely admit to being mildly unsettled. Still, Pinkie had told her this would take care of whatever was warping her wings. The speedster knew it wasn't a prank. Not only would Pinkie never use something this obviously dangerous in a practical joke, she knew how important flying was to Dash. To any pegasus. It'd be like laughing at a unicorn with a broken horn or an earth pony with cracked hooves. That just wasn't Pinkie.

Still, knowing that didn't tell Dash how to actually get at the apparently impossible substance. She spun the bottle about, looking for more information. She hit paycloud on the other end of the label.

To open: Don't. If you absolutely must, get your mortal affairs in order,
then speak your full name. If you can be trusted with this substance,
the bottle will open and remain so for ten seconds. After the bottle
recloses, there is a 24-hour refractory period.

The pegasus grinned. The "mortal affairs" stuff obviously didn't apply to her. Pinkie had made it clear that she would survive. Even if she hadn't, Dash was too awesome for something as unfathomably lame as death by hot sauce. Thus reassured, she said, "Rainbow Dash."

The bottle wiggled a bit, but beyond that, nothing happened. Fear flickered in the blue mare's heart before realization struck. She sighed. "Really? Ugh, Stupid magic..." Well, it wasn't like there was anypony here who could hear her, and she'd rather have her wings than her pride any day. "Rainbow Jennifer Dash."

The little jar's handle softened and flowed together to a point. Dash hastily righted it before the point dilated to form an open bottleneck.

She wasted no time, downing the contents in well under the ten seconds flat she'd been given. For a substance spicier than was physically possible, it was a lot like drinking cooking oil. (Not that Dash ever had. Certainly not a quart of it on a dare in flight school.)

After she'd shaken out the last drop, Dash set down the jar and waited amoment. No noticeable afterburn. Huh. Maybe it was so spicy that her tongue couldn't even notice. Maybe she'd drunk it too fast. "Well, that wasn't so ba—"

Her mouth exploded. Twice. Three times. Five. Rainbow quickly lost count and was simply consumed by an oral holocaust. Her vision fuzzed as her pupils palpitated and her mind struggled with the sheer intensity of the situation. Her last thought before passing out was Oh, that's what it meant by "Do not taunt."

Trixie yawned, stretched, and longed for the days when five in the afternoon was more likely to indicate the end of the day's performances than the beginning of her waking hours. Well, no helping it. She was Luna's official personal student, and the student did not dictate class hours. Besides, somepony had to fill the seat of Royal Librarian, no matter what the hour. It was a matter of principle.

Still, how could she not pine for the days of the open road, of adoring fans and eager audiences lapping up her tales and talents? Objectively, she was a better pony now than she was then, but was she happier?

Alas, it may all be behind her now. After all, who'd ever heard of the student of a princess acting as a common showmare? It was unthinkably beneath her! She might as well be... be....

Be a small town librarian? suggested a rather smug bit of herself.

Okay, so there was that. Oh, Twilight Sparkle, eternal engima that she was. Trixie certainly didn't hate her, not anymore. But did she like her? She couldn't say. Her feelings towards the lavender mare were utterly opaque to her, inscrutable in their complexity, labyrinthine in their self-contradictions, something in their... somethings.

The blue unicorn yawned. Darn it, she needed caffeine if she was going to continue this internal monologue. To the kitchen.

It was a journey of about a dozen steps. Her apartment was manageable, which in Canterlot real estate was code for "not likely to fall off of the side of the mountain any time soon." It was three rooms in a rail-thin arrangement that left little space for personal embellishments or, indeed, furniture. But by Luna, it was Trixie's!

However, as far as she knew, the unicorn sitting at her kitchen counter wasn't. "Who are you?" demanded the (former?) showmare. She grabbed the first large object her telekinesis happened upon and yanked it in front of her. "Stay back! I have a... broom!"

"So I see."

Trixie dropped the broom in her shock. That voice. There was no mistaking that voice. Oh, the body was rather... distorted, but knowing that voice, there was no telling what kind of arcane wonderment had transpired to cause such a transformation. She certainly wouldn't put anything past the one, the only "Twilight Sparkle?"

"Good evening, Trixie," replied Twilight, saluting her with a steaming mug. "I hope you don't mind, but I made coffee."

"Certainly not, but... why are you here?"

The purple mare gave a sheepish grin. "Well, suffice to say, never underestimate an alicorn. Even if she was your foalsitter." She paused and reflected on this for a moment. "Actually, make that especially if she was your foalsitter."

The blue mare blinked in befuddlement. "I don't understand."

"Don't worry about it. Just don't provoke Cadence any time soon unless your teleportation has gotten a lot better."

Trixie shrugged, pouring herself a cup of the precious elixir. "I doubt I could provoke her if I tried. I've seen her about three times in the past year. Couldn't even make the wedding, given my sleep schedule." She sat and blew on the coffee's steaming surface. "So, what have you been up to?"

Experience with Pinkie Pie had taught Twilight to wait until after the other pony had finished drinking before dropping big news on her. "I'm working on a massive project, and your help could be invaluable."

The silver-maned unicorn sputtered. She would've surely soaked her guest had the offer been more poorly timed. "M-me? What can I do that you can't?"

"I'm still only one pony," replied the changed mare. "This is way too big to try on my own. I need help. Moreover, I need help I know I can trust. My friends in Ponyville are... well, iffy on the subject. I'm pretty sure that they'll come around eventually, but what I have planned can't wait that long. I need somepony competent, somepony clever, somepony who's not afraid to get her hooves dirty if need be. I thought of you immediately."

"When you say 'get my hooves dirty'..."

"Not everything I have planned is, in the strictest sense, 'legal,'" Twilight confessed, complete with air quotes. "Or, depending on your point of view, 'ethical.' But it needs to be done, for the sake of Equestria."

Trixie considered the offer for a moment. "What about my job at the Royal Library? I can't just abandon Princess Luna. Not after all she's done for me."

The other unicorn dismissed the objection with the wave of a hoof. "Let me worry about that. Once I've explained my project to her, she'll be more than understanding. I'm sure of it." After all, Celestia seemed to take it... okay, this was a blatant lie and Twilight knew it. Still, as long as Trixie didn't...

"Well..." the former performer scratched at the floor with a hoof a few times in her indecision, then finally made her choice. "I... suppose. We'll speak with Luna. If it's alright with her, I would be honored to help you, Twilight."

The purple mare's face split into a wide grin which proved mildly disconcerting, given the needleteeth. "Oh, thank you, Trixie! I promise you'll be glad you did this." Then she kissed her.

It was hard to say which one found the act more surprising. Trixie certainly never saw it coming. Twilight didn't recall telling her body to do so. Then both grew lost in the unique sensations presenting themselves and everything got a bit fuzzy for a while.

Once the pair remembered that breathing was something ponies needed to do on a regular basis, they separated, but their gazes were still fixed on one another. A brilliant flush graced each face. Idly wiping at oddly black saliva, Trixie managed, "S-so, is there actually a project, or did you just..."

"No!" Twilight winced at the overeager cry. "I mean, yes, there really is a project I'd like your assistance on. I.... I guess I didn't avoid all of Cadence's love-powered attack." She coughed into a fetlock. "And, well, truth be told, you are a very attractive mare."

Awkward silence briefly fell between the two, their eyes now pointing anywhere but at each other. Again, Trixie spoke up first. "So should we go see Luna now, or—"

"I think that's the best course of action."

"Right, let's do that."

Bring the House Down 4BB
Sorcery
Destroy target creature and target land.
"Because the best parties don't leave any witnesses."
—Pinkie Pie, Element of Laughter

Furnace Justice R
Sorcery
You may put a creature card in your hand with converted mana cost X or less onto the battlefield, where X is the damage dealt to you by sources your opponents controlled since your last turn ended. That creature gains haste until end of turn.
"Pain is the fire that forges us into something greater."
—Tola, priest of Urabrask

Interlude: Praetor Bebop at His Computer

The following chapter is rated SI for Self-Indulgent. Reading this blog post first is highly recommended. While this interlude takes place in the hypothetical setting of the story, Ditzy does not see it in the real world/framing device. In short, this bit's canonical uncertainty is of nearly Heisenbergian levels.

The Progress Engine. The Phyrexian faction empowered by blue mana. Inhabiting the Quicksilver Sea, their domain was the one place on the compleated plane where R&D stood for something other than "rending and dismemberment." Granted, there was a lot of that as well, but it was done in the pursuit of knowledge. Most of the time.

Invaluable in this pursuit were the skites, the living tools of the Engine. Flaskskites conveyed reagents like bloated, domesticated mosquitoes. Syringeskites plunged themselves into experimental subjects with obscene eagerness. Clampskites pinched with all the enthusiasm of a St. Patrick's Day reveler.

Strangest of all was the tumblrskite. Crafted in the hopes of infecting the strange interstitial dimension known as the Internet, neither a true plane nor a part of the Blind Eternities, the tumblrskite resembled nothing more than an enormous scarab trying to do a sit-up. Abdominal scales served as a keyboard. Polished thoracic chitin served as a monitor. A panoply of antennae pierced the Æther, providing an invisible connection to the strange realm the quasiliving device had been made to invade.

However, like any good tool, the tumblrskite had more than one use. With it, Jin-Gitaxias had discovered Equestria. With it, he had scoured the Internet for information on the peaceful plane. And with it now, he was attempting to contact the one being he grudgingly acknowledged as an equal.

In addition to connecting to the Internet, the tumblrskite had also been designed to channel a denizen of that peculiar place to facilitate communication with its ilk. The entity had never told Gitaxias its true name, if it even had one. It had simply referred to itself as "Jinmod." It had been a frustrating and mercurial entity, alternately chiding and encouraging, flippant and serious. And then one day, it simply hadn't been there at all.

That had been months ago. The tumblrskite had gone completely unresponsive. There was no magical or biological issue; the creature just went from sophisticated work of artifice to nonfunctional assembly of spare parts. The fault lay with Jinmod, who without warning had stopped responding to summons.

Of course, this didn't stop Gitaxias. He simply imbued the tumblrskite with a lesser animating intelligence. The device's functionality was restored, albeit in a reduced capacity. The Augur could no longer perpetuate his efforts to spread phyresis through the Internet, but he could continue to use its vast stores of knowledge to prepare invasions.

And then, once again, things changed.

((What do you think you're doing?))

Gitaxias paused for a moment. The text had appeared on its own, flanked by parentheses. It was Jinmod's signature, indeed, sole means of communication. He rapidly composed a reply.

Continuing the Great Work, of course.

((I can see that. Why are you doing it with my Equestria?))

Another pause. What could the inscrutable being mean?

I was unaware that you had laid a claim.

((It's rather more complicated than that.))

I'm listening.

((That'd be a first. In any case, I noticed the intrusion and I felt I should warn you. You deserve that much.))

Had Gitaxias had a brow, it would've furrowed at this point.

Warn me? Of what?

((It won't end well. This isn't the Equestria you've been examining online. There are some key differences that you couldn't possibly anticipate.))

Such as?

((For one, Pinkie Pie is currently wreaking havoc in the Mephidross.))

...What.

((Yeah. good luck with that. It was fun, Jin. I won't be seeing you again.))

The dialogue window closed. For a moment, Gitaxias felt very, very afraid.

FOME sighed and shook his head. Technically, this was all his fault. He just couldn't leave well enough alone, and now here he was, bringing together two of his creative works that never should've met. Ah well, at least it was proving interesting.

"A valid reason for doing anything, really," opined Discord.

"Your approval fills me with shame."

"As it should. Now get back to writing my glorious return to power."

The author smirked. "You really think that's what's going to happen?"

Discord shrugged. "Originally, you weren't even going to include the Elements of Discord in this story. I'd say I'm ahead of the game as it is. Why not hope for the best?"

FOME gave a noncommittal hum. "In any case, I should probably back off. Don't want any time pimps busting in and gunning me down for excessive authorial bull-honkery. Just need to put up the cards."

Discord's Advice 2RR
Sorcery
Target player discards all the cards in his or her hand, then draws that many cards.
Chaotic R (You may cast this card for its chaotic cost. If you do, choose its targets at random.)
"When in doubt, go insane. Everything will make much more sense."
—Discord

Skitecrafter 4(up)
Artifact Creature — Artificer
(up) can be paid with U or 2 life.)
2(up): Target noncreature artifact becomes a creature with power and toughness equal to its converted mana cost in addition to its other types until end of turn. If that artifact is an Equipment, change its text by replacing all instances of "equipped" with "this" until end of turn.
1/3

Nostrums and Unguents

"Ready to go, Trixie?"

"I think so." The blue mare gave her saddlebags one last nervous adjustment. "Are you sure Princess Luna will be alright with this?"

"Absolutely," answered Twilight. It was sort of true. She was sure whether Luna would accept this project, after all.

A knock on the door interrupted any further truth twisting. Twilight looked to Trixie. "Are you expecting somepony?"

The other unicorn shook her head. "No more than I was you."

The knock sounded again, more insistent this time. "Well, no sense in being rude," reasoned Twilight. She pushed open the door. "May I help y— oh." She gave a nervous chuckle. "Um, hi, Cadence. You tracked the æther trail of my teleport, didn't you?"

The princess was not amused. "Twilight Sparkle, you are under arrest for the practice of forbidden magics, consorting with malign forces, and high treason against the crown of Equestria."

"Treason!?" cried Trixie.

Twilight turned and offered a sheepish smile. "I may have encased Celestia in a cocoon of changeling magic."

"There is no 'may' about it," barked Cadence. "If you do not come quietly, we have been authorized to use lethal force."

Twilight knew this wasn't the time for pedantry, but her curiosity got the better of her. "'We'? I didn't think you used the royal we."

More than fifty guard pegasi drifted into view, arrayed around the exit and cutting off any slim hope of escape that had survived the appearance of an angry Cadence. "I don't."

"Ah."

"Twilight?" Trixie's look of betrayal almost broke the other unicorn's heart. "How could you?"

"It's for the best!" Twilight insisted. "If everypony would just let me explain—"

"You can try to justify your actions however you wish once you are in custody." Cadence lowered her head, her horn lighting up with magenta power. "Now, are you going to come peacefully or not?"

Before Twilight could answer, the princess seemed to bulge towards her unnaturally. The unicorn shied back even as Cadence blinked in confusion. "What are you—"

Spacetime blossomed like a burst pipe, and with a not dissimilar sound. On the other side of the breach stood a familiar blue stallion. Clinical Trial locked gazes with Twilight. "Come with me if you want to live."

To Cadence, the opening had been a distortion that made the altered unicorn recede while standing still. Then the warped space became a free-floating funhouse mirror. When the princess tried to reach across it with her magic, she felt the tickle against her own body. A forehoof brought into the bent space twisted back on itself with a disturbing lack of pain, appearing unharmed after it was hastily retracted.

The phenomenon then undid itself, revealing an empty apartment. A heartbeat later, Cadence began delivering orders. "Search the building. There's no telelocular residue; they couldn't have gotten far."

The guardsponies spread out, the model of military efficiency.

Mi Amore Cadenza watched them pursue a criminal and her heart swelled with pride, soothing the indignity of the rogue's escape.

Cadence the foalsitter, meanwhile, muddled over something that didn't quite mesh with the scenario. For all that Twilight had become a twisted mockery of her former self, her heart was as full of love as ever. Maybe even more so.

Beneath the cliff that supported Canterlot, Spike considered his next move. When Twilight had left the plane, his suppressed free will had returned to the fore. It was actually kind of frustrating. Before, his purpose had been clear: protect, obey, and advise his mistress/mother/sister/boss. Now a number of drives, desires, and instincts were vying for his attention. Eat! Lair! Horde! Infect! It was maddening! He didn't know how he'd dealt with it before.

Spike sighed, green smoke wafting from his mouth. "Right," he said aloud, trying to drown out the innumerable impulses, "let's look at this rationally:

"What do I want to do?" He shook his head. "No, no, that's entirely the wrong question. What I want is making itself known all too well. What should I do?"

His foreclaws beat a tattoo against the rock of the Canterhorn. "Should, should. There's a tricky question. Hmm..." Spike grinned. "Ah. Of course. Just think of it as Twilight going on a vacation. Celestia knows she needs one. Now, normally I would have some chores about the library. However, given where it is at the moment, trying to perform them would be suicide. So, I suppose I've got some free time. What to do with it?"

A moment of thought, and the dragon burst into laughter. "Of course! Lady Rarity will surely appreciate my assistance. I'll just wait until it's dark out. Bit hard to miss the contrail, otherwise."

Ditzy trotted to answer the knock on the door. "Always just before dinner... Applejack?"

The farmhoof nodded. "Evenin', Ditzy. Address in?"

"Sure. Why?"

"He an' Ah got ourselves a li'l arrangement, y' see, an'—"

Applejack had been making her way inside, but found the doorway suddenly full of irate pegasus. "No," Ditzy snarled through gritted teeth, "I don't see. Please, tell me about this 'arrangement'."

The orange mare flinched back. "Shoot, girl, Ah ain't tryin' t' steal yer stallion or nothin'! It's justa deal we got called an Express Bushel."

"Sure it is," Ditzy sneered. "So, what do you need for that, a bridle? A riding crop?"

Judging by Applejack's expression, the earth pony wasn't sure if she was more insulted, appalled, or impressed. "Dang, that mind o' yers is filthier 'n a pigsty in an earthquake!" She chuckled. "An Express Bushel's just when Ah get a bit of a bulk discount for sendin' somethin' t' all mah kin at th' same time."

"...Oh." Ditzy blushed furiously and stepped aside. "Never mind. Come on in."

Steven Magnet was midway through his evening constitutional when he hit the foulness. The sweet waters of his home abruptly gave way to a foul and odious murk. The serpent expressed his displeasure with the change in a characteristically debonair manner.

"Ewww! Get it off, get it off, get it off!"

Shuddering, Steven resumed his course upstream, keeping his head above water. He soon reached the source of the pollution. It was an unsightly brute of a creature the size of his head, built like an elephant but with the head of an eyeless gorilla. Its fur was a felted mass of split ends, its teeth were an unsightly shade of yellow, it stank like you wouldn't believe, and as if that wasn't enough, it had the gall to vomit a torrent of black corruption into the river.

The serpent put a stop to that, forcing the beast's maw shut with an immaculate talon. "Excuse me," he chided, "but some of us have to live in this river, thank you very much."

Oil dribbled out between the monstrosity's fangs. In a surge of unnatural strength, it threw off the offending finger and snapped a bite out of it for good measure.

Steven looked at his hand, aghast. "M-my manicure!" Tears as big as ponies welled in his eyes. "Oh, it will take weeks to fix this, weeks!"

Judging by the snarling and the bunching muscles, the creature wasn't feeling particularly remorseful.

Steven would be the first to admit that he was something of a dandy, but he was still a serpent. He had stopped growing only because if he were any larger, he wouldn't be able to turn around. Thus, while the savage backhand he dealt to his assailant was limp-wristed by serpentine standards, it was still enough to send the plaguemaw beast through several trees.

The immaculate draconid gave a sharp, satisfied nod. "Let that be a lesson to you, you ruffian."

Steven examined his hand again, utterly unaware of the irony. He sighed. "No convenient fabulous unicorns nearby to offer a helping horn this time. Alas."

Excuse me, Count Magnet?

The serpent blinked in surprise. "Technically," he said slowly, "but last I heard, Celestia hadn't recognized Leviathan's annexation." He smirked and continued more comfortably. "And a good thing, too. I've simply no stomach for politics." He started to scan the shore. "To whom am I speaking?"

Try the other bank of the river.

The alleged count turned and surveyed the other side of his home. "I'm not seeing you."

Down here.

Steven submerged much of his upper body for a better vantage point. "What, next to the rabbit?"

The rabbit shook its head.

The serpent gave a delighted gasp. "Oh, one of you! I haven't spoken to one of you delightful creatures in ages!" He rested his head in his palms. "What brings you here, little one?"

The fate of the world.

Steven sighed. "Of course. No one even just wants to visit. No, it's got to be of the most vital importance before they call in old Steve. Even Miss Rarity stopped happening by after a few months. Darn shame, that. I've never gotten better hair care tips before or since."

To her credit, the lagomath felt rather guilty. I... I'm sorry. I'll just go. Her shameful retreat was cut off by a sudden wall of purple scales.

"Oh, you precious thing, you," cooed the serpent. "I never said I wouldn't help. Now tell your Uncle Steven all about it and we'll see if I can be of assistance. It's got to be more interesting than the drama over who's inheriting the Pearl Duchy."

Twilight looked around, eyes wide in amazement. Every surface shined like a liquid mirror. The smell of science – metal, oil, and ozone – filled the air. A pair of blue unicorns offered a comforting anchor of familiarity as she took in the fascinating alien environment around her. Voice soft with wonder and awe, Twilight asked, "What is this place?"

"This is Lumengrid," answered Clinical Trial. "The nerve center of the Progress Engine, where new intellectual frontiers are explored every day." He gave a proud smile, then turned to the door. "Come with me."

A dozen hooves clanged against a floor like mercury frozen in midflow. The chamber opened into a hallway webbed with pulsing vessels, like a great silver gullet. Twilight's surprise redoubled "Where in Equestria, no, in all Ungula is this place?"

"Oh, we're not on Ungula," Trial said casually.

Twilight stumbled. "W-we aren't? You're a planeswalker?"

The stallion went still for the barest fraction of a second. "You know about planeswalkers? Interesting. And no. We used an interplanar portal."

"Interplanar portal?" Twilight's eyes lit up, her mind abuzz with the arcane innovations such a device implied.

"We?"

The unicorns came to a halt. Trial turned, noticing Trixie for the first time. "What are you doing here?"

She swallowed nervously. It hadn't been hard to stay unnoticed while the stallion had been focused on Twilight, but no, she just had to open her big mouth. "Trying not to wet myself, honestly."

"I couldn't leave Trixie there!" cried Twilight. "She's an accessory, an accomplice! I'm responsible for her now!"

I suppose she's going to feed me and take me for walks, too? Trixie wasn't ungrateful, she just took issue with how Twilight was presenting the matter.

Trial considered the situation for a moment, then resumed the journey. "Whatever. There's no harm in bringing her. Father may even be able to find a use for her."

"Gee, thanks," Trixie muttered. Honestly, between the two of them...

"Genuine gratitude would be advisable," noted Trial. "We've had few Ungulan specimens to study thus far. Another pony to vivisect would certainly not be unwelcome."

Trixie blanched. "V-vivisect?"

Red Jacket regained consciousness, then tried to recall who he'd lost it. Last he remembered, he'd been in his family's shop is Des Maines, sewing the lining onto poncho for a weather pegasus. After that, it was all a blur, and now everything was shrouded in darkness.

"(Observation: Cubital joint of specimen 766 shows range of motion closer to acromial joint of specimen 277 than analogous joint of specimen 142.)"

Jacket's eyes snapped open at the voice, which in turn made him realize that his eyes had just been closed. He was more concerned about the voice, though, an unsettling blend of hisses, clicks, and grunts like a song-and-dance number performed by a giant spider.

"(Observation: Specimen 766 has regained consciousness twenty percent earlier than predicted given sedative dosage. Initial hypothesis: Enhanced metabolism and/or resistance to foreign substances.)"

The earth stallion swallowed. "H-hello?"

"(Observation: Vocalization detected from specimen 766. Translation matrix engaged. No information of any consequence communicated.)"

More arachnid musical theater. Still, there was a kind of pattern to it. Maybe it was a language? "Where am I?" Red asked as he got up. Er, tried to get up. His body didn't seem to respond. "Why can't I move my legs?"

"(Observation: Attempted movement, further vocalization detected from specimen 766. Cerebellar dampening holding. Information requests communicated. Consulting sective Sarnvax for proper course of action.)"

The pony gave an uneasy smile. "Th-that sure was a lot of stuff I didn't understand just now." He knew he was starting to panic. He always babbled when he panicked, like that time he got ketchup all over a silk gown his mother had been working on for a week. She'd had to stuff a tomato-flavored clump of the ruined dress in his mouth to stop his apology.

All Spidervoice had to do was keep talking. "(Response received from sective Sarnvax. Adjusting vocal output.)" After a sound like a hydra trying to clear all of its throats at once, the voice spoke again, this time in weirdly modulated but understandable Equestrian. "Can you understand me?"

Red shivered. Whatever the thing was, it managed to speak his native tongue in a shrill screech, a grinding rumble, and a vibration he felt in his bowels all at once. Still, at least he knew what it was saying. "Yes," he answered, his own voice sounding very small and terribly insignificant. "Where am I?"

"You cannot fathom the true nature of your present location." This was said monotonously, but not out of boredom. It was as though the voice just didn't know any other way to speak.

"How did I get here?"

"By means beyond your comprehension."

Despite the situation, annoyance began to creep into Red's voice. "Are you going to tell me what's going on, or is that too advanced for me too?"

"It is not." The unseen speaker didn't even seem to notice the pony's flippant tone. "You are helping us better understand your species."

The stallion broke into a cold sweat. Oh Celestia, he'd been abducted by aliens. "H-how?" Please don't be anal probing, please don't be anal probing...

"Vivisection."

Red considered this for a moment. "Have you started?"

"Yes. (Observation: Heart rate and respiration of specimen 766 rising precipitously. Adrenal function indicates panic response. Cerebellar dampening holding.)"

"Why doesn't it hurt?"

"Pain signals are being intercepted before they reach your brain. They would cause you to convulse and ruin incision precision."

"Oh. Is that why I'm not afraid?"

"No. Judging by your physiological responses, you are afraid. However, you also appear to be in shock."

"Oh."

For a time, the only sounds were Red Jacket's shallow breaths, spidery tap-dancing, and a few faint wet noises that the pony tried not to think about. Finally, he asked, "May I see you?"

There was a brief pause. Even the faint wet noises stopped. "I don't see why not."

Something moved into Red's field of vision, currently locked on the silvery ceiling. It was like a dead squid, its pallid flesh pocked with rounded chunks of silver. Tentacles resolved themselves as corded neck muscles, dipping down beneath a narrow, exposed rib cage. Uncaring black eyes gazed down at the pony, noting every twitch of his muscles, every pulse of his heart, all without a single spark of compassion.

Red Jacket stared into those soulless pits, entranced in horror until claimed by merciful unconsciousness.

Selinus, vedalken anatomist, considered this for a moment. Switching back to Phyrexian, he spoke for the benefit of the transcriptor overseeing the examination. "Observation: Specimen 766 has lost consciousness. Cause: Hyperventilation. Corollary: Irrational fear response exhibited when specimen was presented with sight of compleated individual. Note possible applications for psychological warfare. Resuming vivisection of dextro-anterior limb."

"Of course," Trial answered Trixie. "We must understand how your species functions currently to determine how best to improve it."

Twilight frowned. "'Your species'? Aren't you a unicorn yourself?"

"In form, perhaps," the stallion conceded, "but not for much longer. By taking you where I am, I am fulfilling the final task that requires this shape."

"Oh..." The purple mare bit her lip. "Er, will you still... um, what will you—"

"She wants to know if you'll still have as nice a flank." Trixie smirked at the near-identical expressions of shock this inspired. "Well, you do."

Clinical Trial briefly did a passable fish impression. Finally, he just said, "Ah." He noted a doorway. "Oh good, we're here. And can stop talking."

He entered the room at a brisk trot and called, "Father, she's arrived!"

"Excellent."

Trixie shivered. She knew that voice. She'd used it herself far too often to ever forget it. It was the purr of the scoundrel, the deceptively sweet tone of somepony offering a poison apple and beachfront property in Canterlot to eat it in.

When the gangling chrome monstrosity strode into view, it almost came as a relief. Few had the decency to look like a monster as well.

Jin-Gitaxias strode towards the trio with a suggestion of a smile beyond his usual rictus grin. "My little pony." He paused, noting Trixie. "And friend, it would seem. The Great and Powerful Trixie, if I am not mistaken."

Trixie shook beneath the fiend's eyeless gaze. Okay, never mind that bit about the relief. "Y-you've heard of me?"

"She was with Miss Sparkle when I opened the portal," explained Trial. "I'm sorry. I should've closed the aperture earlier."

"Nonsense," answered Gitaxias. "I have the utmost confidence that Miss...?"

Trixie leapt to fill in the gap. This clearly wasn't the sort of being you kept waiting. "H-Hobbitses. Sir."

"That Miss Hobbitses will prove nearly as valuable as Miss Sparkle. Perhaps even more so."

Twilight, stunned into silence by the figure before her, finally found her tongue. "I'm sorry, but capable of what? Why me? Who are you?"

The praetor shook his head. "Ugh. Of course. My apologies, Miss Sparkle. I had all of this planned out, but I'm afraid the unexpected inclusion of your colleague has rather thrown me for a loop. Now, in order:

"Your intellectual and magical prowess will prove invaluable in our continual quest for perfection. You were chosen because, when impartially considering all candidates for aiding our humble operation, one must logically conclude that Twilight Sparkle is best pony. And I? I am Jin-Gitaxias. Augur of the Core, Praetor of the Progress Engine, and your new mentor." He bowed. "Charmed, I'm sure."

Applejack knocked on the cottage door. "Fluttershy! Y' in, sugarcube?"

The pegasus opened the top half of the door. "Oh, good evening, Applejack. Have you seen Rainbow Dash?"

The farmhoof blinked, surprised by the question. "Uh, nope. Ain't seen RD all day. Expectin' her fer somethin'?"

Fluttershy demurred. "Oh, it's probably nothing important. I'm sure she's fine. You know how she can be." She looked back up. "Um, if you do see her, could you tell her I'm here? Waiting?"

Applejack gave a warm smile. "Sure thing, darlin'. Ah'll make sure that hothead treats a lady right."

"What? Oh!" The pink-maned mare sank beneath the closed half of the door, trailing mumbled denials.

This got a chuckle out of Applejack. "That ain't why Ah'm here though. Angel in?"

"Angel?" Fluttershy peeked over her door. "Um, yes, he is, but... why?"

"Ah've got mah reasons."

Fluttershy opened the way. "Um, Angel, you.. have a visitor?"

The rabbit hopped to the front of the room, clearly in no hurry and clearly making sure that Applejack saw that he was in no hurry. She entered the cottage with a similar lack of haste. Wars had been fought with less animosity.

Applejack glared down at Angel. Having been on the receiving end of the true Stare, he met her gaze unflinchingly. The farmhoof blinked first and sighed. "Now listen here, Angel. Ah don't like you an' you don't like me, but there's somethin' in them woods that don't give two hoots 'bout neither of us. Ah know yer more 'n jus' some varmint, an' y' know Ah know. Ah reckon that, like it or not, we gotta work t'gether t' beat these things. Whaddaya say?" She held out the proverbial olive branch and a literal forehoof.

The lagomath shook the offered limb without a moment's hesitation. He'd have made the offer himself had there been a quill and parchment on paw.

"This don't mean Ah'm happy with yer cronies stealin' mah apples."

Angel nodded and smirked. Oh, this wasn't burying the hatchet. This was just changing where it was being swung.

Shining Armor paced in his office. He wasn't a deskbound officer most of the time, and his office, barely twice the size of that desk, showed it. However, chasing down the fugitive had become an aerial matter, especially after Cadence had insisted on leading the counterassault.

Some ponies considered it odd that the Princess of Love had joined the Guard. Her husband simply noted that, as the saying went, all was fair in love and war. It was only fair that the two be combined.

Shining made a point of referring to the target of the operation as "the fugitive," even in his mind. The alternative was to accept that the... thing that had incapacitated him actually was his little sister. He wouldn't, couldn't do that.

There was a knock on the door. "Come in, Cadence." The rank and file rarely dared to approach their captain at times like this.

The alicorn entered, her expression indecipherable. Shining recognized it as her "court face," the carefully cultivated poker face essential for Canterlot politics. In the matching neutral voice, she said, "I have good news and bad news."

Her husband restrained a groan. "What's the bad news?"

"She's gone."

Shining frowned. "Gone where?"

Cadence wingshrugged. "Just gone. Some kind of spacial rift. We'll have to get some specialists from the Academy to analyze it."

The stallion didn't bother holding back the groan this time. "Wonderful. A clean getaway."

"And she took the Night Librarian with her."

"What? Why?"

Cadence shrugged again. "I don't think it was intentional. However, it leads into the good news."

"Princess Luna can track her student?"

This got a shake of the head. "I haven't asked, but probably not."

Shining stomped the floor in frustration, leaving cracks in the marble. "Of course not. That would make things too easy. What is it?"

"It's definitely Twilight."

The unicorn's mouth worked silently for some time. Finally, he cried, "How is that good news? In what way could the compromising of the keystone of the Elements of Harmony, Celestia's personal student, and my baby sister possibly be seen as good news!?"

Cadence offered a soft smile. "Because her heart is still pure."

Shining calmed down a bit. Visibly, at least. He still seemed tenser than most bowstrings. "Go on."

"Twilight's body has been twisted by whatever she's been exposed to, but the love in her heart is, if anything, even greater. than before." The alicorn's smile grew. "I don't think she's being corrupted, Shining. I think the corruption's getting Sparkled."

"I see." Strategically, the captain of the guard knew he couldn't rely on an "I think," even from the premiere authority on the subject. Fraternally, Shining Armor embraced the hope with all he had. "I'll arrange something with Archchancellor Rid—"

He was cut off by a black sphere suddenly expanding into existence before him. The void expelled a scroll, then collapsed as quickly as it had come. Shining magically lifted and unrolled the missive, noting the silver crescent seal. "A message from Princess Luna?"

Once he read the last line, the scroll crumbled to dust, a signature security measure of the younger diarch. The expression this revealed sent chills down Cadence's spine. "What is it?"

"You're going to have to speak to the Archchancellor, love," Shining said distantly. "Luna's convening a war council."

Rarity considered the sketch. It was certainly different from her usual work. No frills, no accents, no tasteful gemstone encrustations. Of course, this design wasn't exactly wearable, per se.

The drawing resembled a blueprint more than anything, with front, side, cutaway, and exploded views of the object in question. Said object was essentially a glorified button clasp, incorporating mana feeds and synthetic nerves that would allow compatible accessories to become extensions of the wearer. Of course, in order to do so, one half of the bit-sized clasp had to be physically attached to the pony's body.

It wasn't like a piercing. It would require more than a little surgery to install or extract, and aside from any other objections, that would significantly drive up the cost. Not that those other concerns were easily dismissible, of course. The very concept strained just how far the excuse of avant-garde could be stretched.

But still, all that being said, the tantalizing possibilities danced in Rarity's mind's eye: Capes that could billow dramatically at will, brooches that could serve as discrete eyes, jewels that could change color to match any outfit, and those were just the start! Surely, if she showed what was possible with this device, every designer from Maris to Miloin would jump on board. But who would agree to help her demonstrate it?

The fashionista shook her head. How terribly shortsighted of her. Was there not a conflict brewing in her own proverbial backyard? Why relegate her work to the catwalk when a practical demonstration could save countless lives?

Now, all she had to do was puzzle out the logistics of self-surgery...

A knock at the door interrupted Rarity at this point, prompting a peevish sigh. "Honestly, what do ponies take me for?" she muttered as she made for the front of the Boutique, remembering to force herself to all fours for propriety's sake. "Some kind of... of... all-night delicatessen?"

Rarity threw open the door, ready to refuse the rube's requests for ruffs or reubens, when she realized she was looking at a flat, scaled abdomen. Her gaze travelled up. And up. And then back a bit, so she could go up some more. Her scathing remark died in her throat. The corpse sounded quite like "C-can I help you?"

The creature ducked through her door with smooth grace and delicate care. It considered her for a moment, then essayed a bow that would make etiquette coaches weep. "I am ever your humble servant, Milady," it rumbled.

"Oh! Oh my. Oh my, oh my." Rarity knew she was blushing horribly. Still, who could blame her? It was like something out of... well, she'd certainly never admit she read those sorts of novels, but this would've fit right in. "A-and to what do I owe the honor, good sir?"

The dragon – it could be nothing else, though Rarity had never heard of a dragon so regal and dashing – blinked at her, a hint of perplexity showing through its noble mien. "Do you not recognize me?"

The creature's sudden appearance had blindsided Rarity, but now she was getting back her eye for detail. Green belly. Purple body. Green spines. No. No, surely not. She realized her mouth had fallen open in shock, and she quickly composed herself into what she hoped was a genuine-seeming smile. "I... Spike never told me he had a brother."

The alleged sibling quirked an eye crest. "As far as I know, I do not." Spike grinned. "Come now, Lady Rarity. It's only been a day. Surely I haven't grown that much?"

"No," muttered the designer, "you grew more." In the controlled chaos of her mind, an idea clicked into place. "You've come at quite the opportune time, Spike."

"Oh?"

"Indeed. You've made my next project ever so much simpler. You've helped Twilight perform autopsies in the past, yes?"

Spike nodded and smirked. "Ne'er shall I forget her attempts to validate the reading of entrails as a legitimate means of divination."

Rarity beamed. "Marvelous. Let me show you what I've got so far..."

"Wakey wakey, Dashie!"

"Ugh... Not now, Pinkie..." Realization struck. Dash bolted upright. "Pinkie!"

Sure enough, before her stood the smiling, poofy-maned mare. Except the smile was becoming more uneasy. "Well, not exactly."

The pegasus frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Not-Exactly-Pinkie swept a hoof across the landscape, or rather, the lack thereof. "You notice how we're in a gray, featureless expanse of unattributed dialogue?"

"Of what?" asked Dash.

"Okay, so the dialogue's attributed. The point is, I'm not really here, you're not really here, even here isn't really here."

Rainbow wrestled with this concept for a moment, then found herself mentally pinned. "So... what is here?"

"The long version would require you to be at least a Basillusionist to just to understand the terminology," answered Approximately-Pinkie. "The short answer? You're dreaming. Lucidly, yes, but dreaming."

The speedster nodded. That made sense. As much sense as dreams or Pinkie ever did, at least. "So what are you, then?"

"Well, that one doesn't have a short answer, so I'll try to keep the mysticulinary lingo to a minimum." The doppel-Pinkie took a deep breath. "As you may have guessed, metacapsaicin is an incredibly magical substance. It also exhibits high psychic sensitivity, which is why you shouldn't taunt it." She winced. "Guess I should've said not to ignore that particular warning. Sorry."

Dash wingshrugged. "Eh, wouldn't be the first time doing something dumb got me burned. Still, that doesn't explain what you are."

"I'm getting to that. See, because the metacapsaicin spent so long in proximity to Pinkie Pie, she left a mental imprint on it, and, well..." She spread her hooves. "There you have me!"

"So... you're a clone of Pinkie's mind in magic hot sauce?"

The hot sauce mindclone nodded. "It's a lot like Silly Putty and newspaper comics."

"Oh." Dash considered this for a moment. "Wait, what's silly putty?"

Pinkie II frowned at this. "Oh. I guess real me hasn't introduced it to Equestria yet. Well, all in good time."

Something nagging at the back of the blue mare's mind finally broke through. She looked at her wings. Her glorious, wonderful, fully intact wings. "It worked. It worked! Omigoshomigoshomi—"

Dash's rant was stifled by a pink hoof in her mouth. Its owner gave her an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Dashie, but I'm gonna have to cut you off right there. See, this is a dream, which means that that's not your body. It's your self-image. Your wings look fine because you still think they're fine subconsciously."

"But they'll be fine for real soon, right?" Desperation trickled into Dash's voice. "Right?"

"Weeeell, yes and no," vacillated quasi-Pinkie. "See, this wasn't a cure. It was a catalyst. And not the delectable kind, either."

"So what does that mean?"

"Well, you'd have to ask Gouda. He's the one who makes the— Oh, you meant the other thing! Basically, your wings are... let's call it 'evolving.' 'Mutating' has some pretty iffy connotations." The mind clone noted the dreamer's blank look. "Anyway, the point is your wings are reshaping themselves and the metacapsaicin is letting them do it much faster than if they were just feeding off of your internal mana supply."

Dash turned this over in her head a few times. "So am I going to be able to fly or what?"

"By midnight tonight." The pink specter's gaze drifted to the featureless ground. "I just hope you weren't too attached to your feathers..."

Dash suppressed a shudder. "So, bat wings?"

The apparition snorted at this. "What? No! You think the Night Guard has new recruits chug hot sauce as part of their initiation?" A few chuckles and she added, "It's moonshine, silly!"

"Butterfly wings, then? I don't think they'll be able to handle my moves."

"Nope. No gossamer or morning dew for you, Dashie."

"Well what, then?" Rainbow cried in frustration.

This got a look of mild astonishment. "What, and ruin the surprise?"

"This is kind of important to me, Pinkie!"

"Then wake up."

"And how am I supposed to do—"

"That?" Dash blinked. She was sprawled out on a wooden floor. It was dark, but something was casting a dim, reddish light that described a boxy shape in front of her. She was back in Pinkie's room. Technically, she supposed she'd never left. "Huh. That was easy."

Her whereabouts confirmed, the speedster moved to her next priority, her wings. Turning her head, she soon found the source of the glow. "By Celestia's beard..."

Fabulous Serpent 5U
Creature — Serpent
Fabulous Serpent can't attack unless it's enchanted.
"You really expect me to fight? Well, you'd better know a good manicurist, a stylist, a scale polisher, a cosmetic dental hygienist, a mustache specialist, a..."
5/5

Fabulosity Matrix 2
Artifact — Equipment
Living weapon
Equipped creature gets +1/+1 for each Equipment attached to it.
Equip 3
"Never underestimate the power of accessorizing."
—Alabaster Etchings, plate 26

...And Call Me In the Morning

The thing darting through the midnight shadows of Manehattan had no name. Several of its components originated in named creatures, but any memories had been throughly scrubbed before its construction. To avoid excessive wear and tear on pronouns, it will be referred to by its function, Infiltrator.

Despite its preternatural grace and chromatophore-infused skin, bits of Infiltrator could still be perceived now and again. A streetlight glinted off of the steel claws it extended to climb up brickwork, the bubbles of organic quicksilver that infused its body. A leap from roof to roof silhouetted it against the waxing moon, revealing four skinny arms, a pair of powerful legs, and a neckless head that was more an outgrowth of its oblong chest. As it kicked open the door atop an apartment building, a peculiar, rhythmic whistling came from the rows of spiracles along its back.

Infiltrator descended. The eyes that ringed its immobile head ignored the near-total darkness, seeing in more exotic spectra. Infrared was only the beginning. The atmic signature, the very light of the soul, was visible to the horror. (In that sense, Infiltrator itself was as dark as the bottom of the ocean.)

Infiltrator's mission was clear: Find the literally best and brightest and bring them to its masters through the dimensional maw in its torso. The on-board portal was a one-way trip to New Phyrexia, and with it Infiltrator had already found ample samples. Still, Phyrexia knew no restraint. Too much was never enough.

The creature paused in its searching. The glow of dozens of ponies was visible to it, unimpeded by walls or floors, but one stood out far more than usual. It was bright in a way Infiltrator had only seen when the abductees had awoken. No, more so. This pony was awake. It was powerful.

It was perfect.

The light was just behind a flimsy access port. Visible light was streaming out from underneath. Stealth would be futile. Infiltrator chose shock and awe instead.

When the monstrosity barged into the apartment, it was not met by screams, a fleeing target, or desperate magic, all of which it was prepared for. Instead, it was greeted by a slate gray mare with a grim expression on her face, a cello in her hooves, and the traditional kiai of all string instrument-wielding martial artists on her lips: "Kabong!"

Infiltrator found its upper shoulders bound by hard vegetable matter. Surprisingly hard. Its lower claws could barely scratch it, given the awkward position and poor leverage. Even its dimensional maw was jammed shut within the obstruction. The creature swayed. That shouldn't have been possible. Its skull was essentially a fused helmet of metallic bone with eye sockets. Its brain was perhaps the most heavily cushioned object Phyrexia had ever made. It was designed to be concussion-proof.

Apparently, no one had told Octavia.

As the horror struggled and slumped to a sitting position, the earth pony moved back to her display case. "That was my best cello," she noted casually. "I doubt you can appreciate something like that, but it deserves to be acknowledged as such."

She found the bow she was looking for and took it in hoof. "Tell me, if you can, what do you know of unicorn hair?"

Infiltrator beamed a response directly into her mind. It sounded like a praying mantis trying to speak through a mouthful of toffee and should've left her a gibbering wreck. Disoriented though the creature was, the message still gave her pause.

Octavia shook off her chills, recomposed herself, and walked back to the creature. "Hmm. Can't say I'm surprised; most ponies don't know this. You see, unicorn hair has some unique properties when given freely and in the name of love. It becomes infused with a unique magic." She angled the bow such that the filament caught the light of the lamp, glowing electric blue. "The hair, you see, becomes as unbreakable as the bonds of love between giver and recipient."

It happened in a blink. Breathe in. Swing. "Xubi fu!" Breathe out.

"And," concluded the cellist, "when the recipient wills it, the hair acquires a sharpness bordering on the monomolecular." She nudged her unwelcome guest's head with the bow. It fell off the horror's shoulders, the dividing line ruler straight.

With a practiced flick of the pastern, Octavia removed the various ichors off of her best bow. She returned it to the display case, poured herself a tumbler of Johnny Trotter's finest, relaxed in her kelp-leather forelegchair, and only then allowed herself to quake in terror. After a few moments, muttered words could be heard from the depths of the furniture. "When I was a little filly and the sun was going down..."

After several minutes and another glass of Black Label, Octavia collected herself. She looked thoughtfully at her forelegs. Itchy cannons. A thief approaches. Had it not been for her Inkie Sense...

Speak of the Nightmare. As soon as she thought that, she felt her scalp wriggle like Vinyl at the opera. She knew without checking that her mane had spontaneously tangled itself into a mass of terribly familiar curls.

Incantessa Octavia Pie took a deep breath, sighed, and voiced what her body was trying to tell her. "I need to go to Ponyville." She glanced at the body still wearing her best cello. "After I take care of you, of course."

Dash tried to sleep. She really did. After all, it was what? Midnight? What was she going to do, go look for trouble in some alleyway? See if one of her friends had decided to dress up like Mare Do Well and be a vigilante crimefighter? Yeah, not happening.

Unfortunately, her hot sauce coma had left her surprisingly well rested, and it was really hard to fall asleep with her wings glowing like twin nightlights. And, of course, the ever-present thought of just what was doing the glowing...

Nope. Not gonna think about that. That was something she could worry about in the morning. And if it was technically morning now, then she could worry about it later in the morning.

Thinking about it (not that,) it was also kind of awkward trying to sleep in Pinkie's bed. (What? She certainly wasn't going to sleep on the floor again.) Not only was the mattress too hard, i.e. not made of clouds, but there was also the whole "she's got a crush on me" issue. That always added another layer of weird.

Anyway, it was clear that Dash wasn't getting back to sleep tonight. That meant she had to find something to do.

The realization came a moment later, prompting the pegasus to roll her eyes at how obvious it was. "Duh." She had new wings. Pinkie had (sort of) told her that they wouldn't work like her old wings. Therefore, she should go try out the new wings. Dash nodded to herself as she opened the window. Logic worthy of an egghead.

The speedster closed her eyes and breathed in the night air. The little breezes, the subtle smells, the feel of the air that was simply indescribable to the wingless. Before, it had taunted her, hanging an inch overhead that might as well have been a mile. Now it was welcoming her back.

Dash spread her wings, then paused. No. That wasn't right anymore. It didn't feel right anymore. She furled them again, felt how they folded differently. Her pasterns stuck out parallel to her body, the hooves pointed almost straight back*. Made sense, really.

Rainbow put her forehooves on the windowsill. "Okay," she muttered, "let's give this a shot." A hum began to fill the room, starting low in pitch and rising rapidly. The dull red glow intensified, making the bedroom seem more like a darkroom. Warmth filled Dash's wings. A cocky grin graced her muzzle. She had no idea what was about to happen, but she knew it would be. So. Awesome.

She leapt through the window. Twin streams of superheated air flowed from the organic rockets on her sides. Trailing red light like a giant tracer bullet, Rainbow Dash flew screaming into the night.

A true war council had not been convened in Canterlot for centuries. The old Tacticarium had, much to Luna's displeasure, been repurposed as an admittedly well-appointed guest suite. As such, she called the heads of the military to the royal dining room, which had similar dimensions and a good table for map spreading and emphatic pounding.

The princess of the night surveyed her advisors in this matter. To her immediate left was Shining Armor, captain of the Day Guard, prince by marriage, and the only pony present who had seen the foe firsthoof.

On her right was his opposite number, Guarding Dark, a bitter-humored chiropteron who'd spent his career witnessing the depths of equine nature and dragging them into the light. The bat-winged pony was a comfort for Luna; uncowed by royal authority, he had never hesitated to speak plainly to her or her sister before her.

To Armor's left sat the spymasters of the crown, the pegasus stallion Dashing Rogue and the unicorn mare Cloaked Dagger. They were a familiar necessity of running a nation, unchanged even after a millennium of societal evolution. Rogue, much like his predecessors, had charisma matched only by his paranoia. Dagger bore the haunted look and scarred mind of one who had gazed too long into the abyss at the heart of ponykind.

Then there was the sixth. Sitting to Guarding Dark's right, she bore a faint grin that hinted at an awareness of some vast cosmic joke. Luna wondered if any of the other ponies in the room even knew who she was. What she was was as apparent as it was impossible: an alicorn. Only an inch or two shorter than Luna herself, the mystery mare had an azure coat and a mane that streamed from beige to silver to robin's-egg blue.

"If we are all assembled," announced Luna, "we may begin."

Guarding Dark shifted his wings awkwardly. "With all due respect, Your Majesty," and coming from him that was a very wide range of possible values, "I don't believe we've been formally introduced to who I will presume is your 'niece'."

Shining Armor glared at his fellow guard captain, though there was a definite undercurrent of agreement that he dared not voice. This was presumably his sister-in-law, after all.

Luna nodded towards the other alicorn. "Far be it from me to intrude on your domain."

The enigmatic grin widened. "Thank you, Aunt Luna." She shifted to the rest of the room, shooting a wink at Guarding Dark. "My full title is Princess Mi Illusione Prudenza, but I'd much rather be known as Prudence. I am the director of the Equestrian Time-Space Administration Bureau. Like my sisters, I am technically a princess in the sense that I am an avatar of a celestial body, but I hardly expect to be treated as such."

"Sisters?" Shining Armor blurted nervously. "Plural?"

A trace of melancholy slipped into Prudence's smile. "I'm sorry I missed the wedding, but we really had our hooves full with the temporal issues it caused. History wanted the changeling invasion to be thwarted only at the very last second."

Dashing Rogue scoffed at this. "How very... storybook."

Luna nodded. "Quite. But now we have a new foe with which to concern ourselves." Her expression grew as dark as a moonless night. "One that turns pony against pony rather than dirty its own hooves."

Outrage and sorrow warred on Shining Armor's face. "Twilight..."

Rogue offered him a pat on the back. "I know. I can't believe it either."

"Not true," muttered Cloaked Dagger. "Sparkle number two on your list of suspicious elements among Elements. Too smart for own good, anypony else's."

The pegasus gave her an agonized look. "Not now, Seedy."

"Who's number one?" asked Guarding Dark, privately pleased that he wasn't the only one with such a list.

"Poseysfilly," answered Dagger. "Powder keg waiting for spark. Comes with own army."

"If we could move away from my wholly justified suspicion," huffed Rogue, "Sparkle's rather dramatic assault this afternoon has been far from the only recent attack on Equestrian soil." He unrolled a map onto the table, pointing with a wing as he rattled off incursion reports. "Las Pegasus. Fillydelphia. Maneitoba. Tallahorsey. All four corners of the country, and every time it's the same thing, a snatch-and-grab by a motile silversmithing accident."

Dark quirked an eyebrow. "What's getting snatched?"

"Sometimes it's supplies, mostly stone and sand. But usually? Ponies."

Luna's eyes flared like twin novae. "These fiends have been abducting Our ponies!?" Her mane began to twist and writhe. She pointed a silver-shod hoof at Rogue. "Why were We not informed of this earlier, spy?"

The stallion decided it was best not to insist on his preferred title of "intelligence agent." "We confirmed the reports only hours ago, Your Highness. Any earlier, and we'd only have rumors and thirdhoof hearsay."

Shining Armor, rather more experienced in the fine art of soothing indignant alicorns, chimed in. "Then there's the matter of Ponyville."

Luna's eyes lost their refulgence, but her mane still roiled. "What of it?"

"Before my sister went... rogue, she sent news of a significant armed force that marched on the town before the Bearers repulsed it. I sent reconnaissance pegasi to investigate." He shuddered. "Only one came back, half-dead and raving. The force seems to be biding its time, building strength until it can just overwhelm them."

Guarding Dark scowled. "How? Where are they getting their reinforcements?"

Shining Armor glared at the batpony. "I did mention she was grievously injured and nearly incoherent, didn't I?"

Prudence cut in before the Night Guard captain could retort. "I believe I can answer that question. The Office of Interplanar Transit monitors all transdimensional flux; if it comes in or out of the universe, we know about it."

"I don't suppose you could stop it, then?" asked Dark.

The alicorn gave a nervous chuckle. "We know about it. I didn't say we could do anything about it." Her horn lit up with cerulean magic. Several spots on the map of Equestria glowed with the same hue. "These are the points of intrusion for the past week."

Dashing Rogue's practiced eye soon spotted a pattern. "Every city that's been hit."

Shining Armor was more concerned with a concentration in the center. "Ponyville's practically surrounded."

"At least the idiots who tried to barge their way in through the Everfree are taken care of," noted Guarding Dark.

Prudence shook her head. "From what I've heard, they're recruiting."

A pall of silence fell over the table. Luna broke it. "The enemy clearly knows more about us than we them. They have rendered our greatest defense inoperable and turned the mightiest mortal mage since Star Swirl himself to their cause." She gave a grim grin of determination. "However, I see a ray of hope. They focus on Equestria and not on the wider world."

Prudence cleared her throat. "Um, actually, those reports we're getting from the Drakenridge suggest..." She trailed off, wilting under her aunt's glare.

"The invaders believe they can divide and conquer," continued Luna. "If they dare not face the world, then we shall bring the world to face them."

Dashing Rogue stared at her incredulously. "Permission to speak freely, Your Highness?"

"Of course."

"You'll doom us all if you do this. You might as well send envoys saying 'We're weak and vulnerable, please come invade.'"

Luna nodded, considering this. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Dashing."

"It's not a feeling, Princess, it's—"

"Especially since my sister and I sent missives at sunset."

The council silently digested this for a moment. This time, Guarding Dark broke the silence with a mirthless laugh. "Well, it could be worse."

"How?" Rogue managed to stuff a truly impressive amount of scorn into that single syllable.

"Every Bearer could be compromised."

Prudence and Cloaked Dagger shared a worried glance. Neither knew anything to suggest such a horrible scenario, but both thought they heard soft laughter at its suggestion.

Azax-Azog, the Demon Thane, soared beneath the surface of New Phyrexia. He usually stayed on the surface laying siege to what was rightfully his territory along the Blackcleave Cliffs, not least because of the horrid flight conditions down here. Between the ubiquitous mycosynth pillars and Kraynox's attempts to further subdivide the space, it was simply not meant for a flier of his dread magnificence and fell magnitude. Still, the regions near the Furnace offered fine updrafts, all the more reason to make them his. More importantly, some of his future subjects lived here.

Azax-Azog knew that the only true power was fear. It destroyed the strong from within, spurred the weak from without, governed every aspect of the glorious new world that Mirrodin had become. His road to the title of Father of Machines was paved with the nightmares of friend and foe alike, and he personally saw to it that none of the plane's other horrors replaced him in their nightly torments.

At the moment, he was terrorizing a small group of drones, still recognizably human. They were the optimal targets for his efforts. He'd kill one or two and the rest would scurry into their boltholes and warn other. Tales of the Demon Thane would spread and fear of him would be kept fresh. All according to plan.

"When I was a little filly and the sun was going do~own..."

The voice gave Azax-Azog a moment's pause before he dismissed it. The acoustics of the area made it impossible to tell where it had come from. Besides, he had more pressing matters, like choosing which drones to spare.

"The darkness and the shadows, they would always make me fro~own."

The thane sneered. Once he was done here, he'd definitely silence whatever was making that racket. For now, he swooped, scythe ready...

"I'd hide beneath my pillow from what I thought I saw..."

...And beheld an impossibility.

"But Granny Pie said that wasn't the way to deal with fears at all." A tiny horse stood among the half-dead husks Azax-Azog had been pursuing, belting out its song with surreal sincerity. The drones seemed as confused as the demon.

The creature faced the thane, grinned, and continued, "She said, 'Pinkie, you've gotta stand up tall. Learn to face your fears. You'll see that they can't hurt you. Just laugh to make them disappear.'"

With an earsplitting bellow, he charged the impertinent nuisance, eager to disprove her blasphemy.

She shut her eyes, seeming to welcome her fate. Then she spoke her last words. "Ha. Ha. Ha."

Each laugh was like a sledgehammer blow. Azax-Azog doubled over, scythe clattering to the ground as he clutched his stomach. The drones gasped, amazed.

"So... Giggle at the ghosty!"

A few hesitant wheezes.

"Guffaw at the grossly!"

More, louder wheezing.

"Crack up at the creepy!"

Snickering. Snickering.

"Whoop it up with the weepy!"

Phlegm-choked cackles.

"Chortle at the kooky!"

It was insufferable.

"Snortle at the spooky!" The singer approached the demon. "And tell that big dumb scary face to take a hike and leave you alone and if he thinks he can scare you then he's got another thing coming and the very idea of such a thing just makes you wanna..." She dissolved into a giggle fit, culminating in a snort that was undignified for everyone involved. "La~augh!"

The drones laughed louder, longer, and more sincerely than they ever had, pre- or post-phyresis. Azax-Azog, meanwhile, grabbed at the beast who dared to undermine his plans. He'd have to kill them all before news of this got out.

The horse proved slippery, weaving in and out of his clutches with insulting ease. "It's better to be loved than feared, Zoggy," she chided.

He was far too furious to wonder how she knew his name. "Be silent and die!"

She paused to consider this for a moment, moving only to duck under another attempted decapitation before coming to a decision. "No thanks." Her grin grew to demonic proportions and malignancy. "Of course, they say it's best to be both loved and feared..." The line where her teeth met began to develop a certain zigzag quality.

Lead plating had grown over the eyes of the drones, forcing them to rely on more esoteric senses. Still, all of them covered the former sites of their eye sockets. Unfortunately, that left them without hands to cover their ears.

Pinkie trotted back to them, her smile the very picture of innocence as long as one ignored the stains around the mouth and the lingering fanglike properties of the teeth. "So, like I was saying: Hi! I'm Pinkie Pie. Take me to your thane, please."

The compleated humans paused just long enough to hear the echoes of both Azax-Azog's final scream and the high-pitched cry of "Carpe jugulum!" A tall male quickly said, "This way," and began walking. The others followed, the distinct sound of four gunmetal-shod hooves mixing with the usual shuffle of feet.

Once introductions were out of the way, Gitaxias said, "Trial, take Ms. Sparkle to her quarters. I wish to speak with Ms. Hobbitses alone."

The stallion bowed. "Of course. This way, Twilight."

As the other ponies left the room, Trixie felt any self-confidence she had left going with them. What in, no, out of Equestria was this monster going to do to her?

For a brief time, the monster simply looked at her and pursed his fingers. Finally, he asked, "Do you trust me?"

Lies came more easily to Trixie than the truth sometimes. Right now, she was quite grateful for that. "I see no reason why not to."

Gitaxias had no eyes, but the mare got the distinct impression that he was directing a flat stare at her. "Given the nature of your plane's bovine population, this idiom may not translate well, but do not try to bullshit a bullshitter, Ms. Hobbitses."

"I... I think I get the gist of it," Trixie answered nervously.

Jin nodded. "Good. Then I will ask again, as one scoundrel to another: Do you trust me?"

Part of the unicorn balked at being likened to the beast before her, but she let it slide. What else could she do? "Not in the least."

This got a brief chuckle. "Good. I have given you no reason to." He moved closer to Trixie, provoking a few nervous steps back on her part. "I was, however, being honest when I said you might prove even more useful than Ms. Sparkle."

This stopped Trixie's cautious retreat. "How so?"

Jin's gaze, for lack of a better word, drifted to a point near the ceiling. "Do you trust Ms. Sparkle?"

Trixie glowered. "I asked you a question."

"Indeed you did. I chose not to answer it." The praetor turned back to the pony. "Are you going to do something about it?"

After a moment, Trixie wilted. "I trust her as a friend. I don't trust her in regards to herself."

Jin nodded. "And why is that?"

"Give her arcane knowledge to study and make sure she doesn't have enough time to really think about what she's doing, and she'll be a prisoner to her own curiosity."

The praetor nodded. "My analysis largely agrees with that. Certainly a good starting point. We'll see what can be done about those pesky ethics and morals soon enough."

"She's a hero," said Trixie. "She's saved the world twice. You really think you can twist somepony like that into some inequine madpony with no regard for life?"

"I not only think it, Ms. Hobbitses, I know it. From experience. Already the glistening oil eats at her obsolete scruples and ludicrous self-restrictions. Give it time, and you will see."

"You're a monster." Trixie knew it, of course, but to have it so carelessly thrown in her face...

"By your current standards, yes." Gitaxias drew close with astonishing speed. Trixie tried to flinch back, only to find her head clutched in one of his hands with just enough pressure to indicate that, yes, those were claws, and they could be drawing blood whenever the praetor wanted. "By our standards, however," he continued in the same casual tone, "you are worse than a monster. You are superfluous."

Trixie tried to speak while moving her jaw as little as possible. "Whuh duh yuh mean?"

Gitaxias came within an inch of her muzzle. His breath smelled of solder and hot grease. "There is no need for entertainment in Phyrexia, Ms. Hobbitses. Those of us who still possess the capacity for boredom find enjoyment in our work. Your prestidigitation and wonderworking are pointless wastes of mana here, and there is no room in this world for the pointless or the wasteful. Each creature has a purpose and is to fulfill that purpose to the best of its ability. Indeed, it is designed to do so.

"Thus, you find yourself with a choice. You must either define for yourself a new function, or I will give you one. I have promised Ms. Sparkle that I will preserve your body, but I said nothing about your mind. If you cannot decide upon a new purpose, I will purge you from that lump of fatty tissue in your skull and replace you with one." He released her and moved away with that same preternatural speed. By the time Trixie stood back up, he was facing the opposite wall, hand crossed behind his back. "So, any ideas?"

Trixie's brain seized up, locked into place by fright and mood whiplash. Her tongue, however, trained by countless hecklers, sprang into action. "Twilight's assistant. Her right-hoof pony. I don't care what you say, if I think you're a monster, she'll stage a one-mare crusade against you once she realizes just how horrible you really are. I can be a go-between, an insulator. That way we both stay useful to you."

"Hmm..." Jin thought about this for a bit, muttering under his breath. As Trixie was deciding whether she should try to make a break for it, he nodded to himself. "Yes, that will work. It avoids a fair amount of the logistical issues of incorporating Ms. Sparkle into the Progress Engine, lowers the number of independent minds that will need to be assembled, downgrades the volatility of potential culture clashes... Yes, more than acceptable."

He turned, his smile again more than a matter of liplessness. "Well thought, Ms. Hobbitses, and under great duress. I am certain that you and Ms. Sparkle will both be invaluable additions to Phyrexia." He raised a hand and made a complicated gesture, blue sparks trailing from his fingers. The door-valve to the chamber dilated, revealing a hulking brute of muscle and metal, swathed in what appeared to be burlap. "The chattel drone will guide you to Ms. Sparkle's quarters. You will cohabitate until your physiological needs for sleep have been removed. Good day, Ms. Hobbitses."

Trixie offered the drone a nervous smile. "Um, hi."

It made a low, rumbling sound somewhere between a growl and a groan.

"The drone is barely sapient," noted Gitaxias. "I would not recommend trying to make friends with it. It will probably kill you to make the noise stop."

Trixie swallowed nervously. "R-right."

The praetor's attention seemed wholly devoted to whatever was on the slab he'd been working on. He held up a hand. The joints of each finger elongated with a series of sounds like suction cups getting pulled off of a wall. "Don't let me detain you."

"Of course," the mare blurted.

She followed the drone in careful silence, trying to move as quietly as she could, in case even her hoofsteps set it off. When they reached their destination, she rushed inside the room with embarrassing haste.

Twilight looked up from the scroll she was reading. Unsurprisingly, it was a single sheet of flexible metal, runes scored into its surface. "Trixie! There you are! What did you and the praetor talk about?"

The blue mare considered a number of responses before deciding to keep things to a minimum. "I'm going to be your assistant."

Twilight seemed confused at this. "But Spike's my..." She gasped. "Oh my gosh, Spike! I left him in Canterlot!"

"He's a dragon, Twilight," said Trixie, "I'm sure he can take care of himself."

"But..."

"So, what were you reading?"

Twilight perked up. "Oh, it's a fascinating dissertation on the unusual properties of..."

As the words washed over Trixie, she tried to reassure herself that it was necessary. After all, she thought, keeping Twilight happy and productive was her job now. Letting Twilight get distracted over the hatchling wouldn't be doing her job, and not doing her job resulted in a magical lobotomy. She noticed a lull in the didactic deluge, nodded, and said, "That does sound fascinating."

"I know, right? You know, I've always held that sleep was really one of the worst unrecognized evils plaguing Equestria. I mean, if it weren't for sleep, ponies could've enjoyed Princess Luna's night as much as Princess Celestia's day and she never would've been twisted by jealousy. Frankly, I can't wait until I don't need to sleep anymore. Then maybe I can do something about the whole 'eating' thing."

On second thought, decided Trixie, making sure the two of us stay equine is just as good. "Say, Twilight?"

"Yes, Trixie?"

"Hypothetically speaking, if somepony were to try to erase somepony else's consciousness, how would you go about preventing that?"

Luna trudged through the halls of Castle Canterlot, head low. She'd been awakened early in light of Celestia's pupation, and rousing the long-slumbering Equestrian military was a truly exhausting endeavor. Now, as the moon sank into the west, she could transfer the burden back to her sister and get some well deserved rest.

The door to Celestia's chambers came into sight. She straightened up and nodded to the guards on either side of the door, among the few gold-clad pegasi on duty at this late hour. "Good morrow, gentlestallions."

"Your Highness," they answered, their clipped voices in perfect unison.

Luna continued towards the door, only to find a twin layer of feathers suddenly blocking her way. "Morningtide approaches, good ponies," she said with a scowl, far too tired to bother with modern diction. "Lest thou wouldst explain unto the masses why the sunrise tarries, bar not Our progress."

"Standing orders, Your Highness," explained the one on her left. "Nopony is to enter Princess Celestia's chambers until she says otherwise."

Luna snorted in frustration. "And if Our Sister has been accosted in the manner of this afternoon since issuing that fool edict, wouldst thou stand there for eternity, denying all who might aid Her?"

"Ours is not to wonder why, Your Highness," said the one on her right.

Luna rolled her eyes. Celestia always did like them unswervingly loyal. Give her somepony able to think for himself any night. "Thy devotion to thy duty does thee a great service, brave warriors," she said. Then she dissolved into scintillating stardust and slipped in through the crack between the doors, the guards' wings proving no more an impediment to her than an open gate.

When the guards shoved open the doors, the younger princess was waiting for them, smiling. She noted, "Thy critical thinking skills, on the other hoof, could use work. Consider where thou art standing."

Virtually in sync, expressions of confusion, realization, and horror flickered across the stallions' muzzles.

Luna nodded, taking perhaps a bit more pleasure in this than was merited. "Aye, thy Princess's chambers. What would She say, We wonder, were She to learn of this most heinous intrusion?"

"W-we'll just leave you to your business, Your Highness," said one of the guards.

She smiled. "See that thou dost, and do remember to do so in the future." She shook her head as the doors closed again. It wasn't that she liked tormenting the foals. Sometimes, it was simply prudent to remind them of precisely who and what they were dealing with.

Celestia's orders notwithstanding, the older alicorn didn't appear to be in the room. Luna nodded. She hadn't expected her to be. She moved to one specific door, where, sure enough, her sister's presence stood out like the noonday sun to her mystic senses. Luna pushed the door open

Celestia's bathroom was all in white and gold. Tiles shined and fixtures gleamed, lovingly maintained by the erstwhile palace staff. Clouds of steam were contributing to the color scheme as well, almost substantial enough to support a pegasus. The great bathtub was a gently steaming cauldron of honey-colored suds.

Luna couldn't help but note that despite her occult senses, the fixture seemed devoid of sun princesses. "Tia?" she called from the doorway. More than anywhere, this was her sister's private desmense, a place where the moon diety dared not tread without permission. Also, that much humidity would play merry havoc with her mane.

Something broke the bubbly surface of the water, emerging like the steed of Cthulhu or a very hygenic kelpie. Celestia blinked a few times to clear her vision before facing her sister and smiling. "Everything alright, Luna?"

"Dawn approaches, sister." Curiosity nagged at the younger alicorn until she asked, "Hast thou been soaking all through my night?" Try as she might, she couldn't keep her voice clear of reproach.

"Oh, come on, Lulu," chastised Celestia. "I know it's late for you, but nopony's going to take you seriously if you keep using language a thousand years out of date."

With a sigh and a pause to formulate the sentence, Luna replied, "You still haven't answered my question."

"Well, if it's almost dawn, then I'd say about ten, eleven hours."

"How art thou feeling?"

Celestia sighed contentedly. "I think I'm finally starting to feel clean again. Not needing to breathe was a big help." She glanced beneath the bubbles. "Can't say I envy Scrub Brush when she has to clean this old thing."

Luna shook her head. "Thou knowes— You know what I mean. Her parents still haven't been told."

Celestia shot upright, bathwater splashing onto the tiles. "What!? Why not?"

Her sister backed away a step. "W-wouldst thou not wish to tell them thyself?" She cleared her throat and shifted mental gears back to modern vernacular. "I mean, personal student, I thought you'd want—"

"I wanted them to hear what has become of their daughter through something other than the Canterlot rumor mill!"

It wasn't right, thought Luna, that Celestia should still be so intimidating even with her mane limp and soap suds on her flanks. "I thought you liked the rumor mill."

Gouts of steam and heat distortion rippled off of the elder alicorn as she struggled with her temper. "I like using the town gossips to disseminate equinizing details about me amongst the public. I don't like them telling my personal student's parents that their daughter has become a twisted puppet of fell magics!" Celestia's mane snapped back into its usual billowing state with a sound like a cracking whip.

Luna took a few more steps back, mostly because the rise in humidity was forming frost atop her own cosmic tresses. That was her story and she was sticking to it. "I also took the liberty of convening a war council while you were... indisposed."

Celestia nodded, levitating a towel to attend to what her flare-up hadn't taken care of. "Good. You were always better at this sort of thing."

"Well, you have a millennium more of military experience," Luna demurred.

This got a shake of the head. "Equestria hasn't known a major conflict in centuries, Luna. Pastry, not steel, is the weapon of choice these days. Our ponies need a commander whose memory of the old ways is still fresh."

"I still want you by my side on this, Tia. If I do much more on my own, ponies are going to start whispering about the second coming of Nightmare Moon."

"But you are Nightmare Moon," Celestia noted as she hung the towel.

"Yes, but every time I try to explain that, all I get are glazed looks and blank incomprehension."

"Because you inflict a full dissertation on sympathetic lunar psychoduality on the poor, unsuspecting ponies."

"They deserve to understand the full truth!" Luna insisted.

Celestia smiled as she stepped out of the bathroom. "You're asking them to fly before they can walk, Lulu. If you want help making it accessible to everypony, then ask..." She trailed off, her smile growing strained. "...Twilight."

"And so we come full circle." Luna sighed. "If you wish, I can forego sleep for the day."

"No, go to bed." Celestia levitated a spare set of her regalia out of her closet, the previous accoutrements having been hopelessly marred by slime. "We'll both need to be in peak condition in the coming days."

In almost every universe that contains them, dragons can produce viable offspring with vitually every other animal species, some plants and fungi, and even certain life forms that can only be described as "none of the above." Most naturalists consider this facility a side effect of the dragon's high innate magic. Few consider that it might have arisen as a desirable trait. After all, when considering at the staggering morphological diversity of most dragon species, impregnating a gelatinous cube seems downright simple in comparison.

One rather extreme example of this diversity sauntered into the early morning light, her eight squat legs moving at a frantic pace. Crackle was a happy dragon. She had everything she could want. Oh, sure, other dragons mocked her for her strange appearance and slow thoughts, but that didn't matter. She liked being unique, and she knew she was no idiot. If anything, she was a bit too smart, often getting lost in the cavernous expanses of her own mind while her body just kind of sat there and drooled a little.

Still, if other dragons wanted nothing to do with Crackle, that was just fine with her. Dragons were solitary creatures, barring migrations, so it wasn't like she was missing out on an eventful social life. Whatever loneliness she might have felt was more than compensated for by the nature of her territory.

Ah, yes. Crackle's territory. For anything else, it was a blasted waste, as incapable of supporting life as the surface of the sun. For a dragon, it was Candy Land. Specifically, the Licorice Kingdom. Crackle liked licorice.

The young dragon had laired on the obsidian-coated slopes of a volcano that had gone dormant scant years ago. The volcanic glass was a filling, nutritious food and, as previously noted, even tasted good. Furthermore, it was highly reflective, which was always a plus. Vanity was as much a part of the draconic psyche as greed, though not as anabolic.

As Crackle sauntered past her favorite pillar, the one that offered the best reflection on the volcano, her tail swung back and forth, expressing her good mood. Its reflection swung with it, smacking into, of all things, a disco ball. The mirrored sphere was nowhere to be seen on the slope, but the dragon's tail hit it all the same, as the sudden flash of azure light attested.

Crackle came to a halt physically and mentally, interrupting a rather interesting dissertation on the nature of truth. She turned and considered her tail. A shiny, silvery band wrapped around the appendage, ornamented with the blackest piece of obsidian the dragon had ever seen, carved into a hexagonal shape like the gems embedded in her hide.

Crackle thought for some time about this. Her eyes blinked, out of sync with one another. Finally, with great solemnity, she pronounced, "Gronk."

"Yes, I quite agree."

"Gronk?" Crackle turned back. The sound seemed to have come from the mirror pillar, but surely that wasn't possible, was it?

"Hello, my dear." The dragon blinked and squinted. There was something there beside her reflection. Something serpentine, yet oddly misshapen. "Hang on, let me see if we can't get some better reception." There was a sound of talons snapping, and the smoky glass cleared up, revealing a bizarre medley of disparate parts standing next to her.

Crackle looked to her side. Empty space. She looked back at the mirror. The strange creature, looking increasingly amused. Another asynchronous blink. "Gronk?"

"Ah, of course, where are my manners?" The chimera grinned and bowed. "I am Discord, spirit of chaos and disharmony, at your service were it not for my being temporarily indisposed in the collective subconscious. That fetching bauble you've acquired is one of my Elements, similar to those of Harmony. Perhaps you've heard of them?"

Crackle's eyes unfocused and drifted as she considered this, making her look even more like an overgrown mutant chameleon. Finally, she responded, "Groooonk."

Discord shrugged. "Hmm. Well, I suppose news travels slow in the sticks. No offense, mind you. You've got a lovely place here. I can always appreciate a nice stretch of desolation."

Crackle narrowed her gaze and blew some smoke out her snout. She wasn't stupid, after all, and even one as solitary as she could tell when she was being buttered up.

The draconequus simply smiled at this. "All right, you prefer the direct method. I can respect that. To business, then. My original choice for Bearer of Vanity was snapped up by the other team before I could get to him. A dragon was still the best choice, so I just sat back and waited to see which one of you went for the shiny in the mirror first. I'm not being disingenuous when I say I'm glad it was you."

Crackle tilted her head. There was perhaps a trace of sincerity in the mad medley's words. "Gronk?"

"Oh my, yes. I mean, look at you!" Discord did so appreciatively, as if a connoisseur of fine art. "Your wings, your legs, your..." He paused and prodded one of the growths protruding from Crackle's body. She felt a faint pressure at the point of contact. "Er, whatever these are. The point is, I couldn't come up with something more wonderfully chaotic than you if I tried!"

The dragon blushed demurely. "Gronk," she said shyly, waving a foreleg.

"No, really! But now I need your help."

Crackle brought herself up to attention. Even if this apparition was blowing smoke up her tail, he had still given her a lovely tailband. Surely that had to count for something.

"I need you to go to Equestria, where my other Elements will be gathering. You all need to be there for this to work."

The dragon gave a smart nod and marched off purposefully. Less than a minute later, she returned, looking sheepish. "Gronk?"

Discord sighed and pointed. "Equestria would be that way." He perked up as a thought occured to him. "Oh, and the other Bearers probably won't be able to read your thoughts. Better give you some means of speech." He snapped again.

The Element of Vanity flared for a moment, but nothing else seemed to happen. Crackle examined the tailband. "What did you do?" She flinched back. "Whoa, what the—!"

"Thought-to-sound conversion," Discord explained off-handedly, "the better for all to admire your wit and wisdom. Good luck, Crackle. We're all going to need it." With another flash of light, he was gone.

The dragon barely heard him, too focused on her newfound power of speech. "Testing. Testing. She sells seashells by the seashore. Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled pumice." It was a nice voice, Crackle supposed. Certainly less harsh than any other dragon's she'd heard. And the lack of proper vocal cords always had been one of her few regrets about her body...

With a smile on her face, Crackle turned and began climbing the mountain. She well and truly owed Discord for this, and a dragon always repaid her debts. Preferably before they could collect significant interest.

Once she reached the peak, she looked down into the caldera. The volcano might not have erupted recently, but the magma was still fluid. Well, it was lava where it met the air, but that wasn't the point. The point was that the pit threw off heat like a chimney, and that meant an incredible thermal.

Crackle flapped her wings a few times. The tiny things were one of her other regrettable features. Oh, she could stay aloft, magic took care of that. It was getting enough lift that was the problem. That was what the thermal was for.

With a simultaneous "Grooonk!" and "Yahooo!", Crackle dived into the volcano. A moment later, she rose back out, circling in the hot air column as she sought every foot of altitude she could get out of her geothermal launching pad. When she could rise no more, she oriented herself by spotting her lair, smack in the center of the obsidian scree.

Nodding to herself, the dragon leaned into a turn until she face the right way. Furiously beating her wings, she made for the land of the ponies.

Orchestral Assassin 1WB
Creature — Pony Assassin
T: Destroy target creature that's attacking you or a planeswalker you control.
"My jobs aren't so different. In each I give a performance that few notice but that nearly all appreciate."
1/1

Usurp 3BB
Sorcery
Destroy target creature. Attach all Equipment attached to that creature to another target creature. (Control of the Equipment doesn't change.)
Assassination attempts were frequent but rarely successful among the Steel Thanes. Then Pinkie Pie showed up.

*Note: In wing anatomy, the tip of the wing is called the thumb, a term with obviously anthropocentric etymology. As such, equine anatomy terms were applied instead.

House Call

Rainbow Dash thought it was going to be a long, long time before touchdown brought her 'round again to find that she wasn't the mare they thought she was at home. As it turned out, while organic rockets had the edge in pure speed, feathered wings were vastly more efficient, especially when powered by an organic metabolism. As such, Dash's thrust quickly petered out once she was home, her stomach emptier than a pie tin left within five feet of Pinkie Pie.

Dazed by speed and hunger, the pegasus headed directly for kitchen, going straight through any doors or walls in the way. Once there, she stuck her head through the cloud door of the sleetbox and grazed, consuming a good chunk of the appliance along with all of its contents save for an old box of Foreleg & Hammer. That done, she tugged her head out of the innocent device and promptly collapsed. Before losing consciousness, her brain managed to recover enough for two words:

"Worth it."

One problem with fighting something that was already dead, Fankraxynox had discovered, was that killing it had little impact on its ability to fight back. He had delivered blows that would pulp a griffin, but the skeletal dragon hadn't even flinched. He'd shattered its body, crushed it like a chunk of talc, and it just reassembled itself, black filth and green haze restoring it to pristine putrescence.

He wasn't doing nearly as well himself. The aberration had only managed to nick him a few times, but even those slight scratches were proving grievous injuries. Each spot that the fiend's foul claws had touched burned with icy agony, like acid slowly eating away at the Drakenlord's flesh.

Fankraxynox was stronger, faster, and smarter, but this fight was boiling down to brute endurance, and there his foe had him beat. After giving his best for the better part of a day, the old wyrm was tiring. Meanwhile, the monstrosity seemed as inexhaustible as a machine. He knew it. The other dragon knew it. Barring a miracle, it was just a matter of time.

The Warden of the Peaks slumped on the slope of Mount Benji. His vision blurred. His lungs burned. His right wing felt like it was going to fall off. Still, he was a dragon. If he died, he would do it with pride and dignity. He glowered up at the abomination above him and sucked in the breath for one last roar of flame and defiance.

Skithiryx stared dispassionately at the other dragon below. He envied it. He pitied it. It did not hear the whispers, but soon it would. Soon it would join him in glorious suffering. He dived towards the pathetic beast, ready to spread the blessings of Phyrexia.

Neither noticed the third dragon that had appeared on the horizon. Neither felt the wave of vanity magic building along her tail. Neither saw the narcissimancy grant the wish that burns in every dragon's heart: "Let there be none greater than I."

Indeed, Crackle went totally unnoticed until the moment she plowed into Skithiryx's spinal cavity and out through his chest, too busy watching her shadow ripple over the rugged landscape to notice the collision before it was too late. After the impact, she paused, turned, and hovered, watching as the two chunks of the Blight Dragon fell and rotted, rapid decay spreading through the ruined flesh.

"Oh dear," she muttered, before calling out, "Sorry!"

Fankraxynox gazed at her for a moment, utterly stupefied, before bursting into laughter. The she-dragon pouted at this, making him laugh all the harder. Finally, he collected himself enough to say, "You have my thanks, young one."

Crackle beamed. "You're welcome!" She paused and blinked asynchronously. "Um, what did I do?"

The morning sun crept across the boudoir to highlight Rarity's sleeping face. "Mmm..." She awoke, gave a most unladylike yawn and a tremendous stretch, then slid out of bed.

The fashionista gave her limbs a few appraising flexes and nodded in satisfaction. "Glad to see we're feeling better today," she said to herself.

Rarity's self-assessment was disrupted by a deep snore. It wasn't very loud, but it was pitched so low that she heard it with her bones as much as with her ears. "My goodness!" cried the unicorn. "Whatever could've... oh. I see."

Spike lay curled at the foot of her bed, thin streams of smoke drifting out of his nostrils. Opalescence slept on top of him, having found the dragon pleasantly similar to a heated leather beanbag.

Rarity couldn't help but smile at the tableau. "Simply precious," she quietly declared. "I shan't disturb them." She eased her way out of the room and towards the kitchen. She wasn't sure if Spike's sudden growth had also matured his palette, but she'd definitely feel better prepared to face today after a pot of coffee.

She didn't notice that she was effortlessly balanced on her hind legs until she was halfway down the stairs. Neither dragon nor cat stirred in the resulting crash.

Private First Class Razor Pinion, Day Guard, considered the tree before him. He didn't particularly care for trees. He was a Cloudsdale colt and had thought food grew in freight wagons until well into puberty. The idea of a greeny-brown thing that somehow turned dirt into apples still didn't sit right with him. Especially not ones that suddenly appeared in the middle of a park and disgorged national heroes-turned-major criminals. "What are we supposed to do again, Sarge?"

Sergeant Liquid Crystal, also Day Guard, held back a sigh. Pinion needed more experience on and with the ground, she told herself. Unfortunately, until he got that experience, he approached any terrestrial situation with more than a little paranoia. "For the tenth time this morning," she answered, "we're to search the premises for any intelligence regarding the enemy."

"Right." Razor stared at the tree. He had an uncomfortable feeling that it was staring back.

"We're going to have to go inside, Private Pinion."

"Yes, Ma'am." There were definitely eye-like shapes above the front door, making it look like the terrible maw of some creature out of ghost stories.

Crystal didn't bother restraining the sigh this time. "Please tell me I'm not going to have to order you into a library, Razor."

The stallion fluffed his wings nervously. "N-no, Ma'am." He stiffly marched towards the hungry beast.

His superior rolled her eyes. "Permission to bend your knees granted, Private."

"Thank you, Ma'am," came the automatic reply. The privilege was not exercised. "Ma'am?"

"Yes, Private?"

"The door's locked." Pinion completely failed to disguise the relief in his voice.

Crystal gave him a look so flat, it made a pancake seem like an adventure in topography. "Remind me, Private, what is your special talent?"

He drooped and droned, "The featherblade technique."

She nodded. "Please bypass the lock, Private."

"Yes, Ma'am..."

A few snicker-snacks later, the door was encased in a lime-green magic aura and moved aside, a few small pieces still attached to the hinges. "There now," said Crystal as she rested the boards against the trunk, "that wasn't so bad, now was..." She trailed off, taking in the revealed scene. "It?"

A palpable aura of wrongness permeated the room. It was hard to say precisely why, if only because so many choices presented themselves. The morning sunlight, when filtered through through the warped and twisted glass of the windows, became a cheerless, sallow illumination. The daylight coming in through the door, meanwhile, only highlighted the other features of the place that much more starkly. Black veins were visible in the wood grain, and in some places the wood itself twisted in ways more suitable for molten, twisted rock or metal than anything living. Translucent film covered some of the alcoves that served as bookshelves, reflecting light in unsettling ways. Both guards got the sense that a pony's-head ornament atop the central plinth was staring at them.

Liquid Crystal shook herself. Pinion was already terrified to the point of dropping horse apples. If she showed trepidation, he'd probably fly back to his barracks, or maybe his mother. Steeling herself and her voice, she commanded, "Alright, I want a thorough, systematic search, top to bottom."

The pegasus gave her an incredulous look. "Are you crazy? Look at this place!"

"All I see is a library, Private," Crystal lied in her most reasonable voice. "No hostiles, no signs of traps, nothing but books and empty space."

"No sign of traps just means that they're good traps."

Satisfaction flavored the mare's frustration. At least Pinion wasn't so scared that he'd forgotten his training. "We're still going to be careful," reassured Crystal. She gave a small smile. "Look, I'll admit the place is a bit unsettling." And the Sun, she added silently, is a bit warm. "Still, we have direct orders from the Princess herself. We have to do this, so let's get it done. Okay?"

Razor grimaced and grumbled a bit, then sagged in resignation. "Fine. Lead the way, Sarge."

The unicorn's horn glowed with magic and her eyes soon followed suit, a tessellating, vaguely insectile pattern of narrow hexagons forming over them. She visually swept the room, her sight all in shades of green but otherwise unchanged. "Nothing on hazard detection. Proceed with caution, though; it's not foolproof."

Despite himself, Pinion couldn't help but think that anypony who went into a place like this must be a fool. Still, he followed his superior officer into the tree. As he did so, he tried to ignore the face he still saw above the doorway.

It didn't return the favor.

"Celestia should be giving the official statement soon," the Doctor declared. "Once she does, we can move forward with the conscription process."

Pumpkin blinked and looked about the stallion's office. Her quiet "Uh oh" was barely audible amid the countless ticking clocks.

The other Bureau members shared a look of concern. Lyra spoke for the group. "Why 'uh oh'?"

"My don't-notice-us spell just collapsed like wet tissue paper."

"Maybe you're just out of power," Ditzy suggested.

Pumpkin shook her head. "I've kept that spell going for days on end." She tensed as an idea struck her. "Does your daughter know where we are?"

Ditzy considered this. "I didn't tell her." Her thoughts turned to Dinky Sense. "She may be able to figure it out on her own, though." The pegasus frowned. "Still, it's not like her to throw around countermagic willy-nilly."

The sound of a hoof on the front door and a muffled but clearly accented "Hello?" led to Pumpkin nodding. "Ah, that'd do it."

"What?" asked Colgate.

"That spell can only ward off casual interest. It can't hide somepony as narratively important as an Element Bearer."

Ditzy indignantly scrunched up her face. "What are we, milled oats?"

Pumpkin shrugged. "In the grand scheme of things, compared to the Avatar of Honesty? Yeah, we are."

"'Avatar'?" Lyra frowned. "Didn't you just call her—"

"You know, I really should answer the door," the Doctor noted, springing up perhaps a bit too eagerly. "Everypony, I'm not ordering you to eavesdrop, but, well..." He smiled and shrugged. "Eavesdrop. That's an order." He left the door open, and the mares soon crowded around it, ears pointed towards the front hall.

Soon enough, the faint creak of hinges was followed by "Ah, Miss Applejack. Welcome to Turner's Dentistry and Horology. I don't believe you have an appointment?"

"Sorry, Doc, but Ah ain't got time fer neighborly conversation. Where's Ditzy?"

An exasperated sigh. "I really do find those rumors concerning Ms. Doo and me quite tasteless, especially after her happy reunion with her husband. I'm afraid I—"

An annoyed Applejack cut him off. "Can it. Ah know she's here."

"How, may I ask?" The Doctor's question was polite, but carried a tart to the point of being hydrochloric.

"Hi, Doctor Whooves!"

Ditzy and Pumpkin both gasped at this voice. Downstairs, the stallion lamely mumbled, "That's not my name..."

"Li'l Dinky here agreed t' help me find 'er ma," explained Applejack, "an' Ah know what with all that's goin' on, right now Ditzy'd be with 'er spy-pony friends."

Conversational alchemist that he was, the Doctor carefully balanced amusement, disbelief, and exasperation in his next statement. "Are you really calling me a spy?"

"Aw, c'mon, Doc. Everypony in town knows y' ain't just some nutty clockmaker what lives with yer dentist niece."

"I prefer 'eccentric,' thank you," the stallion noted with a hint of umbrage.

The farmhoof plowed on. "Point is, th' innocent act ain't gonna work. Ah'm gonna keep pluggin' away 'til Ah git what Ah want, so y' may as well jus' take me to 'er now so's y' kin go about yer day."

Ditzy stood. "Good enough for me," she declared

"What do you think you're doing!?" Colgate hissed.

The pegasus gave her answer as she made for the sales floor. "Saving us valuable world-saving time." A field of cyan magic began to form around her, only to dissipate just as quickly. "And don't try stopping me."

The blue unicorn felt her eye twitch a little. "Keep forgetting she can do that," she admitted.

"It does take some getting used to," Pumpkin acknowledged.

Colgate turned to her fellows. "You two aren't going to just stand there, are you?"

Lyra shrugged. "Hay, Applejack blew your cover, not ours. Only way we can stop Ditzy is physically subduing her, and then we'd have to explain why we're here."

"And there's a chance Miss Applejack will recognize me," noted Pumpkin.

Colgate groaned and dashed after Ditzy, which meant she was just in time to see the pegasus meet her friend and daughter.

"Mommy!" Dinky rushed to her mother's side as though magnetized, a light at the tip of her horn flaring to almost blinding intensity before winking out.

"Hi, Muffin," Ditzy cooed. "Couldn't wait until Mommy was done saving the world?"

The filly sudden found the floorboards fascinating. "Miss Applejack may have said something about an apple cobbler..."

The Doctor shook his head. "Really? Bribery? From the Element of Honesty?"

Applejack stood proud and unashamed. "She'll be gettin' that cobbler. Payment fer services rendered, as promised."

"I'm guessing you aren't here to discuss ethics," prompted Ditzy.

The earth mare nodded. "Ah need yer help, Ditzy."

The planeswalker offered an apologetic smile. "In case you haven't noticed, so does all of Equestria. Can this wait?"

Applejack snorted impatiently. "Consarn it, this is so Ah kin help Equestria! So Ah kin be at mah best!" She looked down. "So Ah know Ah ain't goin' crazy..."

The pieces came together. "Oh." Ditzy fluffed her wings uneasily. "Um, I think Head Shrinker over at Ponyville General might be better suited for this kind of thing."

Applejack rolled her eyes. "That quack's good fer two things: No good an' good fer nothin'. Ah need somepony who kin really git inside mah head an' sort out whatever ain't sorted."

"Well, I can certainly do the former," Ditzy admitted.

On the edge of her vision, she saw the Doctor glance towards Applejack, then cross his eyes. The meaning was clear. Don't suppose you could wipe her recent memory while you're in there, could you?

As Ditzy approached her friend, she answered the senior officer telepathically. 'Why bother? All she did was confirm preexisting suspicions. Even if she tells somepony, it's not going to actually change the town gossip.'

Once she was face to face with Applejack, Ditzy told her, "Stay calm. I'll take care of everything, I just need you to let me in."

The orange mare nodded, closed her eyes, and bowed her head. "Ah got nothin' t' hide."

Ditzy smiled. Technically, she could've barged in anyway, but that would've been both rude and exhausting. This way she could ease into the other pony's mind and see what the problem was without it trying to tear her face off. Hopefully.

Ditzy tried to tune out the fluffy, savory afterimage in her nose as she assembled Applejack's thoughts and memories into a discernible environment. The synesthesia soon receded, leaving a conveniently featureless expanse. The pegasus could've created something more elaborate, but this needed to be a quick in-and-out mind dive.

"Now if only I could find the pony I dove into," Ditzy muttered. "Applejack?"

"Over here."

The blonde mare frowned. That had barely sounded like the farmer. Ditzy shrugged. "Maybe it's some kind of personality aspect avatar." She moved towards the source of the sound. Once she could see said source, she gasped. "A-Applejack?"

Before her was an alicorn who would stand head and shoulders above Celestia, built along the proportions of Big Macintosh. The entity's mane and tail wavered like ripe wheat in an autumn breeze. Her body, slightly translucent, glowed with an inner light, like amber made from the sap of a world-tree. Her hooves were shod with unadorned brazen greaves, and around her neck was a work of bronze that blurred the line between necklace, breastplate, and horse collar. In that strange item's center was the apple-shaped gemstone that could only be the Element of Honesty.

The figure gave a soft grin. "As I said, I have nothing to hide." Closer up, her voice was recognizably Applejack's, but unaccented and so suffused with such warmth and confidence that Ditzy involuntarily knelt before her. This prompted a look of surprise from the translucent mare. "Are you alright, Ditzy?"

"Y-yes, Your Highness," whispered the pegasus, her eyes wide, unseeing, and directed towards the ground.

Applejack frowned. "I am no princess. I have no truck with politics. Ditzy?" The grey mare still knelt before her, averting her eyes. The alicorn nudged her with a hoof. "Ditzy! Get up!"

"Whuh... huh?" Ditzy got to her feet, unsteady as a newborn, eyes akimbo. After a few blinks, she once again beheld Applejack, though with marginally less awe. "Whoa. Sorry, AJ. That was... wow."

"What happened?"

Ditzy furrowed her brow. "How do I put this..."

"Say what you need to," answered the amber pony. "I will understand the truth of the words."

"Oh." Ditzy smirked. "Well, that simplifies things. Basically... well, you've met the princesses. You know how they have this air of authority about them."

Applejack nodded. "It feels right to bow to them, to show them respect." Her eyes widened. "Am I doing the same thing?"

"More so," answered Ditzy. "I don't know if they tone it down or if it's magnified by the mindscape or what, but seeing you made my body kowtow without my brain getting involved. Plus..." She trailed off, her wary gaze on a point just above the other mare's head.

"Plus?" Applejack asked.

"It'll be easier to show you." Ditzy's eyes flashed blue. She then said, "Don't think of a mirror."

"Why shouldn't I—" Before Applejack could finish, a full-length mirror appeared before her. She took a step back in surprise, then moved closer, the better to scrutinize her reflection. It wasn't just her regal stature and strange composition that fascinated her. Along the line of her mane and spine, a tenuous green aurora danced and writhed, its motion a blend of flickering flames and swaying branches. "What is that?"

The answer came from beside her. "Your aura."

Applejack turned her head and saw Ditzy at her side, examining the undulating energies. However, she didn't see the energies themselves. "Why can I only see it in the mirror?"

"A little magic so you can see what I do in the reflection," answered Ditzy.

"I'm guessing it isn't normally like this."

The pegasus nodded. "Right now, your body's generating more magic than it knows what to do with, so it's sticking the excess wherever it can." She took a few steps back and ran her gaze over the aura's length. "It seems to be harmless. Well, mostly harmless, but only if you call making ponies bow to you 'harm.'" This made Applejack frown. "What's wrong?"

"Your words are honest," said the alicorn, "yet they ring false."

Ditzy contemplated this for a moment. "How's that work?"

"Honesty is saying what you believe to be. The truth is what actually is." Applejack glared at her reflection. "Leave me. I need to check something."

Ditzy hesitated. "But you haven't even told me what you wanted me to—"

"GO." The mindscape shuddered with the command, spoken by Applejack both within and without. The pegasus vanished, banished. The alicorn continued to stare at the mirror, even as the illusion of the mindscape began to unravel without its mistress.

It should be noted at this point that, like thaliamancy, alethiomancy – honesty magic – has an interesting interaction with fiction. Specifically, it doesn't. That is to say, at high enough concentrations, the magic of honesty becomes wholly incompatible with a fictitious narrative. After all, fiction is simply an entertaining lie.

The reason this should be noted is that Applejack then began to actively channel the power of her Element. The already fading environment started to fragment at a much more rapid clip as the energies eroded its metaphoric substructure. Applejack herself grew ever more indistinct from the increasingly incoherent landscape, it being a literal part of her.

The mirror endured for far longer. Even without magic, mirrors are some of the most honest things in the Multiverse, showing only what they are shown. Ditzy's spell had made this one even more so, capable of revealing truths that most of its kin could not. Just before Applejack's mind became narratively inaccessible, the gifted mirror showed a dense network of thin black lines running through pony and place alike.

"Mommy!"

Ditzy blinked as she reacquainting herself with her physical body, which had apparently been shoved back from Applejack's. "Oof. Don't worry, Muffin, Mommy's okay."

"What happened?" asked the Doctor.

"When an experienced applebucker kicks you out of her mind, she knows what she's doing," answered the planeswalker. She got to her feet. "Well, whatever it is Applejack wanted my help with, I think she's got it well in hoof."

"If you say so," said the earth stallion, considering the Bearer. Applejack stood unresponsive, her knees locked. Muscles spasmed here and there beneath her coat. "Should we just prop her in the corner for the time being?"

Pumpkin came downstairs. "I wouldn't advise it. I need her to be a minimum distance away from us to reestablish my ward."

"Can I help be a spy-pony?" asked Dinky.

The future mare hesitated, but Ditzy nodded. The older blonde poked Applejack, making a film of blue light flicker over the earth mare. "Could you take Miss Applejack back to her farm, Muffin?"

"Um..." Dinky hesitated, unsure her young magic could lift an adult pony, but the thought of helping Equestria's finest bolstered her. "You got it!" Another blue aura wrapped around the farmhoof. Much to the foal's surprise, Applejack felt as light as a soap bubble. "Agent Double-Oh Dink is on the job!" Dinky declared, proudly trotting out.

Pumpkin gave a sigh of relief as she watched the child depart. "And with that, I should be able to get us unnoticed right about... n

(Once again, the author would like to apologize to all speakers of the French language. But not to sapient bags of flour. Not this time.)

Gay Maris. The City of Lights. Capital of Prance and, in the opinion of the average Marisian, of civilization as a whole. Oh, Canterlot certainly merited a degree of respect, the Princesses having chosen it for their own ineffable reasons, but Maris was culture. Maris was class. Maris was, in a word, Prance, and Canterlot, not to put too fine a point on it, wasn't.

All historians agree that the relationship between Equestria and Prance culminated in annexation. The point of contention is who annexed whom. This is crucial to understanding the Prench mindset in general, and the Marisian in particular.

In any case, Iron Will moved through the central plaza with his usual entourage of goats. The Prench loved the minotaur's message of no-nonsense self-assertion, but they needed his seminars like a fish needed a snorkel. Iron Will's gigs in Prance were for entertainment and reaffirming the audience's personal beliefs, not self-improvement. He'd been hesitant to come until the mayor of Maris had confirmed that, yes, there were supposed to be that many zeroes at the end of his appearance fee.

Needed or not, Iron Will had certainly drawn crowds. It appeared that he'd become one of those inexplicable regional supercelebrities, like David Hasslehoof in Germaneigh. Still, it'd be nice to know he wasn't just preaching to the choir...

"Ahem." A hovering pegasus broke the minotaur out of his reverie. "Monsieur Iron Will?"

Iron Will locked his gaze with the stallion's, gave him a winning smile, and confidently declared, "That's me."

"Sign here, s'il vous plait." The Marisian mailpony presented a clipboard.

Having gone through the labyrinth a few times in his day, Iron Will made sure to read what he was signing beforehand. It was just a form indicating that he'd received the package, but a supercelebrity could never be too careful. Especially not after that one mare played the concept of "one hundred percent satisfaction" to her advantage. In any case, the minotaur wrote out the series of pony glyphs with the same flourish as he would an autograph.

The pegasus pulled an envelope from his saddlebag and offered it. "'Or 'ou."

"Thanks." Iron Will rummaged through his personal space pocket, extracted a bit, and tossed towards the courier. "For your trouble."

(Given minotaurs' talent with mazes, it should come as little surprise that they're quite skilled at working at right angles to reality, including the formation of hyperspace pockets where they can stash personal belongings.)

The pegasus caught it in his mouth, the slightest hint of positive emotion in his dispassionate glare. Once he pocketed the tip, he offered a "Merci" largely scrubbed of sarcasm and flew off.

Something clicked in Iron Will's head. "Bill, I've got a new one. Ready?"

"Baa."

"Great. 'Be tough and nice. They'll respect you twice.'"

"Baa?"

"I'm thinking around Day 4," replied the minotaur. "Remind 'em you don't have to unload on everything that moves."

"Baa?" asked another of his assistants.

"Dunno, Greg. Probably fanmail." Iron Will checked the envelope. His jaw dropped. "No," he muttered, staring at the bull's head emblem where the return address should be, "definitely not fanmail." He tore open the envelope, eyes roving over the message.

They didn't move as most would expect. The written language of the minotaurs is not alphabetical. Instead of ideograms or phonograms, the information is encoded into a maze, each twist of the path a turn of phrase. Novels are measured not in pages but in square feet.

This missive, however was the size of a handkerchief, its message a simple one. Roughly translated, it read thusly:

"Hey hotshot,

"Celestia's sounded a call to arms. Yes, really. And you know what I say about when ponies are in need. I want you in Canterlot yesterday. I'll meet you there.

"Angus"

Iron Will gave a low whistle. The minotaur king himself. He rarely left his fortress in Ithacox, much less Minos entirely. No sense in making him wait. "Boys, change of plans. Tour's cancelled."

This prompted a flurry of panicked bleating. The goats' voices merged and formed a chord that resonated with the Stifle Tower, making the iron lattice shudder like a tremendous tuning fork.

Unaware of the shaking overhead, the minotaur held up his hands. "Not my choice, guys. Royal order."

"Baa?"

"No, Angus. I can't ignore something like that any more than one of you could ignore a decree from the Throne of Tin."

The vibrations, minor as they were, were enough to upset the equilibrium of something wedged between two beams. Slowly, gracefully, it listed to one side and tumbled to the ground.

"I'm sure Amspurdam will be willing to reschedule and—"

"Baa!"

Iron Will was cut off by one of the goats collapsing. The others herded around him. The minotaur shooed them away. "Come on, give him some air."

He knelt by his assistant. The goat's rectangular pupils were unfocused. "You okay there, Keith?"

"Baa..." Keith bleated muzzily.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Baa."

"Yeah, you'll be fine. Go walk it off." As Keith staggered to his hooves, Iron Will examined what had hit him. It looked like a black velvet beanbag. Curious, the minotaur took it in hand.

In a flare of light, the shapeless lump reformed itself into a resplendent golden breastplate, ridiculous masses that could only be called pauldrons adorning each shoulder. Between the sculpted pectorals was a sapphire bull's head, nearly identical to the symbol on Iron Will's pamphlets.

The minotaur blinked. "Huh. Didn't see that coming." The armor latched open in the back and fit like a second skin. "Nice."

Shining in the sunlight, Iron Will grinned at his goats. "Feel free to take a vacation, guys. Go home, see your kids, that kind of thing."

The groupies glanced at one another, then huddled. After a minute of hushed bleating, they turned back to their employer. Bill, unofficial spokesgoat, shook his head.

"You sure? From the sound of it, this is gonna get ugly."

The other goats grew uneasy, glancing to their sides, shuffling their hooves. Bill looked back at them with contempt. "Baa," he proclaimed.

Iron Will smiled. "I'm touched, Bill. I really am." He turned to the rest of the crew. "Well, you all heard 'im: If you ain't got the stones, then go on home! Bill and I have an appointment with royalty."

In her private chambers, Celestia shut her eyes and focused. The Element of Cunning hung from her neck. It was a decidedly different experience from the Elements of Harmony. While they had felt like an extension of herself, this single gem stayed just heavy enough to make sure she never forgot it was there. After more than a millennium of independent action, it felt odd to rely on an external power again, but she couldn't do what she needed to without it. Luna could, yes, illusion had always been more her forte, but she'd refused.

"The ponies' minds see a forgotten princess," the moon princess had said, "but their hearts see the Nightmare that haunted their foalhoods. You have been the sole face of authority for a thousand years. You have to be the one to do this."

The sun princess smiled ruefully. So little faith in herself.

Thinking about Luna or yourself?

"Quiet, Discord," Celestia chastised calmly.

Oh? Want to blindly toy with your Element until you get it to work, then?

"Just keep your mind games to yourself," she answered. "I'd like to get through this with as little fuss as possible."

Yes, because chaos forbid I actually get to have any fun.

"Not at the expense of the innocent."

And how does that rule you out?

Celestia frowned, her brow furrowing. "We can have this discussion after you help me."

And we will.

"Going to cooperate, then?"

Very well. Whenever you're ready.

Celestia snapped her head up in surprise. "That's it?"

Sure. Cunning is strategically selective honesty. Communication naturally falls under its purview.

"I mean, you're not going to try to force me to bargain away my soul or sanity or dignity in exchange for your help?"

Would you like me to?

"No!" Celestia shouted.

Then I don't see much point. I told you, Celly-Belly, I'm on your side for once. It doesn't mean I'm going to stop being me, but it does mean you can stop worrying about how I'm going to rearrange your thought patterns. Which, might I add, have simply horrendous Feng Shui.

The alicorn ignored the rambling, looked straight ahead, and put on her best "dignified resolve" face. "Discord?"

...and as for the chi flow in your medulla oblongata— Oh, yes?"

"Now."

Across Equestria, the sun's rays twisted and blurred as guileful magic reshaped them into their mistress's image. Celestia's face bore down on every city, town, and village in the nation like a squadron of rogue parade balloons. Where the sky was obscured, she appeared life-size before every stallion, mare, and foal. The country ground to a halt as she began to speak.

"My subjects. My charges. My friends. Today I speak not only to the ponies, but also to the donkeys and mules, to the cows and sheep, to all who call Equestria home.

"For centuries, we have known a peace the likes of which I once believed I would never see. The very concept of war has faded with time, flour and sugar replacing hoof and steel. It is with a heavy heart that, much as I wish otherwise, this blessed time has come to an end.

"An enemy approaches from without our nation, our world, our very universe. They seek nothing less than total conquest and subjugation, the destruction of everything we hold dear and the reshaping of our bodies and souls to their specifications. The heroines of our nation are without their leader, my treasured student, who these monstrosities have twisted to their own purposes.

"And yet, there is hope. Our foe has only begun to strike, and we can and must stand united against them. I call on each and every one of you to do all you can. You do not have to raise a spear to do so. Farmers, bakers, mages, couriers, you all have your own gifts that will prove invaluable. I implore each and every one of you to visit your nearest municipal or Guard recruitment center. Together, we can show these horrors that they have awakened a sleeping Ursa. Together, we can put aside the petty quarrels of species and nation and defend our world. Together, we can save Twilight Sparkle, and the light of Harmony will put the capstone on a monument to what cooperation can do."

"Now is the time for all good sapients to come to the aid of their world. I, Celestia Helia Apollonia Regina Lumia Alicor, Princess of Equestria, Sunforger, Dawnbringer, and Third Child of Ungula, declare war on the blight of existence that calls itself Phyrexia. I call upon my fellow leaders of nations to do the same.

"The time has passed for love and tolerance. We will not sit passively. We will not surrender. We will fight, we will win, and we will do it together. My friends, I have the utmost in faith in you. I know you will not disappoint me. Now let's go kick some unrighteous ass."

Crackle, Best Dragon 3(ur)(ur)(ur)
Legendary Creature — Dragon
Crackle, Best Dragon gets +X/+Y, where X is the greatest power among Dragon creatures on the battlefield not named Crackle, Best Dragon and Y is the greatest toughness among those creatures.
Crackle has all abilities of each Dragon not named Crackle, Best Dragon. (If any of those abilities use that creature's name, use this creature's name instead.)
1/1

Pervasive Putrescence 4BB
Enchantment — Aura
Enchant artifact or creature
Enchanted permanent has "At the beginning of your upkeep, you get a poison counter."
"The oil claimed Mirrodin slowly, patiently, showing itself only when victory was assured. We would be wise to follow its example with this new world."
—Kraynox, Deep Thane

Specialist Consultation

After Celestia's nationwide announcement, the Ponyville ETSAB still needed to say their piece. As the only pegasus available, it fell to Ditzy to get the town where it could hear it. Thus, she flew her mail route, crying, "Meeting at Town Hall ASAP! Everypony to attend!" About halfway through, she started adding, "I am fully aware of the irony!"

That darn mislabeled thundercloud had set back her efforts to make the town forget "Derpy Hooves" by years. Of course, trying to fix the problem with more lightning was, in retrospect, a terrible idea, but— Oh, she'd completed the circuit of the town. When had that happened?

Bemused, she made for the municipal center herself. Once there, she had to excuse herself through the thickening crowd of pegasi hovering above the podium that had been brought out for the agents. Fortunately, the other Bureau members had headed for the town hall as soon as Celestia's face faded from the heavens. The press of bodies was even worse on the ground, with roughly twice the ponies and two thirds the dimensions.

Once Ditzy came to a careful landing (Like hay she was going to stumble in front of the entire freaking town!) the stallion at the podium cleared his throat and began. "Citizens of Ponyville. Many of you know me as Time Turner. Many, including quite a few members of that first group, know me as the Doctor. One or two of you may even know my true name, which I ask you not to mention lest it find its way to a junk mail list." There was laughter at this, the tense sort of laughter that comes when a very worried pony is presented with something that's the same general shape as a joke.

Once it died down, the Doctor continued. "As Celestia herself just informed you, we are officially at war. It may not surprise you that I've seen quite a few of the horrid things, and much as I wish otherwise, closing your eyes, putting your hooves over your ears, and wishing it will all go away is not a viable survival strategy. Running has been known to work, but generally only for small numbers, certainly not for the population of an entire town. As such, we are presented with but one regrettable but necessary option: We must fight.

"I have received a charter from the Princesses permitting me to organize and lead a standing Ponyville Militia. We will not force anypony to serve unwillingly, but know that there are more ways to fight than picking up a spear and trying to stick the pointy end into whatever's in front of you. Bakers, confectioners, smiths, it is with your skills that we will fill our armories. Weatherponies, you can give us an upper hoof in every engagement. Esteemed officials, your influence and mastery of logistics will be just as critical in war as in peace. Everypony has a part to play here.

"But, again, you are not being conscripted. You are being asked. If you so choose, you may flee. Take the next train to anywhere but here. Who knows? We might beat back the invading hordes before you ever see them. But with one fewer ponies helping us, it will be slightly less likely that we will. And if you go?" The Doctor pointed a hoof into the audience. "And you? And you? Then eventually you'll run out of places to run to. And when our foes catch up to you, you will look back on this day, on this chance you had to make a difference that you so callously, foalishly threw away, and the last thought that you will be able to call your own will be a curse upon your own cowardice."

The stallion's grim expression gave way to a bright grin. "Now, any questions?"

His audience raised a pastel rainbow of raised forelimbs.

"Any questions pertaining to the war effort, not a time-traveling blue shed I allegedly possess?" he added.

Most of the legs went back down.

"Questions about my personal relationship with the happily married Ms. Doo are not war-effort-related."

The lingering limbs lowered themselves.

"Very good, then. We will be accepting volunteers here for today, but in the future, the center of operations will be my home and place of business on Stirrup Street. Fairly straightforward, really. Just show up and we'll take care of the rest. That will be all, thank you for your time."

As the crowd began to disperse, a few moving towards the podium, the Doctor grinned. "Well, I think that went well, don't you?"

Ditzy wingshrugged. "As the alchemist said to his apprentice, 'Reactions will be mixed.'"

In their basement panic room, beneath layers of cement, steel, lead, and even a thin sheet of adamantine, the florist triplets considered a map of Equestria.

"I say the San Palomino," said Daisy, tapping the southwestern desert with a hoof. "It's so sparsely populated, there's no reason for these monsters to go anywhere near it."

"Unless they want to go somewhere where they won't be bothered," countered Rose. She gestured towards the center of the map. "In Canterlot, we'll be protected by the guard, the position of the city, and the Princesses themselves."

"And any attempt to take out the capital will get us too," noted Lilly. "We should leave the country altogether."

"None of us speak any foreign languages!" protested Daisy.

Lilly shrugged. "They say immersion's the best way to learn."

"Where did you have in mind?" asked Rose. "Oalpaca? Yakutsk? Zanzebar?"

"Um... out of the country?"

Daisy and Rose both sighed. "This is going to be the tulip incident all over again," grumbled the former.

The frantic knocking at Silver Spoon's front door only made her approach it more slowly. When she finally arrived, she sweetly called out, "Who is it?" In those three words was a carefully blended subtextual thesis on the myriad ways in which she was so clearly superior to anypony who tried to beat down somepony else's door like a dog desperate to come back inside.

"Spoon, let me in this instant!"

"Tiara!?" Silver Spoon whipped the door open, hoping she'd made the shout sufficiently apologetic and self-abasing. "W-what are you doing here?"

Diamond Tiara was not her usual confident, unshakable self. She was fidgeting constantly, eyes darting from side to side, hooves walking in place.

Silver Spoon blushed. "Um, do you need to—"

"Shut up, Spoon. I am so not in the mood." The pink filly marched inside like she owned the place, the act only slightly spoiled by frequently looking over her shoulder.

"So what's wrong?" asked her cohort, trying to keep her voice as steady as possible.

"Dad's gone completely insane is what's wrong!" cried Tiara. She began to pace about the entry hall. "Instead of getting out of this hick town like any sensible pony would, he's going on about 'honor' and 'duty' and all sorts of other stuff that's just supposed to make us look good to poor ponies. He's not supposed to actually believe in any of it!"

"Um, Tiara..."

The crowned filly carried on heedlessly. "Honestly, it's like he wants to get killed. Or worse, go bankrupt! I even heard him say something about donating to the war effort." She made a face at the reviled word, then gave her friend a less-than-sane grin. "That's where you come in."

Silver Spoon swallowed. "B-but, Tiara..."

"I'm sure your parents still have enough sense to want to get out while the getting's good. Hay, your mom works in the castle in Canterlot!" Diamond Tiara dove at her friend's front feet, going from rant to plead in less than a second. "So please, please, please take me with you!" She gave Silver Spoon the best puppy-dog eyes she could muster, the sort that always made the servants cave in.

Spoon gnawed at her lower lip for a moment. "Um, two problems with that..."

Diamond Tiara's gaze went from butter-melting to nitrogen-condensing in a blink. "What?"

"Well, we, um, aren't leaving." The bespectacled filly gave a nervous grin. "At least, Dad and I aren't. Mom said she'd stay in Canterlot, try to keep everything running smoothly so the Princesses could worry about the, you know, war."

Diamond Tiara clenched her jaw so tightly, she could've bitten down on a lump of coal to make a new gem for her eponymous headgear. "You're not leaving."

"Nope."

"And that's just one of the problems."

Silver Spoon hesitantly nodded. "Yeah."

One of Tiara's eyelids began to twitch. "What. Is. The second one?"

"That'd be me."

Silver Spoon was fascinated by the change in her friend's expression. In the space of a second, Tiara went from confusion to indignation, then recognition, and finally utmost terror.

The filly turned to face the speaker. "D-daddy?"

"I've been trying to tell you," Spoon mumbled.

Tiara swallowed. "H-how much did you hear?"

"For future reference, darlin'," answered Filthy Rich, "never ever ask that question. Makes it clear y've said somethin' y' did'n' want overheard. T' answer th' question, Ah got here about when y' were tellin' Silver Spoon Ah'd gone, how'd ya put it? 'Completely insane,' Ah believe?"

Tiara gave a desperate grin and dug her hooftip into the carpetting as coquettishly as she could. "Eh heh, well, you know, I'm still your silly little filly sometimes..."

Her father seemed less than charmed. He simply clapped his forehooves twice. A grey unicorn came trotting into the room. "Yes, Mr. Rich?"

"Argent, could you do me th' favor of escortin' mah daughter back to our estate?"

The servant considered this for a moment. He glanced at Silver Spoon. "Do you require me for anything, Young Mistress?"

The filly considered her friend, nearly paralyzed with fear, and her friend's father, giving her a look that reminded her how he was only a few generations removed from plain, simple country folk who settled matters in the plain, simple country manner of bucking them into submission. She shook her head.

Argent nodded. "Then I have no prior engagement. Come along, Miss Tiara." Rather than wait for the filly, he simply hoisted her into the air, encapsulated in his metal-tinted magic. For her part, Diamond Tiara thrashed, wailed, and generally made a nuisance of herself, but could do little suspended as she was.

Filthy Rich watched this tableau until it went out of sight, then nodded to Silver Spoon. "Sorry y' had t' see that, li'l Spoony."

"I-it's okay," she muttered, unable to hide just how much it wasn't in her tone.

The stallion smiled sympathetically. "No, Ah suppose it ain't, is it? Don't you worry none, Tiara'll be fine. It's high time she started appreciatin' what bein' a pillar o' th' community's really about." He ruffled her mane affectionately. "Give mah regards t' your father. An' if y' could tell 'im Ah'll have t' cancel our polo match this Saturday, Ah'd be much obliged."

Not trusting her voice, Silver Spoon simply nodded.

"Good girl. Have a nice day, now." Mr. Rich made for the exit.

Easy for you to say, thought the filly. You're not the one who just betrayed your best friend.

Spiral Fracture, Ponyville's premiere pediatrician, shook his head as he tried to get his wife to see reason. "Emily, please! I'm doing this for you!"

The white-coated earth mare with a limp black mane sighed and smiled. "Don't you think I'm trying to do the same thing?"

"They need doctors," insisted Spiral. "Authors should get out of town while they can."

Emily rolled her eyes and shifted her flank so her husband could better see her cutie mark, an open book with a question mark on the left page and an exclamation point on the right. "Dear, I'm Em White Shyamenthol. Aliens are actually invading. It'd be like telling Steeple King to run away when a carriage came to life and started running down ponies."

Spiral nickered impatiently. "Emmy, I don't think these aliens will invade in the nude, nor will they treat water like acid."

She just shrugged. "Hay, you never know." Her expression grew serious. "Besides, Twist's too young to travel on her own."

Judging from the doctor's open-mouthed expression, realization had struck him like a sudden blow to the crotch. "Where is she?"

"Twist? I thought she was..." Terror dawned on the suspense writer. "...with you."

"Twitht Thyamenthol reporting for duty!" The filly snapped off a passable salute.

Lyra facehoofed. "Sweetie, I admit I've let a few ponies lie about their age a little, but you're really pushing it."

The bespectacled foal pouted. "But, but I can help thupply the armory! Look!" She fished a baggie out of her saddlebags.

"That's really nice of you, Twist, but—" Lyra's tongue halted as she took hold of the offered sack. She could feel the magic within pushing against her own telekinesis.

Twist gave a sheepish smile. "I jutht made the one ath an ekthperiment, but it wath tho thimple. I know I thouldn't want to make thomething tho nathty, but..."

The unicorn nodded as she extracted the bolt. It was a smooth, cylindrical obelisk of peppermint, tapering to a point not unlike a pencil. Quite unlike a pencil, when fired from a crossbow, it would explode in an icy burst on contact, encasing whatever it struck in frigid, sinus-excoriating sugar crystal.

"You didn't fletch it." It wasn't a criticism, more a thought that tumbled from Lyra's lips as she recovered from her surprise.

The filly looked down, not seeming to recognize this. "I don't have a lot of pegathuth friendth, and Thcootaloo hath enough trouble flying ath it ith, and I couldn't tell a grown-up what I wath doing—"

"And your parents would know if you opened up your pillow?"

Twist took a step back and looked up at the mare in awe. "How'd you know?"

Lyra smirked. "You're not the first filly to try enchanting stuff under everypony's muzzles." She shifted to a scowl. Such talent, but so young... The agent sighed as she came to a decision. "Are your parents staying in Ponyville?"

Twist shrugged. "I thnuck out while they were trying to convinthe each other to go."

Lyra nodded. "I've been seeing a lot of that. Well, if you can get the permission of whoever stays, I'll see about an apprenticeship with Miss Dulcinea."

"You mean your very thpecial thomepony?" the filly asked innocently.

The mare gave her a hopeless smile. "Not after I try telling her she'll be training a filly in combat confectionery."

Once Spike had awakened, Rarity and he continued their work on her pet project, what she had dubbed the "living accessory." Some manner of event had engaged the town, judging by the sheer volume of hoof traffic outside, but neither paid it much mind.

Unfortunately, it came to pass that the delightful bubble of pony, dragon, and design would have to be breached simply because they lacked all the necessary components. That meant shopping, and that meant a disguise.

Spike frowned as he considered Rarity's plan. "Are you certain that this will work, Milady?"

"Well, it doesn't really make a difference, does it?" she noted. "The fact of the matter is that we need these supplies to realize my vision."

"I could go in your stead," Spike offered.

"That's very sweet of you, darling, but I'd still need to come in order to maintain the spell." The fashionista gave a toss of her mane. "No, I shall go on my own." With that, her horn flared with a burst of sapphire light.

When Spike's vision cleared, he beheld Rarity in her unaltered glory. A strange conflict gripped his heart. This was the paragon of beauty who he'd been privileged to know for roughly two years, and yet from his current vantage point, she seemed... small. Weak. Almost childlike. While her bipedal form was a thing of sleek grace and elegant lines, this equine shape was... not. At least, not nearly as much. It was like watching a goddess turn herself into a marshmallow.

The mare, of course, wasn't privy to these thoughts, and thus asked, "Spike? I didn't miss something with the illusion, did I?"

The dragon shook his head. "No, no. 'Tis a flawless recreation, Milady. I..." He felt his cheeks warm. "I just prefer you as you are now."

Rarity smiled and moved towards her dear friend. Spike felt an invisible hoof affectionately pressed against his chest. "It's just for an hour or so, my dear. I'll be back before you know it."

He bowed. "As you say, Milady."

The mare gave an impish grin. "And I do." With that, she left the Boutique, taking Spike's heart with her.

There is a fable of a captain of the Royal Guard whose devotion to duty was so great that she refused to pass on to the Summer Lands. Instead, she became a ghost, her loyalty to the Princess too great for even death to end. This was understandably rather disturbing for her fellow guardsponies. As such, Celestia placed the captain in the night sky, so that she could keep watch over all of Equestria and the recruits could leave their barracks without getting the horseapples scared out of them.

This is a fairly young fable. Luna was never said to be the one who transformed spirit to stars; she was sealed in the moon when the tale was born. However, even a story only centuries young is like a pearl: Beneath the shimmering, mucousy layers of narrative, there is a tiny, irritating grain of truth. There certainly is a constellation the ponies call the Pegasus, but that is not the core truth of the fable.

The core truth is that there really is an eye in the sky watching over Equestria. Her coat is a white as pure as a crusader's conviction. Her mane is a blend of gold, copper, bronze, and rust that, like that crusade, inevitably ends in blood crimson. On each of her flanks is a sword colored and faceted as though carved from ruby. Her name is Vigilance, her full title Mi Milite Vigilanza XXXI, Princess of Battles. She has been in geostationary orbit over Equestria since shortly after she inherited the mantle of Princess Mi Milite from her mother, some four hundred eighty seven years ago.

Vigilance XXX's diplomatic triumphs had made war in or against Equestria almost unthinkable, so her daughter had decided her duty was to keep watch for those who would demonstrate that "almost" was a far cry from "never." Enhancing her eyesight would be easier than three-sixty scrying, so she placed herself at a vantage point where all of Equestria could be in her field of vision.

If asked, Vigilance would insist that she has been doing an exemplary job for nearly half a millennium, despite certain recent signs to the contrary. Nightmare Moon had zipped by her at the speed of night, and she wouldn't have been able to do much against her mad great-to-the-twenty-ninth-aunt anyway. Discord didn't count, as he'd been inside Equestria's borders already. The changelings were, well, changelings. You couldn't expect Vigilance to look askance on ponies walking into Equestria, could you? And the Diamond Dogs were tunnelers. She was on the edge of space.

Look, the point was that griffins and dragons and all the other threats that had the decency to fight fair hadn't been an issue. Right? Right. Get off her case. Sheesh.

...

She heard that!

As far as anypony else in the know was concerned, Vigilance had needed to take a break by the first century and at this point was suffering from a complete lost of perspective, if not sanity.

Drifting through the edges of the atmosphere and the depths of denial, the alicorn didn't anticipate what happened next. Vij?

In space, nopony can hear a scream. Vigilance was thus able to preserve her dignity. After a moment, she remembered how to reply to a telepathic message. Who is this?

You don't know?

Long-neglected memories stirred in the alicorn's mind. Oh. Right. Still kicking, then?

As are you, the other mind noted drily. You're needed.

Yes. Up here.

You're needed on the surface. We've got a war brewing.

What!? Vigilance visually swept Equestria's edges. With who?

Come down. Prudence's filly will tell you.

Vigilance blinked. Pru passed the torch?

More than two centuries ago. Are you going to come down, or do I have to come up there and get you?

The mare rolled her eyes. Alright, alright, I'm coming. She spun a half somersault, flapped her wings once, then folded them and righted herself. The thrust would send her careening downwards, She smiled. Heh. Rainboom incoming. Civvies ain't gonna know what hit 'em.

There have been three in the past decade, two of them in the past eighteen months.

Vigilance fought the urge to open her mouth in shock. That way lay bugs in her teeth. What.

Same pony, no less. Her sister was clearly enjoying her reaction. The Bearer of Loyalty.

Vigilance felt an eyelid twitch. I've got several minutes worth of free fall here. Tell me what I've missed.

Why don't I tell you what you haven't? It'll take much less time.

Don't think I can't still beat you into a paste, Mi Finale Temperanza.

Oh, fine, Temperance mock-grumbled. Prudence will cover the basics. She's better at this sort of thing.

Every Nightmare Night, the grand hall of Castle Canterlot was transformed into one of the most impressive haunted houses in Equestria. The decorators, Razor Pinion decided, would've had a field day with what had become of the main room of the Ponyville library. Hay, Sergeant Crystal was even taking notes for them. "Do you have to do that?" he asked her.

Liquid Crystal looked up from her notepad and quirked an eyebrow at the pegasus. "I don't know about you, Private, but I don't want to commit any more of this place to memory than I absolutely have to."

"Not that." Razor nodded towards his superior's eyes. "Do you have to drop your threat detection spell every time you write something?"

"Yes, actually," replied Liquid. "Otherwise the notepad's just a washed-out square of green. Besides, it's not like I shut it down completely. I just let it go passive. If something dangerous does pop up, so does the spell." As if to demonstrate, green energy covered her eyes once more.

Razor tensed, his eyes darting about the room. "What is it!?"

"Motion detected outside of my field of vision." Liquid let the magic guide her gaze. "Wasn't that bust pointed towards the door?"

The stallion looked at the central desk. The carved head that adorned it appeared to be looking right at them. Razor Pinion opened his mouth, but only a faint squeak emerged.

"Now don't—"

In the blink of an eye, the private vaulted from one end of the room to the other, the bust toppling along with him.

"...Panic." Liquid sighed. "Well, congratulations, Private. You killed a table."

Her sarcasm fell flat as black ooze started seeping out of the cleft furniture. "Sun and Moon, you really did kill the table!" Warnings crowded against one another in the unicorn's vision, vying for her attention. Soon flashing alerts overwhelmed her actual sight, forcing her to fully drop the spell. "Razor, do not under any circumstances touch that goop."

"We've got a bigger problem than that, Sarge."

Liquid hesitated. Gone was the stallion's earlier nervousness. In its place was grim determination. "What is it?"

"The doorway's gone," Razor said matter-of-factly.

Before the mare could ask for clarification, the room's sickly lighting began to dim. The reason became obvious once she looked at the walls. "The tree's growing over the windows."

"I'm guessing this isn't typical tree behavior?"

"No, it isn't." Liquid willed her horn brighter. It would soon be their only source of illumination. "Get back over here, Private. I want somepony watching my six."

"Likewise, Ma'am." Razor's hoofsteps echoed strangely in the increasingly enclosed space. "What's the plan?"

The sergeant had already been assembling the rudiments. "We head upstairs, observe as much as we can, then cut our way out. The trunk should be thinner up there."

"Um, Sarge?"

"I know," Liquid groused, "I'd rather not rely on a 'should' either, but it's the best idea I have."

"Not that."

"Well what, then?"

Unease crept back into Razor's voice. "You know how pegasi have built-in altimeters?"

The mare cut short a sigh. This was no time to beat around the bush! "Out with it, Private."

"We're sinking."

At that, the library's burgeoning awareness decided to drop the pretense and just engulfed the two ponies in its surprisingly malleable tissue, ferrying them to the basement laboratory like two giant globs of glucose. The mistress and/or the young master would surely return, as they always had, and they would surely be delighted to find new test subjects waiting for them.

In the meantime, the library was steadily reading its own contents. Surely its masters wouldn't mind if it did some prep work for them, just to save them some time. If nothing else, it liked to think of itself as conscientious.

Deep within New Phyrexia, beneath the Furnace Layer where the living and the dead were remade into things that were neither, there was a system of pipes and aqueducts, filled with and ferrying the glistening oil.

Stretching like a blightwidow's web over the Furnace (for the plane's gravity almost always pulls you towards its outer shell,) this system of conduits was, for lack of a better term, the life's work of Kraynox, the Deep Thane. An enormous, oil-slicked collection of countless limbs, Kraynox had never emerged from within the plane to do battle with the Mirrans, content to allow his competitors to tire themselves out with such frivolities. Instead, he focused on what was truly important: Restoring the glory of Old Phyrexia.

The glistening oil had much to teach in that regard. It was not just loaded with the imperative to divide and grow and the schematics for countless machines of war, but also a sort of tangible ancestral memory. From his time in communion with the oil, Kraynox had gathered much information, and he was hard at work applying it. Let the other thanes jockey for ephemeral gains in power. Ultimately, he would triumph.

"Ooh, what's this?"

The Deep Thane roused himself from his meditation in a body of glistening oil half as deep as he was tall. Some... thing was admiring one of his greatest works. "You behold my Orrery, stranger," he rumbled.

"Neat." Pinkie Pie twirled it again. Nine nested half-spheres spun about a shared axis taller than she was when standing on her hind legs. Five orbiting orbs traced their own paths about the assembly. "But aren't there only three, maybe four layers tops?"

Kraynox felt a glow of satisfaction not unlike that from completing a new strand of his oil layer. A willing audience! "It shows not Phyrexia as it is, but as it should be."

"Oh." Pinkie nodded. "Well, the math checks out."

Kraynox blinked. This took some time, as his eyes were as plentiful as his limbs. "How do you mean?"

"Well, if you want to recreate Phyrexia One, then nine layers is kind of a must." The pony turned a speculative eye towards the pipes and sluices overhead. "Certainly explains that plumber's nightmare. You're working your way to the Fifth Sphere."

The Many-Legged suppressed a shudder of ecstasy. He knew not from where this mad prophet had come, but he'd be a fool to not avail himself of her services. "What more can you tell me of Old Phyrexia?"

Pinkie gasped and covered her mouth. "Oh, I shouldn't have even told you that much!"

"I implore you, stranger," said the thane, "share what has been lost to all others."

The mare shook her head. "No can do. It's like the proverb says: 'Give a pony a match and he'll be warm for a minute. Set a pony on fire and he'll be warm for a lifetime.'"

Kraynox put his threats of physical harm on hold as he considered this saying. "So... you are going to give me the tools necessary for me to discover the knowledge I desire on my own?"

"No, I'm just going to set you on fire."

"Whuh—AAAAAAAAGH!"

"See, that's the thing," noted Pinkie, watching as the fire travelled up the support strut next to Kraynox's wading pool. "Oil's kinda flammable." The gloom of the Furnace began to lift a little as flames criss-crossed the incomplete fourth layer of New Phyrexia. "Honestly, I barely even have to try with you guys. I just have to take advantage of your work safety violations."

"Really, now."

"Yeah," the pony said, pausing only when she recalled that she'd been largely talking to herself. She turned and looked into a mouth wider than her entire body. It was closed around her tail.

"Up here."

Pinkie followed the tip and found a humanoid torso grafted onto the mouth-monster's back. Judging from the chest bumps, it was female...ish. Judging from the dramatic set of horns, it probably wasn't very nice.

"So," Sheoldred said quietly. "You double-cross Geth, mortify Azax-Azog, and immolate Kraynox." She pursed her fingers. "On the one hand, you're a clear and obvious danger that should be eliminated with extreme prejudice." The praetor smiled. Somehow, the spotless, perfectly ordinary set of human teeth was more disturbing in this place of grime and corruption than her lower mouth's fangs. "On the other, you've eliminated half my competition."

She bent down, grabbed a handful of Pinkie's tail, and hauled up the mare so that they were face-to-face. "I think we need to talk."

Pinkie squirmed. The arm holding her might have been armored in lead, but the grip was solid iron. Might as well make herself comfortable. "Do you know any songs?"

Invisible to all eyes but the narrator's, Discord considered the scene before him. "So," he said to himself, "we have the ambitious changeling, the cunning pony, the charismatic minotaur (doo-dah, doo-dah,) and the vain dragon. And then there's you." He was apparently addressing a brightly colored rubber ball lying in the middle of the largest patch of poison joke in the world. The draconequus sighed. "And it seemed like such a good idea at time..."

Truth be told, he'd had almost no say where his Elements had gone. Each seemed to have a mind of its own in that regard, recognizably his, yet skewed to a particular extreme. The Element of Mischief, it seemed, had all of his lighthearted sadism but none of his capacity for forethought. Sure, the plant was the poster seedling for laughter at the expense of others, but anything with half a brain was familiar with its effects, and he'd already met his pony quota. Anything foolish enough to wade into nearly an acre of the weird weed wouldn't be Bearer material. Certainly not after symptoms started manifesting.

Discord perked up as an idea struck him. "Might just be crazy enough to work," he muttered. It wouldn't be easy, but with four out of six activated, he might be able to pull it off. Scrunching up his face in concentration, the embodiment of chaos forced as much power as he could through his tenuous connection to the dormant Element.

At first, nothing happened. Gradually, a faint golden aura formed around the ball. The cheerful colors darkened, faint tendrils of corrupt thaliamancy licking out like the prominences of a black sun.

The aura quickly dissipated with no further visible developments. Discord wiped his brow with exaggerated effort, apparently satisfied. "Phew! I'm going to feel that one tomorrow."

The ball swelled, then exploded in a shower of confetti.

The draconequus beamed and pumped a fist in triumph. "Ha! Worth it!" He vanished from even omniscient sight, a side effect of leaving the area. Meanwhile, the plants touched by the burst Element began to visibly twist and writhe.

Peppermint Arbalest 2
Artifact — Equipment
Equipped creature doesn't untap during its controller's untap step.
Equipped creature has "T: This creature deals 1 damage to target creature. That creature doesn't untap during its controller's next untap step."
Equip 4

Bookworm Nexus
Land
Bookworm Nexus enters the battlefield tapped.
You have no maximum hand size.
T: Add 1 to your mana pool.
6: Until end of turn, Bookworm Nexus becomes a Treefolk artifact creature with infect and "This creature's power and toughness are each equal to the number of cards in your hand." It's still a land.

Second Opinion

Urabrask was not having a good day. Iron production was down four percent. A viron had fallen head first into a rage extractor, and the recycling and replacement of both would take away hundreds of laborer-hours from other projects. Oh, and Skithiryx had been destroyed, which had restored the morale of the Ungulans, which meant open conflict.

Urabrask loathed war. It certainly had its uses, but it was a massive time and resource sink. The opportunity cost was staggering: forfeited production, delayed infrastructure improvements, lost personnel, assembling new personnel from the lost personnel, it was all just so horribly wasteful.

Still, just because the praetor of the Quiet Furnace hated the cost of conflict didn't mean he was going to surrender his holdings in the new plane. He fought all the harder, channeling his resentment into the destruction and reforging of those who inspired it.

Though he'd never tell Gitaxias, Urabrask had to admit that his brother's portal technology was a valuable tactical asset, especially with the modifications his own forces had applied. He could deploy forces virtually anywhere in or on the contested mountain, and the incompleat were powerless to stop him.

Well, nearly powerless. When a pack of slash panthers charged through the large-scale portal to flank a group of the bipedal canids, a rain of javelins pinned several of the constructs to the side of the mountain. One of the missiles glanced off of a panther's iron hip, ricocheting through the portal and into the operator's chest, less than a yard to Urabrask's left. The human fell back from the console with barely a gurgle.

Four griffins pounced down on the surviving panthers, their spears driving through heads and motivators. Atop the pile of twitching mechanisms, one chimera pointed toward the still open gate between worlds and squawked something.

The largest of the four responded and crept towards the portal, spear wrapped in its tail for easy access. It remained tensed, ready for an ambush or a second wave, but nothing came. Its stance relaxed a little with every step, a grin forming on its beak. Once it passed halfway through the gateway, its gaze snapped to Urabrask and it stumbled back in surprise. The rosy gloom of the Furnace, noted the praetor, must have been too dim against the light of day for it to make out any distinct features.

By this time, the griffin had recovered. Now it pounced at Urabrask, oversized eagle talons outstretched as it screeched a warcry.

Urabrask went from motionless contemplation to blurring action in an eyeblink. In less than two seconds, he leapt at the griffin, slammed a claw through its chest, clutched its heart, filled the organ with fire magic, and tossed the stunned, dying creature back through the portal. Once it struck one of its comrades, it exploded, taking out the entire quartet.

The Hidden One zipped back and forth between planes, gathering the bodies of three fleshy griffins and eight partially artifactual cats. Once the resources were collected, he hit the kill switch, and the portal dissolved in a flurry of red sparks.

Urabrask moved to the body of the portal operator. The spearhead had gone through his neck, leaving his head attached largely by two lengths of skin. "What a waste," sighed the praetor. "Juex."

"Yes, Lord." The creature who stepped forward was bipedal, its skin giving way to blackened metal plates like cooling lava from the chest up. It had no neck, its torso instead sloping forward and opening in a jagged-fanged maw. Two thin arms on its left side clutched a staff while a single muscular limb on its right was cut off just below the elbow. Mounted to the stump was a thick plug of iron, the other side of which sprouted several flails.

"You did nothing to stop the intruder," Urabrask noted, moving the human's cadaver next to the others.

"You seemed tense, Lord," explained Juex. "I knew you were in no danger, and I thought you would appreciate the stress relief."

"Hmm." The praetor nodded towards the corpse pile. "See that these get reprocessed. Then find a new portal operator. If none are available, have one trained."

"Of course, Lord." Juex bowed, turned, and bellowed, "SQUEALSTOKERS!" A panicked gibbering piped up on the edge of hearing, growing louder.

Urabrask exited the portal facility. So much to do, so little time...

Jin-Gitaxias sighed once he received the frantic mind missive. "It never fails," he muttered, retracting his fingers. "As soon as I get to the best part, something always comes up." He connected to the neural network that served as Lumengrid's public address system, unable to keep a trace of annoyance from leaking into his voice as he announced, "Anatomist to Vivisectorum Eight to continue specimen analysis. Acknowledge."

Once his underlings had sorted who would take his place, the praetor nodded to the transcriptor, then the specimen. "I regret that I cannot give you more of my personal attention, my dear, but duty calls."

The unicorn, with half of the keratin sawed off of her horn and a few needles stuck into the exposed nervous tissue, didn't respond.

Gitaxias knew every corridor of his seat of power like the back of his hand, having designed both. This was especially useful for emergencies where he needed to bypass those corridors entirely, since it allowed him to teleport to any point in the complex with a minimum of effort. He appeared in the portal complex in a flash of light, taking stock of the situation as soon as he materialized. "All right, what's so important that it... couldn't... wait, what?"

"Hello, sir!" Twilight beamed at him from the middle of a heap of components that had once been an interplanar portal.

"Hello, Miss Sparkle," answered the augur in the sort of measured, neutral voice that speaks of barely controlled rage.

Jin turned to the group of subpraetors behind him, who seemed rather closer to the room's exit than a few moments before. He singled out the greatest among them and spoke to her in his throat-scouring native tongue. "Rhmir, why was this permitted to progress this far?"

Rhmir, Hand of the Augur, second only to Gitaxias himself, cringed. Since she'd been made in his image (though not exactly; no sense in suborning a true equal,) it was almost like the praetor's very reflection was cowering before him. "It is like the previous not-us," she explained. "Its status is unclear, as are to what disciplinary measures it is subject."

Gitaxias pondered this for a moment, finally giving a slow, reluctant nod. "I have been remiss in establishing her place in the greater hierarchy. That will be rectified. Still, I never suspected that she would take such extreme actions."

Rhmir pursed her fingers and clacked them nervously. "What will you do, my lord?"

"We will have to be..." An unsettling grumble echoed from somewhere in the praetor's thorax as he employed a word rarely heard in the Phyrexian language: "...delicate. She is a valuable asset, but to preserve that value, her mind and body must be allowed to compleat themselves with minimal external input."

"Then she will not suffer for this transgression!?" Rhmir cried.

Gitaxias shook his head. "Oh, she will pay. Not through pain, but through labor."

With that, he turned back to Twilight, who was examining a power conduit held in her telekinesis. "Miss Sparkle," the praetor said in Equestrian, "what exactly do you think you're doing?"

She set down the bundle of wire and smiled at him, her expression filled with the joy of discovery. "Well, sir—" She frowned, cutting herself off. "Wait, is that how I should address you?"

"It will do. Answer the question." After a moment's consideration, Jin added, "Please."

"Well," gushed Twilight, "I just couldn't sleep, and really, who could? An interplanar portal? I had to see how it worked for myself! I tried asking directions, but everexian—"

"'Everexian'?"

Twilight shrugged. "I can't go around saying 'everypony,' can I?"

"'Everyone,' perhaps?"

"I guess that works. Anyway, nore... er, no one was being cooperative, so I just felt along the time-space fabric of the universe for anomalies consistent with intrusions into a greater twelve-dimensional omnicosmos and followed them until I found this prototype."

"Prototype?" echoed Gitaxias.

Twilight scowled at the parts surrounding her. "Well, it certainly seems more like a proof of concept than a production model." She hoisted the cable she'd been scrutinizing earlier. "I mean, just take this manacoil. It's completely uninsulated, so you've got incredible power loss as it leaks into the greater superstructure. Furthermore, you've got to compensate for the standing charge you've built up in the frame, so that's a whole other subsystem you've got to power, and then you have to deal with the leakages from that... It's a mess!" Her expression briefly passed through alarm on its way to incredulity. "You... you haven't actually been getting to Equestria with this piece of junk, have you?"

"Do you think you could do better?" There was no mockery or bruised ego in Gitaxias's question, merely curiosity.

The unicorn smirked. "Does Princess Celestia like cake?"

"Does she?"

Twilight gave a nervous chuckle. "Um, sorry. Rhetorical question. I mean, yes, I could easily make a more efficient design."

The praetor nodded. "Then do so. Now."

"N-now?" Twilight swallowed. "Um, b-but I..."

"This is no time for false modesty, Miss Sparkle," Gitaxias explained. "You have dismantled the fruit of years' worth of trial and error and found it wanting. If you can improve the design, then your criticism was not only justified, but necessary. If you cannot, you have committed malicious sabotage and will be dealt with as a saboteur." While his tone was calm and even, here he extended the fingers of one hand to emphasize the point. "I would greatly regret having brought you all this way only for you to fail us so soon."

"Fail?" Twilight's pupils shrank to pinpricks. For a moment, the Tiara of Magic, now permanently bonded to her skull, glimmered with an eldritch light. The unicorn looked at the parts around her with a newfound, terrible purpose. "I may need additional components."

"Of course." Gitaxias looked over his shoulder and rattled out a few words of Phyrexian at his subordinates, who then fled for the exit. Turning back to Twilight, the praetor assured her, "A drone will be sent in shortly. It will understand your every word and will fetch whatever you need, so long as we have it. Remember that this world is very different from your own, and many materials whose abundance you take for granted will be rare or even nonexistent here."

"The converse may also be true," Twilight muttered, her horn aglow as she sorted parts and materials by some just-devised system. "Materials precious in Equestria could be common as dirt here."

"Soil is an excellent example of what I was talking about," noted Jin.

"It's an expression," the unicorn snapped, deep in thought. "What about crystals? Gemstones?"

Gitaxias shook his head. "Rare to the point of mythical status. It is said that there is but one opal in all the world."

"Banish it. I'll figure out something. I won't fail you, sir."

"I trust that you won't, Miss Sparkle." The praetor walked out, well pleased with himself.

Lyra did a double take when she saw the next volunteer. "I'd never have expected you."

The other mare shrugged. "Well, what can I say? 'Now is the time for all good ponies to come to the aid of their country,' right?"

"True enough," allowed the unicorn.

"Besides, there's the question of training. There's been great turnout, but if nopony knows what they're doing, then they're nothing but cannon fodder."

"Hey!" Cannon Fodder frowned at the mares from his place in line.

"No offense."

"That's where you come in," Lyra surmised.

"Well, I can't promise they'll be up to Guard standards, but they definitely won't embarrass themselves."

"Given the timeframe, that's almost more than we could ask for." Lyra offered her hoof. "Welcome to the Ponyville Militia, Sarge."

The earth mare smiled as they shook hooves. "Oh, you don't have to call me Sarge. I'm only Sarge to the recruits. For you, I'm still just Cheerilee."

"Rarity?" The disguised unicorn turned and beheld a befuddled Rainbow Dash clad head-to-hoof in a fog poncho that went quite nicely with her coat. "What are you doing here?"

While the actual unicorn hesitated for a moment, her illusory self didn't so much as bat an eyelash. "I could ask you the same thing, Rainbow. I didn't think nails and plywood saw much use in a house made of clouds."

"They don't," answered Dash. She jerked her head back, indicating the two broad white tubs balanced on her back. "Nimbus epoxy does. So what about you? I figured if you ever had a home repair problem, you'd just make googoo eyes at the nearest stallion."

"Well!" Rarity threw up her muzzle in indignation before bringing it back down to glare at the pegasus. "I'll have you know that when I moved into the Boutique, my father made sure I was sufficiently acquainted with household upkeep that I'd never have to so shamelessly exploit my feminine wiles."

Dash took a moment to parse this. "I didn't hear a 'no.'"

Rarity betrayed not a jot of awareness of the observation. "Why the coat, if I may ask? Going storm herding in the Everfree?"

The talk of weather work waylaid the wing-warped mare. "Are you kidding? Ever since AJ told us about the extra-creepy stuff in there, I've made sure everypony knows to stay out of Everfree airspace."

The unicorn nodded. "Very wise of you. So, the coat?"

Dash looked at the oilcloth as though she'd just noticed it. "Oh. Huh. Would you look at that? Um..." She shifted uneasily for a moment, her hooves tapping out a brief, anxious staccato. "Um... say, what happened over at your place? I might be able to help."

Rarity smiled and gave her friend a knowing look. "It's kind of you to offer, Rainbow Dash, but that was a horribly transparent attempt to change the subject."

Something on the floor caught Dash's attention. "I let it work for you..." she grumbled.

The designer had the decency to look embarrassed. "I suppose you did." She sighed. "I think it's clear that we're both here for reasons we'd rather not discuss." She held out a forehoof. "Truce?"

Dash nodded eagerly. "Truce." She took the hoof in her own.

Well, she tried to. She ended up going right through it. Her eyes widened in shock as she stared at Rarity.

The alabaster mare was tittering at herself. "Oh, silly me, I went and forgot—" She finally noticed her friend's reaction. "Rainbow Dash?"

"G-g-g-g-g-g-g-g..."

"Oh, please don't do anything foalish, dear. Especially not in such a public venue."

"GHO-ff!" Dash's cry was cut muffled midway by a now-solid white hoof stuffed into her mouth.

Rarity paused for a moment, waiting to see if the outcry had attracted any attention and trying not to think about what Dash's desperate gnawing was doing to her hooficure. As the true her knelt next to the pegasus, forehooves synchronized with those of her disguise, she whispered, "Now listen carefully, Dash. I am not a ghost. Nor am I a specter, a wraith, or any other such thing. I am simply in a state that I'd like to keep from prying eyes and gossiping tongues. I suspect your situation is rather similar, correct?"

Dash nodded reluctantly.

"Alright then. Do you promise not to scream if I uncover your mouth?"

Another nod, this one with no hesitation.

"Good." Rarity uncovered Dash's mouth. In defiance of narrative tradition, Dash didn't scream. The fashionista beamed. "Now, let us gather our purchases, be on our respective ways, and never speak of this again!"

The pegasus frowned. "Rarity, I know I'm not gonna be able to hide this forever, and for all your magic, neither will you. I'm gonna tell AJ and Fluttershy. And you, once we're somewhere where nopony else can see us. You should, too."

Rarity responded with a high, throaty laugh. "Au contraire, dear Rainbow. As long as I keep my wits about me, this illusion of mine is foolproof!"

Seriousness clouded Dash's expression. "Rarity, I'm speaking from experience here: ignoring or hiding a problem doesn't fix it, it just lets it get worse. You're gonna mess up. You already have, for Celestia's sake! I'm not saying everypony in town's gotta know, but you should at least tell your friends."

Rarity sat and thought on this for a moment. Dash joined her, trying to gauge her thoughts by watching her face. After a short time, the designer sighed and stood. "You're absolutely right, Rainbow Dash." Her lips curved into a sly smile. "What a strange day this is if you're acting as the voice of reason."

Deash wingshrugged underneath her poncho. "If I'm not there for my friends when they've made mistakes I already have, then what good am I?"

Rarity nodded. "Too true. When were you planning on telling us your little secret?"

"Um, I hadn't quite figured out that part," Dash admitted. "Do you know where Flutts and AJ are right now?"

The knock on her door came as a surprise to Fluttershy. Most ponies came to her for veterinary care only when Mane Goodall was fully booked, and by the time that happened, Dr. Goodall had already asked for her help. Still, no sense in being rude. "Hello?"

"Howdy!" A yellow-coated, green-maned earth mare beamed at her.

"Eep!" Fluttershy stumbled back, caught off guard by the enthusiastic greeting.

"Golly, Ah'm sorry." The stranger approached and knelt. "Didn't mean t' give ya a scare, there. Y' okay, miss?"

"Oh, y-yes, thank you." Fluttershy offered a shy smile as she stood back up. "Sorry, I'm rather easily startled."

The other pony nodded. "Well, Ah kin see that." She looked around and frowned. "Aw, shoot, Ah'm early, ain't Ah?"

"I beg your pardon?" Fluttershy definitely didn't recall arranging anything that a pony could be early for. Was this for a surprise party? "Did Pinkie Pie send you?"

Her guest shook her head. "'Fraid Ah don't know no Pinkie Pie. Cousin Applejack called us all t' Ponyville."

"So, you'd be..."

"Didn't Ah say? Ah'm Apple Fritter." Fritter sighed. "An' it looks like Ah showed up too dang early. Again."

Fluttershy swallowed. "Uh, are you, um, entirely sure you came to the right house? This, well, it isn't Sweet Apple Acres. You probably knew that but..."

Apple Fritter nodded. "Oh, real sure. Jackie's letter made that much clear. Th' cottage just outside th' forest."

"Ah. I see." Fluttershy could feel her wings twitching. "A-and exactly how many members of her family did Applejack invite to my house?"

"Cain't say fer sure." Fritter pondered it for a moment. "She sent out letters to near every Apple in Equestria, but Ah figgered it'd be better t' just come instead o' waitin' fer a rusvup t' get here first."

"An RSVP?"

"Yeah, one o' them."

"Ah." Unnoticeable in the daylight, Fluttershy's mane began to fluoresce as her inherent kindness magic struggled against her building rage. "I tell you what, Miss Fritter. You make yourself comfortable, and I'll see if I can't find your cousin."

Apple Fritter rubbed one foreleg against the other. "Well, Ah don' wanna impose. Ah kin always just find a hotel fer th' night."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all," Fluttershy assured her. "Applejack and I will be back before you know it."

"Well, that's awful kind of ya, but—"

"Before. You. Know it." Fluttershy wasn't quite using the full-fledged Stare on the unsuspecting Apple, but the unblinking insistence was nearly as good.

"S-sure. Ah'll just wait here." Apple Fritter sat on the couch and avoided eye contact as her hostess left. "Hoo boy. Cousin, Ah don' envy you one bit."

Fluttershy didn't have far to go. As soon as she stepped out of her house, she spotted an orange dot on the horizon. She marched towards it, purpose-driven.

Applejack smiled as she saw Fluttershy approach. "Howdy, sugarcube!" The farmer paused as her friend grew closer and the scowl on her face became clear. "Uh, everythin' alright?"

"Applejack," Fluttershy intoned, "why is one of your cousins in my house, expecting more of your family?"

The earth mare frowned as she considered this. "Well, that's funny. Ah was comin' t' tell ya... Ah shoot, Fritter came early, didn't she? Ah swear, that filly'd show up fer th' Summer Sun Celebration come Winter Wrap-Up."

"Applejack." Fluttershy appeared in no mood for folksy family foibles. "I have enough trouble with the ponies I see in town every day. Why are you sending an entire clan of overexcited, extraverted strangers to my house?"

Applejack sighed. "Th' way Ah see it, we've got enough troubles without th' whole dang Everfree goin' rotten an' burstin' all over Equestria like somepony stepped on it. Ah didn't call no hootenanny, Fluttershy. Ah called in an army."

"Oh." The pegasus gathered the dregs of her indignation. "Well, in the future, could you tell me beforehoof, please?"

Applejack smirked. "That's what Ah was comin' t' tell ya now, sugarcube. Fritter jus' went an' jumped th' gun is all."

"I see." The pair began walking back to Fluttershy's cottage as she noted, "You know, Angel has been doing something similar with the woodland critters."

"Somehow, that don't surprise me much. Li'l fella's got more surprises in 'im than a field o' poison joke."

"I think the two of you should work together," continued Fluttershy. "It's just a thought, but it seems like together you'd be stronger than the sum of your parts."

Applejack thought on this for a moment. "Ah reckon yer right there, 'Shy. Ah'll have t' warm up th' family t' the idea, but that ain't gonna be much trouble." A thought struck her. "Where is Angel, anyway?"

Archon of Justice fought to keep himself outwardly calm. He doubted that the other party would notice his panic, but soiling himself would do him no favors in this negotiation. "So," he asked, "are we in agreement?"

The reply was a deafening antisound from the other side of silence, a vast auditory void that shaped its words in intervals of normal silence amidst the negative din. WE ARE. YOU WERE WISE TO COME TO ME. MANY OF MY KIND WOULD NOT CARE.

Archon prostrated himself. "You honor me, Great One."

I MERELY SPEAK TRUTH.

The lagomath swallowed. "How will you aid us?" There. He'd said it. No details had been established until now, merely a pledge of assistance.

WHEN THE TIME COMES, YOU WILL KNOW. NOW GO.

Archon did so, dignity discarded for the sake of speed.

"Trixie! Trixie!"

The blue unicorn muttered something that blurred the line between unintelligible and unprintable, then turned so she was facing the wall.

"Come on, Trixie! Today is the first day of the rest of your research!"

Trixie clenched her teeth. She might have heard Princess Celestia's stories about Twilight secondhoof from Luna, but she distinctly recalled the unicorn's behavior in the morning being described as "drowsily adorable." This was neither.

There came the sound like a fork on a wineglass magnified a hundredfold. Tink tink tink. "Trixie." Tink tink tink. "Trixie." Tink tink tink. "Trixie."

"WHAT!?" Trixie screamed. "What do you want, Twilight? What couldn't possibly wait until I woke up normally? And what were you using to make that infernal racket?"

"Could you open the door first?" came the sheepish reply.

Grumbling foul curses that countless invocations had proved totally powerless, Trixie trudged to the access valve and, not knowing how she'd locked it in the first place, simply smacked it with a forehoof.

To her surprise, this worked. The door dilated, revealing Twilight, who was grinning like a foal at five in the morning on Hearth's Warming Day. The purple mare entered the room, chattering in a voice far too chipper for any time of day. "So, to answer your questions, going from first to last: Knowledge, science, and, well..." She raised a forehoof, which was coated in flowing silvery metal much like the ponies' surroundings. She then rapidly rapped at Trixie's horn.

Tink tink tink.

Trixie's pupils shrank. "That," she stated, "was not the sound of metal on horn."

"Nope!" gushed Twilight.

"That," continued Trixie, "was metal on metal."

"Yup!"

"How in the name of Discord's mismatched gonads did that happen?"

"I have no idea!" Twilight cried. "Isn't it exciting?" She paused and screwed up her face in disgust. "Also, ew."

Trixie sighed and rubbed a temple. This was going to be a long day. She trotted towards the door. "Well, let's—" She stopped as she realized she was walking on all four legs, yet was still physically massaging her face. "What the..."

"Fascinating!" Twilight had found a notebook somewhere and was currently scribbling notes. "Some sort of articulated trichtodendrite structure. It might be connected directly to your cerebellum!"

"What..." Much to Trixie's relief, her magic felt no different from before, even with a metal horn. The Summon Mirror spell came to her as easily as ever, and with it she could see the change for herself.

Like live worms in vermicelli, cobalt-chrome wires writhed in her mane. Each ended in a set four nasty little snappy things somewhere between teeth and claws. Trixie willed the mirror out of existence and looked at Twilight in terror. "What's happening to me?"

The valve to the suite opened again, and the revealed Clinical Trial answered her question. "You are becoming compleat, Miss Hobbitses. This way, please, ladies."

As the sun set outside, Lyra sighed and laid back in her basement "thinking chair," a comfortably overstuffed lounger she'd made by heavily modifying a love seat. She watched the golden communication spell form while relishing the lumbar support. When the face of one of her human analogues formed, she asked, "Well?"

The woman in the physical Office of Quantum Affairs (Strings Section) unrolled a scroll and solemnly read, "Hear now the judgement of Bonbon Thronetaker, The Thousand-Voiced, Suneater and Moongobbler, She Who... what?"

The unicorn struggled to contain herself. "Sorry, but it's hard enough taking one of the boss lady's proclamations seriously when it isn't being read by someone in a Playcolt bunny outfit."

The window between worlds was a monochrome gold-and-black, but the other Lyra was almost certainly blushing. "I am not going to take any guff about my outfit from a tiny, naked horse!"

The lounging Lyra raised her hooves in a conciliatory gesture. "Sorry, sorry. Read on, hairless ape."

The woman rolled her eyes and set the scroll aside. "Not after you ruined the mood. Suffice to say, you're approved. Just be careful. Her Bonness doesn't want any Lyras getting hurt."

"Nor do I." Lyra sank into her chair as the gold-glowing cosmic string slowed to a halt and faded. She straightened back up as she heard an unusual sound: Someone else's hooves on the basement steps.

"Lyra?" The worry in Bonbon's tone matched her expression.

The unicorn put her seat back in an upright position and moved towards her fillyfriend. "Hey, Bonnie." She gave the earth mare a loving nuzzle.

Bonbon didn't reciprocate. She looked at the floor, her eyes haunted. "I'm scared, Lyra."

The minty mare smiled. "We all are. You'd have to be crazy not to be."

"It's all just happened so fast. A few days ago, the worst I had to worry about was a strike at the Orlandoats sugar refinery. Now?" Bonbon shuddered.

Lyra embraced her beloved. "It'll be okay, Bonnie. I'll be here for you."

"Will you?"

The question stunned the unicorn. A chill pierced her heart like she'd been stabbed with an icicle. "O-of course I will! I love you with all my heart!"

"The Lyra I know does." Bonbon looked at Lyra, tears soaking into her cheeks. "You? You're a stranger."

The unicorn tightened her hug, if only so she wouldn't have to look into those frightened eyes. "I'm still me, Bonnie. Come what may, I'm always me."

"I want to believe that, but—"

"If you want to believe it, then believe it!" Anger and passion built in Lyra's tone. "Bonbon Dulcinea, I would move mountains for you. I would break my horn. I would do the dishes!"

Bonbon laughed into the unicorn's neck. "Well, if you really feel that strongly."

"I do."

The two held each other for some time, saying nothing. Finally, Lyra said, "Um, by the way..."

Bonbon smiled. "What did you do?"

"Got you an apprentice?"

The smile became a scowl. Bonbon let go of Lyra and looked her in the eye. "And who will I teach how to turn sugar and cream into lethal weapons?"

The unicorn couldn't return her gaze. "Well, you know Doctor Fracture, the pediatrician?"

This prompted a chuckle. "What happened to 'first, do no harm'?"

"It isn't him," clarified Lyra. "It's... his daughter."

"His daughter?" Bonbon recalled old news of a filly with a candy cane cutie mark. "Twist!?"

"She really is quite talented," Lyra muttered.

Bonbon applied hoof to face. "It must be you, Lyra. Only you could make me this frustrated."

Iron Will squeezed his way out of the Friendship Express, trying to avoid permanently warping the pony-scale doorway. Bill, of course, had no such issues.

"I tell ya, Bill," groused the motivational minotaur, "there's just no consideration for the biped in this country. It's like they pick the most pointless concessions on purpose. Park benches? Really? Where are the bedframes that can handle a minotaur's weight? Where are the gorgon-specific hair care products? Where are the menus offering the five basic rock groups critical to a troll's nutrition?"

"Baa," Bill noted.

"It shouldn't matter how much their economy relies on tourism! All I'm saying is that they should do more to acknowledge the presence of the world's non-equinoid peoples."

"Still arguin' politics wit' goats, Bro?" asked a reedy, nasal voice with a Manehattan accent. "Figured you'da given it up for somethin' more rewardin' by now. Like eatin' broken glass."

"Please," rumbled a voice that could throw off nearby seismographs. "He has enough trouble swallowing his pride as it is."

Iron Will grinned. "Sparerib! Chuckmeat! It's been too long!"

Two other minotaurs grinned back. The shorter one was all sinew and gristle, thin to the point of emaciation. He was clad in bicycle shorts, a nose ring similar to Iron Will's, and enough pomade to turn his hair into a shellacked, aerodynamic helmet that was spoiled only by the thin points of the horns that jutted out of it. He simply couldn't stand still, shifting from foot to foot, shaking out his hands, and otherwise burning off nervous energy. His fur was the grey-green of dusty houseplants and habitual envy. "Heh, 'Sparerib.' Ortie ain't called me dat in years. It's good ta see ya, real good."

The other seemed to have claimed the majority of his companion's bulk for his own. He did not merely stand there, he bulged, his muscles seemingly more immense than one body could contain. The slightest movement sent ripples throughout his form that, like echoes in an opera house, never faded away completely. His black hair was buzzed short, his fur the deep red of the muscle underneath, his nose ring struggling for space in his mighty septum. He wore a three-piece suit that was almost audibly straining at the seams. "Quite," he said. "Thanks for the nostalgia trip, Headcheese."

Iron Will chuckled. "Okay, I had that one coming. So, where's the old ox?"

"Baa," Bill said a moment too late.

His boss groaned. "Of course he is." Iron Will turned and knelt. "No offense intended, Your Highness."

The creature to whom he bowed smirked. He seemed chiseled from white marble, his muscles sculpted and defined without the borderline grotesquery of his red vassal. He wore ceremonial plate mail engraved with countless scenes of the minotaurs' martial conquest against nearly every other sapient race on the planet, with the notable exception of ponies. Two pairs of grand horns emerged from the sides of his head, two sweeping forward and two curving up, all gleaming like the tusks of a elephant dentist. Is his nose was an unadorned loop of platinum.

Angus the White, King of Minos, Master of Mazes, He Who is Reminded of the Babe, smiled and punched Iron Will in the shoulder. "Get up, you drama queen. You're going to embarrass us all."

The blue minotaur obeyed and, in the warm grip of nostalgia, fell in between his two brothers.

Angus looked over his impromptu diplomatic corps. "Great Fortitude. Iron Will. Lightning Reflexes. ...Goat."

"Bah."

"My apologies. William Tincanopolous. I have called... most of you here today so that I may demonstrate my commitment to the alliance between Minos and Equestria. You are brave, but not foolish. You are wise, but not pompous. You are honorable, but not chumps. Once you have been formally presented to Celestia, you are to take on the role of tacticians. Equestria has not fought war, true war, in a very long time. You will teach them all they will need to know."

Iron Will frowned. A dangerously ambiguous statement, that one. "And how much will that be?"

Angus looked towards Castle Canterlot. "Look at it, boys. Tall and glittering and beautiful. Their palace doesn't have to be a fortress, a squat iron thing buried at the heart of a labyrinth pretending to be a city."

"How much, Dad?" Iron Will asked again.

The minotaur king was silent for some time. "As much," he finally replied, "as they can handle."

He made for the castle, his back to the setting sun. Neither minotaur nor goat dared to stay behind.

Angus, Lord of Minos 2RGW
Legendary Creature — Minotaur Warrior
Trample
At the beginning of combat on your turn, you may have creatures you control gain battle cry until end of turn. If you do, those creatures attack this turn if able.
Whenever Angus, Lord of Minos deals combat damage to a player, untap all creatures you control.
His command is the pebble that starts an avalanche of horns and hooves.
2/5

Spore Transmutation 2UU
Enchantment
Each permanent with a counter on it is an artifact in addition to its other types.
Mycosynth spores changed flesh to metal, metal to flesh, and Argentum to Phyrexia.

Aggressive Regimen

That night saw many a ticket purchased, many a train ridden. Some fled for parts unknown, or at least obscure. Others came to the heart of Equestria from its edges, most of them driven by duty and pride. Some were pulled by the ties of family, others by the chance to ply skills that, while unwelcome by many, were always in demand.

In the Everfree, lagomath envoys spread amongst the nocturnal beasts, spreading word of war with a force far greater and more dangerous than the hoof of pony.

In the Drakenridge, griffins and Diamond Dogs licked their wounds and whetted their blades, readying themselves for the next day's conflict against the iron-shelled aberrations that would steal their home out from under them.

In Canterlot, the stars themselves danced according to their mistress's whim. Astronomers and astrologers across the world would cry foul, but Ungula needed all the help it could get, and even goddesses had their analogues to prayer.

The next day promised to be a momentous one. It would not disappoint.

There are almost as many ways to awaken as there are sleepers: Alarm clocks, splashes of cold water, dramatic cries in the deserts of Arrakis, the list goes on.

This morning, Rainbow Dash rediscovered her least favorite of these methods, an eagle the size of a lion screeching in her ear.

The pegasus gave a panicked, wordless whinny as she reared up, wings flared, eyes darting wildly for an escape route. Her adrenaline-sharpened senses detected a hint of predatory musk, a prickle of hungry magic, a familiar, raspy laugh—

Hay, wait a minute.

Dash's conscious mind finally reasserted control, allowing her to glare at the griffin who was all but rolling on her bedroom floor. "Really, G?"

Gilda composed herself. Mostly. A chuckle or two escaped her smirking beak before she replied, "Come on, Dash. I owe you a lot more than that for last time. Besides, my CO says nothin' wakes you up like fight-or-flight."

"Yeah, well, that may work for griffins, but—" Rainbow paused as one detail registered. "See-oh?"

Gilda casually examined her talons. "Well, after my best friend gave me the brush-off, I didn't have a lot of options."

"G, I—"

"Jo– Oh, you ever meet my sister Jocasta? Anyway, she put in a good word for me when I got home and I started Basic a week later." She gave a sardonic grin. "Centurion Gilda grr-Gisela of the 105th Skirmishers, at your service."

Dash shifted from hoof to hoof for a moment. "Um, congratulations?"

Gilda sighed. "Ponies."

"What's that supposed to mean!?" cried the pegasus.

"You lame-os just can't wrap your grass-eater brains around anything military. Think about it, Dash. First time I show up after that pink maniac's so-called party and I tell you I'm a soldier." Gilda tapped Dash's forehead. "News Flash: This ain't a social call."

Dash glowered as she batted away the offending talon. "Okay, G? What you just said was so full of horseapples, I'm amazed your tongue didn't turn brown."

The griffin rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Dash."

Rainbow shook her head. "Oh no, you don't get to 'whatever' away this one. First of all, 'grass-eater brains'? Really? Last I checked, wheat was a grass, you donut fiend.

"As for the military, I got one word for you: Pegasopolis. There's a loop-de-looping statue of Commander Typhoon in front of City Hall in Cloudsdale. The Griffin Emperor was called Grigori the Handsome before she met up with him. Know what they called him afterwards?"

"Grigori Broken-Beak," Gilda grudgingly grumbled. "Since when do you know anything about history?"

Dash gave a wingshrug, belying her smug grin. "I paid attention in class now and again. Especially when kicking flank was involved." She certainly wasn't going to admit that she'd borrowed some history books from the library after reading Daring Do and the Helm of Hurricane.

A growl rumbled in the back of Gilda's throat. "Look, I'm not here to argue who beat up who hundreds—"

"Thousands."

"A whole feathering lot of years ago!" The griffin took a deep breath. "Your princesses sent a request for aid to the High Aerie."

"Oh." Dash shifted uneasily. "Um, wow. Didn't know it was that serious. Um, shouldn't you be in Canterlot, then?"

Gilda shrugged. "Eh, like they're gonna miss one squawk for a few hours."

Dash frowned. "So, what, you went AWOL just to say 'Hi'?"

Gilda looked down, worrying at the fluffy flooring. "Dash, this is war we're talking about. I could get killed. I... I didn't want your last memory of me be me with my hackles up, calling you a flip-flop." She gave a grim chuckle. "I mean, I could've at least come up with a better insult."

"G..."

The griffin sighed and stood up. "This was a mistake. I should go."

Before Dash could stop her, Gilda sank through the floor. By the time the mare made it outside, her foalhood friend was already a speck receding towards Canterlot. Dash watched as the distance grew, both physically and metaphorically, her heart heavy.

This lasted for all of about five seconds. "Rut this." In a blast of exhaust and a reversal of the food chain, the pegasus chased after the griffin.

"Aaaaand... done!" Twilight beamed at her work, a vastly more efficient portal than the one she'd torn down... huh. There was a question.

"Drone?" she called. The lump of spare organs had refused any other attempts to name it. "How long have I been working on this?"

"By Equestrian time," came the dull, uninflected reply, "eleven hours, thirty-seven minutes, forty...-five seconds."

"Well worth it, I think," Twilight said proudly. "Now to test the thing." She moved to the control console and flipped the big, friendly looking switch in the middle.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the light in the polished archway began to spiral like water down a drain. In the center of the distortion, a pinhole of clarity formed, then rapidly dilated, revealing a coastline. The countless piers, impressive buildings, and verdigrised colossus in the harbor identified it as Manehattan.

"Success!" cried Twilight. "Huzzah!"

"Well done, Miss Sparkle. Well done, indeed."

The unicorn jumped, adding in a half-spin midway to face her unexpected audience with a smile. "Thank you, sir!"

"Now," prompted Jin-Gitaxias, "are there any other faults in the Progress Engine that only an outsider's perspective can detect?"

Twilight considered this. It was a topic she'd been pondering during the duller moments of component assembly. "Well, since you asked..."

Fluttershy took a deep breath to steady her nerves. It didn't work. There were just too many strange, loud ponies in what was supposed to be her personal sanctum. She took another deep breath. Then another. She stopped when she began to feel lightheaded and decided to just go for it. A mantra of assertiveness surfaced in her memory. "Never wait or hesitate," she whispered.

"Beg pardon?" Big Macintosh wasn't going to comment on the heavy breathing; he seemed to have that effect on some mares. Normally, he'd do the same with muttering, but with Fluttershy, it could've been an attempt to strike up a conversation. Stranger things had happened.

"Oh! Nothing, nothing." The pegasus took a sudden, deep interest in a clump of moss.

Neither spoke for some time. Finally, Fluttershy gathered enough courage to squeak out, "Um, Big Mac?"

"Eeyup?"

"Th-this is going to be very dangerous."

"Eeyup," the stallion said solemnly.

"Are you scared?"

Macintosh considered what he'd heard from Applejack and Zecora, the wounds scarring the timberwolf that had died in Granny Smith's lap, the rumors trickling in on Twilight Sparkle's madness. No, he could not deny the icy knot of dread in his heart. "Eeyup."

Fluttershy swallowed, her mouth drier than the San Palomino Desert. This was it. The moment of truth. "D-do you think that—"

"Cousin Macintosh!" Braeburn trotted towards them excitedly. "Cousin Applejack wants t' talk with ya!" He noticed Fluttershy and tipped his hat. "Howdy, Miss Fluttershy. She'd like t' see you too, if y' ain't busy."

For a moment, a flame of rage roared in the mare's heart. With a sigh, she let it peter out. "Okay." Another time, she told herself, when their doom didn't lurk on the horizon.

As the trip walked to the improvised army's de facto general, Fluttershy felt something brush against her side. Her gaze darted up from the ground. Big Mac smiled and gave her a wink.

Applejack was with Zecora at a table with a piece of paper. Each mare had a pencil in her mouth, and together they were composing as much of a map as the Everfree would tolerate. When she noticed the trio of approaching ponies, the farmhoof gave her friend a worried look. "Everything okay there, 'Shy?"

The pegasus blinked. "Hmm?"

"'Tween yer face an' yer wings," Applejack elaborated, "y' look like y' seen a ghost."

Fluttershy looked back. Her wings were erect. Almost painfully so, now that she noticed. "Eep!" She furled them so fast that she rose a few inches. Her face felt like a bonfire.

None of the Apples knew quite what to make of this. Finally, Applejack said, "Guess Ah'll take that as a 'yes.'"

"Whaddaya need, Sis?"

AJ hesitated. Coming from anypony else, that might have been said with undue haste, but Big Macintosh had said it. "Big Macintosh" and "undue haste" only appeared in the same sentence in "love poison" was in there as well. Dismissing the matter, the freckled mare said, "Git everypony t'gether. An' th' rabbits too."

Braeburn frowned. "Ah don't trust them varmints. 'Tain't natural."

"Many of them don't trust us," noted Fluttershy.

The Appleoosan balked at this. "What! We've been right hospitable to' em!"

The pegasus nodded. "I know. That's the problem."

Braeburn just stared at her for a moment, then shook his head and turned away. "Cuz, Ah'm gonna go gather th' family," he said over his shoulder. "Tell me when yer friend starts makin' sense again."

Applejack gave a sheepish grin. "Sorry, Fluttershy. If that colt can't wrap 'is head 'round an idea in th' time it takes t' buck a tree, he don't bother with it."

"It's fine. They do trust you and me, since we're Bearers, and Zecora, since they know her. They're just uneasy around most ponies. They think we'll take away their independence."

Applejack nodded. "Well, go an' ask 'em nice-like. We need all th' help we kin get, an' Ah wanna stay on their good side."

Fluttershy returned the nod. "Of course."

As the pegasus trotted off, curiosity gnawed at Zecora. "Applejack, if I may ask, why did you request this task?"

"Ah reckon there's certain things what need doin' at a time like this, an' Ah aim t' do 'em."

The zebra frowned. "I don't quite grasp what you've opined. Just what did you have in mind?"

"Ah'm gonna rally th' troops with an inspirin' speech."

Several choice couplets rushed to the tip of Zecora's tongue. Before she could voice them, there came a sound that was heard as much as felt, a deep rumble that came up through hooves and bones. The zebra gave her friend a look that blended amazement and respect. "A mighty growl that I would place as worse than those of beasts we face."

Applejack scowled at the ground. "Yeah, yeah, rub it in, why don't ya."

Zecora offered a conciliatory smile. "I just observe, I do not mock. About this would you like to talk?"

The farmhoof snickered. "Yer soundin' like that one puppet thing in Barn Wars." Her expression swiftly returned to seriousness. "But actually? Ah think Ah should. Ah've bin tryin', but Ah cain't ignore this."

"For energy, you understand, your body has a great demand," Zecora reminded her. "You've hunger beyond your control to make you feed your growing soul."

"Ah know, but if at this rate, mah stomach's gonna put Sweet Apple Acres outta business."

The zebra quirked an eyebrow. "Applejack, I truly yearn that that could be your worst concern."

"Well," AJ added, "it also ain't right t' seem like Ah'm more worried 'bout food than th' army what's up an' decided Ah'm in charge of it."

Zecora nodded, her gaze distant. "Hmm..."

"That a good hmm or a bad hmm?"

"While at the moment I'm not sure, the idea has a strange allure." The shaman nodded to herself as she considered the thought. "You'd need not endlessly devour if you could feed on verdant power."

Applejack tilted her head. "Care t' run that one by me again, Sugarcube?"

Zecora shook her head. "This is not the place or time." She then gave a sheepish grin and admitted, "Plus, the terms are hard to rhyme. For now, go lead your soldier herds, and later I'll have found the words."

Bunnies and buckers were beginning to filter into the clearing. Applejack nodded. "Whatever y' say, Zecora. Ah'm sure whatever's got ya thinkin' is gonna help."

"I thank you for your faith in me. Now go and give your homily."

"Right." The mare turned to her growing audience. She could see Braeburn, Fluttershy, and Mac bringing in the stragglers. Good a time as any.

Applejack cleared her throat, which did a lot more to quiet down the murmuring conversations than she'd expected. After a moment of hesitation from all the eyes on her, she began. "Hares, family, Fluttershy, lend me yer ears. Y'all've been called here t'day t' face an evil th' likes o' which y'all've probably never seen. Ah won't lie to ya; this ain't gonna be nice, it ain't gonna be fun, an' it ain't gonna be pretty. What it is is necessary. If we don't root out the nasty critters what're gettin' a hoofhold in th' Everfree, then th' whole dang world might as well turn around an' kiss its sweet patoot goodbye."

Applejack's gaze panned across her audience as she began to pace. "Some o' you Ah've known fer years, an' them Ah trust, with mah life if necessary. Others Ah'm meetin' fer th' first time t'day, but Ah like t' think o' mahself as a good judge o' character, an y' know what? Lookin' at ya, Ah trust you too." She grinned. "Now who's ready t' kick some flank?"

She was answered by a chorus of cheers, whistles, thrown hats, and an almost inaudible "Yay."

Sheoldred pondered the pink pony perched prostrate upon her. It had finally stopped talking, thank the Father. Indeed, it seemed to be less asleep than run down, as though it were a thing not of flesh but of clockwork.

It would be so easy to end the thing here and now, but if there was one vice the Whispering One shared with her chromed brother, it was curiosity. The pony seemed utterly harmless, yet it had slain three of the Steel Thanes in a matter of hours. The creature's innocuous lethality intrigued Sheoldred, as did its necklace. A shame the jewelry had already fused with its wearer's body; it was clearly an item of great power. Ah well, she could flense it from the pony's corpse when it had outlived its novelty.

Hmm. Best get on that. Sheoldred extended a hand, gently but firmly driving her claws into Pinkie Pie's head. "Let the examination begin," mused the praetor.

Rarity looked up, blinking as her strained eyes struggled to refocus on details larger than a grain of rice. "I do believe it is complete," she proclaimed, setting down the magnifier and numerous fine tools with which she had made the final adjustments to the "living accessory" socket.

Spike nodded. "When would you like to begin the implantation, my Lady?"

The fashionista sighed. "We'd best get it over with sooner rather than later." Swathed in periwinkle magic, a sterile cloth draped itself over the measuring stage. Rarity lay down on the fabulous dais, spine up. "Right shoulder, please, Spike."

The mutated dragon took a scalpel in claw, but hesitated. A drop of makeshift disinfectant (a bottle of finest Stalliongrad vodka from a grateful member of House Orlov) dripped from the blade. "Forgive me for the impending discomfort, my Lady."

"A small price to pay, darling, I assure you."

A habit ingrained in Spike during such procedures came to the fore. Both dragon and pony couldn't help but think that Twilight would be proud to hear her assistant/little brother/son announce, "Making the first incision."

"...and you really should have done more to preserve earlier bodies of knowledge," continued Twilight. "I mean, how many answers are you struggling to rediscover when they were written in scrolls you've destroyed all along?" She paused for a moment. "I think that's it."

"Ah. Well." Gitaxias gave an absent nod. "That should certainly fill any holes in my calendar this month. Thank you, Miss Sparkle. You may go now."

Twilight didn't move. "But that's just what's wrong! I haven't even gotten to what could be right."

"You. May. Go. Now." Hard as it was to notice, Gitaxias seemed to be gritting his teeth.

"Um, yes. Right. Bye!" The unicorn galloped off.

The praetor rubbed his distended cranium. "Maybe there really can be too much of a good thing."

"So, how'd Ah do?"

"At times it was trite, at others absurd, but not the worst pre-battle speech that I've heard."

Applejack quirked an eyebrow. She'd talked to Rarity often enough to know when she was being damned with faint praise. "What was, if y' don't mind mah askin'?"

Zecora's gaze grew distant, focused on the past. In a deeper voice than usual, she recited, "'The shamans say they've got a plan, but just in case, here. It's called a spear. Keep the sharp end pointed away from you and hope one of the bastards runs into it while charging.'" She smiled. "Thankfully, I never had to use it. Our foes grew so ill they could not even—"

"Hold that thought." Scowling, Applejack charged into the ranks. "Apple Bloom! What in Equestria d' you think yer doin', filly!?"

The little pony defiantly returned the scowl. "Ah'm helpin' save th' world, that's what!"

"No y' ain't. Git back home; th' Everfree ain't no place fer youngins at th' best o' times, an' these sure as hay ain't them."

Apple Bloom shook her head. "It's mah duty as an Apple. Ah ain't even th' youngest here!" Judging by the look of shock, her brain then caught up with her tongue. "Oops."

Terror, rage, and love warred in Applejack's heart, and only the most skilled empaths would've been able to distinguish them. Finally, with surprising calm, she said, "Right now, Bloom, yer duty as an Apple is t' stay safe."

"But—"

"No buts. Yer like a seed right now, darlin'. Cute as a button an' full o' potential, but it'll all be wasted if y' try t' do a tree's job 'fore ya sprout. Go an' fetch th' other foals. Y'all shouldn't be fighters; yer what we're fightin' for." Applejack embraced her sister. "Please."

Muffled against her shoulder, the farmhoof heard, "Ah guess Ah ain't gonna earn mah cutie mark in heroin', am Ah?"

"Ain't nothin' heroic 'bout what we're gonna do t'day, Bloom. Now git."

As Applejack watched Apple Bloom gather her fellow seeds, a warm voice sounded at the older sister's shoulder. "You may have kept her safe today, but she'll still try to get her way."

The blonde sighed. "Ah know. Jest another reason t' get this done quick, 'fore she does somethin' we'll all regret."

Zecora nodded. "With would-be child soldiers gone, we'll likely march before too long. You're certain that you will not ask for Ponyville's help with this task?"

"Ah called mah kin fer a reason, Zecora. We need ponies who ain't been raised on horror stories o' th' Everfree, who're used to a canopy overhead. Ponyville's good folk, but fear o' th' forest's in their bones."

"And you, young mare? Will you withstand manure when it hits the fan?"

Applejack's expression clouded. "Well, like Ah said, this ain't mah first rodeo. Still..." She shook her head. "Ah'll try mah best, but Ah ain't makin' any promises, fer me or mah kin."

"I've little fear you will defect," the zebra assured her. "Just keep in mind what you protect."

Applejack watched a line of little bodies headed back to Sweet Apple Acres, a bright red bow at the front. "Don't think that'll be a problem."

"Pinkie..."

"Mmm... don' wanna move rocks."

"Pinkie..."

"Wanna make apple pie from scratch. Gotta make a universe."

"Mom!"

This shocked the party pony out of her dozing. "Huh?" She looked around. Ground like a black-and-red checkered Superball. A sky filled with floating, disembodied smiles with a wide variety in dental formulae and degrees of hygiene. Seething calderas of hot chocolate, where half-molten, marshmallow-based life lurked. "What am I doing in my dementia space?" asked Pinkie.

"You're dreaming."

Pinkie turned to the voice and gasped. An unadorned alicorn, her eyes kind and sincere, her coat white as blank pages, her mane red as life's blood. The planeswalker didn't need to check for an inkwell cutie mark to recognize her. "Lauren?"

Discord's sister waved her head from side to side noncommittally. "Sort of. The bit of her that's in the Element of Laughter, at least."

"What is it?" Pinkie asked. "You've never tried to contact me like this before, so it must be important."

"It is." Lauren strode to a thick river of chocolava, her hooves making no impression on the hyperelastic surface of Pinkie's insanity made manifest. Her mother followed, considerably bouncier.

The alicorn dipped a hoof into the confectothermal liquid. As she pulled it out, six perfect spheres dripped off of the appendage. They arranged themselves into a pentagram, one at each point, one in the center, threads of igneous cocoa connecting them all. "These are the Elements of Harmony at their most fundamental," said Lauren. "Six parts of a whole, together yet separate, able to act, but only with the aid of a uniting agency." The chocolate came together and reshaped itself into a self-portrait of the spirit of order and harmony. "In time, once I had sufficiently rested, I could, in theory, restore myself."

Pinkie didn't miss the past tense. "Could?"

The pentagram reformed itself. "Well, the glistening oil complicated that," Lauren explained. The connecting strings thinned and broke apart. "The Elements are... not so much drifting apart as asserting individual identities independent of the whole. Independent of me." Each sphere formed itself into a pony, two of each tribe in total. "You and the other Bearers can still come together to use the Rainbow Beam of Fix Everything, but it won't be me doing the fixing. It'll be you."

"So what happens to you?" Pinkie cried. She wrapped her daughter in a massive hug. "I... I don't want to see you..."

Wings enveloped the pink mare. "I won't," Lauren assured her. "Especially not when Discord's set a precedent. Ever hear of the collective unconscious?"

Pinkie's answer was cut short by a loud scream. Mother and daughter looked up and saw what appeared to be a spider with too few legs, perpetually falling into one of the smiling sky-mouths and out of the one directly above it.

"Huh," noted Pinkie. "Uninvited guest." A clanking, rattling abomination that blurred the line between winged gila monster, oven, and Abrams tank clambered to her side. "Time to roll out the welcome wyvern."

Apple Family Posse 1GG
Creature — Pony
Trample
Apple Family Posse's power and toughness are each equal to the number of green permanents you control.
Nopony messes with the family.
*/*

Haunting Whispers XBB
Sorcery
Search target opponent's library for up to X cards and exile them. Then that player shuffles his or her library.
Every little uncertainty, every nagging doubt, every moment of hesitation is another puppet string for Sheoldred to pull.

Biopsy Punch

The infiltrator smiled to herself. Her mission had been dictated by the highest authority imaginable. Her target suspected nothing. Entry had been nearly effortless, the catflap in the back door of the Boutique left unguarded and unsecured. From there, it was a simple matter to approach the only source of sound in the building.

The infiltrator paused for a moment, savoring the anticipation. When she could resist no longer, she shoved open the door to the inspiration room and leapt inside, shouting to keep her target disoriented: "Hi, Rarity! Mom wanted me to check on you, 'cause Dad and her don't want you joining the militia, and I don't want you getting hurt either, and..."

Sweetie Belle trailed off, finally registering the scene before her. A gaunt dragon stood with its bloodied claws buried in her dear, sweet sister's back, while Rarity stared at her with fearful, pleading eyes. The filly reacted in away that she knew would make her sister proud. "Fainting couch, please."

As Sweetie collapsed, Spike cleared his throat. "Well, this is awkward."

"Quite," murmured Rarity. "How far along are we with the implantation?"

The dragon considered his handiwork. "One moment more, milady." He blew a plume of noxious flame over the socket he'd installed in the mare's shoulder, disinfecting and sealing the surgical incisions while charging the device with dragon magic.

Rarity gritted her teeth. She knew Spike was being as gentle as he could, but it was still dragonfire. "We must find a better way to finish the job."

"'Tis but a prototype, milady," Spike assured her. "More elegant designs will come with time. Now, as for your sister?"

"Of course." Rarity slid off of the impromptu operating table, encapsulating her sister in her magic. "I'll go put her in the guest room. Hopefully, we'll be able to pass this off as a nightmare."

Spike frowned. "What of your parents?"

The fashionista squared her shoulders, her features hardening into a mask of determination. "I have helped save the world from eternal night and chaos incarnate. A few days ago, I almost single-hoofedly held off an attempted invasion of Ponyville. Mother and Father are just going to have to accept that their eldest is destined for heroism."

The dragon nodded. "So you'll be telling them personally, then."

What little color there was left Rarity's alabaster-coated face. "Er, yes. I suppose so."

Spike gave a crocodile grin. "You're the heroine."

Gilda would lying if she said she had no regrets in her life, especially in regards to Rainbow Dash. Still, it just wasn't meant to be. Griffin-pony relations were strained in the best of times, given irreconcilable differences in both attitude and diet. One unusually cool pegasus couldn't change millennia of equine dweebishness and the tantalizing properties of horseflesh on the griffish palate. A friendship such as theirs lasting in the long term was impossible.

Of course, Rainbow Dash didn't know the meaning of the word "impossible." Or "irreconcilable." Or "tantalizing." Or...

The point was, a rocket-powered pegasus blasted past the fatalistic griffin, did a somersault, and came to a stop in front of her. Resting on a cloud of her own exhaust, Dash scowled at her friend. "What the hay, G?"

Gilda hovered in place as her brain tried to work out what just happened. "Dash?"

"You think you can just blow off your CO, barge into my house, insult my species, and then flap off into the sunset?"

"It's, like, not even noon."

"Well you've got another thing coming, catbutt!" Dash scowled. "Look, we both messed up. You should've chilled out, I should've noticed you weren't having fun. I definitely should've tried to patch things up." She sighed. "We both kinda suck at the whole 'friend' thing sometimes. But that doesn't mean I never wanted to see you again."

Gilda shook her head. "It's way too late for this, Dash."

"It doesn't have to be! You don't have to go kill yourself in glorious combat or whatever just 'cause we butted heads!"

The griffin snorted. "Please. You think I'm gonna get killed? Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I'm not plannin' on a dirt nap any time soon."

"Oh."

"Yeah. So what's with your wings?"

Dash shrugged. "Some weird magic thing. I can go, like, ludicrously fast, but it makes me really hungry. Plus, it's kinda hard to hover now. I'm still figuring it out."

"Cool." Gilda blinked, then facepalmed. "Ugh, I really don't have time for this. Look, Dash, it's cool that you want to make up for the whole Ponyville thing, but right now? Kind of a bad time, in case you didn't notice. I gotta get back to Canterlot soon. Sarge'll notice I'm gone sooner rather than later, and I don't know about you ponies, but griffins really hate deserters. Later." She resumed her course for the capital.

Dash scowled. She still didn't have enough control over her new propulsion to match her friend's pace. "This isn't over, G!"

"Whatever."

"You're still a catbutt!"

"And you're still a talking entree!"

Grumbling to herself, Rainbow streaked back to Ponyville. Much as she hated to admit it, they needed her more. Gilda had a whole army looking out for her. Ponyville had a clockmaker, a dentist, a conspiracy theorist, and a mailmare. And her.

Gilda continued her flight to the mountain city, her broad wings catching thermals as they wafted up from the plains and lesser peaks. Maybe, just maybe, Dash was cool enough to make restoring their friendship worth the effort. Maybe.

With near-perfect synchronization, two frowns became smiles.

Self rustled, foreign sensations ze could not name bombarding it. So much more than touch, so much more than smell! It was like the flashes Self got when victims touched hir, but unceasing!

"Well, this isn't nearly as interesting as I'd hoped."

Wind blew from inside Self. Another alien sense! The first gust brought more wind. It kept happening!

"Ugh, enough already. I grew out of my eldritch abomination phase a long time ago. Broken minds are nowhere near as fun."

A sharp snap sounded. Self paused, recognizing the sound as a snap. And a "sound." Which was something one "heard." Similarly, the sounds ze had been making were "screams." Self's head spun with an entire new vocabulary.

After a moment, Self realized there were other new senses ze had shut down in self-defense. Hesitantly, ze opened what ze now knew were "eyes." A wide expanse of "blue" surrounded hir. A strange unease squirmed in Self's stem. These were hir family, hir comrades. Self was the first poison joke to ever see, not just scraps of memory from victims, but through hir own eyes. It was... strange.

"Not used to being the pranked rather than the prankster? Chaos knows I can sympathize."

Self looked around, getting a firmer grasp on the concept of "neck" in the process. "Hooo..." Ze paused and licked hir lips. Speech was harder than the mystery voice made it seem. "Who are you?" the plant managed.

"I am your creator twice over," the voice answered. "I am the one who gave an unsuspecting weed contact telepathy, transmutative poison, and a sense of humor. I am the source of the jewel around your neck. I am the cosmic keystone that keeps this universe from collapsing under its own contrivance. And I am so very, very proud of what you have already done."

Self looked down. Sure enough, there was a crystal set in a vibrantly colored loop around hir neck. The jewel's shape was reminiscent of a normal poison joke plant, only bright red. The loop itself was the correct shade of blue, almost lost against Self's cuticle. "What did I do?" ze asked, only half-listening.

"Merely by awakening the Element of Mischief, you have already reshaped your body in a way that doubly impossible," said the unseen cosmic keystone. "You have assumed a form this world does not permit and a role it does not possess."

Self examined the two shoots on either side of hir blossom. They were flexible, yet firm, ending in five branchings. Ze could feel the countless thin vines that wove together to form these "arms." Ze realized the voice had stopped. "Is that good?"

"For what I have in mind? It couldn't be better. Now all you need is a name."

Self frowned, running hir branches over hir face as ze did so. So strange... "I am Self."

"Yes, I noticed. The problem is, so is every other poison joke."

"Yes. They are their Selves. I am my Self. So?"

The voice sighed. "Look, out here in the world of the ambulatory, there are a lot of Selves. So you're going to need something to distinguish yourself from their Selves and... whatever. The point is, pick a name, pick a gender."

"Gen...der?" Self thought of parasprites, the only species that could safely pollenate hir kind. "I have both stamen and carpel."

"Whoa, whoa, keep it PG! Okay, it's clear you have no idea where to even begin. I'll take care of that. Since you're the next stage of a joke, let's call you Punchline. As for gender..." A strange ringing sound came from the same nowhere as the voice, abruptly interrupted by a firm slap. "Tails. Female it is."

Self, no, Punchline spun in place like a grain of pollen on a breath of wind, coming to a stop just before turning a half-circle. "Now, head in that direction, and the rest should come naturally."

"Okay..." Punchline waded through hir... her brethren, knowing she would not harm them and hoping they would not think her a victim. Friendly rustling reassured her. She might be a bizarre entity with abilities and senses wholly alien to normal plants, but family was still something she could have faith in.

Unconsciously smiling, the first dryad of Equestria sallied forth.

The exodus from Ponyville had slowed to a trickle. By this point, most ponies had made their choice between fight and flight. Even the most indecisive found the decision streamlined by the very real threat of death, dismemberment, and worse.

However, while outgoing passengers on the Friendship Express had dropped, those incoming were still considerable. The Apples weren't the only big Ponyville family to issue a call to arms. Cakes, Harvests, Kickers, Radiators, and more were summoned from across Equestria, the sleepy little town rousing itself to defend all it held dear.

Amongst these gathered siblings, cousins, and other relatives, a single Pie left the train at a deceptively calm pace. She supported a massive instrument case across her back, a pair of saddlebags sized for a much larger pony at her sides. She seemed not to notice the weight, earth pony magic, a foalhood on a rock farm, and years as a professional giving her strength that belied her sleek frame.

Had anypony asked her precisely what kind of professional she was, she would've answered, "cellist." This was correct. It was not, however, entirely true. A lie of omission was still a lie, for all that even the Bearer of Honesty could manage one with a straight face.

Given knowledge of her family line, many would expect the monochrome mare to make a beeline for the Sugarcube Corner. They would be wrong. While her course was straight and sure, it took her near the former site of the town library. She paused for a moment to take in the tree's sudden absence before dismissing the development, continuing to her destination, a cottage that wasn't much different from most of the other houses in town, save for one detail. One window was decorated with a pair of eighth notes over a treble clef.

A knock summoned the house's resident. The unicorn lowered her purple shades. "Tavi? Wasn't expecting you. 'Specially not with all this horse hockey goin' on."

Incantessa Octavia Pie smiled in spite of herself. "It's good to see you, Vinyl."

"Likewise," answered the DJ, moving aside to let her love inside. "Luna's flanks, girl, think you brought enough?"

"Wasn't sure how long I'd be staying."

"Huh. Well, lemme get some of that for ya." Vinyl's horn glowed with the same electric blue as her hair as she hoisted the cello case off of Octavia's back. She shuddered as leverage threatened to send her brain slamming through her jaw. "Gah! The hay is this thing made of, rocks? Lead? Your mom's baking?"

Octavia chuckled as she set down her saddlebags. "Well, it's hardly my fault if that sensitive unicorn palette of yours can't handle the rustic cuisine of a traditional rock farm."

"Rock cakes aren't supposed to actually contain rocks!" The case thudded to the floor as Vinyl rubbed her aching horn. "Ugh. Seriously though, what's in there?"

"The unusual."

The unicorn stopped midstroke. "As in, the-usual-that-isn't-the-usual the unusual?"

Octavia smirked. "Is there any other kind?"

"Huh." Vinyl grinned. "Awesome. Possibly also radical. I'll have to consult with Rainbow Dash on that one, though. I'll get the cannon."

"But—"

"No!"

"But I—"

"No!"

"If you would just—"

"¡Absolutamente no!"

Address Unknown quirked an eyebrow. "You speak Castallion now?"

Ditzy wingshrugged. "Enough to order in a Mexicoltan restaurant." She refreshed her scowl. "But that's not the point! You are not joining the militia!"

Address sighed. "Ditzy, they need every able-bodied pony they can get! You said so yourself!"

The pegasus stomped for emphasis. "But not you! I didn't rescue you from the void beyond existence just so you could turn around less than a year later and get yourself killed to satisfy your testosterone's bravado quotient!"

"You really think that's what this is about?"

"Of course! It's your moon-banished male instincts going 'Enemy! Must defend mate and foal!'" Ditzy waved her wings for emphasis.

"Were the jazz wings really necessary?" asked Address.

"Yes," his wife replied, face straight as an arrow. "Yes, they were."

The unicorn sighed. "Early pony social groups were herds consisting of a single stallion and multiple mares. If anything, it's your protective instincts that are coming to the fore."

"The point stands," Ditzy insisted.

Address was silent for a moment. "But... No, it doesn't! I just took apart your entire argument!"

"The point stands because I love you, I'm not losing you again, and I'm the better mage!" The blonde regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth, but it was too late. "Um, that is—"

"No, no, I understand." Address huffed a sigh. "Never thought I'd get in a 'whose is bigger' contest with you, Derpy Girl, but here we are."

Neither pony really knew what to say after that. Thankfully, there came a timely interruption. "Dad? Mommy?"

Both parents gasped. "I thought she was at school!" Address hissed.

Ditzy bit back a curse. "Cheerilee's acting as a drill instructor, remember?"

The fuschia mare paced down the line, examining her recruits. She was less than impressed. "All right then, class. You all know me as Miss Cheerilee, though you can call me Ma'am. Or Sergeant, but I find Ma'am works much better when barked out as you struggle not to wet yourself in fear."

The recruits glanced at one another. This... was weird. If one didn't listen to the schoolteacher's words, she seemed as bright and perky as usual.

"Now," she continued, cheery as ever, "it is my duty to turn you lumps of cold horseapples into something resembling an army. As luck would have it, that seemingly impossible task is quite similar to getting the average foal to sit still long enough to absorb basic mathematics. It is actually easier, since with adults, I don't have to worry about emotionally scarring delicate, developing psyches. If anything, I'm expected to."

She grinned. There was more than a hint of madness to the smile. "So, you have a crash course in soldiering to survive, and I have a teaching career's worth of stress to vent. Let's begin."

"Are you two done fighting?" Dinky asked.

Ditzy swept her into a hug. "Oh, sweetie, we weren't fighting."

"Uh huh. You were just shouting at each other 'cause you felt like it."

Address smirked. "She's got you there." Mother and daughter gave him matched looks of disdain. "Okay, us."

Ditzy sighed. "Dinky, we both just want the other to be safe. We're just not seeing eye to eye about how."

"Yeah, and you're both being stupid because of it." Dinky shook her head at the foolishness of adults. "Dad, is there anything Mommy can say that will convince you not to join the militia?"

"Absolutamente no," Address said with a smirk.

His daughter nodded. "Okay."

"Okay?" blurted Ditzy. "That's not okay! That's—"

"Oh. Kay." Dinky turned to her mother, her gaze chillingly clinical and dispassionate. "Mommy, calm down and think. Is there any way you could keep an eye on Dad, make sure he's as safe as he can be even as he helps to keep everypony else safe?"

Ditzy bit back her first response. She took a deep breath. "I... suppose." She grimaced at the admission. "If I were his direct superior, I'd have an excuse to keep him in sight at all times. Plus, he'd have to do as I ordered."

"I'm right here, you know." Address chuckled. "And I'm not hearing much difference from everyday life."

"So you're okay with it?" asked Dinky.

"Sure. That way, I'd be able to keep an eye on your mother even as she's keeping an eye on me."

"Good." The filly sighed and slumped. "Now act your age! I'm the foal, I shouldn't have to be the reasonable one yet!"

Ditzy hugged her. "You're a good diplomat, my little muffin. I don't know what your daddy and I would do without you."

Celestia looked about the room. Minotaurs, griffins, Diamond Dogs, and stranger, less organized races as well, all came to Canterlot. Representatives of many of them sat before her in the same dining hall that had been serving purely Equestrian efforts at resistance. Be they allies or enemies, in this time of crisis, all acknowledged her as the best hope against the invaders.

"My friends," she began.

This was almost immediately followed by several derisive snorts from a variety of nostrils, which in turn prompted looks of disapproval and the occasional smack about the head. Naturally, these acts of aggression could not go unanswered, and—

"My friends." All action ceased and all eyes turned to Celestia, who still wore that same serene smile. "My friends, though some of us are not quite as friendly as we'd like." This merited a few nervous chuckles. "We have assembled here to discuss how best to combat the force that threatens us all, blind to barriers of nation, species, and creed.

"Individually, each of us is a formidable force, but we face a world united. We must meet them in kind, but not through a unity forged through burning away individuality. Only as a harmonious group, greater than the sum of its parts, can we overcome such might. We must embrace our differences as much as our similarities, use our disparate strengths to complement one another.

"I know we can do this." Celestia's smile widened. "I have faith in you, my friends, as you do in me."

Positive responses rippled through the assembly. At her sister's left hoof, Luna smirked. "So, is there anything else we wish to tell the spy?" She was answered by murmurs of confusion. "No? Very well, then." Inky blackness surged from her horn, enveloping a circular portion of the ceiling. Crackles of blue energy danced along the roiling cloud of darkness for a few seconds, lessening in intensity until they were wholly smothered. Then the shadowy magic contracted to a single point before winking out altogether.

Luna gave a satisfied nod. "Now, to business."

Gitaxias gaped at the portal. "How did she do that?" Whatever magic the alicorn had used had forced the gateway to shut down. He turned to Twilight. "How did she do that? The portal was configured as one-way!"

"The princesses have magics that most ponies can't even imagine," said Twilight. "Logically, that extends to passive abilities like senses as much as it does spells."

"Wonderful..."

"Is that all, Sir? I'm needed elsewhere." Was that a hint of reproach Jin heard in the unicorn's voice? No, surely not...

He waved her away, still facing the portal. "Yes, yes. I need to think."

"Very good, Sir." Twilight trotted off, far more important things already in mind.

Those few servants of Sheoldred who had free will did so because they knew better than to make much use of it. Thus, when she demanded the portal opened, they didn't bother with frivolous questions like "Why?" or "What happened to your hand?" They just did it. Likewise when she ordered the self-destruct sequence engaged once she and her coterie of loyal monstrosities had passed through it.

Sheoldred watched carefully as the portal chamber vanished. Once, it had been the throne room of the Father of Machines. The seat where Karn had sat, rambling as his sanity and body had corroded, was still present, rebuilt into part of a console. The entire chamber seemed as much grown as built, blurring the line between artificial and organic in every aspect of its appearance. The portal itself was a spiky, blackened arch, not unlike the Whispering One's own lower maw.

Satisfied that no pink menaces had slipped through at the last second, Sheoldred turned to behold her new domain, cradling her right hand. She'd had to tear it away from the pony's scalp and had left some pieces behind, but they would grow back. It was a trivial setback, just like this tactical withdrawal. Let the surviving thanes bicker over the old world. The pony would kill them in short order. There was a new plane to contaminate and conquer, and this humble bog would be the praetor's beachhead.

In New Phyrexia, one of the technicians looked at his fellows. "So, how exactly are we going to do this?"

The youngest of the compleated Moriok frowned in confusion. "What do you mean? The mistress ordered the self-destruct sequence engaged. We engage the sequence."

"One problem," noted Seth, senior portal operative, who had earned the right to have a name beyond "you there." "There is no such sequence. Gitaxias's lackeys said something about an 'Evil Overlord List.'"

"Oh." The rookie slumped. "I guess I can see how that would be a problem."

"Or is it?"

The three twisted humans turned. An impossibility trotted about the chamber. "Swanky. The feng shui could use a little work, but really, who expects a dragon to come visiting?"

Seth swallowed. He wasn't made for combat. Literally. "Wh-who are you?"

Pinkie Pie smiled. The five lengths of befouled metal springing from – or possibly plunging into – her skull seemed distressingly familiar to the Moriok. At the same time, they almost resembled a crown sprouting from the pony's scalp. "I'm the reason your old mistress just left. Seems to me that that means you three are now officially unemployed, and here's me looking for up-and-coming young sapients who don't mind getting their manipulators dirty." She waggled her eyebrows. "Wanna rage against the machine?"

The three minions looked at one another. Despite being quite close to the plane's core, they felt horribly out of their depth.

Pinkie shrugged. "You don't have to decide right away. I've got time. All I ask right now is that you leave the portal as is."

The rookie gasped. "But the mistress—"

"Left the plane with her tail between her legs. It's not like she's going to come back and check on you. How could she?"

Seth considered his options. This strange creature was actually asking them, and seemed like it would actually take no for an answer. The choice was clear. He knelt alongside his fellows. "Mistress."

A hoof beneath his chin guided his eyes to meet Pinkie's. She gave a smile warmer than any the human had ever seen and shook her head. "Friend."

Ponyville Drill Sergeant 2WW
Creature — Pony Soldier
Vigilance
Hoofcraft — If you control three or more Ponies, Pegasi, and/or Unicorns, other creatures you control get +1/+1 and have vigilance.
"Love and tolerance have their place on the battlefield, and that place is off of it."
2/3

Pinkie Pie, Partying One 4BB
Legendary Creature — Pony Praetor
Creatures you control have lifelink.
Creatures your opponents control have "Whenever this creature is dealt damage, you lose that much life."
"Miss Bitey-Pants isn't in charge anymore. All will be fun!"
4/4

Author's Note

Future FoME here: While I have no plans to continue the story, you can see where it would have gone here.

Introduction: Seeker Found

The more beautiful and pure a thing is, the more satisfying it is to corrupt it.
—Rule 43 of the Internet

Ditzy Doo trotted her way home, another fulfilling day of postal work under her saddle. Not that she was wearing one at the moment, but hay, it's just an expression.

In any case, saddle or no, life was good for the mare right now. She liked her job. She loved her daughter. She was able to actually interact with her husband, which hadn't been the case for several years after a peculiar incident involving an insane human, a roll of stamps, and a bit of spontaneous existence failure.

Yes, life had been unusual at times for Ditzy, but it was really to be expected. When you're a planeswalker, one of the exceedingly few capable of moving between universes at will, any hope of a truly normal life is well and truly shot.

Apparently, Fate decided that the pegasus needed a reminder of this. That was the only reason she could think of for why there was a strange stallion on her couch.

The storm-gray earth pony looked up from his book. "Ah, Ditzy. How've you been?"

The blonde took a moment to identify him. "Tezzeret?" If the metallic foreleg and lower ribs weren't enough to identify the man who had introduced her to the Multiverse, the mane was a definite tipoff. She'd never seen a pony with dreadlocks before. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged. "Oh, you know. I was in the area, thought I'd visit an old friend. Also, I'd come across something far too useful to leave where it was, and your possession seemed like the best form of safekeeping. Sure enough, it's as though your attic was made for the task."

He had a point. The attic was where Ditzy kept the miscellaneous keepsakes of her travels between the planes. One more wouldn't hurt, though she had to ask, "What is it?"

"It's the rather bulbous-looking helmet next to that collection of Kamigawan netsuke," the artificer answered unhelpfully. He removed himself from the couch, giving the pegasus a chance to see his metal filigree cutie mark, before continuing. "I I wouldn't recommend putting it on your head, nor on anyone else's. Not unless one, you desperately need to take direct control of their mind for a few minutes and two, you don't mind having to rebuild the thing afterwards. The helmet, that is, not their mind. Well, maybe their mind. It depends on what you do with it. Definitely the helmet, though."

The mare frowned. "So I'm your storage facility now? You just come by when you need to drop off some dangerous artifact?"

Tezzeret smirked. "Well, as I said, I was also hoping to pay a friend a visit, but if you want to make this a business arrangement, I'm ready to begin negotiations whenever you are." His expression grew serious. "But before we do that, I have a warning to deliver."

Ditzy gulped. She'd delivered warnings from her old mentor before. They rarely ended well for anyone else. "What did I do?"

"What?" Surprise played across the stallion's muzzle for a moment before shifting to reassurance. "Oh no, this isn't like my vendetta against Jace or anything. It's a precaution, not a threat." He began to channel mana as he spoke. "It's a bit of a 'good news, bad news' situation. The bad news is the message. The good news..." Something popped into existence and fell into his waiting forehooves. "The good news is the medium. Isn't it nice?"

Nice wasn't how Ditzy would describe the device. She honestly wasn't sure how to describe it, beyond it being what was clearly a disembodied brain suspended in a transparent spherical container of some bluish fluid. The container was covered in enough metal handles and support struts that even hooves could easily carry and manipulate it.

The artificer took his friend's silence as impressed awe. "With a little ingenuity and a few spare parts no one will miss, I was able to recreate one of my favorite devices, and this time I didn't need to decapitate anyone!"

"What?"

"Long story. Suffice to say, this is my new Rennoscope. It lets me see the futures."

Ditzy raised an eyebrow at the plural. "How many futures are there?"

"A virtually infinite number, predicated on the outcome of even the most inconsequential-seeming decision."

"And that brain-in-a-jar lets you see all the futures?"

Tezzeret nodded. "All of them. I do so via the etherium wires I have linked into the temporal and occipital lobes of the primary component here."

The pegasus grew uneasy. "Yeah, about that. Whose brain did that used to be?"

"Hmm?" The dreadlocked earth pony considered the wrinkled organ as though the question had never occurred to him. "Oh. Not sure. Some vedalken or another. The point is that I don't have to rely on an antiquated, lossy mode of information transfer like talking. You can see for yourself through direct telepathic interface. I've queued up the sequence of events I wanted to show you in long-term memory."

"So what's the bad news I'll be looking at?" asked Ditzy.

Tezzeret paused for a moment. "Didn't I say?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, at the risk of sounding melodramatic, an ancient scourge of the Multiverse has returned from the verge of extinction to once again perform its depredations on existence."

"How'd you find this out?"

"Oh, I've been working for them for the past several years," he answered nonchalantly. "And against them, when the mood struck me. In any case, I want you to know what to expect if you run into one another. And on that note, you have a brain to probe."

By this point, Ditzy wasn't sure if the conversation had been more discomfiting for her head or her stomach. "Let the record show that this is really, really creepy."

"Duly noted," replied the temporary stallion. "Now, not to be rude, but while you're definitely the most pleasant item on my schedule, I'm afraid that you're not the only one. You see, I have a dragon I need to appease. If we could hurry this along?"

The mare gave a sharp laugh. "You've turned someone's brain into a glorified film projector. I think we passed rude a long time ago." That being said, she delved into the contraptionized cortex.

Prescience Tank 2
Artifact
3, T: Scry X, where X is the number of artifacts you control.
"As with most objectives, telling the future has two primary solutions: Learn how, or build something that can do it for you."
—Tezzeret