The Conversion Bureau: The Price of Generosity

Chapters

One's Dreams and Correspondence
The Familiar Explanation
The New Mare's News
Why do the Best Die?
A Girl's Magic Trinkets
The Heavenly Descent
The Islands of Metal
Hey You with the Pretty Face—Welcome to the Human Race
Prologue - Not with a Bang but a Whimper

One's Dreams and Correspondence

I was tired—more so than usual. The office clock reported fourteen past three; figures, I’ve lost track of time again. Were I a more responsible adult I would have left my work for the latter part of the day and have gotten some sleep by now.

But I couldn’t bring myself to even walk away from my desk, I bet that sleep wouldn’t come to me even if I was in bed right now. No, the anxiety was eating at me far too much to even allow me to relax. A quick look at my desk calendar acknowledged that today was going be the day of the interview: The first interview that would delve deep into nature of humanity, how they lived, what made them human and, hopefully, why they drove themselves to extinction. And it would’ve been the first in a series of interviews! Who in their right mind wouldn’t feel restless?

It had been more than sixty years since the last human walked on this world. Well, the last human who hadn’t gone through the conversion at least. Hundreds of thousands of Equestriani were humans once. They were uplifted to a simpler, better and happier plane of life. No remnant of their cities, technology, or of their existence remained except for those individuals who converted and their descendants. Whatever sensation of shame and regret over the loss of a people, no matter how large, had dwindled in face of their actions. It was them who had created their difficulties and crises; they were on a path of self-destruction, and we saved them.

Yet for reasons that escape me there were many who resisted, fighting until the last conversion and death.

I’ve asked some of the newfoals —some of whom actively defied the Conversion Bureaus as humans— before I took up history, though their answers have never satisfied me. They all found their new life far better than their old one; even they had no concrete answer besides ‘I didn’t know better’.

Even my grandfather on my mother side, Summer Sun, was a newfoal. I remember that I often asked him how it was like when he was a human when I was but a young colt. He recalled of dark times; their great civilizations had begun to fall apart from economic collapse and hostilities, both inwards and out, leading humanity into a dark age, a far cry from earlier times.

Unfortunately I had never been able to get much out of Summer since my mother was always on my tail, telling me ‘not to trouble my grandfather with bitter memories’. Of course, like any well-behaved colt, I did as she said. It was just very unfortunate that Summer Sun passed away not too long ago, just when I’ve started my historical work; I would bet that he would have no problem retelling me the story of his ancestors.

To me as it was, the humans who fought back must’ve been mad; they were a bellicose people, and have had wars throughout their history. They embraced vices such as greed and hatred, they destroyed, they enslaved their own, and they killed their own. They had grown unable to live in harmony with each other. Humans were much like the old pony tribes of ancient times. Had history been kinder to humanity like it had been to us all those years ago would they have been more like we are now?

It’s a question that I couldn’t hope to answer. It was all in the past and there was no sense in dwelling on it, since it is unchangeable. I only wish that I could understand their reasons for refuting our helping hoof.

I studied human ways, and almost all of what I have learned made me queasy: World wars, terrorism, torture, slavery, genocides, bigotry, hatred...

“Why?” I asked nopony in particular. Only the walls of my study heard my query and replied in silence.

“Why did you do this to yourselves? How could you?”

Tears welled up in my eyes as I strained to make sense of the witness accounts and unofficial reports of the subject before me. As I’ve mentioned nothing but the ponified humans remained of their culture and history. All I had were tabloids of dubious origins and intents as well as unsanctioned recollections of ponies who had seen their world when it still existed.

It was all bad.

But you couldn’t be all malevolent! a voice in me argued. There must’ve been some form of redeeming quality for humans to have been saved by us. Otherwise what sense is there to live in a life where you are always persecuted?

What of those who willingly converted? They couldn’t have been malicious at heart if they saw reason. What worried me was how few seemed to see said reason. Were they really so intolerant? So unkind? So ungentle? So ignorant? So blind?

Even griffons and the canid populations, as hostile as they are, would have accepted our help without hesitation if they were in the same predicament: Change and be able to live in a world free of their perils and risks, or die. Why would such a choice be so difficult for a human to take?

Confound these humans! Questioning their ways will drive me insane…

And yet… that’s why I find them so fascinating, so intriguing. Finding the answers I seek wouldn’t be simple and they might not even exist as far as I was aware. The dome was to be blamed for making my search so much more difficult. Good thing I always enjoyed a good challenge.

However, I wonder what would befall if I did find the answers: Would they be the definitive explanation for humanity’s mannerism? Would I even want to know the truth?

I shuddered for a moment as I considered the possibility that what I already knew was the least of the horrors of humanity; if I learned of anything worse any chance of writing a comprehensive work on man would be dashed, no way would any publishing house worth their salt accept a work like that.

Eyes feeling heavy I again thought over sleeping; I really wasn’t used to being up this late, I suppose that it had to do with ponies being diurnal creatures. Sleep is so stupid, I moaned, we’d get so much done if we were awake all the time.

As if to prove me otherwise my right frontal leg, on which my precious head rested, slipped. My jaw slammed on the desk—hard.

“Gah!” I yelped. “Horsefeathers!” That stung.

Okay body, my mind ceded as I gingerly rubbed my tender jaw, message received loud and clear: I’m going.

A short moment to mull over whether or not I should’ve cleared up my workplace a bit, I decided to postpone it till after I woke up. I dragged myself to bed, grateful that my office —if one were generous enough to call it that— doubled as my own bedroom. Thank Celestia that my parents decided to buy me a small apartment; the mere thought of having to walk through a hallway or two to reach my bed terrified me at that moment.

Whilst my bed was nothing more than a mattress with sheets and pillows it constantly served its purpose well: I was always one of simple tastes; I never needed the fanciest toys or the most exquisite gourmets that the Capes cuisine was famous for. Tonight though that lump of cloth and feathers looked fit for royalty.

I slinked into the bundle of sheets and made myself as comfortable as possible. Even though I was not a pegasus, thus meaning that I had no experience with cumulus furniture, this felt as close as to a cumulus bed as I could imagine it. I was in heaven.

There was some worry that I’d have difficulty falling asleep with the interview later in the day still fresh in my mind. But it was of a pleasant surprise when I was embraced by Luna’s dark veil.

I wished myself a good night; I’m going to need it.

“So you see,” the unicorn interviewee said, her matching dress reflecting the summer colors, “humans were very… misled: they had been since the dawn of their species.”

“How so?” I asked, pen and paper at the ready.

The unicorn, now wearing a top hat and monocle, stopped for a moment to think of the words. “They were like stray sheep,” she finally said, suddenly speaking with a deeper masculine voice. “Without a shepherd to guide them they wandered aimlessly and had to fend to themselves. Considering that they’ve managed to prosper for thousands of years is admirable, but despite what they’ve told us, they have always been surviving, never living to their fullest. You have their aggressive nature to blame for that.”

“Interesting…” I mumbled as I engraved my notes on my stone slab with a hammer and chisel. “Would you say that there was perhaps a chance to change their destructive ways?”

The pegasus looked bemused. He wiggled his moustache and let out a small chuckle. “Me dear lad” he chimed, now sporting a strong accent, “if we evarr had tha chance tah change thar bloomin’ ways, we woodn’ haff develop’d tha see-rum; we jus’ didn’t haff enough toime tah teach ‘em how tah be propah beings loike we did wiff dragons an’ griffins, tha magical barrier expanded too quickly.”

“So it was the only way to save them?”

“Sì!” the earth pony exclaimed in a new accent and straw boater hat, gesticulating wildly with his forehooves. “Those poor humans could not shutt-a up about their ‘pride’ and ‘freedom of-a choice’ though; not many of them agreed to-a change.”

I stopped scribbling with the crayon on the sand paper, puzzled. “Wait, ‘freedom of choice’?”

“Ja,” the interviewee replied, taking a quick swipe of her cider mug. “Zhey were real dummköpfe, anozher idiocy zhat zheir aimless straying had brought on zhem. Very individualistic.”

“But surely since the Princesses and the Bearers encouraged the conversion the humans must’ve understood that they were wrong to believe otherwise?”

The pegasus tipped his ten gallon hat. “Y’all would think that right? Ah s’pose the fact that they had no Celestia or Luna to guide ‘em would’ve rendered ‘em mighty suspicious of any bein’ higher an’ mightier than ‘em.”

I blinked. “That’s… very sad.”

She shrugged. “Don’t beat yerself up over it, mate,” the unicorn said encouragingly, rolling up the sleeves of her outdoors vest, “the humans, in spite of our offah were destined tah die. Nothin’ ya could’ve done about it.”

Probably not, I realized, but I do not believe that anything that lives can be destined to die. Something’s missing here. I don’t know what it is, but I can tell that it is crucial to understanding humans.

The pony looked skywards, uttering a gasp at the sight of the sun. “Blimey, how long have we been talking for? The sun’s already reached its peak!”

Shifting my attention to the sun I found myself as taken aback as the earth pony, not so much because it was at its zenith but rather because it was more resplendent than usual.

In fact it seemed to be growing brighter.

In any situation looking directly at the giant ball of fire was not recommended, but even as I turned to face away from the light it did not diminish. It was beginning to hurt. A lot.

I shut my eyes in reflex but my lids proved useless against the piercing glow of the sun as the brightness proved to be just as much of a blemish to my eyes as knives are to skin.

“What is happening?!” I screamed, burying my head with my hooves—anything to hide myself from the light.

A new voice, different from all of the previous ones spoke. It was very articulate, warm and oddly familiar.

“Perhaps,” it calmly spoke, “it is time to face the truth.”

After that I passed out.

Light intruded into my field of view, through my lidded eyes. Just a dream, I came to realize even as the memories of said dream faded away. I’ve just been sleeping.

I shifted in my bed to make myself a bit more comfortable when suddenly it struck me: why was there so much light?

Delicately opening an eye to take a peek I noticed that the light was uncharacteristic to usual morning light. In fact, it seemed as if the sun had already ri—

My eyes shot open in spite of the inevitable pain, now with the sudden and urgent need to take in my surroundings: Same bed, same desk, same clutter of papers and pens, same window vie—

No, not the same window view. The exterior scene that it depicted were the rising cliffs dotted with scattered buildings…

…And a strong blue sky.

“Oh no,” I breathed, looking upwards to my skylight; I had to avert my gaze due to the sky-high sun.

“Oh no!”

A quick glance at the wall clock proved my worst fears: it was two past noon. I missed the interview!

The next few seconds were a flurry of panicked movement, mostly consisting of my efforts to get out of bed and rushing to make myself presentable. It was only after the fourth failed attempt to put on my necktie did I slow down to collect myself, regulating my breathing. Deep breaths, Crystal—deep breaths.

“Okay…” I mumbled as I gauged the situation. Calm down. Missing the interview isn’t the end of the world, I’m sure Autumn Mist would be more than willing to reschedule our appointment. It’d be terribly unprofessional of me but I had little doubt that a compromise could be agreed upon.

Besides, I had other ponies up for interview for this entire week. Even if I wouldn’t have an interview with Mist I still had other meetings to fall back on.

With the few remaining clouds of concern ebbing away, I went with my habitual morning rites; albeit belated, a shower and a light snack fancied me as I was a creature of routine. Undoing the mess of a tie on my neck and tossing it unceremoniously on my bed I made for the bathroom right next to my office/bedroom. Much like my room it had only the bare minimum necessities, and they were not top quality either: a sink with a mirror, a tub, toilet and a small cabinet for medicine and other supplies underneath the basin—all that a residential bathroom needed in my mind.

I turned the tap on and splashed my muzzle with some frigid water, shocking me into full consciousness and washing away the surviving cobwebs of sleep. Droplets of water soaked my dark teal coat, dripping away from the strands of hair, as I took in the reflection in the mirror.

The unicorn before me was a mess: His ivory mane streaked with vanilla strips was completely frazzled from an uneasy sleep and his eyes had noticeable shadows edging from below. He let out a deep sigh whilst I closed the tap. Get a grip on yourself, Crystal, a mare’s voice scolded, sounding eerily similar to my mother’s. What kind of a researcher are you if you can’t even follow your own schedules?

Temporarily dismissing the thought to the back of mind I went for the tub. My thoughts were too befuddled; I needed to clear my head of conflicting ideas and set the table to plan the rest of the day and a shower would freshen my mind anew.

A torrent of warm water washed down along my body. I sighed once more, this time with a small sense of pleasure. That’s the ticket.

My shower was done within minutes and I proceeded to dry myself and quickly tidy up my mane. Once done I admired my hoof work: The teal unicorn looked considerably better and seemingly rejuvenated. Slap a tie on me and I’d be fully presentable for any occasion.

Right—first order of business: food.

Heading for the kitchen I began to consider my next course of action after the snack: A letter of apology offering another date for the appointment would be the most appropriate response for my improper conduct. The overall message came to me while I prepped some tomato slices and lettuce leaves for a simple sandwich. Usually I would have a bowl of oat mixed with some milk for breakfast, however, seeing as late as it was, I opted for something a bit more solid.

The letter wouldn’t need to be overly formal as my first; when Mist replied back her letter adopted a very casual approach, so I assumed that she would be fine if I were to drop the formalities.

With the sandwich plated I returned to my office and set to writing the letter while occasionally biting sizable chunks of bread and vegetables.

Dear Miss Mist…

I took a second to consider the opening greeting. Maybe it was too formal? Scratching the line I started again:

Dear Autumn Mist...

It sounded better now, warmer and friendlier. I nodded and proceeded.

Due to unforeseen circumstances…

I paused. That isn’t necessarily true, I told myself. Feeling apprehensive I scratched the words and thought for a second before writing a new line. Just get to the point.

As you know, I was unable to come since I unfortunately lost track of time.

It was to the point and relatively relaxed in wording, but it sounded awkward in my mind. My experience from writing class seemed to be working against me, the formality instilled in me as a student clashed with the more casual writing style that I was going for. Regardless of the odd tone, I left it in.

I am very sorry for not telling you that I wouldn’t be able to meet you at the Stallion’s Star for the interview. I was hoping to reschedule the interview for a later date…

Hmm… the last bit still felt too formal. I took another bite of my sandwich as I rewrote that bit.

I was wondering if we could do the interview at another time. I am free this weekend during the afternoons, so if you’re fine with that, just say the time and place and I’ll schedule us another appointment.

Once again, thank you for your attention,

Apologies,
Crystal Clear

Finishing my meal I reread the rough draft. I felt that perhaps it was slightly apologetic and formal, but it was far more relaxed than what I usually wrote. Judging it passable I got myself a clean scroll and wrote the final letter, carefully forming the letters and avoiding any grammatical errors that plagued the draft.

With the finishing signature done I looked over the perfected letter; it was anything but perfect and were my Equestriani teacher to read this she’d find faults all over it, but it would suffice for somepony like Mist.

Hunger temporarily satisfied and with no essential chores in need to be done at the moment I decided to mail this so it’d be out of the way. Enveloped and ready to be sent, I made for the front door. Just before opening it I noticed some papers placed underneath the door—mail.

Well I can take a moment to take a look, I told myself as I levitated the small stack of letters to eye level. I sorted through the bills and publicity until I found a letter that stood out: it was a personal letter…

From Autumn Mist? Uh oh.

My first thoughts suggested that it was an angry letter demanding why I hadn’t shown up at our meeting. But then I realized that it couldn’t have been the case: We were supposed to meet at half-past ten, and the mail mare must’ve passed before noon because I didn’t hear her while I was awake. Even with an hour or so to write and send a letter the mail service always took at least a few hours to deliver.

So it may have arrived early this morning, I reasoned. Maybe she wanted to tell me something before the rendezvous?

A quick look at the delivery date proved that it was actually from yesterday evening. Maybe Mist was unable to meet up with me after all! a voice in me hoped.

Under different circumstances the possibility would’ve irked me since it would have meant rescheduling. In this case I was beginning to feel relieved.

Curiosity rising in me I opened up the envelope and took a look at Mist’s message.

Dear Clear,

Regrettably I have to cancel our appointment for tomorrow morning. I have been reassigned to Stalliongrad by the Royal Court, thus I cannot come to do your interview and I doubt that I shall be able to any time soon.

My sincerest apologies, I hope you may find somepony else for your interview.

Sincerely,

Autumn Mist

The words rolled in my head for a moment while I considered them. She was being reassigned?

In our correspondence Mist had mentioned that she did hold a place in the court, something about being an advisor to the local mayor or something along those lines. In a sense I was glad that this happened, yet I was aware that this was an hindrance to my plans. Stalliongrad was a continent away from the Capes and I didn’t have the money to afford myself a trip of several thousands of leagues just to get some information for a book. The investment just wasn’t worth it.

I cursed: A tad ironic, considering that I was hoping for what had just happened no more than a minute ago. I let out a disappointed sigh. I’ve still got several other ponies up for interview for this upcoming week, I convinced myself. A meet up with Mist is problematic but it isn’t a deal breaker.

Still, bearing in mind that she was a political official, so her input would have indubitably been a great insight to the times before the conversion. If only…

Blinking myself out of my meditative tangent I put away my letter to Autumn and quickly went over the remaining mail in the wad levitating in mid air before me:

Bill…

Advertisement…

Bill…

…hm. What’s this?

It was another personalized letter addressed directly to me, much like Autumn Mist’s letter, but it had an air of formality about it that the other lacked. It was of some surprise when I saw the name Iron Heart, my father, on the envelope. He lived North of the Capes in Hoofshire along with my mother at our old family home. I would still be living with them had I not been accepted at the Perlino Royal Polytechnic Institute in the Capes. Despite the distance between us, my parents and I have kept in touch via correspondence frequently enough, mostly with mother’s letters asking how I was doing, still unsure whether or not I was fully independent yet. Her motherly love and care was reminiscent of that which she provided me with when I was but a young colt.

I smiled at that thought: Even though I always nagged her to stop treating me so, nowadays it acted mostly as a reminder of simpler times. The days where I hadn’t a care in the world, where bills were unheard of and food and a comfortable bed were a sure thing.

Focusing once more on the letter I saw that it was about four days old; the last letter between me and my parents had been the exciting news that I had managed to get several interviewees to write my book about a week back. Most likely this was my father’s reply to that letter, iterating how proud he and my mother were of me, probably adding a word of encouragement or two as was his style.

I opened the letter with a grin and began to read it. As my eyes zipped along the lines the confident smirk shrank, giving way to a mask of confusion. By the time I was finished reading it a grimace took the place of the earlier smile.

The words, no matter how often I reread them, wouldn’t change. The message still bore the same grim news, leaving me at a loss. “What…?”

I shook my head to clear any uncertainty and read the letter once more, out loud this time:

Dear Crystal,

Your mother and I are very glad that you’ve achieved your first step to writing that book of yours. Your journey to become an established writer lies before you. Don't let this opportunity slip, and you will have the life that you’ve always dreamed of. Seize the day.

However I must tell you that we’ve received some very sad news from the Azures island just as we got your letter.

There’s no proper way to say this, so I’ll just go straight to the point:

Your grandmother Lyra has passed away.

Her friends have contacted us telling that a funeral will be held at her home at Grazeiosa within a few weeks, and asked us to attend it.

In the envelope there is a ticket for the ferry to Port Delgate; meet us at the Lush Hotel and we’ll see how things are.

Your mother and I will be looking forwards to see you again.

Sincerely,

Iron Heart

The apartment had fallen to a quiet stillness. Whatever sounds there were had thawed to silence as my mind tried to make sense of this; a multitude of questions flooded into my head, all of which branched from one uncertainty:

Who was Lyra?

The Familiar Explanation

A cool breeze blew sent my mane fluttering in the air, my coat awash with light from the sun’s warm rays and my nose greeted the pungent smell of the ocean. The strong cerulean sky; the deep blue ocean and the rising island of green painted the horizon ahead. It was quite the panoramic view, worthy of a postcard.

It was just a shame that I was too busy hanging my head over the stanchion on the starboard of the ferry, finishing up releasing the last remnants of my earlier meal along with a few other ponies.

Some ponies just were not meant for life at sea, and I was among those on this trip. Even though our trip went as smooth as it could have, from the warm waters of the Mareterranean to the more frigid ocean blue of the Azures, just the slow rocking motion was more than enough to bring out the worst case of seasickness.

I was already familiar with the nauseating condition from my first trip out of Hoofshire to the Capes. It was a longer and rougher sail than this one to Port Delgate. Experience however, didn’t make the queasiness any less unpleasant.

The bitter taste of bile lingering in my mouth, I heaved my weary head to take in the sight growing closer: Troteira island. The rising Delgate bay sported the beautiful skyline of the Azures port, full of white and blue buildings, very much like a reduced view of the Pinto Cape that I had in my apartment. Our ferryboat negotiated the port waters with the multitude of smaller crafts that populated the harbor. A number of the crew scurried to and fro on the deck and into the superstructure in preparations to dock.

In anticipation of landing, I quickly went to my quarters and grabbed my saddle bags. Much like my apartment I had with me only the bare necessities: Some ties, toiletry, a purse of bits, and, most importantly, a notebook, pencil (with spares) and some of my collected work. While packing had been rushed due to the very tight ferry schedule —of which I blame the slow mail— I had what was needed. I could say with a fair degree of certainty that anything that I lacked would be provided during my stay.

Speaking of packing, the short deadline for the ferryboat’s departure forced me into a corner in the matter of dealing with the other three interviewees I had planned to meet the following week: If this funeral took longer than four days I wouldn’t be back on time. I supposed that I could write to them to give a heads up from the Azures —even though I had no idea how good the mail service was here— after I learned more about the program here. Reworking my schedule for the week had already been enough of a pain; I didn’t want to create any further headaches with my interviewees.

The final docking preparations done, the anchor dropped and the mooring lines were thrown, placed on bollards by the harbor workers. Once secured, the walkway was lowered, offering a means of escape from the floating prison. I and other ponies (whom I recognized some as my vomit companions) raced to be among the first to descend to the firm docks. After braving and persevering the rickety plank, my hooves finally encountered concrete. It wasn’t quite the same as trotting on grass or dirt, but it was hundreds of times better than the wooden deck that I had to endure for two days.

A shudder ran through the length of me when I considered the return trip that I would have to take. Come on Crystal, that’s a problem that future you will deal with. Right now you need to find mom and dad.

Quite literally lost on the first step into Port Delgate, I approached one of the dock worker who was tending to a shipment of some sort.

“Excuse me miss, but could you please tell me where the Lush Hotel is?”

The tan pegasus, with strong blue eyes under her Apple Cap, did a precursory examination before replying. “A tourist, hein?” she spoke with a noticeable twang. “It’s right at the main praça, just beyond the pórtico over there. Follow the main avenida and you’ll find it. It’s the building with the fancy roof and granite varandas.”

I voiced my thanks and followed the local’s directions; through the pillared tunnel underneath an edifice, the way led to a long cobblestone avenue lined with beautiful fig trees. In the distance I could see a plaza bustling with movement.

As I made my way to the town square I took note of the dialect that the pegasus used. It was mostly Equestriani but it had some curious words that weren’t common in other places. I had heard similar words in the Cape’s local dialect, though it wasn’t as prevalent as it seemingly was here, if the snippets of conversations that I happened to hear were anything to go on. As far as I was aware, the dialect was the result of early Equestriani settlers having to adapt to the local human tongue. With the passing of a generation some of the human words survived through the colloquialism of the local populace, having been used so commonly before that they had become part of the regular vocabulary of these parts.

It was interesting to see that the dialect survived better here than in the mainland. Perhaps the relative isolation and small size of the communities here in the Azure islands were significant factors in maintaining their status as a local idiom. It was something that I fancied learning a bit more of once I got myself settled in with my parents.

Once reaching the main plaza I took in my surroundings: Several buildings lined the square, some nothing more than residential complexes, while a few had several dead giveaways of belonging to the local administration—the presence of the Crown’s influence within the town hall was made clear with the ornate onion tower spiraling from its golden roof.

Right in the middle of the town square was a bronze statue of a mare and stallion, a unicorn and earth pony respectively, flanking Princess Celestia. Having seen many statues of Celestia already it gathered no real interest from me: Same warm smile, same caring eyes, same majestic presence. The two ponies beside her though piqued my curiosity enough that they each earned a closer look.

The stallion on the left of Celestia was a small fellow, assuming that the statue’s proportions were accurate. He bore a composed face behind those thick-rimmed glasses of his and the carefully brushed forelock and crest. While he looked somewhat frail his gaze seemed to prove otherwise. It gave the sense that he was a strong minded individual, if, perhaps, limited by his feeble body.

The unicorn on the right appeared far more energetic, her eyes wide opened and brimming with curiosity. It was clear that at the time she was in very good health and possibly a bold pony, willing to go outside of her comfort zone to seek out answers and learn any mystery that she’d happen to encounter. Her massive grin and her wild mane compounded this aura of enthusiasm.

Princess Celestia and her intrepid ponies exploring the new world, a plaque described. In memory of the Arrival, in the year 1005 EH.

I knew then what this statue commemorated; the Arrival was the event in which the land mass of old Equestria inexplicably found itself in a new world, specifically this one. Everypony celebrated the date as the mark of a new age for exploration and expansion.

It was odd however how few seemed to remember that the Arrival also meant the beginning of the end for humanity. Purportedly such a topic was deemed too morbid to be included in the celebration, so more often than not, it was simply not mentioned.

To be fair even I would keep such a matter to myself were I in a festival supposedly observing one of the greatest moments in our history.

My eyes fell on gorgeous looking balconies, lush with wonderful overhanging plants, giving the name of the hotel that boasted the said verandas. The Lush Hotel was a grand structure, dwarfing even the large town hall. An ornate mansard roof topped the luxurious establishment, reminiscent of the more classic architecture typical of the Canterlot aristocracy of a few centuries back. Its style, along with that of the town hall, was quite the striking contrast to the more common buildings in Delgate.

I entered the hotel’s main entrance and found myself stunned at the majesty displayed by the resort: Tasteful rugs and carpets, marble floors and columns, sharply dressed staff ready to serve, overhanging flowers... Had I been unaware of my location, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I stumbled into a Canterlot palace. The amount of affluence was out of place in the small port town and made me wonder just how my parents were paying for our stay here. However much it cost, it was definitely out of my price range.

“Good morning sir,” a receptionist chirped, putting on her best smile. “How may I assist you today?”

I took a moment before answering: My mind was still reeling from the high amount of wealth radiated from the reception hall alone and I hadn’t fully noticed the presence of the mare by the counter. “I ah, I’m a relative of some guests staying here—Iron Heart and Morning Dew.”

“Just one moment sir,” she politely replied as she opened a ledger. “Yes we do have the names in our registry: Room forty-seven. Shall I send a message to them?”

“Yes. Tell them that their son has arrived.”

I sipped my cup of green tea while I waited at the Lush’s dining area, enjoying both the drink and the view of the bay. For the first time since I set my eyes on Troteira did I finally see how wonderful it was: The Delgate bay contorted in such a way that the silhouette of a large hill flourishing with greenery and that of the harbor flanked the ocean, creating a marvelous horizon.

There was something about these sort of panoramas that always captivated me. The view back at Cape Perlino of its sister city Pinto was something that I could sometimes lose myself in. This view of Delgate and Troteira was something beyond what I was used to; I was completely enthralled with the landscape and skyline of the port town that I honestly lost track of where I was—something that I was always aware of even while enjoying the Cape panorama.

A buzz of conversing voices was in the air, so quiet that I barely noticed it and allowed my mind to revel in the view before me. Minutes passed by. They might as well have been hours.

I was violently tugged away from this state when a sharp voice called out to me. It was immediately recognizable in spite of not having heard it for a whole two years.

Morning Dew: Mother.

From the main hall came a couple: a unicorn with an ultramarine coat, a sinopia mane and beard, as well as a mantis green earth pony with a sierra and gold mane. My parents.

“Crystal, is that really you?” my mother cried as she approached, an ecstatic look on her face. “My, my! Our little colt’s all grown up now!”

I smiled at that remark. Were I a few years younger I would have resented it. Now I just wanted to embrace her. “It’s good to see you too mom.”

Iron came up after Dew, beaming in a more restrained manner, though no less pleased of my presence. “How have you been, son?”

“I’ve been doing well enough, dad,” I replied while we nuzzled each other, “but what about the two of you? I haven’t heard much about Hoofshire since that letter I got back in April.”

“Oh, nothing’s changed much,” Dew waved a hoof. “This whole week has done nothing but rain. A lot of us at the town council have complained, but the weather team insisted that they keep the month’s quota of rain, so we’re quite glad to come to some sunshine. I forgot how nice and warm it is down here! Not as hot as in the Capes, but it comes close.”

I shrugged. “The climate is pretty similar here.”

“So,” mom began, “how was your trip?”

“Eh…” I hesitated. “Could’ve been worse, all things considered.”

My mom looked nonplussed at that while my dad chuckled. “I think you’ve gotten your sea legs from your old grandmother Crop, and she didn’t have any to begin with.”

We all laughed at that, including Dew once she understood.

“It’s great to be with you again,” mom muttered, leaning affectionately by me.

“The feeling’s mutual.”

I felt like I was at home once more, even though it was not so. I wanted to simply reminisce the good old days with family and catch up the last two years of our lives with each other. Unfortunately my irritatingly persistent conscience demanded for me to address the matter on hoof. With a saddened heart I changed the subject.

“So, about this funeral…”

The mood grew sullen at the table. None of us wished to trudge into this topic but it had to be brought up sooner or later.

“Yes,” Iron replied, now adopting a grim scowl, “we’ve already talked with the agent from the funeral home: It’s going to be a quiet thing at her old home at Grazeiosa, tomorrow in the afternoon.”

I nodded. That answered one of my questions. Now for the awkward one.

Shifting myself to get in a more comfortable position I began slowly. “Now… not to sound like a moron, but…”

Iron and Dew looked on, curious as to what I wanted to say.

“…but who is she? I know you’ve said that she’s my grandmother, but I never knew her.”

My dad was puzzled: “You don’t remember Lyra?” he inquired.

“Nope. I’ve never heard of that name before reading your letter.”

“He was barely a year old when she last visited us sweetie,” Dew offered to my father, “I would’ve been surprised if he did remember her.”

“So who was she? Why didn’t I know anything about her before?”

My parents fidgeted uncomfortably, exchanging worrisome looks. “It’s… a tad complicated, Crystal,” mom began apprehensively. “She was an Equestriani representative during the Arrival.”

Thoughts sped in my head as things began to fall into place. My grandmother was a representative to the human race? “You mean to tell me that the statue of the mare by the princess in the square outside is her?” I asked after a moment while I gathered my thoughts.

Iron nodded. “That’s right. As you know the Azures, Açores as they were called back then, were the meeting place for our first contact outside of the dome, and Lyra was among the few ponies who were picked for the envoy.”

My mind reeled. She worked with the Royal Sisters sixty years back? But if that was the case, why didn’t her name come up in any story or article related to the event? In fact, neither did any of the other representatives—it seemed the sort of topic that couldn’t be forgotten.

I slumped on my haunches, quite unsure what to make of this new information. “My mother took up her role very keenly, being the only self-taught expert on humans back then,” the blue unicorn provided. “She then went on to be the Equestriani diplomat for a few human nations, and in that time she…”

Iron paused, biting his lip in resentment, uncertain how to proceed. I prodded for him to continue. “She did what?”

“Lyra began to sympathize with them,” Dew stated plainly, an earnest look on her face. “She became a stout critic of conversion, arguing for the human’s right to free will and choice and claiming that the Princesses were wrong about them.”

My ears flicked to attention and my eyes widened at the remark about the Princesses: Claiming that the Royal Sisters were wrong about something? It sounded almost like a blasphemous thing to say in my mind. I spoke out in impulse: “How could she say that? Everypony knows that the humans couldn’t live with us as they were, they were just too corrupt!”

“That’s what everyone has told her,” mom replied. “Lyra refused to change her stance though, and as such her husband Evening Star and rest of the family disowned her.”

My father’s saddened gaze fell to the floor. “It was difficult growing up after they divorced,” he said softly. “I just can’t believe that humans came before family…”

“Don’t fret over that dear, Lyra was a very eccentric unicorn. It’s her own fault that she cut herself off from the family.”

“She still was my mother,” Iron snapped, “she didn’t deserve to live alone during her end days.”

Morning pouted. “Even so the Crown forced Lyra to resign, stripped her of her titles and honors and had her exiled from Equestria proper.”

I ran a hoof along my forelock. “Sweet Celestia…”

“Harsh perhaps,” the earth pony admitted, “but appropriate considering.”

Iron turned his head, facing away from Dew, a saddened but pensive expression on his face. It was clear that he had qualms with the sentence given to her mother, his thoughts betrayed by his dark smile.

For a moment I took a step back to interpret what was going on here: Morning Dew was being quite dominant when discussing about Lyra, while Iron had mostly been aloof throughout the conversation when really it should’ve been the other way around. It was a subtle thing, yet over the years having lived with my parents I had come to notice such faint signs where others would not see anything out of the ordinary.

The only question was why this change in their relation had occurred. Evidently it had to do with the news of Lyra’s death, but what exactly it was I was not sure. Was it some painful memories that have resurfaced or was it something else? At times like this I wish I could use Legilimency.

Such criminal thoughts were dispelled by my mother’s voice. “Have you already gotten your room Crystal?”

My ears drooped in embarrassment as the topic was swiftly switched. “Yes I did: Room sixty-three, but there is the small issue of, er—well, payment.”

“Ah, don’t worry about how many bits this’ll cost us,” Dew chirped, “Iron’s built up quite a lot in savings, and we can afford our stay at this palace of a hotel for weeks if we have to. Besides the ceremony we will need to attend to the inheritance hearing afterwards in Grazeiosa.”

“That’s good to hear.” I smiled sheepishly.

My father rubbed his hooves together, clearly satisfied with the change in topic. “Well we have today for ourselves before we need to visit the funeral house tomorrow morning. What do we want to do for today?”

By then the conversation degraded to casual banter, as all of the melancholy ebbed away from the table.

My parents and I had indulged ourselves in a number of leisurely activities in and out of Delgate, ranging from sightseeing, to tasting the local flavors to strolling down the hiking trails up Green Hill. Celestia’s resplendent sun and the comfortably warm climate only intensified our experience in Troteira. All in all, it was a great family reunion and had brought us closer together than we had been for the last two years.

After an exquisite buffet at the Lush Hotel’s restaurant, we winded down to having a drink outside by the swimming pools. The waters glistened with the night skies of Luna’s masterpiece as we pleasantly chatted the evening away. Eventually I broke out a yawn.

“My goodness!” Morning exclaimed. “How long have we been out here?”

I finished my glass of cider. “It is getting a bit late, and I am feeling a wee bit drowsy,” I disclosed, fumbling with the glass so as it wouldn’t escape my telekinetic grip.

Iron gave a hearty chuckle. “And a bit tipsy too, I’d say.”

“I-I can handle my drink,” I boasted as I finally set the glass down on the table. “It’s just that I haven’t slept that well these last few days.”

“Rough seas, eh?” the elder unicorn teased.

“Any sea is too rough in my books.”

We all giggled like school fillies, earning some looks from a passing waiter. Perhaps the drinks were getting to us; but who could say? I certainly couldn’t, not while my mind was this sluggish with exhaustion. Steadying myself on the table, I rose to my four hooves.

“In any case I’m going to my room and get some sleep.”

Dew nodded graciously in spite of the cider’s influence. “Fine with us. We’ll meet here tomorrow at nine, alright?”

I nodded lazily as I made my way to the hotel’s atrium. “Just get a parasprite or two to my room if I’m sleeping like a rock.”

My parents laughter cut off once I closed the sliding door. Fortunately enough the trip to room sixty-three was not a long one. I shuffled my key awkwardly for a moment before it unlocked the door successfully.

The hotel room itself was the normal fare according to the room classification that the reception had explained to me. It was in essence a smaller apartment than the one I was used to, and yet it offered more than my apartment in the Capes could. The bed was modeled after the cumulus furniture and while it was not cloud furniture, it was the closest to sleeping on clouds that anypony without wings could get. There were some cushion seats to relax in and a low table that could double both as a dining table and as a study. Even the bathroom was lavish with quality: Shower caps, towels and even bathrobes were provided in it. To think that this was the standard room and that the Lush Hotel had three more suite levels, up to the Celestial Suite… my mind drooled just at the possible level of comfort that they could provide.

But all of that didn’t matter for now; all I wanted to do now was to collapse on the cloud that was my bed. Strange, my mind wondered sarcastically, why am I getting the weirdest sense of déjà vu?

My thoughts ended once I entered Luna’s realm of dreams.

A plane of yellowed grass waved in the wind, and I found myself caught right in the middle of it. It extended beyond the horizon, reaching farther than my eyes could see, without a single feature breaking up the field of dancing grass.

I turned and trotted about aimlessly, flattening the tall grass with each hoof fall. Every now and then I would stop to regain my bearings in the featureless landscape, always finding that the trail of trampled grass left behind by me disappeared each time I took my eyes off of it. This continued for a long while until something stood out of the golden field of grass:

It was a fig tree; twisting, ancient, with leaves of a dull green and graying trunk.

It called to me, beckoning me closer with its swaying branches. I stomped through more grass as I approached the elderly tree. Once close I inspected the fig tree further, yet I was unable to discern anything more than I could from a distance.

Stumped, I looked around, searching for something else that was of interest. Once again, the path of trodden golden-yellow grass was nowhere to be seen, but as I turned to see the fig tree it had been replaced by a bronze statue.

Lyra.

It bore the same yearning expression as the statue back in the square, the same wild mane, the same determined look in her eyes.

I found myself revolted of the image before me. This was supposed to be my grandmother? She had betrayed the Crown and abandoned her own family to prevent a race of warring bipeds from being uplifted to our status. They did nothing to deserve our help yet in our infinite wisdom and generosity we had deemed them worthy of salvation. Truly disgusting.

Wait. Those thoughts were not mine.

“Of course they are not yours, child.”

I jumped in shock. Where had that voice come from?

“It’s so sad,” the voice continued, “to see that the views that you hold are not yours; they never were yours to begin with.”

The voice was difficult to place: It had an ethereal feel to it, sounding like a distant echo of a mare. Fear rising in me, I anxiously searched for the origins of the voice. With nowhere else to fall upon, my eyes turned to the statue that had taken a life of its own:

The glittering eyes and eager grin were now replaced by a deadpan scowl and eyes on the verge of tears. Its forelock and tail wavered, granted life by the whistling wind.

“Who are you?”

The bronze effigy beamed a sincere smile behind those pleading eyes.

“Who am I?” it parroted, chuckling slightly, “I am dead Crystal. You should know that.”

“Lyra?”

It nodded with a metallic creak. “Yes, I was Lyra. But who I was is not important, what matters is what I did.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “What you did? You left your family to help creatures deemed unwilling to be helped! You let down the Crown, your country, your family!”

The metal mare averted its gaze in shame, once more frowning.

“It… wasn’t quite like that,” it spoke. “But that is not what I meant; I found the truth.”

“The truth?”

“Yes, the reality of the Arrival and the human race. You have been misled Crystal—you, your family and everybody from your generation. They had good intentions, we all did, but in our ignorance we sacrificed the truth.”

“What do you mean?”

“You shall know in due time,” the bronze unicorn explained, “but your first step is to understand that your own stance on the world is tainted. I cannot help you if you can't overcome that first step.”

It turned to face the sun, a sense of longing evident in its expression. “My time here is dwindling Crystal, you soon won’t have me to look up to.”

“B-but there’s so much that I need to know! So much that I want to know!”

The rust-colored mare answered with a warm smile. “Don’t worry, we shall meet again. I hope that you will understand Crystal: My reasons, the humans… everything.”

A light emanated from the metal body, and the strong alloy structure burned from the brightness. It was fading away, the ashes flew in the wind.

“Wait! Don’t go!”

But it was too late, the statue had completely vanished, only with some of the residue from the fire laid in the spot being the only evidence of its existence. I was once more left alone in the field of grass, but now I felt cold, vulnerable.

What was that? Who was it?

“Please,” I sniffed, tearing up from the dread of seclusion, “don’t leave me!

No voice answered my call. Only the wind kept company, blowing a chilling breeze into my teal coat.

Please…

Don’t go.

The New Mare's News

I awoke, drenched in cold sweat and shivering in fright of the... dream? Details of the nightmare faded as I tried to recollect it: A field… a tree dancing in the wind… something about a statue? I couldn’t recall now, my memory failing me.

No, there was one thing that did stick in my mind, the horrible feeling of loneliness.

I rubbed my forehead gingerly as a wave of fear chilled down along my spine. Never had I really felt this sort of dread over being alone. It got lonely at my apartment at the Capes at times and I did begin to feel homesick, but never truly afraid of having nopony to keep me company.

I haven’t felt this scared since I was… what, four?

Shrugging off the bed covers to leap out of them, I went through my morning routines in the lavatory. Minutes later I came out, donning a towel that dried away the last patches of moist hair, and took a look at myself in the large gold-framed mirror.

Besides the cream-colored towel rubbing away at the back of my neck nothing looked out of place: My dark cyan coat and white mane showed little sign of wetness and my golden eyes, despite the rough awakening, looked pristine and bore no look of exhaustion.

And yet, something was amiss: I couldn’t quite put my hoof on it…

Ah! The morning light looked odd. That’s what it was.

Not much more light basked the room when I had parted the velvet curtains, and in the distant horizon it was clear that the sun was just beginning to dawn, as the sky was colored red by the rising disk. Just how didn’t I notice how dark it was when I got up? I decided to chalk it up as temporary disorientation, mostly from being in a new environment, since something of the sorts did happen when I first came to the Capes.

It was a few hours before my parents would even wake, and common sense dictated that I should recover the lost sleep. However I did not feel the least bit drowsy so against my good judgment I decided to go to get a drink by the swimming pools. After putting on my neck tie I left the room.

A stillness hung in the hallways of the Lush Hotel as only some of the hotel staff and early birds quietly went about their morning business. The restaurant area was a lavish hall, complete with a buffet table (now lacking in food items) and with a carpet with the most intricate of designs tying the whole room together. Just beyond were the doors to the outdoors pools. The dining hall was almost completely empty, save for a unicorn and earth pony enjoying themselves a warm drink by the radio. Only the calming sound of classical music echoed in the room, with the occasional whisper between the two ponies. A taupe pony softly snored behind the counter of the bar.

I approached the counter, careful not to make too much noise, and nudged him gently.

He stirred and blinked heavily. Recognizing that I was a customer he snapped to attention and put on his best smile.

“Good morning sir. Sorry, didn’t get a chance to sleep well tonight. What will it be?”

I smiled softly. “Don’t worry, you’re not the only one who didn’t sleep well.” I looked behind him to see what was in stock. “Some green tea if you please—warm if possible.”

With a nod the bartender began to prepare the drink. “You can take a seat in the dining room while I get your drink sir, I’ll bring it over to you.”

“I’ll be outside by the swimming pools.”

Before I could turn to leave he gave me a surprised look. “Are you sure sir? The early morning temperatures are below the forties this season. It’s awfully cold outside.”

I looked to the world outside and did indeed notice some of the dew on the windows seemed to be frost. With the bartender’s warning compounding the natural signs I reconsidered my earlier decision. It did look cold now that he did mention it…

“Guess that I’ll sit by the radio then,” I conceded.

The bartender nodded. “I’ll be right with you sir.”

Making my way to the main dining room I found myself a place by the radio, close to the dark pink unicorn. I let my thoughts drift as the tin-quality yet suave piano piece emanating from the wooden box. Taking a closer look at the ponies in the room with me I noticed that the dark pink mare was overlooking a mess of papers and notes upon her table. The light tan earth pony by her gave a small nod acknowledging my presence.

I murmured a ‘hello’ and went back to enjoying the music.

Soon afterwards the bartender appeared with my drink. While I thanked him for the drink, his appearance had caught the attention of the unicorn. She gave me an odd look, as if she were mulling over something. After the bartender left she approached tentatively.

Taking notice of her looming presence I addressed the unicorn. “May I help you?”

She recoiled slightly, not expecting a reaction from me. “I’m sorry,” she began apologetically, “but are you Crystal Clear?”

My eyebrow rose: Had I seen this mare somewhere before? “Have we met?”

The pink pony gave a small smirk. “Not personally, no. But I remember seeing your name and picture in some of your articles on the PRPI’s scholastic papers.”

“Ah, a fellow Perlino student?” I asked, quite pleasantly surprised.

“Yes, but I don’t think we were in the same faculty: I’m in Sustainable Agricultural and Land Management.”

“That’s why your face wasn’t familiar to me,” I replied. “If you’re in the agriculture department, then we wouldn’t even have been in the same campus.”

“Right, you were in sociology?” the student solicited uncertainly, looking to me for confirmation.

“That’s right,” I nodded, feeling a sense of pride growing in me. Then, realizing that I still didn’t know the unicorn’s name, I shook my head and laughed awkwardly: “I’m sorry, but I haven’t learned your name yet.”

“Ah, right, how careless of me.” She offered a hoof, “the name’s Eco Dev.”

I took the hoofshake while taking a note of her name. It was clearly human inspired, using abbreviations and words that didn’t exist in the Equestriani vocabulary a few generations back.

“Here on holiday?” I prodded, hoping to get a conversation going whilst I waited for morning to roll by.

“Yes, for a few weeks.” Eco sighed as she looked over her table of notes. “It’s just that it hasn’t felt like vacation yet.”

“Ah,” I nodded knowingly, “the dreaded exams eh?”

“And this is just the first year! At this rate I won’t even be able to leave my dormitory during my uni holidays.”

“You’re lucky,” I pointed out in a chiding tone, “I couldn’t even leave Pinto the first year.”

Eco stared. “I take it that sociology is ninety percent written?”

“Just thereabouts. Theory got intensive fast.”

“For three years?” After I nodded she blew a low whistle. “And now I’m relieved that my course involves a lot of technical classes.”

“Yeah, the only good thing I got out of those three years of Tartarus besides my degree was a warm meal almost every day.”

We both chuckled at that. Soon afterwards though, while I was sipping my tea, the agriculture student pouted slightly. “It’s too bad that they’ve begun charging four bits per food item; I miss having free vegetable soup every weekday.”

The mood immediately turned somber. “Yes, food prices have been on the rise as of late.”

“That’s part of the reason why I decided to do agriculture,” Eco mumbled, her eyes having a sense of longing about them. “I want to do my part to help rid the food crises that are rampant outside of Equestria and its sphere of influence. It’s sickening to know that ponies back in Canterlot can expect to have lavish dinners while there are foals in Buckswana who can’t even graze.”

I agreed vehemently; just thinking that there was somepony who was starving right now…

“If only the barrier could discriminate…”

The mare looked over at me, bearing an inquisitive gaze. “What do you mean?”

I gave her an incredulous look. “Didn’t they teach you? Before the barrier began to expand humans had an enormous agricultural infrastructure that would’ve spared us of this global food shortage. The human population was nearly eight billion before we started up the Conversion Bureaus.”

She stared. “They could grow enough food to feed billions?”

“Uh, not that I recall. They had to resort to fishing and domesticating animals such as…” I gulped, “…cows and other animals for food.”

Eco visibly paled. “They ate sapient creatures?”

I shook my head. “N-no, the cows of their world weren’t the same as those from ours. They couldn’t even understand words. Still, it’s uncanny. Even though humans mostly made it a point to not eat other animals that could at the very least understand them, it still bothers me when I read that humans ate cows, chickens, sh-sheep...”

I stopped: the uncomfortable feeling was growing too quickly for me to stomach and, judging by Eco’s look on her face, she was feeling the same way. It was difficult enough for Equestrianis to get over the human’s omnivore diet when they had actually seen the less intelligent animals; for ponies who came after the extinction of those human animals, it was difficult to remain emotionally neutral when the only comparison were the more sapient animals native to Equestria.

“That’s barbaric!” the mare exclaimed.

My gaze fell to the floor as I tried to keep my emotions in check. “Intellectually I can see the logic to it,” I stated, “there was a large demand for food, so the humans sought every possible way to meet that demand—including harvesting animals.” I looked insistently into Eco’s eyes. “It is a cold, cruel reasoning that some of the humans admitted that it was a necessary evil. A-and even then, humans still were unable to feed everyone.”

The dark pink unicorn was positively floored. “Sweet Luna… it’s no wonder that I wasn’t informed on this.”

“But that’s what strikes me as odd,” I interjected, “if you’re in a land development course, you should’ve been taught, if briefly, what’s been causing this food shortage.”

“All that they’ve told us was that the population boom was too large for the agricultural infrastructure of Equestria, and that trying to expand it has been problematic mostly because we didn’t really understand the size of this world.” Eco pouted pensively as she went over some of the notes on the table. She pointed to one in particular. “We have populations in every continent and it’s difficult for the food in Equestria to reach every single one of the continents. Even with the advent of airplanes, the world hasn’t gotten any smaller.”

Looking over I could see that her notes did in fact detail what she had just explained, albeit in a more complete manner. Eco continued, “Our professors haven’t really gone over the socio-political impact of the food crisis—heck, they practically glossed over the growing dissent in the Neighpon region.”

As if on cue, the classical music cut to the steady voice of a news anchor. “Good morning Equestria!” he greeted enthusiastically, “you’re listening to Radio Equestria, and welcome to our six-‘o-clock Early Bird News. I am your host, Analog Hook.

“In Shanghay, the series of mysterious radiation sickness-related illnesses has been confirmed to originate from contaminated irrigation waters. An estimated twelve-thousand hectares of newly cultivated land was reported to have been tainted by the irradiated water. The cause of this appears to be a new hydroelectric dam that had inadvertently diverted the Young Tze river into fallout zones. Locals were outraged of the neglect from government officials.”

“How could they build a dam if they didn’t know where the river would go?” a new voice, laden with a distinct Eastern accent and frustration. “They know that there are contaminated zones around here! Those new farms were just beginning to feed everypony, and now we’re back right where we started! Seven years of hard work ruined by those bènhuò! Where is Celestia when we need her?”

“Tensions between Crown officials and local political parties have reignited at the prospect of future hardships, as protesters took to the streets of Shanghay,” Analog continued, detailing the events. “So far there have been no reports of violence or arrests, but with the local populace facing a new food shortage, it is likely that riots may start up again. The local mayor, Tangmian, had this to say:”

“This lack of communication between civil construction and governmental authorities has to stop,” the mare spoke, a resounding echo of voices from a crowd drowning her voice to barely audible levels. “All services must first declare their intentions to the appropriate channels before they take any actions, so we can avoid incidents like these. Without a strong government presence here, this practice of doing whatever each sector pleases will not phase out. Even though those held accountable will be dealt with, others will take their place and create another disaster. If the Equestriani Crown remains in Equestria, then we should look to ourselves to govern.” To that, a booming cheer erupted, as hooves stomped and ponies cried in applause.

Analog Hook came back on. “As of yet no comment has yet been made by Equestriani authorities on the developing situation in Shanghay.”

Eco seemed taken aback. “They didn’t say anything? Why would they—”

The grey pony nearby shushed her, trying to focus on the next bit of news.

“Still looking in the East,” the radio host continued, the noise of shuffling papers audible over his voice, “a shipment of food heading for Foal Chi Mihn has been raided by pirates based in Neighpon. This is the sixth attack of the last three months, with four more casualties, including a Royal Guard.”

“This latest confrontation between the Royal Guard and Neighponese pirates has put into question the effectiveness of the escort system that had been implemented a month back. Authorities have requisitioned two new planes for patrol purposes, as a means to locate the elusive pirate hideout. However, guards on site such as the local pegasus commander remain unconvinced.”

“I can’t say much, since I’m just soldier,” a mare admitted, sounding relatively gruff, “but we’ve flown at least twenty missions to try to find the pirate hideouts, and have nothing to show for it. Maybe we’ve just been unlucky and the planes are what we’ve been missing since the start, but I can’t say I’m enthusiastic about finding those elusive pirates. Maybe we’ll get lucky this time.”

Hook’s voice returned to narrate the news: “This pirate raid followed after a food riot in Foal Chi Mihn. It is believed that pirates used this to their advantage while attention was focused away from the sea routes. Local politicians have come to expect these attacks.”

“I’ve pretty much given up hope on the government’s capacity to stop the pirates,” a tin-quality quality voice of a mare said vehemently. “There’s been a growing sentiment here since the start of the food riots, the mínzúzhǔyìqíngxù, to separate ourselves from Equestria. Ponies outside of the Eastern regions might see this as treason, but hunger can make a pony do crazy things. Extreme situations call for extreme measures.”

By then my mind phased out the radio as Hook went into the news of flooding in Whoazambique; this stream of bad news, while disheartening, had come to be no surprise. It had been a year of constant problems, complications and disasters for Equestria—good news from the world were few and far between, and, often times, forgotten within a week.

It was saddening to say the least. Some said that life in Equestria before the Arrival was far more idyllic than what people here have gotten used to: No pirates, no thievery, no hunger, no unrest, no violence, no natural disasters…

Such a world seemed something fictional to most who grew up here, myself included.

I noticed the dark pink unicorn shaking her head. “How could ponies even think of severance from the Crown?” she questioned in disbelief.

I shrugged. “It’s like that politician said, when one is driven to hunger he can do the unthinkable.”

“No, it can’t be just that,” Eco insisted, mulling over something. Her eyes lit up: “I bet the humans’ influence has to do with this political dissent!”

Eco’s speculation was both interesting and baffling. While I wasn’t an expert on human political thinking I definitely knew more than most. The details escaped me, but I could name most of the form of governance and describe them to some extent. Humans had a plethora of political systems, including the monarchies that everypony was aware of, as well as some more curious ones.

Some of the human monarchies had a royal family that did not actually rule the country, but rather by a group of ministers elected by the populace. Some didn’t even involve a royal family; sometimes the people had a say with the passing of laws—democracy they called it. A stranger one, called communism, functioned under the idea that everything belonged to everyone and that there was no need for a state. Each one of them were an interesting piece of political philosophy, and deserved to be studied more.

There was no question that the various governmental systems had some influence to what was happening around the world; as far as I was aware some of the protesters in Shanghay had been calling for a rule of the people—a republic as it was called. A few years ago in Rio de Maneiro there had been a coup by the local military commander, who claimed that he was disgusted at the living conditions and wanted to establish a new city state. While he had support from some of the poor and the needy, he had neither the numbers nor the experience to resist the brutal reaction from the Crown. The rebellion was short-lived and had led to a near-military rule of the city.

None of this would have happened if we had never met humanity.

I shrugged once more. “Maybe,” I mumbled, I had no intention to continue that line of discussion.

Eco pressed on: “I swear, humans continue to be problems even after they’re gone.”

“That’s not fair on them though,” I interjected, without really thinking.

She cocked her eyebrow. “Why? They tried to kick us out this world!”

I leaned back on my cushion, my usual pose for thinking. Then, looking at the radio, an idea came to me. “Well, we were just using a human invention just now. And we have planes, movies, self-propelled ships, automate—”

“You’re just rattling off names of machines,” she accused, interrupting my list. “We would have eventually come up with them, we are inventors too.”

“What about the university and college system?” I rebutted sharply, “before them, we only had the elementary and academy system: Either too basic or too specialized. Seeing as we’re both products of their educational system we ought to give them credit for where we are now.”

Eco opened her mouth, but then shut it close. Whatever was her thought, she wasn’t going to make it known any time soon.

With that, a jingle from the radio caught our attention. Analog Hook spoke once more, this time with some sense of hurry in his voice. “I’ve just been handed some breaking news: Following suspicions and rumors of Prince Shining Armor’s health, the Crown has finally come out with his status. We’re patching you to a live feed of Canterlot spokespony.”

The radio faded to a chorus of whispers. Suddenly a series of clicks, of which I assumed were photographs being taken. Feedback from a microphone squealed through the speakers. Once it quieted down, a stallion spoke.

“We have received a report from the Royal Hospital of Canterlot, with regards of Prince Shining Armor.” He took in a steady breath before continuing. “The Prince, as of three-o’-clock this morning, has been declared dead by medical officials.”

A collective gasp erupted, both from the radio and the dining hall. The whispers started up again as the speaker resumed. “Ever since his stay in the Inuyuma region fifty-seven years ago, he had been suffering from the milder effects of radiation poisoning. These effects have built up over the course of his life, and had begun to worsen a few months back. The Prince’s health got to a critical level a week back, and was interned into the RHC. In spite of the best efforts from doctors, Shining Armor did not make it past the night.

“A public funeral has been planned to take place within the week in the capitol, a more concrete date to be released later.”

There was no further comment, leading to a tide of voices demanding more information. But none came; only a booming voice, likely from a guard, threatening to clear the room if the journalists didn’t silence themselves. The feed cut off abruptly.

“Er,” Analog hesitated, caught off guard as well. “It seems that we’re experiencing some technical difficulties. We will try to return to the Canterlot feed as soon as possible.”

Once more Hook returned to announce other headlines, but none of us were listening. Even the bartender had heard of the Prince’s death. We all were devastated. I shook my head.

Just another tragedy of this world.

Why do the Best Die?

The Antlertic breeze sent my mane fluttering while my head hung low just over the rim of the chariot, staring over the deep blue ocean. Once again the familiar nausea from yesterday morning returned in full force, leaving me in something of an ill lull. Thankfully chariots were much faster than sea ferries, and Grazeiosa wasn’t far from Port Delgate – within minutes we’d be landing.

Over the whistle of the rushing wind and the groaning oak-wood of the chariot, the distinct rumble of aircraft could be heard in the distance. Surely enough, a plane loomed eastwards heading for Delgate. A round of grumbling from the pegasus pulling team began, mostly in the local dialect.

What exactly the pegasi were muttering about I couldn’t tell, as my mind was too busy floating among the cloud cover.

That, and the motion sickness was getting to me.

Iron Heart slung his foreleg around my neck. “You alright kiddo?”

“Never better,” I deadpanned. I really shouldn’t have eaten that toast before leaving.

He gave me a reassuring smile. “Come on Crystal, we’ll be landing soon.”

“Not soon enough,” I retorted, doing my best attempt to give him the evil eye. The blue unicorn laughed heartily at that.

“You’re out of practice,” he stated cheekily, “that stare of yours won’t be scaring me any time soon.”

Of course my dad was right, as the chariot descended down soon afterwards. The axle and spokes of the wheels creaked on touchdown and the vehicle came to a halt after several hooves.

“Bem-vindos á Graciosa,” one of the pegasi announced in his native tongue. The stallion besides him promptly bopped the other on the head. “Excuse my friend – he meant to say: ‘Welcome to Grazeiosa,’” he corrected, staring knives at his fellow pegasus.

My mother took no notice of this discrepancy between the two pullers and voiced her thanks on our behalf. As soon as my parents got out of the flying contraption, I shakily stepped out myself, struggling to not simply scramble out of it.

Murmuring my silent thanks for being on solid ground I took in the surroundings of the local airstrip: There was the always important runway, the terminal and some other buildings – probably living quarters for personnel.

What was most striking was the barebones appearance of the airstrip; even in Perlino, which was barely a city, had a more sprawling airfield, prepared for receiving the much larger aircraft and the masses of people passing through.

It wasn’t difficult to see that Grazeiosa had no large settlement just from seeing the island’s size and that of the airfield. The fact that the airstrip was on the other end of the island from the village compounded this sense of remoteness from the civilization of the continents.

It’s funny how this small island is of a significant cultural importance. It was the first place where Equestrianis and humans officially met, only because of its close proximity to the Equestriani continent, and it showed. Despite the appeal of living on the spot where ponies took their first steps outside of the barrier, much of the island was untouched from urbanization.

I was taken out from my inner musings when I noticed that my parents were speaking with a maroon earth pony. He looked to be around his early twenties, though his deep voice made me consider that he was maybe in his thirties. He kept his tan mane long and wild, bringing out his azure eyes. Steadying my knees, still wobbly from the flight, I approached them to catch a snippet of their conversation.

“…is ready, everypony is already at the home,” the stallion finished saying to Iron before turning towards me. “Ah! The little feller here must be Crystal Clear – how are ya?”

“Just fine,” I mumbled, scanning the stallion before me. Do I really look that young? “And you are?”

“Name’s Blossom Leaf,” the maroon pony replied with a smile, “I’m- was a friend of Lyra an’ helped take care of herself.”

“So,” Iron spoke up, giving a sheepish cough, “shall we go then?”

“Yes let’s,” Dew agreed hurriedly. “Don’t want to keep the funeral waiting just for us.”

Leaf nodded. “Alrighty, jus’ follow me.”

The earth pony led us down along a dirt track leading westwards, away from the airfield and towards the coast. As the hills softened the familiar watery horizon returned.

However it wasn’t the ocean that dominated the view anymore; there was a large continent just to the north – Equestria.

No one knew how the Arrival happened, though everypony recognized its ramifications. Inaction was rampant for the first several days as people waited for news from the Crown.

What would’ve happened if ponies acted before? I wondered. Would we still be in this mess?

As we walked down the path Blossom Leaf went on talking about himself: “I’m a Seaddle boy m’self,” he commented. “Was a small-time farmer there, though that didn’t go nowhere and had to give it up to the ALD. Friend of mine from Delgate suggested I set up shop here – said that l could make big bits here with the allure of prime real estate.”

He gave an uncomfortable chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “Hoo-boy, was that a fool’s hope or what.” The stallion pointed to the growing coast line, with Equestria still in sight. “I mean, would’ja look at that view! If only ponies didn’t have food on their minds all of the time, then maybe I would’ve had some customers when I started out.”

“It is quite a view,” Iron agreed, “I would love to have a summer home here.”

“I ‘preciate the thought Iron.”

I was looking out at the ocean when the maroon stallion shot a question my way: “Say Crystal, what’cha do exactly?”

“I um,” I fumbled, “I’m a sociologist.”

“Sociologist huh?” he parroted, eyebrow arched. “That means yer one o’ those scientists that study society, right?”

“In a nutshell yes,” I replied, “I look at cultures and their trends, the social classes and their relationships with the economy and laws of a nation.”

If my professor from university were to hear that, he would’ve been pleased with my concise and accurate description.

Leaf sounded impressed. “Right, and why do ponies need to study that again? Sorry, I’m a simple pony – never even started high school back in Seaddle.”

“It’s quite alright,” I answered, sensing an opportunity to lecture. “We need to understand how society in general works. There are certain recognizable patterns that have been proven to be of a causative nature, so if we learn to distinguish said patterns we can, to a degree, guess at how we evolve as a society. This in turn is useful information for governing bodies, in our case, the Crown, to act accordingly.”

Leaf blew a low whistle, and I could’ve sworn that Dew sighed happily. “So yer like one a soothsayer that uses science rather than dodgy magic?”

I laughed at the surprisingly comical analogy. “Yes. Yes, I guess you could say that.”

“I s’pose you’ve got yerself a cozy job with the Crown.”

My ears drooped slightly as I went on to correct him. “No, I wish I did have one, but I’ve still got to write a thesis before I get any attention.”

“Ya mean like an article or book?” Leaf prodded. When I nodded he continued, “what’cha gonna write about exactly?”

“Oh, I want to do a broad take on humans,” I casually replied.

Both of my parents stopped dead in their tracks.

“Humans?” Dew asked incredulously. “You didn’t say that you were going to write a book about humans Crystal.”

My father nuzzled her, trying to reassure her.“I think he means that he wants to write how much of a burden and obstacle they’ve been.” He gave me a hard look. “Right?”

Their mood had switched on a dime, and I thusly found myself caught completely off guard from their reactions. I understood how some would be disgusted at the mere mention of humans, but in all sincerity I wasn’t expecting my parents to react so badly.

Even Leaf seemed to be slightly worried. “You’d better tread lightly with that pal,” he cautioned, “Lyra was really big into humans herself. I mean, she was a nice mare an’ all, but that obsession ruined her.”

I looked about with some worry. Is the topic of humans so taboo that I can’t even say that I’m writing about them, even after all of these years?

“I-uh,” I fumbled, trying to find the most tactful way to appease them. “Well, yes – I want to write what they really were like. There’s been no book or thesis on humanity after all; if I’m the one to write the first official article on it, I’ll be in the academic spotlight!”

My mother remained unconvinced. “So was Lyra, but for all of the wrong reasons,” she rebutted.

“Look,” I tried in the most serious tone that I could muster, “I’m not saying that Lyra was right – heck, I think she was insane to think against the princesses. But I do think that we ought to remember about humanity.”

“Why would ponies want to remember death and war?” the green mare countered.

“Because then we can learn to avoid it!” I interjected, a bit loudly. “Have you seen what’s been going on around the world?” I pointed East. “Ponies are starving and there are pirates in Neighpon stealing what little food there is; there are politicians in the East who think the princesses shouldn’t rule! They’re thinking of secession in Shanghay! And Rio De Maneiro shows what happens when cities try to sever their ties with the Crown: More suffering and despair! Do you really want ponies fighting each other?”

My mother was stunned at my sudden outburst, and I was left staring at her awkwardly. Iron and Leaf exchanged apprehensive glances, and…

Did I just tell off my mother?

I shook the frustration away as I addressed Dew. “I’m- I’m sorry mom,” I breathed, feeling deeply ashamed. “I didn’t mean to shout.”

It wasn’t often that I lost my cool like that, and the last time was in a polemic I took part back in a class at university. And I would never snap at someone like that unless I felt emotionally attached to the discussion. Writing about humans was something that I deeply wanted, but was I really this passionate about it?

Obsessed more likely, a traitorous thought emerged, maybe like Lyra?

Leaf coughed awkwardly, trying to break the tension in the air. “We, er- are almost there. We oughta get going.”

As he set off my parents, particularly Morning Dew, gave me the look that they would give to a stranger. I could tell what they were thinking, ‘is this our son? Is he going to be the new Lyra?’

I said nothing – I just hung my head low for the rest of the trip.

As noon neared, we had already left the hilly interior of Grazeiosa and come to one of the most beautiful beaches I’ve ever seen. While the sands were dull in color they were teeming with plants, giving the beach a striking mash of deep tans, greens and reds, along with the dark blue of the sea. The currents were minimal so that there were almost no waves crashing onto the beach.

And just ahead of the tide was a wooden cottage. Its aesthetics were similar to the sort of architecture one would find in northern towns and cities like Hoofshire and Furlong, but the wood was of a shade of white, bleached in the intense sun that northerners didn’t often see. It was two-stories with the top floor constructed with a wide balcony facing the glittering waters.

If this was my grandmother’s home, I have to say that she had a modest, albeit wonderful, place.

Outside the wooden structure was a small gathering of ponies, all congregated by tables, benches and—

A casket.

I expected a wave of sorrow to come crashing down at the sight of the casket, but it did not come. Why am I not feeling sad right now?

We reached the funeral, and we met with the those waiting on us. I didn’t pay too much attention however – the outburst from earlier and the chastising glares I felt on me for the rest of the trip had left an impact on me. It was mostly a blur: Friends from the island’s village, some strangers who wanted to pay their respects regardless of their relationship with the decedent and I think one mare was there simply because the funeral was the only thing of note happening at the time.

Occasionally conversing with the other guests, I was mostly looking over the pine wedge that was the coffin. Floral decorations and tributes of white and black arranged the top of the funerary box, along with a framed picture of Lyra.

The light aquamarine mare was not the same one that was commemorated at the main plaza of Delgate; her golden eyes, while brimming with experience and knowledge, did not have the same glimmer that the statue conveyed. The pale cyan mane had graying highlights, and it was brushed with care, unlike the statue’s wilder mane. Not even her smile was the same – it wasn’t the ecstatic grin that was intrepid and adventurous; this was a far more humble and tired smile.

The Lyra in the photograph had aged considerably in comparison to the unicorn in the plaza. It was of some surprise that the imitation of the pony had more life than the one depicted here. In a sense it was saddening, yet I could not bring myself to connect with her, not in the same manner as I did with my parents. As far as I was concerned, she was a complete stranger.

And I hated myself for that.

“Reminiscing there Crystal?”

I jumped slightly at the voice. While I was in deep thought Blossom Leaf had somehow managed to sneak up by my side.

“Uh, no” I replied hastily. “Not in the way you’d think. I never actually met her.”

The maroon stallion nodded comprehensively. “Shame,” he commented, his gaze resting on the picture of Lyra. “I think the two of you would’ve gotten along well.”

I cocked my eyebrow at that. “Really? Why would you say that?”

“Welp, Lyra always had a way of ruffling feathers when it came to something that she cared deeply about.” He sighed softly, his eyes carrying an air of nostalgic fondness about them. “She was a very kind pony though,” Leaf stated, “even when life hasn’t been exactly kind to her, she didn’t blame it on anypony. And that’s something that really takes character, ya know what I’m saying?”

I shrugged. “Can’t really say anything, I never knew how she was.”

His head shook slightly in disappointment. “Again, I gotta say that even in her later years she was a really strong-headed mare. There was this one time she would try to climb to the roof to fix it up all on her lonesome – at seventy-three no less! Not many seniors would try doin’ that.”

He chuckled softly at the memory. “’Course, she could never get past the fifth step, but she didn’t give up easily. I caught her trying that stunt three more times before I climbed up the roof and fixed it myself.”

I offered a smile. “Must’ve been fun times.”

“You kiddin’?” he exclaimed, giving me a funny look. “Each time I found her on that ladder my heart skipped beats! I seriously thought that she’d kill herself trying to care of herself! Ever since then I made sure I had my eye on your grandmother at all times so that she wouldn’t pull any fast ones on me.”

I laughed quietly at this, finally beginning to feel that Lyra had been someone whom I had known. Still I was unable to actually think of her as an actual family member. I scowled at that.

Leaf caught the sulk. “I know how yer thinkin’ right now: ‘Why couldn’t I have known my grandma more?’”

I blinked in surprise. He smirked. “Yer an open book Crystal, and you act jus’ like her.”

“I’m surprised that your cutie mark has nothing to do with reading minds Leaf,” I recovered, hiding my shock of him guessing at what I was feeling. How does he do that?

The stallion laughed in response. “I suppose that’s what I should’a been doing in the first place after all, eh?” he chuckled as nudged my side.

Mumbling an agreement, my mind went back to contemplating the person that was now nothing but a corpse in a box. Was I really like Lyra? It felt wrong in a way, mostly because I couldn’t picture myself doing the same acts of treason that had condemned the mare to exile. I didn’t even like humans, they saddened me more than anything else, but like them? Never. I was nothing like Lyra.

…am I?

Eventually an elderly pegasus, Sun Rise or something along those lines, tapped a glass with a spoon, grabbing the attention of everyone attending. She called for everypony to gather around and announced that the time to lay the coffin in its final resting place had come.

“If you have any final words or thoughts that you’d like to share with us or our beloved Lyra Heartstrings, now is the time to do so.”

A violet-blue unicorn took the stand, his tan eyes expressing controlled grief. “I was, um, a good friend of Lyra. When I first came to Grazeiosa, some of the locals here had told me to avoid her, saying that she was a non-person and madpony. I disregarded their warnings, and to this day, I do not regret making that choice. She was a wonderful mare, forced to live by herself, alone and forgotten by the society that had ousted her.”

He turned to steal a quick glance at the still-framed picture. “Sh-she was kind, a-and good-hearted and strong-minded; Lyra was just like anyone of us despite what others said. She deserved friends, and…”

The unicorn paused, taking in a shuddering breath, eyes fluttering with tears. “An-and I am proud to know that I was a friend of hers.”

He bowed his head gracefully at the casket. “May you rest easy, Ly. You’ve earned it.”

A silent stomping from the crowd echoed as the stallion returned to his seat. A few more eulogies were shared, including one from Blossom Leaf and the one mare who hadn’t even known Lyra. The amount of genuine praise made me feel all the more remorse of the death, and I was seeing her more and more like an actual person.

And yet, I still was unable to consider her as a family member.

I cursed myself. Why? Why can’t I feel sorry for her?

Then came Iron’s turn to give one last speech on behalf of the decedent. Everyone listened in with anticipation, ears perked. Just before speaking, the unicorn shot a glare my way. It was his silent way to remind me that he hadn’t forgotten my earlier outburst. In response I broke line of sight and drooped my ears. Couldn’t he let go of that for just one minute? Even while he stood in front of his mother’s coffin, he would not give me respite.

His cold glare dissipated as he cleared his throat. “My mother was a great many things,” Iron began, occasionally glancing at some cue cards that he had on him. “Eccentric, stubborn, inconsiderate, and in some ponies’ minds, disloyal. However, as everyone here has heard, she was also a neighbor, a friend; she was a mare with many a virtue.

“Above all,” he resounded, chewing on his lip, “Lyra was a mother – my mother. While neither my family nor I understood her reasoning, she was no less a mother than any other. Society might never forgive her actions or her ideals, but she will forever be remembered by us all. Even after decades of seclusion, I’ve come here to remember her and give her one final farewell before she may enter her eternal slumber.”

Iron Heart motioned Dew to pass him a small bouquet of snow-white lilies. He laid the flowery tribute on the pine casket by the framed picture of Lyra with great care. “This – this is for you mom,” he announced, tears rolling down the sides of his muzzle. “I never hated you for what happened, nor will I ever forget you. Know this mom: I always loved you and always will, no matter what. Remember that.”

There was no applause, silent nor loud, for Iron’s eulogy. The sorrow emanating from him had warranted no cheer for his carefully selected words.

That’s something that bothered me; they were chosen for a reason, but I was unable to tell if they were truly authentic to what he really felt. His speech came off as slightly forced, but those tears looked genuine. He may have really felt sorry for her mother, but it wasn’t clear if he truly meant what he said.

If that isn’t the case, a voice in me stated, then why is he sorry for Lyra?

On cue, the casket bearers (two unicorns) lifted the wedge-shaped coffin, leaving behind some of the funerary flowers and the picture, and carried it towards the beach. The rest followed in silence.

A ways away from the wooden cottage was a recently dug grave. Everypony stood by the artificial fissure as the funerary box was lowered down gingerly in the grave. The pegasus from before gave the concluding orations, wishing Lyra a peaceful slumber before some of those attending tossed flowers on the casket.

I felt useless and guilty. Even as the grave was being filled I still couldn’t empathize Lyra in the same manner as I would with a close friend or parent.

It’s not fair! I didn’t even know you existed until a few days ago, how am I supposed to feel about somepony whom I don’t know dying?

But I had to do something, something that would prove to at least Lyra – that is, if she was listening – that I did care.

But I do care! I protested, I… I just don’t know if I care enough.

Feeling pressured at the fast rate of the interment, I knew that I had but one last thing that I could do.

“I’m…I’m sorry grandma,” I whispered wordlessly, my eyes fixated at the rapidly sinking coffin. “I wish I knew you better, and that we could have shared some moments together before… well, you know.”

Smooth.

“I don’t know what your thoughts were, nor do I think that I agree with your ideas, but I do think that I would’ve wanted to meet you, just once. I want to say that I’m sorry for what has happened to you and how you’ve been treated. But you’ve made your mark, and for that I will always admire you.

“So,” I scratched the back of my neck awkwardly, thinking of a way to finish the prayer properly. “In conclusion, uh, I wanted bid you farewell to wherever you’ll end up in, and hope that you may rest easy.”

Finally, as the remnants of the pine wood coffin disappeared underneath the sand, that wave of grief finally hit home, the culmination of two deaths within the day came crashing in. My eyes moistened with oncoming tears at long last.

First a prince, now a grandmother.

Goodbye and rest in peace – the two of you.

A Girl's Magic Trinkets

“Come on in—make yourselves comfy.”

Spurred on by Leaf’s friendly invitation, my parents and I made our way into the living room of the wooden cottage. Upon entry we were basked with a surprising amount of sunlight, even with the relatively few windows, the insides of the house were well lit. The stillness in the air, along with the rays of light, emanated the aura that one would feel when in a spiritual sanctuary.

I mentally rolled my eyes at that thought: here I was, in a living room of an old mare’s cottage of modest quality, and I was comparing it to one of those new religious institutes that had been popping up all over. The living room was quite small, mostly consisting of a large table placed dominantly in the center, some old cushions placed around it and two wooden cabinets lining the northern wall. All in all, a quaint living room; nothing about the room suggested that it was mostly used by a mad mare.

Still, seeing how the light played with the room and its furnishings was something for the eyes to behold.

Hang on, a voice interrupted, as my nose caught whiff of something, what’s that smell?

Quite unlike the aroma emitted by the wooden furniture, a sharp, sweet smell hung about in the air.

Dew took note of the smell, her own nostrils dilating in an attempt to place the particular odor. “Do you smell oranges?”

“It’s that obvious eh?” Leaf asked, sighing to our nods. “Lyra loved orange juice: she would have me make a batch of it whenever I came over. Come to think of it, now that she ain’t around no more, what am I gonna do with all of the stocked up oranges?”

“Maybe you could take some for yourself?” Dew suggested.

The stallion shook his head. “Naw, I don’t like ‘em; too strong for my tastes. But please!” he gestured to the cushions, “take a seat. Can I getcha anything, maybe something to drink?”

“I would love to have a cup of tea,” I stated, suspecting that he’d push us to have some orange juice —which was not the drink that I wanted right then— if I let him.

Leaf pouted pensively for a quick moment. “I’m not sure if there is any; I’d have to check. What about the two of you?” he inquired my parents.

“I’m fine for now,” Iron huffed, mostly interested in observing the room.

“I’d actually like to try some of that orange juice,” my mother told the Seaddle stallion, and with that, he immediately set out to procure the two drinks for us.

Left alone in the living room my parents sought the chance to express their first impressions of the cottage.

“It looks like it's in good conditions,” Iron commented, looking over the furnishing, “either mom wasn’t much of a mess or Leaf is a really good caretaker. I didn’t see any dust or cobwebs.”

Dew nodded. “Yes, I think that it’d be a good idea to keep Leaf around if we’re going to keep the house.” She looked over towards the door where the aforementioned stallion could be heard preparing juice. “I’d hate it if we’d have to lay him off, he seems like he really enjoys working here and it looks like he can do a good job of keeping the house in tiptop shape.”

“We’ll have to see,” the blue unicorn murmured, still looking about the living room. “I still want check the rest of the home before we decide anything.”

The green earth pony nodded once more in agreement, just as a voice called out from the kitchen. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news Crystal,” Leaf exclaimed, raising his voice over the clinks and tinkering of glass and metal, “but I don’t have any tea for you.”

Horseapples, I cursed inwardly, slightly frustrated. Considering what I’ve been feeling just minutes ago, tea would’ve been a tremendous help in calming my nerves. “It’s alright,” I called back, repressing my disappointment, “some water will do.”

The sounds of fiddling glass was the only response I got from Leaf.

Grumbling from the lack of acknowledgment my eyes drifted about the living room: it was of an odd design now that I took a closer look, mainly seeing how the room doubled as a dining room for the house. This sort of architectural decision would be more on par with small apartments or with the newer floating homes that were catching on. But traditionally the living and dining rooms were separated in Equestriani homes. While it’s true that cottages of this kind were a relatively new thing that became all the rage about seventy years back, they were still mostly adherent to the conventional blueprints common back then. Plus, it’s clear that this wasn’t a decision made due to lack of space or building materials, so this was done deliberately by choice.

The question was why? Was it because it was more practical? Perhaps; one less room to keep organized would definitely help. Additionally, bearing in mind that Lyra lived alone and her reputation, there would be little need to take in many guests often. It looked less impressive, but it did make sense in terms of convenience.

Or, I mentally added, is it perhaps to show that the proprietor doesn’t need to impress?

As that idea rolled around my head, it became more and more plausible: why try proving that you’re important or even relevant if everypony has already been convinced otherwise?

A new wave of guilt washed over me as my thoughts on Lyra were renewed. She really had it tough, not just to have your titles stripped, but to be left with few friends? I shuddered at the image of being completely alone and no one to turn to; no friends, no family.

My respect for my grandmother boosted, Leaf returned carrying a tray with two drinks: orange juice—he didn’t hear me after all.

“You misunderstood Crystal,” my mother told him, “he asked for water.”

“No no,” I interjected, forcing a smile, “juice is fine.”

Any trace of worry ebbed away from the burgundy stallion as he offered the drinks with a smile. “I’ve got a feeling you’ll love it.”

I gauged the fruit juice (which had bits of fresh pulp) in front of me before lifting it to my lips for a sip. My tongue was overwhelmed by the strong, acidic, yet sweet, flavor of orange. My eyes widened as a surge of electrifying energy washed down my throat along with the juice.

This was the darndest best orange juice I’ve ever had tasted and, judging Dew’s face, she too shared the same thoughts.

Leaf smirked at our reactions. “I knew you’d like it.”

We downed our drinks relatively quickly, while Iron and Dew interrogated Leaf away about the cottage’s conditions, how far was the closest store, where they could arrange supplies for the house, the works.

I wasn’t paying much heed to the conversation at this point, not so much because I was irritated, but because I felt like I needed to do something. Mumbling a quick ‘excuse me’ I walked around the room to investigate the furniture, namely the cabinets. They had glass displays, in one containing stacks of papers and in the other were various small statuettes; there was a set of the Bearers: each one depicted in a unique pose; two representing Celestia and Luna, both looking on with warmth; and there was another set of three that…

I stopped to take a closer look at the last three brass castings: each one was a small ape sitting down, though each one held a different posture to the other—one covered its eyes, the second covered its ears and the last one covered its mouth. A curious set, mostly due to the hidden symbolism that was obviously present, yet escaped my understanding. As far as I was aware primates were not a common subject in either literature or art, and the actions depicted here were not common. See, hear, speak nothing? Why would someone want others not to hear, see or speak?

Somepony would have to explain me that one, someone like—

Lyra, I realized, suddenly feeling down.

A certain aroma began to fill the dining room, and my mouth began to water; whatever Blossom was cooking up smelled delicious.

“Ah,” the stallion piped up at the first whiff of the food. “Soup’s up. Hope yer all hungry as I am.”

We all agreed in unison as I sat down, all other thoughts shoved aside for the moment. I can ask Leaf afterwards, I consented to myself.

Once our hunger was satiated, Leaf offered a tour of the house to which my parents happily accepted. We had finished checking out the ground floor, and were making our way for the top floor. The wooden staircase creaked in protest with each step, not used to so many hooves. It led us to a hallway that had two doors, one at each end.

Leaf turned to face my parents. “We’ve got the bedroom to the left and the study to the right,” he pointed out. “The study is pretty small and hasn’t been used for a while, so expect a lot of dust on old papers. It’d be a mess, but it could be rearranged into a guest room or second bedroom.”

“Maybe it’s best we take a look for ourselves?” Dew offered, looking somewhat hesitant about seeing either room.

To be honest I too felt some apprehension about this: one was the inner sanctum of a pony without political scruples and the other was her own personal quarters. Even though the sympathies were presented by various voices earlier, there was still the undeniable fact that even if Lyra was a regular mare if one came to know her personally she did challenge the Crown’s word and, by extension, that of the Royal Sisters. It was difficult for one who knew what the mare did to simply waltz in her private quarters without some rather unpleasant expectations; perhaps not to the point of finding skeletons in the closet, but still enough to have second thoughts before entering said quarters.

Iron was the only one of us who didn’t appear the least bit concerned. “Let’s,” he simply said, a certain edge to his voice. Perhaps he wasn’t as undaunted as his façade led to believe.

Leaf nodded and herded us to the right door and produced a key. As he went through the trouble of unlocking it, I ran various scenarios as to what could be found behind the door: was it going to be something from a horror novel, with a collection of sharp instruments of various shapes and sizes, all coated with blood? Or perhaps there would be something more exotic, such as a bubbling cauldron, vials and jars filled with mystifying liquids; something akin to an addled alchemist or chemist.

The door unlocked with a sharp click, and Leaf pushed it open to reveal…

…a very unremarkable study, with papers lying discarded methodically on a dust-caked desk and filled book shelves lining the walls. The only thing that looked out of place was this large, greenish sealed bag that reminded me very much of baked dough. In fact, besides the dankness, the green bag and the dust, Lyra’s study was comparable to my own, albeit more orderly.

I mentally scolded myself for having even considered those ridiculous scenarios. To be fair, I suspected that the juice from earlier must’ve had some effect on my anxiety.

Leaf groaned at the moldy odors present. “Dangit, must be a loose tile if there’s this much humidity in here.”

“Is it a problem?” Iron queried, still focused on the issue of the home.

“Naw,” the earth pony replied, shaking his head. “The roofing’s pretty easy to fix up, and it don’t happen too often to become irritating. It’s a nuisance when it happens, but it ain’t no big deal.”

While my father nodded comprehensively, Dew’s gaze was fixated on the green bag that was by the far wall. “What is that?”

“The beanbag? It’s a weird chair that’s surprisingly comfy,” Leaf explained. “Apparently, it’s something that humans used.”

I quickly jumped on that: “Wait, didn’t the barrier destroy everything of the humans’ world?”

“Lyra had it made on our end of the barrier,” he clarified as he checked said beanbag thoroughly. “I’m surprised that whoever made this didn’t think of making more of ‘em. It’s really comfortable, more so than a cushion or stool: I saw Lyra lie on it sometimes when she didn’t feel like sitting.”

While an image of a pony lying on the bag formed in my head I did rapidly consider the possible reasons as to why no other beanbag chairs were made. A voice quickly reminded me the obvious: Lyra was an outcast. Clearly getting an order to make such a weird piece of furniture would immediately limit the number of craftsponies willing to do it, and then knowing that it was requested by a supposed traitor… well, I believed that the better question was just how Lyra was able to get someone to fill the order. Perhaps she still had some pull even with her position and title stripped.

“Looks like the chair’s clean,” Leaf declared once he finished inspecting the beanbag. “Was worried that there might’ve been a mold growing on it, what with it bein’ covered in fabric and all.”

“The room does need some sprucing up,” Dew observed, noting the clear hoofprints on the filthy wooden floor.

“As I’ve said, nopony’s been here for a month or so,” the Seaddle stallion retorted as he scanned the bookshelves. “When Lyra became bedridden, there was no use for the study. She specifically told me not to bother with cleaning it and to just lock it up.”

It looked as if the mantis green mare was about to object when Iron shot her a look and shook his head. It went unnoticed by Leaf but I did manage to catch it and piqued my curiosity. Just what did Iron convey with that gesture?

My inner musing was interrupted by an abrupt ‘aha!’ from Leaf, who picked out a hardcover tome with a fungal growth on its spine. “Social Psychology of Equestriani,” he read the title out loud, “thank goodness that it ain’t one of her own books.”

My ears flicked to attention at that: Lyra was an author? “Lyra’s got published works?”

“Huh?” Leaf uttered, his face contorted in confusion before his eyes lit up in understanding. “Ah, no. She didn’t write professionally. Never got anything published. I doubt that if she had published something it would’ve been on everypony’s bookshelf.”

“Thank Celestia that she didn’t,” I heard my dad mumble.

I ignored the stallion’s admittedly justified comment and focused on the bookshelves. I noticed that while there were the classical hardcover prints, these were accompanied by a series of leaflets and novel-sized manuscripts bound together in bits of strings. A quick gloss over at the first page of the ‘book’ at the end of the shelf showed that the words were indeed written and not printed like those in the hardcover books.

I did consider taking a closer look at my grandmother’s works, but with my parents watching me and my outburst still fresh in mind I kept myself to simply observing the papers from afar.

“Well then,” the house curator piped up as he set the moldy tome apart from the others, “as you can see it needs some work, but with the desk gone you could put a small bed here.”

“Maybe,” Iron muttered, drawing out the word while he considered Leaf’s opinion. “It would still be very cramped though, I think that the beanbag needs to go elsewhere to make more room.”

Leaf shrugged. “It’s your house now, you decide what to do with it. Up for seeing the bedroom?”

“Yes, I think we’ve seen enough here. Lead on.” Iron waved Leaf on.

I gave a last look to the rows of manuscripts, somewhat disappointed that I couldn’t read them for the time being, before turning to leave.

The hoof-falls resounded in the hallway along with the creaking wood as we made our way to the other end of the corridor. This door, unlike its opposite, needed no unlocking and led to a noticeably cleaner and brighter bedroom. The skylight wrapped the ivory double bed in light, further illuminating what light entered via the patio door. Already from the entrance I could catch a glimpse of what the balcony view offered: an horizon of southern Equestria. Unlike the study the bedroom was mostly empty, a feeling accentuated by the larger size, only populated by a long low wooden cabinet (aside from the bed).

On this cabinet were a number framed pictures, mostly of a younger Lyra, alone or with ponies whom I didn’t recognize.

…except for one:

It was a jaded photograph that depicted two unicorn mares sharing a drink. I immediately recognized the mint green pony as Lyra who was laughing heartily with the other which was—

My mind did a backflip as I realized who Lyra’s companion was: the Bearer of Magic, Twilight Sparkle, was laughing back along with Lyra.

This wasn’t just a picture of the sort where a big time celebrity posed with a stranger just for the sake of bragging rights (as some friends from Canterlot of mine had). No, it was clear that at one point my grandmother and the Element of Magic were friends, and judging by their appearances they must’ve been in their teens, perhaps a bit younger than I was. Did their friendship go all the way back to foalhood? Did Lyra’s misdemeanor end it, or did they still see each other even after she was ostracized?

So many questions went by unanswered as Leaf presented the bedroom to my parents. I didn’t pay any mind to them as all of my focus was on uncovering the mystery posed by the framed photograph with the picture itself being the only clue. I reflected on the chance that it was a fake, but that theory was soon disproved when I checked the back where there was a written message.

Thanks for being a great friend through school!
Hugs, Twilight Sparkle

I found myself staring at the signature in disbelief: it was nearly identical to the one I had seen in a science article back in PRPI. Granted this autograph lacked the smooth lines that composed the other one in the article, but that was easily explained by age refining it. Even still my mind was reeling at this revelation. Now I really wished that I had a chance to talk with my grandmother.

Leaf and my parents came back into the bedroom after taking in the patio, indifferent to the fact that I hadn’t come along with them. “And that’s pretty much all I’ve got to show ya here,” Leaf exclaimed.

Mother looked pleased. “I’m impressed: it’ll make a wonderful summer home.”

Iron, on the other hoof, looked less than convinced. “The house is fine,” he admitted, turning to face Leaf, “but I’m still on the fence with it. What did you two do for food and other supplies?”

“We just shopped at the village,” the stallion explained, “there’s all kinds of stores in the village East of here.”

“With good prices?”

Leaf pouted pensively. “I’d say reasonable. Ya know, if yer curious about that I can take you there and show how it is.”

The blue unicorn gave him an inquisitive look. “It isn’t far I take it?”

“Not at all, it’s even shorter of a walk than the one we had earlier.”

Dew and Iron exchanged gazes, gesturing each other with quick nods as Dew replied, “It’ll be nice to see how the people here are and, if Delgate is anything similar, I know that the island will be a thing of beauty.”

I shifted uncomfortably as I gave a sheepish cough. “I uh, would like to stay here,” I mumbled once I got their attention. “Some of those books looked relevant to what I’m working on, so I’d prefer to stay here for the moment.”

My mother looked dismayed at the thought of leaving me in the home of the disliked Lyra. “Staying here? Cooked up in this old place?” she objected. “It’s a beautiful day outside, and you’d prefer to stay in here?”

Iron stared silently, unwilling to say anything against me, but still clearly in opposition of my idea. Only Leaf spoke up. “Come on Dew,” he referred to my mother casually, “Crystal’s a grown stallion, he’s free to make his own choices.”

Dew turned to Leaf with great disdain. “But we wouldn’t want to impose…” she let her words hang when Leaf raised his hoof.

“As I’ve already told you, this is not my house; it’s yers. Whatever you do with it is none of my concern.”

The mare stumbled on her words, mouth agape in search for a rebuttal. She turned to her husband. “Iron, tell Crystal that he should come along!”

For his part, dad mulled over the situation silently, occasionally glancing at me. I gazed back with pleading eyes. After a long moment he sighed.

“Leaf’s right,” he finally said, “he’s an adult now. He can do what he wants.”

“But—” Dew blabbered, taken aback from Iron’s response, before finally groaning in defeat and nudging him to go downstairs.

I felt a bit of relief at the prospect of having some time alone to think and read; especially after the regretful debacle with my parents, I needed the time to wind down a bit.

“Alrighty!” Leaf exclaimed. “I’ll meet with y’all in the front porch, I’ll be with you after I tell Crystal what’s what.”

My parents left the bedroom mutely, with Iron whispering ‘I hope you know what you’re doing’ to me as he passed by. Great, he wouldn’t let this one go for a while as well.

With my parents gone, Leaf came to my side, a warm smile plastered on his muzzle. “You can take care of yourself right?” he first asked as he led me out into the corridor.

“Of course I can, I’ve been living three years by myself in Pinto.”

He nodded confidently. “Alright, just makin’ sure,” he clarified. “Anything you need to eat or drink you can find it in the kitchen. Just make sure you don’t burn the house down.” The stallion chuckled heartily at his witty recommendation as we went past the staircase and towards the study.

I blinked in confusion: wasn’t he going downstairs with my parents?

We entered the study again, Leaf’s appearance suddenly turning solemn. “Guess that this is the best chance that we’re gonna get,” he mumbled to himself as he went to the desk and opened a drawer. From it he picked up a strongbox and a key.

I eyed the object with a questioning eye: it was nothing particularly remarkable, besides it being clearly old, with rust spots plaguing the lock and key. “What’s this?”

“Your inheritance,” Leaf replied as he offered it to me. I blinked once more: Lyra left something for me?

“Wha-what?” I erred, trying to make sense of the locked strongbox. “Why didn’t you give this to me earlier?”

“Because Lyra specifically told me that neither one of your parents should know about it.” He shrugged, “I don’t know what it is, nor do I want to. It’s none of my business and I don’t pry into other people’s affairs.”

I examined the box with more attention, gingerly rattling it to hear the contents clatter inside; sounded like there were multiple objects inside, perhaps made of metal or some other similar material. I couldn’t gather much of anything else however.

“Whatever it is,” Leaf added, giving me a firm look right in the eyes, “be careful with it. I know Lyra well enough to trust her on this one, but she has kept secrets from me, that being one of them.”

He gave a playful punch, his attitude lighthearted again. “Alrighty Crys, you take good care now.” And with that Leaf left me alone in the study with the puzzling box in my grip.

What just happened?

Honestly I couldn’t make much sense out of what occurred, it just went by too fast for me to really have a moment to take it all in. I apparently held something possibly dangerous intended for me, left by an ostracized mare who may or may not have held a grudge against her own family. I dismissed the possible implications for that, mainly because I didn’t want to think about them.

Once more I took a closer look at the rusting strongbox, half expecting it to open by itself. I lifted the corroding key, which was a simple skeleton key, feeling the weight and shape of it. It felt as if I was weighing a spear which, if handled improperly, could kill me. I gulped, again alluding to things that I didn’t really want to think about.

I heard the echo of a door slam from downstairs, signaling that I was well and truly alone now. If anything were to happen to me I wouldn’t have anyone to help me out if need be. The safest route was to simply leave the box be and never open it. But if I were to do that the ‘what ifs’ would eat at me, prodding, tempting me to do so.

It was clear even then that the only reasonable path to take was to simply give into my curiosity and see for myself what Lyra left me. So, I levitated the key and slid it into the warded lock. It was a perfect fit as expected, and with a gentle twist of the key, all of the tumblers moved in sync and produced a satisfying click. Whatever was inside was now accessible.

I took a deep breath to brace for whatever might’ve been inside the strongbox as the door opened, creaking in protest.

What lay before me left me baffled: there were these strange, metallic (or crystal? I couldn’t tell) spheres, that gave off a bizarre reddish aura, the light on the surfaces… moved, as if clouds or a sort of fog was in the surface reflection, blocking some of it and continually moved, always giving off different reflections.

I was at a complete loss to understand what exactly these spheres —no, orbs— were supposed to be or do. They were clearly magical in nature but their purpose escaped me, my mind drawing a blank as it was mesmerized by the shifting lights.

I quickly shook my head in an effort to focus, partly because I was also afraid that it was possibly dangerous to stare at the orbs for too long, and because I noticed an enveloped letter tucked by one of the sides. I took it out and hastily closed the door of the box, afraid that it would all blow up in my face if I left it open for too long. With no signs of an impending explosion I sighed in relief, and took out the letter from the envelope and read it.

Dear Crystal Clear,

By the time you read this I’ll be dead, hopefully not by the hand of another. I know that you have many questions, both about me and these orbs, but I know that you would find yourself hard-pressed believing anything that I write here.

So I have decided to do what few others would do willingly: I’m offering you an insight to my memories.

I have made no alteration to any of them besides showing you only the pertinent memories; these are otherwise unchanged from what I personally experienced. My memories will hopefully explain everything that you need to know, about the barrier, about the humans, about the Crown’s deeds, everything.

You might be asking why you, why I chose to give you my memories. The answer is fairly simple: I don’t want the truth to die with me. I’m eighty seven years old as I’m writing this and I know that I am not going to live for much longer; anyone else who knows the truth but isn’t with the Crown is either dead or missing.

And I know you’re interested in humans Crystal, probably as much as I was. You’re probably the only pony who’d know what to do with these memories of mine. I trust you will do the right thing grandson.

The memory orbs are all arranged in chronological order, the right one farthest from you is the first one, and the rest are placed accordingly in the same order as reading. Each orb has several different memories cut into different pieces, similar to how scenes are in movies, and you can access each ‘scene’ by simply manipulating the orb’s sections like you would with polypuzzle. Of course, you can only do this with your magic so as to avoid accidentally accessing a memory when you don’t need to.

Remember to do this only when you are alone and when nobody else can interrupt it. The process is very intensive on the mind: everything will seem very lifelike and you will spend anywhere from a few minutes to hours experiencing a memory. And as Leaf has likely told you, don’t let my son or his wife know about these orbs. I love them both with all of my heart but they wouldn’t react well. I hate keeping secrets, especially from close relatives and friends like Leaf or your parents, but discretion is the only way to keep this from falling into the wrong hands.

One last thing: don’t delve into the memories too often. Space each experience by a few hours at least. These magical artifacts still carry unknown effects and I wouldn’t want anything bad happen to you.

Even though you might not know me, I know you, and I love you as much as my son. I only wish we had spent some time together after I last saw you when you were but a foal.

Celestia willing you will understand everything and forgive me and everyone else for what we have done; what we all did.

I am so sorry Crystal.

Your loving grandmother,
Lyra Heartstrings

A mix of emotions flowed in me as I finished reading the note: I felt saddened, elated, angered, but most of all, confused. The words that my grandmother left me only brought up more questions while answering fewer still. I now wielded the truth? Why did she imply that she might’ve been murdered? What did she mean by my parents reacting badly? What was it with those odd word choice, such as using hands instead of hooves or nobody instead of nopony? Why was she begging me for forgiveness, on her part and apparently for the actions of others? As far as I was concerned she was the only who would be asking for forgiveness seeing as she was the one banished. Did that mean that there were others?I rubbed my forehead just under the mane line, my head abuzz with questions and riddles which wouldn’t resolve themselves. Stopping for a moment to think, I considered the off chance that secretly Lyra had in fact gone completely lame when she wrote this. What I had read felt too much as if it had been written by a conspiracy nut (of which I had the displeasure of meeting a few).

And yet…

It felt very honest. A part of me scoffed at the notion of being capable of recognizing the tone just by the writing, and another part reminded me that I had never formally met Lyra nor knew how she behaved; all I had were others’ accounts that gave me mixed messages: some claimed that the unicorn was nothing but a madmare and traitor, while others viewed her as a wonderful person to be around with.

So the question is, I thought to myself, who is right about this girl?

It was an answer that seemed impossible to attain, seeing how the pony in question was dead and there were conflicting opinions on her. But then came a fleeting thought as my gaze fell on the strongbox containing the supposed memories of my grandmother:

Why not take a look? a small voice meekly asked.

Almost immediately I came up with various counterarguments: ‘it’s too dangerous’, ‘it could be a trap’, ‘what if the letter is fake?’, and ‘what if my parents did find out?’ being the better retorts.

…then again, this was an opportunity to learn; all I had to do was simply follow the instructions described in the note and all of these questions could go away. In fact, I could do this right now, seeing as I’d probably be alone for a while.

Yet I felt very apprehensive of having anything to do with those strange orbs. Memory orbs or not, they were nothing that I had ever seen, read or heard of before. What guarantee did I have that they were in fact her memories? As far as I knew these could kill me as soon as I tried to reach them via magic.

But what if they are really her memories? the voice from before countered, what if they’re real and you just discard them? You’ll never forgive yourself for trying to find out what they really are.

I gritted my teeth, my stare locked on the accursed little box, torn apart by indecision. I cursed at myself: I had never felt this hesitant before, and this sense of feeling helpless aggravated me to no end. Never once did I back down from a decision I took. As ponies around me would notice I was one who would defend my stance to the very last.

And then it dawned on me: didn’t Leaf mention that I was like Lyra in that respect? If that was true, then she was just as much of a debater as I was, and like any good debater, I’d at least allow her to speak her mind instead of simply dismissing it—that was just poor tact and disrespectful. If I truly was that, then I’d give her the benefit of the doubt and do as she instructed to see her side of things. This would be beyond just putting on another’s horseshoes if it was true, I’d actually experience what my grandmother experienced.

If it’s true, the cynic in me recalled; if the letter wasn’t a hoax; if the memories weren’t doctored.

If, if, if. Too many ifs for my comfort. But then again I knew that if I just let this lie the dread of having missed the opportunity of a lifetime would eat at me; I would probably give into this itch to know eventually, not knowing would be the death of me.

With everything put into perspective, it did make more sense to just try doing as the letter indicated and get it over with. Besides, I seriously doubted that a dead mare would have a thing against me specifically. Not only did I not know her, but I was family—she wouldn’t harm a stranger, let alone a relative. Right?

I took a slow and deep breath, as the hinges of the strongbox groaned once more. There were those fabled memory orbs, magical artifacts of an unknown nature, and I was going to use them on the word of a pony who was made into something of a nonperson. Hearing the amount of voices against the idea was almost deafening.

Regardless of the second thoughts and I concentrated on the orb that Lyra had indicated to pick first. When it slowly lifted upwards, engulfed in a blue-green aura, I realized that I had been holding my breath—I guess that the anxiety was getting the better of me.

As I mentally felt the orb, I immediately found the various sections that were, as Lyra had written, in a similar format of a polypuzzle. The top piece, being the smallest, would be the first one that had to be manipulated: that’s how a polypuzzle worked—you started with the smallest section, and the next one would reveal itself, which would then have to be manipulated to find the next one and so on and so forth. If these memory orbs were similar to the popular unicorn toy, then it stood to reason that they worked in the same manner.

I delicately shifted the moveable part clockwise, slow and steady, searching for any signs of the artifact’s activation.

Click

No sooner after locking the piece in the correct spot, the orb shook violently and grew increasingly bright at an impossibly fast rate. The light overwhelmed the room’s natural light so quickly that I had barely any time to even think of reacting.

Barely two words formed in my mind before I passed out:

Oh horseapp—

Soft notes enriched the living room, the soothing music a means to ease the tense atmosphere into a more relaxed one. It worked, though not for the reason I had hoped for: focusing on the strums of the lyre helped forget (if temporarily) what was happening outside of the house.

It was saddening to learn that the near-lullaby quality of my latest composition failed to pacify, but at least I was glad enough that the only thing that mattered at the moment was my musical instrument. The tune was so well inscribed in my head that I played it eyes closed.

D, E, G A, B

The strings’ twangs and plunks had proven to be quite the crowd pleaser, usually a harmonious composition meant to loosen the minds of ponies, especially those of newfoals. However only the act of playing the lyre brought ease in this case; very disappointing in retrospect.

D E G A, B

Even though the music was the dominant sound in the room, harried hoofsteps and stomps sneaked in through the open windows. It had been several hours already, and ponies were still panicking; not as much, but enough to warrant a large number of worriers stirring up the town.

D, E, G, A B, d—

The front door swung with immense force, slamming against the wall and snapping me out of my musical trance. I blinked in surprise to see a cream-coated mare, with piercing blue eyes and dark blue mane with pink highlights, trot in, a restless look plastered on her muzzle.

“I can’t believe that someone would want a delivery done with everything that’s going on outside,” she breathed, not really directing her frustration towards my way. The earth pony turned to finally notice me. “Oh! Lyra—you’re back already?”

I mentally rolled my eyes at the somewhat dumb question: hadn’t she seen what had been happening?

“As soon as the shakes started I went straight back home,” I explained. “You’d be surprised how often things take priority over dating a stallion, Bon Bon.”

She shot me a curious look. “You left Evening Star to fend for himself?”

“No, he left me to fend for myself,” I corrected, “he bolted at the first sign of trouble. I gotta say, if I weren’t so concerned of the tremors, I would’ve been impressed by his speed.”

“And you came back here… to play with your lyre?” Bon Bon asked, unsure of what I was doing before she came in.

“I panicked!” I said defensively. “I don’t know what else could calm me down! What with Twilight and her friends gone since it began, I just couldn—”

My roommate interrupted my tirade: “Wait, wait, wait; what’s this with Twilight being gone?”

“Like I said, I was panicking,” I repeated, “but not so much that I didn’t realize that Twilight probably knew what was happening. So I went over to the library, but only Spike was there. He told me that not long after the start of the shakes, they’d received a letter from the Princess requesting Twilight and her friends’ presence back in Canterlot.”

“And they haven’t come back yet?”

I shook my head in deject; it had been already hours since they were gone, and while the tremors stopped long ago, the sky was still a strange purple-pink tint. It vaguely reminded me of the barrier that engulfed Canterlot during the wedding month ago. It was obvious, however, that whatever was happening now wasn’t a shield: it was simply too big for it to have been cast by anypony. Perhaps the Princesses were powerful enough to do so, but then it wouldn’t explain the quakes, that flash of light or why the sun was suddenly in a completely different spot.

Bon Bon visibly paled at my response. She was reacting similarly as I had when I was given the same bit of news. “W-wha– what do we do?”

I began to play the tune on the lyre again as I thought what to tell my roommate. “Ponyville has been through some pretty bad times and Twilight always pulled through with her friends,” I said to her (as well as to myself) reassuringly. “We just gotta wait it out like we did the other times.”

The cream-colored pony looked crestfallen and cast her gaze on the floor. “I know, I just feel so helpless with everything happening outside.”

I offered her an understanding look: “What else can we do? Just try to relax.”

She nodded and began to say something when the door shook from forceful knocking. Bon Bon turned to face the door, then to me, her eyes conveying a simple question: ‘should I open?’ To that I nodded in spite of my better judgment. What if there were looters? I hadn’t seen any destroyed shops or ransacked homes, but with the panic going on outside there could very well have been some burglars running about.

The earth pony opened the door only to be faced by two stone-faced pegasi wearing golden armor. Royal Guards, I recognized, now more interested in our visitors rather than my lyre.

One of the two guards, the one on the left, spoke up with a strong air of authority. “Is there a Miss Heartstrings here?” he demanded. Bon Bon seemed so taken aback by the presence of the Guard at our doorstep that she stumbled with a response. Unsatisfied with the lack of a reply, the stark white pegasus looked beyond the mare in front, spotting me.

“Miss Heartstrings?” he called out to me in the same demanding tone as before.

A lump formed in my throat; what did they want with me? “Yes?” I answered meekly, putting my string instrument away and cautiously approaching the two armored stallions.

“Princess Celestia has requested your presence,” the other guard affirmed, his solid stare unwavering, “we are to escort you to Canterlot.”

I found myself staggered, enough to nearly forget to voice my questions over this: “W-wha– why? Why would the Princess want me to come?”

“I’m afraid that’s classified, miss,” the first guard replied, shifting his eyes towards Bon Bon. “The Princess has insisted for your presence, so we’d best make haste.”

“I—”

“Just go,” a voice behind me said; Bon Bon looked on with an encouraging smile.

“Bonnie…” I began before she silenced me with a hoof.

“Looks like you get your chance to do something this one time,” she said somberly, with a slight hint of envy in her voice, “go on, I’ll take care of things here.”

“Are you sure?” I didn’t want to leave her alone with how things were then, it felt almost unfair to do so, seeing as how I’d be in what was probably the safest place in Equestria right there and then. “Please, can’t my friend come along?” I asked pleadingly to the closest guard.

Neither his blank face nor his deadpan voice betrayed any pity: “No can do, ma’am. We’re here for you and you only. Princess’s orders.”

I was about to protest when the cream-coated mare nudged me with a tap of her hoof. She waved on with that same cheering beam: “Go on, I’ll be fine. Heck, you might actually help save Equestria while you’re in Canterlot.”

We both scoffed at the silly idea, both quite certain that I would do no such thing. Imagine me, standing side by side with the Elements and the Princesses, solving together whatever was causing all of this chaos. I dispelled the outrageous thought and focused on my goodbye.

Bon Bon and I embraced each other. She whispered, “Come back safe. You hear me?”

“I hear you Bonnie. I’ll be back ‘fore you know it.”

We broke the hold and I turned back to the two pegasi patiently waiting for my go-ahead. “Should I bring anything with me?” I solicited to them.

“There’s no need. Everything will be provided by the Crown for you.”

I nodded and took one last look back in the living room. Bon Bon beamed and gave a knowing nod of her own. With one last deep breath, I finally told the guards, “Alright, let’s go.”

The trip to Canterlot was a fast one, ensured by the guards’ fast pace, but in that time I was able to make some further deductions of the events unfolding back in Ponyville: for one thing, the strange purple taint that colored the normally blue skies wasn’t something that was restricted to the small town. The capital and the surrounding valley were also suffering from the same strange phenomenon, ruling out the possibility that it was an artificial construct; the revelation was not very comforting.

As we zoomed at breakneck speeds, I tried to pry some more information from my escorts. The most that I could get out of them was that I was requested for my ‘special expertise’ as they put it, without specifying what that was exactly. I seriously doubted that the Princess wanted me for my musical talents. Pressing them on what exactly was expected of me or what was happening proved fruitless, as they would just clamp up and not say a word when I tried. Whether they did that because they couldn’t tell or because they didn’t know, I couldn’t tell. If there was one thing that Guard was well known for was its members’ dead-set look that hinted little in the way of emotions.

We bypassed the Canterlot districts, heading straight to the Royal Palace and landed in the main courtyard. It was organized chaos: civil servants rushed to and fro with hurry, but in a far more orderly manner than one would expect in a moment of crisis, and there was a strong presence of the Guard all around. I was handed a visitor badge by one of the servants who greeted me upon landing, and then quickly ushered into the palace proper by another guard. He navigated me through twisting and crowded corridors hurriedly, not allowing me to appreciate the decorative tapestries and windows that lined the hallways.

Eventually I found myself staring at a large set of ornate doors under guard by two heavily armored unicorns. My escort flashed them his own badge, and with one quick look at mine, the two guards led us in through the double doors. What awaited for us behind the doors was something of a familiar sight: the throne room. It seemed to lack the same splendor as it had when it hosted the wedding a few months back, although it had a sense of vastness that it didn’t have the last time, probably due to how few people were inside this time.

“Presenting Lyra Heartstrings!” one of the guards announced, his voice silencing every conversation that took place in the grand hall.

All eyes fell on me and I suddenly felt very small. By the base of the thrones was a group of ponies with two towering figures watching over towards me: the royal princesses.

I instantly bowed in respect, snout almost touching the marble floor. I held the pose, waiting for Celestia’s silken voice to say ‘rise, my little pony’, only to have a different voice greet me:

“Lyra!”

Etiquette temporarily set aside, I brought my head up to see an unexpected but still familiar face. Lavender eyes greeted my gaze as I arose. I beamed at the sight: “Heya Twilight!”

My old school colleague trotted over and gave me a friendly hug, giving me the time to take in the faces of her fellow bearers coming up to welcome me. We exchanged some quick pleasantries before I faced Twilight. “So,” I began, adopting a more serious tone, “what’s going on? We’re completely in the dark back in Ponyville, and you know how people there react well to strange events.”

She began to respond, but a strong voice called out.

“So this is the expert that you’ve been talking about, Sparkle?” it called. Looking over I spotted an approaching stallion. Gawky-looking, he had a scholarly look, mostly thanks to the sharp grey eyes behind his thick-rimmed glasses. On his flanks was his odd cutie mark that reminded me of a blurred pony silhouette. He looked half-way between being amused and annoyed at my appearance. Just who was this deep auburn earth pony?

“Ah, yes professor,” Twilight quickly recovered, “she’s probably as knowledgeable as you are with what we’re dealing with.”

This ‘professor’ took a precursory look at me, his cold stare paralyzing me into compliant silence. “I don’t recall hearing about you, miss…?”

It took me a moment to pick up on his request, and even then I stumbled with a response. “L-Lyra. Lyra Heartstrings.” I offered the stallion a hoof.

He took it apprehensively. “Professor Presumptive Belief, at your service.”

My jaws slackened at the introduction. “The Professor Belief?” I asked incredulously, almost squealing with glee, “the author of the Cryptozoology: Equestriani Rationalizations series?”

“As well as co-writer of Scientific Discoveries—Terrible Lizards and head of the Manehattan Society of Cryptozoology,” the scholar added, his demeanor growing friendlier. “It’s always a pleasure to meet a fellow researcher.”

My grin fell at his assumption. What did he mean by that? “I uh, I’m not a researcher,” I admitted. “I’m actually a musician.”

The cryptozoologist’s brow rose, more so out of amusement than of confusion. His sideways glance towards the lavender unicorn prompted an explanation from her.

“Well,” Twilight began, “she’s right. Lyra’s more of an aficionado than an actual researcher. Still I do think that her insight will be very helpful.”

Belief’s eyes gauged my admittedly lost expression. “Hm. It wouldn’t be surprising if you know as much as I do if you’re an avid reader of my work. There just isn’t much that can be gathered about them.”

“’Them’?” I blurted out, shaking my head in frustration. “I’m sorry, but what’s going on here? I’ve been scared witless for the first few hours after whatever happened, and then I’m suddenly requested by the Princess herself to do something that nopony’s bothered to explain to me!”

A blur of pink hopped up at my side, catching me off guard when an acquainted party planner giggled at my aggravated tone. “Why, you of all ponies should know what we’re talking about!” Pinkie stated with her bubbly attitude, placing her forehoof around my neck and pulling me at her side while waving her left hoof theatrically to create a sense of mysterious wonder.

“Outside the barrier,” she said dramatically, “there are humans—humans everywhere!”

The Heavenly Descent

A number of questions cropped up as Pinkie's words reverberated in my mind: did she say humans? As in, the mythological race of bipeds, of which much was unknown besides their magical inertness and technological prowess? And was she referring to the pinkish taint as a barrier of sorts? Any one of these would have been a solid basis to make a response.

That is, if I weren't so distracted by the mare's antics.

“Barrier... humans—wha?”

“Pinkie, dear,” interjected the white unicorn of the group, “if you don't start from the beginning, you'll just confuse the poor girl even more.”

“But that would be so normal!” the pink pony moaned childishly. “It's like what they say: abnormal times call for abnormal behavior!” Her grin fell slightly. “Or something like that.”

An irritated sigh echoed in the group. “That’s Pinkie for ya,” a certain rainbow-maned pegasus commented dryly with a roll of the eyes.

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply to collect myself. “Alright.” I exhaled. “Let’s start with this: what was that blinding light and tremors that we all saw and felt?”

To this, the majestic presence of Princess Celestia grew all the more prominent, along with that of her younger sibling Luna. “I believe that that,” she responded, a knowing smile on her muzzle, “is something that I can explain.”

I automatically bowed my head, but the regal alicorn waved a hoof to that. “Please, there’s no need to follow formalities in times like these.” Looking up at her, I only then noticed that she looked remarkably tired: her normally splendid ethereal mane appeared notably still with some individual hairs standing out rebelliously and her weary eyes bore dark bags underneath them. Luna as well appeared as exhausted as her sister with similar symptoms. Yet despite these worrying signs of stress, they both maintained a nonchalant disposition.

“As for the event,” the Sun Princess began, “while we’re still unsure as to its cause, we can safely say that we have been moved. Those lights and tremors were a consequence of that process.”

My brow furrowed—moved?

The midnight-blue alicorn picked up on my expression and clarified: “Our veritable Principality of Equestria has shifted into a different reality. A large portion of the continent is now in an entirely different world.”

It took a few moments to process the royal mare’s words before my knees shook in horrified revelation and my eyes became as wide as saucers. It was only by sheer will that I didn’t simply fall on my haunches, reduced to a hyperventilating mess. “D-di-different world?” I croaked.

Both princesses nodded in unison. “B-but, what about everypony else?” I weakly asked, “what about Gryphony? Or-or Saddle Arabia? Or the Crystal–”

As my words fell, looks on everyone’s faces and their silence proved to be enough of an answer. We are alone, they wordlessly communicated.

And all of the peoples —Ponies, Zebras, Dragons, Griffons, and many more— from our world, without either princess to control the day and night cycles they were all...

...doomed to a horrid death, a thought grimly finished for me.

My body quivered and my breath quickened - I would have collapsed right there and then had it not been for the timely embrace on Twilight’s part. She said nothing, no reassuring whispers were made to coo me. They proved to be unnecessary; all it took to calm me was the comfort that the hug provided.

After a few deep, albeit shaky, breaths, I returned the hug to my foalhood friend. “Thanks.”

“What are friends for?” she said encouragingly, cracking an affable smile. “I know how it feels.” The lavender mare gestured to her friends and the regal alicorns. “We all were devastated when it became clear what happened to everypony back home. But we need to focus on what is happening now, as the rules have changed.”

I nodded anxiously, taking in the mood of those around me. “Okay, what about the...” I paused as I searched for the word, “‘barrier’, was it?”

Quite suddenly, Celestia’s visage grew unusually cold, her violet eyes hard with a certain animosity in previously unseen quantities. “It’s magical,” she said with a deadpan tone, “but we cannot manipulate it, let alone control it.

“We are not yet sure as to how it came to be, however,” her eyes fell on the Bearers, “we have a fair idea as to who was responsible for it.”

At the mention of a perpetrator, the pink-maned pegasus of the group looked dejectedly towards the floor with teary eyes. In a quiet voice, she mumbled to herself.

Applejack patted her in a show of support. “It’s not yer fault,” she stated firmly to her winged friend, “who could’a guessed what he’d have done once we caught ‘im?”

What he would have done? Just who was the farmer referring to?

Fluttershy’s gaze remained downcast, the tears slowly rolling down her canary-yellow muzzle. “But he promised,” she whispered audibly, her voice wavering with distraught. “He promised that he wouldn’t do it for evil. He promised me—he promised you, princess!”

The sun diarch’s expression grew solemn. “He did,” she said softly. “I had made a mistake in placing faith in Disord.”

“Discord?” My eyes shot open in alarm. “What happened?”

“Discord happened,” Rainbow Dash replied sourly. “That no-good spirit bucked us when we least expected it.”

Seeing my puzzled eyes, Princess Celestia clarified: “You might recall the day he returned to Ponyville.” After I nodded apprehensively, she said, “He made us a promise: he would never again create chaos for the sake of it. While we were wary of it, Fluttershy convinced us that he would have kept his word.But—”

She stopped short when the faint sounds of whimpering were heard. Tears were shed anew from Fluttershy’s eyes. Almost immediately came the soft reassurances from Rarity and Applejack. The Cloudsdale pony shook her head in self-deprecation, muttering and murmuring something repeatedly. All I managed to understand was one word: sorry.

Despite the clamour from outside, the throne room felt very still. I had to repress a shudder. “It’s not your fault,” I said thoughtlessly. That caught the pink-maned pegasus’ attention. Uh, oh, what should I say? “I, ah, don’t know Discord like you obviously do, but from what I’ve seen,” —and experienced, I mentally added— “he’s devious. He would make fake promises seem convincing.” I gestured to the entire group. “I mean, if everypony here gave him the benefit of the doubt, it only really speaks his charms. Everypony was duped, not just you. Don’t beat yourself up for it.”

The other pegasus scowled, probably offended by the thought that she was duped by Discord—I was afraid of that; I really hadn’t thought through my little encouragement speech there. Just another thing that my Cutie Mark could never represent.

Everyone else, however, smiled gratefully when their friend’s sniffling diminished. “Th-thank you, Lyra,” Fluttershy managed. She breathed deeply before looking at Princess Celestia. “Um, sorry if I interrupted,” she said diminutively. “Go on. That is...” She reverted back to mumbling again, but at least she wasn’t crying anymore.

Celestia only beamed warmly. “It’s alright, Fluttershy. But yes,” she turned back to me. “As I was saying—he began channeling something, here in the gardens. I summoned the Elements, but—” The alicorn turned her head away.

The hairs of my coat tingled. “But?” I prodded, gulping.

“We were too late, that’s what,” piped up the cowpony, grimacing. “Discord went an’ did his channelin’ doo-hickey.”

“And we were ‘moved’, right?” A collection of agreements—that’s the whole and short of it. “What about Discord?”

“That demon has been sealed away.” The night princess snorted. “For good, this time.” I did wonder how they had achieved that, but I said nothing; no point in asking about that now.

“And we’re in a world of humans?” I asked with a certain amount of apprehension in my voice. The possibility of this whole day being just a dream was unlikely, but it was still a possibility.

“Yep!” Pinkie replied cheerily. “We’re surrounded! Humies everywhere!”

Twilight shot a chastising stare at her pink friend. “We’re not ‘surrounded’,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone (she used that tone a lot), “Manehattan is a stone throw away from land, and we’ve seen what appear to be humans.” She gestured towards Presumptive, who had been quiet the entire time. “Show her.”

The stallion wrinkled his snout as he went over to a desk—a makeshift table in the throne room? How did I not notice it before? He beckoned me over. I obliged, walking, almost trotting really, over to the table littered in a mess of papers, scrolls and photographs. My eyes followed Presumptive’s indicating hoof and fell upon a photograph.

It was monochromatic and incredibly fuzzy, probably taken from a long distance. It showed a sailboat of alien make, light in colour with a great triangular sail and a smaller one on the—what was it called? A mast? It wasn’t huge, but it was definitely larger than the Equestriani equivalents that I’ve seen. Then I saw the occupants: two humans.

Actually, it was kind of difficult to tell if they were humans. They didn’t seem as muscular as they were usually depicted, though perhaps the vests over their chests hid the muscles. What struck me was their heads. Though unfocused and lacking in the finer detail, I could make out their eyes and general facial structure. From the angle this picture was taken, the humans were facing towards the photographer, but it was unclear if they were looking at him specifically.

Their eyes, small and comparable to a minotaur’s, were wide open, with tufts of dark hair arching parallel with their eyes. One of them had its mouth open as it pointed towards me with an appendage —a hand, I had to remind myself— even though it wasn’t doing so. The other had its lips slightly parted. If expressions carried across universes, then these two humans emoted in a manner startlingly similar to a pony.

Their expression aside, they looked very much alien: their foreheads were tall; their faces appeared long; they had a jutting chin and nose; their ears were diminutive things on the side of their heads as opposed to being on top; their faces looked considerably flat, but the angle didn’t make that very clear. And speaking of their faces, they lacked much in the way of hair. The one on the right, the one who was gaping, had hair growing along its jaw, and they both had tufts of hair (manes?) on top of their heads. Otherwise, they appeared much more ape-like than what I expected.

“This was taken from Statue Island in Manehattan,” Presumptive provided. “A professional photographer happened to be doing a photoshoot there when Equestria was moved.”

“These are humans?” He nodded. “But they look nothing like what I’ve read from your work.”

Presumptive’s neutral mask faltered, as he grimaced slightly. “Cryptozoology isn’t an exact science like magic or other fields, Miss Heartstrings,” he said with a sharp voice that only a lecturer would use, “assumptions must be made when dealing with extinct or mythical beings. My artistic renderings are based on descriptions found in—”

“...an ancient Minoatian script,” I finished for him, reciting the particular addendum which he was referring to. “I know, professor. But still, I expected different.” I turned back to the picture. “How can you be sure that these are humans? They could be something completely different.”

The professor shrugged. “I can’t,” he stated plainly. “However, if you look at this other photograph,” he pulled out another picture, “I think you’ll understand why I think that they are.”

This one was in colour, and the first thing that I thought was that a colour filter had been added as there was an abundance of purple-pink; it was indubitably the barrier. A white hoof was pointing towards the horizon, where a long, sleek looking…

What was it? It looked to be a good distance away, and the profile reminded me a bit that of a shark’s, sans dorsal fin or tail fins, with a protrusion on one of its ends. It was above the sea level, and had what looked to be many large boxes on the… back, I suppose? It took me a long moment to realize what it was.

“This is a ship?” I asked incredulously. “But it has no sails!”

Presumptive nodded again. “Nothing like you’ve ever seen before, hmm? And consider the distance and relative size of it. Witnesses say it was at least three leagues away.”

Three lea– that meant that the ship was several yards long! And those boxes on the back were no small thing either. To think that such a thing could move without the power of wind, that either meant there was an incredibly powerful spell propelling it, or it was powered by…

Machinery unlike anything we know, I realized. Humans were described as innovative engineers and mechanics. They might have looked different, but if this ship was a human invention, then the visual and physical differences were negligible: these were humans.

“Oh Celestia,” I muttered, almost quaking in my hooves. “I see your point, professor.” I looked back to the black-and-white photo. “This sailboat… it mustn’t have been far from the barrier. Did they try to cross over?”

Dead silence. I felt eyes from every single pony in the room on me. My ears folded back automatically—my tail flicked to one side nervously. “What?”

Nopony seemed to be able to speak, as if lumps had suddenly formed in their throats. Only the princesses did not carry that look. In its stead, their expressions were dark. “They did,” Celestia spoke slowly, drawing out the second word. “They… did not make it.”

“They were repulsed?” Made sense, most magic barriers were selectively permeable, allowing only certain things in and out while blocking everything else. But that’s clearly not the case, is it, Lyra? If it was, there wouldn’t be this air of deathly silence, of disgust, really. My eyes hardened with worry as I fixed a stare on Celestia. “They weren’t repulsed,” I said, more of a statement of fact than a question. A nod confirmed my suspicion. “Then what happened?”

Again, the princess spoke slowly: “They were… erased.” My heightened eyebrow made her add, “Erased from existence.”

My heart must have skipped a beat. They were killed? No barrier I knew of did that. But then why didn’t she simply say that it killed them?

As if she read my mind, Luna provided, “Their bodies broke as they made contact with the barrier. Nothing of them, or their boat, is left.”

My jaw slackened, as I stared agape at the Night Princess, disbelieving. I almost shook my head in denial. “N-nothing?” I asked meekly.

“Nothing,” Luna repeated firmly. She didn’t beat around the bush, unlike her sister. In a way, such forthrightness was admirable. In this case, I wasn’t sure if it was. “Discord’s deadly creation is unlike anything we know of.”

Her sister nodded in agreement. “Such properties have only been theorized, but never has anypony thought nor approved of applying them.”

“It’s despicable!” Twilight said with conviction, stamping a hoof for emphasis, “a crime against Magic itself!” Even in my horrified state, it was of no real surprise that she would think it so: she was the embodiment of Magic after all.

But the revelation as to the nature of the barrier compounded a question I had asked before: what good am I here? “Princess,” I began, “why did you summon me? I’m just a musician, and what I know of humans won’t do you much good if we cannot go to their world.”

“We could still observe from afar,” Presumptive offered, “but like Miss Heartstrings says, we would not be able garner much about them.”

Our considerations visibly sullied the princess, as she put on a thoughtful mask. To the side, Fluttershy had been tearing up again—probably since the mention of the humans’ demise. Rarity and Pinkie tried to cheer her up (especially Pinkie), but to no avail. Rainbow looked as if she wanted to do something. What exactly that something was, I suspected that even the pegasus was unsure of. Applejack kept a watchful eye on Dash, as if worried that that something would have gotten her friend into unnecessary trouble. Twilight appeared unsure of what to say, and looked to her mentor. She always did that when at a loss, ever since she was a filly.

A burst of noise: a courier barged into the throne room, her eyes wide and wings shaking from exhaustion. “Princess!” she breathed, adding a bow almost as an afterthought, “news from Commander Pyre!” At Celestia’s acknowledgement and after a quick breather, she said, “Metal islands have been spotted from the shore near the village of Hoofington, and ponies were trying to investigate them.”

That got everyone’s attention. Celestia’s coat somehow grew paler. “Didn’t the garrison commander receive my instructions to quarter off the shore?” she asked with an edge to her voice. Was that anger that I heard?

The magenta pegasus’ cheeks flushed. “I– the message arrived before Commander Pyre could do anything about it. Two earth ponies got out.”

Again, that turned heads, though not for the reason that anypony expected. “Got out?” Twilight parroted, confused.

The messenger nodded. “Yes. They were on a fishing boat, but they’ve been brought back into the safe zone. All fishing vessels from the village are in the harbour and accounted for.” Glances traded around in the group: this was a very revealing bit of news. But the courier added, “A wing or something, from the metal islands flew towards the barrier with great speed, only for it to disintegrate in front of our very eyes!”

I grimaced. Looking at the others, they all grimaced as well. “Those must be human ships,” Presumptive hypothesized, his tone worrisome, “and that flying thing must have been a machine of theirs. They must have wanted to explore Equestria or possibly greet us.”

“Ah hope none of ‘em were in that flyin’ machine...” Applejack shuddered. She wasn’t the only one.

In Celestia’s eyes, however, I spotted a glimmer. Looking over to Twilight, her eyes were lit up as well. “Are the ponies who went through the barrier well?”

The pegasus nodded again. “Yes, Princess. The two earth ponies are safe and healthy. The only thing that they felt was a tingling sensation when crossing over.”

“Very well, Express,” the alicorn said. “You’re dismissed.” The pegasus curtsied and briskly left. Celestia turned to both me and Presumptive. “There you have it,” she said with a smile, “an opportunity to prove yourselves.”

Presumptive said nothing, though he did frown slightly. I fumbled for an intelligible response. “What? But I’m—”

“A musician,” she said for me, “yes, and you have a skillset that may help us.” Celestia tilted her head and offered a mischievous smile. “How do you know when it is the best time to perform?”

“I gauge my audience,” I answered automatically. “If they are recep—” My eyes widened as I realized what she just did. Oh, clever. “I see,” I said, nodding in understanding.

Twilight’s frown, and her quick back-and-forths between me and Celestia, was telling. “Lyra as a...?” Her words hung. The doubt in her voice hurt, whether she did so inadvertently or otherwise. “But, I thought I would go.”

“Twilight, you know that if I could, I would bring you along as well,” Celestia explained, “if the Elements worked without you, I would not bat an eye. But you know as well as I, that you are needed here. The situation here is still very much uncertain. And,” she added in a playfully scolding tone, “don’t you want to make sure that your brother and Cadance are well?”

Twilight blinked, and made an o with her mouth, as if she had forgotten about that. “Well, yes, Princess,” she admitted bashfully, “I suppose I can stay here while we wait. Just...” she looked down dejectedly on the floor, unable to finish her thought.

Celestia nuzzled her student not unlike a mother nuzzling her child. “Don’t worry, Twilight, I’ll be back.” She looked to me and Presumptive. “We’ll all be back.”

Her tone and voice was full of confidence. Whether it was for show or not didn’t really matter, since I felt my heart in my throat. But at least you’ll get to see some humans, won’t you, Lyra?

I nodded in spite of myself. That would be an opportunity of a lifetime. Hopefully it wasn’t one to die for, though.

“We are ready, Princess,” a guard pronounced. He stood to attention by the pulling team, all looking forwards, paying no attention to the barrier out in the ocean or the shapes in the distance.

Hoofington reminded me much of Ponyville, albeit with an ocean at its doorstep. In another time I would have to consider revisiting the fishing village to appreciate it. But the matter on hoof made us all rush towards the pier rather than the village proper. Presumptive was looking out beyond the barrier, seeing the grey ships. It was difficult for me to take my eyes off them as well: they looked huge. To think that they were of that size without using sails was mindboggling. One even seemed larger than all of the others—a flagship, the stallion had guessed.

“Do you really think that they’re made out of metal?” I whispered to him.

He nodded. “I’m almost convinced of it.” He sounded convinced. “Metal’s far more resistant than wood or bark that we use, and it makes them fire-proof. The only question is how they’ve managed to build ships so large without the weight bringing them down.”

It was a good question, one to which I had no clue as to its answer. I barely knew anything about boats or sea vessels.

“Gather round, my little ponies,” Celestia announced, prompting us to approach the princess. “Are you both ready?”

Presumptive nodded in the same way as he did with me just then. I also nodded, but with much less certainty behind it. “Princess, are you sure that we’ll be safe?” I asked for what must have been the fifth time.

Celestia, showing no lack of patience, answered, “I shall not let any harm come upon either one of you; you’ll be safe under my wing.”

I hope so, I muttered in my head. I was actually scared of meeting humans. A part of me found that funny, seeing how interested I was in the mythos of humans. The rest of me cared little whether it was funny or not, and more concerned with not botching up the first meeting with a new species.

I needed a juice.

The alicorn smiled encouragingly. “This is a day for the history books,” she said in an unwavering voice, “the actions we play out today will forever be remembered.”

Celestia had said that twice already. I frowned inwardly; it was no less true, but I very much doubted that this day would be remembered as an exclusively positive light as her tone implied. We did, after all, lost an entire world. Perhaps she was repeating that to convince herself? The princess did look better —her hair no longer seemed dull and lifeless— but that didn’t really mean anything. Did it?

Whatever reservations she had, the mare showed none when she boarded the chariot. Presumptive waved ahead. “Ladies first, Miss Heartstrings.” I couldn’t tell if he was being sincerely polite or had reservations himself. Suppressing a gulp, I walked up on the chariot, feeling the wooden bed-floor bending ever so slightly to my weight. It did not groan when the stallion took his seat. With a nod and a yell, the lead puller set the whole craft rolling before it took to the skies.

My stomach lurched, protesting with the change in gravity, but it settled down after the forces stabilized and we had gained altitude. Fortunately, I wasn’t one of those non-pegasi who suffered from air sickness. It wasn’t too common, but there were a good amount who couldn’t even go on a balloon.

Why am I thinking about air sickness? I shrugged. Maybe I was trying to distract myself. But what good would it do? It was simply a delaying tactic, and I knew it only too well.

“Princess,” the professor piped up, “how does the translation spell work?”

“Simple enough: assuming that humans are not too different in thought patterns, the words we say will be directly translated in their head. The same thing will happen in reverse.” Celestia’s hair bobbed when the chariot hit slight turbulence. “It should work. I’ve used this when we first came upon the Minotaurs and Griffons.”

I frowned at the mention of the two races. Just another reminder that what few of them were in Equestria was transported to here would be the last of their kind. Celestia continued, “It will likely be an imperfect translation, however—depends how their language is constructed.”

Presumptive nodded and focused his gaze at the oncoming barrier. Looking beyond it, I could make out the ships. There were several different looking ones, all big and cloud-grey. They did look as if they were of metal. But their design… confused me.

They were ugly, long things, similar but at the same time different from the one I’ve seen in the picture. Most looked like platforms that held buildings on them, with poles or somesuch reaching up. On the —what’s the term? Bow? Stern?— ends, there were these structures that had long barrels that must have been at least a yard long. They very much reminded me of cannons, but impossibly large. Others looked like the first ones, varying in the ‘buildings’ on the platform, and their size. But there was one that was completely different from the others and much wider and longer: instead of a building, it looked as if somepony had slapped on a pegasi airstrip on the platform with a smaller tower on one of its side (Starboard? Port?), complete with white and yellow landing strips and weird characters on them. On it, I could make out weird metal things on it, and figures moving about. Were those humans?

The barrier was upon us now. The pulling team did not slow down. I gulped. I heard Presumptive murmuring something under his breath. Celestia looked determined. “Hang on,” she said above the rush of air.

The first two guards passed. Nothing seemed to happen.

The second pair passed. They and the first pair sagged.

When the third and final pulling pair crossed, the chariot lurched downwards.

I couldn’t tell how it felt crossing the barrier. All I felt was the sensation of falling into empty air, and the next thing I saw was the dark blue waters rising rapidly to greet me. A shriek filled my ears.

It took a moment to realize that the piercing shriek was my scream.

The Islands of Metal

Falling from a height felt very strange, especially when compared to falling from, say, tripping on a leg that had happened to me before. The way that my legs kicked uselessly, the way my body tumbled, the way that the air buffeted my coat: that was all very unfamiliar to me. I had even stopped screaming, almost accepting of my fate.

My eyes widened at the sight of a feathery white wing.

Something broke my fall—something hard, something hairy. With a grunt, I blinked in confusion as I looked about; a mess of fluttering coloured hair was right in front. It moved to the side to reveal the defined muzzle of Celestia.

“Are you alright?” I heard her say, her features the epitome of concentration. Still somewhat dazed, I nodded vaguely. I was still wondering how she had managed to sweep in and stop my fall. A look below showed that I hadn’t much more to fall before I hit the water. The sea foam and waves looked awfully close.

“Good,” the alicorn muttered, an edge to her voice. She gave a grunt of effort as she worked her wings to flap harder, gaining altitude with each beat of the wings. The chariot was nowhere in sight. I almost asked the princess where it was, when I noticed that none of the pulling team was tethered. All eight Guards were airborne, but looked as if they were struggling to maintain their flight. A catatonic earth pony, his eyes bulging out of his sockets, was being precariously carried by three Guards.

I chuckled in spite of myself: so much for Presumptive’s impenetrable mask.

A Guard approached us, huffing from the effort. “Princess, some-something’s wrong.” His breath was heavy with fatigue. “It’s like… like we’ve grown—heavy!” He didn’t sound or looked panicked, but worry was definitely in his tone. I felt every contraction of Celestia’s muscles for each beat of the wings; they felt very stiff.

“Drop your helmets and, if you can, your armour.” The mare’s voice contained worry, but it didn’t feel as if it was as if she was concerned with herself. “And make for that ship, it’s closer than the barrier now!”

An affirmative nod. Breathing in a lungful of air, he shouted the command to his fellow pegasi, and swooped down the approaching metal ship.

From afar, I could see commotion on the landing strip. Humans —actual humans!— were rushing to and fro, with some gathering in small clusters. These last humans pointed, gawking at the curious sight, only for them to clear the path when they realized that we were coming in to land.

Celestia swept downwards to the strip, leveling her wings. She made contact, galloping slightly as momentum carried her forwards by several hooves. I felt every hooffall reverberating as she slowed. The Guards came in tow, landing less-than-gracefully: the three that held Presumptive almost tumbled onto the platform. I winced at the sight of them growling in pain as their bodies rubbed against the surface. It took a moment and a considerable amount of will for me to unwrap my legs from Celestia’s barrel and get off of her.

My hooves resounded with a distinct clack upon setting hoof on the ground. Ship, I mentally corrected. Odd, mainly since from afar, every part of the ship seemed to be made out of metal, but the airstrip itself had an odd rock-like texture. Under my hooves, I could feel creases that almost felt natural with an almost sand-like composition. That's why those three pegasi and Presumptive had nasty friction burns.

Why was I worrying about semantics and what I was actually standing on now? Humans —humans!— were close by. Taking a good look, I could now see how… odd they were.

In two words, these humans were familiarly alien. Bipeds, like ancient descriptions depicted them, they stood on their hind legs (their only legs), while their frontal limbs were spindly arms, both like and unlike a minotaur’s beefier arms. Like in the photograph, they did not have much hair, with the notable exception of their scalps, which seemed uniformly cut, unlike the two humans in the photograph. These humans, like those in the picture, had skin and flesh in the stead of a coat of fur or feathers. A quick glance told me that the colour of the skin varied: anything from pinkish-white to dark-brown. No tail that I could see, but they were tall regardless, some looked to be twice my height; most seemed to average at eight hooves. They were, very much, gangly, hairless, and ape-like versions of minotaurs.

They covered themselves in brightly coloured vests—many in yellow, blue and green, some in white, purple and brown, and there was even one in red. Under the vests were a long-sleeved shirt or jumper and —what’s the word?— trousers, both a dark blue that was almost black, with helmets that were the same respective bright colour as the vest that they wore. Over their eyes was some sort of mask that reminded me of goggles that covered their eyes and nose.

They were running. My mind blanked for a second as I looked at the fleeing humans heading either for the tower on the side of the ship or for spots on the airstrip. They were running from us: us, who were considerably outnumbered. Perhaps they were shy? Humans weren’t described as being shy (there really wasn’t anything about how they acted, in fact), and it surprised me that they were deliberately avoiding us.

A disembodied voice emanated from somewhere. It sounded like it came from the tower, but it almost sounded that it came from all over the ship. The words were foreign, harsh, guttural yet fluid; the language was completely unintelligible to us. Well, to me at least.

“Form a perimeter around the Princess and the civilians,” a Guard barked. Turning to see our delegation, I saw that many of the Guards had discarded their helmets, revealing their ocean-blue manes. One had somehow managed to remove his full armour, bare with the exception of his armoured shoes. They, along with Presumptive, were quiet, although he was trying to make head and tails of the humans’ retreat. The Guards were attentive for anything unpleasant.

As my eyes flicked over to Celestia, she herself appeared unsure. Her face didn’t betray her, but her eyes glanced this way and that, herself observing these strange beings. She closed her eyes and her horn glowed with magic. The aura soon faded, and she looked about. “I wonder...” I heard her say underneath her breath, before turning to Presumptive at his side. “What do you make of this, Presumptive?”

“I’m not sure,” he said plainly, pushing his glasses up. He looked at the cluster of humans suddenly descend into the belly of the ship, taken below by a moving platform. A great whirr emanated from the platform as the humans disappeared from sight. It then grew quiet. “It doesn’t look like they’re afraid of us,” the stallion shook his head for emphasis, “no, they didn’t exclaim nor appear disorderly. Seemed almost as if they were performing an evacuation drill.”

“An evacuation drill?” I repeated, the quizzical tone in my question evident. “For what? Is there a fire or something?” I almost hit myself with my hoof as I realized what a silly question that was. “I mean, I know it’s us, but they looked huge! And many! They didn’t have any reason to worry about us.”

Belief opened his mouth to reply, only to leave it opened, his brow knitting in a mixture of worry and surprise. He pointed at me. “There’s… something on your...”

I looked at him nonplussed. Then I spied something: a red dot dancing on his nose. “You’ve got a dot on you!”

He went crosseyed trying to see it on his snout. His eyes went wide. “You too.” His gaze went to the alicorn, only for it to grow worried. “Your majesty… you have one on as well.”

In fact, as I looked at her, she actually had three dots twitching at her face. As one went into her violet eyes, she blinked instinctively. She looked about. In a low voice, she said, “We’re surrounded.”

I looked back—not a soul but us was on the airstrip. Where did she see…?

A glint of red made me squint my eye in reflex. It came from the tower. Dark figures that weren’t there before sat perched behind cover on the tower. Another whirr: instead of the brightly dressed humans, these humans wore dark colours, producing the same points of red light. As the platforms that they were on came to a stop, they began to move furtively, some staying still, still producing that light.

They covered themselves in strange garments, one of which reminded me of camouflage used by dragon watchers, except the patterns were infinitely more intricate and random. The scheme reflected the maritime use, as it was composed of blues and grays. Many wore vests with innumerable pouches, caps and —what’s the word?— trousers with this colour pattern, along with shiny black boots. On these camouflaged vests, I could see a gold insignia of what looked to be an eagle with lettering that I didn’t recognize. Some didn’t have the caps but helmets, some didn’t have either, others still wore only a dark blue shirt.

Their approach was shady at best, and their movements did not look friendly. “Forward defensive chevron!” the unarmored pegasi ordered, and the Guards formed a forward jutting line ahead of us, adopting an aggressive stance. The approaching humans did stop, but it didn’t look as if it was the Guards’ defense that made them stop. They still produced those red points of light—scratch that, metal tools. These long tubes with many handles and, well, things, attached to them had what looked like a smaller tube below the end pointed towards us that produced that light. What were these things? Was this their means to communicate with us or to intimidate? I certainly felt intimidated.

Like Celestia had said, we were well and truly surrounded. I glanced at Presumptive; he was looking at me with a worried frown. What are they doing? I mouthed. Along with a wide-eyed stare, he gave me the smallest of shrugs. Helpful.

“Stand down,” Celestia ordered in a cool voice. Reluctantly, the Guards obeyed, making themselves less aggressive, and parted to allow their regent to step forwards. Now a lot of the red dots were on her, at least one of them in every frontal part of her body. She stood fast against the aliens, not looking the slightest bit worried.

This was a very awkward and very tense atmosphere. Had these humans been an audience of mine, I would probably have walked out instead of performing.

“Greetings,” Celestia said in a loud, clear voice.

The reaction to this was immediate: exclamations—small yells, yips and yelps of surprise and shock were clearly audible as some humans clutched at their heads.

But I heard something else as well—words reverberated in my own head. Too many to understand them all, but I heard a few whats, hecks and ruttings. Others just faded with the amounts of words I kept hearing. I flinched at the mental noise and so did some of the others. Rutting? That probably wasn’t the right word, if it was an expletive then it would have made more sense were it a Griffon or Minotaur curse word. Equestriani tended to be too ‘nice’, and it had adopted foreign words when it came to swearing.

One of the humans scrunched up one of his hands into a ball —fist?— as a clear means of non-verbal communication.

Undaunted, Celestia went on, “I am Princess Celestia, and this is my entourage.” She bowed her head with no small amount of grace. “We come in peace.”

I mirrored her gesture, doing a small curtsy. Not quite the same as greeting an audience while at a stage, but it wasn’t terribly different. Presumptive followed the example and bowed as well. Only the Guards didn’t bow, maintaining their position instead.

Silence was the response. Curious glances and stares were all that the humans did. None of them said anything, nor did we.

“Being I inebriating or something?”

I blinked. Huh. Not the response I was expecting. It was almost funny, if the translation was correct.

“Shutting your mouth, Kah-dlek!” barked the human who had made the gesture with his hand. “Securing your weapons now—standing down.”

My lips tightened somewhat as I saw their arms lowering the tubes. Were those things weapons? Either the spell wasn’t doing its job, or their concept of weapons must’ve been vastly different from ours. The uniformed beings stood down, keeping their wary gazes on us. I recognized that look; it was the sort of look somepony gave when they suspected that someone else was lying.

“Are you the leader of this ship?” Celestia tried, referring to the one who had just spoken.

Now on the spot, the human seemed flustered for a response. “I being not leader,” it managed to say, before some commotion from behind parted the wall of humans.

Approaching us now was another group of humans, a number of the camouflaged carrying different tubes, similar to the same ‘weapons’ that the others carried. They were escorting two humans, both dressed in what I guessed was a ceremonial dark-blue uniform. They both wore white peaked caps with golden embroidery and polished shoes, unlike the boots that the others wore. On one side of their chest were a number of buttons and bars of different colours, one of the humans having more than the other.

They approached cautiously, and one spoke up: “What being happening?” The tall one with more of the decorations on his chest looked with disbelief at us. “What being you?”

“I am Princess Celestia,” the alicorn repeated, “and we come from the land of Equestria,” she pointed to the barrier, “the land within that barrier over there.” She turned back to the human. “Who are you, and who do you represent?”

The human looked nonplussed. The one to the side glanced at him. When he regarded Celestia, I almost expected him to stay planted on the spot, his glasses —they used glasses as well? Interesting— shining dully with the reflection of the sun. He righted himself, twisting his right arm and bringing his hand to his temple, flat palm, facing down—startlingly similar to a Royal Guard salute, with more hand and less hoof.

“Lesser-admiral Loo-ch Ar-chee-bahld Boh-ski, United States Navy,” he said automatically, voice unwavering. “You being aboard the United States’ Ship Geh-rawld Ar Fawrd.” The self-proclaimed officer then stood to attention. Much to his apparent surprise, Celestia returned the salute with her own. The Guards immediately followed suit.

“My thanks for allowing us onboard,” Celestia told the navy human, lowering her saluting forehoof, “I can imagine this is quite the surprise for you.”

The lesser-admiral (probably meant something else) blinked, before giving a slow yet very pony-like nod. “We… doing not expecting flying small large-ponies appearing, that being for sure.” Small large-ponies? The human language must have been really different from our own if whatever he said had come out as that in Equestriani. “How being you able to speaking In-gleesh?”

“I’m not.” Celestia smiled warmly. “But my spell allows for us to communicate, if imperfectly.”

The officer’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “Spell?” He had muttered the word in his language, but what I heard in my head was loud and clear. Before the princess could explain, he turned to the other officer, the one with less badges and ribbons, and asked quite clearly, “Doing I hearing that right?”

His fellow naval officer gave a shrug not very different from the one that Belief had given me earlier. “I thinking that it– she, meaning magic,” he suggested.

Magic? Unless the spell was botching the meaning up, that meant that humans were at least familiar with the idea. Did that mean that they used it? It would go against the ancient idea of humans.

But the remark garnered some reaction from some of the camouflaged humans—mostly scoffs. “Manure,” I heard one say plainly. He was promptly given a chastising glare from the one whom Celestia had first spoken to.

“Yes, magic,” the alicorn affirmed. “Do you know of it?”

“Yes...” Looch —what a name!— slowly said. “But, where you coming from? That land, that”—he pointed to the barrier—“thing being not there before. What being it? Where doing it coming from?”

“It’s a forcefield,” Celestia explained, “it covered much of our land and it carried it over here, into your world, and with my people on it.” She looked out into the horizon, which was obstructed by the other human ships. “This world is very much different from our own, I feel,” she said, focusing on the lesser-admiral again. “We’re surprised about your existence as much as you are with ours.”

The human nodded once more. His eyes lit up suddenly. “Sorry,” he said abruptly, “but I should not being talking to you: I being not qualified for this situation.” He snorted. “No one on world being. You must understanding, this is a first time we encountering new species.”

My eyebrow piqued at that. No other species? Did that mean that they were alone in this world?

The princess blinked before nodding herself. “I see. Do you have someone who I could speak to?”

He shook his head. “Not aboard here,” he said. “I first need to speaking with my superiors about this. Maybe they finding someone. It may being a while before they doing, though.” The officer looked over to his lesser officer, nodding. The other human scowled, but nodded as well. “Until then, you being welcome to staying onboard.”

“My thanks,” Celestia immediately said.

The human brought up a finger. “But you will not doing anything we tell you not to doing,” he warned. “You will not going anywhere on this ship without an escort. You may asking questions you may having, but we may not answering them. Understanding?”

I frowned slightly at the conditions. Control freaks, much? Well, they were military, so if they were anything like the Royal Guard, they liked to have things under their terms and control.

“Very well, I understand.” Celestia offered a warm smile and her hoof. The human looked at it, as if he didn’t know what to make of it. Slowly, he took hold of it with his hand, not quite how a pony would have, and shook it. He smiled as well.

“I welcoming you, in the name of the United States of Ah-meh-ree-kah.”

My eyes opened with a start. I breathed in quickly and shallowly, as if I had been holding my breath for a long while. My eyes darted about: books, desk, shelves. I was lying on something soft—a lime-green bean chair. I was in a study, Lyra’s study. I blinked profusely. Did I just doze off? Was that a weird dream? It felt so lifelike.

The sight of an orb at the desk dispelled that theory. The polypuzzle mockup glistened with the twisting mists on the reflection on its surface. Memory orb, I remembered, I manipulated the first piece and…

The pieces fell into place in my mind. I thought back to what I had just experienced, then back to when I tried using the orb.

A grin slowly formed in my face. Crystal, my boy, you've just found the answer to your troubles.

Hey You with the Pretty Face—Welcome to the Human Race

“No.”

I blinked in surprise. “But—”

“I said no.” My mother almost rose up from her chaise. Iron and Leaf looked on with indifference and concern respectively. The fireplace crackled in a manner not dissimilar to Dew’s temper. “Why would you want to stay here for the week that we’ve paid for?”

My lips twitched downwards. Weren’t she and dad trying to prepare the house just for that? “I thought that—” I shook my head. “But what about all of the stuff that you got?”

“That’s for Leaf to prepare the house for the holidays,” Dew huffed. “Did you really think that your father took the week off for a holiday here?”

It certainly had seemed like he had, considering the last day’s activities. We went hiking, for goodness sake! They seemed to be enjoying themselves as if they were on vacation. “So you’d rather stay in an expensive hotel rather than get to stay here for free?” I pouted. “Doesn’t seem to make much sense.”

“Why I—” My mother bit back the rest of her response and snorted in annoyance. “We’re going to stay here for one night, then we’ll be back to the hotel, and that’s final!” She rose up and stormed off into the kitchen. An uncomfortable silence accompanied the equally uncomfortable stare from Iron.

“Dad, I—” A blue hoof interrupted me.

“Don’t,” he simply said, his voice neither disappointed nor angry. “She’s… just not in the mood. And frankly”—he stood up—“neither am I.” A glass of orange juice followed him on his way out to the porch. “I’ll be outside if you need me, Leaf.” At the nod of the stallion, Iron left us alone by the fireplace.

I buried my face in a hoof and let out a breath that, up until that point, I hadn’t realized that I was holding. Maker and sisters, what was happening with my parents?

Leaf wordlessly walked over to rekindle the dying flames, stealing a backwards glance towards me as he tended to the fire. I frowned in response; what did he want from me? This was not his concern. If you want to say something then say it. Otherwise, shove off.

I scolded myself: Leaf wasn’t to blame here, he was just doing his job. Letting my frustration out in a sigh wasn’t as satisfying as venting at Leaf, however. My grandmother’s funeral was souring my relationship with my parents.

And I don’t like it one bit, no sir.

“Trouble in paradise, am I right?” Leaf said as he returned to his chaise. I nodded somberly. “Can’t say that I know exactly what yer goin’ through, but I can relate, somewhat.” My ears perked up to that. “Yup, after my friend told me to set up here and it failed, he and I had, ah”—he hesitated for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck—“I guess you can call it a fallout.”

The stallion clicked his tongue. “We were stupid,” he said in a shrug. “Mostly me, though.”

“Why?” I asked with a raised eyebrow, in spite of myself.

Leaf snorted in rueful amusement. “I told him to go geld himself.”

My eyes bugged at him. “Gel—! Did you seriously tell him that?”

“I was mad, Crystal.” He sighed, slumping into his chaise. “In case ya don’t know, when yer angry, ya don’t tend to think straight.” He stood straight again, fully facing me. “I can’t pretend that what happened to me is the same to what’s happenin’ to ya now, but it doesn’t mean that ya should lose yer cool.” Leaf sighed again. “If ya do somethin’ stupid, ya could lose them. ” His eyes wandered back to the fire. “And believe me, ya don’t want that happening.”

Part of me agreed immediately. I couldn’t afford to lose my temper and do something that I regretted; I wasn’t a colt anymore, after all.

But that was just it: I wasn’t a colt. I was an adult; responsibilities aside, I had the rights that I once didn’t have. And while getting angry at my parents for acting irrationally wasn’t necessarily the right choice it was still my choice. Somewhere within me I felt grateful for Leaf’s reminder—for the most part I felt as if I was being patronized. I didn't grace him with a response. The silent treatment was petty, petulant even, but I’d be darned if I didn’t vent myself in some way.

Leaf’s hurt expression was telling; the meaning of my silence wasn’t lost on him. If he had any qualms, however, he did not voice them and silently observed the dancing flames.

It was saddening when I begrudgingly realized that I might have just alienated the only friendly pony who I knew here.

The word of the evening was silence: not a soul spoke at dinner barring one small exchange between Iron and Leaf about bedding for me. He unfolded a thin mattress from one of the couches and provided me with a pillow and duvet for the night. He bid his farewell and went home for the night. Both my parents went to Lyra’s bedroom immediately afterwards.

It felt too warm and it was too early; I couldn’t sleep. My eyes wandered over the hot embers that still remained in the fireplace as I mulled over things. That fire is just like your relationship, Crystal: it’s dying.

I scowled at that. This whole trip, apart from the beginning, had been tense. It was easy to place the cause of it on Lyra and her beliefs, but I knew life wasn’t that simple—not as simple as it once was, at least.

Another glaring point of contention was my work. The mere notion that I wanted to write something that might have presented some redeemable qualities for humans struck a nerve. It went back to Lyra; if I said positive things about humans would definitely put me in the minority along with my grandmother, and I’ve seen the consequences of doing that.

She was still wrong about humans, that much was for certain. There couldn’t have possibly been enough good in humanity to excuse their destructive nature, and while advanced technology and social aspects were definitely a plus, they had much to explain for everything else.

I chuckled darkly. Not a human lives to excuse his species’ wrongdoings.

And that brought to mind about the other species: not many lived nowadays. There was a zebra who approached her seventies, and she was considered the youngest zebra in existence; there was a griffon community in Manehattan that was still strong, but they only numbered in the few hundreds; the last minotaur died some years ago in an accident of all things. All of them, including humans, had had a cruel destiny, but it was difficult to say that humans were undeserving of it.

I shuddered at my memory of a nuclear explosion. Granted, it was only a graphical representation of what had been recorded, but the scale of destruction was unthinkable before we came across humanity.

“Enough,” I said to nopony in particular as I rose from the mattress. It wasn’t uncomfortable and I was used to much worse, but sleep just wasn’t coming to me. I headed for the kitchen and picked out a packet of green tea and a cup. I set the water to boil when I noticed a radio on the counter. How hadn’t I noticed it before?

I shrugged: might as well put on some music while I wait.

The dial was on a familiar frequency, Radio Equestria, and knowing that their news bulletin was done at this time of night, I turned on the radio to the sound of soothing string music. I felt a content smile coming on as I leaned by the counter. I didn’t recognize the piece; hopefully they would say what it was after it finished.

Much to my irritation, the violin cut to a voice. “We interrupt this programming for a special report,” a voice chimed—a mare’s, I noted. “The Royal Observatory of Canterlot has just determined that the shooting stars reported earlier tonight were debris of the human space structure formerly known as the International Space Station.” My eyebrow piqued. “Details are still coming in, but astronomers assure that there is no danger, as the space debris will be destroyed upon contact with the barrier.”

“That ought to shut up the conspiracy nutters,” I muttered to myself, ignoring the interview with an official. There had been a lot of rumours about some humans managing to escape into space, and the most popular one was that there were still some in that space station of theirs.

Of course, I didn’t believe any of it, just like any sensible person. No creature was made for living in space, and humans were no exception. They had neither the biological, technological or logistical means to live in space, let alone thrive in it. That didn’t satisfy some and they insisted otherwise. But hopefully with this piece of news, they’d focus on something useful rather than chasing after non-existent humans.

...well, they weren’t completely naïve for thinking that. The fact that humans could go to space and did was mind boggling. If there was one thing that I admired about humans was the fact that they did go to space and to the moon, without the aid of magic at that. Had we the same capacity, a whole new horizon for exploration and discovery would have been available to us. Humans wouldn’t have capitalized on that opportunity like we would have. They probably went to space only to search for something that would make them more powerful.

I found my eyes widening slightly: why was I suddenly so negative about humanity? It hadn’t been a day since I was defending some of their achievements to that mare back at the hotel, so why was I being so cynical now?

The image of my scowling parents was enough of a clue. I groaned. Great, now I’m being partial to satisfy one party rather than being objective. Basic social studies—why was I forgetting the essentials of being a sociologist? My scowl grew at the discovery of yet another distasteful consequence of my coming to the Azures with my parents.

“...declared to take place the day after tomorrow,” the radio announcer went on. What was supposed to take place? “His widow, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, is expected to appear along with other close relatives.” Ah, the prince’s funeral. “We now return to our scheduled programming.”

This time slow organ music filled the kitchen, along with—

“Oh, horse apples!”

—the gurgling of water spilling over the pot and, soon afterwards, a muted yet audible yelp of pain.

I gingerly rubbed my hoof. Why did I reach for the pot with my hoof rather than just levitate it? Stupid me.

With the water incident dealt with along with what remained of my tea, I was lying on my bed, still fully awake and now with a slightly tender hoof. Asides from the burn, something ate at me, and it wouldn’t stop till I satisfied it. I knew exactly what it was, but I needed to sleep, curiosity be darned.

Didn’t you have this discussion earlier today?

I grimaced. That I did, and I decided then that it made the most sense to satisfy it. If it meant losing some sleep... well, I could live with it.

The only issue was that if I did that, I would be doing it a hall away from my parents. That meant that I’d risk being found out, something that both Leaf and Lyra told me to avoid. Again, the consequences of the discovery of Lyra’s memory were clear. How would I deal with the with the possible scenario of explaining myself? Could I even do it without having either one of them overreacting? My lips twitched downwards as I considered my odds.

With a swift flick of my hoof I tossed the blanket away and rose up. “Darn it all,” I mumbled, making my way upstairs.

The house shrouded in the night’s shadows felt completely alien and surprisingly unsettling. I hadn’t noticed it earlier during the day or even earlier in the evening, but the old home was really, really noisy: planks groaned under the weight; tiles creaked with age; shutters rattled in the wind. Were a wolf’s howl and the hooting of an owl added, it would have been the perfect ambience for a horror story.

I allowed myself to cast a light spell. The orb at the tip of my horn glowed less brightly than it would normally, but I really didn’t want to risk stumbling into my parents. Hopefully Dew’s sleeptrotting hadn’t rebounded since I had last left.

Slowly and carefully I walked up the stairs, taking my time deliberately with each step on the wooden staircase. The boards protested, but they were mostly quiet; with my heightened awareness it was difficult to say whether or not they were quiet enough, however.

Long seconds had passed when I finally made it to the corridor. A faint rumble could be heard coming from my left. A small smile crept up my face—snoring. Tonight looked to be a quiet night on the part of my mother. Hopefully I wouldn’t find her sleeping form stumbling about.

I continued to the study on the right, taking care with the door. Once I closed it behind me, I thought for a second to lock it before dismissing the idea. What if for some reason Iron or Dew want to open the door and find it locked? It would have been suspicious, and besides, I didn’t know where the key was nor did I have time to look for it. I brightened the orb a notch to light up the study a bit more and made for the desk. From the drawer I pulled out the strongbox and opened it.

“Woah.” The orbs almost glowed. They weren’t as eye-catching as a neon sign was, but even in the dim lighting I could see a faint light emanating from the polypuzzle-look-alikes. Maybe these things had different effects during the night? I answered my own question with a shake of the head: Lyra would have mentioned something about it in her letter.

Probably.

I am not going to have that argument again, I scolded myself, sucking it up and picking up the first memory orb. It’s first bit was already locked in place, and like a polypuzzle, awaited another bout of interaction for it to be more complete.

Except it glows in the dark and isn’t a polypuzzle and is a magical artifact that I don’t know about and could have serious repercussions if I get caught oh Celestia what am I doing?

I shook myself out of the brief panic attack and breathed deeply: in slowly, ten seconds—out slowly, ten seconds. I could do this; I already had done it before. Nothing had changed since then. With renewed confidence, I reached for the moving part with my magic and searched for the pattern.

Even with my previous experience, I yelped when the orb’s glow grew and overwhelmed my light spell. And just as suddenly it had started, the light winked out into blackness.

Flying. Flying. We’re flying!

The roar of the propellers and what I could only guess was some sort of steam engine (without expelling the telltale cloud of vapour) was nothing like I had ever experienced before, seeing as how before it had always been with the much quieter balloons or pegasus-drawn chariots. The whole thing shook a whole lot more too, the seats were quite uncomfortable, and the interior was cramped with ponies and humans.

But we were flying in an engine-powered machine! That alone made up for the inconveniences. Well, that and the view. While considerably more enclosed than the chariot that we had flown in with, the human helicopter had sliding doors on the sides of the main carriage with windows, allowing a view of the outside world. From where I sat, I saw another of the same dragonfly-like machines flying parallel to us—one of four others. It was similar to the more familiar helicopters in that it used two rotors: one to lift the whole thing and one to keep it from spinning out of control. That’s where the differences began: the chassis was more elongated to allow for more inside space and sported a longer tail to compensate the enlarged body; the front of the helicopter was much more defined than its Equestriani counterpart, resembling a mare’s snout somewhat; the overall grey colour scheme also belied its military nature, with the decal of a white five point star on a navy blue circle along with black lettering on the sides. Equestriani helicopters were a novelty item and personal transports, whereas human ones looked to be built with a more utilitarian purpose in mind.

That, and I doubted that this thing was powered by a single human’s pedalwork.

Unlike the one we flew on, the helicopters flying alongside ours acted both as an escort as a distraction. While Looch hadn’t explained what ‘distraction’ actually meant in this case, he assured that every precaution had been taken for our safety.

“New Yohrk,” a voice resounded in my head above the racket, “that being where our international assembly being established.” Turning back to the interior of the helicopter, I looked to the human in the sharp business suit. Like many other similarities found so far, the suit seemed like something that a noble or businesspony would wear, just refitted for the alien shape. The striped blue and red necktie had come somewhat undone, but he still looked presentable.

“I see,” said Celestia on the side. Her head was craned at low angle because of her size and low-hanging ceiling. If she was uncomfortable, she didn’t voice her complaint. “And just how many nations are part of this assembly, Mister Deyuchs?”

“One hundred ninety four, your grace,” came the reply. All of the ponies in the machine, barring the two Guards, turned to face the man with wide eyes.

“Two hundred nations?” Presumptive stuttered at Deyuchs’ —these names!— nod. “A-all humans?” Another nod. I blew a low whistle, which gained me a raised eyebrow on the part of the man.

It had been something of a shock when we learned that the only sapient creatures in this world, but even then, that possibility had been considered back in Equestria. But to hear that there were so many tens of nations...!

“How do you get anything done?” Presumptive asked Deyuchs. “Coordinating with so many different states can’t possibly be easy.”

The man pursed his lips in a pensive pout, looking upwards in thought. “I supposing it being strange,” he said with a shrug of the shoulders. “Sometimes we doing not agreeing on things. It being a difficult task at times.” He let out a chuckle that wasn’t audible over the engine. “But we trying.”

“So that’s every nation? A hundred and ninety four?”

“No, there being two hundred and seven. Not everyone being in it.”

I blew another whistle before scolding myself for it. “I still can’t believe it,” I managed to say. “One species and yet so many nations.”

Another shrug from Deyuchs as well as that odd expression. It was strange; it wasn’t a smile, but it wasn’t quite a frown. It was a very neutral smile, and it seemed to be the ‘default’ face from what I’ve seen from the different faces. Even Looch seemed to favour that particular smile.

“I must admitting, the stories you telling me about other races...” He shook his head. “It being all very incredible.”

“But true, I assure you,” Celestia said, keeping her measured smile. “We intend to be open with you. This is why we asked for a convening of your leaders.”

Deyuchs nodded. “I understanding, but understanding this,” he spoke, raising a finger that implied a warning. “The United States of Ahmehreeka, while being a world leader, being not loving by many.”

“But aren’t most of the nations part of the Union?” Presumptive interrupted. “Why would they be members if they did not, well, love it?”

The diplomat blinked, his thick, hairy eyebrows furrowing in apparent confusion. For a moment I wondered if the spell had failed to provide a translation before he broke in fit of barking laughter. Even the human soldiers at his sides turned to watch him with surprised expressions through their gas masks.

“Forgiving me, but the United States being not the United Nations.” Deyuchs straightened, his deep chuckles ebbing away. “Ahmehreeka being my country, but it being a member of the United Nations and holding an important seat in it.”

Presumptive coughed. “I see,” he muttered, suddenly taking an interest in one of the human soldiers’ boots. I couldn’t hide my smirk.

“But what I meaning is this: we being the first to welcoming a foreign species, and many will not liking it.” Deyuchs’ gaze fell. “Many might not even believing it.” He almost whispered that last bit.

Celestia’s smile fell, but did not turn into a frown. In fact, to me, it almost seemed like an imitation of the humans’ ‘default’ smile, and a good one too. I wondered what the Princess was thinking.

“Why is that?” Presumptive asked, genuinely curious.

There was a downwards tug at Deyuchs’ lips. His eyes shifted to the soldier to his right before turning back to Presumptive. “It being complicated,” was all he said. The soldier seemed to grunt an affirmative to that.

The stallion was dissatisfied with the answer. “If your United States are a world leader, why would anyone be negative with anything you do?”

Deyuchs blinked slowly, biting into his lip. The Princess cleared her throat loudly enough to gain Presumptive’s attention. “Perhaps we can discuss that later,” she suggested, earning a smile from the human. What was she doing?

“Yes,” Deyuchs said, tightening his tie. “For now we must preparing you for the secretary of state—my superior.” He straightened up in his seat. “Kahrver Troomahn, a dehmohcrat.” A chuckle escaped his lips. “It being probably a good thing that the current cabinet being dehmohcrat.”

“Is that a tribe?” I asked. I got another chuckle as an answer, although this time even the two soldiers joined in Deyuchs’ mirth.

“I wishing that they being a tribe,” one muttered through their mask. “Then we could sending them to a reserve!” Another round of laughter emanated from the two soldiers.

I just wish we were in on the joke. From the sounds of it, it must’ve been hilarious.

“But yes,” Deyuchs said. “I being not sure what would having happening if we having a rehpuhbleecan one instead.” He shrugged. “I doing not liking thinking what first contact would having resulting in.”

Much to my surprise, Presumptive didn’t jump onto that. Just what do you mean by that, Deyuchs? It took me a moment to realize that I had said my thoughts aloud after seeing the man’s fleshy face twist with a scowl. He looked to both of his companions, gaining no response from either. The hands on his lap squeezed one another. “Not to meaning any offense,” Deyuchs spoke slowly, his tone even and deliberate, “but you may not being here speaking otherwise.”

This time Presumptive didn’t miss his chance. “And what do you mean by that, sir?” His eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Once more Deyuchs seemed to be at a loss for a response. I wasn’t much of a diplomat, but from the way he and his body spoke, it wasn’t because he didn’t have one, but because the ones he did were not comfortable for him to say aloud.

I blinked. Huh, I might be cut out for this after all.

One of the soldiers to the side indicated to us with his gloved hand. “You small large-ponies?” His hand balled into a fist before he splayed it open, making a ‘boom’ with his mouth. The two Guardsponies stares hardened. Celestia’s breath caught in her throat. Deyuchs and the other soldier turned their heads, incredulous. Only Presumptive and I didn’t respond. To that, the soldier added one word: “Dead.”

Now my breath caught itself in my throat. I’m pretty sure my heart skipped a beat. Maybe two.

“We would have died?!” Presumptive exclaimed, taking the words straight from my mouth. “Why would you kill new beings that were trying to contact you?”

Deyuchs raised his hands, possibly to placate us. “Please, understanding that that might not having happening,” he pleaded. “We doing not having any previous experience with this sort of scenario; we having considering the possibility of hostile visitors. In fact, it being Lesser-Admiral Bohski’s intervention that preventing the Gehrawld Ar Fawrd or any of the other ships from launching large-explosive-rockets at your group.”

Celestia lowered her head, displaying her horn. Darkly, she asked, “You mean to tell me that you attack first and ask questions later when it comes to otherworldly beings?” The grimace on her muzzle deepened. “That’s not very conducive to starting relations.”

Deyuchs’ own scowl grew. “Like I saying, we having no experience with this!” With a huff, he continued, “Our only protocol regarding first contact requiring us to be extremely cautious and observing at a distance. It being not by chance that you being placed in quarantine while I arriving.” He threw his hands up. “Even that we messing that up. For all we knowing, everyone on the Gehrawld Ar Fawrd and in this helicopter may having some unknown disease.” Deyuchs pointed a finger at us. “That going for you as well. Who being to saying that we not having infecting you? You being aliens, we not having the luxury of knowing everything about you.”

The Princess tipped her head upwards slightly. “Apparently we lack the same knowledge about you as well, unfortunately.”

I was still terribly upset by the fact that I was alive thanks to a human taking a risk, but now that he had said it, Deyuchs and the other humans had been rather forgiving as to how they had received us. Now everything that they did seemed to make sense: the less-than friendly reception; the often vague answers provided to our questions to our hosts on the ship; the fact that they seemed only comfortable to provide us water but absolutely refused to offer us food when requested.

Presumptive shook his head. “That explains a lot,” he muttered. “It’s clear that in a situation like this one, a lot can go wrong. I mean, we had an inkling as to why the crew was so stand-offish with us, but we didn’t imagine it’d be out of concern for both our safety and yours.” He glanced sideways. “At least, I hadn’t.”

“Neither did I,” I added.

“I suspected,” Celestia said. “But as Presumptive said, I didn’t expect it.”

The Guards didn’t add anything—typical.

Deyuchs began to fix his tie again. “I seeing. Doing understanding, anything we doing not being necessarily out of malice or apathy.” He snorted, tugging at a corner of his lips to form a lopsided smirk. “The only reason we being not keeping you quarantined or asking you to returning to your Equestria being because other powers knowing.” With a forceful tug, he tightened the tie. “We being forced to taking this option. The other two choices would ruining our public image.” His ‘neutral’ smile returned.

For some reason that I couldn’t quite fathom, that smile fit the mood in the helicopter perfectly.

It had been a long flight before there was something other than the sky and ocean that was visible through the window. Deyuchs had told us but I don’t think anyone had imagined New Yohrk to be this expansive. Once we were near, I couldn’t see anything but a sea of concrete and glass in the horizon.

And goodness, the buildings!

Skyscrapers that put the tallest Manehattian towers to shame; paved roads filled to the brim with metal carriages; such activity was easily unrivaled when compared to anything that we had back home. Regardless of everything else, humans (or at least these Ahmehreekans) were incredible builders. Apparently the old descriptions weren’t entirely incorrect.

As we approached what was described to us as a ‘helicopter landing site’ on a pier, Deyuchs went over the detail as to how we would enter the ‘general assembly’ building of the UN Headquarters after having a conversation with someone on a device handed to him.

“We doing not having permission to landing in the complex itself,” he explained. “The helicopter landing site is a short drive from the headquarters along FDR road and first avenue. The NYPD —New Yohrk’s police force— having clearing the road and stopping all traffic for our convoy. Once we landing you will having to moving fast into the transports to avoiding any unnecessary distractions.”

“What about the meeting with your secretary of state?” Celestia asked.

“There having being a slight change in plans” Deyuch clarified. “He will meeting you immediately after the UN session.” He arched his thick eyebrows. “Being that alright?”

“That is entirely fine,” was the Princess’ reply.

The man nodded. ”When you arriving at the UN Headquarters, you will being in the hands of the UN security forces. You will following anything that they telling you.” Deyuchs’ voice grew quiet. “This being already a tricky situation, please doing not complicating it further by causing any trouble in international territory.”

“You’ll have nothing to fear from us,” Celestia assured.

The diplomat laughed halfheartedly as the helicopter set down on the pier. “Honestly? I being worried about some of the delegates’ reactions more so than what you might doing.” The doors opened. “Now coming—let’s getting going.”

In good order, Deyuchs and the two soldiers exited the helicopter before signalling us to follow. Celestia went first, followed by the two Guards, then by Presumptive and me.

As I stepped out I walked into a different world.

It was deceptively familiar: my time in Manehattan made me recognize some of the sights, sounds and smells of New Yohrk, although there were noticeable differences: some heavy musk or odor that made my nose scrunch up automatically; sirens akin to those on ambulances blared in the distance, barely audible above the helicopter blades; all of the structures were a dull grey, just like the overcast clouds. As big as the city seemed, it appeared rather sad.

Then again, it might have just been a poor day for me to judge it so.

A canvas tunnel had been set up for us, leading to a heavily guarded convoy of metal carriages on rubber wheels. Kars, I reminded myself. All of these kars had black bodies with smoked black windows, making it impossible to see the inside. One of these was different: this particular kar looked as if somepony had stretched it out, leaving it long and short compared to its bigger, boxy-er counterparts. The humans (who were wearing an enclosed white suit with a glass visor that appeared similar to the hazardous materials and energies suits that we had back home) ushered us towards the long kar.

“This being the best thing we could finding in such short notice,” Deyuchs clarified, walking along with us. “Normally this being using to transporting humans, but it should sufficing.”

Celestia huffed, her diplomatic smile gone. “It’ll have to do,” she said, entering the carriage first.

Inside, the kar interior was completely made out of a number of blacks and browns. There were multiple doors to the sides, but only the rear one appeared to be unlocked. There was a single long black chaise on one of the sides of the kar, along with some throw pillows haphazardly placed around strap harnesses. “For safety,” Deyuchs answered when Presumptive asked.

Deyuchs slunk against the side of the kar near one of the edges of the chaise, whereas the Princess elected to rest upon a pillow opposite of the man. I decided to sit right on the other edge of the chaise: it wasn’t designed for pony use, but it was infinitely more comfortable than the bench on the helicopters. I couldn’t quite tell what sort of material was used for the chaise cover; I’d have to ask someone about it later. It was here where the other Guards that rode on one of the helicopters joined us, bringing the people inside, including Deyuchs and the two flanking security officers, to a total of twelve.

The mismatch of helmetless Guards, the now disheveled Presumptive, and the prim and pristine Deyuchs and princess along with the walking white hazmatene suits was ridiculous, comical even, had the context been different.

“Being we good?” one of the walking suits asked Deyuchs once we were all strapped in and buckled up.

Deyuchs looked over us, prompting a somber nod from Celestia. “I guessing so,” he murmured. Turning to the agent, he then added, “Getting us moving then.”

The suited agent nodded and spoke into a device. “Package being ready to being delivering. Status green.” Then we got rolling. While we couldn’t see the outside, it wasn’t difficult to tell that we were moving at a steady pace with the convoy escort.

I was somewhat conflicted: the Ahmehreekans seemed to care for our safety, but some of the comments by Deyuchs and the way that we were treated, said otherwise. Getting a Royal Escort back in Equestria was the epitome of social status. You were essentially paraded. Here? It felt as if I was a prisoner. Hopefully that wasn’t the intention, and, perhaps in a way that only Pinkie Pie would approve, we were being kept hidden for the big reveal.

Still, the ride wasn’t very fun. At least the helicopter flight was novel. This didn’t manage to impress as much.

Thankfully it didn’t take long before we came to a stop. The agents told us to wait for ‘the area being secure’ before we were allowed out.

This time, instead of a pier in the middle of a city built on islands, there was a great big alabaster, concave structure with a grey domed expansion on top of it. Dozens of flagpoles flying an incredible array of different colors lined the grass area running parallel with the paved street. Leading into the great building was a living cordon of white hazmatene suits, all of which were facing outwards.

Most anyways—a few stole some backwards glances to catch a glimpse of our group. It was difficult to see through their visors, but I caught more than a few wide eyes behind that protective glass.

“Coming on,” Deyuchs called to us while he flashed an ID card to one of the hazmatene humans. “The assembly having already convening in an emergency session. Letting us not making them waiting any longer.”

With no small amount of trepidation, I followed a seemingly fearless (yet somewhat annoyed) alicorn into the unknown for the second time.

The anxiety I felt was intimately familiar, yet far greater than what I had experienced prior to that moment. Stage fright can do some funny things to a pony who’s not used to it: sometimes they jitter; sometimes they feel dizzy; sometimes they freeze up; all kinds of weird shenanigans can happen.

Then again, most ponies weren’t in my situation. ‘The eyes of the world will being on you in there,’ Deyuchs said. It was somewhat telling that I was feeling the onset of stage fright before we were even introduced. And I wasn’t even going to be the one speaking.

I was rolling my head to loosen up my neck muscles regardless. I’d have meditated for a moment to clear my head as well, but it wasn’t clear when we’d be brought into the assembly hall. I didn’t even know how big this hall was!

I could really go for a cold glass of orange juice right about now.

“How do I look, Miss Heartstrings?” Presumptive asked. Turning to face him I saw that he cleaned up his appearance noticeably: while his auburn coat needed to be washed, he managed to brush both it and his dark grey mane with a brush that a… stagehoof? Eh, I don’t know. Someone offered one to him. His tie was fixed and his rimmed glasses were clear.

“I didn’t take you for one to care much for image, professor,” I chided.

The stallion harrumphed. “Normally I wouldn’t, but these are not normal circumstances, Miss Heartstrings.” He placed the brush on a table that was too tall. “Honestly, I don’t know how you make your wild mane work.”

I glanced furtively to both sides before smiling sheepishly. “I guess it, um, runs in the family?” I offered lamely. Smooth.

Presumptive deadpanned. “I see,” he said dully. He turned to Celestia. “Are you well, your majesty?”

Celestia, for her part, looked impeccable as always. Even the sour expression from earlier was replaced by her usual appealing smile. “I’m fine, thank you.” The smile fell somewhat. “I’m just feeling somewhat hungry.”

I had to stifle a groan. “Please Princess,” I whined, “don’t remind me.” As if on cue, a quiet rumble from my stomach punctuated my feelings. I almost blushed as Celestia giggled behind a hoof. “What I’d do for a hay burger right about now…” I muttered.

“No food until we can telling what being safe for your consumption,” Deyuchs repeated for what must’ve been the third time. “We cannot allowing for you to suddenly getting food poisoning or, worse, dying while speaking.”

I shuddered at the image of me keeling over while emptying the contents of my stomach. Thanks, Deyuchs. That little picture will be a big help in overcoming the stage fright.

He suddenly snapped his fingers and turned to Celestia. “I almost forgetting: doing your spell working over long distances?”

Celestia slowly shook her head. “I’m afraid it only works within earshot. I could amplify my voice, but I don’t think anyone would appreciate it.”

Please don’t, I pleaded silently, recalling the time Luna had come that one time during Nightmare Night. My ears rang for nearly two days after that incident.

Deyuchs pouted pensively. “Doing you thinking that the spell would working if we artificially replicating your voice instead?”

It was the Princess’ turn to look pensive. “I don’t see how that would work, unless it’s a natural amplification of the actual sound, and not one that is replicated.”

“Darn,” Deyuchs swore. “I thinking you will needing a speaker to relaying what you saying. Communication here being key, and we doing not wanting any misunderstanding.” He grimaced. “We cannot affording to having any.”

Celestia flicked her wings once in something of an approximation of a shrug. “Whatever works best.”

The man nodded, turning to another human dressed in one of those hazmat suits, the head of security called Rowsahreeah. “I will being with her grace while out there. Can you ensuring that I will not being stopping?”

Her voice was muffled by the suit, but the message translated into my head was as clear as day: “I having to running this through with my superiors, sir.”

“Doing so, please.”

Rowsahreeah nodded and pulled out a device from her belt and began speaking into it through her sealed visor. I had already seen Deyuchs and some of the other humans use one or something similar, but I was fascinated as to how it functioned. It had been agreed earlier on the Gehrawld Ar Fawrd that humans, in spite of their familiarity with the concept of it, did not use magic. There just simply wasn’t enough AME in this world (or at least in this part of the world) for any creature to develop a means to take advantage of it.

It still didn’t make their machines seem any less magical.

At the end of the conversation that the officer supposedly had with someone else she nodded to Deyuchs. “They will allowing it,” she finally said. “They not expecting the request, but they will allowing it.”

“Thanks,” Deyuchs replied, shaking the officer’s gloved hand. He faced us. “Letting us going over it again: doing you knowing where to going and what to doing?” His eyes first flicked over to Celestia. “Your grace?”

“I shall follow you over to the sealed compartment with a table and be seated. When called, I’ll make my address to the General Assembly, then answer any questions that the members of the assembly will undoubtedly have,” she answered promptly, wearing her friendly smile.

Deyuchs nodded. “Very good.” He looked over to me and Presumptive. “And the two of you?”

Presumptive waved a hoof. “We will stay seated at the table with the Royal Guards and not speak unless asked to.” I nodded in agreement.

Another nod from the diplomat. “One thing to noting: please doing not using any magic for any reason,” he cautioned. “Some of the member states delegates may not reacting well to the sight of something levitating suddenly.”

“It’s not like it would be easy anyways.” I smirked. “I don’t think you have anything to fear from us,” I added confidently.

Deyuchs gave me a slow nod. “Good—okay we being ready then.” He looked to Rowsahreeah. “We being ready,” he repeated.

Rowsahreeah addressed us: “Alright, following me. Doing not attempting any strange actions or moves, for we will using force to restraining you.” She eyed Celestia in particular when she said the last bit with no small amount of distrust. The Princess for her part only maintained her stony smile.

Rowsahreeah led the way, followed immediately by Deyuchs, Celestia and the two Guard officers, while Presumptive and I came afterwards, trailed by two security officers in hazmatene suits. The other four Guards flanked the Equestriani delegation with two per side. These four were flanked by human security officers suited up in those white hazmatene suits as well. Silently, we walked down along the white hallway. Towards the end we came across a door with a horizontal slit on it, too high up for any of our delegation except the Princess to see through it. Rowsahreeah slid a card through a wall mounted receiver and the door unlocked.

Once through the threshold, I suddenly felt rather small.

The hall that housed the General Assembly was huge. We had entered it through one of the side entrances, so the auditorium where sat a sea of humans of all colors and races was right in front of us. It even had an upper level where there were even more people sitting, flanked by huge abstract murals. To the right was what I would have called the ‘stage’, which consisted of two dark marble podiums, the one behind the black one being bigger and placed higher up. On it sat three humans overseeing on the whole hall. Behind them was a golden wall with a large circular emblem emblazoned upon it: a rounded map of what I could only guess was a flattened version of this world, with longitudinal and latitudinal lines ‘forming’ the world. This globe was inscribed in a wreath of crossed olive branches, albeit highly stylized. On both sides of the emblem were large screens, currently focused on… us? How in the world?

At first we judged the humans to be primarily utilitarian while we were on their ship. This went to show that when they built to impress, they were darned impressive.

What had been a steady hum of conversations among the delegates of the human member states gave way to a tense silence as all eyes fell upon us. I could spy dropped jaws, pointing fingers, even exchanged glances of disbelief.

Trust me, I’m as stunned as you all are.

Regardless of my body’s attempts to block my legs, I managed to keep a somewhat confident stride as we were led to some sort of sealed compartment with a wooden table with stools to the left of the podiums. Once seated (and, I suspected, locked in), we looked on to the three humans on the large marble podium. The one in the middle, a dark-skinned male from the looks of it, tapped the microphone before him.

“Ladies and gentle-human-males of the Assembly,” he spoke slowly, his normal voice amplified by the microphone through some unknown magicless means, “as you all undoubtedly having realizing by now, this being not like any emergency session of which we having ever holding.” He glanced towards our table. “Normally there being a specific speaking order, but giving the current circumstances both apparent and explaining to me, I moving to allowing the representative of this” —he fumbled for a moment, looking at us uncertainly—“ah, delegation, to speaking on their behalf.” The man turned to his colleagues on his sides, whom nodded.

The large screens became black, showing writing that I couldn’t decipher. The hall slowly came alive once more with a general murmur as the delegates seem to argue and discuss amongst themselves. Many were too far for the spell to translate anything, but I did catch snippets from those closest:

“Shall we letting the aliens talking?”
“They being small large-ponies! They doing not having the same rights!”
“This making little sense…”
“But they not being members, there being a procedure after all.”
“This being unprecedented...”
“They being not humans. It should not being allowed. Right?”
“Being you stupid? We should at least listening to what they having to say.”

My ears folded automatically—that didn’t sound too good.

The screens showed movement: green and red scripts changed at random intervals. It then hit me: those screens were a tally of the delegates! “If only we could read their writing,” I mumbled to Presumptive.

He did not respond, but his grey eyes were sharp as always. He looked to be trying to read the thoughts of the nearest delegates; I couldn't tell whether or not he was having any luck.

Eventually the scripts stopped changing, and were promptly displayed boldly across the screens. The green appeared to be bigger than the red.

“The motion passing.” The first speaker looked to us. “You having the floor,” was all he said.

Deyuchs and Celestia looked to each other, exchanged nods, and rose. The alicorn put on her subtle yet friendly smile, taking a deep breath, eyes closed. The giant screens were solely focused on her.

I noticed only then that I had been holding my breath.

“Greetings,” the Princess began, immediately followed by a repeat from Deyuchs who spoke directly into the microphone. A low murmur grew among the hall, to which Celestia smiled playfully. “I am fully aware how awkward our appearance is to the members of this hall, and I sincerely apologize for the confusion that our arrival has caused.” She waited for Deyuchs to relay his bit. “I am Princess Celestia of the Principality of Equestria, the land mass that resides within the pink ‘bubble’ of which you are most likely aware of.”

This spurred some more harried murmuring among some of the delegates. Unfazed by the minor outburst, Celestia continued after Deyuchs was finished. “We are in your world by no intention of ours. We are just as surprised of you as you are of us.” She eyed some of the nearby delegates who seemed less than convinced. “I would think this is rather implicit, but I will clarify it now for all to hear: we have no hostile intentions towards you or this world.”

Deyuchs seemed to take longer to dictate the last bit for some reason. One delegate far in the back seemed to have started ranting, but was too far off for them to be audible.

“I have come to understand that this is a difficult concept to understand, but I assure you that we are here entirely by accident, and that there is no ulterior motive to our being here.”

Deyuchs hadn’t even finished speaking when a new voice filled the hall. With no translation coming to my mind, I looked about confused. Who was talking? The screens seemed to have shifted to a robed human of brownish color, standing up from their seat, ranting in a tongue that had no bearing on what little Ingleesh I had picked up.

“The Princess having the floor,” one of the men on the large podium interjected, the one with a balding head and glasses, sounding rather annoyed. “You may only speaking after…” He looked to Celestia uncertainly. “…after the Princess being finishing.”

As the screen showed, the robed delegate, disgusted, gestured to his group and they all stood. They promptly walked out of the hall. They weren’t the only delegation to do so.

Having part of an audience leave in the middle of a show always struck a chord in me. I knew that it was never possible to completely please everyone, but having someone walk out on me (even though this was neither a show nor mine) hurt.

The first speaker turned to the Princess. “You may continuing.”

Celestia bowed her head in thanks. “Thank you, Mister Speaker.”

“That being President of the Assembly, Princess,” the man corrected.

“Of course, Mister President,” she amended, “my apologies.” Clearing her throat, Celestia continued, “As I was saying, I understand how this must appear to you: a strange land encased in a bubble suddenly appearing on your world inhabited by strange beings? Your doubts are entirely justified, and were the roles reversed, my people would feel the same towards you.”

That seemed to quell some of the murmurs that still remained. Once more, the humans’ attention was fully focused on the alicorn.

“Rest assured that we have no intention of remaining in your world, for we realize that we do not belong here. We will do everything we can to leave without accident, but I understand this,”—the Princess’ gaze grew grave—“I cannot guarantee that we will leave soon if at all. We have never experienced anything like this, and we might be trapped here.” She gave a long pause, even longer than what Deyuchs needed. “It is under this light that I extend a hoof of friendship with all of the nations of which you represent and invite for a cultural exchange to demonstrate our peaceful disposition.

“I thank the Assembly for their time and attention.” While Deyuchs spoke to the hall, Celestia turned to the President of the Assembly. “I am ready to take questions and answer them to my best ability.”

The three men one the podium talked to themselves, keeping their discussion quiet enough that I couldn’t hear from the table. Just as Deyuchs was finishing up the President nodded. “The floor being now open to any and all delegates who having any queries to voicing,” he spoke aloud into his microphone.

The hall erupted with a myriad of conflicting voices. It didn’t take long for the President to speak up: “Here we will following the normal speaking order. Some respect, please!”

The voices died down once more and the screens focused on a new delegation. The human, a female in a dress a hue darker than my coat, spoke in another language. Deyuchs translated: “The representative of the Brazeeleean delegation asking how you being able to communicating. Should I telling her?”

Celestia nodded. “We have nothing to hide.”

The diplomat turned back to microphone. “They utilizing magic, madam representative,” he said. “As best I understanding it, the Princess casting a spell that allowing meanings to being understood. I being speaking for her because it having only a limited range.”

The Brazeeleean opened her mouth to speak but seemed to think better of it. After a few words and a nod, she resumed her seat.

“Doing the Ahmehreekan delegation having anything to asking?” the President asked.

The screens once more shifted focus, this time to a man in a suit similar to Deyuchs’. “What exactly being this bubble?” he asked through Deyuchs. “We having trying to send a non-piloted-machine-scout to investigating your territory, but it being destroyed upon contact.”

So that’s what the ‘wing’ that tried to get into Hoofington was? I hummed softly. That both explains some things… and possibly complicates others.

Once more in the spotlight, Celestia closed her eyes in thought. “I don’t have an explanation for it,” she finally said, eyes shining with the reflection of the lights of the hall. “All we know is that it is of an unknown form magic that is lethal to any and all beings not from our world.” Her face fell. “I’m sorry to say that we have witnessed two humans perish attempting to pass through it.” Before the hall had a chance to respond, Celestia added, “We don’t know as to why we can cross it while you can't. Rest assured that we will do everything to neutralize or suppress that dangerous aspect. Failing that, we will try to come up some way to provide protection to those trying to cross. Any assistance provided in solving this issue will be greatly appreciated.”

The Ahmehreekan delegation spoke once more. Deyuchs face hardened: “He asking why not simply removing the barrier.”

Me and Presumptive observed the Princess carefully, eyes and ears attentive. She seemed to sigh, although I couldn’t tell. “Please understand: the world we originated from was rich in ambient magical energies. Your world is severely lacking in these energies, and we have no idea as to the long-term effects on our biological functions if we are deprived from them for any length of time. For all we know, we may die right here, right now.”

Deyuchs’ final relayed sentence brought on a deathly silence. Presumptive chewed on his lower lip. I felt the need to gulp.

I really, really needed a cold glass of juice.

It felt like a long minute of nopony keeling over when Celestia resumed speaking. “I am possibly risking my life and that of my entourage to warn your people from attempting to cross over our territory. I am doing so because I wish for the fewest possible deaths between our worlds. I am expendable—my whole country is not.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Make of it what you will. But I will do what I can to ensure peace and harmony between our people. Will you do the same?”

Deyuchs was slow on the translation, as he looked stunned. Once he was finished the whole assembly reflected his expression.

The Ahmehreekan representative spoke once more. Deyuchs faced Celestia. “Princess, doing your entourage coming willingly knowing that they being at risk? That they could dying?” His question sounded personal as it came out as a near-whisper.

Celestia said nothing; she only glanced at the members of our delegation.

The Sergeant’s nostrils briefly flared as his eyes shone with a sense of unflinching courage before stiffly saluting. The other five Guards followed his lead and saluted as well.

Presumptive, for all of his faults, never so much wavered when he nodded.

I suddenly felt the eyes of an entire world on me.

I knew what was expected of me, and while it wasn’t a lie it wasn’t the entire truth: I had agreed to follow the Princess wherever she went, even when the destination was unclear and the route dangerous. I hadn’t expected all of… this.

I hadn’t expected to risk drowning in an ocean; I hadn’t expected to risk getting blown clear from the skies; to be killed on a cold metal ship; to be at risk from unknown diseases; to be at risk of dying from a lack of AME. I hadn’t agreed to any of this.

And yet I couldn’t bring myself to shake my head or to deny what Celestia had implied. A voice in the back of my head warned me that doing so would push a teetering Equestria over the edge. It was the last thing that we needed and having that on my conscience would kill me… if the AME deprivation or some other maker-forsaken thing didn’t kill me first.

I looked up to meet both Deyuchs and Celestia’s eyes. “Yes,” I announced, punctuating myself with a definitive nod.

Then, somewhere in the hall, came the sound of a pair of hands slowly clapping: it was the Ahmehreekan representative. Another from his delegation joined him, and then another, and then yet another. Soon the hall rang with applause from the delegates. I recognized it for what it was; to an amateur an applause was just an applause. But this was different: there were no accompanying cheers, no ecstatic smiles that came with the applause to indicate the audience’s enjoyment or of their approval.

This was nothing more than an applause made out of respect and solidarity of the ‘brave’ and ‘selfless’ act on the part of the aliens to declare their people’s friendly intention.

While the acclamation was not directed at me, it was difficult not to feel overwhelmed by the positive response of the General Assembly. In essence, a population of nearly two hundred nations were applauding us. That was well beyond what I had received during my stage career.

Still, that didn’t overshadow the fact that I would have to have a word or two with Celestia about gambling with my life. Heck, Presumptive could join in as he probably had some words to mince with her as well.

In all of the din with my belly rumbling, I barely heard myself think, Just what have I gotten myself into?

Prologue - Not with a Bang but a Whimper

It had been an exhausting hike up the mountain, and the fact that we were running against the clock forced us to rush ourselves. I was scratched all over my lower legs. Luckily my suit was still presentable in spite of the considerable foliage that I had to wade through. The journalists sported hats and equipment that were worse for wear as a result of the walk. Only the guards looked pristine, not a single scratch could be found on the stark white coats of the Pegasus Guard.

It hadn’t even been a long hike: At most we’ve walked for some ten minutes. Still, it had worn us down significantly. As short as the trek was I couldn’t find the time to admire the panoramic view of the mountain. A shame, considering that Narodnaya was the last refuge for the untainted remains of the boreal forests in the Ural mountain range. If there had been a chance to truly appreciate the Ural wilderness before the barrier engulfed it, then it had already been squandered; all attention was now focused on the clearing up ahead.

Before the reporters and I could break away from the tree line we awaited for the scouts to explore the opening before proceeding. Another delay—another one and I wouldn’t find anyone up there.

Several moments passed before we were given the all-clear. Taking stock of myself for the final time, I left the forest. The trees gave way to a field of grasses and bushes. We were nearly at the top of the mountain, and the view of the range around me was breathtaking, the visible spots of the pinkish barriers notwithstanding.

But I had no time to be breathless, we’ve lost enough time already.

I moved towards the only things that were out of place with the scenery: a small orange-green dome tent along with the dying remnants of a campfire and a figure.

The man lay sitting by the fireplace clad in an old hunting vest with a khaki cap and with a solemn expression. He looked worryingly thin and tired, and even from this distance I could sense that he hadn’t bathed for several days. His brown hair had long since become ragged and greasy, his clothes indicated that they had been worn for too long, full of mud and dirt.

I approached the man with care, unsure if he had taken notice of me. The journalists crept up from behind, keeping a safe distance from the tent.

I faced the man and paused. Did he even know I was here? His eyes were cast downwards, to a metallic tool: a handgun.

Men with weapons were very dangerous, more so if they weren’t of police or military background, neither of which this man was part of. I knew it was best not to upset the man but with time becoming scarce I had to move things along, even if it did mean that there was going to be the risk that this could end badly.

“Mister Sokolov?”

The man took no notice of my voice and kept looking at his weapon, as if he were contemplating something.

I wouldn’t dare think what exactly he was mulling over.

“Mister Alexei Sokolov?” I said again, albeit a bit more loudly. Be firm but polite.

Once more there was no visible response from the man.

Whether or not he acknowledged me I was obliged to press on. “We have recently learned that you are the last remaining human being in this world.”

I braced myself for a bad reaction from him. If I have learned anything from humans is that they take any loss of their kin extremely badly, often allowing their emotions to take over and take actions that they’d otherwise deem irrational.

Instead of the expected outburst, the man’s head drooped even lower. He fondled his handgun, feeling the weight and shape of it, possibly deciding over something.

“Dа, tо, chto i ozhidalos,” he finally spoke in his native tongue in a murmur, still keeping his downwards gaze.

It was at times like these that I wish that humans had only one universal language. Their English was widely spoken but it was very possible to find someone who couldn’t speak a single word of it back in the day. I found myself hoping that I didn’t have to deal with one who wasn’t familiar with the human tongue I knew best.

Nevertheless I continued. “As the last human being on the planet, the Equestriani Crown has tasked me to offer you a choice: You may remain as you wish, or,” I levitated a vial of a purplish liquid out from my suit, “you can take this potion and ensure your survival.”

I kicked myself for saying that last part; I knew it as well as the ponies responsible for the potion that any man who drank it was turned into a pony. It would have the memories of the man, but it would never be the same as he was. It was as if the man died to give birth to a new being that had little to do with he who sacrificed himself.

But orders were orders. I had to recite the offer exactly as told and my own feelings wouldn’t get in the way, no matter how I felt about the situation.

A scowl grew on Alexei’s face, contorting his fledgling beard into a mess of hair and flesh. He handled his pistol a bit, ejecting the cartridge and checking its contents: a single lead bullet.

The sight of that miniscule projectile sparked a fear that slowly built up. It was a curious thing how such a small piece of metal could be so deadly. I had seen plenty of evidence of its effectiveness on organic bodies: Human and ponies. It was a sight that nopony —or nobody— deserved to witness. Regardless of my growing worry I maintained a straight face with the man.

Sokolov inserted the magazine back into the firearm and pulled back the slide mechanism. He now wielded a live weapon. I saw in the corner of my eye some of the journalists shuffling nervously. Even some of the guards exchanged hurried whispers: If anyone had to die today it would be the Russian, they’d ensure it.

A long, tense moment passed: all of the reporters’ ears were perked; all of the guards were ready to intervene; I was ready for the man to finally lose it.

“Tell me,” he said in a thickly accented voice, “who are you?”

I felt somewhat taken aback from the question. Once more the Russian had, quite fortunately, failed to meet my expectations. As a result however I found myself searching for an answer that wouldn’t come.

Alexei didn’t wait for me. “Your princess could not send her favorite student? That Sumerechnaya Iskra or Twilight Sparkler or whatever her name is. Too busy?” His words dripped with so much spite, more so than I thought possible even from a human.

Never averting his eyes from his weapon, his grimace changed to a malicious smirk. “I know the real reason: She wants to protect her little malishku so she could not see what really happens outside of her shell. Twilight would never believe that people really do not want to be ponies if their lives depended on it; not unless she saw it with her own eyes.”

I found myself blinking in surprise at Sokolov’s cool disposition. He had given the same reasoning that my superiors had given me for choosing me in this particular task. It was clear that he either had a good sense of the Equestriani politics that had been going back in Canterlot or had an incredible ability to deduce. Either way it surprised me how he came to this conclusion, considering how little of the inner turmoil back in Equestria managed to get out. It had been quite a feat for the court to suppress it as much as it did. A few demonstrations here and there and some ambassadors stepping down but for the most part the populace in the old Equestriani territories was quite unaware of what really went on outside the barrier. I wouldn’t discount that even the Bearers weren’t in the know, considering some of their... speeches.

Looking back at some of the presentations that the bureaus showed to newcomers before the process I couldn’t believe how insensitive the voice-overs from the Bearers had been; they caused more people to turn away from the bureaus than attract—a real disaster in public relations. Anypony who stayed and lived with humans for more than a few days came to realize that the Crown’s representation of humanity was grossly inaccurate and bigoted. Even the Bearers would turn against the court if they knew. If only…

I shook myself out of my temporary trance and focused on the Russian before me. “Regardless of who is making the offer,” I retorted, “it still stands: it is your choice.”

Sokolov’s body shook with a mirthless laugh sending some of the dust coating his clothes flying in the air. A few seconds of laughter later he finally turned to face me, bags under his dark, dulled eyes and his face full of cracks and wrinkles. While I was familiar enough with humans to guess their age, Sokolov proved difficult; his voice sounded strong and young but his face proved otherwise. Likely the last few weeks have been unkind to him and added several years to his face.

“Choice?” he mocked, letting out another short chuckle. “Da, vibor. A good choice: death by my hand, death by magic or death to give life to a besmosgly truten!”

Even without knowing the meaning of those two last words I could tell that they were less than polite terms judging by the tone. And as vulgar as he was, he was right. The choice offered by the bureaus was, in all essence, the same that I was offering him albeit more publicized. This was meant to be ‘the final conversion’, a media stunt schemed by the court to help quell the remaining outrage back home. The way they saw it, when faced with extinction, this Russian would yield his humanity and accept the conversion. That’s why there were so many journalists, they wanted to ensure that every possible picture could be taken, ‘the final rescue’; as disgustingly degraded as it was, it would’ve made for a good story.

I assumed a tall pose and addressed him. “Rest assured sir, I will not stand by idly and watch you die.” That was only half true: I really didn’t want him to die, though one way or another, this ‘choice’ would’ve brought one more death.

Alexei cocked his bushy eyebrow. “Oh? You mean to tell me that you actually care about me?”

I hesitated for a long moment—longer than I could allow. “Yes. Yes I do.”

“Erunda!” he spat, wildly waving his gun. “You lie! If you cared you would be crying not over my death but the death of my kin!”

For the briefest moment I feared for my life, as he drew various beads at my general direction with the pistol. The guards motioned each other to intervene but I ordered them to stand down. I doubted that Alexei would actually make an attempt on my life; I knew enough about humans that they were above senseless death.

He snorted at the reaction of the guards. “Do you think that I am afraid to die?”

Returning my attention to him I addressed him. “It is not my place to say,” I replied sharply, “but I know that that isn’t true: everyone is afraid of death, even you.”

Sokolov’s face screwed up into a sulk; I could tell I touched a sensitive spot seeing how he fell silent. The spell of silence didn’t last for long however as he directed his attention back to his handgun.

“It was my grandfather’s,” he said partially to himself, referring to the firearm. “Syem shyestdyesyat millimyetrov Samozaryadnyj Pistolet Tokareva obraztsa odna tisyacha dyevyatsot goda, or the TT-33. He was issued with this weapon during his service in the Second World War.”

The Russian paused, looking back at the gun in question. Quite suddenly he let out a loud, shuddering sob as he caressed and handled it with great care. Facing me once more I didn’t see the same face of before, that of a man who had nothing left to lose and who wasn’t afraid; no, this time I saw the image of a broken man, tears rolling down the cracks and creases of his chiseled cheeks.

“This,” he continued, his voice now adopting a shaky edge, “is the only thing left of my family other than my memories. Everything that was once my family’s has been lost, lost to that stena smerti of yours! And everything else as well: My nation’s history, culture, that of other countries. Thousands of years of history just simply erased! Razrushennyj! Stertyj! Do you realize that?”

“I do, and I am very sorry for your loss—”

“My loss?!” Sokolov yelled, rising from his sitting position to his full height: An impressive stance, even for a human. “This is a loss for you, for your kind, for this world, for this reality! Don’t you see? Never again, for the rest of time, will there be another humanity. If we died by ourselves something would have remained! Something always remains. That is why we know of our ancestors’ history and of their achievements, because something remained to make sure they would never be forgotten!

“But that”—he gestured to the barrier in the distance growing closer—“that will destroy everything. I am the only remnant of my kind. This gun, that tent, my clothes: They all have their history and they carry our legacy. And by the end of the day none of it will survive, no matter what I do. Can you even understand what I’m faced with?”

I do, a voice in me cried. I cannot imagine your pain, but I understand it.

I was working hard to keep a straight face and from tearing up; not only were we witnessing the tragic ending to an ancient species, but we were exploiting it for the Crown’s needs. To make a slightly moving story; to trivialize the death of a history several millennia old.

It sickened me to no end.

Blinking as much as I could to keep the tears at bay, I bit my lips. “M-mister Sokolov. I understand this is a very difficult time for you, and I realize that none of your possible choices are ideal, but trust me when I say this: None of us here wishes you to die a horrible death. We shall never forget you or your race. Your history shall survive in our memories. You will be remembered.”

Alexei’s eyes, glistening from his earlier tears, lit up, if ever so slightly. “Tell me,” he said softly, “what is your name little one?”

My name?

I gave it to him in a quiet whisper. I didn’t want the journalists to publish it if things went sour.

He gave a small nod. “It is a very nice name. Not original, but all of your names are like that.”

I could’ve sworn I saw a minute smile form on his face.

“Ma’am!” a gruff voice called—one of the pegasus guards. “The barrier’s almost here!”

With a new sense of urgency I quickly readdressed the Russian. “Your time is running out, you need to make your choice—now.”

In a stark contrast to my hurry he simply took the time to observe his handgun again. After what felt like an eternity he spoke up.

“I already know that I will not drink that yad, all I need to decide is how I shall die…”

Moments of inner deliberation passed before he shot another question my way: “Will those zhurnalisty”—he motioned to the reporters—“record whatever happens to me?”

I found myself stumbling for the right answer; yes, they’d write down everything and take pictures, no matter the outcome. Whether or not it’d become a public story however… that depended. “Y-yes. They will write of your actions. They will take pictures, no matter what.”

Sokolov nodded sagely, his gaze fixed once more on his weapon. “If that is the case, then I want to ensure that you all will never forget me.”

In one swift motion his arm swung back, winding up for a throw, and sent the handgun airborne. It flew through the air, eventually falling at the encroaching barrier. The metal weapon disintegrated as it passed through the wall of magic, disappearing into thin air. No trace of it remained, as if it had never existed.

Every pony present wore shock on their muzzles. Sokolov’s own expression conveyed resolution.

“I shall not give your princesses,” he spat, charging the words with as much malice as he could, “the satisfaction of a quiet death. If they want to see the result of their work, I shall oblige them!”

I couldn’t believe it. He chose the difficult death. Defiant till the very end. In a certain light it would’ve been seen as courageous. At that moment, I found the act insane.

“M-mister Alexei!” I cried out, “you will die a horrible death if you let the barrier reach you!”

His collected face radiated so much calm that it felt surreal. “I realize that,” he said cooly. “I’ve seen what happened to people who touched the stena smerti. I…” He cast his gaze away, eyes closed. “I still have nightmares of that wall… But I must do this.”

“B-but sir! You don’t have to do this, you don’t deserve to suffer anymore!”

“Listen little dyubimya,” he murmured, kneeling down to my eye level, “I shall suffer, one way or another. I have to do this. I must punish your princesses for their actions. I do not wish to punish anyone of you here, but it is the only way for me to accomplish it.”

Stroking my mane, he gently pulled me into a heartwarming hug. I returned the embrace and we felt nothing but our own hearts beating and our breaths. In a soft whisper Sokolov apologized: “I am so sorry little one. You do not need to see this. None of you do.”

That tore at my heart. It just went to show how amazing humans were. Even when we had taken everything that the man held dear to him, he was caring enough and had enough integrity to try to shield others from a gruesome sight.

As admirable as his thoughts were, my obligations forced my hoof.

“I… I must.” I sobbed. “I cannot walk away, none of us can. Those are our orders.”

I felt one of his tear drops fall on my coat as he pulled me in closer ever so slightly.

“You are a brave little lemi. I wish your kind was more like you.”

With a heavy sigh he finally broke the hold and stood up once again. He splayed his arms outwards, as if ready to embrace the wall, defiantly staring back at imminent death without a sign of fear.

I stepped backwards to give him the space he needed. He deserved to have his personal space respected for his final moments. I looked on sadly at the soon-to-be martyr, wishing for a possible alternative. He acknowledged my inner turmoil and gave me a sincere smile; the first real grin I’ve seen on him. I knew it was his way to ease my mind but it only tugged at my heart even harder. As beautiful as his smile was, it just tore me apart.

The barrier advanced up the slope and had already engulfed the guards and reporters. As it rose up from below my hooves, I felt a familiar tingling sensation, sending a shiver down the length of me. I took a deep breath and looked on, bracing myself for the worst.

It soon surpassed me and came up rapidly to Alexei. He gave a final, bold shout before it made contact with him:

“Da zdravstvuet chelovechestvo!”

Then it struck.

The magical energy surged from the grass, eating away at his mud-coated hiking boots and his feet. Much to my horror it was quick acting. Almost immediately Sokolov let out the loudest and most terrifying cry of pain that I have ever heard, his eyes widened in horror-struck astonishment and his arms making to grab at his destroyed feet.

He never would reach them.

With his feet literally disintegrating into nothing, the Russian’s body sank towards the earth, pulled down by gravity, bringing down the rest of his body to the deadly edge of magic that kept rising. His legs fell through and met the same fate as his feet. His hands and arms, still in the same motion to grab the now non-existent feet, were next. His torso and upper body fell victim as soon as the legs were completely gone. At this point his lungs disappeared, cutting the man’s scream short. He kept falling, and the last thing to fall through the barrier was his disembodied head.

The last thing that his terrified eyes saw were my own, his gaze of suffering and outright terror burned into mine. And then his head was gone. The whole process had taken no more than a few seconds.

Alexei Sokolov, the last man on Earth, had died.

I felt ill. I knew about the effects that the magical energies had on organic beings, but I had never witnessed it in person. In scientific and arcane terms, the process was of morbid fascination. In all other contexts however, it was a crime—a horrible, horrible crime.

I felt unclean. My conscience would never again rest easy, I felt responsible for his grisly demise, no matter how untrue it was. I had a chance to save him.

No, I soberly realized, I never had the chance to save him: what they wanted me to do was to kill him either way.

And I just accomplished that. Not in the manner that the Crown intended but I still did it. The only difference was that quelling the protests would be more of a chore.

The reporters spoke hurriedly amongst themselves: apparently one of them managed to capture the image of Sokolov falling through the barrier.

“There’s no chance in Tartarus that it’ll get published,” I heard somepony say.

“Good thing too, sweet Celestia, that sent shivers down my spine.”

“Luna bless him. He didn’t deserve that.”

I said nothing. I just stood there, tearfully watching the spot where the man stood. Nothing remained, not even his tent or footprints. Anyone who’d come up to this mountain would be none the wiser of today’s events.

And it wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair!

I collapsed onto the ground, crying away like a newborn foal. Some of the reporters came to comfort me but I wouldn’t acknowledge them. They didn’t know of the gravity of what they had just witnessed. They couldn’t, none of them had ever been with humans for a significant amount of time, not like me.

My shed tears would ultimately be pointless. There was no one to shed tears for; they were all gone.

Forever.