Aporia

by Oliver

Rating: teen
Tags: Original Character, Mystery, Spike, Shining Armor, Human, Main 6, Lyra, Drama, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, My Little Pony Comic
Length: 148377

Once upon a time, if the term even applies, two young ladies decided to visit an Equestria, selected seemingly at random. Which would be nothing special, despite their attitudes towards ponies being so different, if one hadn't mentioned sandwiches...

Once upon a time, (if the term even applies) two young ladies, (if that adjective even applies) decided to visit a magical land of Equestria, selected seemingly at random from about a million.

One of the two is a time traveler deprived of her time machine, the other is an eldritch abomination out of her element.

One would prefer the world of pastel-colored ponies to stay as it is, and can’t help but alter it. The other one is anxious to see how it can change, and can’t help but maintain it.

Both believe that this is not their story. But while they disturb the delicate world of ponies, they don’t even notice ponies doing the same to them.

Sandwiches are involved somehow.

There are many things this story is and some things it isn’t.

It’s not a fix fic, no matter what some of the characters think. It’s written in multiple first person narration, which happened for a pointlessly clever reason, that will eventually become quite obvious. It’s not a crossover, it just comes with an unhealthy amount of backstory. It could be a rational-fic, but since idealistic philosophy is typically not seen as very rational, it’s only a philoso-fic instead. It’s quite meta, in the original definition of metafiction: fiction concerned with fiction as a concept. In any case, it’s either a small monument to overthinking things – I’m trying to reexamine many fanon ideas here – or a digital paperweight, I’m not sure which. It’s quite a bit more subtle than it could be, and everyone talks way too much when they should be having glorious adventures.
I know how it starts, I know how it ends, and most of what happens in between. Readers say it’s a slow burner, but we’ll get there eventually.

Acknowledgements

With special thanks to my editors, Thainen, Shrink Laureate, and MitchH.
Further special thanks to ScarletWeather and Themaskedferret for valuable input.
The artist who made the cover image stubbornly wishes to remain uncredited, but thanks to her anyway.

Published 2016-01-22 20:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2022-03-03 22:32:42 UTC

Conversation 2: Shining Armor

As the Captain of the Royal Guard, I don’t have to stand watch. I don’t have to personally inspect it either, but from time to time I insist to do both. This can be a boring job, and I won’t inflict on any of my guardsponies anything I’m not ready to do myself. Which was the particular reason I happened to be at the doors to the throne room right after Princess Celestia called a court recess for tea and this whole nonsense happened.

Imagine, if you will, Nightmare Moon, as she is depicted in the ancient illuminated manuscripts, or at least somepony with a similar coloration and imposing air of beautiful but deadly threat. Add a much less predatory, but still way too smug expression onto her face, like that of a cat who knows precisely where you keep the cream. Give her a really long, straight, undulating, transparent mane, the kind our royal highnesses or Nightmare Moon herself wore – that’s where the association came from, I think – but in glowing fire ruby red. Now give this something the overall body structure of a minotaur, or at least something bipedal, so that it always stands rampant, towering over even the tallest ponies, taller than Celestia herself. Color the face white, and only the face – the rest is clad in a dress of the darkest black, darker than coal and soot, with a row of round golden buttons down the oddly bulging chest. What you must have imagined by now looks nothing like what I saw, but it translates the impression I got perfectly: Something wicked this way comes, and I’m the party paladin.

It should be obvious that my first, instinctive reaction was putting up a shield bubble, and it completely blocked the corridor even before my guardsponies finished readying their spears. “Halt,” I said confidently.

But the creature kept advancing along the empty corridor, and the moment she was at the shield, she calmly stepped through like it wasn’t there. Or rather, like she wasn’t there, because I could clearly see her dissolve into particles of black and red and reform just inside the boundary, without even breaking stride. She stopped a few steps away from me and said, waving a box in her hand like this was perfectly normal, “I’m sorry I came uninvited, but hey, I brought cake.”

I honestly couldn’t find an appropriate answer to that. Just how do you respond when a heretofore unknown creature – one that distinctly gives you the impression of Nightmare Moon, to boot – waltzes up to you, ignores your best spell like it’s so much newspaper, and then mentions cake?

“…What?!”

Yeah, maybe like that.

She looked straight into my eyes and adjusted her mane, as if she were looking into a mirror, and I took a good view of her eyes. Dark green, and somehow reflecting the lights of a city that clearly isn’t there. “You really did nothing to deserve the Worf effect, Shining Armor, sorry about that,” she said, suddenly. “I’ll try to make it up to you somehow. Anyway. Are any of their highnesses in, or should I come later?”

I was almost about to ask what a Worf effect was – I need to send my sister a letter and find out if she knows, I suppose, – but was interrupted by the creak of the doors behind me, and Celestia’s voice. “What happened, Captain?” This startled me so much that I actually dropped the shield. Not that there was any point keeping it up.

“We… ahem, we have a visitor,” I said, not taking my eyes off the creature. “It seems they brought …cake.”

“Which would be perfect for tea, wouldn’t it, Shining?” Celestia said. I could almost hear the smile, though of course I couldn’t see it. “Invite our guest in, then,” she added, and I distinctly heard the sound of the door opening fully.

The creature looked at me, bending down slightly, as if waiting for me to let her pass, and I had no choice but to do as I was bid. “Follow me, please,” I said, turning around and following the princess into the throne room, all the while throwing glances across my back at the nameless horror. The nameless horror was following, and soon, the doors quietly closed behind us.

Celestia kept walking back towards her throne, where a small table with tea things was set up for her, and I kept thinking how needlessly big and open the throne room is. Whoever designed it in the ancient times probably thought that if any enemy ever managed to get all the way in here, no defenses will stop them. Unfortunately, in recent years, the few threats we actually get are the kind that start from the throne room and work their way down. Like Nightmare Moon herself. Not to mention Discord. The latter was the most embarrassing failure the Royal Guard has been party to in the last hundred years, and to know it happened on my watch is even more painful than knowing we couldn’t actually do a thing. Even if our charge actually believed it necessary to inform us of the particulars of what everypony believed to be an ancient piece of ugly artwork.

“What should I call you, and where do you come from, stranger?” Celestia said, taking a glance at the horror. I must admit that in the throne room proper, she didn’t look quite as threatening. Possibly, because the comparatively much more cramped corridor leaves far less space to maneuver.

“The name is Rika, your Grand Royal Highness,” the creature said. She looked like she was about to continue.

Celestia interrupted her immediately. “A simple ‘your highness’ or ‘princess’ is more than sufficient. Sometimes, more than is proper.”

“Well, if you say so,” Rika grinned, showing off a row of teeth, with short, but worryingly pointy canines. “I’m of a species called human… or was once, at least. I don’t think you have any here, except my friend Mary down in Ponyville, and she came with me. ‘Another world’ will have to do for the description of ‘where,’ for the moment, because it’s not any of the ones you might know. We’re way too far outside your context to give a more meaningful description in reasonable time.”

The princess smirked at Rika over her back, curled up on one of the pillows beside the tea table, and levitated another pillow for her …guest. “Maybe a bit closer than you think. At least, I believe I have a fair idea of what kind of being you are, though I’d rather hear it in your own words.”

I took this as my cue to stand at attention by the wall. If this discussion turns less amicable, that will be my time to shine… or make an ass of myself, which feels more likely, but if I don’t have the heart to try, I might as well resign right now. When Rika unwrapped her cardboard box, I tensed a bit. I’m not sure what I really expected would be inside, except delicious-looking chocolate cake, but evidently, that was all.

“It would be …difficult,” Rika said. “I often get mistaken for a librarian, but I’m not, I just live there. The most fancy sounding thing I was ever called was ‘The Reader of Last Resort,’ but to explain what that means would require a few hours. The word ‘witch’ is right out, you use it for something else. A magical girl? You don’t seem to have those. I’ve got a lovely, short explanation, that hinges on the derivation of the word ‘monster’ in a language I’m pretty sure you don’t speak. It’s a context problem,” she said, pulling on an embarrassed smile.

“Well, it’s good enough for me, all things considered,” Celestia snickered, levitating a cup and the teapot towards Rika. “What brings you to Equestria, then?”

“Thank you,” Rika muttered, looking into the cup, now full of tea, and observing Celestia levitating the pre-cut pieces of cake. “It’s… Well, it’s an experiment, of sorts. I want to know what my friend can learn here, and possibly, what she might teach ponies. It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, I’m afraid. I was kind of hoping you could treat this as a foreign student exchange incident, and elected to make my introductions in person before the news reaches you otherwise, to make this less of a surprise.”

“Oh? Have you really done anything that would require forgiveness?” Celestia said, taking a whiff of a levitating piece of cake. …If it’s poisoned, I’ll never forgive myself, that’s for sure. If the princess can even be poisoned, that is.

“Other than coming uninvited and intruding upon your precious break time, no.” Rika smiled, discreetly grabbing a fork off the table. Kitchen staff always insists the Princess must eat confectionery in a proper and dignified manner and supplies her with utensils. She never uses them. It has been something of a private conflict that is actually older than my job. Legend has it, it escalates to a proper food fight once every generation, to the embarrassment of all concerned parties. “But being polite hurts nobody,” Rika added, biting the cake off the fork.

“At the very least you have great taste in desserts,” the princess commented after taking a bite of her cake.

Rika chuckled, “Not really. This is just cake, in so far as I remember cake. Seeing that it meets with your approval, though… Have I shown enough goodwill for you to permit me an impolite question?”

Celestia actually giggled at that. “I shudder to think what could you ask, after such a roundabout buildup.”

“On the dawn of the Summer Sun Celebration and the day immediately preceding it,” Rika said with a curious smile, “how many ponies in the crowd in Ponyville were reporting to you?”

…What is she talking about?! It’s definitely classified information, but I can’t even think why would anypony want to know that now!

“Not counting Twilight Sparkle, I presume?” Celestia asked. “You have to know that I have charged her with inspecting the preparations for the festivities.”

Rika nodded. “Naturally.”

“One,” Celestia replied. Rika raised her eyebrows, and the princess countered, “Why would you expect more?”

Rika bit her lip, apparently, in thought. “I’m trying to discern between three likely alternatives – that you have so much control of your world that you can tune it like a piano, that you’ve gambled the fate of Equestria on random chance, or that you’re aware of who the main characters of your story are,” she said finally. “Since you said ‘one,’ the first one is out, because the answer would either be ‘none’ or ‘all of them.’ It’s too low for the second one, because nobody accepting such a gamble could resist hedging their bets. That only leaves the third, and makes me wonder why am I crashing your tea break now, and not the reverse.”

“Are there any other alternatives?” Celestia inquired. “Twilight is, without a doubt, the heroine of her own story. But for all the virtues of my favorite student, the world does not start or end with her. I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

“The world is a story, about people, told in words, across time. That is true of every world that exists,” Rika said, with strong conviction in her voice. “And like in every story, million to one chances come out nine times out of ten. Not for everyone. Just for some people.”

Celestia fell silent, and spent more than a few seconds sipping her tea before answering. “My little ponies believe that a miracle is something unexpected, almost impossible. But over the centuries, I have found that in times of great need, the power of true friendship can make a miracle inevitable. Given time and opportunity, harmony can take care of itself. All I really needed to do was to ensure it’s not deliberately obstructed before it blossoms. To think of what happened in terms of characters and plot seems …so incredibly detached.”

“I suppose it is,” Rika shrugged, “I should say that your way of thinking is just as alien to me. But I usually don’t go to places where true harmony can be found.”

“You’re not aiming to make me worry, are you?” the Princess said curiously.

“No, I’m just hoping to actually see it in action for once,” Rika said, smiling and standing up. “I must apologize, but we will have more opportunities to talk in the future. I have to go, while you have other duties, I’m sure.”

“Wait,” the Princess said. While she did not bat an eyelid, a faint hint of steel in her voice was quite evident. “Before you leave, answer a question of mine, if you will.”

Rika faced Celestia, relaxed, as if this was a completely regular occurrence. Trust me, it isn’t. “Of course.”

“You have revealed what your friend is to do here, and it could meet with nothing but my approval.” Celestia stated calmly. “But what is it that you, yourself, came for? Forgive me this show of mistrust, but my position is surely no surprise.”

The grin that came in response to that was slightly disconcerting. “I did say it was an experiment, didn’t I. Have you ever encountered a situation where you can do anything, and yet, none of it will do the least bit of good?”

The Princess slanted her ears down slightly. “More often than you would expect.”

“Welcome to the club, your highness,” Rika replied. “I’m the president. Mary, on the other hand… She does nothing and then everything just happens. Me, I’m just a plot device. And a reader.”

I’m not stupid. I wouldn’t make Captain if I were, shields or no, and back in school I was considered more than a bit of a nerd. But this entire exchange flew so far over my head that I felt like a total idiot. It’s a given that no amount of training prepares one for that nonsense, but the Princess takes it like it’s absolutely normal. Maybe it is, when you’re centuries old…

“All who come in peace are welcome in Equestria,” Celestia told the monster. “Don’t hesitate to visit me again. Indeed, we have much to talk about.”

“Sometime after I’m done settling my friend in, surely. We certainly aren’t something to alter your schedule over,” said Rika, before making a bow – I think it was a bow, though it was a motion so entirely unlike one a pony would make that I could not be sure – and vanishing in a white flash.

For a while, everything was quiet, except for the sound of the princess slurping her tea rather more noisily than she would if we weren’t alone in the room. “What a ridiculous combination… I wonder, what would Radiant say,” Celestia finally said with a hint of sadness in her voice, as if to herself.

“Pardon me, Princess, but… are you talking about that …human?”

“Not quite, Shining… Haven’t you figured out what she is? I asked her to explain it in her own words mostly for your benefit. She didn’t do a very good job, but it was actually clearer than what I expected,” she said, looking straight at me with that unsettling expression she uses when looking at Twilight. That is, when she wants you to solve a puzzle that far exceeds the powers of your intellect, and you feel pitiful that you can’t please her. I imagine Twily feels like this very often. I’ve seen some of her letters.

“All I can see is a threat I can’t even quantify,” was my reply.

Celestia just shook her head. “Try not to antagonize an alien princess bearing cake.”

“…princess?!” The notion that this creature could be one seemed about as absurd as giving the title to Discord, but only briefly. After all, even though Nightmare Moon was not quite Princess Luna, you couldn’t exactly deny the same title to her. The idea of an evil princess you’d need to save a dragon from feels incredibly disturbing, though. I wish I could be sure this is just a silly misconception…

“Send for parchment and a quill, please. I need to write a letter to your sister before continuing with today’s schedule. And by the way, just how long are you going to keep her in the dark about your upcoming wedding, hmm?” she said, throwing a meaningful glance at me.

“It’s not the kind of news you bring in a letter, Princess! And I want to make it a surprise!” I exclaimed. “I even have a vacation day saved to go and tell her in person.”

Celestia just smiled at me and said in a mysterious tone, “Be careful with surprises, Shining…” but switched gears just as mysteriously. “Do try the cake, it’s nice.”

There are two things in life that will forever remain mysterious to me. Alicorns and mares. And sometimes it’s not about my bride-to-be.

All alicorns that exist are mares, there’s got to be a connection.

Conversation 3: Twilight Sparkle

“I’m not fictional!” I exclaimed, sitting up and staring at the creature before me. The initial fit of bouncing had already passed, and I was feeling slightly ashamed of it, but further conversation did little to calm me down.

The creature told me that it – she – was of a species called human, that her name was Mary – which initially confused me because I thought she misspoke – and if nothing else, she was unlike anything else I’ve ever read about or seen myself. Except minotaurs, but the only thing she really had in common with them was upper body skeletal kinematics. She did have hands like a minotaur would, with five thin, fragile-looking bony fingers, and the rest of her appendages looked just as thin and fragile. The idea that something frail like this could be related to apes, as she implied, sounded silly. Much of the detail was obscured by her dress, which covered almost every inch, and looked like something Rarity might make if you tell her that she must make something fabulous without ever using any bright colors – dark purple velvet, with a respectable amount of white ruffle and even a few bows. This hypothetical human-Rarity actually succeeded, but somehow, the human managed to make it look almost mundane anyway.

Her hind legs… wait, just legs, you only call one set of limbs ‘legs’ on bipeds… were plantigrade, like those of dragons and rabbits, which was a little painful to watch. I’m used to seeing Spike move, but it looked unnatural on something so much larger and so unlike a dragon otherwise. Sitting on the cushion was clearly not very comfortable for her. Even the paws, assuming she did have paws, and not hooves, like most sapient species of Equestria, were covered with long, glistening boots. Only the hands and head remained exposed, faintly pinkish skin with no sign of a coat. The long, straight, tidy and slightly wavy yellowish blonde mane framed a surprisingly pony-like face, despite the almost complete absence of a protruding muzzle. If you look from the front, you might not even notice how different it really is, until you realize you can’t see the ears at all. All in all, it looked like somepony tried to make a caricature by expressing pony features in a creature otherwise not at all related, putting a face and clothing on something that normally has nothing to do with either, like a young gnarly tree from Everfree with its bark torn entirely off.

What was most unsettling about her, however, were the shiny mismatched eyes, a bit on the small side – one, a very normal looking, pale blue, the other, a bright gold, with a ragged-looking pupil, turning slightly out of sync with the blue one.

And while this creature was saying the most exciting things for the past twenty minutes, that last statement of hers actually topped all of them.

“There’s nothing wrong with being fictional,” Mary replied, waving a finger in the air. “In fact, I’m exactly as fictional as you are.” She paused to take a sip of the tea I made her. It’s so surprising that someone from another world even knows what tea is, let alone has strong opinions on how it should be brewed! “You’re laboring under an assumption that being part of a story precludes one from being real. This assumption is baseless. In fact, being real implies being part of a story.”

I tried to compose my thoughts. “Okay… I’m not sure I understand you correctly, so let me describe what I think you meant. Suppose I wrote a story about one of my friends, say, Rainbow Dash… oh, wait, you don’t know her, she’s a pegasus pony… well, it doesn’t matter.”

Mary fidgeted quietly, but I continued, “…and in that story, Rainbow Dash, after weeks of clumsy courtship, succeeded in pursuing a romance with another one of my friends, Applejack. Which is about as nonsensical as it gets… wait, what’s so funny?” It definitely looked like a desperately stifled fit of laughter, unless I’m ponymorphizing her too much.

“Nothing, nothing! Please continue,” Mary answered, quickly hiding her face behind another sip of her tea.

“So as I was saying, suppose I wrote that story. Rainbow Dash would now also become a fictional character. But it still wouldn’t change the relationship between the real Rainbow Dash and Applejack. Are you really saying that the opposite would be true? Because I’m sure that writing such a story would just make them both think I’m crazy. That would be a powerful spell, if it existed, but magic doesn’t work like that!” At least, I’m pretty sure that it doesn’t. It has some uncanny resemblance to how certain complex spells are targeted, but nothing beyond that…

“You would not suggest this example if you knew that multiple worlds where this relationship is romantic already exist. At least one that is otherwise almost identical to yours likely does,” Mary replied with a thinly concealed triumphant smile. “It’s just not the world you live in. The Rainbow Dash from that world is distinct from the one you know, but she is just as real. I could find her, bring her here, and both of you would only notice the difference when hanging out with Applejack. It would be a disaster, because two instances of Rainbow Dash would immediately start arguing about which one is more awesome, but it’s quite possible. Assuming I can find the way back here and convince her to read, both of which would be problematic… you know, miss Sparkle, if I had a camera with me, I would take a picture of you right now.”

By that point, I was hiding my face behind my hooves in horror, hoping that the mental image of multiple Sonic Rainbooms flattening Ponyville would go away. “…It has to be a prank. This has Pinkie written all over it.” There’s no way Mary can know Rainbow, without Rainbow proudly announcing the discovery of an unknown species at least to our little circle. And there’s no way she can know all those little details from hearsay without me seeing her in town at least once. I mostly mentioned Pinkie in an effort to stave off the inevitable. Actually, a creature from another world reading a story about ours feels relatively normal, compared to everything that happened since I came to Ponyville. The real source of shock is how personal this whole thing is.

“Pinkamena Diane Pie is at least a little metafictionally aware, but don’t you think this would be a bit too subtle for her?” Mary replied nonchalantly. “And before you ask how do I know these things, well, I have already told you, and this is exactly what I meant to say. In my home world, some variations of yours are accessible as works of fiction, with which I have a passing familiarity. In the exact same way, other worlds are accessible as works of fiction in yours.”

I wonder if that also means that there’s a world where Daring Do is real… Breathe. In and out. Treat this as a scholarly argument, because that’s exactly what it is. She certainly seems to want it to be. Actually, how exactly does dragonfire mail work internally? Could it possibly be, that all my friendship reports, with all the details and diagrams, get duplicated in transit and end up on the desk of some human fiction writer? It might contradict the experience she reports, but it certainly would fit the facts I can personally observe.

Stop it. I must not assume my debate opponent is lying, that’s got to be impolite in any world. It is only prudent to assume she might be mistaken, but I must also allow that I can be mistaken, too. I spent some time thinking, during which Mary just kept sitting there and quietly watching me, before I finally decided on a way to poke a hole in her theory, “So suppose we’re both fictional. I’m not agreeing with you yet, but let’s suppose we are. Who writes these stories?”

Mary shrugged, which looked surprisingly pony-ish, if more than a bit subdued. “As far as I know, everyone. Rika insists that a single ‘real world’ does not exist. Just like you might write a story about humans, so a human might write a story about ponies. Thinking a story in detail is enough for it to exist, writing down is not required. There are indications that every sapient creature, at the very least, narrates itself, regardless of whether other narrations exist. I’m still surprised there are only about five quintillion distinct stories, and even less distinct worlds, but that much I know from a reliable source.”

The ultimate, unimaginable temptation for me, five quintillion stories. “How exactly do you travel between them? Is it a spell? A magical device? Can you teach me? Oh, please say you can teach me!” It was hard to keep myself from bouncing throughout this conversation, and the idea of a library containing everything was almost too much.

Mary stared into her cup, looking at the remainder of her tea. “It’s… a contagion process. Someone who already has the ability has to take you out of your home story. Sometimes, people just fall out, nobody is sure why. Once this happens, getting out deliberately feels like putting down a very engrossing book, you just stop reading. Which can be pretty difficult. Getting back to the place you left is much harder, even if you can find the exact story you came from, and it’s not a skill I have mastered yet. So if you’re asking me to teach you, it would be a one-way trip, I can’t teach you to return. Which is why bringing another Rainbow Dash here is mostly theoretical. Rika can do it, but she will cite any number of good reasons to refuse.”

She looked at me with a smile and added, “It makes no particular difference if you agree with me or not, but I thought I’d get this out of the way. Pinkie Pie will probably be here with either a party or a lynch mob any moment, and this might make further conversation very difficult for quite a while. You still haven’t told me who invented the sandwich.”

I mentally dismissed the comment about a lynch mob – humans are very unusual, but don’t seem any more threatening than griffons – and looked around the shelves. The library collection has a lot of books on history, but culinary history is not a subject they cover often. “It’s going to take some time, I need to research that. Why is this so important?”

“There’s a lot about a story that stays outside the margins of a work of fiction accessible within another story, particularly when our worlds are so different,” Mary replied. “The sandwich is just the first question I need an answer for to formulate a hypothesis, I’m going to have many more for you.”

“Is that what an ‘extreme historian’ does? You seek answers to extremely obscure historical questions?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. Could it be that at least some gestures actually are universal? Oh, wait. This world-as-fiction theory explains it away. Our languages, even most body language, would actually be the same, just because we are stories to each other. It’s not scientifically possible, it’s simply ridiculous for quadrupeds and bipeds from different worlds to have similar body language or facial expressions, let alone spoken language, but that would be her explanation. If the story was written in a language she couldn’t understand, she just wouldn’t be here, she would be unable to read it.

“It means that in my home world, I travel through time to study history, and sometimes, alter it,” Mary explained. “Rika regularly complains that she had a hard time finding me, because the world changed so much that it’s unrecognizable. That’s an exaggeration, of course.”

And yet another surprise that almost gets me to jump and bounce in circles. “So you can do time magic? Without a horn?” Magic from another world!

“In most human worlds, magic is just a mythical idea, mine is one of those. Makes for an environment radically different from yours…” Mary said, which replaced my excitement for new magic with a completely different reason to be excited. A world with no magic? Seriously? Time travel with no magic? But how? “But crazy-advanced physics might as well be magic, and I have a time machine back at home. Less convenient than one of your spells, but more effective.”

“Can history really be changed?” I asked. “Last time I tried to go back in time to change history, I just caused everypony no end of bother by trying to warn myself not to worry.” I shuddered, mostly because I remembered how I kept asking more and more questions without even giving my future self time to answer. “Not a week I’d like to repeat.” Not a week I can repeat, unless I manage to fix the spell, thankfully. Strange, it was only a few weeks ago, and yet, it already feels like an eternity. I wonder if time travel always feels this way…

“Sometimes it can, sometimes it can’t, sometimes it falls apart if you so much as sneeze in the general vicinity. It really depends on the particular individuals who made the history you want to alter,” Mary said, and added, after a pause, “Fortunately, I have an eye for these things.”

Does she mean her odd eye, or is it just an expression?… How exactly does changing history work? What happens to history that has been changed? “Are you planning to stay in Ponyville long?” I mumbled. If I think even a moment on it, I’ve abandoned so many lines of inquiry because a new one presented itself in her answer, that every single answer, detailed as it may be, just increases the number of questions. This is so frustrating! I need to stop and make a checklist of things I need to follow up on. And it needs to be a really long scroll, because I’ll be adding new things to it constantly… “I have so many questions…”

“I’m not in a hurry to go home,” Mary shrugged. “Long enough to write a book, maybe?” she grinned. “‘Travels and Researches in Equestria,’ that sounds like a title.”

“…I definitely need to write a letter to Princess Celestia about you,” I said, scanning the room for writing implements, “Where’s Spike when you need him…” Actually, I know exactly where he is. He went off to Rarity to help her with something again. Maybe we should go check on him? But I don’t want to close the library…

Mary stood up clumsily, stretching her legs, and crouched before the window by the door, looking out into the street as if searching for something. Probably looking for signs of approaching Pinkie. She’s probably just as party-averse as I was back when I first came to Ponyville… and if she stays around for a while, I need to get some chairs. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll be getting a letter about us from Princess Celestia very soon,” she said.

“How do you know?” No, really, how?

“I see Spike running here with a sealed scroll,” she replied. “I don’t think you’re in correspondence with Princess Luna too, are you?”

Was that just a guess, or does she really know what the letter is about?

Author's Note

I’m afraid the exposition will continue for a few more chapters, and will continue to break in and contaminate the narrative for the foreseeable future. At least, I’ve been trying to make sure it’s as little of the things you read a hundred times already as possible. :)

Before anyone asks, (someone observant eventually would, after this chapter) this story makes the assumption that episodes did not air in chronological order. We all know the authors of the canon don’t really care that much about keeping time straight, but if I use that excuse, I miss out on all the dramatic opportunities resulting from twisting time into pretzels.

And if my chronology theory is correct, ponies of the main cast live extremely dense lives…

Conversation 4: Spike

“Twilight! You got a letter from Princess Celestia!” I said the moment I came in, waving the scroll. I had to leave Rarity alone with an order because of it… well, I just had to leave Rarity, that’s bad enough! So it’d better be worth it. “Wait… who’re you?” I added, noticing something… someone… by the door.

A dragon in a dress? Nope. No scales, no tail, and no dragon would wear a dress. Not even a female dragon. Maybe. Definitely not a frilly dress! One of the eyes is kind of like a dragon eye. But the other one is a pony eye. What is that thing?…

And one of that thing’s hands – no talons, so it’s a hand – was shaking my claw, kind of like Pinkie does when she finds somepony new, but so much gentler. The creature had to crouch to do it. “Hello, Spike. My name is Mary. I’m a human, though I suppose that doesn’t tell you anything,” it said. The voice sounds feminine, so it’s probably a she…

“Sorry, it doesn’t,” I replied. Never even heard of humans before.

Twilight trotted up to me. “Read the letter, Spike.” An intent expression on her face if I ever saw one, did something happen? Beside someone new in town, that is.

Oh well, I do have one job… lots of jobs, but this is the important one, better get on with it. I rolled out the scroll and started reading. “Ahem… Dear Twilight! It has come to my attention, that two travelers from another world have arrived to Equestria. They call themselves ‘humans,’ and have announced their intention to learn the ways of ponies and teach us about their own. I am sure at least one of them will be knocking on your door shortly, if this has not happened already. Please make them feel welcome. This is neither an official nor a diplomatic visit, so I hope you will try to avoid any undue stress, and take things as they come. It might, nevertheless, be a valuable lesson in friendship, both for you and for them, and I look forward to anything you will have to report about it. Yours, Princess Celestia.”

“From another world? Wow,” I said, looking the human over once again. “Like, from space? Do you have a flying saucer somewhere?”

“No and no,” Mary replied, smiling and stretching back up to tower over me. “I believe the term you would use is ‘another dimension,’ though that’s not quite correct either.”

“How exactly did you know?” Twilight said, looking suspiciously at Mary. “Because I’m sure you knew.”

Mary just shrugged, “I did know that Rika, in her infinite wisdom, left me here, and went to give her regards to Princess Celestia directly. Knowing her, that probably scared off half the castle and resulted in ordering the guard to high alert. When she decides to announce herself, she can get very dramatic.”

Twilight looked a little annoyed for a moment, but then lit up with raised eyebrows and perked up ears. “Wait. This doesn’t add up. Did she teleport straight from here… all the way to Canterlot Castle?!”

Yeah, sounds like kind of a big deal. I don’t think Twilight can manage more than a mile, and she usually collapses afterwards. Actually, what’s the record? Best teleport contest sounds kinda fun, and I bet Twilight would get a ribbon, especially if the princesses don’t enter. Not that there would be a whole lot of competition, few unicorns can teleport far enough for it to be worth the effort.

“She actually left the world and went back in at a different point,” Mary corrected. “If you want to call that teleporting, then yes.”

Well, that’s a clever way to use dimensional travel. I’ll give it seven out of ten.

“Can you do that?” Twilight bounced. “…Can you teach me?”

“No, and no because the second question has the same answer as last time. I can take you out. I can’t guide you back in, miss Sparkle,” Mary responded in a flat tone of voice. Like a school teacher.

I’m not about to regret leaving to hang out with Rarity, really, I’m not. But I am dreading having to piece it together later just to understand what they’re talking about now. Ah, such is life.

“Stop it, just call me Twilight. All my friends do,” Twilight said, smiling.

“I know, Twilight,” Mary smiled back. “Though I hope you will forgive me if I won’t hurry to call anypony my friend. I am… very particular about how I use that word.”

Twilight’s smile waned a bit at that.

Suddenly, Pinkie rushed in, almost knocking me out of the way with the door. That was sort of dangerous. “Twilight, you in? Yay, you’re in!” She added a quick “Sorry, Spike!” before starting to bounce in circles around Mary without missing a beat. “And you are one of those humans! I’ve been looking all over for you, I checked every box and barrel in Sugarcube, but you weren’t there! Hi, I’m Pinkie Pie, what’s your name?”

“Mary. Hello, Pinkie Pie,” Mary replied in a flat voice, extending a hand for a handshake, and Pinkie immediately started wiggling it up and down with the usual ear-to-ear smile plastered all over her face. That smells like a party. I like Pinkie’s parties! Mary doesn’t look like she does, though…

“You need a welcome to Ponyville party!” Yep, called it. “We’regoingtohavestreamersandgamesandpunchandballoons…!”

“Pinkie,” said an unfamiliar voice from behind my back. Strange, I didn’t hear the door open this time.

“…can’tforgetballoons, oh, and music, pinthetailonthepony…”

“Pinkie.”

Mary looked at the source of the voice and waved her other hand at it, while I wondered why am I actually scared to turn around.

“…andpartyhats, oh, andIneedtomakeacakeandgetberrypunchtomakesomepunch, ahaha, seewhatIdidthere…”

“PINKAMENA DIANE PIE!” That sounded very much like the Royal Canterlot Voice. Or at least, the closest imitation you can get without actually using magic to enhance it, no wonder I was scared to turn around. It’s not Princess Luna, and I’ve never even heard of Princess Celestia using it ever since she made Twilight her student, so it has to be somepony else…

“What? Oh, I know you! I didn’t know you were in Ponyville too! What’s your name? It’s not fair to watch all the time and not tell me your name! Tell me-tell me-tell me!” Pinkie bubbled out, switching targets.

I’m not sure which was more amusing, Pinkie’s reaction of unrestrained glee, or Twilight’s look of intense surprise. At least, they gave me the courage to turn around and actually look at the source of the voice. Now that is much more like a dragon. It’s still one of those humans, and still in a dress, but wow.

“Well, I call that reading, but close enough,” the new human replied in the perfectly normal voice she started with. “Hello Twilight, hello Spike, hello Pinkie. My name is Rika,” she said, stretching a hand out towards nowhere in particular. Either Pinkie is now interdimensionally famous – now that would be a fun and scary piece of news – or there’s something extra special going on. And nobody’s going to tell me as usual. Oh well, I’ll figure it out eventually. I wouldn’t be a good assistant if that sort of thing ever stopped me.

“O-o-o-o-o-o-oh. TWO PARTIES AT ONCE!” Pinkie yelled, trying to wiggle the offered hand up and down. Somehow, she only succeeded in wiggling herself up and down against the stationary hand, which finally made me laugh out loud.

“Pinkie… just how do you know any humans?!” Twilight said, and the expression on her face did absolutely nothing to stop me from laughing.

“I think it’s a compiler bug somewhere that affects page protection and layer separation,” Rika replied, looking at Twilight and ignoring Pinkie’s wiggling. “Usually, characters who trip it go outright insane. Pinkie just got really lucky, almost all instances of her are socially acceptable,” she said, and added, looking intently at Pinkie, who was still vibrating in the air. “For suitably small values of ‘acceptable.’ Pinkie. I don’t think preparing a party while holding onto me will work.”

“…Don’t encourage her, I think she might try,” Twilight mumbled, unrolling a particularly thick scroll – the biggest we had in our supplies, I think – and writing something down. Looks like she’s planning to make the legendary checklist of all checklists. Last time she tried, she nearly had a nervous breakdown when she couldn’t decide if it should have a checkbox for itself. I never saw the problem, myself.

“In saner terms, this is what I meant by ‘metafictionally aware,’ Twilight,” Mary commented, folding her arms defensively on her chest, as if to prevent another Pinkie attack. “Pinkie Pie has some access to the underlying story structure.”

“Is that what it’s called?” Pinkie said, finally letting go of the hand and dropping on the floor face first, which actually did not wipe her wide smile off. “I had no idea!” she added, springing back up. “Party in Sugarcube Corner at six. Be there or be rhomboid!” she yelled, rushing past me and out the door. “Seriously, be there, okay?” she added, peeking back in immediately, and vanishing again.

“Wow,” Twilight breathed out, looking over the bookshelves. “She didn’t knock down even a single book…”

“Yeah, that’s got to be a first,” I added. I don’t want another unscheduled reshelving, Twilight makes enough of a mess all on her own.

Mary slumped onto a pillow. “Actually, how exactly does Pinkie Pie finance her parties?” she said. “I really wouldn’t want to commit any social infractions of that kind.”

“Oh, the usual, the regulars and anypony who wants to get invited to a future party chip in when they can. You’d be the guests of honor for this one, so don’t worry about it,” Twilight replied, levitating a couple more pillows around – one for Rika, and one more next to herself, for me. “Pinkie’s surprise parties are the most regular kind of entertainment in town, she’s been doing this for years. Would you like some tea, Rika?”

Rika grinned, showing off teeth. Meh, her teeth are kinda wimpy, I was expecting a full-on Nightmare Moon smile. “Thank you,” she said, settling on the pillow. “I trust my companion here has not bothered you too much.”

“It has been a most …intellectually stimulating discussion,” Twilight replied, pouring tea. Apparently, adopting the refined tone Rika managed to set with just one sentence took her a bit of effort. I bet Rarity will like them. “Though the statements on your origin have been quite extraordinary.”

“Origins,” Rika corrected, picking up her teacup.

“Huh?” Twilight bounced in place.

“We don’t exactly come from the same place. Just through the same door, so to speak,” Rika explained. “I am originally from a completely different story. Not that it matters.”

“Uh… why wouldn’t it matter?” Twilight said, surprised. “Even one new alien world is a fascinating discovery.”

“Every story is about people,” Rika said. “Ponies are people, too. If somehow, somewhere, someone manages to imagine a sapient species that will not be people, this might change. But since such a story would not be comprehensible, let alone interesting to anyone, I doubt this will ever happen.”

“But what about a story where ponies meet bizarre, incomprehensible space aliens, that remain incomprehensible even after it ends?” Twilight suggested. “I know at least one.” I know that one too. She used to threaten me that she would read it aloud if I don’t do my chores. The one time I decided to take her up on it, I couldn’t sleep for three days, and when Princess Celestia found out, she actually gave Twilight a Long Stern Look. Twilight still has a whole book of stories by that author, and they’re all mercifully short…

“That story isn’t about the aliens. It’s about the ponies who met them,” Rika grinned. “Plot devices do not write stories of their own. Also, Pinkie.”

Twilight actually bit her lip at that. “I’m still not sure I can accept the whole concept of every world actually being a story,” she said eventually. “I know for a fact at least one other world exists. Star Swirl’s Third Conjecture implies there are more of them, and you had to have come from somewhere. We don’t have the mathematical proof, but you are here, that’s good enough for now. I can also imagine an existing world being depicted in fiction in another one, I have a few ideas about how that could happen. But the idea that a story about a world and the world itself are actually one and the same on any level sounds preposterous. No matter how well a theory explains things, it’s wrong, if it also predicts things that can be verified to be false.”

Way to go, Twilight! It sounded very convincing. I can’t say I understood it very well, but I always loved to listen to her arguing. It’s one of those things that makes me proud to be her assistant, because she usually wins. I actually tried reading Aristrotle myself and failed, way too many difficult words and all the characters are always politely arguing about really complicated things. These humans seem a lot like them, particularly that Rika one. Twilight prefers to argue about mathematics and magical theory, though, and this argument feels like it might be more difficult for her… They haven’t said “therefore” or “if and only if” or even “necessary and sufficient” even once, so far.

Rika shook her head. “It only does this, if you believe, that by altering the words of a story, you are actually changing it. A story is not the text you are reading, just like the text is not the book. When you decide to alter an existing story, what you are actually doing is creating a new one. That’s how stories form trees.”

“Now that’s just unscientific,” Twilight said, scowling like she just ate a lemon. “A story does not have a separate existence.”

“I suppose friendship doesn’t either, then,” Rika countered, with an obviously fake innocent grin. Sheesh, she’s the rub it in type. “You know, for something rooted in the material world, it disappears surprisingly easily when you stop believing in it.”

Twilight remained silent for a few seconds, and then stared at me for some reason with a blank expression on her face. I pulled back. What, are you expecting me to belch up a letter or something? This is uncomfortable. Eventually, she sighed, looking back at the humans. “I’ve got to see this library of yours for myself.”

“I recommend you reconsider,” Rika said in a serious tone.

“Any particular reason?” Twilight asked, narrowing her eyes at the human and perking her ears up. A strand of hair popped up from her mane.

Rika smiled. “For one, there’s no catalog. At all. Well, there’s a cat, who obviously knows something. But good luck talking him into helping you find a book. Dorothy even thinks that a proper catalog would probably be a paradox, and an improper one would very quickly go out of date, that’s how Unlimited Library works. There is a certain pattern, but it’s not very useful, and it’s been deliberately broken by various parties for practical reasons. Frankly, it’s a mess, and has been a mess since forever.”

Twilight’s eyes grew wider than saucers, with pupils condensed into a tiny point. I never imagined I could see her actually horrified by the thought of a reshelving, but Rika was not finished. “Which leads to the bigger one. If I were to take you there, your favorite princess would be really mad. I don’t particularly relish the thought.”

“Why could she possibly be mad about it?!” Twilight exclaimed in genuine surprise, as another strand of hair popped up. I might have an idea…

“Because you would never want to come back,” Rika explained with a grave expression. “Would you? When there is always an option of just one more book, before you pack up and go home? Really, truly?”

Yep, called it again. It would take both Applejack and Rainbow pulling her by the tail together, I guess. Actually, Pinkie and Rarity might have to join in, and Fluttershy would have to stare her down first.

Twilight visibly deflated, hanging her ears. “…just a peek.”

Mary tugged at the sleeve of Rika’s dress. “Which reminds me. My list. Now is later.”

“Oh all right…” Rika said, suddenly vanishing in a silent white flash.

Twilight stared at Mary. “…Where did she go? What list?!” Her mane was slowly progressing away from neatly brushed all the time since Rika showed up, and that was the point where it finally turned completely frazzled. Explosively.

What worried me was that this disappearing act looked so much like Discord’s magic with the volume turned down to zero. Where did she go is something that you can ask her when she’s back. When Twilight starts arguing with somepony, they always eventually come back to try again. The longest time it ever took was a month.

“Sorry about that. She can be very abrupt… Used to drive me crazy with that, but I got used to it eventually. Should be back in a few seconds,” Mary replied with a well-worn apologetic smile. “I won’t promise my list will make you happy, but it should at least make you less annoyed for a while.”

Conversation 5: Fluttershy

“Fluttershy? Are you home?” came Twilight’s voice from the other side of the door. I was pretty sure it wasn’t her knocking, though. The sound of a hoof on my door is very distinctive.

“Why, hello, Twilight…” I said, opening the door and found myself face to face with Twilight and …something else. “Oh my…” What an elegant creature… That red mane is so sparkly! And there’s another one! They’re so different… And they’re wearing dresses, so it’s probably improper to call them critters. “…I’ve never seen something like you before,” I said, stepping out for a closer look.

Rainbow Dash flew up from behind the creature’s back. “Hi Fluttershy! These hoomans said they want to talk to you.”

“Meet Rika and Mary,” Twilight said, gesturing with her hoof. “They’re travelers from another world, and they’ll be staying in Ponyville for a while.”

“Good afternoon, Fluttershy,” the taller hooman said, crouching to face me. Rika, right. “Actually, we have a favor to ask of you. Mary believes we need your help in scouting a location for a house.”

“Um… but why me?” I asked. “There are all those forms…” I’m very bad with forms. When I encounter bureaucracy, I usually end up sitting in the town hall, unable to say a word, until my friends come to bail me out.

Mary shook her head. “No forms, unless you say we need them. Twilight tells me you’re the forest warden for this area.”

“Well, t-technically,” I stammered out. This felt slightly ominous. While it is officially my job, the forest warden thing is just a way to pay the bills, it only comes up occasionally, for things like the annual rabbit roundup. I’ve always seen my little animal shelter as the actual job. Forest animals with established nests and food sources don’t really require as much support as everypony thinks, except when the time comes for seasons to change, and Everfree animals tend to reject help even then. With most of the town turning up for events like Winter Wrap-Up, I don’t really have much actual work to do.

“We need a location with no animal lairs or bird nests such construction would inconvenience,” Mary explained. “Anywhere you deem it permissible within the Everfree Forest.”

“Everfree Forest?!” Apparently, my day just suddenly got a lot more eventful.

✶                ✶                ✶

I was looking for a likely spot along the fading path, and behind me, Twilight was still bombarding the humans with questions. I spent almost half an hour doing the same before we left, but apparently, Twilight had been at it since noon, and wasn’t about to stop just because they came out to see me. They shouldn’t talk so loud in the forest, everything can hear you for miles…

“You still haven’t told me why do you want to build it in Everfree,” Twilight commented.

“It’s not a nice place,” Rainbow Dash concurred. “Plants grow without earth pony magic, animals care for themselves… And don’t get me started on local clouds! All my overtime is about something that blew in from Everfree.”

I always thought her overtime was because she tires herself out with morning practice and spends half the day napping in a cloud somewhere… I eventually got used to animals caring for themselves, and with Zecora living almost next door, at least in the Everfree sense of “next door,” it’s hard to believe there was a time I was actually afraid to set a hoof in there. But I couldn’t ever imagine living inside, or even going there alone after dark.

“In most other worlds, that’s how it usually works. You have to constantly resist your environment, because it’s always trying to do something you don’t like,” Mary replied. “No, that is neither a problem nor any of the actual reasons.”

An entire world like Everfree? Scary… With their teeth and jaws, humans have to be omnivores. They won’t last forever on pony food. Do they hunt? Those fingers don’t look very strong. Might be scavengers, like bears, but with a civilization like that, it’s probably weapons. Those boots are made from treated leather. They have sewing machines, that’s some very neat stitching. If their world is like this forest at all, those are some scary weapons…

“I don’t get it myself, actually,” Rika said. “In 85% of all branches where this happens, randomly displaced humans appear in Everfree. Going in the opposite direction feels… kind of contrary.”

Humans could just appear? Does this mean there might have been other humans who came from the forest, and I missed everything?…

Of course, I shouldn’t bring their diet up in public. Griffons avoid mentioning meat to ponies, I’m sure humans will do the same. But when I can get them alone for a moment, we really need to talk. If they can get by on eggs and milk, it will make things much easier.

“Where else do they appear?” Twilight asked curiously.

“In your lab, mostly,” Rika replied. “As a result of a botched spell.”

Twilight’s only reaction was a deep, badly concealed growl.

Mary giggled. “I do have a few reasons. For starters, I don’t want to sort out the intricacies of Equestrian land ownership laws for non-citizens. In Everfree, the question probably won’t come up. Which, admit it, is the last thing you would think about, because you just pop out whenever you please. When was the last time you maintained a long term residence anywhere?”

Twilight interrupted, “Wait a moment, Mary, do you plan to live in Everfree alone?”

“I’ll do just fine, if that red headed lady over there gets me a laspistol for the timber wolves…” Mary tossed back.

At least she knows about the timber wolves. They are the only creatures in Everfree that nopony can reason with, even hydras can be convinced to mind their own business, but not timber wolves… At least they don’t start showing up until zap apple season.

They asked me to find a place with no animal lairs. Maybe they want to avoid having to eat anyone at all, somehow? That would be nice. But I wouldn’t want them to hurt themselves…

“What’s a laspistol?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“Something like a fire beam spell amulet,” Rika replied. “If you want Imperium artifacts, why not a bolt pistol?”

“Not rechargeable, and I hate splinters,” Mary explained.

I threw a glance their way and found Mary’s facial expression blissfully neutral. Maybe I should worry for the timber wolves instead. That’s a face of somepony who will shrug and kill, if they think they have to. I know, because sometimes I see the same face in my mirror… I’m not very happy with myself on those days, but some creatures just can’t live without meat. Thank goodness I know about parasprites now.

Mary immediately noticed me looking in their direction. “Where did that ‘ponies never return from Everfree’ notion even come from, anyway?” she questioned, looking straight at me.

“Uh…” I mumbled, trying to collect my thoughts. “One day, the town librarian went for a walk in the forest and disappeared. Nopony knows what happened to her, they never found a body. When they gave up searching, the forest warden resigned, abandoned the cottage and moved away. We’ve had no full-time librarian after that until Twilight came.”

“How come I have never heard that story?” Twilight wondered.

“You don’t talk to Granny Smith much,” I smiled at Twilight. “I ended up getting the cottage when I moved here. The job was still waiting for me when I finished school. The forest had always been scary, but since that incident, it’s been treated as downright deadly.”

Mary lifted up an eyebrow, “…That’s got to be at least ten years ago, they’re still scared of it?”

“Twelve, actually,” I told her. “It’s easier to keep the foals out of trouble if they’re afraid to come here. Everfree is not really that bad, but you do need to treat it with respect,” I added, turning away and resuming looking into the trees.

Behind me, Mary continued, “Well, I would really hate to cause any ponies to lose sleep over suddenly realizing they live next door to an alien. I don’t want to become a media sensation, and in general, I think I could use a little exercise. I also get to have Fluttershy for a neighbor, and she’s the nicest pony I’ve heard about.”

I think I’m actually blushing. The thought of being famous in another dimension is… disturbing. How did those stories come to be? Was somepony… watching us? I can’t see anypony watching me… I shivered. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it, if I don’t see them, they don’t exist…

“Well, if you put it this way, no contest here,” Rainbow Dash commented. “Fluttershy is the nicest pony.”

“Eeeek!…” Oh my… “STOP!” I called out. “Poison joke!” I was so distracted that I almost walked straight into it!

Everypony stopped dead in their tracks, even the humans. Right next to the path, and even encroaching upon it, was a large thicket, covered all over in that accursed blue plant.

“Stop, Rika, where are you going? Poison joke is more poison than a joke!” Twilight yelled, as the taller human walked up to me, and actually crouched to inspect the flowers.

“Don’t worry, I know exactly what it is,” Rika commented. “Tell me, Fluttershy, does poison joke affect animals?”

“It does,” I replied. I’ve seen it happen to a rabbit, once. He could not eat anything because of the foot long fangs it suddenly grew, I barely managed to coax the poor critter to take a bath. “I don’t think anything would want to live in here. Not even birds, because it can climb up the trees, like poison ivy. This growth is new…” I’ve never seen poison joke this close to my cottage before.

“Looks like we found our place, then,” Mary said, walking up, giving a wide berth to anything that looked even remotely blue. Much more cautious than her friend, thank goodness!

“I don’t think any animals will complain if you remove the poison joke. I certainly won’t…” I thought out loud, “But how are you going to do that? If you plan to start a fire here, I really must object…”

Mary looked at Rika curiously, “Yes, how?”

“Be right back,” Rika replied, and immediately vanished with a flash of white, startling me so much that I let out a squeak and fell on my hindquarters. At least I didn’t fall on any poison joke, that would be really embarrassing.

“Sorry,” Mary said.

“Yeah, she does that,” Twilight added and sighed.

I was about to ask what happened, but was interrupted by another flash of white. Rika was back, and balanced on her shoulder was some kind of crate… or chest… whatever it was, you could probably fit two ponies in it, and she was holding it up with just one arm. She walked off a few steps, and dropped it onto the ground with a loud, metallic clanging sound. She’s gotta be as strong as a big earth pony, it not stronger…

“What’s that?” Rainbow Dash piped up, flapping her wings above the box.

Mary crouched before the box, wiping the dust from a stenciled label on the side with a finger. I recognized some of the letters, but they somehow didn’t make what she read anyway. “Embryomech M186-32, target environment: Pandora, handle with care, unpack before activation,” she read aloud. Stretching back up, she commented, “Why ‘handle with care?’ I thought they were meant to survive a drop from orbit.”

“This is just a hunting lodge for two, for a planet with permanent human presence, so the most it is meant to survive is getting eaten by a tahorg,” Rika replied, opening up the crate and reaching inside, to produce …something. A large, perfect sphere in dull white, just a little smaller than the box itself. Is that… an egg?

“They call them ‘embryos…’” Rika said to nobody in particular. “Now please don’t follow me,” she added, and waded straight into poison joke, rolling the egg before her.

“But it’s poison joke! It does… unspeakable things to you!” I wailed. I can’t watch… I know the effects won’t manifest until tomorrow, but I still can’t watch.

“Good thing I’m wearing numerous layers of clothing, then,” Rika said over her shoulder, ploughing on like a draft pony and mercilessly crushing the foliage in her path with the egg. “Don’t worry.”

She stopped in the middle, attached some kind of device to the surface of the egg, and started fiddling with it. Twilight turned to Mary. “Will she really be safe?” she asked. “I’m not sure I have all the ingredients for the poison joke cure.”

“She will be,” Mary replied. “Me, definitely not, which is why I’m staying put.”

A few seconds later, Rika was back, dusting her hands off. Even her hands are covered, so she might remain unaffected… “Late models don’t take long to get going,” she commented. “You don’t want to be nearby when it hatches, it’s not tuned to preserve anything that isn’t human. I should decontaminate, so please look away, Fluttershy, you don’t want to jump into poison joke this time.”

I shut my eyes, but the flash was still visible through the closed eyelids.

“She’s gone,” Mary said, tickling me cautiously behind the ear. Mmm…

I opened my eyes and smiled at her. And just as I did that, the shell bubbled, and then burst with a shrill whistling sound, briefly startling everypony. Hundreds of metallic-looking spidery creatures came out, flooding the area with tiny orange lights.

“Cool!” Rainbow Dash commented. “And creepy. I like it! But it’s not a house. Are these …things going to build one?”

“First, they will chew up everything in the area for raw materials. Should be done cooking by sundown, I expect,” Mary said. “It’s some of the most advanced machinery thought up by a pre-singularity civilization I ever heard about.”

“No, it can’t be a machine,” I said. “I’m pretty sure they’re alive.” I don’t know what kind of creatures – or creature – they are, but I can bet anything it’s alive. I called out to one. “Mister Spider?”

Several of the spidery things turned around and flashed their orange lights in a complicated pattern. After a short pause, one of them skittered towards me.

“…wait, wait, they’re not supposed to leave the spawn radius…” Mary complained, making a step back.

I glanced at her. “What are you scared of, Mary?”

“That,” Mary replied, pointing to the middle of the thicket, where the other spiders were busy …disassembling a tree. I couldn’t think of a different word for what they were doing. They were cutting out perfect little cubes of wood and carrying them into what remained of their egg shell. They work really fast!

“Aw, but you wouldn’t hurt a pony, now, would you, mister Spider?” I asked the creature.

“FcZBCgAgCATAr/j/ X21g4KGVLAs8RXMa b0TkUUKoVlfXJqYE KsdP9xiQY0V7MXUk nw,” the spider chittered back at me.

“My, what a complex language you have, mister Spider,” I said. “I’m very pleased to meet you too! Would you like to meet my other animal friends?”

The spider sat there silently for a few seconds and then replied, “ASYA2f/z9PLv6fTl 7Pju+eUg8uHi7/T5 IPrh9+Xy++Xu+SDu 4SAwLjAxJXg9HG8.”

“Oh, of course I know you have a job to do, mister Spider… or should that be mister House? Maybe when you’re done, you can visit me, if that’s alright?” I asked, pointing a hoof in the direction of Ponyville. “My cottage is right next to the edge of the forest, you can’t miss it.”

“Twilight… please ask Fluttershy to stop breaking the universe,” Mary mumbled somewhere next to me.

“AR4A4f/w8uXk7O/2 5e7p5SDvIOvv7vTh 6/TlIPDy6e7x9O+K Ahlb,” the spider replied, and ran off to join the others in disassembling another tree.

“Umm… Talking to animals is perfectly normal for Fluttershy, Mary,” Twilight said.

Mary turned to Twilight waving her arms in exasperation, “I know, but these aren’t animals! They’re made in a factory! They aren’t even autonomous! My world doesn’t have embryomechanics, but I’m quite certain on that particular point. This is one machine, not a colony of arachnids.”

I looked back at them and caught Twilight grinning at Mary. “As far as I’m concerned, if Fluttershy says it’s alive, she’s the expert.” Behind her, Rainbow Dash was quietly giggling and covering her mouth with a wing.

“I know they’re one creature, but why wouldn’t you think it’s alive, Mary?” I wondered.

Mary sighed. “No reproductive capability?” she offered eventually.

“That would exclude almost every hybrid there is!” I exclaimed.

“Why are you two even arguing about it?” Rika said, as she suddenly appeared behind me, causing me to jump, which very nearly knocked Mary off her feet and almost into the nearest patch of poison joke. Oh my. We shouldn’t dawdle here like that…

Mary frowned, steadying herself and stepping away to safety. “I just don’t want be responsible for getting Everfree eaten by grey goo, just because somepony decided to instill sapience into what is, ultimately, a hyper-advanced construction crane.”

“Grey goo?” Twilight inquired.

“Think artificial parasprites that hate music,” Mary explained with a grimace. “The everything eating kind.”

Twilight cringed. She’s just not getting any breaks today…

“Well, that shouldn’t be a problem,” I declared. “Mister House, will you behave responsibly? You can take apart everything in this thicket, but please don’t touch anything else! And please, be sure to dispose of the poison joke carefully!”

A spider carrying a patch of grass ran up to me and blinked its light. “62ue0NDbMb21t2O+ QuPklsmTFCb2NXbP a2ntnQ0Aw54N/g,” it chittered, before running back.

“See, it will play nice,” I smiled at Mary. “And you should apologize. It’s building a house for you, the least you can do is appreciate it.”

Mary stared at me with a very blank expression. Then she stared harder at Rika, who smugly grinned back at her, but said nothing. “Okay, I give up…” Mary finally said, and turned towards the eggshell. “I’m sorry!”

Hundreds of spiders flashed their lights simultaneously in response and continued working.

I’m not sure if she really meant that, but I guess I shouldn’t judge.

Author's Note

This is a chapter I am not very satisfied with, and writing it was torture that can only compare to reading it. But no matter what you, or the characters, might think, this story does have an epic plot. Which needs to start somewhere, and Fluttershy opens up two of the major threads, so I can’t just skip it and move on.

Words of the spiders are not exactly gibberish, but understanding them is neither essential nor very helpful.

Conversation 6: Rarity

I doubt that the Golden Oak library has ever seen so many ponies reading at once. Certainly not in my lifetime, the librarian we had before Twilight was a young, intense and irritable mare, more concerned with her private magical research, than with teaching ponies to appreciate reading… Quite a lot like Twilight in that, come to think of it. Sometimes, I worry Twilight is going to go for a walk in the Everfree forest alone and disappear, too. What a dreadful story that was.

It is not uncommon for all of us to assemble here, but it was so delightfully unexpected to see everypony actually using the library for its intended purpose, and not as an impromptu crisis management headquarters, that I was actually wondering, if this could, perhaps, become a regular kind of soirée. Even Rainbow Dash was huddled on the windowsill above everypony else, lazily shuffling the pages of a book of her own. Something about flying machines, full of pictures.

Pinkie’s parties are excellent, and I can attest, that the one that we attended just prior was great fun. But at times, some peace and quiet in the company of your friends is just what you need, and the library is just the place. Relative piece and quiet, of course, because Pinkie has been giggling the entire time. Her book was a thick volume, some kind of comedy, and she was leafing through it with unexpected speed, skipping back and forth.

Well, not her book exactly, because Mary gave them to Twilight with the intent they should be available in the library for everypony, but it was plainly obvious, that the selection was tailored to satisfy our personal curiosity in particular. Even Spikey was included – he got a colorful comic book of some sort. He was sitting on a pillow next to Twilight and reading it, mouthing sound effects in excitement.

“…Twilight, do you think humans really eat rhinos?” Pinkie asked suddenly.

“They’re tool-using sapient omnivore mammals,” Twilight replied, without looking up from her book. “So I imagine they could, if they tried. I’m not sure whether they would. So far, looks like anything that talks is definitely off the menu. They think that dolphins have at least some form of speech, and they avoid eating those.”

“Wait, what?” Rainbow Dash piped up from her windowsill. “Fluttershy, are you sure they won’t try to eat your animals?”

Fluttershy looked up at Rainbow. It took her so long to come up with an answer, that the pause was almost awkward. “I asked, actually. They have something called a protein synthesizer… I’m sure my animals will be alright,” she said finally, returning to her own tome. Something about wildlife, with even more pictures than Rainbow’s book.

“Rainbow Dash, you don’t expect every visiting griffon to eat somepony’s pet when they get hungry,” I commented. “And humans appear to be more civilized than some ponies I know. A species that wears clothes all the time clearly has to be,” I added, turning the page. My, how lovely, I’m definitely using this idea. The pictures in this volume are excellent. In fact, the printing arts of humans are shockingly advanced, even the typography is simply beautiful. Beautiful, tightly uniform, and the typefaces are quite a bit smaller than ours, on average. Which is strange, considering that human eyes are clearly quite a bit smaller…

“Eh, you’re just saying that because they got you that fashion ency.. encyclop… whatever,” Rainbow Dash said dismissively. “Somepony wants a new dress,” she grinned.

“But of course they need new dresses, darling,” I grinned back at her, glancing over my glasses. “Have you even looked at Mary’s dress?”

“Nah,” Rainbow Dash tossed back, disinterested.

Philistine, bless her little heart. “Well, I obviously did. And I should say, that while I can’t fault the design, ruffles like these are twenty years out of fashion, she’d be better off hiding it in a closet and waiting a year until it’s back in again. I would insist on making a new outfit for her anyway,” I said, trying to imagine just what it would be like to make clothes for a human. With so much to live up to, this is a challenge. “Bringing this encyclopedia is the most tactful way possible to communicate what she actually needs without us embarrassing each other. Very thoughtful.”

Mary certainly did as much as she possibly could to make that challenge a practical one, as if she knew I would want to do this before we even met. But if I understood her properly, she probably did… Being famous in other worlds might not be much help to my business, but it is definitely a major ego boost.

Applejack flipped another page of her own book – some kind of illustrated treatise on every aspect of farming, from what I saw – with a serious expression. “Rarity, hon, dont’cha think that means she’s wearing the next year’s fashion before anypony else?”

“Uh… I’m not entirely sure it can work like that, Applejack,” I said, blushing a bit. Mostly because I’ve been preoccupied thinking about the new things I can make. Actually, Applejack might have accidentally said something more important than she thought. With all the ideas the humans introduce just by being there, let alone that encyclopedia I’m now reading… This is definitely going to start a wave in the fashion world, it may turn out that Mary’s dress literally is the next year’s fashion. And it’s plain as day that the sacred duty of introducing the human styles to Equestria falls onto me. I don’t even feel excited anymore, frankly. This is as far beyond excitement as it can possibly get.

Applejack flipped another page, “Ah never figured you could confuse somepony with the truth, but here ’tis,” she commented.

“What do you mean, Applejack?” Twilight asked, her nose still in her book.

“They’re not telling us somethin’, I reckon,” Applejack replied, turning another page.

“If you were told you need to describe the entire Equestria in one evening, I doubt you would do better,” Twilight snickered. “I’m not sure I would do better.”

“That goes without sayin’!” Applejack replied, looking away from her book to stare at Twilight. “What ah’ see in this book that I even understand is honest truth, no two ways about it. There’s just too much of it…”

“It’s an encyclopedic work,” I commented. “Just the right way to start a conversation with somepony from a world so different, don’t you think?”

“I’m no foal, I can see that too,” Applejack replied, glaring at me.

Oh, that’s what it is. Applejack is at a loss for words. Sometimes, paying more attention to the finer things in life pays off, and this is definitely one of those. She clearly needs help with that. “Do you mean to say that the books are themselves a message, and not just a medium? That they want to tell us something, but it’s nothing that is written in these books?” I ventured.

“Get us to ask them a question about it, more like, we just don’ know enough to ask, yet,” Applejack replied. “There’s a lot of things we would think offensive in there,” she said, tapping her book with a hoof. “If not us, then somepony else. Breeding animals for food, as an industry, even foreign griffons don’t do that. If they’re out to lie to us, if they want to look better than they are, no sense giving us these books at all. But ah’ feel like they gave us so much truth so that we don’ see the truth that actually matters straight away.” She cringed for some reason.

“So you suspect an ulterior motive,” I said.

“No, not that either,” Applejack shook her head. “More like, they need our help, they’re just afraid to ask for it, or ashamed, I dunno. They might not even realize it themselves, but that’s how it feels ta me.” She sighed. “An’ ah might just be thinking too much into it.”

Rainbow Dash grinned, looking down from her windowsill at Applejack. “So we get to save their world too, huh? That would be totally awesome.”

“They’re actually from two different worlds, in case you missed that,” Twilight said. “Both are human worlds, very similar, but not the same. Mary actually said she was born ‘a hundred years and a fifteen hundred miles away from home,’ figure that one out, it’s like she’s from two very different worlds at once. And don’t forget the library they travel through. Rika says she lives in it, Mary only visits it occasionally.”

Rainbow Dash tried to make sense of it, and apparently failed. “…You know I don’t speak egghead, Twilight.”

The entire world-library story told by the humans made precious little sense to me, too. As far as I could tell from the bits I’ve read and from the things they said at the party, traveling between worlds was not a common thing. The world this book came from has had a long history, lots of different and very varied cultures, and every one of them has contributed distinct modes of dress and items of clothing to the melting pot, if this encyclopedia is to be believed, but none of it suggested that other worlds were known, human or otherwise.

But the characters of a book also think they’re real, don’t they? Actually, if we assume they can think at all, wouldn’t that already imply they’re just as real as we are? It is kind of incredible, but feels so right when you think about it.

Twilight sighed and finally tore herself away from the book to look at Rainbow Dash. “These books are just a tiny window into a gigantic universe full of different human worlds, different pony worlds, and who knows what else, Rainbow. It’s so exciting!”

Oh Twilight, if you learn how to make your eyes sparkle like that on demand, you will be able to charm roomfuls of ponies with a single wink, and then select a special somepony at your leisure, no matter what you’re wearing. I need to convince you to practice, and I need to get you a bigger mirror.

“I don’t think they need us to save anything. I don’t even think they actually want anything beyond seeing something new,” Twilight continued. “Why don’t we just take it at face value? At least for the moment? You know that friendship doesn’t always come easily. I think they know it much better than we do. Looking at human history, it actually comes harder to them.”

“That’s it, Twilight, friendship. That’s what ah wanted t’ say!” Applejack said, jumping up. “Imagine you ended up in one of them human worlds, and they ask, who are ya. And do ya say ‘Ahm a pony’ or do ya say ‘Ahm Twilight Sparkle’?!”, she started explaining, gesturing with her hoof. “And it’s all right and proper that they don’t know what a pony is, so you should tell ‘em, because ye’re one, and they use the word for sumthin’ else, they don’t have any real ponies living there. Bein’ a pony is part of who you are, you can start with that. But when do ya start explaining who Twilight Sparkle is? We’ve been asking them something that don’t really matter! They’ve been telling us things that don’t really matter, either…”

“Look at it this way, Applejack,” Twilight said. “If I were to start explaining that I’m Twilight Sparkle, and what it really means to be Twilight Sparkle, to a human, the only thing I could say, beyond being a pony and a unicorn, would be that I study magic. Everything else would just be nonsense. I can say I’m like or unlike somepony else, I can tell them who my friends are, but I can’t really say who I am. If they don’t know anypony else, they wouldn’t understand much. I’m not my name! You need to reference something that they already know. Even starting with magic would be a problem in a world that doesn’t have magic.”

“That’s tha problem, Twilight, they do know us better than we know them. Names, faces, everythin’, all that ‘presented as story’ nonsense. We sure don’t have any stories about them two,” Applejack said, sitting back down and looking at her book… Then at Rainbow Dash perched up by the window above. “And they knew what kind of a book Rainbow would even look at. Last time ah checked, you couldn’t get her ta read a menu.”

I chuckled quietly. I remember when we discovered that. Rainbow Dash is certainly not illiterate, as she had the occasion to demonstrate, but she does get too bored to continue even before the salad page ends.

Rainbow Dash looked away from her encyclopedia. “Hey, it has lots of cool pictures! And these things are all supposed to fly really fast!” she said defensively. Applejack just shot a condescending grin back at her, but didn’t say anything.

“So let’s get this straight, Applejack,” I commented. “You feel that they know us quite well personally, and while they’ve been very forthcoming with answers about humans in general, and all these worlds, we know too little about them in particular, and we don’t even know enough to ask the right questions?”

“Yes, Rarity, that’s exactly it,” Applejack replied. “Guess ahm’ just weirded out by that, is all,” she added with a sigh, and stared into her book again.

Twilight opened her mouth for another long-winded statement, but was interrupted by a burst of Pinkie’s loudest laughter yet. “Ahahahaha, six by nine! SIX BY NINE!”

Everypony looked at Pinkie. Then at each other. “Six by nine?” Twilight asked finally when a pause in the laugher presented itself.

“That’s how you get forty two! Multiply six by nine!” Pinkie said proudly and burst into another fit of laughter rolling on the floor.

“I don’t think that’s right…” mumbled Fluttershy.

“That book is the only fiction book Rika brought, and Mary said it was the book she personally considers one of the best examples of human humor,” Twilight said seriously, after a long, strained pause, most of which Pinkie spent noisily rolling back and forth. “Looks like Pinkie understood it very well…”

“…Ahm not sure if I should be happy about that or worry,” Applejack said.

My sentiment exactly.

“And that’s just the second book in a trilogy of five!” Pinkie burst, and snapped back to reading as if nothing happened.

“Now I can’t tell, whether the fact that she understood it is important, or it’s just Pinkie being Pinkie,” Twilight mumbled, shook her head and stared back into her book.

“Of course me being me is important, silly,” Pinkie said, looking up. “If I wasn’t me, I wouldn’t be any fun! …Or would I?”

“Never mind…” Twilight sighed.

And peace and quiet returned to the library once again.

Conversation 7: Rika

I was planning to be a witch after finishing high school. Maybe an evil one. The Moderately Wicked Witch of the East. Funny how that turned out.

During middle school, at least, and sometimes, for a while afterwards, every girl wants to be a magical girl. Or a princess. A magical girl is a princess half the time anyway, no matter the type. Some of them even know what happens when the magical girl loses, and still want to be one regardless. But somehow, nobody accounts for what happens when a magical girl actually wins. Which normally only applies to Type II magical girls, and I’ve been Type I, far more like Fullmoon than Sailor Moon. I didn’t even have anything to win, except the silly rivalry that sparked over a boy. One that never cared about either of us in the first place. Funny how that turned out, too.

If I didn’t stumble onto Mary, by now, I would probably have curled up on my sofa on the bottom floor of the Library, to continue sleeping for the foreseeable future. I’d even put up a note, “Wake only in case the place urgently needs some burning down.” At least, the last time, I did burn quite a bit of it.

Just don’t tell Mary, please.

Who am I kidding. The Library grows constantly. There are millions upon millions of books which have never been opened from the outside. The number of readers roaming the cylinder rarely changes, and it’s actually on the decline. Cross-shelf permeation is limited, and I still don’t know what makes one story get written into another one in the first place. Chances are, nobody’s ever going to read this. Except me.

And you.

But if you do meet Mary, don’t tell her. I’ll know.

And it’s kind of difficult to navigate around here when she’s the only soul around, with that golden eye of hers.

“What exactly have you done?” I finally asked. “I can’t see anything actually changing in terms of events, but genre flags are shifting across the board.”

Don’t ask me how I see these. It expertly defies explanation, even through poetry. When I try to change the genre flags, it usually involves very difficult to describe activities performed with things inaccessible to any kind of senses. I screw up about as often as I get it right, it’s fiddly, low-level hackery. When Mary wants to alter them, – and she didn’t even know they existed until I told her – she just does something seemingly inconsequential and innocuous, or rather, tells me to do it, and suddenly, nothing is the same ever again.

“I asked a question,” Mary said darkly. “Even that might have been too much.”

“Oh?” I smiled at her. At least in her general direction. The sun has already set…

“I asked the smartest pony around who invented the sandwich. Even before I realized what I was doing,” Mary explained. “God alone knows where this ends up now. If you wanted to break an Arcadia, this is exactly what you’re getting. As if the universe does not have enough depressing places to live in…” she added. I think it’s a scowl.

I laughed. I must admit I enjoyed this a bit too much, this might have scared someone. It certainly scares Mary when I do that. She never shows it, but I know. “This question has a simple, true answer,” I said when I was done. “We’re in a story. It’s written by humans, for humans. It follows the principle of indicated difference and the law of conservation of detail, it would not be comprehensible otherwise. Lord Sandwich’s cook is the inventor of the sandwich. The same sandwich the ponies are now making. Isn’t that good enough?”

“I refuse to accept that this world is nothing but a story,” Mary snapped. “Just like I refuse to accept that mine is. The author is dead, and we have killed him, you and I. Stop waving the corpse around, it’s impolite.”

“But nothing else actually exists,” I countered. “The story is the most precious thing people ever produced. Just like it is what created people. Of course it’s not just a story, it’s exactly as real as anything else.”

“Well, I know that!” she hissed. “I actually told exactly as much to Twilight. But a story is not just a text. It’s a…” Mary waved her hands around grasping for an analogy, “A ball of yarn, that extends into the past and future, that is self-consistent… At least to some extent. Being written by someone does not render an in-universe reason void! No matter how tangled the yarn might be, that reason already exists, because it has always existed. Even if the world has been created whole cloth the moment someone wrote its story.”

I shrugged. “Time is an illusion. Space-time doubly so.”

“Don’t you… I dunno, see it?” Mary asked after a long, strained pause.

“I’m not sure what you are actually talking about, Mary,” I answered.

“Time,” she said. “You don’t see it?”

“I can see story,” I said. “A story about people, told through words, across time. I don’t think I can actually perceive time itself anymore, if that’s what you mean. I’m not sure I ever could. Time is a sequence of words.”

She just sighed, “I guess this explains why you have such trouble understanding what I was really shooting for back home.”

I don’t think her home story actually can be expressed as a linear text. Not even a set of multiple linear texts, more like a constantly twisting stack of rewrites eating other rewrites. I do so hate those. I don’t know how she doesn’t go crazy from that, but to her it’s so incredibly natural, that she can’t even explain, she barely understands the question… Actually, I don’t know how she just walks around with multiple narrative streams in her head and doesn’t go crazy from that alone. Even schizophrenics only get one narrative stream, it just keeps flipping perspectives.

Her reaction to this trip was unexpected, to say the least. There was a very particular reason I named this tree as the destination for this adventure, but even though I really didn’t bother to think it through very far, I don’t understand how could I anticipate something of the sort. You ask her to improvise and then she… improvises, by behaving completely contrary to any of my expectations.

I must admit it did make things interesting, and I did ask, so I can’t exactly complain. But it’s frustrating like you wouldn’t believe.

“Why do you think that question is going to break this story?” I asked, finally.

“I don’t know. I just know two things,” she sighed. “It’s a nice place and it’s fragile. Like a snowflake. Just one gust of wind and it might tumble somewhere.”

I actually giggled at that, “Don’t tell me you’re going to go all ‘alas cruel humanity’ like everyone else.”

“Huh?”

“In at least 65% of all cases, humans visiting Equestria feel that ponies need to be protected from the Unbearable Horrors of the Human Race,” I explained. “You know, they must not be told about war, how humans are predators who weaponized everything they ever laid their hands on, how humans have nothing of harmony in their hearts, that sort of thing, and if ponies are told, the poor fragile creatures take offense and suffer mental damage, not necessarily in that order. They usually start hating or shaming the visitor, but get over it. Misanthropy as a cheap source of drama, not recommended.”

Stifled laughter. Fits of stifled laughter. Finally, Mary broke down and laughed properly, so we had to stop walking while she was doing that. “I picked the right one, then… Innocence is not immaturity,” she said finally with a very serious tone before making another step. “Whoever first decided to set up innocence in opposite to experience has done culture a great disservice. No… this is a world of mature innocence, it’s not an Utopia, it’s an Arcadia. Ponies know what evil is. You can’t reject evil when you don’t know what it is. They just don’t have a habit of being mean to each other. No need to be their own best enemy, they’ve got enough examples.”

“And you were able to tell from just one party?” I inquired.

“Just one look at them interacting when they don’t think I’m watching is all it takes, really,” Mary said. “Do you remember my definition of paranoia? Paranoids are not people who think they have enemies. Paranoids are people who think they don’t have friends.”

“I even remember that by this definition, you picked the most paranoid time and place on Earth to settle in,” I told her.

“I had my reasons…” Mary replied, looking down into the ground. Even though she explained those reasons multiple times, I never really understood. “Not paranoid. That’s all ponies really are. That’s all it really takes.”

“Their reaction to zebras implies otherwise…” I proposed. “If you just analyze the mainline, the less visitors are like ponies, the better ponies treat them. Most of that doesn’t repeat in the mainline proper, of course, but zebras are feared, buffalo are neighbors, minotaurs are guests, griffons are treated like their own, and they practically bend over for breezies…”

“Breezies? What are those?” Mary asked suddenly.

“Tiny plush sapient faeries with dragonfly wings, got their own language and everything,” I said. Well, damn. I thought she’d be more familiar with the mainline. Why didn’t she just tell me?…

“Well… Maybe there is something about zebras. I guess I’ll have to ask Twilight. And Zecora,” Mary said. “But I’m pretty sure so far.”

I pressed on. “So, just how is this story fragile, and what does a sandwich have to do with it?”

“I can’t really tell, I just know,” she said. There she goes again. “Every good timeline is at least to some extent metastable. They are driven by actions of millions, but they always depend on a few key actors having a few key ideas. Ideas are fickle. Some ideas are inevitable, and it doesn’t matter who has them first. Others… not so much. And yet others can suddenly derail it.”

“From my point of view, most of the book went blank the moment you said ‘once upon a time,’” I stated. “There is no future, at least not yet. Just characters, their starting states, and their past experiences. And you. There is nothing to destroy. Just a story you have yet to write.”

Mary just sighed at me. “Sometimes, I’m really happy that I don’t see the world from your point of view.”

Girl, you have no idea.

Actually, I don’t either. I keep thinking, that this is exactly what makes her one of the few characters in this entire universe that I can relate to at all, and yet I can never grasp it. We’re so infuriating to each other.

“There are things here that are unfair, stupid, or simply broken, it’s not some perfect little formula,” Mary said after a really long pause, when we were almost about to enter the forest. “Twilight’s brother Shining Armor is supposed to be a hero, a military leader, with a knightly name and a shield for a cutie mark, and ends up a damsel in distress repeatedly. A small basket of idiot balls is rolling around. Celestia’s answer to everything is to sic Twilight on it… Some of this can be changed. Some of it probably should. None of it is really bad enough to risk it. This is not my story.”

Oh really. I sneered. “This didn’t stop you the last few times.”

“I saw a good ending at the end, the last few times,” Mary parried. “From inside, the only thing I do see is an Arcadia. For example, there’s no good ending I can think of that would make Shining Armor a hero in the process.”

“There are several different branches, in which he’s an Element of Harmony, so it’s not unheard of,” I mentioned.

“And Twilight is an academic lost to the world, I imagine?” Mary asked.

“Mostly.”

“Not a very good ending, and it exists already anyway,” Mary sighed. “That just means there are not enough threats to go around, isn’t that a good thing?”

I grinned in her general direction. “Something could be arranged.” It really wouldn’t be any trouble.

“I hope you’re not being serious,” Mary said. This time, I’m pretty sure it was a scowl. “I don’t think even your blue and orange morality extends quite this far.”

To be fair, it doesn’t. Whatever I might come up with in terms of a threat would probably depopulate a few towns just to show it means business. Not that I particularly care, but it wouldn’t make for a good enough story to justify the waste. I would have to get quite annoyed before seriously considering it.

Mary pressed on. “Isn’t a happy world of high adventure the kind of thing you want to see?”

I understand that someone did think that there aren’t enough threats, because post-apocalyptic branches do exist. They aren’t exactly common, but would it have hurt her to pick one of those Wasteland variants? I would at least feel needed in one.

Why didn’t I arrange the books so that these would be the closest, anyway?

“Don’t worry,” I finally told Mary. “This one is all yours, unless any pony petitions me directly. But if you think of something, don’t hesitate to ask.”

All she usually wants is to tell someone something. It never ceases to amaze me that this actually works.

Conversation 8: Mary

Time was frozen. Snowflakes hanging in the air like droplets of paint across the cloudy night sky.

Which is not how it usually works. I remember exactly how it happened, in great detail, and what I was seeing wasn’t the cracking prestressed concrete, nor the tallest structure in the entire country tipping over and falling down, but a photograph of same. A stereoscopic picture of destruction that is just about to occur, and somehow isn’t happening.

Wait. Stereoscopic. I can’t see stereoscopic. By all rights I should be unable to even imagine anything stereoscopic. The golden eye shows me whatever it pleases ever since it “woke up,” but it’s never, ever a stereo pair to my normal eye. It’s been doodling something like a cross between H.R. Giger and Hieronymus Bosch back then. In Equestria, it’s pretending to be Van Gogh, sometimes slipping into subtle fits of Edvard Munch. Which actually turned out to be much more difficult to ignore than the usual imagery of sexualized disgust and horror, but I’ve been managing so far. And right now it’s showing me a proper stereo pair, which can’t be happening. Not even in a dream. I have never had two good eyes, and my MRI shows, that what I have that passes for optic nerve on this eye could never sustain vision. I’m not even supposed to be getting the hallucinations I am getting, but there you have it.

Ah. Right. This is not the usual madness, this is just Equestria.

“Your highness?” I called out, looking around. That’s where Rika appeared before she sliced the tower apart, and in the ankle-deep snow covering the roof, instead of her bootprints, what I saw were the unmistakable traces of four hooves.

Princess Luna faded into view, blinking her big eyes at me. Pretty. Say whatever you want about ponies, they can be pretty as all get out, especially in contrast to here. And her dark navy blue is a perfect contrast to the snow.

I curtsied. Which looks silly when I do it, since I haven’t done it for decades. Not that I ever had much of an opportunity to practice it. “Pardon me if this is not appropriate protocol, but King Edward was never known for visiting the dreams of his subjects,” I said.

“How didst thou know?” Luna said, studying me with apparent interest, but no signs of surprise.

“This thing,” I said, tapping the cheekbone next to the golden eye. “It’s normally nowhere as cooperative, which can only mean I’m dreaming, or that it finally drove me insane. I don’t feel any more insane than usual, which implies I am dreaming. Since being aware that I’m dreaming is pretty much unheard of for me, supposing a visit from the Mistress of the Night becomes an educated guess.”

“There are at least three of you here,” Luna chuckled. “Thou still thinkest thyself sane?”

“Time travel,” I said, shrugging. “This was a very important event. I really did watch it four times. There should be three more of me elsewhere in the city, but I guess they aren’t visible from here…”

“Tis not just a nightmare of frozen time, then?” Luna asked, gracefully walking over to stand next to me by the balustrade.

“More of a memory,” I replied. I neglected to mention what sort of things the golden eye saw, because they were both different for every time I went through this set of events, and qualified as nightmares. “The pivotal moment of my story, the eucatastophe. In a decade, this will be the place I call home.”

“We find that thine companion is not asleep. Why is that?” Luna inquired.

“Rika can’t sleep,” I explained. “At all. Something about how if she’s ever actually asleep, she will never wake up. Anyway…” I added, smiling. “I’m afraid that quietly observing my dream is not really an option now.”

Or ever, if the eye is always going to freeze-frame the proceedings every time Luna comes in to watch, which seems likely. She frowned a bit, as if I accused her of saying something mildly rude, and she didn’t have a good rebuttal. “But I will be happy to tell you anything you wish to know,” I continued. “Judging by Twilight Sparkle, visitors from another world force you to reevaluate many things you thought you knew about yours.”

“Thou’rt not as much of a surprise as thou…” Luna said, shook her head, as if to clear it, and corrected herself, “…you. Not as much of a surprise as you think. We know of many worlds beside our own. Including one where humans live. We have also heard reports of your tales. Succinct as they had to be, they were most descriptive.”

“Oh, thank heavens,” I grinned. And thank heavens she stopped speaking in their mutated Middle English, I don’t know if I would be able to stand it for long. “I almost turned the welcome party into a press conference. Repeating everything yet another time would be kind of difficult.”

“Worry not,” the princess smiled back at me in a polite, official manner. “A visit of explorers to our world may be unexpected, but is not something we could not conceive of. All who come in peace are welcome in Equestria, how they arrive matters not. My sister has explored many of these worlds with Star Swirl the Bearded, our magical counsel of many years ago. They did this for years, in secret. Equestria has gained much from that exploration. None of our subjects have ever known where coffee beans originated, but many cannot imagine life without them.”

“Really?…” I wonder, if that’s a part of mainline that I simply missed, or something local. A pony Stargate program could explain a lot about this story.

“Indeed so, human. It must be thrilling…” Luna said, sending a wistful glance along the horizon. Your typical cityscape on the New Year’s Night – a seemingly endless sea of lights under an overcast sky. At least, that year it was a snowy one. Just ten years back, it was a drizzle.

Wait. That needs to be much, much more specific before I confirm or deny anything of the sort. “…What?”

“To boldly go where none have gone before,” Luna explained, glancing back at me curiously.

“Pardon me for being literal…” I said. “The Library doesn’t really permit access to places where none have gone before. Everything suggests it’s not even possible. Wherever one might get by going through it has been imagined by someone. At least technically, they were there first.”

Luna’s expression shifted from merely curious to slightly surprised. “Truly it cannot be that you don’t find any adventure in this.”

I shook my head. I need to settle this, this is important. “Just seeing another world a wondrous experience, but it is no different from reading a book, really. Just going there is not yet an adventure. Adventure is something that might happen if you do.”

“What sort of adventure would you seek, then?” Luna inquired, leaning closer to me. She’s the first pony so far I’m exactly eye to eye with, so it’s the first time a motion like that actually feels natural.

“Well…” I muttered, looking around. Yeah, why not. Really, why the hell not. Let’s see how she reacts. “Let’s take this tower, for example,” I said, pointing at the offending structure, still frozen in time, exactly five degrees off vertical. “The fall of this tower kills twenty three people. It seriously injures a further hundred and ten. Some of them… I would hesitate to call them friends, but I liked them.”

“Suspiciously precise,” Luna said, trying to keep her expression neutral, even though her twitching ears betrayed that she was not as impassive as she would have me think.

“I make a point of keeping track of everything I break,” I replied calmly. “That’s as low as I could get the count to go.”

This gave Luna the expected pause. “I have seen ponies who thought they were their own nightmare, but you appear to take this to the next level, human,” she said, glancing along the mostly empty street.

“I tried and tried, and destroying the tower was the final missing piece. It’s quite difficult to arrange a revolution in an entrenched police state,” I said, passing my hand along the balustrade and rolling up a snowball. Funny, I haven’t noticed I’m actually wearing the same coat I wore that night before I did this. “Took me three hundred and eighty one individual jumps. I actually lost count of the times I met myself.”

I also lost count of the times I ended up crying in my own arms, but I’m not going to tell her that. Crying in your own arms is far less comforting than it sounds, because you get to experience it twice.

“To what end?” Luna pressed, ignoring the snowball. Well, it’s not like I would toss it at her anyway. I’m not sure that would even work.

“To destroy lies and make way for the truth,” I said, stretching my hand across the balustrade and releasing the snowball. It remained motionless in the air. I poked it, and it moved again, but froze the moment I pulled my finger away. “It makes more sense in context, I suppose… But that’s not the point,” I added, looking back at the pretty pony princess. “The point is, if there is an adventure anywhere… It’s in making the universe better. Where it happens isn’t quite as important. The ultimate futility of the effort on the scale of the universe matters even less.”

“Did this actually make the universe better?” Luna almost whispered back. “Destroying… a marvel of architecture? Getting ponies …humans killed? This was an adventure to you?!”

“I’m not claiming omniscient morality license. I’m not claiming any morality at all, actually,” I replied. I’m not exactly proud of it. But I won’t be ashamed of it, and you can’t make me. “I wanted to create a world for myself to live in, one with dignity and justice in it. One where miracles would be possible. So I found hundreds of people who also wanted this and used them,” I said, pointing my finger down at the street. Primarily, at the small group of superheroes assaulting the police on the snow-covered lawn next to the tower. “Manipulated them to find each other. That was my adventure. The adventure of my life,” I exclaimed. Calm down, dammit. Shouting at a princess is not something you do even if she deserves it. “I don’t think I could handle another one anytime soon, to be honest… Think whatever you will, your highness, I refuse to justify myself to you. It is my home world, my dream, my memory and my nightmare. They don’t judge the victors around here.”

“So…” Luna said, after spending a tense minute staring down at the heroes. It’s pretty far, you need binoculars to see much of anything interesting. I wonder just how much she actually sees. Might be a lot, since this has to be a reflection of my memory… “…how did it end?”

“There was singing in the streets. The kind they call ‘the sound of empires toppling,’” I said. I was the one who brought the amplifiers, retroactively, but I certainly did not tell anyone to sing. It just happened. “And a long, slow process of rebuilding, that was a few hundred years overdue.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Luna stared at me, an obvious expression of compassion on her face. The last thing I expected. “Even in court, none may be compelled to incriminate themselves. Surely you understand how …questionable this appears.”

All I have for you is a perfectly honest answer. “Because that was what you wanted to know.” It might be an incomplete answer, but it’s certainly not a lie.

Luna pulled back, opening her eyes wide. “But… I would not demand of anypony to bare their soul.”

“I’m actually surprised that you are so defensive about it,” I ribbed. “Everything I knew about ponies seems to suggest you do not value the sanctity of mind quite as high as most human cultures do. So ready to trust…” Sometimes, I’m actually glad to have an eye that always has a second opinion. It has consistently been a hindrance, but it also appears to render me partially resistant to psychoactive effects of just about anything. Like news. And certain superpowers. And including every antidepressant known to man and general anesthetics, which occasionally makes life extremely unpleasant. Looks like the power of dream walking also counts, who knew.

“Well, you’re wrong if you believe this,” Luna flared her wings and stomped her hoof, sending up a cloud of snow, which remained hanging in the air. “I am the protector of dreams, not an… omnipresent voyeur you imagine!”

“I don’t have to imagine anything, your highness,” I said, shrugging. “You could have summoned me. You could have sent an agent to talk to me. You could have waited for Twilight’s detailed report. Instead, you came to observe my dream. You have not demanded it, but that is clearly what you wanted to know. And I see no reason not to oblige you.”

“I wish you would rather not,” Luna huffed, turning away from me. “I… am sorry if you took it that way, but this was not my intention.”

“Look at it this way,” I said, slowly kicking apart the snow so that I could walk around to face her. “When you break the constraints of time, ethics gets so convoluted, that it’s beyond my ability to determine whether my actions were ethical. So I choose not to. In my eyes, this is just fact. I am curious what color will you paint it, once you give it some thought.” There. Look into my eye, princess. No, the working one. “And when you do, I will know something just as important about you.”

“If you think so, human,” Luna slumped, finally giving up.

I sighed. This is getting annoying. “I do have a name, your highness.”

Luna blushed slightly. A blush on a pony’s coat looks exceedingly weird up close, the actual hairs appear to change color. “It sounds… so confusing, when you clearly are… not a pony. I am still not entirely used to the modern accents.”

“You can use my middle name, then,” I said, raising a finger. “Clarissa. I haven’t mentioned it to anypony. And I won’t… so it can be our secret.”

“Clarissa…” Luna spoke, as if trying to taste an unfamiliar word. “Middle name? So there’s a third part to it?”

“I’ll leave it for some other night,” I grinned. “What would I be if there were no silly little mysteries left to me?” Just another useless footnote nobody ever reads, probably.

Luna looked straight at me with a serious face. “Somepony whose waking worries are not entirely unlike the ones that trouble the dreams of my sister,” she told me.

Wow. “Thank you for the vote of confidence, your highness.”

“Luna. Call me Luna.”

Conversation 9: Fluttershy

“Why, thank you very much!” I told my chickens and petted Elizabeak on the head. “You’re being especially helpful today, I will have to find some extra special grain for you.”

It was early morning, and my mornings always start with feeding all the animals. An important step in that is collecting the eggs the chickens laid for me, so I can feed the weasels, the snakes, and usually, there are a few left over for cooking. But today, the chickens laid a whole dozen more eggs than usual, and I immediately remembered my new human neighbors. Rika told me they had the problem of omnivorous diet solved, but I was sure they would be happy to have some fresh scrambled eggs for breakfast.

Their house-spider actually came to see me, and was now sitting on top of one of the birdhouses, watching the rest of my animal friends while keeping the dark blue panels of its carapace flared out towards the morning sun. These house-spiders aren’t very talkative creatures, it seems. And the only thing they will eat by themselves is sunlight. “Do you think your humans like fresh eggs, mister House?” I asked, after I finished collecting the eggs into a basket.

“e/IQAAKrAcY,” it squeaked back at me, blinking the orange light twice and waving with the two front legs.

“I should bring them some, then, if you think that’s alright,” I said. “Would you like to come with me?”

Instead of answering, the spider wiggled the panels of its carapace.

“Oh, you haven’t finished your meal! I’m very sorry,” I said. Of course, the forest is quite dark even during the day. That contributes a lot to its shady reputation, and makes it a bad environment for lone house-spiders. When they are still near their egg, it’s not a problem, but when they set out on their own, they become very vulnerable, I should have considered that. “I’ll leave you to enjoy it in peace then. It’s been very nice talking to you.”

So I grabbed the loop of the basket in my teeth and went off in the direction of the human house. I couldn’t deny I really wanted to see what the house-spider had built, so it spurred me on. I figured it’s probably nothing like a spiderweb. Is it like an anthill? But humans wouldn’t be very comfortable in anthills. Maybe it’s like a wasp nest? But I can’t imagine humans would want to live in a wasp nest either. House-spiders were life created by humans for their own purposes, like numerous other animal species they bred for a specific need, but unlike those animals, spiders were created from scratch. They would build a house humans like to live in. But the wildlife encyclopedia I’ve spent most of yesterday’s evening on didn’t even have pictures of a human house, and I didn’t have the time to look at any of the other books, so it remained a mystery to me.

We really didn’t get all that deep in by the time we found the poison joke yesterday, so it did not take me longer than five minutes to see the house in the distance – a bright, almost luminescent orange spot between the trees, a neat clearing, where previously, there was a thicket overrun by poison joke. They even flattened the ground and planted fresh grass around it.

The human house certainly didn’t look like anything an animal might build. Perfectly straight, vertical walls at right angles, without any of the usual curves and slants ponies like so much in a village house. It looked like something that would feel normal on the outskirts of a big city like Manehattan. A simple, symmetrical gambrel roof just like on most of Applejack’s barns, painted exactly the same orange as the walls. From the look of the door frame, the walls were thick, stony material, strong enough to survive a hydra stepping on the house with nothing worse than paint scratches, and the door itself had a glossy sheen, suggesting plastic, with thick reinforcing ridges on it. Where did the spiders even get any plastic in the forest, I had no idea. Actually, I had no idea where did the rest of the spiders go, either… and when I realized that, I froze.

They disassembled themselves to build that house. Like some of the regular spiders eat each other after mating to lay eggs, so house-spiders disassemble each other to build their house. For humans. I’m used to nature not always being kind or gentle. But what exactly does it say about a species which creates life – life that is neither kind nor gentle to itself? Are they just imitating what they see, not knowing any better? How exactly do they treat each other, then?

But on the other hoof, the spider that came to me was probably the last one remaining. It sacrificed the rare materials the house needed just to see me, compromised its purpose in life just to be a friend to a pony it only met yesterday…

I’m really, really not sure what to think or how to feel about that.

I was thinking about it and gathering the courage to knock on the door, when suddenly, Rika’s voice came out of nowhere. It startled me so much, that I nearly dropped the basket. “So when are you going to warn them about the changeling invasion?” she said.

The window closest to the door was partially open, and the voice was clearly coming from inside. Whew. I suppose she’s not talking to me.

Stop. Invasion?! Changeling invasion?!

“Never,” Mary’s voice replied, followed by a yawn.

“Oh?”

“I am not going to do it, period,” Mary answered sharply, like hammering a nail.

My first impulse was to drop everything and immediately run away. I’m not sure why I actually didn’t. Probably, because my hooves felt glued to the ground with terror. Legends about the changeling attacks on old pony kingdoms are the stuff of nightmares. Not even Nightmare Night nightmares, and these are plenty scary enough. Real nightmares. Where the ponies you know and love are replaced by monsters, and you can’t trust anypony…

Could they mean something else?… Please?… Some other kind of creature called a “changeling?” Maybe, something from a human world? I’m sure those wouldn’t be so horrifying.

“Why?” Rika asked. Her tone was inquisitive to the point of teasing. “Don’t tell me ‘it’s a fixed point in time.’ I know you don’t believe in those.”

“There are no fixed points in time,” Mary snapped back. “Just local minima and points where history crosses potential energy barriers. I have very specific reasons not to.”

She tends to start a lecture when she says the words “specific reasons…” It’s very, very bad to eavesdrop, but I have to know more, I simply can’t pretend I didn’t hear anything now. I won’t be able to look them in the eyes if I don’t know exactly what this is about.

I’m not sure I will be able to even if I do, but I have to risk it.

“For example?”

“Reason one,” Mary began. “It might not happen at all. Precisely because no fixed points and all that. This iteration of Equestria might not even have any changelings. Being part of the mainline guarantees nothing, you said that yourself.”

I wish, I wish they were just a legend. When I was a filly, everypony thought Nightmare Moon was a legend. She wasn’t. She still feels like a bad dream to me, but she wasn’t. When Princess Luna came to visit on Nightmare Night, I was so horrible to her… because she reminded me, that Nightmare Moon was real.

“Please be serious,” Rika whined back.

“I don’t have sufficient situation awareness, so I think I’m justified, shut up,” Mary retorted. “Reason two. This is an epiphany for Cadance. There’s no telling what happens to the Crystal Empire, especially to the events which are not part of the mainline, if that epiphany does not happen.”

Cadance? That sounds like it’s a name. Not a common name. What Crystal Empire?… Could she mean Princess Cadance? She is the Princess of Love, after all. For the legendary changelings, she would be the ultimate prize… But “Crystal Empire” sounds like a name of an old pony kingdom. I’m pretty sure there was no place like that. At least, I’ve never heard of it…

“M-m-m… I think this one is shaky, but …okay,” Rika agreed. “Any more?”

Mary resumed her lecture. “Reason three. I have no idea how many changelings does Chrysalis have inside Canterlot by the time the shield goes up. I don’t know how many ponies she replaced and what sort of terrorism she might resort to, if their cover is blown and their primary mission is compromised.”

Changelings! In Canterlot! So close! Maybe… maybe even right now. I felt like I was about to faint. I don’t even know how I managed to stay up, and I didn’t even notice I bit the loop of the basket halfway through until the unpleasant taste of dry reed filling my mouth brought me back to my senses.

“She doesn’t exactly strike me as that smart,” Rika commented idly. “Her plan only works as far as it does through sheer luck.”

I had to remind myself that they aren’t talking about right now. They are talking about the future. They are talking about stories. In their worlds, there are stories about us, of course some of them are about our future. Stories that might not be true. Stories that might or might not happen to us. Some stories are just stories! What do I do, what do I do…

“Oh really?” Mary screeched back like a door hinge. “Well, assume that she is aware of the Elements of Harmony. Because it’s kinda hard to miss Discord being out and then defeated while you’re planning an invasion, and it’s been what, two months ago? Three?”

Elements of Harmony. That’s us. That’s me. I… at least, I’m justified a little in my eavesdropping if they’re talking about me? Right? It’s impolite to talk about other ponies like that behind their backs, right? Right?

“Five weeks or so,” Rika replied. I could almost hear a shrug.

Six. It was a very eventful Tuesday.

“Whatever,” Mary replied dismissively. “So riddle me this: Do her actions make more sense if she actually planned to separate the Elements?”

“…Well, some of them might…” Rika agreed. “But what about taunting Twilight?”

“This almost gets Twilight to murder Cadance,” Mary explained.

WHAT?!

“Why not just kill them both and be done with it, then?” Rika inquired.

Calm down. Calm down! She said almost! Twilight can’t actually murder anypony! She’s one of the best ponies I even know! The calmest one!… well, not really, not the calmest. But even at her worst, she couldn’t even think of harming a pony!

“Hostages as a backup plan,” Mary continued the back-and-forth. “If Twilight kills Cadance, she’s a hostage and too shaken to use her Element, so she can be safely released for a concession. If Twilight doesn’t, they still have two hostages.”

All of these horrible things Mary imagines so casually weren’t enough for Rika. “Monologuing like a dorky supervillain?” she inquired.

“While she’s speaking, everypony listens and does nothing, while her troops are banging on the shield,” Mary pointed out. “I’d say it worked for her.”

“Well… Changelings are so decoherent, they might as well be materialized rumor, so your interpretation is at least possible,” Rika finally resigned. “But almost invariably, any foreign actor in that scene uses that moment to take Chrysalis out.”

“Oh, I should be so lucky. That sort of thing never works for me! Chrysalis is a clever, observant, adaptable, very evil creature, who is normally beaten with a strategically applied miracle,” Mary declared. “When you see a fulcrum point like that, you don’t touch it, you will only make it worse. If I had my car here, I would just skip over the whole wedding. If they invite us, I’ll try to decline.”

“Aw come o-on.”

“Well, maybe not. That would be pretty much equal to a warning. I’ll just pretend I’m invisible and…”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I ran, not caring where to, or how fast, or whether they heard me, or even that I still had the basket with eggs in my teeth.

A miracle. Normally beaten with a miracle. Who, who is this …Chrysalis? Who is that monster that wants to hurt my friends?! Who is it that takes a miracle to defeat? Weren’t changelings horrifying enough, just on their own, without this Chrysalis leading them?

I never even remembered how I got home, or where I dropped the basket when the loop finally snapped, until I found myself hiding under my bed. What do I do, what do I do, what do I do…

I can’t do anything. Anything at all. I can’t even tell anypony what I heard. If the invasion will happen, if Mary is even a little right, telling anypony can make it much, much worse. I don’t know how miracles happen. Nopony knows how they happen, that’s why they are miracles. Even Princess Celestia says she can’t do miracles. Any little thing can make a miracle impossible, and that sort of future… I don’t want to think about it. I can’t think about it.

And if Mary is wrong, I might still be able to do something, but how do I know what? Or when? I’m not smart like Twilight. I’m not even strong like Rainbow Dash or Applejack… or Rarity. I’m not clever and resourceful like Pinkie. Can I really take that chance? Not to mention I would have to admit I was spying on guests, who made every effort to be nice… Because there’s no way around it, I really was. And there’s still a chance that Rika is wrong, and there really is no invasion. Which of the two humans I trust more? Can I trust them at all? And …can they trust me, now?

Can I trust myself?

And how am I different from a changeling now, if nopony can trust me?…

I remembered how Twilight was visited by her future self a few weeks ago and wore herself absolutely ragged, trying to prevent what turned out to be nothing. The irony is crushing. At least, I’m home, under my bed, and nopony will be bothered if I just cry. Because that’s all I can really do right now.

A hoof knocked on my door, but I just kept crying and didn’t move. Even when Rainbow Dash yelled, “Fluttershy…?” I still did not move. When Angel crawled in under the bed and poked me with his paw, I shook my head and told him, between sobs, “I’m not home…”

I’m such a horrible pony!

Author's Note

Sorry about that, Fluttershy, but this had to happen, you’re one of the key actors in the second primary plot thread. Tell me, ladies and gentlemen, should I mark this story with a “Drama” tag? I find myself continually struggling with figuring out just how much of anything is appropriate for a particular tagging.

To give credit where credit is due, I offer special thanks to Firebrand for his analysis of Chrysalis’ invasion video, which gave me a few key ideas. I am also of the opinion that the invasion plan is neither actually stupid nor self-defeating. There is a strategy tree Chrysalis conceivably could have had, with multiple goals adjustable to situation and several levels of backup plans, as well as a plausible explanation of how it got derailed anyway, that fits what we saw on screen very well. Basically, no matter what would have happened – except for exactly the version of events observed – she wins at least something of value to her. But, no spoilers…

In case anyone is wondering, why does Fluttershy know who Cadance is, when Twilight seems completely unaware of “Mi Amore Cadenza,” the logic behind this is explained in a blog post I made a few weeks back. Twilight simply never cared about high society in general, because none of those ponies could ever find a square root even if you gave them a shovel, so she just assumes “Mi Amore Cadenza” is yet another princess she previously felt no need to be concerned about. At the same time, FIENDship is Magic #5 implies Fluttershy knows a lot more about pony history than she lets on. I figure I’m justified. :)

Conversation 10: Rainbow Dash

“…so imagine, a wide, empty street, paved with asphalt, snow falling, holiday decorations, lights, the works, and I’m standing in the middle alone like an idiot, and the first tank of the column is creeping up on me, and it’s not stopping… by the way, you do know what a tank is, don’t you? I’m just not sure ponies even have them.”

“We don’t actually use any as weapons,” I said. The previous thing she wasn’t sure about was what she called a “car,” which turned out to be a self-propelled carriage thingy, not a common sight. We really don’t have a generic word for those, who’d think it, we just use the word for train cars. Which they also do, somehow. “Except in sci-fi movies. It’s a carnival thing. Big cannons on wheels under armor, right? Self-propelled, too, yeah. Hauling something like that around yourself would be such a drag.”

In the morning, I flew over to check on the mystery shack in the Everfree. Kinda felt bad about leaving the humans alone in the middle of the woods, and I’ve been curious about what a ‘hunting lodge’ looks like when it’s actually built. For the awesome way it got built, it was a bit too ordinary, and even a bit boring – humans seem to like icky orange for some reason – so I was a little disappointed.

Then Mary came out, and all the time she was walking towards the town, we’ve been swapping stories, which was a lot more fun. She’s had some interesting adventures back in her home world, real superheroes and all.

“Mostly. It’s kind of strange, considering that tanks were invented to solve a pretty specific problem in warfare,” Mary answered, “I doubt all your conflicts are fought with pies, like in that Appleloosa incident, but I expect that trench fortifications aren’t your thing.”

“Actually, the reason that one ended with pie is my fault,” I said, adopting a proud grin. This was my awesomest idea ever! Pinkie helped on the delivery method, but the basic idea was still mine.

Mary looked at me curiously. “Do tell. I know the general course of the events, but I never understood why exactly pies were the weapon of choice.”

I flew up and circled around the slowly walking Mary. “You see, chief Thunderhooves had this problem. Time for the yearly stampede, lots of young, hotheaded buffalo in the tribe, all out to teach the settlers a lesson for taking the land over and doing something useful with it, oh the horror, yadda, yadda. He didn’t really mind the apple orchard, as long as he got a path to stampede through, but being seen negotiating would be ‘losing muzzle.’ Stupid, I know, but that’s buffalo for you. He also didn’t want to let the hotheads rush the town and be shot at. Grapeshot is a horrible thing. Taking a hostage was his idea to set up negotiations without being seen as suing for peace.”

“Doesn’t seem to have worked,” Mary commented.

“It did, just not the way everypony expected,” I grinned, “Buffalo never fight those they shared food with, and they never eat with their enemies. Pretty strict about it. When I noticed that, I knew we had to get the entire tribe to eat apples somehow. Pinkie suggested an actual food fight. We just needed to get the town to play along. While she was singing, Thunderhooves and Silverstar had a private talk. That was the biggest and awesomest prank we ever played!”

“So that entire battle was…” Mary stared at me with raised eyebrows. “A prank?”

“Mass pie in the face, hel-lo-o!” I said, landing in front of her. “Which saved the buffalo from getting shot at, and saved the settlers from getting stuck in a real feud. When Twilight finally realized what happened, she kept giggling all the way back home. She was actually the last to get it. Not kidding.”

“How did you know that sheriff Silverstar would agree?” Mary asked.

“He’s a sheriff!” I scoffed. “Letting a shooting war with buffalo start, when he can avoid it forever with a few carts worth of apple pie? His job is to keep the peace. Yeah, it was risky. Turned out okay, didn’t it?”

I turned around and started walking in the direction of Ponyville again. “You were telling a story. Something about tanks,” I winked at her over my back.

“Right. Where was I…” Mary said. “Ah. So I’m standing there like an idiot, wondering how to stop that tank, and then I remember it weighs over forty tons. Boom, and the front tank falls through the asphalt. The entire column stops, not sure what to do now, and all the Elusive Avengers are staring at me, and I say, trying to pretend my knees aren’t shaking, ‘Need any more help?’”

“So how did you actually do it?” I smirked. “Magic?”

Mary shook her head, “No magic in my world. Time travel. Time travel works across time, you see.”

“I don’t get it,” I said honestly. Eggheads and their egghead ways to solve problems.

Mary grinned at me. “I went back in time a few years. It’s a very big city, near fifteen million people, so there are extensive water and sewage networks. I made a tiny hole in a water pipe, so that it would leak and erode the ground under the asphalt. Nobody noticed. Eventually, there was a cavern under the street. It wasn’t big enough to affect normal traffic, but when the tank actually reached me, it broke through the asphalt and fell in.”

I tried to wrap my head around this. I’m not sure even Manehattan is that big, but forget the fifteen million people. There’s something else wrong. “But you didn’t have the time to go back in time.”

Mary shook her head. “But I had all the time in the world… Let me try another way to explain. Imagine that right now, I want to sing a song.”

“Okay. What’s stopping you?” I said. Everypony likes a good song, I half expected to hear humans sing something by now.

“And I need a piano for the music,” Mary added.

“You can play a piano? Really?” I asked. Playing a piano is supposed to be very difficult, I don’t know that many ponies in town who are any good. There’s Spike, who’s not a pony, and Pinkie can play just about anything, but that’s Pinkie, I’ve long stopped wondering just how she can do the things she does.

“Not particularly well, but back when I was born, the three maidenly virtues were modesty, music, and applied mathematics,” she said, stopping.

I looked around. We were still a ways away from the town, and there’s nothing to stop here for, except for the lake. I don’t think anypony dropped a piano into the lake since we cleaned it out last spring, and it’s still a bit too cold for swimming. What’s she getting at?

“So I need a piano,” Mary said, pointing at a bush. “And I’m pretty sure that there is no piano behind that bush. But if I had a time machine, I could decide that tomorrow, I will use it to go back to what is now yesterday, find a piano, and hide it there.”

Okay, I think now I’m getting it. “And just deciding would make a piano appear?”

“Assuming nothing can stop me from hiding it, and nopony makes off with it, yep,” Mary said, grinning. “That’s why the trick is called ‘Retroactive preparation.’ I promise to myself to do it tomorrow, so if I can succeed, the piano has been there since yesterday,” she added, walking up to the bush and pushing the greenery away to look behind it. “Shame that I… what.”

I felt my jaw hit the ground.

Behind the bush was a large, black, grand concert piano, shining with reflections of the sun and blue morning skies.

“I heard you needed a piano,” Pinkie deadpanned and winked. She was lounging on the lid in a suggestive pose with her head propped on her hoof and an expectant toothy grin on her face.

Mary looked at me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a combination of emotions on one face all at the same time. There was everything – surprise, stifled laughter, joy, annoyance, I can hardly even tell, human faces are so weird. But it didn’t last long. Mary broke down and actually bent over, clutching her belly with both arms and laughing, so loud that you could probably hear it all the way to the forest and in town, that silly, girly laugh… Girly laugh of a human and two ponies, duh.

“This has to be your best one ever, Pinkie,” I finally said when I regained the ability to talk, a minute later.

“…What, she didn’t need a piano?” Pinkie asked with surprise, jumping up to stand on the polished woody thing.

“Not as such, no,” Mary mumbled, trying to choke down another fit of laughter.

“Awww…” Pinkie replied, hanging her ears. “I wanted to hear you sing…”

“Where did you get a piano anyway?” I asked.

“Oh, I have pianos stashed all over Ponyville, in case of a parasprite emergency.”

“That …made a bit more sense than usual,” I said. Less than I’d like. Isn’t the idea to lead parasprites somewhere by playing music at them? You can’t really move around with a piano. …Eh, whatever, it’s Pinkie being Pinkie.

“Got a stool?” Mary finally asked. “I don’t think I can play a piano standing up.”

“Sure!” Pinkie said, pushing a stool into position. “So you’re going to sing?”

“I …can’t really sing,” Mary replied with a slightly strained smile. Really, there are humans who can’t sing? “But since you’ve gone to the trouble of bringing a piano, I might as well play something,” she added, settling onto the stool and flexing her fingers.

Pinkie settled down to lie on the lid of the piano, watching Mary’s fingers, and Mary started playing…

I’m not that into music, let alone classical music, to tell just how good she really was. But the melody itself was about as awesome as classical music gets. It’s hard to tell what it was about, without words and all, but the image of a bird valiantly fighting a sea storm kept floating through my mind, the waves her left hand was making washing over us, and the chords made with the right hand like irregular wingbeats of a falcon flying against the changing wind. It was scarcely three minutes long, but when it actually ended, I just stood there slack-jawed and looking at Mary clutching her left hand.

“Revolutionary Etude kills your left hand. Winter Wind kills your right hand,” she finally uttered. “I’m way too much out of practice, it was horrible,” she added with a sheepish smile.

“That was awesome,” I said honestly. Maybe not as awesome as me, but I can’t play a piano, so let’s not compare Apples to Oranges.

“Yes! Play some more!” Pinkie said, loudly bouncing up on the lid.

“Sorry, Pinkie. Hand hurts. Maybe at your next party,” Mary grinned at her, standing up and massaging the left hand.

“Pinkie promise me that!” Pinkie said, poking her with a hoof and making an accusing face.

“Absolutely no pinkie promises,” Mary replied, sternly looking back at Pinkie. “I’m definitely not making those when there’s even a slightest chance I might be unable to keep them.”

“Awww… Okie dokie, I’ll forgive you. If you tell me your birthday!” Pinkie grinned at her.

Mary paused. “You do have a knack for asking difficult questions, Pinkie.”

“Uh… Don’t you know when you were born?” I asked. I suppose I can imagine how this could happen, but those would be some very sad events. The kind that very rarely ever happen. I mean, there’s what, two orphanages in the entire Equestria? Three? Sounds like it’s not the same for humans, but come on.

“Oh, I do,” Mary said. “But that doesn’t mean I know when my birthday is. You celebrate a birthday when a whole number of years elapses since you were born, right?”

“Yes,” Pinkie nodded.

“Is that counting the time you lived through,” Mary asked with a mischievous grin, “or the time that elapsed for everypony else?”

“It’s your birthday, so the time you lived through, I guess…” I said, and then finally saw the problem. “Oh… Time travel again?”

“Stop being silly!” Pinkie poked Mary again, with an oddly serious, very un-Pinkie expression on her face. “A birthday is a party just for you. It’s not about how old you are, and not about how many candles to put on the cake! Pick a day and stick with it!”

“I have a better idea,” Mary grinned and poked Pinkie back with a finger. “You pick a day. Use your Pinkie Sense and surprise me.”

Pinkie pushed her face into Mary’s. “And I will! Prepare to be SURPRISED. You will have a birthday party this year!”

I snickered. “You just signed your own surprise warrant, Mary.”

Mary pulled away from Pinkie to snicker at me. “Oh really? I think Pinkie just walked into a logic hole.”

“Sorry, I don’t speak egghead,” I said. I guess now that Mary is around I’m going to have to ask Rarity for a T-shirt with that, because I will end up saying this at least once every day, together with Twilight they’ll be insufferable. But that’s going to make me look too dorky, so let’s not.

Mary looked back at Pinkie. “Suppose that I lived through this year to the end, with no birthday party in sight, and it’s the last day of the year. December 31st in your calendar, is it?”

“There are only thirty days in a month, Mary, even little fillies know that!” Pinkie bubbled, instantly switching away from the slightly threatening expression she had just moments ago.

Mary made a wry smile. “No matter. December 30th is the last day of the year, then.”

Pinkie nodded.

“…O-okay,” I said. She’s making me think, I hate that. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mary says she was born on the 31… th… nd… st… rd… argh! Day 31 of some month in some broken human calendar. I don’t know just what kind of stunt Pinkie might pull then, but my money’s on getting Princess Celestia to extend the year by one day just to accommodate that birthday and screw up the seasonal weather change schedule all across Equestria. That would be kind of awesome, but very uncool.

It’s a bit dangerous to taunt Pinkie like that.

“So if, on the morning of December 30th, I haven’t had a surprise birthday party yet, I would know, that I’m sure to have one on that day, and therefore it would not be a surprise,” Mary explained.

“There’s still a lot of days left in the year, you know,” I pointed out.

“But since I already know, that I can’t have a surprise birthday party on December 30th, I can apply the exact same logic to December 29th, because it would then become the last chance to surprise me remaining in the year,” Mary told me, grinning wide. “So December 29th is out. But once it is out, I can exclude December 28th… This logic continues all the way to today. So I can’t have a surprise birthday party.”

Pinkie suddenly threw her head up and laughed, “Mwahahahahahaha! Of course!” she exclaimed theatrically. “That’s exactly why every day is a surprise!”

“Oh blast, you knew this paradox,” Mary grinned back at Pinkie.

“No,” Pinkie snickered. “But it’s a fun one!”

I sighed. “Either Pinkie is a closet egghead, or every egghead is secretly as random as Pinkie,” I said, pointing my hoof at the two in accusation. “I don’t know which is worse, you, Mary, for turning a simple question into a… a logic puzzle, or you, Pinkie, for actually solving it!”

Mary giggled, first cautiously, then openly, and was immediately joined by Pinkie… and eventually, me.

I guess this human is cool enough to hang out with some more.

Conversation 11: Twilight Sparkle

“These are the earliest surviving historical documents, so they are about as reliable as the sources on this period get. Which means that sandwiches were known and popular for at least nine hundred years,” I concluded.

It’s annoying, but I can’t really call most collections of legends, prophecies and hearsay I’ve read reliable. I’ve spent the entire night double-checking and cross-referencing them, so I should know. Every single notable work older than two centuries is full of nonsense, like extensive descriptions of great civilizations of ponies with dog heads. Writing has been with us since before the Settlement, but rigorous study and recording of history? Not by a long shot. Now, thanks to the advances in archeology, we know more about the ancient kingdoms of jackals than about our own history, just because they kept better records! It’s amazing how lax we can get when we can rely on Princess Celestia’s wisdom. It actually made me feel a bit ashamed, because even the cursory description of human history I had access to looked more complete and well-researched than most of my library.

“If there ever was an inventor, we certainly have no clue,” I added. “So, does this help with your hypothesis?”

I was still far too sleepy to make anything but coffee, and I didn’t have the heart to wake Spike, either. Owlowiscious went to sleep soon after sunrise, and he can’t cook anyway, so we left them a note and ended up drifting all the way to Hay and Clover to grab an early brunch. I needed a lot of fresh air to actually get clear-headed enough to say something more important than a greeting, and a short summary of my findings was what I started with.

“Well, I can’t formulate one now, but I can at least explain myself…” Mary said, interrupted by the waiter bringing our order – my bowl of daisy salad and her plate with two cucumber and tomato sandwiches. “Thank you…” she smiled to the waiter before continuing. “Get ready for a lecture,” she said, raising a finger. “You have grown up with it and take it for granted, and you’re a unicorn, so much of it matters little to you. But pony culture rests on an astounding number of artifacts better adapted for a being with fingers,” she punctuated this by tapping the thin nail of her finger on the mushroom table, “rather than hooves. You paint with paintbrushes that can’t be comfortable to hold in your teeth. You have round handles on your doors, when long flat ones would be much more convenient. You play string instruments and pianos. I could go on listing these things for hours. Much of that is tradition, of course. It works, it’s good enough, so you keep making new doors with round handles and think nothing of it.”

With this way of looking at it, it did seem a bit odd. “Where are you going with this?”

She smiled. “Some of them might be cultural imports. Invented by griffons and used unchanged, made in minotaur factories, whatever, I don’t know. I’m sure you will correct me. But there are a few, which allow us to distinguish a world where ponies just use things others have invented from a much more interesting story. Like the why and how of eating a sandwich. Please take one. Show me how you would eat it,” she said, gently pushing her plate towards me in a smooth, calculated motion.

Still puzzled, I took a bite out of the sandwich and looked at the other one in her hand. She held it between her fingers, and a bite was already missing. After swallowing, she added. “So, do you see it?”

I looked at the remains of the sandwich. Then at the one in her hand. Still too sleepy. Is it about how I bit it straight off the plate? Even Rarity doesn’t always eat with magic, and she’s much more conscious about table manners than I have ever been… No, it can’t be that! Even if I were grazing in public, she wouldn’t care, she’s not a pony!

But Mary was still talking. “Ponies are magically capable of holding things with their hooves, applying considerable force, and don’t appear to think much about it. However, in the particular case of a sandwich… Well, try picking it up with your hoof.”

I tried. The sandwich came apart, and I was left staring at the half-eaten half-sandwich and a piece of bread in my hoof. I dropped the bread back and tried again. Point made, I guess. But I wonder what that point is. It took me a couple more attempts before I managed to grab it, constantly thinking just how clumsy it feels, and in the end I decided to just chow it down before I make a mess, levitating the bits around.

“Now here’s a little something you don’t know,” Mary commented, watching me struggle with the food, “In the majority of human worlds, the form known as the sandwich was invented by, or at least, for, one John Montagu, the lord of a place called Sandwich. This distinguished statesman would engross himself both in his work and in gambling so deeply, that he would refuse to break for food. He needed a snack he could eat using just one hand while keeping the fingers dry.” She thrust her hand with the sandwich in it across the table to punctuate. “That convenience is the only reason a sandwich with two slices of bread exists.”

It only took me a moment to connect the dots and follow the logic, this time. “…Using only one slice of bread would make it tastier. For the convenience of holding food with one hoof, we have pita and burritos, which can’t fall apart, and even quesadillas…” I shivered involuntarily. Hate quesadillas. “Cupcakes, muffins, cookies… There’s no reason to adopt a sandwich with two slices at all!… But why?!”

“No idea,” she shrugged. “Which is why I can’t formulate a hypothesis yet. If the sandwich had a history, maybe. As it is… Your story tree has one rather uncommon, very peculiar property, you see.”

“Magic?” I wondered. “For me, it still seems to be the biggest single difference between our worlds. Beside us being completely different species, I mean.” Her house did hatch from an egg, somehow… But that egg came from yet another world.

“No,” Mary replied, shaking her head, “High decoherence. Plainly, a multiple choice past. In your case, numerous, very similar worlds exist, which have evolved in radically divergent ways. Knowing how it happened in some of them tells me nothing about this one.”

“How did it happen in all the others, then?” I asked.

“Like it or not, we live in a human-dominated universe,” Mary stated in a faintly apologetic tone. “Every story is about people, but the majority of those people aren’t pony-shaped. In some of these, ponies have been borrowing from an extinct or distant human civilization. In others, ponies are transformed humans, enchanted into this form for one reason or another. In yet others, ponies are an artificial race, originally created by humans for a specific purpose.”

“Does that happen often?” I interrupted.

Mary tilted her head to the side, thinking. “I didn’t actually read any of those stories, so you’d have to ask Rika. Anyway… All of these could conceivably produce exactly the same present state. But since the sandwich still exists, and you didn’t say it’s a traditional ritual snack or minotaur national cuisine, I think none of that is true here.” She grinned playfully at me. “Whatever it is, it’s a fascinating mystery, don’t you think?”

…Aha, gotcha! “It is,” I nodded. “But somehow, I would never have expected it would be a mystery to you,” I smiled. Either she doesn’t actually support her own theory, or there’s a lot more to it.

“Why?” she asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

“Your story theory states that any world is identical with a story. You accept that a story has an author somewhere,” I explained. “Doesn’t that imply, that the sandwich exists merely because the author of this particular story is a human? That this is just how they imagined ponies living?” Let’s see her wiggle her way out of that.

Mary grinned back at me. Here it comes… “After you have defeated Nightmare Moon with the magic of friendship, Princess Celestia has so decreed, that you are to remain in Ponyville and keep studying that magic. That decree is obviously the only reason you’re still here, and otherwise you’d move back to Canterlot,” she said with a hint of sarcasm.

“Princess Celestia did that because she knew my friends live here!” I huffed. “Oh.” I know what Mary actually meant. This roundabout way of making statements is slowly but surely getting on my nerves. They can both be so smug about knowing the objection you’re going to make… “So your position is that this hypothetical authorship and the actual chain of cause and effect are somehow interconnected?”

“At least sometimes,” Mary agreed. “But in general, stories are self-consistent. Take, for example, the language. We aren’t speaking the same one. We are speaking two different, mutually intelligible languages, which aren’t even related. For me, the word ‘crusade’ derives from ‘marked with a cross,’ and has complex historical connotations, which color the meaning. Look it up. What does this word mean to you?”

“…I think it just means ‘a heroic quest,’” I answered, after poking around in my memory. “It’s derived from ‘crossing the borders.’ The first ponies called crusaders were the legendary travelers who explored distant lands.” At least, I’m sure the exploration aspect was why the Cutie Mark Crusaders have adopted it, that’s what these fillies do all the time.

“Which is very different from the bloody wars of conquest in the name of religion that humans call ‘crusades,’” Mary commented. “It will be even more obvious if we compare obscenity, profanity and slang. Being a story explains the coincidence itself, but not the incidence. Rika dismisses it as immaterial, but that’s silly. Like two straight lines crossing, two similar worlds will go in different directions from the point in which they look the same. Even if there is an author who just decided they should exist, the reason sandwiches do exist is something genuinely yours.”

That was certainly a novel idea. “You know, this entire conversation feels exactly like Professor Ravenhoof giving Daring Do a clue that starts her next adventure,” I mentioned. Ancient civilizations, forgotten temples, mysterious artifacts… I’ve always wanted to have a Daring Do adventure, and this question certainly has that ancient history color. But please, this time, let’s just keep the fate of all Equestria out of it. A scavenger hunt across the continent, through trials and dangers, that ends with discovering a tome of forgotten wisdom and magic, that would be really sweet.

…When did I get so used to exciting things happening, that a Daring Do adventure seems relaxing, anyway?

Mary just smiled in response. “This is what being an extreme historian really means. I have just set you on a path that will alter the history of this world, and it started with a sandwich.” She glanced towards the sky. “Actually, I did it the very moment I first saw you, we’re just filling out the details now.”

Suddenly, an idea struck me. This is one of those questions that I need to put to rest as soon as possible… Awkward things happening early just gets me more time to smooth them over. “Tell me, Mary… Did you come to our world to be the extreme historian? For ponies, I mean?” I asked, after spending almost half a minute searching for the phrasing that wouldn’t sound too offensive. She’ll just answer that and I’ll be able to dismiss Applejack’s worries for good.

“I’ve been waiting for this one…” Mary said, and smiled softly at me. “Yes and no. It’s a long story. The short of it is… This trip is primarily the result of a promise made to Rika. Her grand purpose in life is to exterminate despair, you see.”

That sounded so matter of fact and so cryptic at the same time, that I couldn’t help but stare at her. “…Why?!”

“Ask her what a magical girl is,” Mary replied. “She will explain. Might take a while, though.”

Isn’t any unicorn mare a magical girl? I guess I can write that down for later. “…How exactly do you exterminate despair in the first place?”

“Usually, with overwhelming force,” Mary said in a flat tone. “Lots of problems can be solved by proper application of high explosives, that’s not the issue. Her unique problem is that doing this doesn’t actually change anything. Entering a world and taking an active part in it only means that now, two worlds exist. One which she visited, and one she never did. From the Library point of view, a story can’t be rewritten.”

“I can see how this would be a problem,” I agreed. I’m not sure I understand the rules of that mysterious Library properly, but this one sounds like it could make anypony miserable…

“When she first brought this up, I told her that this is not an excuse to stop trying,” Mary continued. “That even if eradicating despair in a given world does not reduce the total amount of despair in the universe, it indirectly increases the amount of hope. She’s been trying to get me to tell her what to do ever since. Whether it’s out of spite, or because she really thinks that this works better than going in with guns blazing, I honestly don’t know.”

“So that’s a ‘yes,’” I said. Now I have another question just for Rika. Actually, where is she? Humans seem to have such unusual ways of …being friends. Unless Mary is actually trying to tell me that she has a friendship problem. There’s more than just a friendship lesson in this, it seems like an entirely new class of problem… “But there was also a ‘no.’”

“There was,” Mary nodded subtly. “Your world might not be perfect, but it’s a happy place. Some humans even see Equestria as a paradise, a posthumous reward for suffering in life. Some even receive that reward. I’m simply not qualified to mess with that, so I’m determined not to. The question about the sandwich was a momentary indiscretion,” She pulled a slightly unnatural smile onto her face. “But what’s done… is done. I could have gone home yesterday, and it would still be done.”

That felt incongruous, and so theatrically tragic, that I laughed. “I doubt that asking me a question, or even sending me on an adventure, is enough to change the world.” I know I’m not exactly a nopony, but seriously.

“I know that the set of ponies who can actually solve this mystery, and the set of those who are curious enough to try probably only intersect on you. And I know, that whatever the answer is, it will be much more important than it might appear. Give yourself some credit, Twilight,” Mary replied, looking at me with a serious expression on her face. “I do have an eye for these things.”

I need to revise my checklist of questions to ask her, but I guess I might as well ask this one right now.

“Sorry to pry, but… uh… did you mean the golden one?” I asked. I just hope she isn’t too sensitive about that, because that could be be even more embarrassing than the question she just answered.

Mary tried to laugh, but it came out muffled with a full mouth and she had to swallow before answering, “No, it’s just a figure of speech. The blue one, if you insist. The golden eye is far more trouble than it is worth. For much of my life, it was completely blind, and when it started seeing, I wished I didn’t have it. If I wasn’t too squeamish to put it out, I wouldn’t have it by now.”

I cringed at that. Ew. Suddenly seeing double would be a pain, but would it be enough to make me think of something so… so drastic?

“It’s currently insisting you’re a human girl wearing a pale blue shirt and rather unfashionable glasses,” Mary added. “In watercolors. On a paper cutout.”

That was Pinkie-level unexpected. “Well, it’s certainly wrong about that!” I burst.

“I know. I just live with that constant stream of nonsense in my visual field,” Mary explained. “I thought it’s actually looking into the next world over for a while, but no, that’s not it… It just has opinions.”

“Did the doctors have anything to say about that?” I wondered. “I’m assuming you did seek help…”

She actually burst out laughing. “Seriously, Twilight? Any attempt to admit I have ‘hallucinations’ would cause a conversation with a psychiatrist. Being a time traveler, convincing one that I’m sane wouldn’t be fun.”

She seems to be taking it in good humor, at least. “…Are you?” I poked cautiously, putting on a friendly smile.

“Did I manage to convince you?” Mary grinned back. “If I did, I say I’m sane enough.”

I’m not sure that is how it works.

Author's Note

This is my trailer shot. That is, this is the scene depicted on the cover. This also finally spells out the beginning of the last primary plot thread.

Events are going to progress slightly faster from this point on… :)

The idea about the word ‘crusade’ and the whole concept of perpendicular linguistic development, which will turn up again, came to me while reading a very interesting book called Holy Sh*t: A Brief History of Swearing which I heartily recommend. If you want to figure out what would ponies have for expletives, that’s the food for thought you need.

Conversation 12: Lyra Heartstrings

“Why are you asking me?” the human said. I think that one’s name was “Mary,” but I’ve had a bit too much to drink at the party, and now the memory of yesterday was more like the morning haze of tomorrow. “As far as I know, ponies are the only creatures in the universe to have those.”

Yes, that’s Mary. I remember the smell. Mary smells of some kind of lavender perfume, while the other human smells of that stuff they sell to those who think that a fire hazard is better than forgetting to feed your fireflies. I think it’s called kerosene.

I was chilling on my favorite park bench with a smoothie, and right there, on the other end of the bench, Mary was fending off an attack of Cutie Mark Crusaders, poor thing. They’re well on their way to becoming the next legendary adorable town menace, right after Pinkie. But Pinkie isn’t anywhere as destructive as three little fillies can be, so that will be the end of my hometown. Ah, such is life…

“Zecora’s a zebra, she has a cutie mark!” Apple Bloom countered.

“Oh?” the human grinned back, sensing an opening to divert some of the pressure away. “Did you ask her what it means?”

Sweetie Belle furrowed her brows, squeezed her eyes shut, and recited, “It represents the embodiment of a cosmogonic sacrament, the emergence of cosmos out of the primordial amorphousness, and the subsequent ontogenesis.” Oh my, they grow up so fast!

“Something lame like that,” Scootaloo commented, “She somehow made that rhyme, I have no idea how, because I can’t even repeat that, that was kinda cool. But the version Sweetie says is lame.”

“And ah say most of these arn’t even words,” Apple Bloom stated.

Sweetie Belle glared at her friends. “It’s not lame, and they so are!”

I’d better bail the human out before the children have a fight over something stupid. Or before Mary discovers a method to hypnotize the fillies and eat their brains with lettuce and a glass of orange juice. “Hey, girls. So you’re crusaders, right?” I asked.

“Cutie Mark Crusaders, ayup!” Apple Bloom proclaimed.

“So what’s your theme song?” I prodded.

“Ummm… do we need one?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“Yes,” I insisted, “All crusaders should have a theme song. It’s in the rules.” Rules I just made up, but it is!

Scootaloo stared at me like I just told her to eat a lemon. “There are rules?”

Bon-Bon keeps telling me I’m good with children. Let’s see just how good. “More like guidelines,” I corrected myself, “but wouldn’t it be lame not to have a theme song?”

Aha! The three fillies huddled together and started whispering amongst themselves. I didn’t quite hear what they said, and wasn’t even sure they were on the right track after hearing the words “piano,” “flugelhorn” and “pineapple” in what should have been the same sentence, but eventually, Scootaloo’s head popped up.

“We’ll get back to you on that, miss Lyra,” she said with a wide mischievous grin, and the Crusaders ran off simultaneously in three different directions without even saying goodbye, but chorusing instead, “CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS SONG COMPOSERS!”

Oh sweet Celestia, what have I done.

Mary slumped back onto the bench, a very obvious expression of relief on her face. “Thank you.”

I smiled at her. “Don’t mention it, that’s what friends are for,” I said. The word “friends” sent a faint, barely perceptible twitch across her face, like a nervous tick. I wonder if I managed to say something wrong.

“Wait,” she said suddenly, looking me over in detail. “Your full name is Lyra Heartstrings, right?” she inquired, leaning slightly in my direction.

“The one and only, yes,” I confirmed, and then immediately put my hoof to my mouth. “Sh-h-h-h-h,” I whispered. “There’s a heartsong about to start!”

Mary froze, scanning the park with her eyes like a hawk, which looks kinda creepy when the eyes don’t quite move in the same direction. But even her senses eventually picked up the music of harmony, as a melody reached us from somewhere in the direction of the park fountain.

There is a mare in Canterlot
They call the Rising Sun
She loves all ponies in this world
Of them I am but one…

An unfamiliar gray unicorn stallion with silver coins for his cutie mark – one of the endless Canterlot ponies coming over for a country weekend, I think – was singing a heartfelt sad blues song. There’s no chorus or dancing spots on this one, it’s a solo…

Mary jumped up, clearly intent to walk in the direction of the fountain. Damn it! I immediately grabbed her by the arm, whispering, “It’s very impolite to intercept a heartsong, even little fillies know that! If you can’t join in, just stay quiet!”

“You don’t get it!” Mary whispered loudly, sitting back, “I’ve scoured all of New Orleans for…”

“No, you don’t get it,” I interrupted her. “It’s a song of unrequited love for Princess Celestia!”

“I understand that much,” Mary hissed, “I just really want to know where he heard it!”

“Nowhere, it’s a heartsong!” I replied.

That finally shut her up. She folded her arms on her chest, quietly listening and fidgeting as the song went on.

Oh mother, tell your children
Not to go where I have gone
Don’t waste your youth and energy
While chasing for the Sun.

“I think I need to ask you to explain,” Mary said slightly louder, as the song started winding down.

I gave the stallion a few more seconds to relax and walk off, his head held low. I hope he has a friend nearby, he needs one. A stranger like me wouldn’t be much help… Only when he finally was out of earshot, I turned back to Mary, “Don’t you know what a heartsong is? Really?”

“Well, I can guess what it is. Actually, I was kind of wondering whether they’re real or not…”

Hu-u-uh?!

“But humans tend not to sing except as part of an arranged performance. There might be human worlds like that, somewhere, but I was convinced it’s just a narrative device…” Mary explained. “Back home, improvising a whole song is pretty much unheard of. How does this work, anyway?”

The mind boggles. “Uh…” I stammered out. It’s like explaining this to a four year old, but at least I can use bigger words. “When somepony needs to express enough emotion to start a heartsong, you can feel it, you just need to learn to recognize it. It will often offer you to join, especially if it’s your friend or somepony you like singing. Some ponies are more harmonic than others, and can lead a bigger chorus, but it happens to everypony eventually. If it’s really important, you can even have a duet with somepony in the next town over.”

“Gr-r-reat,” Mary sighed, rolling the “r” like a bowling ball. “So where does the melody come from? And who plays it?”

“Part of the magic of harmony,” I explained. Seriously, what kind of a world these humans live in anyway? “If there are musicians around who can play, they might, and it will be better. But harmony will provide, even if you’re alone.”

Mary slumped back on the bench and glanced at me with a pouty face. “There’s a song in my world, it’s called ‘House of the Rising Sun,’” she started. “The lyrics make no sense, there are at least seven different interpretations of why the singer is supposed to be so sad. They’ve been changed around a lot. Every generation feels compelled to record their own, updated version, which usually makes even less sense.” Mary chuckled. “There was a time I really wanted to track down where it actually came from…”

“Sounds like a heartsong to me,” I affirmed. “One that outlived the pony… er… human who sang it first. Most heartsongs never repeat, but some return for a reprise, and some live on. Definitely a heartsong.” Is it just me, or does she simply not believe in harmony? Br-r-r-r, chilling. I’ve had characters who don’t, I didn’t think such people could actually exist. Or is it that her world is really so sad, that it has to repeat the same heartsong forever like a scream of pain?… Actually, that’s even more chilling.

“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work quite this way back home,” Mary stated, raising a finger. “That’s why it’s so interesting to find the exact same melody here.”

“Heartsong lore isn’t something you learn from books,” I smirked. “You just pick it up as you go along. You learn something new and wonderful every day if you keep your ears open. Today, I learned that heartsongs can cross worlds.”

“I wonder…” she said, looking at me curiously. “Is what you just told me common or specialized knowledge?”

“I don’t get to explain it often,” I replied. “But I’m a lyricist. Most ponies can get by without, but I have to understand these things.”

“…Don’t you mean ‘lyrist?’” Mary asked.

“I can play guitar, a bit, and I’ve dabbled in playing a violin, that doesn’t make me a lyrist. What gave you that idea?” I wondered. That was an understatement of the year, too. “Dabbled” should really be “destroyed three violins trying to make them play what I wanted,” the first one all the way back in school.

“Your cutie mark,” Mary said, glancing down at my flank.

I looked at it myself. Is there something wrong with my cutie mark?… It took me a few seconds to understand her thought process. “…I keep forgetting that you’re not a pony…” I sighed, “Ponies whose special talent has to do with music normally have a musical notation symbol for their cutie mark. Hardly anypony even plays a lyre anymore. It is a symbol of poetry.” I said.

Mary slapped her face with her palm in sudden realization. “Well, damn!” Looks like she knew that.

“I’m best at long epics,” I explained, “but you can’t really make a living with those in this day and age, so I write for Bridleway musicals. Just don’t tell anypony,” I winked at her, “most of them still think I’m a struggling poet, and I kind of like not being stalked by pegarazzi. It’s sort of a secret.”

“Is it really a good idea to tell me that, then?” Mary asked, making a faint smirk.

“Well, at least I’m sure that if a reporter meets you, I won’t be their story,” I grinned back. “Visitors from another world are by far the bigger news.”

“Oh, don’t remind me…” Mary muttered, progressively twisting her smirk into a frown.

I really wanted to tell her about the wedding to cheer her up. That would be news so big, that newspapers would obsess over it for at least half a year afterwards, which would surely make us both sufficiently uninteresting. But Cadance asked to keep it quiet, so I had to make an effort to keep my mouth shut. Something about Shining Armor still not having told his sister, who lives in Ponyville… Yeah, I’m a bit of a gossip, so sue me.

Wait, no, please don’t sue me, that would be both public and expensive.

“How fine a picture now I see,” somepony said from behind my back. “My friend, my neighbor friend-to-be.”

“Oh, hello, Zecora,” was what I said out loud instead, turning to her with a friendly smile. “I take it you haven’t met Mary yet.”

Zecora addressed Mary in her most enigmatic voice, as if she were delivering a prophecy, “Hello, well met, and other greetings. This is a most auspicious meeting.” While Mary was wondering how to react to that, Zecora turned to me instead. “Your poems ring, as usual, true,” she said, reaching into her saddlebag for what had to be the envelope with my manuscript. “The Return of Nightmare” – mostly written based on Pinkie’s version of the story, except the parts that I was present for myself, which wasn’t much. The variation told by Rainbow Dash has been growing in the number of fights ever since she started telling it, and by now consists of little else, so it wasn’t much use. “I knew the verse was strong with you.”

As I took the envelope, in the corner of my eye, I noticed Mary’s face subtly twitch again. “Thanks,” I said, blushing. How did Zecora find out that “Apple Colt Webber” is my pen name, I’ll never know, and getting her to explain anything complicated unambiguously is… well, difficult. The language of poetry is descriptive, but rarely precise. She seemed to imply she recognized my style. Why she liked my poems better than the musicals, when the only one she knew was “The Ballad of King Grover,” which honestly isn’t that good, if at all, I’ll never know either. But I definitely appreciate the praise of a zebra who can rhyme in a foreign language without spending hours agonizing over every line.

“I was sure Pinkie would invite you for the welcome party, Zecora,” Mary said. “It honestly surprised me she didn’t.”

“She tried, as Pinkie wont to do,” Zecora explained. “Please do not see a slight to you, but parties aren’t my cup of tea. For which I’d rather invite thee.”

I actually suspect that this is part of her whole mysterious shaman shtick. With all that being a zebra, that is, looking like the craziest pony you ever saw, it’s a perfectly natural fit as far as pony eyes are concerned. She’s been a hoot with the children on Nightmare Night and just about every other town function, ever since Cherilee first talked her into it. And I know for a fact that she’s running a quiet market for discreet folk medical services, particularly ones you feel embarrassed about… I’m not supposed to know that quite a few ponies make regular visits to her shack, but being a gossip works both ways. They’re all lucky you can’t get Fluttershy to talk even under threat of tickle torture.

“I’d be delighted, assuming I can even find your home,” Mary smiled.

“There is a trick, a secret sign. You need to walk a hidden line,” Zecora started. “Before we go, I must avail. I’m here to pick up my mail.”

“Which is exactly where I was planning to go next, by the way, I need a newspaper subscription…” Mary commented, standing up and looking at me with a polite smile. “It’s been very nice talking to you, Lyra.”

“See you around, girls,” I grinned, watching them walk off in the direction of the post office and listening to the receding lines of dialogue.

“Pardon me for asking, but what is your native land really called – Zebrica or Zebrabwe?”

“With either name you’re doomed to fail. From Zebriopia I hail.”

I suddenly felt that awkward premonition that something worthy of an epic poem is about to happen in the near future… I can almost hear the noises of a theater, the audience slowly filling the seats, the musicians tuning their instruments, muffled coughs of stage crew in the wings, the faint hum of lighting tech’s magic, and me, arguing with the director and peeking out from behind the curtain.

I wonder why.

Author's Note

Not the best chapter, I’m afraid. I needed to introduce another important character, so we had to take a short break from the plot for some more exposition…

Fun fact: I have investigated every Lyra appearance in every level of canon, from episodes all the way down to chapter books, and failed to find a single lyre anywhere in the vicinity. Except the ones on pony flanks. No, really, what brought this on? “Anthropology?” Sure, it’s a classic, but you can’t always emulate the classics. Occasionally, she is called a musician, but she is never actually shown involved in music.

Why don’t the CMC have their themesong already? Well, due to the episodes occurring in anachronic order, the whole story of their club house and the school talent contest actually hasn’t happened to them yet, but is due to happen in a few weeks…

Conversation 13: Twilight Sparkle

I mentally cursed Mary and her question for the umpteenth time today.

Because I see sandwiches everywhere.

Not actual sandwiches, of course, but things just as mind-bending as the sandwiches. There is that possibility that I’m just too clumsy with my hooves, having never used them quite as much as most of my friends would, but there’s no denying that I actually prefer to dictate whenever Spike is around for a reason. Sandwiches themselves are sketchy, reasons to adopt a two-slice sandwich other than the one Mary cited might exist. I can’t see any, but they might.

But that is really beside the point. Everywhere I look, everything I look at, I find simple ways to improve the lives of ponies just by making things we already use more adapted to our anatomy, so much, that it becomes painful to watch everypony struggle with day to day tasks without even noticing. We waste staggering amounts of effort. Shovels, pencils, saws, hammers, knives, bags, zippers, doors… And the only tools I can remember that are distinctly adapted for ponies are the yoke used to pull carts and that fancy umbrella saddle that Rarity has. And I’m sure she only has that because it goes with her raincoat. Which she only made because she looks good in it, everypony else just memorizes the rain schedule posted by the town hall. Without our special talents being boosted by the magic of cutie marks, many tasks would become too difficult to do in the volumes required, our civilization would crumble in weeks. Agriculture wouldn’t be able to keep up, even with earth pony magic, we would be reduced to grazing. If she had to graze, Rarity would actually prefer to starve, together with half the population of Canterlot.

Those teacups with those round loops on the side. I saw Mary put a finger through it like it’s the most natural thing in the world. It lets her vulnerable fingers avoid the heat of tea. Hooves just aren’t that sensitive to temperature. Even Spike only puts his talon through the loop when he tries to make a show of table manners. But it was my teacup. Why the hay didn’t I just buy a simple, elegant bowl, when I levitate them anyway?! They use bowls in Saddle Arabia! Why not a square bowl with flat sides and round top, to hold it easily with my hoof? Just because the shops didn’t have any on offer? I could use flower vases, these come in all shapes and sizes! They’re even prettier, and nopony would be able to tell!

We can’t simply be too stupid to notice that!

New tools are invented all the time, and they all seem to have the exact same faults. Even if, as Mary supposed, we were somehow enchanted into this form, or inherited something else’s legacy, this would not explain new inventions not being adapted as new ponies are born and invent new things. Which suggests a magical cause, something so strong as to affect the minds of everypony, subtle and insidious, all across Equestria at the same time. It does not prevent me from seeing it, now that I know what to look for, but prevents the thought from naturally coming to my mind, some kind of all-consuming cognitive blight.

I don’t know of any spells as strong and complex as that would require, not by a long shot, but I must at least accept the possibility they might exist. But this spell would have to affect our imaginations, uninterrupted, for centuries on end. Since time immemorial. It scares me.

Who could possibly cast such a spell?! Are they still around? Why would anypony do something like that? Were they even a pony? Argh, I can’t take it anymore!

“Twilight, why exactly are you banging your head on the ground?” a voice said somewhere behind me. Mary. “Ponies are starting to stare at you.”

“I can’t think of a way of testing my hypothesis, so I’m shaking my brain around, hoping an idea rolled behind an ear,” I replied. “It’s not helping.”

“Oh?” she said, crouching next to me on the grass and looking at the encyclopedia I was still reading. It was open on the section describing farm tools. “Well, let’s hear the hypothesis then, maybe I can help.”

“I’ve been thinking about your sandwich problem,” I told her. “Your encyclopedias describe many tools we also use, and many of them have a known history here. You were right about some of them being imports. The modern door lock and its accompanying round handle were invented by Iron Pin a hundred years ago – Iron Pin was a minotaur locksmith from Manehattan. The lyre was invented by griffons, they used animal guts for string back then. But the first violin was made in Cloudsdale, and had silver strings! Musicians still make the bows from their own tail hair! Most of the Canterlot Philarmonic Orchestra members are earth ponies! The only explanation I can think of would be magic, which is merely the least absurd explanation I have!”

“It doesn’t sound particularly absurd to me. Equestria isn’t called ‘the magical land’ for nothing,” she commented, carefully settling to sit on the grass. Those legs of hers must be just as uncomfortable to have in Ponyville as they’re painful to watch… huh?

“Who calls it that?” I stared at her. “I have never heard Equestria called ‘the magical land.’ This is nonsense, every land has at least some magic.”

Mary looked back at me with a raised eyebrow. “Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria, there were two regal sisters, who ruled together…” she recited. “That’s how your story starts. Episode one, season one. Or rather, that’s how your mainline starts.”

“You keep using that word,” I accused. I don’t think it means what I think it means.

Mary shrugged, “It’s a Library term, I don’t entirely understand it myself. Stories within a tree tend to have a certain corpus of shared events. Rika tends to explain the difference between mainline and local events in crazy terms, which I am sure she actually misuses, like ‘commit history.’ In most trees, the version of a story with the highest print run in other stories is the mainline.”

I felt a deep emotional dread at that last remark. “How does a story get multiple versions in one world, anyway?” I asked. I just had to confirm.

Mary’s response was so dispassionate, that it made me sure she not merely expected the question, but actually practiced for it. “Book version, movie adaptation, other media, derivative stories…”

“What kind of derivative stories?” I pressured.

“Ever heard of fan fiction?” Mary replied, finally confirming my suspicions.

Oh horsefeathers… No, I’m leaving all the potential implications of this for later. I haven’t accepted her theory. There are no sound logical grounds on which I could accept it, just like I can’t dismiss it, therefore, I don’t have to think about it. There have to be other interpretations of available data. Ones that don’t make us horrible ponies just because we think.

Mental note: Burn all my Daring Do fics just in case.

“How does your story start, then?” Just trying to take my mind off it.

“With a foreword from the editor,” Mary replied, and quoted, “History typically presents events from an abstract, objective point of view, which does not belong to anyone in particular, and therefore, does not actually exist…”

She glanced at me, waiting for my reaction, but I had none to offer. I’m not sure what kind of a story starts like that.

After a slightly strained pause she smiled at me. “I’d rather not recite the whole thing, my story is an incessant stream of footnotes for a story about other people. But speaking of points of view… From a human point of view, Equestria has a very good claim to the title of ‘the magical land.’”

Back to the matter at hoof, right. “That’s the problem. There is no doubt a magic cause is possible, that’s not the absurd thing. The absurd thing is that no such magic exists. Even if it did, it would have to stay in effect for millennia and affect all of Equestria, and hide to remain undetected,” I sighed. “I can’t imagine anypony actually casting something so complex, except maybe Princess Celestia. But that’s the thing about the princess, nopony really knows the limits of her magic. So if you’re up to thinking she’s responsible, you might as well blame her for your every breath and stop wondering. That would be a… an un-theory,” I said, dropping my head back onto the encyclopedia.

“What about Discord?” Mary inquired.

I carefully peeled myself off the book to stare at her. “Seriously?! ‘Discord Law,’ just like that?”

Mary just raised her eyebrows back at me. “Do the words ‘Discord’ and ‘law’ even belong on the same page?”

Oh, right, she wouldn’t know. I sighed. “For a time, every puzzle in ancient history and many problems of physics were explained away by saying that Discord made it so. They actually believed he took over the entire Equestria and screwed up time itself. That’s been so discredited, it’s something of an academic joke now, the ‘Discord Law.’ Whoever invokes Discord first, loses the argument.”

“But I thought that’s exactly what Princess Celestia told you when she summoned you six to Canterlot,” Mary pointed out. “‘Ruled Equestria in an eternal state of unrest,’ if my memory serves me right.”

I imagine it was easy to misinterpret something like that when taken out of context… “She was talking to all of us, and I was the only one who had any prior knowledge of the subject, she couldn’t really go into detail. And I think she suspected he was listening.”

“So what did happen?” Mary pressed.

“He would flood a polis with custard and toy with the ponies until the Princesses came to fight him,” I explained. “Then he would taunt them, retreat, and attack another one. It wasn’t even a war, more of a monster rampage, and it only lasted a few months. Few places got permanently damaged, but he left a lasting memory everywhere. He’s just a very powerful chaos magic user of unknown origin, with delusions of grandeur and a really nasty personality.” Chaos magic is the one type of magic I still can’t wrap my head around, but I know it’s magic, even if I can’t replicate it.

Mary looked at me suspiciously. “So essentially, Discord never even mattered.”

“Oh, his influence was actually quite significant,” I said. “Custard destroyed lots of priceless books and documents, so in a way, he is responsible for making a mess out of history.” No more than ponies are, but I think I’m not telling her that. “But chaos magic has limits, which have been studied much better since, even if it is mostly theory. And in the case of sandwiches, being a statue kind of gives him an alibi.”

“I wonder,” Mary commented, “how is it that Nightmare Moon was an old pony’s tale, and Princess Luna was forgotten entirely, if you knew this much about Discord?”

Sometimes, talking to an alien feels like I got voted in to present a class project. One that the entire Equestria was supposed to participate in, but didn’t. “Blaming things on Discord got so bad, that Princess Celestia had to set the record straight just to avoid being worshiped together with him.”

“Well, let us consider the remaining possibilities,” Mary said, tossing her head back and staring up into the clouds. “Does any magic comparable in scale exist?”

“Power requirements for the celestial motion spells are actually lower than what a mind-altering spell like that would need, and they are the most powerful spells in common use,” I stated. “Without the Princesses, you need a whole conclave to cast them, and the casters still risk permanent burnout. Even these spells aren’t anywhere as complex as this would be. Minds are a difficult thing to influence,” I said flatly, dropping my face onto the book again. I know exactly how difficult and how easy it is to screw up even on a small scale, don’t remind me.

“So we can establish that there are no spellcasters capable of such effects. But pegasi flight is magical in nature, and as far as I know, they don’t cast spells to perform it,” Mary ventured.

I looked up at Mary, and found her intently staring at my face. “Actually… The Elements of Harmony are the most powerful magical objects known, and they are not, strictly speaking, a spell, or even an enchantment. Even the act of using them itself is not really a spell,” I replied.

“Don’t they come from some sort of one-of-a-kind magical tree?” Mary asked uncertainly.

Where did she hear that? Even I have never heard about such a tree. Her knowledge of Equestria is very spotty, I remember how she wasn’t sure that we have a banking system, and wondered if we have a city called “Stalliongrad.” What a silly name… But at times this knowledge is uncannily deep.

Is this really how a work of fiction presents a world? I suppose it has to… Fairytale characters don’t poop. And while I would have no problem assuming they do visit the bathroom somewhere between pages if they’re ponies, if they were humans, basic necessities of life, like sanitation facilities, would be really difficult to imagine for me if Mary’s encyclopedia did not have a page devoted to this very subject. I would have the same problem with lots of everyday things, from toothbrushes to train fare.

That has to be the real reason she didn’t want to stay in the library with me, or live in town. These little things can cause no end of embarrassment, so she is trying to limit the points of contact to what she is confident about before she can know more. I guess I shouldn’t try to invite her for a slumber party anytime soon… if they even have the concept.

Shame. I wonder what kind of ghost stories would she tell. Or how would she take to Truth or Dare.

“I don’t actually know where they came from, but there’s no claim they are actually artificial. It is possible they’re a natural magic,” I finally said.

“Well, that’s some progress at least, isn’t it,” Mary smiled. “So, can we assume, that this hypothetical spell effect is a natural magical effect, or the effect of a natural magical object?”

We sure can.

And it would explain a lot, too. Far from everything, but a lot.

Of course, it would raise even more questions, but at least this sounds like something I can research.

I was about to say that, but something stopped me. That something was the sight of the most bizarre procession I’ve seen since the parasprite infestation: Pinkie, wearing a construction helmet with a blinking warning light, backing up along the street and guiding Big Macintosh with a gigantic cake precariously balanced on his back. They were being assisted by Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash, tugging the cake back and forth with ropes and trying desperately to keep it upright, which was presumably the silliest solution Pinkie could come up with. The ensemble was completed by Mrs. and Mr. Cake, with the latter actually fainting every few steps as the cake took one dangerous dip to the side after another, and Applejack, watching them all with a worried expression on her face from a position outside the projected cake splash radius.

The helmet was par for the course for Pinkie, and I did know the Cakes were planning an entry into that confectionery competition for months, but together, it still looked ridiculous beyond words and even beyond laughter.

“Twilight? Can I see you a second?” Pinkie yelled across the street. “Oh, and hi Mary! Do you like the Marzipan Mascarpone Meringue Madness? It’s Mr. Cake’s entry for the National Desert Competition! The most fantabulous cake EVER!”

“Looks delicious!” Mary shouted back. “Looks like your friends need help,” she added quietly, and cautiously patted me on the back. “I have a hunch they won’t make it without you.”

I yelled back at Pinkie, “Just a moment,” and gave Mary a suspicious glance. “A hunch? That fiction of yours covered what to me is future, didn’t it. You’re still an extreme historian, even without your time machine. You can’t help it. I know I couldn’t, if I were you. Just how much of my future do you know?”

“Possible future,” Mary said, raising a finger. “I do know of a few things which are likely to happen, and we can talk about them later if you want. But I can’t for the life of me remember what exactly happens to that cake in the end.”

“Twilight!” Applejack yelled, as Big Mac stumbled again and the cake took another dip, to the sound of gnashing teeth of my pegasi friends.

“I don’t need any foreknowledge to say, that if you don’t go, it will end in tears right now,” Mary commented.

Well, if nothing else, it would be a welcome distraction from banging my head on the ground. “Coming!” I shouted, stuffing the book into my saddlebag, and got up to trot towards the cake.

They really should have planned this whole cake business more thoroughly, or at least asked me for advice. Transporting the kitchen supplies and prepared ingredients to Canterlot and baking it on site would be so much easier… I know Mrs. Cake’s babies are due soon, so Mr. Cake not wanting to leave her alone is understandable, but I still think he should have trusted Pinkie with assembling the cake from separately packaged tiers.

I maintain that all the ponies in this town are crazy. All my friends especially so.

Author's Note

Speaking of Discord, as far as I can tell that’s really what the canon says he is. The idea of divine Princesses got quietly shuffled under the carpet sometime during Season 2, and together with them, Discord got severely downgraded, together with his “eternal state of unrest.”

On the other hand, don’t you think Celestia’s opening exposition becomes a little weird if you take everything else into account? ;)

Conversation 14: Rainbow Dash

Office of Special Investigations of Their Highnesses Civil Service consisted of Grey Matter and his fifty agents, more properly called clerical personnel, who would instead prefer to call their establishment, alternatively, “Celestia’s Intervention Agency,” or “fifty shades of Grey,” depending on how charitable they were feeling about the whole endeavor this evening, and whether Princess Luna was anywhere in the vicinity.

The Office oversaw a constantly changing, almost boiling alphabet soup of diverse organizations of the clandestine variety. Nopony could quite tell how many, because they were created, disbanded and rearranged every few months, in the belief that, as long as ponies themselves don’t know what they’re doing, their purely hypothetical enemies don’t know either, and that is a mark of unrivaled success in the intelligence business.

This resulted in the agents of those clandestine organizations the OSI was supposed to be managing having no clue what their outfit is called this week or whether it even still exists, nor what their codename is, which, some believed, was a forbidden practical application of the poorly studied chaos magic. The only pony who ever claimed to understand what’s going on was Grey Matter himself, and many of his detractors would openly accuse him of lying, to which he would just twirl his tiny mustache with a hoof and remain silent in an expression of ultimate intellectual bliss.

This was exactly the expression that met Donut Joe that morning at the secret HQ – this time, located a few floors beneath one of Canterlot’s largest department stores. The entrance was disguised as a fitting room, but was actually an elevator, with a quirky magical code lock, that would only open when a pony made several very particular poses before the mirror, accompanied by no less particular facial expressions, and wearing evening dress, entirely unsuitable for silly actions like balancing on the front legs.

For Donut Joe, this had to be a tuxedo, because whoever made the lock was a stickler, and decided that a tie with a collar is not enough evening dress for a stallion. Joe looked very dapper in a tuxedo, of course, but that was hardly an excuse to buy a third one this month alone – one of the mirror poses involved flexing muscles, which, for Joe, inevitably meant he couldn’t return the tuxedo anymore.

“Ah, hello there, double-glaze-Joe,” Grey Matter greeted him. He was a unicorn of small stature, and his immaculately trimmed and lacquered mane and tail, exactly as gray as his coat, not to mention his incredibly neat suit, made Joe look even bigger and messier than he actually was, tuxedo or no. “Please sit down.”

“Before I do, sir,” Joe interrupted him, tugging at the collar of the tuxedo, “Will I be compensated for this tuxedo? It’s kind of eating into my bottom line, and I have my cover business to run.”

“Don’t worry, Joe,” his boss’ boss’ boss’ replied… well, just boss, because only Grey Matter really knew how many of those ponies in between them actually existed. “Sit down. I have a very important mission for you…”

Joe obediently sat down in the comfy chair he was offered, as Grey Matter turned the lights off. A projector lit the room.

“Oh sweet Celestia!” Joe exclaimed, as he finally understood what the messy collection of lines and curves was.

“Indeed, my boy,” Grey Matter agreed, “well said!”

“Can this even be built?” Joe asked, studying the blueprint on the screen. “I mean, not only this design is dangerously unstable, that’s fine. It only needs to stay up for a few hours, and after that, it’s all over. But marzipan, mascarpone and meringue? And what’s that, is it… cherries? Oh my donuts, it is a whole cherry taste amplification ring, isn’t it?”

“Our sources say it will be built,” Grey Matter said, swapping the slide with his magic, “They have been testing the components for months. The results, as you can see, were… I believe, you youngsters would call it a complete knock-out.” The slide depicted three mares – Rose, Lily and Daisy, the Ponyville flower girls – spread out on the floor of Sugarcube Corner with expressions of otherworldly bliss on their faces, completely out of their flowery minds.

“So what’s the plan, sir?” Joe inquired, looking at Grey Matter’s mustache glistening in the darkness. Somehow, the offending piece of black facial hair served as an anchor for the elderly unicorn’s entire face, sucking in attention from all other features. “Surely we can’t allow that!”

“Your mission, should you choose to accept it, Joe,” Grey said, “Is to ensure, that until the National Dessert Competition starts, nopony but Their Highnesses even gets a whiff of this cake.”

Joe jumped up, eyebrows raised. “I beg your pardon?!”

“Her Daylight Highness’ explicit orders,” Grey Matter said, pressing a hoof to Joe’s chest. “I didn’t ask for them to be explained, and neither should you.”

Joe didn’t have much to say to that.

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“You don’t make that kind of accusation without evidence, Pinkie,” Twilight interrupted her. “And I’ve met Grey Matter, he’s not a spymaster, OSI does accounting!”

For what it’s worth, Pinkie is a very vivid storyteller. Even on a good day, I could never beat a tall tale like that. Which I’m okay with, most of the time, cause if I’m awesome enough, there will always be somepony else to tell my story, I can leave that to the experts. But I can’t help but envy her anyway.

“Ah, but that is the perfect cover for a spymaster, my lowly assistant!” Pinkie insisted, and resumed her story.

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The insertion went smoothly. Nopony wondered why did Joe bring his donuts to Ponyville, instead of just making a quick trip for the super-sprinkes. For Joe himself, this was merely a convenient excuse to get on the dessert car with everypony else. He was sure of his donuts, and they didn’t need any stupid super-sprinkles to be perfect, anyway.

The laser grid alarm was in place, the bakers and the hangers-on were asleep in their compartments, and only Pinkie was pacing by the cake, guarding it in the fully justified assumption that somepony will come by to eat it. Eventually. Probably, when Pinkie is asleep. So Pinkie must never fall asleep, oh no. She must maintain vigilance!

It almost looked like Joe’s mission would be a total success without him having to do anything, but as he took another glance through his hastily installed security hole, disguised as an eye of a portrait on the wall – who is that stallion supposed to be anyway? – he was surprised to see Pinkie spread out on the carpet, with a faintly smoking shell of a sleep grenade lying on the floor next to her.

He rushed out of his compartment, and did not even notice the thin piano wire that wrapped itself around his neck. And pulled. Upwards. The only thought that came into Joe’s mind as he was about to lose consciousness was that his cover is now probably irrevocably blown, and he will finally have to bite his donuts goodbye.

A bolt of kinetic magic shot straight from the horn into the darkness resulted in the wire relaxing, and soon, Joe managed to throw whoever it was off his back and into the open. The formless blob of dark cloth resolved into a griffon in a cloak – one that Joe knew well.

“Gustave,” Joe growled, trying to catch his breath. “Or should I say, The Claw. I almost didn’t recognize you. It’s been what, three years? Seaddle, wasn’t it.”

“Just two,” the griffon screeched back, brandishing a sword and flaring his wings out. “You’re getting sloppy in your old age, Joe.”

“I’m thirty seven,” Joe tossed back, accompanying his words with an uppercut that threw Gustave’s beak skywards and got it embedded in the roof of the car, “I’m not old!”

It took Gustave only a moment to wiggle out, but that moment cost him his sword, which went spinning into the darkness of the night through an open window. “Whom are you working for this time, you turncoat?” Joe asked. Punch. Left, then right. The third one, Gustave swept away with his wing.

“Moi?!” Gustave replied in genuine surprise, launching into a series of quick, wide swings of his razor-sharp claws, which earned him the codename. “You change your agencies… more often than you change aprons… and you dare call me a turncoat?… The nerve!… My loyalty to M.U.F.F.I.N. is est indiscutable!… It is the stuff of legends!”

“Like the tooth breezie?” Joe replied, capturing a claw with his magic. In a lucky feat of levitation, he managed to use the momentum of the swing to pin the other claw to the floor with it, burying the talons deep in the wood. While Gustave was struggling to free himself, Joe ran towards the center of the car and grabbed the carpet with his hooves.

He quickly checked through his rainy day collection of one-liner quips. “Bye-bye, birdie,” Joe said, and pulled sharply on the carpet.

Half a minute later, when Gustave was finally restrained, Joe sat on the carpet – rolled up around the unfortunate griffon – and finally let out a breath of relief. “Old age, my donuts…” he mumbled.

Instead of the expected curses and accusations, however, he was met with snickering and chortling of the feline-avian variety. “What’s so funny, birdbrain?”

“A-ha-ha. I think I won’t tell you,” Gustave replied from within the carpet.

Joe was about to kick the griffon-in-a-tube for good measure, but intuition told him that this wouldn’t do any good. Instead, he looked towards the cake, forgotten in the heat of the struggle.

A vaguely mule-shaped shadow loomed over it, sword drawn, and with a glint of light and a whoosh, the cake was split into numerous tasty segments. With but one slash, Joe’s laser-grid alarm system and his life-or-death struggle were rendered pointless, his mission a failure. Before Joe could blink again, the mule ninja was gone like the wind.

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“So, what do you have to say for yourself, Agent double-glaze-Joe?!” Pinkie yelled, butting heads with him. Joe scrunched his face, but didn’t yield, or even reply, which I guess I can understand. This was, after all, a very Pinkie kind of story. Completely unreal and meant to get the audience to roll on the floor laughing, while she’s delivering it with the straightest face possible. Maybe the moment wasn’t quite right for this sort of thing. On any other day, we’d be out for the count before she even mentioned swords and lasers.

“Stop it, Pinkie,” Fluttershy said suddenly, hiding in her hair. “I c… confess.”

Everypony, including the bakers, stared at her, mouths open. Yes, including me. I thought that I ate the cake, what the hay?! It didn’t look like I ate all that much, but it was dark and I had to evade Pinkie, so who’s counting anyway.

“You just made it sound so delicious,” Fluttershy continued, receding deeper into her hair, “so tasty… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” she continued, swallowing tears.

I rushed to hug her under my wing. “Stop it, Fluttershy. I’m sure I ate more of that cake than you!”

“You did?” she whispered, peeking out of the hair with just one eye to look at me. Dammit, Fluttershy, to get so upset over some stupid cake! It’s not THAT big of a deal, is it?

Behind my back, Rarity added, “I must admit, you made it sound so delectable, Pinkie, that I could not possibly resist taking a nibble either.”

“Don’ look at me,” Applejack said, even though nopony was looking at her. “I’ve promised ta get this here cake ta destination, an’ ya wouldn’t catch me dead eatin’ it until it’s there, no way, no how,” she added, staring off into the window with a frown.

“Admit it, you’re just jealous you didn’t get any cake,” I ribbed her.

“Now that’s just mean, Rainbow,” Applejack deadpanned, still not looking at anypony. “Mah vengeance will be served cold an’ sweet.”

Twilight silently reached out with a hoof to pull Pinkie’s silly detective cap off and hid her face in it. Which looked very funny, because she still had that bowler hat on. “Seriously, girls, I feel like I’m back in magic kindergarten! Can’t you all be mature just this once?!”

Fluttershy finally peeked out of her hair far enough to look at Pinkie. “…Can you even forgive me?” she said. I could feel her trembling under my wing.

“Stop it right there, you silly filly!” Pinkie glared sternly at Fluttershy. “Cakes exist to make ponies smile!” and suddenly smiled as brightly as ever. “Was it tasty? Was it sweet? Was it the most fantabulous cake ever? The most important thing! Did it make you smile? Didit, didit?”

Fluttershy just melted. “It was the best cake I’ve ever tasted… Maybe the best I will ever taste…”

“Then it’s all good!” Pinkie announced triumphantly, scanning the dessert car, stopping to stare each baker in the eye. “You heard this, bakers?” she said, dancing circles around the competition, “Joe’s Donutopia is a spectacular city of donutty delight, topped temptingly in sprinklicious sprinkles, sure to please even the most discerning connoisseur.” Whiff of the donuts. Eh, I’m not much of a fan of those, it’s too easy to eat too many, I’ve got to keep in shape. “Gustave’s eclairs are incredibly edible, glistening in their glaziness, a gourmand’s dessert if I ever saw one.” Damn, she’s working up my appetite again. “Mulia Mild’s Mousse Moose is audacious in its mouth-watering chocolatey marvellousness, an innovative temptation of cocoa!” She actually licked the thing. “Each one of them is deserving of the first place. And yet, when faced with opposition and risk of discovery, which one everypony chose to take a bite from, hm-m-m? M-m-m-m-m…”

And suddenly, the car went dark, and whooshing noises filled the air.

When the train left the tunnel and the darkness faded, Joe’s Donutopia and Gustave’s eclairs were missing at least half the total weight, and about the only intact part of the chocolate moose was the head. The cake was missing another third, and the bakers were just standing there, looking around guiltily and licking their lips. And beak.

I giggled. I think I know exactly what happened, this time.

Twilight’s yell was loud enough to rival Princess Luna’s Royal Canterlot Voice.

“Oh COME ON!”

Author's Note

Yes, this chapter was meant to confuse you a bit. Sorry about that… …no, not really, if the name “Rainbow Dash” in the title coupled with the word choices of the very first paragraph wasn’t a sign that something is going on, I humbly suggest you deserved to be confused. :)

Alas, I’m not very good at action scenes, particularly in third person.

Joe turned out to be kind of like Brock Samson in this segment, which I didn’t really expect.

M.U.F.F.I.N. stands for Malicious Union of Fiends For Instigating Nefariousness, not that anyone but Pinkie knows that. No, I’m pretty sure Derpy doesn’t either.

Blame Pinkie, I think she found my secret stash of mind altering chemicals. If you meet her, tell her to give some back, because I’m pretty sure I never actually owned such a stash.

P.S. …Why did Joe bring his donuts to Ponyville, instead of just making a trip for the super-sprinkles, anyway?

Conversation 15: Twilight Sparkle

“In short,” I concluded the verbal portion of my report, “while their interests are… kind of alien, they are just as academic as their attitude. I’ve never even had a question Mary refused to answer. But I expect you already knew most of that, Princess.”

The monstrosity that was assembled from the ruined cake of the Cakes, Joe’s donuts, Fluttershy’s cookies, mousse moose and assorted alliterated eclairs got first place, to the satisfaction of all the guilty parties, despite being so eclectic, that it could hardly be called a singular dessert. Why did Fluttershy even take cookies with her, let alone a whole week’s supply, I have no idea, but they sure came in useful.

Then, soon after the first samples were distributed, it animated. And attempted to eat the attendees, so Pinkie had to consume most of it in self-defense. Turned out, one of the spices Fluttershy used in those cookies was a gift from Zecora, a rare Everfree plant. I never even knew an alchemical equivalent of a come-to-life spell existed, but looks like we discovered one purely by accident!

In all the commotion, I didn’t even get to taste the thing. I guess that’ll teach me to be the most rule-abiding pony on the train… Pinkie left none for Applejack either, and AJ made no attempt to conceal she felt slightly miffed about that, but promises of a special cake for the Apples once Pinkie gets back to Ponyville were enough to placate her. I was just glad the whole mess was over before a real scandal could break out, so I decided not to start one myself. Most importantly, after the National Dessert Competition concluded, I actually managed to get the Princess all to myself for some time, which felt much better than a cake.

We met in the sculpture garden, next to the entrance to the hedge maze, and I spent almost an hour talking about everything I learned. I only noticed that we’ve been meandering through the maze by the time I was mostly done, and had to deliberately squish my hooves into the ground to stop.

When will I ever stop getting so nervous before her? Will I ever?

“Expected, rather than knew,” Celestia smiled at me. “It’s nice to have an independent confirmation. When ponies imagine first contact with an alien species, they think of trade and war. Governments are simple beasts, they worry about little else, so it’s justified, but only if there’s another government on the other end. Otherwise, we worry that an alien species would judge us for not living up to our own ideals – remember that movie, ‘The Day The Earth Stood Still?’ We don’t really expect having to make sense of each other from scratch, we tend to imagine a pony in a rubber mask. Even having a language in common is actually skipping ahead a great deal. But isn’t learning about each other the really interesting part?”

“I’m… very happy to be entrusted with something like that, Princess, but I’m not really sure I’m qualified,” I admitted grudgingly.

Celestia shook her head, “No, Twilight. This is not a test. I don’t know the right answer. I don’t even have any means to judge success or failure, you’re completely on your own. But this is a chance to find out how a really alien species sees friendship. To know whether harmony really is as universal as we believe. There is hardly any pony in Equestria more qualified to study this than you are.”

I sighed. “Considering that I am now unclear on how is friendship even real, I need more help than I expected.”

“That is my mistake, Twilight, rather than any shortcoming of yours,” Celestia frowned into nowhere in particular. “You blazed through magic theory and hard sciences so fast, that I worried of nothing but making sure you never ran out of new things to learn. I’ll write up a list of books that should give you a wider view of ontology first chance I get. You’re not the first pony to ask this question, and generations of philosophers have muddled the issue beyond all recognition.”

“…I understand it isn’t obvious. But shouldn’t it be? We literally base the entirety of our knowledge on knowing what is real,” I asked.

Celestia smiled at me. “If ponies didn’t believe that real things are obviously real, nothing would ever get done. At least half of all philosophy is about trying to figure out what the words everypony thinks they already understand really mean. The other half is mostly about what to do afterwards, as it upsets the sand castles.”

“Is that all our science and magic really is?” I inquired. “A sand castle on a foundation of… well, nothing?”

“A sand castle on the foundation of itself,” Celestia punctuated with a raised hoof. “Everything connects to something else. At least some of these things will turn out to be real, no matter which way you look at them. Tell me, what is the common, colloquial definition of harmony?”

“Concord and cooperation between ponies,” I recited automatically.

“So where does it exist?” Celestia pulled.

“Between ponies, presumably…” I said. “Oh!”

There is nothing between ponies. Harmony can’t exist, because there is no medium for it to exist, and yet it is unquestionable that it does. It’s just as vague, but just as real as friendship, they are, after all, close cousins.

“Ponies are real,” I declared, excited. “Friendship and harmony exist between ponies and through ponies, and are therefore exactly as real as ponies are.” I guess I shouldn’t feel too proud of figuring something like that if I needed such a big hint to do it, from the Princess, no less, but I still felt more than a bit satisfied at finally understanding it.

“Not all philosophers will agree with you,” Celestia pointed out, “But I generally don’t think very highly of the words of those that won’t. If my little ponies aren’t real, I’m not sure what am I doing here, and I don’t think something that isn’t real could keep surprising me consistently for so long.”

Unfortunately that’s far from the end of it. “I have no doubt I am real…” I said, “and I do not doubt that you are just as real. But with the story theory the humans propose, I am having trouble demonstrating the world itself is real… It’s like it can be less real than friendship, which is kind of worrying.”

“It’s possible for multiple seemingly contradictory theories to coexist,” Celestia commented. “What brought this on, anyway?”

“It’s a long story. A mystery, actually…” I started.

It took me a while to describe the sandwich problem and my hypothesis.

When I was done, Celestia told me, “It’s certainly an interesting problem, and a promising hypothesis. I can, of course, confirm, that neither me, nor Luna, nor even Star Swirl ever cast such a spell, and few, if any, great wizards could approach his level since. Whatever it is, the idea that there is a natural cause and the mechanism of effect is magical is sound. I don’t think it is a pressing issue, so don’t let it consume your life. Equestria has lived for ages with it, and won’t be worse off if you don’t solve it today. But it could well become better if you do it in the future, and there’s no telling what else you might learn along the way. I would love to hear of anything you discover, in any case.”

“I would need to spend months in the Canterlot Archives before I can come up with any leads,” I sighed. “And everypony needs to go back to Ponyville today…”

“That, I can help you with,” Celestia smiled. “There’s a better library much closer to home.”

My ears perked up. “There is?!”

“It is no accident that Nightmare Moon first appeared in Ponyville, of course. Do you remember the castle in Everfree Forest? Back in the day, it was the castle that I shared with Luna, that’s why it’s called the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters, after all,” she said. “I have abandoned it and established the seat of government in Canterlot, leaving almost everything as it was, it’s still connected to far too many unpleasant memories. But the castle library should still be there. The enchantments should have preserved the books well, no matter what state the rest of the castle is in.”

“But that would make it one of the oldest surviving libraries in Equestria!” I exclaimed, bouncing. No book newer than a thousand years! Histories earlier than recorded history! Even if I consider that what passed for historical science in these times can hardly be called either, that’s as close to primary sources as it gets!

“Which is why it is a very appropriate place to start your research,” Celestia smiled. “But don’t go there alone. It’s full of self-rearming magic powered traps and secret passages. Luna absolutely loves these things. And it is, after all, a crumbling ruin in the middle of a dangerous forest. Bring some friends.”

“Of course I will,” I grinned back. “It’s an adventure!”

“More of a quest,” Celestia smiled in encouragement. “But yes, it is.”

I was about to say something else, but far, far in the distance, the clock on one of the castle towers chimed the hour. “Oh my, look at the time,” Celestia said, as she looked around. We were somewhere really deep in the maze. “Are we lost?”

“Maybe,” I said, poking the hedge. “Don’t let me keep you, Princess, I’ll find my way out. I’ve been here before.”

Celestia laughed, unfurling her huge wings and nuzzling my cheek. “It was actually replanted completely, after what Discord did to it. But I’m sure a simple maze won’t hold you, Twilight. I’ll be waiting for your letters.”

With a flap of her wings, she rose into the air, and moments later disappeared out of sight, the rare wingbeats slowly receding into the distance. Sometimes, I wonder, what would it be like to have wings of my own… Mental note: Schedule a day to cast the wing enchantment spell on myself, enlist Rainbow for flight safety and tutoring. Maybe sometime next month.

Well, if all else fails, I’m pretty sure I could teleport out. I’d rather not teleport blind, but I’m confident the maze is not warded.

As I was standing there and deciding which way to go, suddenly, I heard the distinct sound of human boots on the ground. There’s only one human who is likely to be here at this time… “I believe you wanted to ask me something, Twilight,” Rika said loudly behind my back.

“It is customary to say hello when meeting somepony,” I tried to point out politely as I turned around.

“It is customary to say goodbye when leaving,” Rika grinned at me, “Which I didn’t, as you should recall, so did I actually leave?”

Both of them, beyond simply being alien, also seem to be just a little unhinged. I’m not sure just how normal they are by human standards, but they’re different even in that. While Mary likes being unobtrusive and hidden, Rika is all about getting in your face and under your coat, with that shiny red mane of hers and that presence, like she’s out to fill all available space…

I tried a polite smile. “Did you?”

“Maybe,” Rika replied with a playful wink. “But that’s not the question you wanted to ask, is it?”

I took a breath. No sense beating around the hedge, I guess. “Please tell me, what is a ‘magical girl?’”

“It’s a story pattern,” Rika started. Somehow, I’m sure she knew I was going to ask this. Mary must have told her, why would she even chase me to Canterlot otherwise… “A structure of events, that can be distinguished from other such structures, which centers on a character type called ‘magical girl.’ While none are exactly the same, of course, they can be broadly classified into four types, 0 to III.”

“Why does the numbering start with zero?” I wondered.

“Because Type 0 magical girls lack one important property that others have – transformation magic as a central feature,” Rika explained. “A Type 0 magical girl is an alien princess as an exchange student. She comes from a magical realm to a regular human world, to stay a while and make new friends. To her, magic is an everyday thing. Not so much to her regular-human friends.”

“Sounds very much like some humans I know, but in reverse…” I commented.

“Well, there was a time when I thought I was an alien princess, but that’s a story for another day…” Rika grinned widely, showing off teeth. “Type I is the first proper magical girl. A normal human that acquires a magical device capable of temporarily transforming her, usually into an adult version of herself. Her story is about repeatedly bypassing an initiation ritual.”

“…Initiation? Like, into a secret society?…” I wondered. I really don’t remember the word being used for much except the rituals that were in vogue with unicorn conclaves in the First Celestial Era.

“M-mm… Most human cultures have a ceremony that sharply marks the transition from child to adult. They tone it down over time, but it never completely disappears,” Rika elaborated. “It’s a bit similar to getting a cutie mark. If you had the concept of a Type I magical girl, her transformation magic would be about trying cutie marks on, like dresses, testing what sticks. There are lots of variations, but that’s the basic idea.”

“The Cutie Mark Crusaders would love magic amulets like that…” I commented.

Rika snickered. “Maybe I should get them some.”

“Are you serious?!” I exclaimed. “They get into more than enough trouble already!”

“You’re no fun,” Rika replied with a fake-looking scowl.

Pf-f-ft. “How are these types connected, anyway?” I asked. “There doesn’t seem to be anything common to them except the words ‘magical girl,’ but that’s obviously not it.”

“Well, there are two more types,” Rika continued. “A Type II magical girl also transforms – into a version of herself equipped to fight alien evil forces, which are magical, and can only be fought by magic. Instead of taking adulthood for a spin, a Type II magical girl takes the hero’s mantle for a spin. Adulthood is sometimes part of that, but usually not.”

“I think I can see it now,” I said. It only clicked when she explained three of them, but I’m pretty sure of it. “They are all different expressions of youthful hope, aren’t they? Different takes on the same idea, what a filly might dream to be. Like friendship is magic, they treat hope as a kind of magic, too.”

Rika smirked at me. “Isn’t it?” …Was this a rhetorical question or not?

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. I really don’t, but the idea clearly has merit. I’m not even sure if the Elements of Harmony are just unlocked by friendship, or actually powered by it, either theory can be supported by the evidence I have. Who knows what kind of effects you can produce by powering a magical device with hope… “There are a lot of things I don’t know. I didn’t know that friendship was magic until last summer, after all. It was such a wonderful surprise…”

Dead end. I’m not even sure why were we walking, but suddenly, there we were, in a small clearing at the end of a winding path, face to face with a statue of a teenage pony in ornate, but badly damaged armor, holding a heart in her teeth. Her body was frozen in a forceful walk, mane and tail swept back by a harsh wind. This was unexpected enough to make me jump.

I knew this statue. Time has not been kind to it, it had a large crack going down the chest, and the heart itself was barely recognizable as such, polished by the touch of generations of ponies. The fire in the mare’s eyes still made it a striking work of art. I also knew it was previously located outside the maze. Looks like the replanted hedge has no patterns in common with the old maze at all.

“…What’s this one supposed to represent?” Rika asked, walking up to the statue and running her fingers across the marble.

“Nopony seems to know. It’s ancient. Some think it’s ‘love,’ based on that heart,” I replied. “Legend says, it’s one of the heroes of the Settlement, Sunlit Seen the earth pony. Pretty much nothing survived except the name, and that might have been invented in a later era to explain the statue.”

“Love?! Shame,” Rika said. “I didn’t think you had any, but that is your oldest magical girl. It’s ‘hope,’ of course,” she added with certainty.

Earth pony, magical girl? “How do you figure?” I asked. There’s a lot earth pony magic can do, but transformations are not on the list.

Rika looked at me with a twisted smile and pointed a finger at the crack in the statue’s chest. “That’s how it’s supposed to look. If you find the right legend, I’m sure it will say, that in a moment of great despair, she tore her own heart out, and it burned, lighting the way for others as she walked forward. It’s a very Type II thing to do.”

So she thinks it isn’t just a symbol, but a literal heart? Horsefeathers… “Why are you so sure?” I wondered. “Do things like this happen often in human worlds?” It’s beautiful and romantic, but if you ask me, it’s also pretty horrible, not to mention tragic. Bad things shouldn’t happen to good ponies. Good ponies shouldn’t have to do bad things to themselves, either!

“Some ideas are universal,” Rika replied, deftly hopping onto the pedestal and dusting the statue’s mane off with her hand. Like trying to pet a real pony… “A very lucky Type II magical girl gets to grow up and have a family. For most, that’s where it ends. A lucky one dies… like that. Some unlucky ones succumb to despair and become their own special kind of monster. The rare really unlucky ones win forever and go on to become Type III.”

“‘Win forever?’ Wouldn’t that mean saving the world for good?” I asked. “That’s… really, that has to be a contradiction, how is that unlucky?”

“If the story of a Type II magical girl runs for long enough, the threats she comes up against also grow, all the way to cosmic levels,” Rika said, jumping back down, and slowly walking over to me. “World-devouring monsters, the ultimate cause of all the world’s corruption. To battle such a threat and win, to save the world forever, you have to become something just as monstrous. But a magical girl remains an expression of purity and hope, even then,” she added, crouching before me to look into my eyes. “A monstrous expression of purity and hope is… not a happy thing.”

I never noticed it before, but now I’m certain I can’t see my reflection in those eyes of hers. Was she talking about herself? Is she even breathing? I’m… not sure. She doesn’t even smell like a living thing. I thought it was just an unusual perfume, but Mary uses a simple floral scent and sure enough, there are tones of sweat and other bodily scents behind it, almost like a pony. Rika smells of …petroleum, and nothing else.

Should I ask her about it? But how is she going to react to something like that? How does one ask, “are you even alive?!”

Was this what Mary meant by “overwhelming force?…”

“Word of advice, Twilight,” Rika suddenly interrupted my thoughts with a blank expression on her face, stretching up and making a step back. Whew… “If you’re afraid to ask a question because it might be offensive, don’t ask the one you think you know the answer to. Ask one that counts, instead.”

One that counts… “Tell me, then…” I said, after spending more than a few seconds in silence. A promise made to Rika, Mary said… “Why have you brought Mary here? Why not some human world?”

“I guess this one counts,” Rika grinned, starting a slow walk in the direction we came from. “She picked the actual book at random, but I did pick the tree for a reason…”

I had no choice but to trail after her. “So what was the reason?”

“It’s a rather long story,” Rika said thoughtfully. “…There’s a famous human fairytale, ‘Tale of the Bamboo Cutter.’ A girl, found by an old childless couple in mysterious circumstances, grows into a woman, who soon becomes famous for her beauty and wit, and is courted by numerous noble suitors. She offers them impossible challenges, and all of them fail… Except one, the emperor of the country.”

Sounds pretty normal so far. Our old folklore is full of tales like that, I remember five variations on the motive of impossible challenges alone.

“And while there is love between them, she rejects him as well,” Rika continued. “Eventually, she reveals that she did so because she is the princess of the Moon Kingdom.”

“How could that cause a problem?!” I exclaimed. “I can imagine a fairytale princess objecting to marrying lesser nobility, fairytales are like that. But an emperor should be perfect!”

“Not a ruling princess, they had a king,” Rika said, throwing a glance down at me. “So essentially she was even more powerless than the regular subjects. She was temporarily exiled for punishment, and one day, soon, would be forced to return, never to come down to Earth again.”

“Sounds sad…” I commented. “But it ends well, doesn’t it? All fairytales have good endings!”

“Nope,” Rika shook her head, “it gets worse. The Emperor sends his guards to prevent this, but they are overpowered by the magic of the Moon Kingdom. The princess is very sad to part with the Emperor and her many friends, and is permitted to leave him a few things to remember her by… One of these is a letter. The other one is a bottle of the elixir of immortality, enough for one human. And then…” Rika stopped and stared at me, carefully studying my reaction. “The grief-stricken Emperor finds the tallest mountain, closest to the heavens, and burns both of these things there. Because he cannot bear the thought of living without his princess for eternity. The. End!”

“I’m not even sure this counts as a fairytale,” I said, looking back at her. She never seems to show she’s actually angry at something, but telling this made her look… Annoyed? “I don’t think any of our fairytales have a tragic ending like that. Not ones told to foals, at least. Even the very scary ones don’t.”

“You can probably understand why I hated it so much, then, when I found the actual book. The Library book,” Rika said. “But, I had no idea what to do with it. Destroying the Moon Kingdom would be easy, but wouldn’t do much good. I asked Mary for a solution as a challenge. I wanted her to own up to the ideal she declared.”

Can she really destroy a whole kingdom? If one can destroy a world-devouring monster, that would be easy… “…And?”

“…And she did,” Rika suddenly grinned, like a filly who just discovered a lost candy. “It took her longer to explain than to come up with it. Like, poof, there it is. I just had to force-feed the Emperor his elixir and give him a paragraph of carefully worded hints. It was so obvious, so cruel, and yet so beautiful…”

“What sort of hints?” I asked. And hints to do… what exactly?

“A very concise description of how to study gravity and reactive motion. You don’t really need magic to go to the moon. Just persistence in science, and a lot of time and money,” Rika explained, her voice almost sparkling with excitement, like she’s about to burst into a heartsong. I actually wondered why she didn’t, it certainly seemed important enough for her to tell me all that. “It took him seven hundred years, but he did it. Right there, on the spot, one story turned into an entire, separate tree, and Mary didn’t even notice what she had done, she was describing possibilities to me, and new books kept appearing. In some branches, he had a happy reunion and a wedding, in others, a war. Sometimes, both. But none had such despair as the one Mary started with.”

She suddenly stopped walking and stared at me. “I don’t know what her gift truly is. I don’t think she understands what she really does… But it’s very important to me.”

“…That’s… a fascinating piece of knowledge,” I said, very carefully picking out words. “At least, I think I understand you two better, now.” I can also see that this really is a friendship problem… Let’s deal with my problem first, though. “But it still didn’t answer my question. Why Equestria, of all places? …Why me? The very first door she knocked on was mine.”

“I don’t really believe in coincidence, you see,” Rika said very seriously. “The name of the moon princess in the story I just told you about was ‘Kaguya-hime.’ In my native language, this name can be written in a number of ways, and depending on how you do it, the meaning will change. And my favorite variant means… ‘Princess Twilight Sparkle.’”

I deeply regretted Pinkie was not in the maze with us. If she were, she’d surely offer me a drink, just to make sure that I could spray it into somepony’s face.

A mug of hard cider would be perfect right about now.

Author's Note

It’s a very dialogue-heavy chapter, which originally was two. Since Twilight was the narrator for both, I eventually decided to combine them. They might have suffered a bit for it, I’m afraid.

Prior to about 1900, given names of women in Japanese were exclusively written in kana,(1) rather than kanji,(2) so the connection is not immediate – the fairytale dates back to X century, and canonically, Kaguya-hime is always written as “かぐや姫.” But were one to write “Kaguya-hime” with kanji, one of your more obvious options is “輝夜姫” – which means exactly what Rika said it does.(3)

(1) The reason why it was done this way is quite idiosyncratic.
(2) For those who don’t know, Japanese has a rather complicated writing system, which combines logographic characters, which have individual meanings and several ways of reading them, and two rather different variations of a syllabary. Some words mandate the use of all three. Changes in meaning depending on spelling make it one of the punniest languages on Earth in the right hands. Look it up, it’s fun.
(3) I neither speak nor write Japanese myself, but discovering this actually was the reason Rika and Mary went to Equestria, and not somewhere else. The incident with “Taketori Monogatari” is actually one of the elements of their backstory that existed in writing before I started “Aporia.” A bit later, I will probably even make it a bonus chapter…

Conversation 16: Applejack

Twilight’s happy squeal could be heard for miles. She galloped straight towards the pile of dusty books in the middle of the library floor – why are they even piled up like that, was there an earthquake or something? – and buried herself in it like a mole without so much as a hello or thank you.

“Well, at least somepony’s not having a bad day,” I said.

Yesterday, when we were back, I had to apologize to the Cakes and explain that their victory at that National Dessert thing had to be shared with a whopping three other bakers, for no reason other than my friends being gluttons. Twilight smoothed it over a bit, chewing them out for not trusting Pinkie to assemble the cake in place, and Pinkie promised to work several double shifts, so that the Cakes could have a day off to celebrate, so it was settled, but it didn’t sit particularly well with me. Didn’t sound like a good omen for the week to come.

Then, today’s morning started with Twilight rounding everypony up for an expedition to the ruined castle where we fought Nightmare Moon. She just couldn’t wait until the weekend. I did not have anything that important to do, so I figured, what the hay, might as well. Rainbow agreed immediately, even though the weather patrol had a night shower to prepare. Pinkie was busy, of course, – she still had to make that cake she promised me, too – so she just told us “It’s dangerous to go alone, take this!” and gave Rainbow a box of something. I swear, that girl is too random by far.

Rarity was doing frou-frou stuff with Mary, so she excused herself too, all polite like, but in that voice she uses when she won’t take no for an answer. She’s been itching to get her hooves on Mary ever since the humans showed up, so we decided to leave them to it. Fluttershy was just off somewhere, with no explanation, but none of us expected she’d look forward to this sort of trip, so we figured we’d have to do without her.

Rainbow kept goading me the entire time while we were wading through the forest – suspiciously quiet today – and then triggered every darn trap she came across, she just had to turn that into a contest of who can find the most. Many impolite words addressed in the direction of Princess Luna were said by all, including even a few by Twilight. Really, a rotating wall as heavy as a house is too much for a prank, you can hurt somepony that way. And that organ is just creepy.

By the time we finally found the library, all three of us had accumulated enough bruises and scrapes to start a collection, and when it turned out we’ve been walking in circles and took the longest possible path to reach it, I was mighty annoyed. Only Twilight’s unashamed squealing actually broke me out of it.

“That was fun and all,” Rainbow Dash said, “but what exactly are we looking for?”

You have a strange idea of fun, Rainbow, even watching you thrash about under a fallen tapestry wasn’t all that fun.

“History of magic, mostly,” Twilight said, popping out from the pile of books and spreading them out around herself like a fan. She’s getting ridiculously good at that. “Have you ever wondered why we eat sandwiches, Rainbow?”

“Cause they’re tasty, duh?” Rainbow Dash quipped, hovering over Twilight’s whirlwind of books.

“Well, if I’m right, that’s not why we eat them, and the actual reason is very complicated. And possibly dangerous.” Twilight glanced up and adjusted her cloud of books to clear a path for Rainbow. “But to confirm or deny that, I need to find books mentioning natural magical objects found over a thousand years ago. More modern sources can be dismissed, because then, everypony would know about them, I’m betting on something forgotten.”

“What can be dangerous about a sandwich?” I wondered. I also wondered if Twilight has finally gone off her rocker because Princess Celestia gave her another stupid test that no sane pony would ever complete. She doesn’t look like it, and the last time she broke was too recently for me to forget just what it looks like, but what do I know.

“About a sandwich?” Twilight asked, spreading the wall of books apart to look at me, stacking a few off onto a shelf and pulling ten more in. “Nothing. Nothing special, at least. Maybe a choking hazard. But lots of things can be dangerous about a spell effect that causes everypony in the entire Equestria to think as if they have fingers.”

“Well, I sure don’t think like I have fingers,” I said, waving a hoof at her. “See?”

“Sorry, Applejack,” Twilight sighed. “It’s more complicated than that, and it’s been eating me all the way since before Canterlot. I’ll explain when I have something more specific than just a blank hypothesis.”

I decided that pushing her to explain it right now was probably not very wise. It would just mean we’d be stuck in the castle even longer, while I’d rather be home before sunset.

Suddenly, a shrill sound of laughter came from somewhere. “O-o-o-o-o-o-ho-ho-ho-ho!” Feminine, piercing, and carefully tuned to be annoying as a tick. Who in tarnation even laughs like that? Whoever that was, they were nowhere to be seen and I couldn’t even place where it was coming from. Rainbow Dash landed next to me and began scanning the walls and shelves for the source of the laughter with a worried expression, but Twilight just ignored it, surrounded by her cloud of slowly spinning ancient books.

“Ahem!” the invisible joker insisted. “O-o-o-o-o-o-ho-ho-ho-ho.”

“Quit that and come out!” Rainbow demanded.

“…Oh why do I even bother,” the somewhat familiar voice mumbled. “Twilight Sparkle!” she yelled.

“Huh?” Twilight said, making an opening in her cloud of books and peeking out of it.

“That’s not how you’re supposed to react!” the voice said. Definitely a familiar voice, but I can’t seem to place it. “Let’s try that again from the beginning. O-o-o-o-o-o-ho-ho-ho-ho!”

“Wha?!…” was the only thing Twilight could actually say, but all the books suddenly fell down onto the floor one by one.

“That’s more like it, thank you,” the owner of the voice finally relented, and a cloud of smoke suddenly filled the air. When it dispersed a few seconds later, a baby blue pony in a pointy hat and cape was posing rampant in the middle of the library, all triumphant like, with a manure-eating grin wider than the one you get if you tell Pinkie you have a party job for her. “Fillies and gentlecolts, say hello to the GREAT AND POWERFUL …TRIXIE!”

Next to me, Rainbow Dash did a facehoof. I suppose if I were to express our collective feelings, I would say “Oh bother!” but I was busy facehoofing myself.

Twilight coughed. She was right in the thick of the cloud when it went off. “Was that really necessary?…”

“Yes!” Trixie insisted, landing on all four hooves and showily walking towards Twilight. “The Great and Powerful Trixie has come to challenge you, Twilight Sparkle, there’s protocol for these things!”

“…Challenge me?!” Twilight jumped. “What did I ever do to you, Trixie?”

Trixie flashed a timberwolf smile at her. “Shall the Great and Powerful Trixie make a list?”

“Lists are a perfectly sensible method of formulating a friendship problem!” Twilight insisted.

“This is not a friendship problem!” Trixie threw back. “This is a rivalry problem!”

“I never even knew we had a rivalry, Trixie,” Twilight said, making a small step back. Then another one, cause Trixie wasn’t stopping.

“That’s the problem, we hadn’t!” Trixie shouted. “But Princess Luna agrees that competition is good for our development, so now we do, and there’s nothing you can do about that this time, Twilight Sparkle!”

Oh my, we’re namedropping now. How’d that braggart ever manage to impress Princess Luna, of all ponies?

Twilight shriveled slightly under Trixie’s heavy gaze, and her hind hooves bumped into the wall. “P… Princess Luna?!”

“Yes, Twilight Sparkle, you’re not the only one who is a personal student of a princess!” Trixie cackled and turned away, walking briskly to the other end of the room. “And the Great and Powerful Trixie has come to challenge you for the right to access this library… Right here, and right now!” She glared at me and Rainbow Dash, adding, “Look, girls, move aside, this is not about you. I’ve never hurt my audience and I’m not about to start now.”

“Now just wait a minute here…” I said, making a step forward. Never hurt my audience, my rump. So that time she showed up in town doesn’t count, now? Just who does she think she is?!

“No, don’t, Applejack,” Twilight said. “I can take her.”

“Admirable!” Trixie exclaimed. “Let’s see if you can take THIS, Twilight Sparkle! You might have vanquished an Ursa Minor, but surely you can’t create one! A perfectly crafted Ursa under Trixie’s control!”

I never expected this braggart could actually back anything up, but here she did, right as rain. I didn’t see the glow of her magic, because of her silly hat, but I didn’t need to. There’s no other way an Ursa can float up through the floor, all ghost-like. It was much smaller and actually a bit cuter than the Ursa Minor I remembered. But once claws get bigger than my head, it kinda makes no difference.

The Ursa snarled at us, and let out a roar that near blew my hat off.

“But that’s not a… oh, forget it,” Twilight sighed. “Girls… Go find some seats, this will take a few minutes,” she said under her breath, her horn lighting up. In moments, she was all covered in that pink shield of hers, the one she used to protect the cake yesterday. Neat stuff.

I got caught up watching it and almost didn’t notice Rainbow waving to me from a reading table. When I noticed, I darted towards her, and just in time, too. Trixie’s Ursa went on the offensive, almost touching the hairs of my tail as it passed me.

It slammed a claw across Twilight’s shield ball with a loud clanging sound, kinda like a bell. Nothing much happened, except Twilight sliding a few steps to the left and smirking at Trixie from inside. “Maybe when you get this out of your system, you’ll be ready to discuss your problem like a sensible adult?” she asked.

“Certainly!” Trixie agreed enthusiastically. Clang. “Trixie always believed, that negotiations are best conducted from a position of superiority!” Clang. Clang. “You see, Trixie wanted to be the designated rival since she first met you. This is the only role fitting for one so Great and Powerful. It would not do for Trixie to be the heroine, all that character development, you understand.” Clang. Clang. Crack.

A thin crack appeared in Twilight’s shield, and Twilight hastily magicked it back up, her horn glowing brighter. A strand of hair popped out of her mane. “Not really,” she replied, her voice slightly unsteady.

The Ursa snarled and tried to bite the shield, but it didn’t quite fit into that giant pie-hole, so it only resulted in a screeching sound that made me wince. “…And Trixie would be your rival, if it weren’t for those meddling kids…”

“Popcorn?” Rainbow said, stretching a hoof with a box in my direction.

Yep, it’s popcorn.

I wanted to tell her off, because it felt like the most ridiculous thing she ever pulled. But one look into her eyes told me, that if Rainbow believed that Twilight is in any kind of real danger even for a moment, Trixie would be at the bottom of that ravine outside with a broken horn by now, or at least, locked up in that floor trap down the corridor, even if I had any objections. Not that I would. Oh well. I suppose Dash is right about that much, Twilight can handle it. Let the magic girls sort it out between themselves.

“Where’d you even get that?” I asked, jumping up onto a chair next to Rainbow and scooping up a hoofful.

“Pinkie. I knew it would come in tasty later.” Rainbow Dash replied tersely, and then jumped, sending up a small shower of popcorn. “GO TWILIGHT! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR! SHOW THAT STUCK-UP LOSER!”

Twilight, encouraged by the cheer, put more power into her shield, and it grew bigger just as the Ursa finally managed to lock its jaws around the ball. Oops.

The transparent bear let out a panicked wail as it realized it got caught and tried to lift its head – shield, Twilight and all. It did work, but didn’t help. “Give it up, Trixie, I always got better marks in Force Conjuration than… ow,” Twilight said, as the bear tried to rattle the ball with Twilight inside, and she banged her horn on the shield surface. “Can’t we just be friends?!”

“This is not a friendship problem, Twilight Sparkle!” Trixie exclaimed, and her Ursa slammed its head into the bookshelves, Twilight bouncing inside. Books scattered in all directions from the strike. “You missed your cue, you should have said that back when Trixie first came to Ponyville! Now there’s no way we can be friends, unless you rescue Trixie from the jaws of death at great personal cost! It’s in the rules! And Trixie is never going to give you the chance, she’s not that kind of rival!”

“It is a friendship problem!…” Clang. “aw… And there is no such thing…” Bump. “Aw! …as an unsolvable…” Bump. Clang. “ow! …friendship problem…” Twilight replied from within her ball as Ursa was doing its damnedest to get it out. “Stop it!”

“O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ho-ho-ho!”

“GO TWILIGHT, GO!”

Finally, Twilight decided she’s had enough. She made a tiny hole in the shield somewhere right in the middle of the bear’s throat and stuck her horn in. A blast of magic went right through the entire body of the transparent Ursa and scorched the floor, lighting the bear up purple for a moment, and getting a wail of pain out of the thing. Glancing in Trixie’s direction, I noticed that just for a smidgen of a second, the triumphant smile left her face.

I saw another blast, and heard another howl of pain from the magical beast, but I was staring at Trixie, and sure enough, even though she didn’t fail to keep the smile up this time, I noticed a bead of sweat rolling down the side of her head. Suddenly, a hoof slammed into my side. “Come on, you’re missing the best part!” Rainbow hissed at me.

Somewhere beneath my chair, I felt the telltale rumble of moving walls and realized that tilting the chair triggered yet another trap. Damn you, Rainbow, not now! Hastily, I leaned back the other way, hard, and in a corner of my eye, saw a bookshelf slam back into place behind me as the trap reversed directions. Whew.

I was missing the best part, though. With the third blast of magic, the ghostly bear let out a final scream and faded into nothing, letting the ball with Twilight in it finally fall onto the floor. Twilight magicked away the shield and stood on all four hooves among a pile of crushed, torn and slightly crumpled books, mane hairs sticking out in all directions. Trixie’s grin twisted like a pretzel, her lips trembling.

Twilight growled. “You.” Step. A heavy step towards Trixie, her mane progressing from just frazzled to something like a cross between a porcupine and a seaweed. “Destroyed.” Step. “Books.”

I shivered. I sure didn’t destroy any books, and that scared me anyway.

“O-o-ho-ho?” Trixie’s vain attempt at laughing it off didn’t work very well.

Twilight didn’t even bother to continue, she just tossed a blazing bolt of magic at Trixie. But in the last moment, Trixie made a jump to the left… no, to the right… no, dammit, both! The two copies of Trixie symmetrically stared at the scorch mark where the original stood.

“Trixie isn’t sure escalation is appropriate at this juncture,” both chorused.

Twilight didn’t respond, she just sent two bolts at either copy, one after another. One of the copies caught the blast in the face and crumbled into a small pile of glitter. The other one split into two again. “Okay, that’s enough of that, I suppose,” one of the resulting two Trixies commented, and immediately exploded with a cloud of smoke, sending Twilight into a coughing fit.

“Come back…” Twilight choked out, “COME BACK HERE YOU COWARD!”

“This point goes to you, Twilight Sparkle!” came Trixie’s voice out of nowhere. “But the Great and Powerful Trixie shall return in the next installment!!”

I guess that clearly marks the end of this one show.

“Twilight, best unicorn ever!” Rainbow exclaimed, rushing in to hug Twilight, who just stood there, frowning and breathing heavily. “I knew you’d win, of course.”

“She destroyed books, Rainbow,” Twilight whined. “Thousand year old books!”

“You won pretty darn smooth, though,” I commented hopping off the chair. “If unicorn duels are always like that, you all should sell tickets, I’d bring the whole family to watch. What was that about, anyway?”

“No idea,” Twilight muttered. “She tried something like that back when she was in my class in school. I thought she was crazy and ignored her.”

“Wait, so you knew her back in school?” Rainbow wondered, finally letting Twilight go and hopping up to hover above the table.

“You know, I’m not sure anymore,” Twilight replied, looking at the floor and inspecting the books damaged in the fight. “I didn’t think I could miss somepony quite that crazy…”

“Humans talk kinda like that, you don’t call them crazy,” Rainbow pointed out.

“They do?” Twilight stared at her. “…You’re right, they do. I don’t want to admit it, but Trixie might actually know something… But how?”

“Princess Luna, maybe?” Rainbow shrugged.

Speaking of crazy… What’s a trapped chair doing in a library anyway, and how did I manage to pick just the one to sit on? Is Rainbow still messing with me? On a hunch, I kicked the thing, and immediately jumped back. The chair tilted, but stayed in place, and with a low rumble and a loud crash, two shelves moved aside to reveal… well, what do you know, it’s not a trap. Rainbow sneezed in the cloud of dust which blew out of the opening.

Twilight jumped, startled by the sounds. “What’s that?”

“Looks like a secret room,” I said. “Let’s check it out? Whatever you’re looking for, it’s got to be hidden, not just lying around.”

“Good point. That does sound more likely… Thanks, Applejack,” Twilight commented, letting the books she was trying to piece together slowly descend to the floor and making a slight smile.

Inside we found a cozy little room, with perfectly preserved pillows – the Princesses sure like their conservation magic, you’d think it would all rot into dust by now like most of the other furniture – and a little lectern with a single book on it. Twilight rushed towards the lectern and almost bumped into the thing.

“Journal of the Two Sisters,” she read the title aloud.

Whatever you say, this sounds like a prize alright.

Author's Note

Yes, Applejack doesn’t think she has enough of an accent to notice it with every phrase.

Conversation 17: Rarity

“Strange. I was so sure it would be hoof… that is, hand-stitched, but it’s definitely not,” I commented.

I finally got Mary all to myself. The fashion encyclopedia heavily implied that human tribes have very stringent and rather different views on when it is permissible to disrobe, so I made it obvious we were not to be disturbed when Twilight showed up, asking us to participate in yet another dangerous expedition. She had Applejack and Rainbow Dash with her already, so I wasn’t particularly worried.

Now, while Mary was lounging on my fainting couch, after enduring what must have been an uncomfortable and exhausting session when I took every measurement of her body I could think of, I was studying her dress, which I finally got to examine in detail. Book knowledge is all well and good, but there is no substitute to turning an outfit inside out and looking at the seams.

Somehow, Mary managed to make me feel embarrassed to stare at her still clothed form openly, so only with a corner of my eye I could see the garments called “underwear,” covering the pale skin. I suppose it’s about time socks made a comeback, but the sheer number of layers of clothing humans wear seems excessive. Mary wears at least one less layer than the time period of this dress mandated, and it still feels excessive to me, and that semi-hard shell piece they call a “corset” looks more like a torture implement than clothing, just like the saddles of our great-grandmothers generation. I could never imagine it were even possible to be overdressed, the very idea boggles the mind, and yet…

“Why would it be?” Mary inquired. “Where it came from, hand stitching is not in that high of a demand.”

“It seems to be an Edwardian period English dress,” I explained. Having assimilated the entire encyclopedia, I’ve become quite the expert, sometimes I surprise myself. “The encyclopedia mentioned that this was the time when hand-stitching became the sign of a quality custom garment, was it wrong? Because it’s clearly one of a kind.” It fits her way too well.

“No, that’s about right,” Mary chuckled, “But it isn’t an authentic period dress. I’m originally from that period. The dress is just a copy of the same dress I wore back when I found my time machine. A tenth generation copy, to be exact, extra pockets and everything.”

“You can’t be serious, darling!” I exclaimed in horror. “It’s like you hardly ever wear anything else!”

“I actually don’t have a big wardrobe, I move around a lot,” Mary grinned at me. “But no, of course not. It’s just the dress I always wear whenever I travel somewhere unfamiliar. This particular look has one decisive advantage.”

“Does it?” I wondered. “Don’t get me wrong, Mary, it might not be the in thing, so to speak, but it suits you, and there is no worry about it being in good taste,” I tried to explain, doing my best not to offend. It might not be a masterpiece, but she cares more for her appearance than half the mares in Ponyville, the least I can do is encourage it. “It makes you look even more exotic than you already are, at least to ponies. And yet, I have no end of ideas that would be… better, to put it simply.”

“There are few times and places in my world where it’s in fashion,” Mary explained, “but there are no times and places I’m likely to end up in where it’s inappropriate.”

“I find it difficult to imagine why would this be such a problem,” I admitted. “Certainly, what’s good for a stage wouldn’t work for a date, but it shouldn’t be very hard to find something suitable for both, if you absolutely have to.”

“Most human clothing would be entirely inappropriate for anything just a hundred years before its manufacture,” Mary said, stretching out on the couch and propping her head with her hand. “It would certainly prevent me from being taken seriously. In my world, people who live fifty years away are merely less alien than ponies. Sometimes, the same people. Everything changes. And it’s never, ever, even remotely like everyone imagines it.”

“Ponies will be ponies,” I said. “I doubt humans won’t be humans.”

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Mary grinned. “But there’s a lot more to being human… Turns of phrase, the ways you shop, whether you should expect a gentleman to hold the door open for you… It takes years to adjust to all these things. I spent months wondering why pink is supposed to be a ‘girl color,’ while blue is a ‘boy color,’ for me it was always the other way round, if anything at all.”

“Who could even imagine such nonsense?!” I exclaimed. “Everypony has their own colors!”

“Humans usually come in a much smaller color palette than ponies,” Mary replied. “Only a few skin colors, a few natural hair colors, and while you can dye hair, it doesn’t work with skin… There’s a multitude of status and age distinctions which takes a native to fully grasp. If I go back to when this dress was in fashion, I’m not supposed to wear my hair down, for example. I can only get away with it because I’m exceptionally well preserved.”

“Oh come on, darling, you’re talking like an old mare,” I insisted. “You’re never too old to care about your hair, or wear it whichever way suits you best!”

“I’m at least ten years older than you, Rarity,” Mary commented with a wry grin. “Just don’t tell Pinkie, she’s trying to guess my birthday, I really want to know what kind of number she comes up with.”

“A-ha-ha, really. A lady never reveals her age,” I grinned back. “It’s not that I can really tell, but… ten years?” She clearly gives the impression of youth, judging by my limited exposure to the human models and historical figures in the encyclopedias. If anything, I thought she’d be a bit younger.

“Probably fifteen,” Mary confirmed. “Tachyon bursts slow down a lot of processes in soft tissues.”

Those references to concepts we don’t have sometimes make her more difficult to understand than Twilight. “Tachyon bursts?”

“Time machine, advanced physics, remember?” Mary smiled. “So I kind of look a lot younger than I should, even if I don’t have any real teeth anymore,” she added, smiling and for the first time showing off her teeth. Perfectly normal looking, I wonder what she meant. “Even with that, I’ve got nothing on ponies. By all appearances, Twilight’s mother still looks exactly the same as she did on the day you all got your cutie marks.”

“To your eye, maybe,” I conceded. “I’ll be the first to admit I would have trouble telling two griffons apart if they didn’t have color variations, but trust me, darling, years show prominently on a pony’s face if she doesn’t care for herself, and the same applies to you.”

“Never said it didn’t,” Mary replied, “But tracking what people think is appropriate is unfeasible, so I just settled on looking moderately alien wherever I go. What would you wear, if you didn’t know what year will be tomorrow?”

“Well, there are some things that never really go out of style…” I agreed. “But you’re staying with us for long enough, aren’t you?” I grinned. I think I can see where this is going. “Stop fishing for excuses, you’re going to be wearing one of Rarity’s originals, and that’s final!”

Mary giggled. “Sure, if you can convince me I’d look good with a saddle on my back.”

Of course, there’s no way I can just apply pony fashion to her, but I planned to make something really synthetic, anyway. “Don’t you worry about that, darling, and leave everything to me. I’ll make sure you’ll be the most beautiful and memorable human anywhere you go,” I grinned at her, trying not to let my eyes linger for too long. I have so many new ideas!

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she chuckled playfully. “I’m already pretty memorable here, don’t you think?”

“Far better to be memorable for being beautiful than for just being,” I brushed her off gently, “don’t you agree?”

Mary didn’t reply. Time to change the subject.

“Here, I think I’ve seen enough now, thank you,” I said, gently settling the dress next to her and turning my attention to her boots standing next to me on the floor. Leather, by the looks of it. And the smell. Not a material you see very often in Equestria, though I hear it’s all the rage in griffon lands. “You definitely need new boots,” I declared. “Out here in the country, it will do, but should you decide to visit Canterlot, wearing something’s dead skin will certainly cause comments.”

“It’s kind of difficult to replace leather for boots,” Mary said, standing up and starting to slide into the dress.

“Oh, I can imagine,” I replied, applying a tape measure to the heel of the boot. “Boots only really became a thing when synthetic fabrics were invented. But with the sophisticated look you have going on, it would be totally passe. Inappropriate, as you say. I don’t think any ready-made pony boots would fit you, though…” I added, fishing my own winter boot out of the wardrobe and putting it next to hers for comparison.

That can’t be right…

“I was wondering if you would notice,” Mary said with a slight grin, sitting down back onto the couch and studying my expression. “This is almost as bad as the sandwich.”

I always thought the protrusion on the front part of the boot called a “toe” was purely decorative, so that ponies in front of you get a better view of the boot. At least half my shoes don’t even have them, they’re on the way out. And here is a creature from another world, with her anatomy not matching anything on the entire continent, and while the proportions are different… the toe is where the rest of the foot goes. And while nopony knows much of anything about dragon culture, not even Spikey, I’m sure they’re not the type to wear boots.

“Tell me, Mary,” I said, not taking my eyes off the boot. “Am I… a popular character?” If there’s anything that could convince me I’m actually a character in a book, it’s got to be that boot. Someone, something… wrote the boots this way.

Mary replied instantly. “You’re one of the Mane Six, of course you are.” What a silly way to call our little group. I suppose, it feels natural for a human…

“Is our story illustrated?” I asked next.

“Its primary form is an animated serial movie,” Mary stated. “If I were to print every available picture of you, I think the pile would be taller than the town hall.”

Well, there’s no doubt at least some of them do me justice, then. “Are all of them… ahem… decent?” I said, staring into her eyes, and finding nothing, except a disconcerting twitch of the golden dragon eye. I’m still not sure whether to play this quirk up or mask it, this eye is so beautiful, and yet, the way it moves…

“Far from it,” Mary replied in a very flat tone.

“Perfect. I’m pretty sure I won’t end up as an old maid, then,” I grinned. “Not that I ever really doubted, but it’s nice to have such a confidence boost.”

“That’s… an unexpected reaction,” Mary giggled out, breaking into a wide, relieved smile.

“Why?” I smiled back. “If I can inspire even a human to view me in that way, I dare say I’ve got it made. I have no more cause to feel scandalized than Sapphire Shores.” Actually, I’d swoon, but Mary’s taking up the couch. “My only worry should be staying interesting and fabulous for the rest of my years!” I exclaimed, posing for the invisible artist and adjusting my hair. Remember that, humans, whoever you are! I certainly shall not leave you disappointed.

“Imagining themselves at the whim of some invisible author tends to… displease people,” Mary commented. “Twilight, at least, seems to hate the idea.”

“Working on alternative explanations, I expect?” I inquired. The poor girl has been absent-minded for most of the weekend. “That’s so Twilight, it’s like the Pinkie Sense Research all over again. Is that why she wanted us to go to the castle in Everfree?”

“I imagine so,” Mary said, picking up a boot and sliding it on. “Which is one of the reasons I’d rather not get noticed at all, to be honest. I’ve done enough damage already.”

“Oh, Mary, whatever do you mean?!” I exclaimed.

“There’s a peculiar balance between being written and just being, which I can’t say I fully understand,” she said, gently pulling the other boot out of my magic. I let it go. “It’s like everything has two reasons to exist at once. I have an intuition, that finding out the other reason will change Equestria forever,” she continued, zipping the boots up. “But I don’t know if that change will be for the better or worse. And it was me who started it, by asking Twilight a question,” she concluded, staring into my eyes with a serious expression.

“Friends asking questions could never be for the worse,” I insisted.

“Forgive me, Rarity, but ponies are far too liberal with this word,” she replied in a flat voice. “Friendship is not necessarily bidirectional. You have no idea how my mind works, or what do I even mean by the word. My representation of pony mentality is, likewise, extremely sparse. We really know next to nothing about each other, and won’t for quite a while.”

I could not come up with an answer to that.

Mary reached out with her finger and softly tapped me on the muzzle. “Which is precisely why I have no idea what will happen. This is not my story.”

And that was the moment when I finally understood what kind of dress Mary really needs. It really was an epiphany, of sorts.

It’s easy to assume that Twilight is introverted. I actually thought that myself when I first met her, with her running away from my boutique like that. But I saw the error pretty quickly. She isn’t introverted, just very socially inexperienced and anxious, which has been waning with time. The poor girl spent most of her life caring about nothing but magic, it comes with the territory. But she thinks nothing about public speaking on the spur of the moment, taking the reins of a large group of ponies and suddenly ordering all of them around, it comes naturally to her. Give her advance warning, and she will worry herself into a coiffure emergency in minutes, but don’t, and she will do just as well, if not better. It was easy to devise a design that draws on her beauty, because she is not actually hiding it, she just doesn’t know it’s there.

Mary, on the other hoof, for all her scholarly similarities, her propensity for lecturing, the nearly identical awkwardness, really is an introvert. I remember how she managed to single out ponies when the entire party was trying to ask her questions, answering each as if she were alone in the room with the one asking. She even managed to do this with Pinkie, who bounces around the room so fast that it’s impossible to monopolize her attention. What Mary needs isn’t a dress that will make her the star of the party, oh no. For humans, a dress isn’t just a means of expression, but also a necessity, as basic as the coat of hair that we take for granted. So she would politely thank me, and then try her best to avoid wearing it, forever.

Rainbow Dash doesn’t like to wear dresses, because she thinks it conflicts with her rough and tumble image, which she cares about so much, that she will do her utmost to convince you otherwise. Applejack doesn’t like to wear dresses, because she thinks that it’s a pointless, worthless luxury. But that did not stop them from enjoying the dresses I made them for the Gala, which at least saved that miserable affair from being a complete loss for me.

And here we have Mary, who needs to wear clothing just for baseline comfort, and would still refuse it, because it attracts attention. Just how many mares across Equestria share this attitude? There’s Fluttershy right here, but that’s the trouble with introverts, you don’t notice them, they notice you. No, a human among ponies will never be short of attention. What she really needs is a garment that will command it when she needs it, let her blend into the scenery, and yet lock the eyes of whoever she really needs to talk to when she’s ready. It’s a very different approach, instead of charming entire rooms, it’s about charming one on one, striking straight at the heart from the shadows.

I shall need to remember everything I know about enchantment and cloth with variable properties. This will be a challenge, but if I can pull this off… Fame and fortune comes and goes, and every season brings new fashion. But that is the sort of thing that ensures a designer’s place in history, an idea as fundamental as the button. A means to bring the gift of fashion to ponies who previously shied away from it.

This, my human friend, is much, much bigger than either of us.

Author's Note

There are a lot of fan theories on the subject of saddles, by the way. Allow me to present yet another one: Just like a corset, a saddle’s primary, original function is to shape a pony’s back so that it’s curved downwards, which ponies believed to be more aesthetically pleasing at the time, and originally, they were worn under a dress.

With time, ~~corsets~~ saddles became more elaborate, and they started wearing them on the outside of the dress, which seemed bold and enticing. Eventually, the function of rigid back shaping was almost entirely lost, and they became a primarily decorative article.

Conversation 18: Twilight Sparkle

“It’s clearly fake. I suppose you can see why,” I sighed.

The little adventure in the castle of the Royal Pony Sisters was concluded, Applejack excused herself and returned to the farm, and even Rainbow decided she told enough ponies about our duel with Trixie and went off to do something else, leaving me alone with our prize.

We came back loaded with books, and yet, the only actual prize was the Journal. There was no doubt in my mind, that the pile of books on the floor that we found when we finally reached the library was there because Trixie had already rifled through it. Anything critically important for my hypothesis the library might have contained was certain to be gone. And now that I’ve had a chance to study that journal in more detail, I was disappointed beyond words, almost to the point of crying.

“Well, I can read it, for one. Which by itself makes it rather suspect,” Mary said, leafing through the journal. “I would expect the language to change a lot more in a thousand years, judging by Princess Luna.”

“Modern Equish is not that much of a stretch. Old Equish was just the language of formal documents and court speech,” I disagreed. “Using the modern Equish script for it is, I’m not sure when that was created, but I think it’s supposed to be much newer. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg! Nopony really knows where and how Princess Celestia was born, she never told me that, nopony ever dared ask, but there is no trace of an alicorn culture anywhere. King Bullion, ‘of the Unicorns,’ whoever that is, somehow avoided the coronation of Princesses of Equestria, sworn protectors of the Equestria Accords he supposedly signed. ‘Luna’ writes a detailed description of how she pranked the Founders, and then ‘Celestia’ writes ‘I know it was you’ on the very next page. All zebras talk in rhyme! Every other page is a load of horseapples, and the rest of them are a little filly’s friendship album!” I paused to take a breath and straighten my mane. It’s simply infuriating!

“Oh really,” Mary said in a blank voice, turning another page.

“I just don’t get how could anypony ever be so stupid!” I kept pacing around. Yes, this whole business has me pretty flustered. “Get into a ruined castle that stood untouched for centuries, explore it in detail, – the description of the trap controls matches perfectly! – write a fake journal, leave it in a secret room we only discovered by accident… and still make enough mistakes that only a foal wouldn’t see it’s fake! If they put in so much work to prank ponies they wouldn’t even ever meet, couldn’t they at least be competent?!”

“When was paper invented?” Mary asked, rubbing one of the pages softly between her fingers.

“Pre-Settlement,” I replied. “Way before sandwiches, it’s actually older than parchment.”

“It’s odd that parchment even exists,” Mary commented, “I don’t think you have an excess of animal skins.”

“Skins?!” I exclaimed. “What the hay are you talking about?”

Mary glanced at me curiously. “In my language, ‘parchment’ is a word used primarily for a writing material made from processed animal skins dried under tension. Typically goats.”

I shuddered. “I presume this at least involves eating the goat.” I know just how universal reading is in her world, so imagining entire populations of goats slaughtered just for storing knowledge is way too conflicting.

“Of course,” Mary confirmed, not even batting an eyelid. “It was the preferred writing medium before paper was mass-produced.”

“Well, we use the word ‘parchment’ for paper treated with sulfuric acid during manufacture,” I explained, holding my scroll of questions out for her, so that she could see the texture. “I started using it because it doesn’t stain or tear easily, you can never be too careful with your lecture notes when you’re taking care of a little dragon. Then it became a habit.”

“Yet another linguistic collision, then,” Mary commented dispassionately, and turned back to the book.

She kept leafing through it in silence for a while. It’s half-empty, and the hornwriting is very neat, so it didn’t take her very long before she was done. “This book is type IV impossible. Or the author is a time traveler,” she finally stated without the barest hint of humor in her voice.

“You humans sure like to sort things into numbered types,” I commented, unrolling my scroll of questions and adding yet another line to the bottom. I’ll have to wiggle the whole classification out of her one day, but right now, the thought that this journal isn’t just a fake, but also impossible, sounds more interesting. “How can you tell? Is it some sort of time distortion that I can’t see, or…?”

“No-no, nothing silly like that,” Mary smirked at me. “Type IV is impossible in genesis. There is nothing that prevents it from existing, as such. It’s probably not what it says it is, sure. But it should be impossible to for it to be written at all, no matter when that happened.”

“…What?!” I jumped.

“The exception would be an author capable of experiencing two time periods divided by a thousand years,” Mary added. “Which would be the case if the journal is real, the authors are who they say they are, and they’re writing nonsense deliberately. But that’s… well, that’s either royally stupid, or pranking on such a level, that you may as well blame my existence on Pinkie, knock on the door, and tell her it’s time to yell ‘surprise!’ because—”

Mary caught herself in the middle of her phrase and we nervously looked in the direction of the door.

Fortunately, no Pinkie was forthcoming. That’s right, she has a double shift at Sugarcube today.

I stared at Mary, letting out a breath. “Just what are you basing this on?”

“For starters, just how many ponies were even aware Princess Luna exists, before your rediscovery of the Elements?” Mary offered.

I took a moment to consider that. “I’m not sure. It’s possible that nopony was, or the prophecy of Nightmare Moon’s return would have been on somepony’s calendar.” A few academics might have known, but I’d need to do a lot of reading to be certain. “Which just means that the journal was written afterwards, that’s not impossible.”

It does mean, that whoever wrote it is somepony who spent a lot of time exploring the Everfree Forest and the ruined castle, which places them squarely into Ponyville. I don’t know of anypony who fits, except maybe Zecora, who certainly doesn’t seem to be the kind of zebra to entertain herself by writing a fake diary for unsuspecting archaeologists. But life’s full of surprises.

Mary shook her head. “It’s actually the ultimate out of place artifact. Look,” she said, gingerly holding the open journal with both hands, and slowly pushing it in my direction. It was open on a page where a bright picture of a city was pasted in. “Does this image mean anything to you?”

“I thought it was just a scale model,” I said. Now that she has drawn my attention to it, I noticed that the distorted depth of field one would expect in a photo of a scale model simply wasn’t there… but by itself, that doesn’t mean anything, because it’s not really a photo, it just looks like one. “I’ve seen a few pictures like this. Mostly in works trying to imagine how ponies of the future might live. City planning, that sort of thing.”

“It’s a color photograph,” Mary stated. “When was color photography invented, by the way?”

Not as long ago as you would need to make this journal real, but that by itself doesn’t mean much. “Actually, it’s not a photograph. It’s an imprint, a completely different, purely magical process,” I explained. “They’re difficult to make, but they were around for hundreds of years.” I’m not even sure how long.

The corners of Mary’s lips curled. “Taken from the air. By a unicorn. Presumably, with a pegasus holding him up by the tail.”

I decided to ignore the sarcasm and bit back the comment about chariots, which exist to solve just that sort of problem. Not to mention balloons and numerous less popular earth pony inventions.

“So, do you know of a place called Crystal Empire?” Mary insisted, tapping a line on the page with her finger.

“Not really,” I admitted, “But there were over forty pony kingdoms that were eventually absorbed into Equestria. This went on for the entire First Celestial Era. Every other polis was an empire! And at least a few of them definitely did not actually exist, so it can be just as fake as the—”

“Wait,” Mary interrupted me, “That feels like yet another linguistic collision. What does the word ‘empire’ mean?”

Oh no, not again! They keep making me doubt we’re actually understanding each other at all. “It means a kingdom capable of ‘impervious’ static defense of the entire population,” I explained. “In less archaic terms, this usually meant a really tall wall around a relatively small settlement. There’s also a connotation of being multi-tribal at least to some degree… What, it doesn’t match yours either?”

“No, it doesn’t, and I certainly didn’t expect this one. It actually explains some things…” Mary sighed. “So how does your opinion change,” she continued, gently closing the book and placing it back on the table, as if it were a vial of dangerous chemicals, “if I tell you, that Crystal Empire still exists? That it looks exactly like this picture? That it is currently impossible to access, and has been so for at least a thousand years?”

I just had to clarify that kind of statement. “Impossible like …?”

Mary bit her lip thoughtfully, “I’ve no clue what sort of magic is involved, but it is currently supposed to be frozen in time in some sort of …pocket space, I don’t know. It should reappear within a month, if nothing prevents that.”

This took a moment to sink in. “Is this… from my future?”

“Very much yours, yes,” Mary nodded, as if she didn’t say anything more extraordinary than predicting I would have muffins for breakfast tomorrow. She told me we can talk about my future later, if I want to, but I’ve been… avoiding the topic, so far. “It’s an important part of your story, with three heartsongs to it. All three with you leading,” she added.

Huh. “Three? How long did… …will this adventure take?” I asked.

“My guess, if it even happens, about a week, but it’s not like I have a timetable,” Mary shrugged. “For you, it starts with an urgent summons to Canterlot, you can’t miss it.”

That sounds life-changing. Just what would have to happen for me to have three heartsongs in a single week?! Even one means something important is going on!

And do I really want to know?

“I know of a few versions of Equestria where Crystal Empire does not exist,” Mary added, “but in those, your brother doesn’t exist.”

“What does it have to do with my brother?!” I jumped, startled. How is it possible that Shining Armor doesn’t exist?!

“It’s also his adventure,” Mary explained.

Whew. I love my friends, but if we’re counting, my brother is still my oldest and best friend, and nothing can change this. Any adventure with him is definitely going to end well.

“But if this world was one of those, it would make the book more impossible, not less,” Mary continued. “And the journal does mention a tree. I’m sure that’s the tree the Elements of Harmony come from. The one you have never heard about.”

That’s right. This has to be the tree that Mary mentioned before, “elements of all that is good and true” leaves few other options. That’s got to be a piece of knowledge which is really hard to come by, it’s not even hinted at in “Elements of Harmony: A Reference Guide.” I sat back on my pillow and considered the possibilities.

If it is a prank, it’s incredibly contrived. Taken together with the information Mary just supplied, it crosses from incredible all the way to impossible. Either Mary’s in on it, which simply can’t happen, or I’m being pranked by the Princess herself. Which could happen, and would probably make me very happy, but it doesn’t feel like her style. Her pranks rarely ever fail, when this one clearly did. There’s a certain chance I’m being pranked by Princess Luna instead, which would be a first, but that’s still way too contrived. She might have directed Trixie to challenge me, and at the first opportunity, I’m going to talk to her about it, but finding the journal was way too random for me to be the target.

No, it’s not a prank, and I should smack myself for even thinking that. And while the journal is clearly not what it says it is, knowing why it was actually written and who wrote it becomes very important…

If the Crystal Empire is not a real place in our world, a picture Mary recognizes would imply the author had access to other worlds. Either directly, or in the same mysterious way authors of fiction supposedly do. It’s incredibly intriguing if they had direct access, but merely curious if they did not. If the imprint is made from memory, this is a possibility, but since color photography was perfected, it almost became a lost art, because in terms of difficulty, it’s on par with teleportation. Less power, more finesse. Something Trixie or Rarity would be good at. And even then, Rarity would just draw, she’s incredibly good. The author of the journal is still suspiciously knowledgeable, because, together with outright nonsense, it contains a lot of really esoteric truth.

But if Mary is correct, there’s an adventure involving the Crystal Empire somewhere in my near future. Which should be easy to verify. In that case, there are plausible possibilities that don’t rely on other worlds, or Mary’s fiction theory. The most plausible one would be that somepony acquired some truly ancient relics, and used them in making this book. The other, less plausible one, is that the mysterious author of the journal really is a time traveler. One with a much more advanced time spell than the one I used, or at least, a spell that permits them to reliably see across time. It still leaves the question of ‘why’ unanswered, but more information should turn up if I can deduce their identity, if only through getting my hooves on their spells.

In any of those cases, scrutinizing the journal down to the smallest detail is the only real clue I have, because it’s possible for the journal to originate both in my past and in my future. Hay, I could be the author myself, for reasons I simply don’t know just yet and using a time spell I will learn later. If the Crystal Empire reappears sometime soon, taking a photo or an imprint of it would be easy.

“How the hay do you manage to turn everything into a mystery novel?” I muttered, glancing at Mary, who got bored while I was thinking and was now casually leafing through the book, gently turning the pages over.

“How the hay everything in your world manages to turn into a mystery novel?” Mary countered. “I’m just looking into places you normally wouldn’t bother to investigate and know a few things you don’t.”

She does have a point. “Let’s start by making a list of what we know, then,” I proposed, picking up a fresh piece of parchment and readying a quill. Mary might try to wiggle out of actively participating in this quest, but while she’s in my library, I’m definitely not letting her avoid a consulting role.

“Well, fact number one is, this journal exists,” Mary pointed out. “Unless illusions and other magic shenanigans are involved.”

“They aren’t,” I confirmed. “There is no enchantment on it,” I said. The moment I started having doubts, that was the first thing I checked, enchanting a book to make it read like something else was a trick very popular among pre-classical mages. Star Swirl the Bearded was famous for hiding his more dangerous spells behind recipes, which is why I also packed every cookbook I could find in the library. “No preservation enchantments either, so it can’t be more than a hundred years old, even assuming optimal storage conditions. The paper is too new.”

“In its own timeline,” Mary commented. “That does not settle when it was written.”

“Then that’s fact number two,” I said, writing this one down. “We don’t know when it was written, but we know it did not spend a thousand years in that room.”

“For number three…” Mary said, and paused, chewing on her lip. “The author is a girl, who had yet to find her cutie mark, so about nine years old at the time of writing. Allow plus-minus three.”

I dropped my quill into the inkwell and stared at her. “Just how do you know that?”

“I read a lot of diaries?” Mary shrugged. “You said it yourself, it reads like a filly’s friendship album. Whoever wrote it is very sensitive about not having a cutie mark. When those come up in the text, they make sure to point out that Celestia and Luna are much older than everypony else, and want to be treated according to their age, but the actual text displays none of the experience that would come with such an age. And there isn’t even a single poem in it, so she wasn’t a late bloomer.”

“What do poems have to do with it?” I wondered.

“Puberty,” Mary replied tersely. Then, sensing my confusion, she elaborated, “The author displays no tangible romantic interest, not even for Star Swirl. There’s one entry when Luna spends some alone time with him, and it never gets romantic either.”

“Well, I wouldn’t write that sort of thing in a journal!” I stated, almost blushing. I never dared to commit thoughts like these to paper.

“I wouldn’t either,” Mary grinned, “But most teenagers do, unless they skip straight to mathematics, like we both did. If the author did, it would show, but it doesn’t.”

I guess I can mark this one as tentative. “Let’s go with that,” I said, writing it down. “I can’t imagine a filly with no cutie mark being capable of time travel in any fashion, though.”

“That makes fact number four!” Mary said, raising a finger. “Whoever placed the journal into the secret room is not necessarily the same person as the author.”

“This is starting to look like a list of things we don’t know,” I commented, writing that one down as well. Now I have not just one, but potentially two ponies to track down.

“These can make a very telling picture too,” Mary pointed out.

And once again, she has a point.

Author's Note

And that’s the chapter that merits this story the bookshelf name “Unfortunate Conflict Of Evidence” and also the reason why I keep using the Journal in my canon research even while pointing out its numerous faults: It is a dramatic opportunity like no other.

If my dear readers wish to voice any guesses on who wrote it, please wrap them in a spoiler tag. :)

If you are puzzled as to why they are puzzled at all, here’s a blog post on the subject that describes the Journal problem in detail.

Conversation 19: Rainbow Dash

I balanced the sandwich on my hoof and licked my lips.

Next to me, Twilight was still droning on. “—but this journal only brought new puzzles, as if the whole Sandwich Problem wasn’t hard enough already!” she said. Her glance drifted across my sandwich and she jerked, like she just saw a poisonous snake. Well, too bad, more sandwiches for me.

“Why don’t ya just ask the Princess?” Applejack asked.

“Don’t you get it?” Twilight said, throwing her hooves up. “She said it was a quest, you don’t come back to say ‘please explain the next clue to me’ after that.”

“Well, if ya say so,” Applejack replied without any particular enthusiasm, pulling the plate with her slice of the cake closer. “Would’a saved us a lot of time an’ effort, if ya didn’t treat it like homework, I reckon.”

“It’s not homework, Applejack,” Twilight pressed. “It’s research. Just like a Daring Do adventure, too, I spent years dreaming of something like that. If I ask the Princess, either she tells me everything, and then there’s no adventure, or I just embarrass myself. It’s considered very impolite to ask her directly about early Equestria. I don’t know why, but it just is, I got away with more questions than anypony I know.”

The picnic started regular enough, but Twilight was determined to talk about every single boring part of the castle adventure and the book we found, leaving out all the awesome stuff and chewing theories instead. She was actually in danger of permanently decreasing the coolness of our favorite picnic spot. Until they figure out something, I’d rather take a nap.

But I’ll finish the sandwich, first.

I looked across the blanket at Fluttershy, and found her staring into the ground and munching on a cookie with a blank face, surrounded by her favorite birds, who were patiently waiting for crumbs to drop. She’s been completely out of it ever since the Canterlot trip, but getting her to talk about what’s troubling her has always been really hard. Guess I’ll just have to wait until she finally collects the courage to spell it out or the problem solves itself. I’ve been watching her closely the entire time, but it’s not something as easy to see as flight school bullies.

“And we also need to find Trixie!” Pinkie piped up.

“Why the hay would we ever want to find Trixie?” Twilight asked, narrowing her eyes. “I’d be much happier if I never met her again, I plan to talk straight to Princess Luna instead.”

“Because Trixie skipped out on her official ‘Welcome to Ponyville’ Pinkie Pie Party. TWICE!” Pinkie waved two hooves in the air. I have seen her wave five hooves this way, once, it was very confusing.

“Sorry to interrupt, Pinkie, but is she even eligible for that?” Rarity wondered. “She never moved to Ponyville, I thought you didn’t throw parties for every random visitor.”

“She left her wagon here,” Pinkie insisted, tapping the ground with a hoof. “That counts!”

“What’s left of her wagon, you mean,” Rarity clarified.

Pinkie nodded excitedly, “That’s what I said!”

Rarity sighed, but found nothing to say, and instead chose to adjust her gigantic hat and pour herself another cup of tea. “So, what sort of a puzzle did the journal introduce?” she asked, looking at Twilight.

Twilight sighed right back. “It’s a fake, and it was hidden in the secret room relatively recently. But it’s written by a filly with no cutie mark, who somehow saw Equestria before Discord’s original rampage and knew things no filly could.”

“I don’t get it,” I commented. What’s with them both, it started out as such a nice picnic?…

“I don’t either,” Twilight said, cutting a slice of cake for herself. “And neither does Mary. The list of things we could figure out about it is really just a list of things we don’t know.”

“Time travel again?” I suggested. It sure turns up often these days.

“Or retrocognition, or something, no idea,” Twilight replied, folding her ears and staring at her cake. “Not enough information. I’m not even sure if this is really connected to the Sandwich Problem or not, but it’s one hay of a coincidence for this journal to turn up now, not to mention there.”

“I don’t see why the sandwich should be a problem, darling,” Rarity smiled.

Twilight frowned at her. “Haven’t you been listening?”

“Oh, of course I have, Twilight,” Rarity said. “I just can’t help but feel you’re digging yourself into a hole. So we’re the main characters of a story. What’s the problem with that? It’s not something we can prevent, and I rather think it is quite pleasant to know.”

Twilight sighed, levitating the cake off her plate and biting off at least half of the piece. She spent some time chewing it before she started explaining. “Let me give you an example. Imagine a story, a completely hypothetical story, where Pinkie, here, suddenly kidnaps Rainbow Dash and brutally murders her, with intention to bake her into cupcakes.”

“Hey!” I exclaimed with a full mouth. Seriously, this might make a nice ghost story, but you don’t tell that sort of thing when other ponies are eating! On the other side of the blanket, Pinkie made a hurt face at Twilight, while Fluttershy flattened herself completely against the ground and covered her head with her hooves in fear. Applejack just tilted her hat forward, covering her eyes.

“It’s just for the sake of the example, it’s completely hypothetical,” Twilight waved her hooves at us with the most sheepish face I saw on her since the Smartypants Incident. “You can’t imagine it, right? Pinkie can’t imagine it either, none of us can imagine it. It’s nonsense. Right? I picked this because it’s unimaginable, it’s impossible.”

“Right,” everypony chorused. Even Fluttershy relaxed a bit and returned to ruminating on her cookie.

“But by the definition of that Unlimited Library, it’s a story that will be a real world when somepony writes it, and when doing so, that somepony kills one pony and drives another one insane,” Twilight said, feeding a tiny piece of cake to one of the birds, and nearly starting a fight between them. It took a glare from Fluttershy to stop them, and Twilight had to tear off a few more pieces of cake. “A Pinkie that suddenly decides to murder somepony is nonsense, there’s nothing that can make her do that. It’s not obvious, but sandwiches are also nonsense. If explaining them with authorial intent is enough, it means, that beyond that author, there is no other law to the world, anything can happen. Even something as horrible as what I just described. Anything.”

Rarity took her hat off and started waving it at herself in a cloud of magic, which resulted in a pleasant breeze. “That does sound like a problem…” she said. “So you want to prove that we aren’t actually characters in a story. Just ponies about whom the story is written.”

“Not quite,” Twilight shook her head. “I don’t agree with this theory, but I can’t prove or disprove it, and I don’t need to. If we can find the real reason for the sandwiches to exist, the story theory becomes just another possible explanation of how the universe works. Whatever explains the sandwiches will probably explain a lot of other things, too.”

Pinkie giggled. “I know the real reason!”

“Really?” Twilight stared at her. “Don’t tell me, Pinkie Sense?” she added with a slightly sarcastic grin.

“No, just a story,” Pinkie bounced up. “You see, it was a dark and stormy night…”

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Once upon a time, it was a dark and stormy night.

And then, it was a fresh, sunny, and slightly wet morning, and Chancellor Puddinghead was having breakfast in her chambers. It so happened, that her chambers at the time were a guest room in the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters, which was the reason the chancellor was alone in the first place – the Princesses of Equestria treated breakfast as a private meal, and everypony only assembled in the Great Hall by brunch, and not a minute earlier.

It also so happened, that the guest room was at the top of one of the tallest towers. Taken together, all these things were a sure recipe to keep Puddinghead bored out of her considerable wits. So it was no surprise whatsoever, that when Puddinghead popped her head out of the window and dropped her jam toast down, Smart Cookie, whose room was just below, was witness to the unfortunate food item flying past her window.

“Good morning, your chancellorship,” Smart Cookie sighed.

“Good morning! And fetch me that jam toast, will you?” Puddinghead replied.

“That strikes me as highly impractical, your chancellorness,” Smart Cookie commented, peeking outside cautiously. “You dropped it right into the sand pit,” she added, because that was precisely what happened. What exactly was a sand pit doing in the castle courtyard was anypony’s guess, but mercifully, there were no foals playing in it when the toast splashed down. Or any foals in the castle at all, at least, not yet, which is why a sand pit was so out of place.

“Shut up and get to it!” Puddinghead snapped at her. “I’m about to have an idea! Don’t impede the progress, Cookie!”

“Right away, your chancellency…” Smart Cookie grumbled, and started the long trek out of her room and down the stairs.

Things went quiet for a while, which was more than enough time for Puddinghead to spread jam on another toast. And then spread it on a bedpost, a table, the door hinges, and her own hat.

“It’s completely inedible, chancellor!” came a yell from the outside, when Smart Cookie finally navigated the maze of the castle corridors and arrived to the sand pit. “It’s all covered in sand, as could be expected.”

“Of course!” Puddinghead yelled back. “But which side is up? I can’t see from here!”

“Completely inedible, your chancellitude!” Smart Cookie insisted, waving the unfortunate piece of toast so that Puddinghead would see it better. “Sand stuck to the jam. It fell jam first, I reckon.”

“Darn it, Cookie, you spoiled my experiment, now I don’t know which side was up!” Puddinghead yelled. “We’ll have to repeat that! Watch closely, and report everything you see!” she added, as she released the second toast.

Smart Cookie could not obey that order, as circumstances forced her to tightly squeeze her eyes shut. In fact, the circumstances landed right between these eyes of hers, and remained there, held to her coat by the gooseberry jam. “Right, that’s it,” she hissed, and darted back into the tower.

By the time she reached Puddinghead’s room, the latter had spread jam on a third toast, her own clothes, the teapot, and a few more pieces of furniture. “What are you doing back here?” she complained, as Smart Cookie barged in, nearly knocking the door of its hinges. “We didn’t finish the experiments!”

“We sure did, you chancellence,” Smart Cookie said, gritting her teeth. “Toast always falls jam side down.”

“But how am I to have safe, hygienic breakfast then?” Puddinghead complained.

Instead of answering, Smart Cookie peeled the toast off her own face and slapped it right onto the freshly prepared one that Puddinghead still held in her hooves.

She was about to add a large number of unkind words, but something stopped her. That something was a curious glance of green eyes, peeking at her straight out of a wall. Smart Cookie froze with her mouth open, not sure of what to say anymore.

Noticing she’s been discovered, the owner of the eyes stepped into the room, phasing in like a ghost. If ghosts were dressed in black, walked on two legs, and had blazing, floaty, fire ruby red manes, like some cruel parody of an alicorn princess. “What the actual hell is going on?” the owner of the eyes inquired with very obvious annoyance in her voice.

“Uh… breakfast?” Puddinghead replied, offering the newcomer the two pieces of toast glued together by gooseberry jam, accompanied by a bright smile. “Want some? It’s my new invention, I’m going to call it the sandwich!”

“There’s no sand in it,” the newcomer pointed out, and instead of reaching for the food, looked around, conspicuously ignoring both Puddinghead and Smart Cookie. Suddenly, as if noticing something not visible to mortal eyes, she let out an angry, guttural growl…

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I interrupted her. “Pinkie, what is Rika doing in your story?” Because that’s definitely her. I’m not sure if she can walk through walls, but some of Mary’s superhero friends could, so who knows. That’d be kind of cool.

“I’ve been wondering about that myself,” Pinkie said, scratching her head. “She totally wrecked the punchline…”

“I don’t think I heard the word before, but it sounded very rude… Why?” Rarity wondered. “So far, both of them have been unfailingly polite.”

“I dunno, ask her?” Pinkie replied pointing behind Rarity’s back.

Something very unusual was going on behind Rarity’s back, and I actually dropped the remains of my sandwich back onto the plate and jumped to my hooves, flaring my wings out and preparing to react to this… whatever that was. It started as some sort of dust devil, a mini-tornado sucking in air, dirt, cookie crumbs, grass, and breaking them into particles, which very quickly took on sharp black and red colors and assembled together.

It didn’t even take five seconds for Rika to emerge completely, her dark and spooky form towering over us. “Pinkie…” Rika rasped out, making a step towards Pinkie with an angry grimace on her face. The ground didn’t shake, but it certainly felt like the ground would regret it later.

“Hi Rika!” Pinkie grinned, and bounced up, a plate in her hoof. “Want some cake? You look like you need some cake!”

“No, thank you,” Rika replied, ignoring the cake and grabbing Pinkie by the ear. “Why did you disable page protection, you idiot?!” she hissed, pulling the ear up. “Do you want to start an endless recursion?!” Pinkie followed the ear, flapping in the air like a bedsheet and giggling. It looked very surreal, even if it wasn’t particularly unusual.

“It was a good story! And I know I’m not Puddinhead, I just play her on TV, relax!” Pinkie insisted. “Are you really sure you don’t want cake?” Somehow, she kept the plate upright even though she was swaying left and right beneath the ear, still pinched in Rika’s hand.

Rika sighed deeply. Human faces still look weird, but I think I know this one, it’s the face you get when you’re counting to twenty in your head so you don’t snap at somepony. Once Rika was done, she opened her hand, and Pinkie floated to the ground like an autumn leaf. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Rika mumbled, as she turned around and vanished, blinding me for a split second.

“Pinkie,” Twilight said suddenly, and out of a corner of my eye, I saw hairs slowly peeling out of her neatly combed mane. “If I ask you what this was about, am I going to get a straight answer?”

“But the answer is all twisty like spaghetti, and she mistook cotton candy for spaghetti and they’re not the same, cotton candy isn’t supposed to make sense and she shouldn’t eat it with a fork and if you do the fork gets all sticky and then spaghetti sticks to it and I really just wanted everypony to smile,” Pinkie blurted out at Twilight in a single breath and pushed the plate with cake in her direction. “It’s a nice day out, we’re all here together, we have cake… Shouldn’t we be happy?”

Pinkie is definitely secretly an egghead…

Twilight scowled at Pinkie, but was met with the best puppy dog eyes Pinkie could pull, so instead of saying anything, she just levitated the slice of cake off the plate and swallowed it whole.

“Twilight!” came a yell from the distance, and looking in that direction, I saw Spike, running towards us as fast as his little legs could take him. Mary was following him at a steady walk, falling further and further behind.

I just hope they’re bringing something more fun than another egghead puzzle.

Author's Note

Yes, this is the same picnic that starts “Canterlot Wedding,” so you all should know what sort of news Spike is bringing…

Conversation 20: Applejack

Twilight was pacing around her suitcase in circles.

As usual, she arrived to the station way before everypony else. She always does. She always gives everypony an earlier time than the actual train departure, too, because somepony is always late, and then Twilight gets irritated anyway. But today, she just nodded at me and continued pacing, and Spike, sitting on the suitcase with a quill and her checklist, continued trailing her with his eyes.

“Twilight, you gotta stop before you twist Spike’s head off,” I said.

“Huh?” she stared at me like an owl woken up in the middle of the day. “Oh… Good morning, Applejack,” she said, and resumed pacing in a circle as if she didn’t hear me.

Spike made an apologetic face at me and threw his claws up. “She’s been like this for most of yesterday and the entire morning. Maybe you can figure something out, AJ, because I sure can’t.”

I do have an idea. Kinda. Stepping in her path, I said, “You’re not the one getting married, Twilight.” She bumped into me and I finally got enough of her attention to get considered seriously.

“My brother is getting married, AJ,” she said. “It’s practically the same thing!”

“No it’s not,” I poked her muzzle with a hoof. “It’s worse. But it’s not the same thing, not even close.”

“You don’t get it!” she protested. “First, humans threw off every single schedule I had, then I got all those puzzles with no answers and no clues. I thought at least my family isn’t changing. And then, when I’m trying to relax a bit, I find out that my brother is getting married, and he didn’t even bother to mention it the last time I saw him.”

“And when did that happen? None of us even knew you had a brother,” I wondered. “You didn’t make time to visit him after the Dessert Competition. You didn’t see him at the Gala either, you spent most of that glued to the Princess…”

“It was on Hearth’s Warming. After the play,” Twilight admitted grudgingly.

“That’s long enough to get started on a foal for some. It’s not like you gave the guy a chance, he’s a busy pony with a stressful job. And unlike most of ours, his isn’t very flexible,” I said. “Now, if he forgot to invite you at all, that would be something to write home about.”

“Oh come on, that would be nonsense,” Twilight protested.

“It happens,” I stated. “Sometimes, even to the Apples. But you didn’t just get invited, you were asked to run the thing. Just sit down, relax. Give him a chance to explain himself.”

Twilight sighed and cast her eyes down. “I will. I’m just afraid that what he answers will make it even more confusing.”

I looked at Spike, who shrugged in response. Figures. Before I could say anything else, Pinkie jumped on me out of nowhere and bounced off. “Bouncybouncybouncy! Funfunfunfunfunfunfun! The wonderful thing about weddings is that they’re not a party of one!” she bubbled, jumping around us in circles.

“Applejack, Pinkie, check,” Spike announced, crossing checkboxes on the list, as he remembered he’s still in charge of that.

“Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, check,” Rainbow Dash commented from somewhere above our heads. I looked up and waved to her. “Mark me as extra awesome today,” she added, to the synchronous tweeting of Fluttershy’s birds, who surrounded them both like a cloud.

“Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, bird choir, check. Extra awesome, check,” Spike replied, crossing more checkboxes. Really, she had a checkbox for that, too?… I went around the suitcase to take a glance at the checklist. Ayup, there is a checkbox for “extra awesome.” Sometimes I wonder if Twilight’s crazy or just pretending. Today is one of those times.

“You’re late, Rarity!” I heard Twilight shout. “And you, Mary, I thought you would know better.” Looking up from the checklist, I saw Rarity, all dolled up with freshly styled mane and a recent hooficure and trailed by a cartload of boxes, bags and suitcases held in the glow of her magic. Next to her, Mary looked about as plain as it’s possible for something so tall, and it actually seemed like she’s trying to become one with the nearest wall and succeeding, even though the wall was a dozen steps away.

“We’re fashionably late, darling, it’s an art form!” Rarity exclaimed.

“I knew you would be late, that’s why I always tell everypony to come early,” Twilight snapped. “But I keep hoping you will someday exceed my expectations!”

“And I appreciate that, Twilight, but we needed every last minute,” Rarity smiled back. “Behold, the first in my new line. I shall call it ‘The Spirits of Hearth’s Warming!’”

“I still say this name is out of season,” Mary commented, fidgeting with a small suitcase in her arm.

“Shush, darling, let everypony take a look,” Rarity grinned.

And everypony took a look. Now, usually, Rarity’s work merits a gasp. Occasionally, a gasp of shock, let’s be honest here, sometimes she gets too “avant-garde,” as she says. But usually, it’s a gasp of admiration, I might not be one to wear those things much, but I know pretty when I see it. This time the reaction from everypony was dead silence. Strict, straight lines, like something those town hall bureaucrats wear to work, but way more elaborate. Grey cloth with a faint pattern of a slightly different shade of grey, the eye practically slides off. The only detail worth noticing was a white bow in the middle of the chest, held together by something with a large blue gem in it. That’s the plainest Rarity outfit since Twilight’s birthday celebration in Canterlot, and she apologized for that one, even though Twilight liked it.

“It’s… very Mary,” Twilight finally said. Rarity flashed a winning grin at her, but Twilight decided to change the subject. “Which reminds me… Tell me, Mary, did you know about this wedding in advance?”

“Yes,” Mary replied with an enigmatic smile.

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Twilight inquired, narrowing her eyes.

“Multiple reasons,” Mary started. “For one, it’s possible my knowledge does not apply at all, because I know that Equestrias without this wedding exist. I think there’s at least one where he marries somepony else. You didn’t ask, and I try not to volunteer prophecy.”

While she was speaking, Twilight kept staring at her, and by the end of the phrase, her mouth was hanging half open, but Mary continued, “Furthermore, if I did tell you before that letter arrived, I’m pretty sure Shining Armor would be very angry with me, and…” She paused and threw a curious glance at Rarity, “I think it’s working, but why don’t I see anything?”

“Because Twilight doesn’t have a mirror on her face,” Rarity grinned. “It will be visible in a photo, but alas, we don’t have the time to get one printed.” She looked at Fluttershy, who was still hovering in her cloud of birds and eyeing the dress curiously. “You’re next, Fluttershy, dear, and I won’t hear any excuses!”

The implied threat should have sent Fluttershy covering behind something, and it did. The something happened to be Twilight, at which point Fluttershy adopted Twilight’s pose with mouth hanging slightly ajar. “Oh!” she whispered.

What the hay is going on?

“It’s directional,” Rarity explained, noticing my confusion. “Try to match your line of sight with Twilight, you’ll see it,” she grinned like a madmare with sparkling eyes.

We clustered around Twilight, pressing into her sides, and even Spike hopped onto her back and peeked out between her ears. “Wow, you weren’t kidding, Rarity!” he exclaimed. “She does look just like a spirit!”

“I’m already something of a ghost,” Mary grinned, twirling about and leaving a trail of sparkles in the air, “but it’s nice to know I’m a pretty one at that.” She crouched before Rarity and suddenly planted a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, Rarity, that’s the nicest thing anyone has done for me in years.”

Rarity blushed, but chose to take this exaggerated praise with pride, lifting her horn ever so slightly in the air.

From the right direction, what was a boring, official outfit that most right-minded ponies wouldn’t willingly wear, became a bright, eyecatching number with a complex floral pattern in white, glittering in the light that isn’t supposed to be here. Not a whole lot actually changed, except maybe the color of the gem in the bow – it was a golden yellow now – and yet the effect was radically different. “Is that an illusion?” I wondered.

“Who do you take me for, Applejack, a street magician?” Rarity scoffed. “It is magic, of course, but that’s what it actually looks like.”

“Is that your gem finding spell?!” Twilight asked, wiggling out from between me and Pinkie and walking in a circle around Mary and Rarity, which caused the light pattern to quickly fade from view and returned the dress to its natural grey plainness.

“Trade secret, my dear!” Rarity exclaimed in triumph. Surprising Twilight with magic isn’t something she gets to do often. “I don’t have your theoretical aptitude, so I decided to keep things simple. Microscopic sapphires melded directly into the cloth and the gem finding spell on a reverse vector, with a targeting matrix from basic telekinesis,” she explained, without batting an eyelid. “It’s all in the brooch, the dress itself is quite inert.”

“This is fascinating, I never thought you could use these spells like that!” Twilight commented, completing the circle. As she moved into view, I saw the transformation of the dress again. “Why didn’t you ask me for help?”

“Because I didn’t want to bother you with something so trivial,” Rarity deflected, even though it was very obvious that she considers the work anything but trivial. “I only had the time before the train to finish this, and explaining what I need to do and why would take too long,” she added. “We are on the clock here, aren’t we all?”

True to form, the train chose that moment to arrive – exactly on time, for once – and the hiss of steam drowned out all the little noises on the platform, until Twilight overpowered it with a yell, “Take your places, everypony, we’re still on schedule!”

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On the train, Rarity flooded Twilight with magic questions, which at least got her to stop sulking for good. Fluttershy was listening with keen interest, her eyes following the floating pencil that Rarity was sketching with. She even had something to say about camouflage patterns, most of which I didn’t rightly understand. Rainbow Dash and Pinkie huddled in a corner scheming something, and only Mary was sitting next to a window, alone, near invisible in her new outfit.

I don’t get just how Rarity pulled that off, but no doubt, being invisible was the entire point.

We still have a few hours to kill till we get there, now’s a good time. “What did you mean when you said you’re a ghost, Mary?” I asked.

“Well, ghosts don’t exist, right?” Mary replied. “Which applies to me, in a way.”

“That’s gotta be baloney,” I said. “You were born, sure as sunshine, and had parents just like everyhuman else, and you don’t seem dead yet, so you’re not a ghost. How come you never talk about your family, by the way?”

Mary looked away from the window, and smiled at me. “My family has never existed, so whatever I say about them is essentially nonsense. And before you say this makes me a cliche character, I am well aware.”

“Uh… I beg your pardon?”

“Time travel accident,” she explained without any enthusiasm.

“I’m sure that this time travel thing isn’t all you can talk about,” I insisted.

Mary sighed. Her dress flickered, as it started shifting towards the sparkly white pattern. “Well, imagine, that in the distant past, Granny Smith had never found zap apples,” she said, raising a finger. “Somepony scared a hydra and it stumbled on Granny Smith and nearly ate her, so she never ventured into the forest again. The Ponyville Apples never got their big break, Ponyville never became a proper town, most of the ponies that moved in did not, and instead of you, somepony very different was born. That kind of thing happened.”

“Oh… I’m sorry,” I mumbled. I darned went and put my hoof in it. Of all ponies, I should have known it’d be something like that.

“Don’t be,” Mary smiled. “It’s not like anybody actually died in it… if the term even applies,” she added, pulling the window down and shutting some of the train noise out. “In fact, the Great War started ten years later, and a great deal less people died, because they didn’t have ballistic rockets to lob at cities across the Channel.”

She’s taking it better than I imagined. “What the hay did you even do?” I wondered.

“I found my time machine when I was a student,” Mary said, “and the first thing that popped into my head was that I really want to see Sir Charles Babbage…”

“Anyhuman I should know about?” I interrupted. “Cause I can’t chew through your entire stack of books in just one evening like Twilight. Not that she’d let me have all of them at once, she put them all down in the reference section.”

“Well, remember how Twilight goes starry-eyed when Star Swirl the Bearded comes up? That kind of person,” Mary explained.

“Ah. Say no more,” I stopped her. I know a lot more about Star Swirl the Bearded by now than it is healthy, any more and I’m gonna start telling dirty jokes about the old wizard. I don’t need a lecture about the human version.

“Yeah, I was just as insufferable back then, I imagine…” Mary snickered, looking at my scrunched up face. “So I set the time to jump seventy years back, and pop out flying over the city of Turin, and this thing,” she said, tapping a finger next to her golden eye, “starts seeing things… I barely remember what I was doing, for a while it took over my vision completely, so I had no clue what was going on at all. I know I did leave the car, but I don’t know how got back, I had to reset the time blind. It didn’t happen on the first try.”

The things Twilight said about this golden eye thing were kind of wild. Now that her dress is all lit up, and this eye is staring at me… it really is kind of like she’s looking through you and seeing your soul. Next time I see that grey mailmare, wasshername, I’m gonna give her some apples free of charge just to be nice. Only having one eye is bad enough, having an eye that sees something you don’t want has got to be worse.

“When I was back…” Mary continued, “the same king, the same prime minister, a lot of things were the same, but Charles Babbage was barely remembered, nobody even heard of Ada Byron, Gottlob Frege was just an obscure mathematician… My grandfather met my grandmother in the Crystal Palace on the Great Exhibition, in front of Mr. Babbage’s analytical engine. Since the first analytical engine was never completed, this meeting didn’t happen and my mother was never born. And neither was I.” She concluded it with a sheepish smile.

“That doesn’t make sense,” I insisted. “You’re here, I can see you. At least I think you are, with this dress it’s kinda hard to tell.” Spirits of Hearth’s Warming were supposed to be nice ponies in that story, but they are ghosts… “But I can touch you,” I said, poking her arm with a hoof. Sure enough, she was solid and soft like any living thing.

“Yes, it is a bit crazy, isn’t it,” Mary agreed with a grin. “I spent years running around, trying to figure out what changed and how to put it back. Whenever I fixed one event that went wrong, I would find another one blocking me from existing. I had to have been extraordinarily lucky to be born in the first place. Some things are just not repeatable. I kept thinking, that if I’m still here, this means that sometime, in my future, I do figure out what did I miss, it just didn’t happen to me yet. Took me a while to understand time doesn’t work like that.”

“How does it work, then?” I wondered.

“Difficult to explain, but simple, all the same,” Mary smiled. “Time actually grows both ways, and it’s not really a single line. It’s like a ball of yarn,” she said, making spinning motions with her fingers. Kind of hypnotic, when the cuffs of her sleeves sparkle so much. “Twisted and tangled, but it has two ends, which dissolve into fibers, where time doesn’t exactly exist. Every thread of history is made up out of myriads individual fibers, all different. Only here and now, everything is in one place and at one time, like threaded through a needle. One little paradox is nothing.”

“I can’t rightly imagine living like that,” I said, after spending some time trying to take it all in. “If I knew I had a chance to bring mom and dad back, I’d waste half my life trying to do it. But I still have Big Mac, and Granny Smith, and a little sister to care for, and that wouldn’t be doing right by them.”

“I got over it,” Mary shrugged. “For me, it was a long, long time ago. Once I finally stopped, and realized that I have a time machine, I was free. To go somewhere else entirely, somewhen else entirely, to remake the world in my own image. So I did.”

I’m not sure I liked the way she said that.

Author's Note

Is the dress in the picture blue and black, or white and gold? Rarity’s Originals, you can have both!

Next up, Spike, trying to actually organize a bachelor party…

Conversation 21: Spike

I don’t know a thing about bachelor parties.

Everypony agreed that I should be the one to host it, since I’m, like, Twilight’s guy representative or something, but nopony could explain what a bachelor party is and how they work. I think none of them knew for sure except Pinkie, who tried to explain, and that went about as well as you’d expect. I didn’t understand anything beyond jumping out of a cake, and that’s got to be just Pinkie being Pinkie, jumping into and out of cakes is kinda her thing.

Twilight found out that Princess Luna’s leaving the city for a patrol very soon – something really must be up, with all that security and the shield and stuff – so she ran off, leaving me alone with Mary and the bachelor party problem. I considered asking Mary. She’s good at explaining things, if you don’t fall asleep along the way. It is supposed to be a guy thing, but she’s bound to know something I could use, guys got to be guys in any world. But with that new dress, she easily succeeded in getting completely lost the moment I looked away. There might be an unarmored Royal Guard trailing her somewhere, but these guys are even better at hiding in plain sight than she is, cause they don’t tower over everypony, so I’m stuck.

Most of the time she was in school, Twilight would actually delegate anything that had to do with parties to me as much as she could. I’d make excuses why she couldn’t go, I’d pick the gifts when no excuse would work, and usually, everypony was happy and told me we did good enough.

I wonder why she never got invited to any bachelor parties. Are they so much of a guy thing that girls are not welcome? But since I don’t know, I need to ask a different question. What would Twilight do?

She’d find a book and then do everything the book said, by the numbers. But I heard what happened the last time she learned about a party from a book, that’s way too risky. What would she do if there was no book? Ask a bachelor, of course.

I’m not exactly sure what the word even means, really, cause the way they say it, it can’t just mean an unmarried stallion. But I know one guy everypony says is a bachelor, and he’s famous for it. He’s “the most eligible bachelor in Canterlot.”

Too bad I’m not talking to him anymore.

Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice behind my right ear, “Hello, Spike! Fancy meeting you here!”

I turned around and breathed out the biggest flame I could manage, hoping to singe the bastard, at least. He ducked out of the way, and it didn’t even wipe the smug smile off his face. “Oh, it’s you, Blueblood. Sorry about that, I’m having a bit of indigestion,” I smiled sweetly, showing off as many teeth as I even have. I have a lot. They’re pretty sharp and harder than diamond. Pony Joe glared at me across the counter, but didn’t say anything. “They say biting a prince helps. What are you even doing here? I thought donuts were too common for you.”

“What are you talking about?” he grinned, as if everything was perfectly normal. “They’re fit for a princess, they have to be fit for a prince, right? Pony Joe here was on the winning team for the National Dessert Competition,” he added, waving a hoof in Joe’s direction. “A cup of joe and one of your best donuts, if you please. Extra sprinkles!”

“That’s not what you said about Applejack’s food,” I hissed. Really, the nerve of this guy, what do I have to do to make him get the message, bite his leg?!

“I really must apologize for that when a chance presents itself,” Blueblood commented, climbing up onto the bar stool next to me and leisurely catching his coffee that Joe slid towards him from the other end of the bar. “That mare, misguided as she was, makes an excellent apple fritter.”

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t just bite your horn off for what you did to Rarity,” I growled. It was… I don’t know what it was.

I always knew Blueblood was kind of a jerk and a snob. Hardly anypony expects a prince not to be, and nopony actually hated him for it. At worst, he was annoying. At best, he somehow managed to make it all look excusable and even charming. Like, here I am, I’m a prince, you’re all common ponies, and you’re all so fascinating… Really, that’s something he said once. I don’t know every detail, because Rarity refused to ever speak of it, but word gets around, and what he did to Rarity is really beyond words. Or beyond what I thought I knew about him.

“That mare deserved every bit of it, for what she has done to you,” Blueblood smiled at me and took a sip of his coffee while watching my face.

I bet my face was especially indescribable at this point.

“It would only be proper if you detest me for it, but while it saddens me, the solidarity of males of all species is worth it,” he continued. “‘Bros before horses,’ as a more common pony would say, and I couldn’t put it any more succinctly.”

I choked for words. Then I tried to pretend I can’t speak by biting into a donut, but Blueblood just smiled wider and bit his own donut, which kinda shot this idea down. I washed the donut down with a sip of my cocoa, which he also matched. “Explain,” I finally spat out, slamming my cup on the counter.

“Well, look at it from my perspective,” Blueblood started, waving his donut in the air. “Here I have a promising youth of good family, of rare and noble species, smitten head over heels with a small town modiste, who, beyond beauty and taste, really has no virtue to her name, or at least, no virtue he can describe.”

“So I’m not very good with words—” I started. I’m kinda not supposed to blub about how she saved Equestria a couple of times or that she’s the Element of Generosity, so what could I tell him?! That’s not why I like Rarity, anyway!

“Don’t interrupt, Spike,” Blueblood pressed, “You wanted me to explain, so let me finish, you can bite my horn off later. Now, that modiste, being perfectly aware of his affection—” He must have noticed my expression, because he made a pause, “Yes, perfectly aware, you asked me for the advice and not your stepbrother, because you know I know these things, so trust me on this—”

Well, gotta give him that, I did ask him. When it comes to girls, Shining Armor is the first to admit he’s a card-carrying dork. How’d he manage to hitch a princess is still beyond me, and I bet that her being Twilight’s favorite foalsitter had something to do with it.

“—Neither accepts it nor rejects it straight like a proper lady should, and in fact, never even acknowledges it exists. Instead, she exploits it every chance she gets, makes him do every demeaning chore she can find, and to add injury to insult, uses him for a pin cushion,” Blueblood concluded, slamming his own cup onto the counter and earning another stare from Pony Joe, which he ignored.

“It takes more than a needle to get through my scales,” I insisted.

“I’m not done!” Blueblood exclaimed. “Then, this youth confides in me, that this lady has secured an invitation to the most important high society event of the year, with no other purpose but to solicit my attention.” The way he said it would crack me up if I didn’t understand he really is serious. “In the preposterous assumption that I will be so smitten by her beauty alone, that she will marry me and become a princess before the year’s out. And the favor that this youth seeks of me is just to show her a good time.”

It does kind of sound weird when he puts it that way… But I just wanted Rarity to be happy.

“Well, I’ll have you know, Spike, I meet mares like that every day. Usually, it’s not a big deal,” Blueblood grinned. I didn’t think anypony but Rainbow Dash and Pinkie could make faces quite like that. Not a princely face. Bit of a scary face. “But those that also treat my friends like dirt, these get shown the best time I can possibly manage, a time they will not soon forget! I must give her credit, she was stubborn as a mule and my reputation certainly suffered, but I still say it was worth it!”

I didn’t know what to say to that, and for a while we sat there in silence. I can’t just forgive him, he won’t even apologize, but I can’t say I don’t see his point, either. I feel he’s wrong, but I can’t prove it! Argh! Why do adults have to make everything so complicated?!

“Why do you even care?” I finally asked. “I might not be old enough to understand the whole thing, sure, let’s go with that. But I know, I’m not that much of your friend. Everypony is a commoner to you. Except a prince or a princess. You know what I mean.”

Blueblood swished the coffee in his cup thoughtfully. “Did anypony ever tell you where your egg came from?”

“What do you mean, where?” I asked. “Twilight hatched me during the school entrance exam, everypony knows that!” I mean, that’s the first question that they ask when they wonder what’s a dragon doing here. I think I had to tell the story to half the city by now.

“No, that’s where you came from,” Blueblood corrected. “The eggs are usually laid, I’m told. If Twilight Sparkle laid your egg as well, that would be a feat famous through the ages.”

“All I know, it was a test,” I shrugged.

“It was a trick test,” Blueblood said. “The idea was to see if the applicant is able to correctly gauge how much magic will it take to hatch it, and admit that they aren’t able to do it,” he added, a smug grin sliding across his face. “Beginners stand no chance. Even master wizards couldn’t hatch it.”

“Wow.” I knew Twilight is the strongest unicorn since forever, that’s not news. But I didn’t know that when she hatched me, it was supposed to be impossible.

“Indeed,” Blueblood agreed, “and here’s a thing. You’re the only dragon in Canterlot. Very few dragons even live within the borders of Equestria, and nopony knows much of anything about the dragon society. Certainly not enough to acquire an egg for a trick test in a magic school. Which is why, since you were hatched, they don’t have that test anymore.”

“Quit beating around the bush and spit it out,” I insisted. “You think you know something!”

“There’s a legend…” Blueblood agreed, “that a long time ago, when Equestria was still young and the ink on the Accords was barely dry, even before Discord, in the time of fairytales, there was a war with dragons. One, you can imagine, Celestia won.”

“Like the first Griffon War and the wars with the Diamond Dogs, sure,” I nodded.

“The legend further says, that Celestia did arrange a lasting peace, that no Dragon Lord dared to break ever since,” Blueblood continued. “As was the dragon custom, they exchanged hostages. A scion of a royal house was to be given over to the dragons, to live among them as one of their own, just as a dragon of high birth was to live in Equestria as one of our own. But they didn’t have a prince to give. Instead, they gave an unhatched egg, which, to them, was the same.”

That was a lot to take in. “And you think that was… my egg?” I wondered. Dragon Prince Spike? Has a nice ring to it…

“I’m willing to give you the benefit of a doubt,” Blueblood grinned. “There aren’t a lot of princes left in Equestria. I’d rather be friends with the ones that still remain.”

“How’d you even know that?” I asked. “I’m sure there isn’t anything like that in Twilight’s history books.” While she was looking for the origins of the sandwich, she chewed through everything we had at least three times, and anything that concerns dragons kinda does stick around in your head.

“It’s a family legend,” Blueblood explained. “They say that the scion of the royal house given to the dragons was my ancestor. Eventually, the dragons gave him back, but the egg remained in Equestria. I’m not even sure if it’s true, but why not.” He chomped down the rest of his donut and addressed Pony Joe, “Could I trouble you for another donut, my good man?”

…Damn that Blueblood. He somehow always manages to make you sorry you were angry with him. Even while you’re still angry with him! Might as well get him to do something useful for all my suffering. “…Tell me, Blueblood, are you the most eligible bachelor in Canterlot?” I asked.

“So they say,” he admitted, licking his lips and eyeing the second donut, held in the glow of his magic.

“So you know everything about bachelor parties, right?” I prodded.

“I have attended a good number in my time. What’s this about?” he glanced at me. “Twilight Sparkle saddled you with organizing the bachelor party for your stepbrother? You need help, I presume?”

“If you’d be so kind,” I smiled.

“Well,” Blueblood started with a grin, “First, we need to secure a venue with just an appropriate amount of shadiness, and arrange for a cake…”

“…Any particular kind?” I asked, rolling out a scroll and preparing to take notes.

“The kind somepony will be jumping out of, of course.”

Huh.

Author's Note

Yes, this story fails the reverse Bechdel test with flying colors and will keep failing it for at least ten more chapters. The narrative has so many mares, that they kinda take over no matter what you do.

Special thanks to howard035 for coining certain key details of the interpretation of Prince Blueblood that I’m presenting here. You can read the full story of how this came about in this blog post and associated comments.

Fanon evolved multiple interpretation of the hatch-a-dragon-egg test, and I’m not inventing anything new here with the explanation that it was actually a Kobayashi-maru scenario – but after the “Gauntlet of Fire” aired, the question of why there’s a dragon egg in Equestria at all becomes particularly interesting. Whether Blueblood is correct with his supposition and whether the legend he cited is even true is another story, which we might get back to in the future if the plot drags us by close enough. It certainly gives Spike something to think about regardless, doesn’t it?

Next up, Luna gets a chance to explain both herself and Trixie, and it totally makes sense, I promise!

Conversation 22: Twilight Sparkle

Luna refilled her coffee mug. Again.

“…Are you sure this is safe, Princess?” I wondered. The mug was nearly as big as my head. And it seems that before it started its career in coffee, it actually was a flower vase. Now that Luna was using it to consume coffee in quantities sufficient to drown small rodents, hardly anypony would suspect, but I could tell.

It was a crazy day in a crazy week, and my head was still swimming from everything.

First, I find out that the reason the whole city is under shield is not wedding security, but some “threat,” and Shining Armor couldn’t even come visit and personally invite me to his wedding, because he has to constantly renew the spell.

Then, he tells me that “Mi Amore Cadenza” is actually Cadance’s official real name. Which would be best news ever, if she actually recognized me. Which she didn’t. I’m still not sure what to think about that.

And then he tells me, that Luna didn’t sleep for three days straight, alternating between roaming the countryside and sitting by a telescope for the entire night waiting for the supposed enemy to show up on the horizon. It got so bad, that on Celestia’s orders, Shining Armor personally disabled her alarm clock when they finally talked her into taking a short nap. Which only lasted until she noticed that everypony else is leaving the dream realms, and woke herself through sheer force of will, planning to resume her patrol “shortly.”

I figured I had to rearrange my schedule and talk to Luna before I do anything else. The girls know what to do, they’ll manage without me for a few hours, but if this keeps up, Luna might not be conscious enough to answer my questions by the time the wedding’s done. Finding Luna caffeinated to the point of visibly twitching definitely did nothing to convince me otherwise – it seemed that for her, the week has been just as crazy. In fact, just looking at her felt like a threat to my sanity.

“Tis not safe to sleep when an enemy is at the gates!” Luna insisted. “Did my sister not teach you that, Twilight Sparkle?”

“Not really,” I admitted.

Luna giggled and downed half the mug in one gigantic gulp. “I must apologize, I am most displeased with this turn of events. You are in no danger. At least, not while I am awake.”

“Too much caffeine can’t be good for anypony’s heart,” I tried again.

“Worry not of my heart, Twilight Sparkle, ’tis as strong as a thousand horses,” Luna brushed me off and took another sip.

“Is it really so bad, that you have to go without sleep?” I wondered.

“Surely you remember that day, when Cerberus abandoned his post at the gates of Tartarus for a short time?” Luna asked. “You were the one to guide him back, as I recall.”

I nodded. It wasn’t long enough ago to forget, and it was a very memorable week, full of chaos and yelling at ponies. And now that time travel gets brought up every other day, I keep looking back at it and wondering how could I be stupid enough to produce the loop in the first place.

“He left to track an escaped villain, a monstrous evil of great power. Alas, Cerberus is a guard dog, not a bloodhound,” Luna explained. I shivered. Was returning Cerberus home such a good idea? Did this evil pass through Ponyville, unseen?… But Luna ignored me and continued. “We have received word, dubious as it is, that this villain designs to attack Canterlot. Until we can ascertain that this shall not occur, the shield is to stay in place.” She bit off a piece of her moon pie and washed it down with more coffee. “And I shall resume my patrol as soon as I am appropriately awake and alert.”

“But when will you stop, Princess?!” I exclaimed.

“When I am sure the creature is back in Tartarus, or outside our borders, or dead,” Luna said sharply. “Or at least, when the festivities are over, for nothing would be more unseemly, than a monster attack interrupting a joyous occasion such as this.”

“What if we never know?” I asked.

“Protecting Equestria is my sworn duty,” Luna insisted, softly stomping her hoof. “And while my sister has acquired many additional duties during the time of my exile, I am determined to do my part, and I shall conduct this duty as I always did.”

I sighed. I had to back down. She certainly feels very strongly about it…

Luna looked me over, and I shivered under her gaze. “Is everything going well with the wedding, Twilight Sparkle?” I must look like a total mess… “Surely, you come to me seeking help, for I cannot imagine anything else would distract you.”

“Actually, I am, but it’s not about the wedding,” I admitted. I really need to get rid of at least some puzzles… “I wanted to ask you about a mare who says she is a personal student of yours. Her name is Trixie.”

“A most courteous and diligent lady of great promise,” Luna nodded. “I spent weeks scouring the dreams of unicorns, seeking one with as much drive and determination as yourself. So far, I am not disappointed in the slightest in my choice.”

What?! “…Are we talking about the same Trixie?” I wondered.

Luna hid a smile behind her coffee mug, “She was your classmate, I believe.”

I felt the hairs of my mane curl and tried to force them to stay in place with a burst of magic before she had a chance to notice. “So you really did send her to duel me for access to the castle library?”

“Yes,” Luna admitted readily, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I hope you enjoyed that. Verily, she should have provided you with a challenge appropriate for your ability. I was most particular on that.”

I didn’t think I could straighten my hair without a brush anymore. I certainly could no longer hide it, and Luna wasn’t just tense from all that coffee. “Terribly alert” really was the more appropriate term.

She put her mug down on the table and looked at me seriously. “Celestia warned me you would not take it well, but I insisted. She never could refuse me… Indeed, I owe you an explanation.”

“Yes, please,” I mumbled, curling up in my chair in the closest approximation of a fetal position that I could manage while still staying sort of dignified.

“Did you consider the consequences of solving your mystery?” Luna asked. “The one that you visited the castle library to pursue?”

“What do you mean, ‘consequences?’” I sputtered. “I would know what to do about it, if anything!” First, Mary, with her cryptic premonitions, talking like she accidentally ended the world and we still didn’t notice, now Luna…

“Just as knowledge is power, so ignorance is a resource. Vital, no matter how unpleasant,” Luna stated. “What we do not know, may still turn out in our favor. What we do know is not in our favor, never will.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. I had to wiggle them to make sure they’re still there. Sure enough, they were. “That’s like saying that what we don’t know doesn’t exist,” I stated my almost-question. Is this going to be something as embarrassing as friendship being real, again?

“It does,” Luna said, looking at me curiously. “And yet, as part of apeiron, it is not, yet, decided.”

“…Do you mean the primal unaligned matter?” I inquired. “But it’s just a mathematical fiction in Transmutation, it doesn’t actually exist, this has been conclusively debunked hundreds of years ago—” I started, and then noticed how Luna looked away. “—oh.” That was a long time after she was banished.

“No, that is not what I meant,” Luna said, after a slightly tense pause. “The idea of unaligned matter is based on the philosophical notion of the unlimited. The transformation of apeiron into other substances is the primal means of harmony.”

I had to remind myself, that Luna is the last surviving purely pre-classical magician. In her days, magic was seen as an art, rather than science. Even if I don’t understand it, there’s a system behind it, ideas based on feelings, rather than rules. I already know they aren’t any less valid than mine, Star Swirl’s legacy is a testament to that. That legacy is what classical and post-classical theories were made to explain.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” I finally admitted.

“Harmony guides things to occur the way they should, rather than just the way they can,” Luna started explaining. “In this, a miracle of harmony can transgress any law of magic, just because this is the way the world should be. The more we know, the less miracles remain in the world, for there are more laws a miracle must transgress to manifest.”

This… is a bizarre logic, completely unscientific, but it makes no less sense than Pinkie Sense, on an intuitive level. “Do miracles exist at all?” I wondered.

“Was finding your friendship anything less?” Luna smiled. “Miracles are not quite as uncommon as they might appear.”

Maybe… Maybe it was a miracle. That Sonic Rainboom in which we got our cutie marks wasn’t anything normal. A Sonic Rainboom is supposed to be impossible in the first place, and there is still considerable confusion about how it actually works, even now, when Rainbow can do it on cue. I knew friendship is magic on a whole different level, beyond anything I knew before… and that would be this level, wouldn’t it. I just got lost in the details of how to nurture it, and it distracted me from thinking of how it might affect reality.

But I still think she’s wrong. “Let’s assume you’re right. Doesn’t every discovery present new mysteries?” I countered. “I’ve just started on this one, I have yet to discover anything, and I’m already up to my ears in more mysteries!”

“That was Celestia’s argument as well,” Luna commented. “And it is true. But as you have deduced, this particular mystery lies at the root of countless phenomena. That you might expand the realm of knowledge concerns me not, and is nothing but a commendable result. But it is worrying, that this might happen too fast. When Equestria might be in need of a miracle on short notice, it is unwise to potentially impede it.”

I’m not sure I can accept this way of thinking.

I’m not sure I have to. She could order me to stop, but she didn’t. Something doesn’t add up. “…So instead of simply sending me a cease and desist decree, you choose to send your student to stop me? It’s like you’re treating it as some sort of game,” I accused.

“More like theater. Trial by harmony is a time-honored practice,” Luna assured me. Strange, it’s the first time I heard of something like that. “We are out of arguments, Celestia and I, and yet, we failed to convince each other. We cannot settle which is the right thing to do by argument alone. So we pass the question on to our champions, and through their friendly competition, what should happen, will happen.”

“Friendly?!” I exclaimed, sitting up. Is she serious?! Is this a dream? Did I fall asleep on the train and nopony remembered to wake me up? Did they make a mistake and wake up the wrong pony?! “Trixie hates my guts! She always did!”

Luna paused and looked deep into my eyes. “Trixie Lulamoon just wants to be your friend, Twilight Sparkle,” she said seriously. “More than anything else. She would never admit it to you, but I have seen it in her dreams.”

I choked for breath. “In what universe is it acceptable to conjure a spectral guardian to rip your ‘friend’ to pieces, along with hundreds of priceless books?!” I finally spat out.

“In her universe,” Luna countered, “the surest path to friendship is by forging it through demonstrating your best to each other in adversity. What exactly is wrong with that?”

“Like, everything?!” I insisted. “Friendship is the antithesis to enmity!”

“Friendship is many things. I met the pony who was my dearest friend this way,” Luna said without a hint of humor in her voice. “For Trixie, it is something that can only exist between ponies of matching ability. If she isn’t better than you in anything, she does not think herself deserving of your friendship.”

“That’s… crazy,” I said uncertainly. Didn’t I say that all of my friends are crazy, many times?

“Sanity is relative, Twilight Sparkle…” Luna commented. “But I apologize, I was not aware that this is a lesson you have yet to learn.”

I stopped myself just as I was about to protest again. I’m supposed to study friendship. Can I really dismiss the possibility? Who am I to say that I know everything about how friendship forms? “Not every friendship lesson has to be a result of personal experience,” I said. I want to try that “learning from other ponies’ mistakes” thing for a change.

“I am hardly wise enough in the ways of friendship to give you lectures,” Luna smiled. “If there ever will be any real theory, I have no doubt that you will be the one to write it.”

“It would certainly help me to know of your experiences,” I insisted. “Just how did this friendship start?”

“With a challenge to a duel,” Luna said. “Which, to my shame, she won, even though she could never come close to me in raw power. I have learned a great many things from Platinum. I am sure Trixie will provide you with just as much learning experience,” she smiled with thinly veiled smugness. “Consider this my contribution to the future of some of Equestria’s greatest ponies.”

I felt myself redden at the sudden compliment, but at the same time I was thinking. Platinum? Princess Platinum? The journal describes the first meeting between Luna and Platinum very differently. It says that Luna got offended at Platinum, and humiliated her until she apologized. If that’s called a duel, it’s a very unusual one, and it’s definitely not one Platinum can be said to have won… Maybe I should talk to her about it?

“I must apologize, as much as your company pleases me,” Luna said, standing up. “Duty calls. And alas, I am out of coffee.”

She certainly was.

Author's Note

According to my collected chronology of episodes, “It’s About Time” took about a week and was within a month before the “Canterlot Wedding” starts. Did you ever wonder what sort of “threat” did Chrysalis send? Certainly, it wasn’t a threat of a changeling invasion, for obvious reasons. It needed to be something that would distract from the actual invasion. Tirek fits the bill perfectly. Where is he, then? I think he hightailed it back to his home kingdom for a while…

Just for the record, the actual Journal of the Two Sisters describes the meeting with Platinum in rather unflattering tones. Platinum challenges the Sisters’ authority on the grounds of the two not having their cutie marks. Luna tries Royal Canterlot Voice on her, but Platinum persists. Luna scares her with her pet manticore, but Platinum still persists. Then Luna offers her to sit in her throne, and uses a trap that tosses Platinum out into the courtyard, whereupon Platinum finally apologizes.

Next up: The wedding blows up into everypony’s faces in gruesome slow motion, and it looks like it was an accident…

…well, it wasn’t.

Conversation 23: Fluttershy

Twilight looked like a ghost. The vengeful kind. Mane hairs sticking out in all directions, eyes glazed over and staring nowhere, wobbly step. Even the glass with her drink was faintly trembling in her magic. “Bet I can guess what you’re all thinking,” she declared grimly. “Cadance is the absolute worst bride-to-be ever!”

Once the glass was just above the table, she let it drop, and I jumped at the sound. Rarity frowned at her, and lit up her horn to adjust Twilight’s hair. “Twilight, whatever are you talking about? Cadance is an absolute gem!”

I was hoping against hope to finally relax. But the only way I could possibly relax would be to fly immediately back home, barricade the doors and windows, hide under my bed, and never, ever, never ever come out again. It was a busy day. It was a horribly busy day. It was a horrible, terrifying, blood-curdling, blindingly scary day, and I don’t know how I got through it. I’m not sure I even did. I might have been eaten in the morning, and dreaming somewhere in the Elysian fields and I’d never know, it was so scary. I don’t know how I didn’t scream at everypony all the time, how did I manage to avoid jumping at every little shadow, it was all one giant, opaque blur.

We were sitting outside that café Twilight picked for our meeting place, and the early night sky seen through the shield was an ominous, dark purple. That couple passing by? They might be changelings. The royal guard at the intersection? He might be one, too. I thought I got used to the idea over the past week, but all that really happened was losing a few pounds. You can’t get used to this. I just hope nopony noticed. Because that would be as bad as telling them. I’m horrible at lying. I’m horrible at lying to anypony, let alone my friends.

I’m horrible…

“Rarity, she was so demanding!” Twilight insisted.

“Well, of course she is!” Rarity retorted. “Why shouldn’t she expect the very best on her wedding day?”

“Well, maybe!” Twilight mocked her. “Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m just going crazy!” She looked away with a sigh. “Maybe I really did go crazy, and right now I’m actually in a padded room somewhere and I’m just imagining all that. I just hoped I’d find something normal around here. She didn’t even recognize me. After Princess Luna’s lecture on the value of ignorance, this is especially ironic.”

“Ah don’t see why she should’ve recognized ye,” Applejack commented. “Y’all are under a lot of stress. Ya didn’t see her in years, no wonder. Ahm sure I won’t recognize some of mah cousins at tha next reunion either. Ah mean, there had to have been other fillies, right?”

“There were, I suppose,” Twilight agreed. “But I’m sure she didn’t grill any other fillies for every scrap of information on their brothers the moment they were left alone.”

“Really, she did?” Rarity inquired. “Ah, darling, that’s as romantic as it gets! How could she possibly be a bad bride after that?!”

“By doing the same to other fillies, for example,” Twilight brushed her off. “You’re missing the point, Rarity. I remember that evening very well. If my brother really is important to her, she should, too.”

“You didn’t remember her name,” Pinkie pointed out.

“Because she never used that one!” Twilight exclaimed, slamming a hoof hard into the table. “It’s like there are two ponies – Cadance, one of the most amazing ponies I ever knew, and Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, and the only thing they have in common is that they’re both pink!”

A chill ran down my spine. Then another one.

Changelings replace ponies. Of course the first pony they would want to replace would be Princess Cadance. That’s the only way to get Twilight to murder Cadance that I can imagine, when she knows there’s two of them, and makes a mistake deciding which one is real… If I didn’t listen to that conversation, if I didn’t spy on the humans, the thought of changelings would have never occurred to me.

Poor Twilight, I can’t even tell her. I can’t tell her that her brother is marrying a disguised monster.

Suddenly, I felt a wing wrap around me. “Fluttershy. Stop,” Rainbow Dash said.

“…stop what?” I whispered, as I felt the eyes of my friends converge on me.

“Whatever it is that you’re thinking about,” Rainbow said. “You’ve been moping around for the entire week. I know there’s something wrong. We all know. I know you don’t want to talk about it, cause you never do, but you can’t hide it anymore. Start talking.”

“…But everything is fine…” I mumbled.

“Ponies don’t cry in public when they’re fine, Fluttershy,” Rarity said, pulling a hanky from her purse and gently wiping my face.

Damn. I went and ruined it all, and I didn’t even notice.

Unable to hold it in anymore, I fell face first on the table and cried, and all my friends huddled around me, telling me something, hugging me, and I couldn’t even tell what they were saying anymore, as all the horror and tension of the past week came crushing down and washed me away.

At least I don’t have to be scared alone anymore.

I told them everything.

✶                ✶                ✶

When I was done, there was a long, tense silence.

“So what are we gonna do now?” Applejack asked, looking at Twilight.

The change in Twilight was amazing. Just minutes ago, she looked like she’s dead on her hooves, but now, the sparkle in her eyes was back, and while there was no sign of a smile on her, her ears were perked up in attention.

Oh sweet Celestia, I think she’s going to make a checklist.

“We need more information,” Twilight declared. “It all comes together suspiciously well, but we basically have nothing.”

“Yah said it’s like there’s two of them, just minutes ago,” Applejack commented.

“I just wanted to vent to my friends, because I’m having an especially bad day,” Twilight replied, “I didn’t expect the possibility might actually exist, and I can’t really deny I’m biased. It could be a bad case of nerves, Shining Armor didn’t notice anything. You don’t accuse a Princess of Equestria of being an impersonator without proof. A fragment of a conversation between aliens about other worlds isn’t enough.”

“Maybe we could… unmask her?” Rarity offered. “If the disguise doesn’t dispel, it’s the real Cadance.”

“There weren’t any confirmed changeling sightings since forever,” Twilight replied. “Even if anypony ever studied their transformations far enough to write a counterspell, or even a detection spell, we could spend weeks in the Archives looking for it.”

“The bridesmaids might have noticed something!” Pinkie smiled. “They’re all my friends, I’m sure I can get them to talk.”

“No,” Twilight shook her head and grinned. “Well, maybe later.” Somehow she still looked serious with that grin. “First, we’re going to ask a human. They’re both at least a little crazy, but there’s one thing I’m sure about. Neither of them ever refused to answer a question. You just need to know what to ask.”

I shivered. I’d rather not let them know I was listening. But I guess there’s no choice…

Rainbow Dash looked around. “Right, where are Mary and Spike, anyway?”

“Spike was organizing the bachelor party,” Twilight said, scanning the street. “I told him to meet us all here, he’s late. Mary should be with him…”

Rainbow flapped her wings and jumped up to hover above the table. “I’ll find them!”

“Wait!” Twilight interrupted. “I have a better idea,” she said, turning to Rarity. “What’s the average size of the sapphire grain you used for her dress?”

“One microcarat, it’s practically dust…” Rarity replied, puzzled. “What are you planning to do?”

“I’m going to cast a size-filtered wide range variant of your gem-finding spell, obviously…” Twilight said, lighting her horn up and squeezing her eyes shut in concentration. Rarity stared at Twilight wide-eyed. Her eyes still shut, Twilight called out, “Rainbow? Go find them. Mary is going to be glowing like a Hearth’s Warming tree, you can’t miss her.”

Rainbow Dash looked around and snickered.

“Ah think you don’ have to,” Applejack commented, looking at the window of the cafe and the brightly lit sitting human silhouette within. “Ya know, Rarity, sometimes you’re too good at that dress making thing. We’ve been inside just half an hour ago, and nopony even saw her.”

“Indeed, on occasion I surprise myself,” Rarity agreed.

We all rushed into the café, to find Mary in the corner, desperately hiding behind a newspaper as the glow of her dress was receding. “Sorry about that. Mary, we have to talk,” Twilight started, making a step forward from our tiny crowd. “Where’s Spike?”

Mary folded the newspaper and tossed it onto her table with a slightly annoyed scowl on her face. “I lost him at Joe’s. He ran off somewhere in the company of Prince Blueblood.”

Rarity recoiled in horror, “Blueblood!?”

“There’s a very interesting misunderstanding between you three that you might want to correct, Rarity,” Mary commented with a subtle grin.

Twilight threw a glance at Rarity, “Just not right now.” She turned back to Mary and drew a deep breath. “Right now… Right now, I need a prophecy. Mary, could you please tell me about the changeling invasion?”

Mary’s face, already kind of whitish, turned alabaster.

I ran up to her. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I heard you talking about it! I ruined everything!” I could feel the tears gathering up in my eyes again, and tried to swallow them back. I’m not sure I succeeded. When Mary reached out with her hand to me, I shut my eyes. I was so sure she would at least smack me.

I think I deserved it, too.

Instead, I felt the gentle touch of fingers petting my head, careful, as if afraid to hurt me. “Excuse me for a moment,” Mary said in a soft, calm, completely colorless voice. When I opened my eyes again, I saw Mary covering her face with her hands. The silence was getting stifling.

Twilight was the first to break it. “I understand why you didn’t mention it, of course,” she said. “You think we’re walking a very thin line here.”

Mary ignored her completely.

Twilight saw it as an invitation to continue. “Princess Celestia wonders if ponies and humans see friendship differently. You certainly seem to think so, but I’m sure that’s not really it. You just treasure it very highly, because for you, it’s hard to come by. You don’t want the friendship of ponies that you will one day leave to return home. Am I right?”

Mary still didn’t say anything or even move, like a sitting statue.

“I just want you to know that I still want your friendship, just like I offer mine freely. Friendship starts with trust, and I trust you will tell me what I really need to know, when I need to know it, because I believe you’re–”

“Shut up, Twilight, I’m calculating!” Mary hissed through her teeth. The fingers over her right, golden eye parted slightly, and I recoiled in horror. I’m not sure if it was an illusion or not, but it looked like the ragged, irregular-shaped pupil was swirling.

Twilight shut up.

“This is a very incomplete solution,” Mary said finally, peeling the hands off her face and staring at us. Just for this once, both her eyes were pointed squarely at Twilight’s face. “If the invasion exists, the real Cadance is imprisoned, under light or no guard, somewhere in the crystal caves beneath Canterlot. If you find her, you win. If you determine she’s not there, the invasion does not exist.”

“Thank you. We’ll talk about the details later,” Twilight said confidently after a brief pause. “Let’s go, girls,” she told us, as she turned around.

“Canterlot has caves?!” Rarity exclaimed.

“I know where that is,” Twilight said. “Oh, and Mary? When Spike shows up, please tell him to send a letter to Princess Celestia, telling her where we went.”

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The caves were dry as a bone, and about as inhospitable as caves go, the kind dragons are supposed to live in and keep their hoard – hard to reach, hard to navigate, lonely and dark.

“How did ya even know about this place?” Applejack wondered, tapping a rock with her hoof.

“Used to play here with Shining Armor,” Twilight said, lighting up her horn and looking around. “That’s where he got his cutie mark. Mom forbade us to ever go here again when she found out, it’s kind of unsafe…”

“Well, duh!” Pinkie said. “That’s what happens when you mine a crystal cave to exhaustion, it loses the natural ground support! You could still keep harvesting it, if they didn’t pick it clean.”

“Make that very unsafe,” Applejack said, carefully stepping away from a ledge. “And they look like they go on for miles. This ain’t gonna be easy.”

“Aw come on,” Rainbow Dash said, hovering in front of Applejack’s face and looking down on her, “How hard it can be to find one princess in a cave?”

“If she’s even here,” Applejack replied. “If we don’t find her, we still got work to do tomorrow.”

“Do you remember the Summer Sun Celebration, Applejack?” Twilight replied. “When Rainbow thought I was a spy for Nightmare Moon? You trusted me then. If you didn’t, I don’t think we’d ever be friends.”

“Point taken,” Applejack conceded.

“The problem is, if we can’t find Cadance, we need to be sure she isn’t here, so that we can rule out the invasion,” Twilight said, looking down into the chasm that Applejack just backed away from. “That’s a lot more difficult.”

I looked up at the ceiling of the chamber. In the darkness, with so little light to see by, they are a bit difficult to find, but I’m pretty sure they’re here.

“It doesn’t have to be,” I said, flying up to the ceiling of the chamber. There they are. “These nice little bats will surely tell me everything we want to know. You will, won’t you?”

The cave bat, hanging upside down from the ceiling of the chamber, rubbed his tiny beady eyes with the edges of his wings and looked at me. What a cute little thing… Stop, no time for cuddling animals, I have more important things to do. “We’re looking for our princess,” I stated. “She’s a very tall pony, with wings and a horn.” I didn’t mention she was pink, because bats only see two colors, and “pink” doesn’t mean much to them.

The bat hissed at me. It’s a very difficult language, because most of it lies outside normal hearing range, but I know well enough when bats are dissing me.

“Yes, I am very sorry for having woken you up, but this is very important for the entire Equestria!” I insisted. “There are some very evil creatures loose in Canterlot, and unless we can find our princess, we’re all in danger!”

The bat screeched. Looks like I need to be strict with him… “Yes, even you!” I exclaimed. “If we ponies go, I don’t think there will ever be enough insects for you in this old, empty cave, insects have to eat too!”

He squeaked.

“I’m sure you can’t eat a pony sized insect,” I said. Oh my, there really are changelings here, the legends say they look like insects! “Because they are those evil creatures, and now, you’re in as much danger as we are! If they figure out you saw them, they will eat you!”

I don’t actually know if they would or not. Maybe, changelings would just kill the bats to keep them quiet. But that finally got the bat talking, in hysterical screeches and squeaks and flapping of the tiny leathery wings.

“Thank you! If we save her, I promise you they will never be back again,” I said and looked down at the rest of my friends. “She’s here. They will guide us.”

I cannot possibly express how much their smiles warmed my heart. Maybe, just maybe, we will find Princess Cadance, and then, a miracle will happen. Miracles are like that.

We had to navigate almost half a mile worth of tunnels. Progress had been difficult, but with Rainbow Dash airlifting Pinkie, Applejack using her rope to rappel down and climb up when I anchored it – I always wondered why would she bring rope to Canterlot, but I don’t anymore – and Twilight teleporting with Rarity, it didn’t take us that long to come to a dead end which wasn’t actually a dead end. The bat said that they used magic to pass through the wall.

Twilight didn’t bother with such subtleties, she just told us to cover our eyes and blasted a huge hole through it, turning a huge chunk of the wall into fine powder.

The cloud of dust that resulted took some time to settle down.

“…Twilight? Is that really you, Twilight?!” Princess Cadance coughed out. She was lying on the floor of the room, and the contrast between the polished, groomed to perfection Cadance I met during the day and the disheveled, dirty, exhausted one was striking.

“Cadance?” Twilight asked, as she made a cautious step towards the princess. “Wait. Stop,” she interrupted herself. “I’m very happy to finally see you, but I must be sure,” she said, and drew a deep breath. “Sunshine, sunshine.”

Cadance came alive in seconds, faster than I could ever imagine, it was like lighting a fire. “Sunshine, sunshine!”

“Sunshine, sunshine, ladybugs awake! Clap your hooves and do a little shake!” they chorused. I never thought I would see a princess do a playground dance, let alone use a foal school oath, but there they were, hugging and jumping around like Pinkie.

“Rainbow?” Twilight called out in a confident tone. “I have a job for the fastest flier in Equestria!”

Author's Note

Why do I have so much trouble with Fluttershy’s chapters every single time? It’s much worse than I wanted it to be, especially for a tense moment like that.

Next up: Three chapters happening pretty much simultaneously, as the explosion in slow motion continues, some things are finally spelled out, and more ponies get drawn into the mess…

Conversation 24: Mary

I closed my eyes and looked out into the window, hoping to clear my mind.

To be honest, this rarely works.

The real reason I didn’t have this eye removed was that I determined that there’s no guarantee it would help. When I close both eyes, with no visual input from the real eye, the hallucination remains, and all the world I see is whatever twisted mockery the golden parasite wants to show me today. Like all hallucinations, it isn’t really supposed to make sense, it’s like a window into a subconscious mind that I’m pretty sure belongs to someone else, and I’m not sure this someone else is actually inside that golden eye in any sense.

Eyepatches do nothing. It takes at least five centimeters worth of pillow to make it shut up, and I can’t really walk around with a pillow strapped to my face, I tried. Since I can’t be certain that the effect is actually centered on the eye, rather than the skull itself, I had to forget the idea and try to live with it.

Today, it’s doing its best imitation of Van Gogh’s nocturnes, but in a myriad shades of indigo and gold, instead of the original Prussian blue, as if I somehow got under Twilight’s skin to watch the city through the hairs of her eyebrows.

It’s actually kind of pretty, in the same way a thunderstorm is pretty from a distance to a child who has never been in the middle of one.

The move I gave Twilight short-circuits her into a confrontation with Chrysalis on optimal terms, but this way, Cadance does not get her epiphany. That moment is lost, this world runs on drama even more than my revolution did. But it’s a problem I can deal with later, assuming nothing gets even more screwed than it already is. I have no idea what Cadance is like in the stories where the changeling invasion doesn’t happen but Cadance exists, but since Twilight clearly suspected there’s something wrong with her, that Cadance would have to be the proverbial two-faced royal bitch. At least, as long as Twilight doesn’t interact with that hypothetical Cadance too much tomorrow, it should be relatively smooth from then on. If this is a wild goose chase, Twilight is going to keep searching until morning, and arguing with Cadance will be the last thing on her mind.

If this iteration of Twilight is not an idiot, and so far, she seemed quite capable, then, upon finding the real Cadance, she will proceed to call in the cavalry, confront Chrysalis and force a surrender. Chrysalis has about a 50% chance of being able to engage whatever plan B she has before she is captured or dies.

Judging by what I think of her planning style, it involves something crippling, cruel, and relies on whatever troops she could sneak in before the shield came up. Something to make everypony regret they ever confronted her. It’s a safe bet, that like her little victory speech, it’s still about giving the main assault force time to take down the shield, but in the bloodiest and dirtiest manner possible.

Which neither Twilight nor the princesses will be able to prevent, and which I’m not able to prevent either. Ironically, I simply don’t have the time, even getting in to warn them would take too long. I could have asked Rika to bring my time machine, but I didn’t. Even Rika doesn’t know where it originally came from, so there’s no way I could ever replace it.

Poor Fluttershy. She was probably just standing there, trying to gather the courage to knock on my door and invite me to do something. Just being a good neighbor. Why did I even start talking about changelings?

I looked around, my eyes still closed. The barista was hiding behind his counter, peeking out at me. At least the eye said so. I’m not sure, but I think it might be Joe. Was it Pony Joe or Donut Joe? Can’t remember, but I suspect he’s keeping tabs on me. The eye just thinks he’s a small horse. The literal kind. The only things ponies have in common with horses is quadrupedal locomotion and hooves. Their coats change color, the shape of their heads is much closer to a human than a horse, and the range of motion on those limbs is pretty ridiculous, implying a completely different joint structure. They’re more different from a horse than I am from a chimpanzee. I wonder what the world looks like from their perspective. Rika is too abstract to be incarnated in any meaningful way, and yet, her constructed “body” is still very much humanoid, because she doesn’t like to be reminded…

…Wait a moment.

There was only one conversation about changelings that Fluttershy could possibly overhear. Rika’s plastic imitation is nearly blind. Instead of relying on its senses, she reads narrative streams, whenever she can. I know this story has no third person narrator, because Rika said that herself. And I know she can’t read my stream, because the hallucination produces a second narrative that she can’t separate.

There is no way in hell Rika wasn’t aware that Fluttershy was standing at the door when she asked me about the changeling invasion.

My “friend,” the eldritch abomination. The second time we met, I shot her. I emptied the entire clip. We’re still pretending this has never happened.

I opened my eyes and looked around. And then I pulled out the laspistol. Most Imperium weapons are too heavy for me, and even this one, while really small for a lasgun, was made for a much larger hand. “To Commissar Chekov from the grateful guardsmen of 373 Vostroyan Heavy Armored. The Emperor Protects.” Has to be one of Cain’s students, most commissars die from “accidental” friendly fire. The only thing Rika told me was “She wasn’t using it anymore,” but it hardly looks used at all.

Is that barista still looking at me? Good.

I placed the short, stubby barrel against my temple, turned the safety off and put my finger on the trigger.

In the very next moment, the weapon was wrenched out of my hand with force I couldn’t hope to counteract. “What the hell are you doing?!” she yelled at me.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” I replied, not bothering to contain my irritation.

About the only thing the eye always agrees with me on is what Rika looks like. My guess is that this is because she’s quite horrifying enough for it already.

“Okay, why are you doing it?!” she shouted.

“Because I’m very cross with you, and it gets your attention every bloody time!” I shouted right back. I don’t really understand why she cares, but if keeping me alive is more important to her than treating me seriously, that’s the way it’s going to be.

Rika slapped the laspistol onto the table and sat down in front of me, folding her arms on her chest. “So what did I do this time?”

“I’m pretty sure you know,” I stated. “When this mess is over, every time you want to talk, I will start the conversation with listing the ponies who died. Not because their deaths served some higher purpose, not because that made a better story, but because you were bored. Because you couldn’t keep your own promises. ‘This one is all yours,’ right. You thought I don’t want to change anything, so the moment you saw a chance to force my hand, you went for it. You probably thought it was subtle. Well, it wasn’t!”

“But I know you’re going to fix everything, and it will be beautiful,” Rika replied with a disarming smile.

That smile failed to disarm me. “So you’re up to manufacturing problems for me to solve now?!” I shouted at her. “That’s not even an experiment, you just wanted to read a story about me, didn’t you? Well, tough luck, I’m not heroine material! I’m mucking around with a world I don’t understand, and I’m pretty sure I’ve done enough to screw it up already! You would see it, if you were only a little more patient, but no, you had to have your adventure right now, consequences be damned.”

“Didn’t you just fix it?” Rika inquired with a grin. “They found Cadance, all that’s left is for them to win.”

“Plan B,” I said, poking her with a finger in accusation. Sometimes I wonder, how she maintains body temperature. Then I remember it doesn’t matter. “I don’t know what Chrysalis has for plan B. You don’t know what Chrysalis has for plan B. You could find out, but you didn’t, because it would be a spoiler!”

She just kept sitting there, with the same impenetrable grin. “You’re giving too much credit to what is, on average, a two-bit melodrama generator.”

“Pony names are easy to remember,” I threatened. “I’m sure I could memorize a thousand.”

“Okay, fine, so what do you want me to do now?” she spat out. I wonder if she knows how her hair lights up when she gets excited. She probably does. She probably even has a switch to toggle the glow somewhere, wherever she really is. Although I’m sure it’s not actually a place.

“You made this mess, I fixed what I could,” I smiled sweetly with the fakest smile I could produce. “Walk away, dress up as Mare-Do-Well, blow the city off the mountain, kill Queen Chrysalis with your bare hands, whatever, I don’t really care. This is not my story. It has never been my story. If you want to steal the show, be my guest. You wanted to test my limits, well, you found them.”

It’s a good thing I’m sitting. If I were standing, she’d see my knees shake.

Rika just sat there for a long time in tense silence, the glow of her hair slowly growing brighter, and while my working eye hurt from this staring contest, the golden one was simply blinded. It felt like at least a minute. Finally, she sighed, and vanished in a white flash without saying a single word.

I rubbed my eyes, happy that at least for a brief moment, I can’t see a bloody thing.

“Any idea what was that about?” the barista addressed somepony I couldn’t see.

“Beats me, all I know about human culture comes from comics,” Spike’s voice replied. “Their comics are good, but you’d have to take my word for it. And what are you doing here, Joe?”

So that really was him, huh.

“Substituting for a friend,” Joe replied. “He had to urgently visit his ailing grandmother.”

“But your donut shop is open!” Spike exclaimed. “I saw you there just this morning.”

“A friend is substituting for me,” was the perfectly nonchalant reply.

“…Never mind,” Spike sighed.

I looked in their direction, vision still blurry. “Hey Mary,” Spike called out. “Was that a fight with your friend or what? Where is Twilight? Where’s everypony else? I got a really swell bachelor party coming up tomorrow.”

“Twilight is somewhere in the crystal caves beneath the city, I presume,” I replied, picking the pistol off the table and clicking the safety back on.

“Uh… why?” Spike wondered. “Did something happen?”

“Not yet,” I said, standing up, and smiled at the barista. “Sorry you had to see that, Joe.”

“No harm done,” Joe replied. “Not the first lover’s quarrel I see, but your mention of dead ponies has me worried.”

“We should still have about half an hour,” I sighed, ignoring his quip.

“…What exactly happens in half an hour?” Joe asked, raising his eyebrows, ears perking up in attention.

“I have no idea,” I told him. “At least, not a clear one. But my recommendation is to keep your head down, keep your friends close, and–”

I broke off in mid-sentence as I heard the sound of breaking glass from outside. I never thought breaking glass could ever be so incredibly loud.

Outside, the shield was crumbling, revealing the beautiful blue of the starry sky. Even the sky here is different. The constellations are the same, but you could never see this kind of color anywhere on Earth.

And then, came the screams and the sound of galloping hooves.

“…Make that five to ten minutes,” I said, clicking the safety on the pistol off again. “If this place has a storage room, hide in it, barricade the door. Don’t open until morning. Not for anypony, not even your mother!”

“Now would be the perfect time to tell us what exactly is going on,” Joe declared, not moving from his spot behind the bar. He’s surprisingly calm about it… The sounds coming from outside were growing closer, leaving less and less room for alternative explanations. Not that I actually had any.

“Changeling invasion,” I replied, walking up to the window and looking outside. Barely visible against the sky, thousands of black silhouettes were descending on the city. “I didn’t think she could take the shield down so quickly, but looks like she did, say hello to the hypothetical Plan B. Spike?”

“What, you’re going to tell me to hide, too?” Spike huffed.

“Technically, Twilight asked me to tell you to send a letter to the Princess,” I replied. “But it’s something you should not do right now, for two reasons. One, it’s a safe bet that Princess Celestia already knows where Twilight went, and two, she’s got to be very busy at this very moment. Instead, I’m going to ask for your help.”

“What do you need?” he grinned, showing off teeth. Dragons have some really respectable teeth.

“I need a strong, brave dragon to guide me to wherever Shining Armor should be right now,” I said, taking aim at the window. “That’s where we will find Twilight and everypony else.”

Once again I regretted that I’m right-handed. It’s very difficult to aim while holding the gun in your right hand, when you have to look through the sights with your left eye. The golden eye is never really consistent about object positions.

A changeling’s disgusting insectoid head popped up in the window, blue faceted eyes and sharp, white fangs in a pool of twisted chitin. As the glass burst, I pulled the trigger.

If I have a literal Chekov’s lasgun, the earlier I use it, the better.

Conversation 25: Rainbow Dash

I don’t think I ever flew a solid obstacle course so fast. I don’t think they make obstacle courses out of crystal anywhere, either, which is a shame, this deserved some spectators. And spot lighting. There’s Ghastly Gorge, of course, and it has those quarray eels, so it’s harder, but I think if there ever was a Canterlot Crystal Caves record, I definitely beat it.

And if there wasn’t, I set the first one pretty high up, so go me!

Twilight’s plan was very simple and straightforward. Fly directly towards Princess Luna’s tower, she’s going to be there by the telescope. If anypony tries to stop me, tell them that what I have to say is for princesses’ ears only, or just punch them in the face. Bring everything and everypony to Shining Armor’s house, while Twilight is getting Cadance out of the cave. The group that arrives first stalls for time.

Then we smoke the bug with everything we’ve got.

Twilight wants to start with demanding her surrender. I’m not so sure.

When I approached Luna’s tower, two Royal Guard pegasi took flight to intercept me. The first one up was a rookie, I could tell by the orange coat color. What’s a rookie doing in Princess Luna’s personal detail? Or did the Royal Guard finally get rid of the regulation dye job? Shining Armor doesn’t sound like the commander who would insist on this sort of thing, but he’s just the right color already.

Well, rookie or no, the orange one got a full speed punch to the face as I barked, “National emergency!” just like Twilight taught me. If he were a unicorn, that would be a skull fracture, but since he wasn’t, he just ended up being thrown down to the ground, unconscious. I’m not sure where he dropped, but I think he’ll be alright.

The second one wasn’t quite so easy, on account of not being an idiot like the orange one. Instead of just hovering in my way, he built up some speed and tried to tackle me from the side. Unfortunately, he wasn’t aware he’s dealing with the fastest flier in Equestria. I could still go faster, which I did – darting just out of reach, right at the moment he would collide with me. He missed, but I’ve got to give him credit, he did manage to grab my tail with his teeth.

That only seems like a good idea. Actually, it seriously distorts the flight envelope, so it brought me sharply under my glide stall speed for low altitudes, but didn’t negate the passive lift. That is, it sent us spinning like two hamsters in a wheel, while still flying in the general direction of the tower at high speed, he didn’t even throw me off course. And guess which one of us two trained for the Wonderbolts since early childhood – me, or that burly guy who joined the Princesses’ mostly earth-bound security force, instead? Yep!

I even managed to time it so that when he finally unclenched his teeth, he was unceremoniously dumped onto the platform next to Princess Luna, his armor clanging on the stone. Not getting up for a while, I think. I was seriously hoping she’d notice how cool that was.

But Princess Luna just kept sitting there, eye pressed into the eyepiece of her telescope. She was actually leaning into the thing. “Princess Luna?” I called out. “I need to tell you something really important!”

She didn’t reply. I hovered in front of her telescope and stuck my tongue out. Th-p-p-p-b-t.

Luna remained there motionless, and I perked my ears up. She was very quietly snoring. Oh for the love of… your sister! “Princess Luna!” I said, louder, shaking her by the shoulder.

Then I shook her harder.

Then, for a moment, I actually blacked out.

Good thing I’m much sturdier than I look. This is not the first time I faceplant through a wall, and usually, it happens at much higher speeds, but when an alicorn princess bucks you straight into the head, the acceleration profile is slightly different.

“…Tis thou, young Rainbow Dash?” Luna’s worried voice said. “Forsooth, I humbly beseech thee to forgive this attack of mine, for I was not aware it was thou. Woe is me, for I was asleep at my post!”

Got to thank Dad once again for this awesome mane color. You can’t mistake me for pretty much anypony else, even at night, it’s very rare to have six colors in your hair at once.

“Never mind that, Princess, we have a situation!” I said when I finally pulled my face out of the crack between the stones. Luna perked her ears up. “We have infi… infil… we have a changeling invasion, here, in Canterlot, under the shield!” I explained, hovering in front of her. “They replaced Princess Cadance! We found the real one, Twilight needs your help and the Elements of Harmony!”

Luna’s transformation from sleepy and exhausted to full warrior princess mode started even before I finished the phrase, like somepony turned a switch. And it wasn’t just the sort of thing I saw during the last Nightmare Night, when I knew she was just very annoyed. This time, she was really out to kill somepony very dead – glowing eyes, bared teeth, mane poofing up to ridiculous degrees and flowing in the nonexistent breeze, everything. “So they played us for FOOLS!” she exclaimed.

“Not so loud, Princess, they might be listening!” I interrupted her as she took a breath to yell something else. Twilight was very serious about keeping the plan quiet.

Luna breathed out and deflated slightly, but remained alert and very obviously angry.

An orange pegasus in badly dented armor rose above the railing of the platform. Gee, he can still fly? That guy has a bright future. “Your Highness, this–”

“Shut up and follow me, private!” Luna spat back, unfurling her wings. “You too, Rainbow Dash,” she added. “We must make haste to my sister’s chambers. Tell me the details on the way.”

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“I’d say ‘I told you so,’ but now is not the time,” Princess Celestia mumbled.

“On the contrary, I have told you so, and now is exactly the time!” Princess Luna countered, folding her wings as we landed next to the door to the hall leading to the Elements vault. “If I did not take this threat seriously, our predicament would be much worse.”

“And the army wouldn’t be out chasing shadows in the hills!” Celestia retorted, pushing the doors open. Sheesh, they’re just like little fillies.

The only notable feature of the hall was another set of doors on the opposite end, and Celestia immediately galloped towards them, tailed by her sister. “After the Discord incident, the security on the Elements vault is something crazy,” the orange pegasus guard commented, shutting the doors behind us. I think I’m going to think of him as “Orange” for now, this is going to be a mouthful when I have to tell the story to anypony. Asking for his name after I punched him out feels kinda awkward.

“Tell me straight, just how much time are we gonna waste,” I asked.

“Not too much, but… You’ll see,” Orange grinned.

“Ready?” Celestia called out to Luna, taking position to the right side of the door.

“Ready,” Luna replied, taking position to the left. “And I must say this whole setup is patently ridiculous.”

“Says the princess who designed an entire castle around the network of secret passages, traps and hidden rooms!” Celestia snapped back. “On three. One… two… three!”

The sisters craned their necks to slide their horns into two matching keyholes and turned them.

Nothing happened.

“We have to turn them simultaneously, too. In opposite directions,” Celestia commented, throwing a glare across the door at Luna, only to be met with another glare. “One… two… three!”

It was like something from a spy movie. The first set of double doors opened, only to reveal another one. This second set opened too, but instead of sideways, they slid up and down. The third set was some kind of iris, fading segment by segment into the walls.

All the time while the doors were opening, the princesses had to stand there with their necks twisted, staring at each other, and that looked so uncomfortable, that I could not help but cringe. “Told you,” Orange whispered into my ear. I didn’t see any more doors, I was busy facehoofing, but by the sound of it, there were at least two more sets.

“Take the chest, Rainbow Dash!” Princess Celestia shouted at me, her horn still in the keyhole. What, will the doors close when she takes the horn out? That’s really pushing it.

I didn’t keep her waiting, and was in and out of the vault in moments. As I tossed the lid open, one of the necklaces – the one with my lightning bolt on it – lit up and snapped onto my neck, asking for no invitation. I quickly collected the rest of them and Twilight’s crown into my hooves.

“Make haste!” Princess Luna exclaimed, pulling her horn out of the keyhole, which immediately sent all the crazy doors locking again. “We shall follow you momentarily.”

“I won’t let you down, your highnesses!” I saluted. “I won’t let my friends down!”

Now I just needed to be fast again as I made my way towards Shining Armor’s house. Piece of cake.

I’d never, ever, admit it to anypony, but changelings creep me out like you wouldn’t believe. I remember the story of the Fall of Timbucktu. How, in the middle of the battle for the city, King Orion’s Captain of the Guard ordered a retreat, and doomed the defenders – because he fell to the changelings early in the fight and was replaced. It’s bad enough to be that captain, but as I imagine what it must have felt like for his guardsponies…

How do you feel, when you betray your friends, and never even know what you did, until it’s too late? How do you feel, when you don’t even know if they’re your friends or not?

I don’t want to know that. I hope I will never know that. This will never happen to me, because I said so, and that’s final.

“One set of Elements of Harmony, coming up!” I shouted as I flew through the door of Shining Armor’s house, tossing the necklaces and the crown into the air. As the magic in them took hold, they glided gently to my friends.

Damn, we look awesome!

“Excellent, Rainbow, I knew I could count on you!” Twilight called out to me. She turned back to the center of the hall. “Surrender, Chrysalis! You won’t get another chance.”

The changeling leader was in her true form, and that form was hideous. Black, insect-like carapace, that looked like somepony shot her a few times with grapeshot, and then it grew over the scars, leaving oddly shaped holes straight through all of her legs, horn, and dragonfly wings. Piercing eyes, luminous green mane, and the smug Nightmare Moon smile. With real predatory canines. Or is it vampiric? Not sure. Don’t care.

Chrysalis’ smile only grew more smug. “Queen Chrysalis,” she insisted.

“Whatever,” Applejack tossed at her. “Give it up, we still got work to do tomorrow.”

“Shining Armor?” Princess Cadance asked in a small voice. There was no reply. Shining Armor stood right next to Chrysalis, and his face was so blank, that I really wanted to get a crayon just to draw some life on it. So that’s why he never noticed anything, the wicked insect has a spell on him!

Chrysalis laughed with that loud, deep laugh that you only hear in movies. Did she actually practice it for the occasion? Sheesh. “Ah, but the little Twilight Sparkle isn’t going to do it!”

“Oh really?” I yelled, and was met with a stare of those green eyes. Br-r-r. No, you don’t scare me. Creep me out, sure. Scare, no.

“Just ask her!” she exclaimed, and looked at Twilight. “Come on. Tell them. I’m wai-ti-i-i-ing…”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Twilight bite her lip.

“Well, never mind,” Chrysalis grinned wider. “I shall tell them myself. Your little friend, here, believes that I am a creature of dark magic.”

Twilight turned her face away.

“Not corrupted by dark magic, like your Night Princess, not of chaos magic, like Discord. Animated by dark magic. There is a real chance, that using the Elements on me would leave nothing but a dead body, isn’t it. And that would be murder.” Chrysalis said, leaning towards Twilight, almost bumping into her face. “And your little friend has no stomach for murder. You can’t do it, can you? You don’t think you have enough control to just banish me to the Moon, do you?”

Twilight did not answer.

Chrysalis glanced across the room at each of us with a triumphant smile. “The same goes for all of you, I take it.”

Twilight snapped back to stare into Chrysalis’ eyes. “I will if I have to, and so will all of my friends!” she said firmly. Damn right! “But I don’t think I need to.”

As if on cue, the Sisters picked this moment to slam the door open and enter, trailed by a platoon of guards. “I am sure my best student is not quite so easy to corrupt,” Celestia declared. “Surrender, Chrysalis. You are out of options.”

Luna, her eyes all glowy again, concurred. “THOU ART SURROUNDED, FOUL CREATURE. ACCEPT OUR MERCY, OR DIE HERE AND NOW.” A flash of lightning somewhere outside the shield lit us all up with purple light and punctuated her little speech.

Chrysalis laughed. It was a long, drawn out, deep, almost hysterical laughter. I’m pretty sure even the movies wouldn’t let you laugh like that. “So this is how it’s going to be. Remember, ponies, you brought this on yourselves!” she exclaimed, “You shall regret cornering me like that for the rest of your pathetic lives! Canterlot will remember me FOREVER!”

I’m not sure just where the sword came from. I think it was one of those swords hanging on the walls, Shining Armor had a lot. But I’m not sure.

All I am sure of, is that for that brief moment before he fell, I suddenly saw that sword sticking out of Shining Armor’s back, with the point protruding from the front of his chest, right through the red of his dress uniform tunic.

And then the shield somewhere up in the sky above our heads shattered, drowning everything in the loud noise of breaking glass. I’m sure I didn’t hear anything else, at least, because that was the moment when Princess Cadance screamed, and I couldn’t even hear the shield cracking anymore.

I never imagined screaming could be so deafening, but it wasn’t just deafening, there was more magic in it than she could contain. It blew all the windows out and shattered the streetlights outside. I think every piece of glass in the house instantly became dust. It even brought down the chandelier, which narrowly missed Twilight’s muzzle, as she just stood there, dumbstruck. Chrysalis tried to say something else, which would have remained unheard even if she could say it, but a whole volley of magical beams turned the spot where she just stood into a flaming hole in the floor.

Too late. Chrysalis darted towards the fireplace, quick like a snake, and in a flash of green magic, disappeared somewhere up the chimney.

I did everything right.

Everypony did their best.

Twilight’s plan was perfect.

SO WHY IN HADES DOES IT END LIKE *THAT?!*

Author's Note

End like that? We still have two chapters to go before this story arc actually ends. A lot can happen in two chapters.

And I still maintain this is not a tragedy.

Stay tuned next week, same time, same channel, for Rika’s answer to the morning after, more silly narrative trickery, and the ceremonial firing of yet another Chekhov’s gun.

Conversation 26: Lyra Heartstrings

I’m not built for running. I’ve had a lot of practice this year, I even joined the Running of the Leaves just for fun. I’m a bit stockier than your average unicorn to begin with. But there’s no way I’m going to last the entire night.

Not with five of those insectoid things chasing me. They could have caught up minutes ago. I think they’re deliberately letting me get away at the last moment, keeping me on that threshold where the heart is just about to jump out of my chest.

Who is this monster, this murdering beast?

On every intersection, I called out, “Bon-Bon! Where are you, Bon-Bon!”

There were no answers. Just screaming. Hissing. Sounds of fighting. Sounds of hooves on pavement. Sounds of broken glass. Destroyed streetlights in my path, glittering in the pale moonlight. Two guards stuck to the pavement with sickly green goo, monsters dancing around them. Sorry, gentlecolts, I can’t help you.

Sounds of doors being broken down.

If Bon-Bon had any sense, she’d be holed up in our hotel room, but that was where I checked first. She wasn’t at the café where we were supposed to meet, either. It was supposed to be an evening just for us, the only one I could sneak into the tight wedding schedule.

There are thousands of these things.

Moonlight, turn your face to the moonlight…

Celestia damn it, if I absolutely have to think in scraps of poetry tonight, could I at least use the scarce energy I have to think of something new?!

I trust that daylight will come back,
When blizzards end and storms decay,
But if the Sun should ever stop,
My heart will burn to light your way.

Much better. Needs work. Good enough to last me to the next intersection.

Harness department store. Bon-Bon always said it’s too expensive for her. It should be closed right now, anyway. I galloped past the front doors without hesitation. And as I did, I felt something pull on my tail.(1)

I turned around just in time to see Bon-Bon exit the department store’s large double doors. Or rather, knock the door out, tearing the hinges off the ancient oak with a mighty buck, which sent it like a cannonball straight through the gang of changelings that were chasing me. One of them couldn’t dodge and the door slammed into the display of the shop clear across the street, carrying the monster with it all the way. “Swords & Saucers.”

I winced.

Bon-Bon herself came next, a whirlwhind of hooves. I would never call her meek, if anything, she’s the brash one. But even knowing that, I could never even imagine the raw ferocity with which she smashed two more changelings into and through the pavement, one after another.

I could never hope to be the one who saves Bon-Bon. I’d have better luck trying to save a woodchipper from a tree.

The fourth changeling tried to bite her, but one more kick sent him back to where Bon-Bon came from, at a speed that would get even a pegasus a life-threatening injury. The grand foyer in Harness is mostly empty, except for that huge crystal fountain in the middle, and judging by the sound of broken glass, that’s exactly where the changeling ended up.

The whole thing took barely five seconds, and I just stood there, mouth agape, as I watched Bon-Bon pound the last remaining changeling into the stones of the sidewalk, mumbling something under her breath. “…Celestia damn it.” Punch. “Can’t even resign like normal ponies do.” Smash. “Can’t even have a date like normal ponies do!” Crunch.

“Bon-Bon,” I whispered, “…I think this one is already dead.”

Bon-Bon looked up at me. “…Lyra?” The change in her face was instant, and the face I saw was full of horror.

I was about to ask her something, but my tail was unceremoniously yanked once again.(2)

“…That’s not what it looks like,” Bon-Bon mumbled out.

But I didn’t say anything. I was talking to the crystal on my neck.

Thousands upon thousands of heartsongs, plunder of a myriad worlds. Some were even familiar. Most were in languages I couldn’t even imagine, weird and alien. Some in a strange mix of Equish with… something else. Multiple something elses. Melodies in instruments never touched by pony hooves. Songs of passion, of pain, of rage and hope. Screams.

Power overwhelming. That’s… That’s borderline Dark Magic, that’s what it is! I poked through the collection. This one… this is the one I need today.

Finally, I returned my attention to Bon-Bon, who was still standing there guiltily next to the carcass of a monster. “Who cares what it is, or what it looks like,” I said, smiling and trotting up to nuzzle her cheek. “As long as I’m still me and you’re still you, nothing else matters,” I whispered into her ear.

And then, I broke off and made a step back. I don’t know whatever language this song is in, beyond the scattered Equish words, but I know what it is about.

I know what it is for, and I will make it mine.

This disaster will be over soon
I swear by the light of the Sun and the Moon
There are things that are forever true
I will sing of them for you

The opening intro. The music of harmony filled the air even before I finished, and I felt it sweeping up me, Bon-Bon, and at least fifteen ponies on the next street over as it kept spreading, unstoppable. It will be the biggest musical number in living memory.

The transformation command. I’m not sure how long it actually took. It couldn’t be more than a few beats, but it felt much longer, molten lead pouring into your bones makes you lose track of time entirely. For all I know, the lead might not have been a metaphor, the crystal was casting hundreds of individual spells per second, all of them from strange and alien schools, sucking in thaums brought in across the harmony field and matter from beneath my hooves. Barely a third of the spells even worked, but casting that fast, it could try everything at once. I never expected anything could possibly hurt so much.

I probably screamed, but I never heard any of it. I just felt myself rearing up and staying upright, as my body changed into this incongruous, inpony shape, and parts of it were encased in armor, which felt like metal but was lighter than plastic.

At least I get to keep my mane color. Even my horn. I looked down on Bon-Bon, who was staring at me, shocked and dumbfounded. So that’s why Princess Celestia always says “my little ponies…”

Fingers. Twisted, horrible little things. I never asked for this. I just hope the crystal knows how to put me back together later. Nothing should ever have this many joints. Thin, near invisible strands of wire connected to the tips, floating in the air, glittering with magic. One of them is red. Why is it red?…

I waved a hand in the air, and one of the surviving streetlights fell into small, perfectly cut pieces as I grinned. These facial muscles look nothing like me, but they’re still mine.

My name is Lyra.

And these are my heartstrings!

(1) I skidded to a halt, scraping my hooves on the pavement, as my stomach turned. Not because I stopped so abruptly, but because the world twisted inside out under me. Because my brain was insisting I’m running into a wall which I knew wasn’t there, couldn’t be there, shouldn’t be there, and that wall was the world itself.

It was suddenly incredibly quiet. Not even a library ever gets this quiet, not even with earplugs, because then you can hear yourself breathe through your bones. Even the air was absolutely, deathly still. Beneath my hooves was not pavement, but sheer darkness, and in front of me, was a photo of Canterlot, stretching left and right and up as far as the eye could see, the same night in moonlight, distorted by perspective.

I turned my head experimentally. The photo was trying to follow it, lagging behind, like I’m turning an imaginary camera with fisheye lens, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see the image recede into a jumbled, vertigo-inducing mess of lines in infinity.

At least I seem to have lost the monsters that were chasing me. But it sure feels like I’m not in Canterlot, anymore.

“No, you’re still in Canterlot,” a voice said behind my back.

I turned my head around, slowly, not sure what I expected to see. Another monster? Something tall, black, on two legs, with its hair flaming like a candle, a glowing spot of color across the painted night. No, it’s not poetic license, it is actually burning!

“I promise I’m not going to eat you,” the monster commented. “If anyone’s going to eat you at all, that will be yourself.”

Just the sort of thing a fairytale monster says right before they open their mouth wide and gobble you up.

“Lyra, is that a fetish of some kind?” the monster said with a hint of annoyance in her voice. “Do you want to be gobbled up? Really, truly?”

I struggled to understand. What is happening to me? Where am I?

“Lyra Heartstrings?” the monster tried again. “Incidental Unicorn #2?”

I breathed out, as my brain finally adjusted. It’s just one of the humans. The scary one. The red and black one. Was that telepathy? I thought humans didn’t have magic at all, let alone something that advanced…

“You can’t blame me for reading what you narrate,” Rika tossed at me, like this explained everything, and looked at the still wall that Canterlot was wallpapered onto. Behind her, I could see the five monsters that were chasing me, frozen in mid-jump. If anything, it’s that moment that made it impossible for me to ever see them as people… All five were absolutely identical, down to every single scar and blemish on their chitinous bodies. The faceless soldiers of an evil overlord from a third rate musical. Mass-produced puppets.

If they start a dance number, I’ll scream and demand to see the director and the master of choreography. Also the lighting technician. Not to mention the props master.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“The changeling invasion.”

I mentally berated myself for not figuring this out sooner. So that’s what the legendary changelings actually look like. I shuddered. “Where are we? Why is everything… like this?”

“I pulled you into a footnote, because I need to talk to you,” Rika answered nonchalantly.

“Don’t you mean a hoofnote?”

“No, I mean a footnote,” Rika replied, glancing at me over her shoulder. “Why do you ponies have to turn everything into a horse pun?”

Shouldn’t it hurt when your hair is on fire? Actually, shouldn’t it have burned up completely by now? “…they bit me, and now I’m hallucinating?” I suggested.

“No,” Rika sighed. “A footnote is the first meta-layer, a comment. It breaks up the stream, so we’re still in your story, still in Canterlot, but technically, outside of time. You can at least take a breather.”

I felt the ache in my muscles. I’m really not built for running. “How long do I have?…”

“Until I’m done talking to you,” Rika grinned at me. It’s the same feeling that you get when staring at a majestic mountain, or the Sun, or the ocean, or watching the dragon migration. Being confronted with something gigantic. She’s just tall, that’s all. I’ve met minotaurs who were taller. I’ve met griffons with smiles on their beaks far more predatory than hers. Most of them were actually quite nice! Why can’t I shake this feeling?

“Because I represent something greater,” Rika answered my unasked question. “Tell me, Lyra. When you thought that poem just before I pulled you in here, did you mean it?”

Huh?

“Did you actually feel that, or were they just words for you?” she elaborated.

“If you can read my mind, why are you even asking?!” I countered. “And I don’t know about humans, but ponies consider it very impolite to read others’ thoughts without permission!” I think the only reason it’s not really against the law is that only a few legendary wizards could even cast the spell.

“I’m not reading your mind,” Rika pressed. “I’m just reading the story of your life together with you. Nothing more. Nothing less. It’s not my fault you have to put so much of your mind into it, and generally, I don’t care. But this time, it’s important. Did you actually feel that?”

“My poems are not just words,” I insisted, puffing out my chest in pride. Seriously, if you can’t be proud of your special talent, what can you be proud of?

“Okay, I’ll buy that,” Rika smiled condescendingly. “Tell me, Lyra, can you sing?”

What a stupid question. “Of course I can sing, I’m a pony!” I exclaimed. Is this leading up to anything?

“Just had to confirm,” Rika nodded. “So what would you say, if I told you that I can give you power to stop this invasion, here and now, no strings attached? All by yourself?”

That gave me pause. I wrote about this. “Lucky Laurel and the Fields of Hate.” An ancient fairytale about the mare who traded her cutie mark for just this sort of promise. Contrary to tradition, my version had a good ending, but that’s because it should. I might not be so lucky. “I would ask you, why don’t you do it yourself, if you have that kind of power,” I replied cautiously.

“Good question,” Rika snickered, crouching before me. The heat radiating from her entire body almost made me dizzy again, as the more rational part of my brain, the one that so rarely gets a say, notified me, that anything that hot is either dead, or has far more magic than it knows what to do with. Or both… “This is not my story, you see. My story has ended a long time ago. Maybe Mary can write me a new one, but I’m not banking on it. Ever heard of a Mary Sue?”

The simplest “no” froze in my throat, so I just shook my head.

“It’s a story pattern,” she started explaining, ignoring just how uneasy she made me just by her hair burning right next to my face. “One that is centered on a character for which the world bends. Take them away, and it straightens out. Try to imagine an alien invader who isn’t out to harm you… just out to steal your spotlight, who came to do every heroic feat that would otherwise be yours. Would you wish something like that upon your world?”

I shook my head again. I know the pattern, if not the term. Younger amateur authors fall into it now and again, I narrowly avoided it myself a couple of times. But to imagine something like this might actually exist…

“Well, I’ve been one enough times, and the results suck,” Rika said. “So no, I want the invasion to be stopped, but I am not doing it myself. Also,” she smiled playfully, “I told your princess I was just a plot device, and you wouldn’t want me to be lying to the princess, now would you?”

I weighed my options. Bon-Bon is still out in this city, somewhere. Would I give up my cutie mark to save her?

Yes.

A thousand times yes.

“No, no, no, no,” Rika interrupted me, standing up, “What would I even do with your cutie mark?! Keep it in a jar? Frame it and hang it on a wall?! You should worry about losing your head, because I’m not coming back later to bail you out if you screw up. No strings means no strings.”

I mentally bit my tongue. Damn, I forgot she’s listening.

“And if you’re doing this under duress, because you’re desperate,” she continued, “you’re not getting anything, or Mary will never let me hear the end of it.”

“Maybe, if you just let me go, I can still find Bon-Bon,” I muttered.

Rika looked into the wall of Canterlot. “Actually, she’s right here… Let’s take a short break. This should be fun!”

And before I could say anything in response, the world twisted once again.

(2) The second time, I was only dizzy for a few seconds. I think the place is growing on me, which is a scary thought by itself. If it is a place. It’s probably a state. I wonder if it’s anything like what you see when you teleport. If you even see anything…

“I figured you need to think of what to tell her after that,” Rika commented. “Take your time.”

“What in Hades was that?!” I exclaimed. It boggles the mind. Even more than the angles, they’re all wrong, and that’s all I can say about them, all I need to say about them, but Bon-Bon?!

“Five dead changelings?” Rika said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I jumped. “She makes candy! That, that was an action movie! The kind they won’t let the foals in to see!”

“She’s a secret agent, at least in this Equestria,” Rika giggled. “Retired in deep cover, but you never really retire from the alphabet soup. Bon-Bon isn’t even her real name. Sorry to break it to you, but you would have found out anyway.”

This was more shocking than I could readily admit. I don’t know how much time I spent staring at the still image of Bon-Bon’s face. I’m not sure there is such a thing as time, here. Was any of our time together real?

What does it mean to be real, anyway?

Would Bon-Bon be so horrified to see me now if it wasn’t real?

Don’t think about it too loud. The human can hear you. She has to be some kind of human princess… Princess-Errant. Who goes around and makes errors.

“So, with that out of the way…” Rika nudged me with her knee, “if it is out of the way… Do you still want it?”

“Yes,” I answered without hesitation.

“What, really?” Rika looked at me curiously. She really can’t read my mind, can she?

“You wanted to know if I can sing,” I replied. “I have no idea what you’re really offering, what will it actually cost me. I don’t think you will tell. That’s not how these things work, right? It’s a musical. An epic poem of everyday life. I can’t stop and coax every little detail out of you just because I’m having second thoughts, right? The audience will be bored.”

Rika just stood there, towering above me. It’s really inconvenient to stare at someone so much taller…

“And I am having second thoughts,” I admitted. “But… It really is about my cutie mark, isn’t it? It’s not something anypony could do. You could easily find another pony. How long will it take you to find another lyre?”

The grimace on Rika’s face told me more than I think she wanted to say.

This silence is deafening.

Finally, Rika crouched before me again, and smiled. “This is not a real relic, of course. Just an imitation I had made when I still hoped I could get Mary to sing. But he should work pretty much everywhere,” she said, opening the palm of her hand. Resting on the black of her glove was an unassuming piece of crystal on a thin chain. “His name is Grayswandir, and he will be your new friend,” she added, locking the chain around my neck.

It’s kind of anticlimactic.

“Oh, no. It’s just starting,” Rika grinned, stretching back up and pushing me into the wall of the world with a soft kick in the rump. “Mahou shoujo, ikima—”

Author's Note

Yes, this is late and resulted in a hole in my schedule, sorry about that. Mostly because of the poetry, which I am sorry to inflict on you and will try to keep to the minimum in the future. On a good day, I can rhyme better than Zecora, but I haven’t had a good day for a while now.

This was meant to be confusing. I promised narrative trickery, and this is exactly what it is. This Conversation is one of the primary reasons I spent so much time tuning my Fimfic formatter. But that’s why I call this story overengineered. While Fimfiction’s EPUB generator will surely break it, I suspect that now, FanFicFare also will. I guess I should start publishing my own EPUB…

Which particular song did Lyra mangle? This one. It doesn’t say what she is singing even remotely, but that’s not what Lyra wanted anyway.

This needs to be reported to ETSAB, I suppose.

Tune in next time for the conclusion of this particular story arc. No accounting for how many chapters will they spend cleaning up the pieces, though…

Conversation 27: Spike

Mary closed her eyes and pressed her face to the back door of the café. “It’s clear, let’s go,” she said a few seconds later, opening the door.

She might say this dragon eye of hers is a nuisance, but that’s not the first time I saw her use it. When she’s looking for a book, instead of asking me, she just closes her eyes and ends up right next to the shelf where it is, and I know the shelving system in her dimension is nothing like any of Twilight’s inventions. Dragon eyes have to be good for something, right?

After she shot that first changeling with her death ray, we retreated into the kitchen just before they flooded the street outside. I’m not sure just how she talked Joe into hiding in the storage room, because it involved so much loaded language, that most of it flew over my head. Adults… Eventually he backed down, and let us go. I’m not sure why she did that, but I suspect the guy’s going to turn up somewhere else again today. Either Pinkie’s right and he really is a secret agent, or… Well, I dunno. Not sure if I want to find out.

The narrow alley behind the café was empty, save for the trash bins. “Yup, no bugs in sight,” I commented, picking a direction. “Come on!” The noises are getting closer, and they’re plain scary, we’ve got to be very careful if we don’t want to fight all of them at once.

I don’t think I could fight more than one. But I need to be a strong dragon.

“They are anything but bugs,” Mary corrected.

“They look like bugs!” I insisted. “Big, scary dragonfly beetles. Dragon beetles. Something!”

“Insects don’t have bones,” she said. “And whatever they have for muscles beneath the hard shell looks like citrus and smells horrible.”

Ew. So that’s why she spent so much time looking at the one she shot. “Couldn’t you, I dunno, try talking first?” I said. “This death ray is… I keep trying to imagine what it would do to a pony. I’m going to be emotionally traumatized and it will affect my cognitive development. Twilight is going to be very angry with you.”

“Imagine how angry she will be if I let you get eaten. Changelings are very decoherent,” she said like it explained everything.

“What’s the word even mean?” I’m sure it’s not in any of Twilight’s dictionaries, I checked that first thing. When Twilight tried to explain it, I lost track completely by the time she mentioned quantum physics. She insisted that physics had nothing to do with the word, but that didn’t help.

“It means, that depending on where changelings came from, the future involving them is very different, and still, this day, here, looks more or less the same in most variations of Equestria. Their history branches backwards more than forwards,” Mary said. Ok, that’s more like it. I get a feeling that’s not all of it, as usual, but it’s not like we have the time. “Are they evil or just hungry? Do they have families? Do they live in a hive? I have no idea if you can be friends with a hive.”

“Beekeepers say they’re friends with their hives,” I pointed out. “Bees themselves, not so much.” We have an understanding with the bees that live on the library tree. They don’t bother us and I don’t burn their house down. Working well so far.

“Well, maybe somepony can make it work, but not me,” Mary shrugged. “I’m not sure they even talk at all.”

“Maybe they just don’t speak Equish,” I suggested. “Like forest animals. The smarter ones.”

“Then how are they supposed to replace anypony?” Mary countered.

Yeah, that’d be a problem. “Ask Fluttershy?”

“Yes. But until I can, I’m going to shoot first,” Mary replied.

I had to remind myself, that no matter how civilized humans are, they’re not ponies. And being a dragon raised by ponies, I got no room to complain, here. I kind of understand how to be a good pony, mostly, but I’ve no idea what a good dragon is supposed to be like. I’m making it up as I go along. For a human, Mary is probably being good.

But we were about to run out of alley, as it opened up into a wide street. I carefully peeked out from behind the corner, Mary looming above me with her death ray ready. Changelings. Lots of them. Fighting the Royal Guard, chasing ponies around. “We can’t cross the—,” I started whispering.

I never finished, because a broken, battered changeling body slammed into the ground right before my nose. Ew. Ew! I really am going to be emotionally traumatized, but later. Mary said she needs a brave dragon. And I’m going to be a brave dragon.

We looked upwards. High above us, Princess Luna was being very, very angry. I never really saw much of Nightmare Moon, I fell asleep right when she showed up. All I remember myself is that dark… Twilight called it “majesty,” but I’m not sure if this word works like that. That “majesty,” and the triumphant smile. What I saw in the sky was anything but a smile, just a ball of shining blue “majesty” and rage with wings, circled by a swarm of dark splotches.

They were dancing in a spiral around her, dodging bolts of magic and hoof strikes, but not really attacking. What are they even trying to do?

As if on command, all the changelings on the street looked up, and most of the ones nearby took flight to join the cloud around Luna. “Go, I’m covering,” Mary commanded, pointing her death ray at the street, and I ran.

Only once we both were safely on the other side and in the alley opposite, I had enough breath to ask, “Shouldn’t we ask her for help?”

“The last thing Princess Luna needs right now is having to protect us,” Mary replied, “They’re keeping her occupied. This isn’t an invasion anymore.”

“What is it, then?” I wondered.

“A raid,” Mary said calmly, moving deeper into the shadows of the alley. “They aren’t staying. They will eat everything they can and leave.”

It took us much longer to get through the winding alley and many backyards to the next proper street we absolutely had to cross, and that one was flooded with changelings and chaos, too. Only this time, there was no Princess Luna above to give us a lucky break. To say the truth, I was almost about to hide under Mary’s skirt.

And then, I heard it.

This disaster will be over soon
I swear by the light of the Sun and the Moon
There are things that are forever true
I will sing of them for you

I think that dragons are actually not very harmonic. I’ve got no other dragons to compare with, but usually, when the music of harmony starts, I don’t get the urge to sing with everypony. Sometimes, I try to improvise with them, if Twilight’s in on it, but honestly, I’m not feeling it, not the way they do.

But even I felt this one. And even if I didn’t, the bright, wide beam of mint green magic going straight up into the sky from a few blocks away would be very hard to ignore. Just like the blood-curdling scream that went with it, which was even louder than the music. “What the hay was that?!” I couldn’t help but exclaim.

“Has to be an aufwachen waveform,” Mary commented with a frown, staring at the beam. “Awakening of a magical girl. Of all the things Rika could do, she had to pick one that screws with every possible prediction I could make.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have provoked her like that?” I wondered, as the scream finally ended. I’m really curious about what an aufwhatever waveform is, but I am sure this is another lecture we don’t have time for.

“That’s the only thing that works,” Mary replied grimly. “At least she didn’t just give somepony a giant robot…”

Whatever it was that Rika did, it definitely worked. A giant robot would be cool, but this worked better. I know all sorts of things about ponies. Some of them, I’m not sure they even know themselves. I only notice them because I’m not a pony.

And I know what ponies usually do when they want to be brave.

For every tribe, it’s a bit different. Earth ponies stand and fight. Pegasi charge. Unicorns retreat behind a wall… then they light up their horns and move the wall. Well, not literally, maybe, but that’s how it feels. Canterlot is a unicorn majority city, and what I was seeing was every unicorn caught in the street by the changelings suddenly trying to be brave. Earth ponies and pegasi were there, too. But unicorns were everywhere.

Ponies who were running around terrified just a minute ago were fighting back as one, moving in step to the music of harmony and singing along, flooding into the street out of the buildings. This felt glorious… and even scarier than the changelings, somehow, as the source of the music, the eye of this storm, was getting closer. Spells of every color of rainbow, and some colors I’m sure rainbows don’t even have. Stones thrown by hoof and by magic. A group of ponies in chef hats working on slicing a guard out of a puddle of the green goo with big knives. Somepony waving a streetlight around in his magic like a twig. A group of well-dressed ponies advancing behind pieces of a wrought iron fence, pointy ends first.

Finally, the source of the song ran past us. A human figure in weird armor, dancing through in some twisted, alien ballet, surrounded by a glittering cloud of thin, gleaming wires. Some of them would snag changelings. The lucky ones would get entangled and remain there, tied up. Others…

…I don’t have the time to get emotionally traumatized.

“Is that Lyra Heartstrings?!” Mary exclaimed. I don’t know how she recognized her, I would never even guess, and I knew Lyra for years. Mane color? Really?

“Quick, after her, she’s going in the right direction!” I shouted, darting out of the alley. “Why is she a human?”

“No clue,” Mary replied, following me at what for her was just a very quick walk. I wish I were a bigger dragon. Even a little bigger would be nice right now. “Maybe it was easier to turn her human than to make a pony version.”

Tailing the rampaging Lyra got us through four more blocks. It was frantic. And really loud. And messy. I’m not sure I want to remember any of it, except maybe that gray earth pony mare on the roof of the opera house. She was standing there and playing her cello, ignoring everything around her, solid like a rock, gray like smoky quartz, the only spot of color being her bow tie, and her long black hair was waving in the breeze. Changelings were swarming around her, and every time one would get too close, a spell or a sharp flying object would greet it, and the mare just kept playing, lost in harmony.

Smoky quartz is not very tasty or filling, but it’s sure easier on the eyes than what I’m seeing in front of me right now.

We were getting further and further behind the running Lyra, when my thoughts were interrupted by a changeling dropping out of the sky in our path. The bug hissed at me. I must think quickly…

Mary is right behind me with her death ray. It’s a very final way to deal with them, but that’s why it is effective. All I have to do is make sure that the bug doesn’t reach Mary before she can shoot, and that I don’t get too close to the beam. Which means I need to roll under its hooves and try to bite the leg…

Suddenly, a ghostly bear’s paw swatted the changeling away, sending it flying into the wall of a building and I jumped back, bumping into Mary’s skirt. “Ursa Minor?!”

Maybe an Ursa Petty? Do those exist? An Ursa Minor would be bigger. This thing could still swallow me whole, but it’s also way more transparent than the one I remember.

The bear snarled at us, turned away and ran into a side street, followed by a cart pulled by Prince Blueblood. In the cart stood the unmistakable figure of Trixie, her horn blazing with power. Even if I didn’t recognize her colors and her face, the cape and the hat she held in her teeth, furiously chewing on it, were a dead giveaway.

Blueblood. Pulling a cart. With Trixie in it. “…Twilight is never going to believe me,” I mumbled.

“Never going to believe us, you mean,” Mary said.

Well, having a witness is a little comforting.

EXTERMINATE!

The song was done, and Lyra was already far out of sight, but above the horizon, I could see changelings taking off and assembling into small clumps, all moving in the same direction across the sky. “They’re retreating! We’ve won!” I exclaimed in relief. They were flying towards city limits, pursued by pegasi in Guard armor and without, beams of magic, crossbow bolts and all kinds of floating and thrown trash. A cannon boomed in the distance.

“How far do we still have to go?” Mary asked, and she sounded even more worried than when we left the café.

I looked up at her, “What’s the hurry now? They’re leaving!”

“The correct thing to do,” Mary said, her face growing whiter by the moment, “and the mainline event, is to reestablish the shield as soon as possible. Which would push all the changelings out of the city at once. It has to be possible now! How far?”

Something about that sounded sickening, and I couldn’t even tell what. “Just around the corner!” I said, turned around and ran, not even caring if Mary is following or not.

The moment I turned the corner, I almost bumped into a Royal Guard. Who took one look at me, folded his ears, cast his eyes away and made a step sideways. “What?…” I asked.

But he didn’t answer.

Among half a squad of Royal Guard mulling about, right on Shining Armor’s front porch, Pinkie, Fluttershy and Rarity were weeping openly, piled together in a group hug. Who dared to make Rarity cry?!

Hay, who managed to make Pinkie cry?!

Applejack was sitting on the pavement next to them, staring at her own hat before her with a deep, dreadful frown. Even Rainbow Dash was standing next to the wall, her face pressed tightly into the white stone.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “What happened? Where’s Twilight?”

Applejack looked up at me. “Spike?” But instead of answering, she, too, folded her ears and looked away.

That’s it.

I went around her and darted for the doors.

“Don’ go in there, Spike!” Applejack yelled at me, but I didn’t care.

…Oh.

I dropped to my knees next to Twilight, who just stood there, next to the remains of the broken chandelier. Her eyes were frozen, unblinking, staring at a sword on the floor in mute shock.

Oh…

When I was just learning to read, Shining Armor gave me my first comic book for Hearth’s Warming. He said that a boy needs heroes to grow up right. We never called each other brothers. Just like I never call Twilight my sister. Other ponies did, but I always thought it would feel strange.

But we were family. And he was my hero. A pony I wanted to be like.

“Cadance,” I heard Princess Celestia’s voice. “Cadance, I understand it hurts, but there is no magic that can raise the dead. Trust me—”

“Do not bother, sister,” Luna’s voice interrupted her. “She can’t hear you.” When did she even come in?… “Verily, there is no such magic. But she is searching, where even I do not dare to tread. If there is harmony in the world, love will find a way.”

“But what if she doesn’t come back?!” Celestia exclaimed.

“We do not work miracles,” Luna replied calmly. “They happen.”

There was no reaction. Only a faint whisper from Cadance, words that I could not make out. Words that I weren’t even sure are words. Maybe a spell. Only, no spell I ever heard about gets a horn to sparkle like that.

I have never really met Cadance before. All they say is that she’s the pretty princess. But right now, that pretty pony princess was doing more majesty than I saw Princess Luna show in the sky. No light show, no booming voice, no glowing eyes, but a sense of power that I never felt before and hope I will never feel again.

“—And I believe that love is stronger than death.”

It faded. Cadance opened her eyes.

And I heard Shining cough.

Author's Note

So here we are. Chaos, panic and disorder, my work in Canterlot is done. The changelings are out of the story for a while, but they got some of what they came for, and they will be back. Everypony can take a breather, count the chickens and try to make sense of what actually happened. The world itself is different now, ever so slightly. Meanwhile, Chekhov’s orbital particle beam satellite continues charging.

P.S. Luna continues insisting that the moon is not made of cheese. I’m not so sure anymore.

Conversation -65 ~ The Long Desired Starlight

Author's Note

This particular conversation is deeply out of order. It was originally written in April 2015, and is one of the very few pieces of Mary and Rika’s backstory that existed in writing before Aporia was started.

Next week, we’re going back to driving ponies crazy.

Conversation -65 ~ The Long Desired Starlight

A few minutes later, Rika went off to search for a particular book, with instructions to make tea with crumpets by the time she returns. Little did she know.

The idea of tea kickstarted a long argument between Mary and Dorothy regarding the proper method of brewing it, which turned out unexpectedly controversial for both. Dorothy insisted on ISO 3103, because in matters that flew right over her limited sensory apparatus – to her perpetual annoyance, her design permitted her to drink tea, but not to appreciate its finer points – she preferred to stick to established standards. Mary insisted on using the twelve rules as laid down by George Orwell instead, and had trouble describing what is it that she feels is essentially different about them, or why does she put so much faith into the words of a man some fifteen years younger than herself. It took them a considerable time to settle on a bizarre algorithm, that combined the features of BS 6008:1980, Orwell’s twelve rules, and some extra nonsense, including stirring the brewing tea counter-clockwise at a specific number of revolutions per minute, which Dorothy was now executing with precision that only a CPU with her clock rates could possibly manage.

“Why were we arguing, anyway?” Dorothy commented. “I’m pretty sure Rika can’t tell good tea from bad unless someone actually describes it for her. And that would have to be you, because I can’t tell either, so …whatever…”

“Wait, I don’t think I follow,” Mary said, even though her eyes were intently following the motions of the spoon Dorothy was stirring the brewing tea with.

Dorothy pulled the spoon out, closed the tea pot, and stared at Mary. “There’s not a single protein molecule in her body. Do the math. I thought you knew.”

“Well, I knew something was up, but I didn’t really make the connection. It looked pretty normal when she got cut open in front of me, once,” Mary stared right back with a hint of bewilderment. “I don’t pretend to understand, but I can’t deny what I saw.”

Dorothy made a pause to cover the teapot with a cosy and smiled. “A lifelike imitation. Engineered so that she would be comfortable with it. Only a few systems actually work. It’s organic, mostly, but nothing as complex as collagen, and the blood is primarily cycloalkanes.”

Mary made no attempt to conceal the surprise. “Why?…”

“No clue,” Dorothy said. “Maybe she just thinks it needs to be flammable because it’s symbolic. Didn’t you notice how she steers the conversation towards her relationship with the nature of the universe once every few days?”

“I noticed she’s afraid of losing her sanity and needs to regularly make statements about self to reaffirm she still has one,” Mary responded cautiously after a brief pause. “Which is perfectly expected from a human who became an eldritch abomination. I know I wouldn’t last a week.” After a pause, she added, pointing upwards into the hazy blue of the Library, “How does anyone stay sane while hanging around here for longer than a few days is beyond me. This is crushing.”

Dorothy shook her head. “There’s more to it. To put it short, she’s living in third person.”

“That sounds like the line feeding into a long detailed explanation,” Mary prompted.

Dorothy took a deep breath before continuing, in an uninterrupted tirade with no pauses other than those demanded by syntax, “Rika’s doll, for lack of a better term, has its own senses, but they are very weak. I don’t know how weak exactly, but I know she doesn’t have the vision resolution to actually read, she calls the story objects directly while here. No idea what sort of cheating she uses while inside, but here, if you tap the railing, you can see she’s constantly querying the spiral for data. I don’t know if she’s consciously aware of that, but for me it’s hard to miss. She prefers someone else’s narrative stream in almost all cases, reading the text everyone else is emitting as they live, using this to make up for most of the senses, so she is constantly observing herself from third person. Objective third person narration is her preferred mode. If your inner monologue is loud enough to make it to the story, she’ll even seem telepathic. The fact that you have two distinct narration streams at once confuses her enough that she regularly brings it up, even more than the non-linear multi-world-line story you came from. Good enough for a long detailed explanation?”

“…Two distinct narration streams?” Mary asked, after that sank in.

“Your eye,” Dorothy replied immediately, as if this explained everything. “I thought you knew, but if you didn’t, you need to. She seems to like you. She usually doesn’t bring guests for tea.”

Mary just silently sank back into the couch.

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The tea was just ready to be poured when Rika slammed the thin paperback titled “Taketori Monogatari” onto the table.

Mary looked curiously at the book as she poured Rika a cup. “…So this is the one?”

“Yes,” Rika responded, pushing the book towards Mary and picking out a crumpet. “It’s timeless, you see. Skim it, you’ll know what I mean.”

Mary wasn’t reading anywhere as fast as Rika, but the book was so thin, that Mary was done well before Rika finished her crumpet. “No such thing as timeless exists,” Mary said with a faint smirk.

“I think she means that it’s crystallized,” Dorothy said, spreading butter over another crumpet and handing it to Mary. “There are a few floors worth of story trees descended from this book, even more if you count the first order pattern echoes, but they are all contextually separate. This one is over.”

“Bet you whatever…” Mary grinned, as she took the crumpet, and paused to take a bite. “Bet you whatever that an unexplored branch exists,” she said, brandishing the half-eaten crumpet.

Dorothy shook her head. “Not to my knowledge,” she said, as Rika nodded vigorously in agreement.

“But it’s so obvious! It’s already there!” Mary exclaimed. Her golden eye sparkled, which she didn’t seem to notice. “You really can’t see it? It would only take five minutes. Maybe, some fisticuffs, but no more than five minutes.”

“Enlighten me,” Rika replied curiously.

Mary did as she was bid, which took slightly longer than five minutes. Even before she was done, Rika started giggling, and eventually her laughter got so loud, that a few nearby books fell off the shelves.

“That counts as cruel and unusual,” Dorothy commented when the laughter went back down to sporadic fits of giggling.

“That’s exactly why it’s sure to work,” Mary grinned. “It’s a cognition problem, you see. One good idea is all that’s really missing. Maybe a few hints to execute it, but only one atomic idea.”

“Hints and an idea only someone extemporary could give,” Dorothy added.

“Well, yes. So?” Mary said, and hid her grin behind the tea cup.

“Whatever, I’m doing it,” Rika said, stopping her giggle and putting on a serious face.

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The Emperor sat alone in the audience hall, with the last letter of his beloved moon princess. He sent the officer who brought it away, and then told everyone else to leave him, so that nobody would see the Emperor cry.

Because that was exactly what the Emperor felt like doing upon reading the letter, and even emperors are entitled to some privacy in moments like these.

He was interrupted by the sound of a quiet humming from somewhere. It was a song, beautiful, but not particularly uplifting. “Anyone who disobeyed our order had better show themselves,” he angrily threw into the twilight of the hall.

“I wasn’t there when you issued your order, so I can’t have disobeyed it,” Rika said, peeking out from behind a paper screen. Her glowing hair made her appearance majestic enough that the Emperor had to abandon thoughts of calling the guards. “If you plan to keep crying, tenno heika, I can leave you to it, but it seems to me, that actual help will do you better.”

The Emperor made haste to wipe his face. “Who are you?!” he exclaimed.

“Just a passing goddess, for lack of a better term,” Rika grinned. “Do you want to see your princess again?”

“More than anything!” the Emperor replied, seizing the moment. “But it would take a miracle now, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes,” Rika said blankly, slowly advancing towards him, “Precisely the kind of miracle I’m for. There are certain costs attached, but nothing you can’t do.”

“Tell me then, be you goddess or demon, I will do anything!” the Emperor exclaimed. He wasn’t exactly sure what sort of horrors would befall him if he agreed, but the whole scenario rang suspiciously true, like something he’d heard in his childhood. A story.

“Anything?” Rika stopped right before the sitting emperor, looking down at him. “You can refuse, you know.”

“Out with it, demon!” the Emperor hissed.

“Wish granted,” Rika declared, popping the cork on the bottle which the moon princess left for the Emperor, and which he completely lost track of during this conversation.

It’s not that Rika is that much stronger than a human without her suitcase, but she is considerably faster even then, so it was over before the Emperor could scream for help, and he was left on the floor, choking and shaking from horror of what just happened. He could feel the elixir working its magic, and dreaded it.

“Sh-h-h,” Rika whispered into his ear, still tightly holding him to prevent him from reaching for the sword rack, “that was just what you needed to do for the miracle to happen.”

“Live forever without her, you mean?!” the Emperor sobbed. He was no longer concerned that anyone could possibly see him crying.

“If you do it just right, five hundred years or so should be enough. Even in the worst case, a thousand years. I am pretty sure you’ll get there long before ten thousand years of ‘tenno heika banzai’ elapse, because that would be imperially silly,” Rika said, standing up and turning to leave.

“Get where?” the shaken Emperor asked to her back.

And Rika turned around and told him in detail, with the most neutral expression she could manage.

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It took him seven hundred years.

For a while, the Emperor, styled the Immortal Emperor since these unfortunate events, thought that his goal would be completed a few hundred years earlier. A war with the barbarians from far West four hundred years in plainly demonstrated that solid fuel rockets are not efficient enough for orbit, so he had to rethink his initial plan. Finding the savants capable of figuring out the notions of specific impulse and rocket equation caused a delay even more painful than the study of mechanics and kinematics, which actually came relatively easy, once he deciphered the cryptic hint about falling apples and planetary motion, and started asking the right questions.

Requisite developments in materials science that eventually brought him the current hydrogen/oxygen engines took much longer than he anticipated, as they required more conquests on the mainland, and a complex web of politics, both internal and international, which took far too much of his time. Even after that, progress felt painfully slow, but a cursory examination of his own memory told him that it was actually accelerating. Still, the sheer number of arts he had to patronize just to make even the most primitive intended use of those engines was staggering.

It was twenty years since the first artificial satellite. The expenses were legendary throughout the known world, and what embarrassed the Emperor most was that his empire could actually afford it. In the long enough run, every step towards his goal worked out to the benefit and glory of his domain, and he was the uncontested master of the long run these days.

It was ten years since the first man in space. It was three years since the first manned orbital telescope. It was five hundred years since his love story became a renowned work of classical literature, imitated and retold numerous times, and only twenty since the first major motion picture. There was a second one in the works, this one in color.

And as he was looking at the photos of the far side of the Moon and studying the detail of crystal domes of the Moon Capital, helpfully marked up by his analysts, it finally hit him:

Before deciding whether to make war, or send ambassadors, he needs to make a much more important decision. One that he was avoiding for hundreds of years, because he never had the courage for it.

He needs to start thinking what to say to Kaguya when he sees her again, and this is going to be the hardest challenge ever.

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“That’s… beautiful, actually,” Dorothy smiled, as Rika finished reading the page aloud. “So what do you think happens next?”

“One of three things,” Mary said, putting down her teacup. “The princess remembers him, whether immediately or after some kind of struggle, and is overjoyed that he took the hint. They lived happily ever after. The ever after probably includes some form of transhumanist utopia further down the line.”

As she talked, the book in Rika’s hands slowly grew thicker, which eventually resulted in an abrupt mitosis. The title on the book that split off was “Kaguya Space Program” for some reason, but Mary didn’t notice and continued. “Another option is that she doesn’t remember no matter how hard he tries. Maybe because the interpretation of her hint was wrong, or because her induced memory loss actually destroys all traces of personality. He turns the Moon Capital into another crater and goes on to reshape the world into a tragic Wagnerian space opera. Maybe he becomes a sealed demon lord, and gets unearthed many generations later in a space fantasy story, that sort of thing.”

The book split again.

“The last option I see is… wait, is it supposed to do that?” Mary asked, pointing at the books, which were preparing to split yet another time.

Rika put a finger to her lips and fiddled with the stack until the last book came free. She carefully set them back on the table and looked at them intently. The books shivered under her gaze for a few seconds, but eventually went still. “No, it isn’t.”

“It’s a good thing there’s only one of you, Mary,” Dorothy commented.

“What grounds exactly do you have to think there’s only one?” Mary wondered.

None of the three ladies had a good answer to that particular question.

Conversation 28: Shining Armor

The invasion lasted all of thirty minutes, most of which I spent being dead.

In the morning, it took hours to convince Cady and Twilight I’m not actually made of glass, that I do have some work to do, no matter how unimportant, and that I’m at least fit for desk duty. Which really is where most of my job happens, no matter what everypony imagines. The doctor tried to convince me, waving the death certificate he wrote while Cady was standing over my corpse, but Twily glared at the thing so hard, that it actually evaporated right there, scaring him out of his stethoscope. By the time she realized that the doctor really was on their side in this, it was a bit too late.

They continued resisting, but I insisted. I really needed some time alone to think.

I’m sure that dress uniform tunic is going to the Royal Guard museum now. And I don’t want to even touch the morning newspapers. This isn’t how I wanted to end up in history books.

The Royal Guard itself is something of a historical curiosity, and the more time I spend in this office, the more it seems to me that all of us belong in that museum, together with our shiny armor and our spears. A colthood dream turned… Something weird. The Guard was originally founded by the decree of Princess Platinum, who decided she needs a completely separate elite unit to guard her person, and I’ve heard at least five different theories as to why, some of them supposing elaborate conspiracies, and others citing vanity. Since history retained very little actual evidence any of the Founders even existed, beyond their signatures on the portion of the original scroll of the Accords that wasn’t immersed in custard, it hardly matters all that much. What does is that the Royal Guard escaped being merged into the Earth-Unicorn-Pegasi Guard in 1012 and remained as the castle guard of Canterlot under direct command of Princess Celestia.

Over time, this translated into two sets of duties that have next to nothing to do with each other, one of which is police jurisdiction over Canterlot and its environs, and the other is protecting the Princess and other national VIPs, wherever they may wish to go. Effectively, I’m the only chief of police in Equestria that answers directly to the Sisters, and not to the EPA. Also the only one who commands an actual artillery unit in a metropolitan area, not that it has ever done us any good. When trouble comes calling here, it tends to bypass the walls entirely.

So many of the reports written about yesterday’s events ended up on my desk, and I was determined to read every single one, no matter how ugly they might turn out to be, or how thick the stack gets. Even if Princess Celestia decides there won’t be a quiz, I still feel it’s my duty to know.

The stack turned out to be considerably thinner than I had anticipated.

The invasion was over pretty quickly, and it was very good that it ended when it did. The reports were unclear on the total number of casualties, because the hospitals were still flooded. The majority of the wounded suffered from symptoms that were as vague as they were debilitating – weakness, depression, and what the ones that could still talk could only describe as “brain fatigue.” Those that received visits from friends and family were showing rapid improvement, and doctors expressed hopes most would be discharged within the week. The number of tourists from all over Equestria made locating the said friends and family rather complicated, and my guardsponies were strained just keeping things in order.

And I probably should be out there with them, but instead, I’m sitting here and reading their reports. I felt myself way in over my head once again. Solve the only murder to turn up in a decade, and everypony seems to think you’re some kind of genius. I have always thought somepony more senior should be sitting in this chair, but the Princess would hear none of it.

Back to the reports.

Those with more conventional injuries sustained during the battle were actually worse off. Compared to other tribes, let alone most of the non-pony races, unicorns tend to be somewhat fragile, so discounting those that just needed stitches or a kiss to make them better, there were a lot of ponies out there who would need wheel-carts. Some of them, for the foreseeable future. It was hardly a consolation that all of those were my guardsponies, so they were at least guaranteed honors and a pension. It’s a miracle on par with what Cadance did that there was only one confirmed fatality.

Except me, that is.

And the changelings. In addition to the thirty four taken prisoner, which almost filled the castle dungeons, the number of corpses exceeded the capacity of city morgues, and emergency facilities were set up in accordance with disaster relief protocols. Nopony could clearly tell just how many corpses there are, either, because even emergency workers don’t normally get to assemble a jigsaw puzzle on that kind of scale. Especially when some pieces are missing.

The captured ones weren’t that much better off. They were refusing to eat anything, including griffon cuisine, trying to bite the staff instead, and actively resisting any attempts at communication. I wonder if they consider talking to food demeaning. If the ancient legends are true, and they do require love for sustenance, they’re probably not long for this world, either, because even compassion for them was in short supply. And I couldn’t even rightly fault anypony for it.

This is not the first time Canterlot was invaded by creatures of dark magic, not by far. Mom and dad have a lot of stories about the last one, they keep making jokes about hospital beds. There’s even that crazy theory there’s some kind of regular invasion cycle. But this attack is the bloodiest one in centuries, it doesn’t fit that cycle, and it’s far more calculated than any of those on record. I knew our wedding would probably be a chaotic affair, but I never expected something like that.

Should have listened to Cady. We could have eloped to get married in Las Pegasus and not given those things an opening.

Twily would really hate me for that, though.

The report of Prince Blueblood’s covert security detail was far more entertaining than it had any right to be. If the bachelor party didn’t have to be postponed, it would surely spoil the surprise. Since the only reason the report even existed was the fact that they lost the guy after he appropriated a cart for the purpose of defending the city, that particular point was moot. The report of the covert security assigned to the Ponyville human was much less entertaining, because they lost her well before the whole mess started, and nopony could even explain how. Considering that Twilight’s preliminary report on humans that I got to work with said she has no magical abilities worthy of note, that was weird.

The one that Princess Celestia called an alien princess was not even mentioned, but since I gave very specific orders to stay away from her whenever possible, that wasn’t a surprise. The reports of a completely unknown third human were. Just as the fact that it was she who roused the citizenry into song and was directly responsible for at least a third of all changeling fatalities, as well as most captives. All the patrol guards who heard her were confident the voice was feminine and very beautiful, but that was all they could really say.

Hidden deep within the stack was a sealed folder from the OSI, marked “Over The Top Secret, Burn Before Reading,” which is a clearance I wasn’t sure I even had. But since it had my name on it, and was, after all, on my desk, I felt justified in opening it.

I regretted it three pages in. The one disadvantage of being the Captain of the Royal Guard is that the only issues that get through to me and actually are above my pay grade are the ones Their Highnesses choose to handle themselves, so I never even have an actual excuse. It read like a trashy spy novel.

OSI writes a novel like that every time when they want our assistance, I think they have a bored paperback writer on staff somewhere. But I didn’t expect a story that would stretch my suspension of disbelief to the breaking point. One of Cady’s friends secretly being a famous librettist was normal. Being the Princess of Love, she just can’t help but play matchmaker when an opportunity turns up, so you really meet all sorts of people with her. But the report descended into nonsense immediately afterwards, suggesting that Lyra Heartstrings was replaced by a disguised human at least a year ago, and citing unusual sitting habits as evidence. It also detailed the activities of the Ponyville human, including the use of a weapon that sounded like it came out of a comic book.

And I couldn’t even ignore that report, because I really had no other explanations. Maybe, I should have taken the classification literally and burned it before reading. Actually, burning it now and saying I did is still an option. Whoever Lyra Heartstrings actually is, thousands of ponies owe her their lives, in my book that’s worth a lot of no questions.

I was looking around the office for something to light a fire with, when somepony knocked on the door. “Come in,” I said, without getting up. Normally, I would open the door myself, but one physical symptom from yesterday still remained. Both mine and Cady’s magic was drained so deeply, that even levitating paper still hurt.

Must be one more report. I hope this one doesn’t bring any worse news.

“Hey, Shining, are you very busy or just busy?” Spike said from somewhere just outside my line of sight. My desk is stupidly large even for this room.

“Somewhat busy,” I replied. “Actually, you’re just the dragon I need. Help me burn that thing,” I added, pushing the OSI folder towards him.

Spike clambered into the chair opposite me and glanced at the folder. “Wow. Top-secret, huh? Spy stuff?”

“Spy nonsense,” I replied dismissively. “They’re all a bit crazy, you know. ‘Burn before reading,’ you’d think a sane pony wouldn’t write that.”

Spike grinned at me. “Did you read it?”

“My lips are sealed,” I grinned back. “But it says you were very brave.”

Spike’s spines bristled visibly. “You don’t suppose there’s a chance Rarity could hear about that?”

“Well, I can’t show her the report…” I said. Last time Spike came to visit, he kept talking about the mare non-stop. It’s a shame that I never got to talk to any of Twilight’s new friends at the Gala, somepony who tells Blueblood off in full view of the entire party is definitely a pony who will go far. “But I think I could put in a good word for you.”

Spike tossed the folder up. With a whoosh of green flame, it became a cloud of finely dispersed ashes. “Why are you hiding here, anyway? Everypony’s looking for you, I’m sure the paperwork could wait.”

“Why do you think?”

“It’s not about Princess Cadance, is it?” Spike stared at me with worry.

I shook my head. “No, it’s mostly about me.”

“Look, just tell me, is everything okay?” Spike pressed.

“Not really, but I’ll manage,” I insisted. “It’s certainly nothing new. I felt useless in this job long before I died in the line of duty, that’s just the icing on the cake.”

“Aw come on, you can put a shield up over the entire city!” Spike exclaimed. “Even Twilight can’t do that, and you know what they say about her. Hay, even Princess Celestia says she can’t do that!”

“So what? Made no difference to the changelings, they were here already. That red-headed human? She walked through it. What’s next, an invasion of crazy cockatrices? Mutant vines? They will find some way to bypass it too, won’t they?” I sighed. “I wanted to be a knight. You know, like in fairy tales. Sure, I’m more of a cop now, but Royal Guard is as close as one gets to a knight, in our day and age. I even have my princess to protect. But what kind of a knight I am if I can’t even do that?!”

“But even in comic books, heroes don’t always win!” Spike insisted, climbing up on the desk to point a talon at me.

“This isn’t a comic book, Spike,” I replied. “And even in comic books, I don’t think a knight who is always getting saved by his princess is good for more than comic relief.”

“You’re still my hero,” Spike said, almost crying.

“Thanks,” I replied patting him softly on the head. “It means a lot to me to hear that. Really. It’s just that sometimes, being a hero isn’t fun at all. I’ll get over it.”

It wasn’t long before the pause turned from heartwarming to slightly awkward. Spike doesn’t like to be reminded he’s still a baby dragon. At least, not by anypony other than Twilight, and least of all, me.

Spike broke it first. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about Princess Cadance, anyway? Twilight said that you knew her even before I was hatched.”

“Same reason,” I replied. “It’s difficult to measure up to an alicorn princess. Alicorns are the closest ponies ever get to divine. I just couldn’t believe I’m not dreaming. Still can’t. Cadance might say that she can see how we live happily ever after in a crystal palace, but I’m still afraid to jinx it.”

“Eh, I think you got the worst of it already,” Spike waved his claw dismissively, “Getting killed and brought back to life, who can top that?”

“Famous last words,” I tapped my hoof on the desk and grinned. “Seriously, you’d think you read enough comic books to know that it’s always a bad idea to say that.”

Spike snickered. “All right, but you know what’s a good idea? Joe’s reopened. You deserve a lunch break. Doctor Spike prescribes a donut!”

My growling stomach concurred. I suppose that’s a good time for a reminder that I’m still alive.

And maybe, when I see Cady again, I will be less ashamed of myself.

Conversation 29: Sweetie Drops

I found Lyra hiding deep within the bowels of the opera house, between the props for “Celestia Superstar.” She was sitting on Discord’s throne in one of her cringe-inducing poses and staring at her front hooves like she was looking at them for the first time in her life.

The Shop was in uproar the moment they got wind that we somehow got an extra princess. Which was when the surveillance team spotted Princess Cadance being escorted through the city while the other Cadance retired for the night with her groom. My resignation had immediately been recalled until further notice – I wasn’t even aware they could do that, but turned out, they could. Grey Matter wears a suit to work just because he needs sleeves to keep tricks up them, crafty old goat. But even then, I had to beg and plead and maneuver to be assigned to deal with Lyra. I’m lucky that all it takes to bribe Joe is Super Sprinkles, or I don’t know what I would do.

Horse-apples like that is the whole reason I resigned when I got the chance, and here I am wading through it again.

“Lyra?” I tried.

“How nice of you to join me, dear Miss Bon-Bon,” she replied, without looking at me, in a voice she reserves for dramatic reading. Especially when the villain is speaking. “So you have come to kill me, I presume?”

She’s always been the crazy one. That smart, witty, happy crazy. But that felt anything but happy. That sounded like something a major villain would say on stage before breaking into a tragic song about himself.

“I’m not sure it’s the right time and place for an aria,” I said.

“It’s the opera house, that’s what it’s for,” Lyra insisted, finally turning to look at me, instead of the wall taking the place of imaginary audience. She had the face of a pony who accidentally ate a whole lemon without sugar.

“I’m not sure it’s the right time and place for you,” I insisted, making a small, hopeful step towards her. “Let’s go home?”

“I’m sitting on this goofy thing for a reason, you know,” Lyra waved her front hooves in the air. “I kinda feel like Discord today. Chaos, panic and disorder, massacre!”

Truth be told, a more transparent pony has yet to be born. “Didn’t you say that none of that ever happened?” I wondered. While she was writing “Celestia Superstar,” she complained about it every day. When it became her first big hit, she had to stop. “No takeover, no cave, no mirror, no rebellion, no war, just a long chase after a rolling unnatural disaster?”

“I did. And the Princess did,” Lyra agreed, “But her version doesn’t make a good story. There are only so many kinds of hero an epic opera can take. I’m not sure which kind I am, now. I’m not even sure if I am one at all.”

“There is a city out there that you saved,” I said, and it wasn’t even a lie. “Lyra… are you feeling alright?”

“Yes,” she tossed back at me. “That’s why I’m not! I killed what, a thousand of these things? I wasn’t counting. Why don’t I feel anything? No regret, no horror, not even pride, it’s just… blank!” she added, tears welling up in her eyes. “It’s like the music took everything, but I know it wasn’t the music doing it, it was me, it was my song, my harmony, my… fingers! Why do I feel just like yesterday?!”

I have no idea what it really was that she pulled, how she did transform like that. She might be good with magical theory, but practice has never been her strong suit. And yet, she’s still the same Lyra. The same glint in her eyes, the same moods that twist her mouth into a shape pony mouths were not meant to have.

“They put thousands of ponies into hospitals, and I’m not sure they felt anything, either,” I pointed out. “Sometimes, you have to do these things. There are too many creatures out there who call us food.”

“How many… how many did you kill?” she asked, looking at me with a blank expression.

I sighed. It would be so easy, so natural to lie this time. Like a thousand other times. But I have been ordered to break cover, and maybe, it really is time to stop. “Yesterday? Seven,” I admitted. “Two more tried to stop me while I was chasing after you. Look… There’s something I need to tell you.”

“That you’re a secret agent?” Lyra smiled suddenly. “I know.”

I stopped, my mouth ajar. “…How?” Was I that sloppy? Did my talent somehow fail me, without me even noticing?

“The alien princess told me. The red, scary human,” she grinned and jumped off her throne. I very nearly jerked away from her. “You sneaky little spy you. How does a candy maker get to be a spy, anyway?”

“I’m… not actually a candy maker,” I admitted. “Well, I guess I am, I’ve been doing that for years, but that’s not really my talent. Just practice and patience.”

“So that’s not a real cutie mark, either?” Lyra danced around me, to stare at my flank. “You’ve been hiding it from me for years and I never noticed a thing! Does it come off?” she added, scraping at the mark with a hoof.

“No, it doesn’t come off,” I sighed, moving my rump out of reach. “Quit scratching me, it’s my real cutie mark. It just doesn’t mean what everypony thinks it does.”

“Oh?” Lyra suddenly bounced up to wrap around my neck. “So what does it mean, m-m-m?”

One thing I know about Lyra’s moods is that they can go away just as quickly as they turn up. “My real talent is sweet talking,” I smiled at her. “They recruited me straight out of school when I got caught cheating on the finals and talked my way out of it.”

“Oh you naughty girl,” Lyra nuzzled my cheek. “So what’s your real name, then?”

I jerked. “That alien princess sure told you a lot of things, how does she know all that?”

Lyra let me go and shrugged. “No idea. Other worlds? She can read thoughts, you know. It’s like she hears if you think in words.”

That’s certainly something to pass on to the ponies downstairs. As if the humans didn’t have us in a twist already. “That’s kind of bad news, you know,” I said.

“I’m sure she’s not actually evil, so it’s okay,” Lyra replied and suddenly switched gears. “So what’s your real name? And will you say you would have to kill me if you told me?”

Now that’s just childish. “No,” I said, making a frowny face. Sometimes, if I try to dissuade her early, it works.

“Oh ple-e-ease?” Lyra whined. “Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“Oh all right,” I sighed, putting on my best serious expression. “I would tell you. But then I would have to kill you.”

“Damn, I need a fainting couch,” Lyra said, looking around, but none of the props in this dark and cluttered storeroom resembled one even remotely. “You don’t understand how romantic it sounds when you say that, do you?”

“It’s not fun and games, you know,” I scowled at her. “I’ve literally been to Tartarus a dozen times on this job.”

“You, my lovely Bon-bon, have no eye for romance what-so-ever,” she replied, stomping her hoof.

“Sweetie Drops.”

“What?” she blinked.

“My real name is Sweetie Drops,” I repeated. “You can even call me that, if you like. Just don’t do it in public, or I really might have to kill you. I’m kind of responsible for you, now. Got a mountain of paperwork, too. I’m supposed to welcome you to Equestria and everything.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Lyra asked, raising her eyebrows.

One thing I’m sure of, Lyra is just as genuine as she is transparent. They tried to make me doubt her, but I just bit my tongue and ignored them. “Well, are you really from around here?” I inquired. “The bosses downstairs don’t think so.”

She made the cutest pouty face I’ve seen for the entire month. “And what do you think?”

“I have decided that I don’t care,” I stated with a proud smile. “As long as you’re the same Lyra Heartstrings I always knew, to me, it doesn’t matter.” Because it really doesn’t, and anypony who disagrees can go fishing in Tartarus.

Lyra hopped onto the throne to sit on the edge, dangling her legs down like they’re double-jointed, and scraped at the back of her head with a hoof, lips curled in yet another stupid grin ponies were never meant to achieve. “Philosophically, I’m probably not. I mean, I didn’t even know you when I first met you, right? I should be continuous with the Lyra Heartstrings that you met originally, but I don’t know if I’m very same before that. Can’t tell. Unless you kept me under surveillance since school, or something.” She threw a pleading glance at me. “Did you? Cause I’m not really sure anymore, honest.”

“Well, you convinced me, anyway,” I said, climbing onto the throne next to her to ruffle her mane. “Only my Lyra would say something so silly.”

Lyra flashed a smile. “Now tell me, what brought this on!”

I stared at her. “You’re doing it right now. Somepony noticed.”

“Doing what?” she wondered, tilting her head sideways at me and propping it up with a hoof.

“That!” I pointed. “Even minotaurs don’t sit like that.”

“So who does?” Lyra prompted.

“Humans do,” I stated. “Don’t tell me you never noticed.”

“I’m wondering why you never told me before, actually,” she said, stretching out on the throne next to me, which suddenly made her look a lot more normal. “Grandma Daisy Fisher used to sit like that all the time. She used to tell me stories… I was very impressionable when I was a filly, so I copied everything, even the mane cut.”

“Your great-grandparents sure had a weird sense of humor,” I commented. “Who ever heard of fishing for daisies?!”

“Maybe they had,” Lyra shrugged, “Nopony knows who they were.”

“How does that work?” I wondered. The chances are infinitesimal. Their Highnesses’ Civil Service is royally strict about those records, I lost count of all the strings the old goat pulled to make them lose mine.

“No idea. I asked, but she always dodged the question,” Lyra sighed, “Mother just told me that one day, a pegasus filly came out of the Everfree forest and stumbled into Sweet Apple Acres. Had no cutie mark yet, could barely fly, and the only thing she could remember was her name. They never found her parents.”

“Strange.” And bordering on weird, but that’s Everfree for you.

Lyra grinned ear to ear. “And she used to fish for daisies. She’d park a cloud over her flowerbed, sit on the edge and try to hook daisies up. I always wanted to sit there with her.”

I planted a hoof into my face. “Now I know why you turned into a human. Your entire family is just plain crazy like Pinkie Pie!” Her mother is also a unicorn. And she’s a skydiving instructor up in Cloudsdale.

Lyra laughed. “No, I just was there at the wrong place, the wrong time, galloping all over the city looking for you, worried I’d never see you again, and that human princess suddenly pulls me by the tail into some kind of hole in reality and offers power, just so that I can fix everything,” she said, tapping the crystal dangling on a thin chain off her neck. “Now I have a new friend. Grayswandir, meet Sweetie Drops, also known as Bon-Bon. She’s my very special somepony spy. Be nice and try not to turn her into anything.”

The crystal remained very nonchalantly silent.

“Wait, so you did it… just for me?” I suddenly realized, and felt my ears press tightly to my head.

“No,” Lyra shook her head. “I would. But she said that if I don’t have a different reason, she’s going to pick somepony else.”

“Why would she even care for your reasons?” I wondered. “Something’s fishy here.”

“I think it was important to her. She needed me to have a particular reason,” Lyra replied. “It’s all about the rules of storytelling. Do you know what every author really wants out of life?”

“Hmm… Fame and fortune?” I offered, but immediately realized that if anything, that’s something Lyra herself never actually wanted. She wanted her poems to be popular, but she never wanted to be popular. Back when her career in musical theater was just starting, she used to hide in a closet at the sound of a camera. “No idea. I’m no scholarship student, you know that.”

“Are you sure?” she grinned provocatively at me.

Today’s the day when every lie comes back to bite me. “You went to Princess Celestia’s school. Just trying to imagine what kind of horse-apples would I have to tell to do that gives me a headache,” I replied. All true, once again. “So, if not fame and fortune, what?”

“It’s not like I never wanted these things,” she admitted grudgingly and rolled around on the seat. “But I’m sure that deep inside, what every author of every story really wants is to tell the universe how things should be, and have it listen. You don’t tell stories to say how it really happened, that would be news. You tell them because you hope to change the world.”

I felt a sudden itch in my cutie mark.

“And the universe doesn’t like to listen. It took equinity over a thousand years to finally build a world where most things work like they should.” Lyra made a poignant pause. “We take it for granted now, but objectively, it’s still a very, very small world. Tiny. When the humans came… I don’t know about you, but I was reminded just how tiny it really is.”

“So you just thought that if you had something to kick the universe in the teeth with, you could make it bigger?” I wondered.

“Yes,” Lyra agreed. “That, and I realized something very important when I saw you out on the street.”

“Oh?” I prompted. That’s the sort of thing she says when she’s struck by inspiration. If I don’t let her procrastinate, in a month or two, something beautiful is usually born.

“That I can’t be the one to protect you, and shouldn’t try,” she told me with a very serious face. “All I can really hope for, all I should hope for, is to be more like you.”

I turned away, because I felt my cheeks heat up. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve spent my entire life lying through every obstacle and smashing those I couldn’t lie my way through. That’s… that’s not something decent ponies should want.”

Lyra giggled, twirling my tail around her hoof. “Who said I was a decent pony? I think I’m positively indecent!”

I facehoofed so hard, it almost hurt.

“So-o… are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Lyra chirped, jumping up.

Well, I’m sure I have an idea. “With chocolate chips and strawberry?”

“Yes!”

Author's Note

You’ve been asking why the relationship between Bon-Bon and Lyra was never mentioned in the OSI report.

Because they were planning to keep track of Lyra themselves, of course. :) And yes, The Shop is what the agents call the place, because the official designation changes every few moons. After all, it’s in the basement of the Harness department store, somewhere…

P.S. For the record: “Celestia Superstar” is a semi-canonical musical, mentioned in My Little Pony #42 – a poster for it turns up on a wall.

Conversation 30: Moondancer

“I’m sorry, but the only copy we have is from the reserves, and that has been checked out,” the librarian told me.

“Oh,” I replied.

The reading room was nearly empty, which only happens once in a blue moon, and I was looking forward to a productive day of studying without the huge doors slamming every fifteen minutes and breaking my concentration. But now it has been ruined just like everything else.

“Aw, don’t be so sad,” she said. Is there something on my face? “See that mare at the far table by the shelves? She’s the one who checked it out. Don’t you two know each other? Perhaps you could share it.”

I sighed. “Thanks,” I muttered, and turned around to trot towards the table. In truth, I was not sure I could recognize the mare. There wasn’t much there to recognize, as her face was obscured so completely by the stacks of books on her table, that I couldn’t even see her mane color.

“Excuse me?” I whispered. There was no reply for a moment. I softly tapped the table with a hoof.

“Sorry, did you say something?” a whisper came back, and the owner of the whisper peeked at me from between the stacks of books with a very familiar bloodshot eye of a pony who was using coffee and donuts to replace sleep entirely for the past few days.

I recoiled in surprise. That was certainly a face I knew. That was a face I was working on forgetting. I was actually making progress, and seeing it again undid all that progress in an instant.

Have you come back to hurt me again, Twilight Sparkle?

“You took out the only copy of ‘Neighomachean Ethics,’” I whispered back, collecting myself. I’m not going to show it. I’m going to pretend I didn’t recognize you and maybe, the problem will go away. “I was hoping that you’re done with it.”

“Not yet, I’m sorry,” Twilight smiled apologetically. “But I certainly don’t mind sharing it… And since you seem to be a fellow scholar of philosophy, would you mind helping me with a hypothetical problem?”

I felt my eyebrow twitch. Looks like she didn’t recognize me at all. Should I be happy about that?… Whatever. Let me just answer her stupid question and maybe I get the book. “What kind of a problem?”

Twilight bit her lip. “Imagine, that you have in your possession an absolute dark magic neutralizer, capable of purifying anything, and a pony who was turned by dark magic into something hostile and malicious, who declares an intent to conquer Equestria, but isn’t doing much right now…” she started.

Ah, that kind of hypothetical. I think I know where this is going. “It takes a very special kind of philosopher to wonder if it is ethical to liberate a pony who was corrupted into evil.” In practice, most questions are about the reliability of reformation spells, not about the ethics of their application.

She sighed, “Yes, I’ve read ‘Alternatives to Punishment’ too. But imagine that here, you have somepony so evil, that they won’t survive the purification. Not in any kind of philosophical sense, not in terms of identity, but literally. What remains once the dark magic is removed will be incapable of sustaining life.”

“That’s just another version of the trolley problem,” I replied. “The one where if you don’t pull the lever, five ponies die, but if you do pull the lever, one pony dies. There is no good solution, you just have to choose something and accept the responsibility. Seeing as you’re including ‘Neighomachean Ethics’ in your research, that’s not all of it, I presume,” I said. Back in Aristrotle’s time, ponies would still occasionally wage war against other ponies, and when faced with this sort of question, they would just pick the lesser evil and roll with it, instead of debating the ethics of the choice itself.

“Yes,” she nodded. “And here’s the catch: To use the absolute neutralizer, you need the agreement of your five close friends. You know that they support your decision, whatever it is, but you’re the one making the decision, and you don’t even have an opportunity to ask them, the decision needs to be made right now.”

“Uh-huh,” I nodded again.

“So, assuming that you decide to use it…” she paused to rub an eye with her fetlock. “Is it ethical to do this to your friends or not?”

I felt my heart skip a beat and every word I knew fail me, simultaneously. How… How dare she?! I spent some time fishing for something to answer with, but she didn’t even seem to notice. Finally, taking a very deep breath, I told her, “I think I know the correct answer. But first, let me present you with my own hypothetical.”

“Sure,” she agreed. “You never know what gives you a new idea.”

I made the sweetest fake smile that I could. I’m not sure I can get back at her with that. I’m not sure it’s the right thing to do. But if I am to ever get some closure, I need to try, and then, I can get back to studying and put the whole thing behind me.

“So imagine that you have a friend,” I started, feeling the unwanted rage slowly but surely well up somewhere inside. “One of the few ponies who is capable of understanding you on an intellectual level, and if there is anypony whose approval you would rather have, that would be hers.”

She perked her ears up, whispering, “Oh, a friendship problem!”

I ignored that, and continued, “Some of your former classmates are pressuring you into social activities you find no comfort in, and you finally give in. You decide to have a birthday party they advise, in hopes that your friend likes it. Public picnic in a park, table full of sweets, everything, even though it causes you considerable anxiety. But you still do it, because everypony insists that is how ponies should be friends.”

She nodded vigorously. She thinks it’s just a distraction from her own problem. No, Twilight, this has been my problem, and now I will make it yours.

“Your friend promises to come, and then, she never does,” I continued. “Trying to figure out what’s wrong, you try to get in touch again, but find that she moved away without even saying goodbye.” Twilight’s ears drooped slightly, and I felt grim satisfaction mixing in with the rage. “Moons pass, and you’re counting every hour, but she never even writes. You try to forget the embarrassment and move on.”

“That’s… a very sad story, but it doesn’t sound like a hypothetical problem,” she commented, blinking her sleepy eyes. Did I hear that voice waver, or was it just my imagination?

“It’s not done yet,” I replied, trying my best to keep my own voice level and neutral. “Moons pass, and suddenly, you bump into her in a public place. She acts like a total stranger, and doesn’t even recognize you. And then… then she asks you a hypothetical question about friendship. What should you do?”

She looked away. I can almost hear the gears grinding. “I… I would probably be very angry with her. I would demand she tell me her reasons, at least.”

“Well, Twilight Sparkle!” I shouted, slamming my hooves into her table and sending the books flying. “Tell me your reasons, you traitor!”

I don’t think I will ever forget that face, now. The look of being shaken awake, the slowly dawning realization, the recollection, the pupils reducing to a tiny point, the mane hairs curling up as the ears fold. For a moment, I finally felt happy. I hated myself for it, but it was worth it.

Until tears welled up in her eyes and fell down in a near literal torrent. “I’m sorry!” Twilight wailed, slamming her head into the table, and splattering me.

I expected a lot of reactions. Excuses, denials, or even an actual explanation, I always knew her to be a rational pony, so that’s not out of the question, but this… This, I did not expect. I threw a glance in the direction of the librarian, expecting to see her stomping towards us with a stern face, asking us to vacate the premises – that would be really bad – but instead, found her hiding behind her counter and peeking at us. I might have to find another library. I liked it here so much…

“I’m sorry,” Twilight continued sobbing, and looking at her, suddenly, all my anger at her evaporated like a drop of liquid oxygen. I’ve seen a lot of Twilight Sparkle. I have seen her triumphant, frustrated to the point of hysterics, happy and sad over things nopony but us two cared about, or even understood, excited to explain something she just read ten minutes ago, annoyed at ponies breaking her out of her zone. I have never, ever, seen Twilight’s admission of defeat. Twilight doesn’t do defeat.

Until now.

“Don’t cry… please, just don’t cry,” I whispered. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled like that. I… I forgive you.” I’m not entirely sure what these words truly mean. Learned them sometime in my fillyhood and never really paused to grasp the deeper meaning. I’m not sure anypony else does either. But at least… “I just want to know why,” I said.

But she kept weeping, with no sign of stopping. For a few seconds, I fought the impulse to just grab the book and go somewhere else, but eventually I quelled it and sat on the bench beside her to wait.

It took her at least three more minutes to finally calm down. And when she did, her first words, punctuated by desperate sniffles, were, “My story wasn’t really a hypothetical, either.”

My eyebrows twitched. “You mean to say you have an actual absolute dark magic neutralizer?” No such thing exists. And the Twilight I know wouldn’t lie to me like that. Which leaves only one reasonable option, she must have gone insane.

That would explain a lot of things, but it’s also unfalsifiable.

“Not exactly. But that’s one of the things the Elements of Harmony do,” she replied plainly.

The Royal Scientific Society devoted an entire monograph of articles to everything that had to do with the return of Princess Luna, they even had reports from the few wizards who were permitted to examine the relics. Suddenly her statement seemed much less implausible. She is Princess Celestia’s personal student. She could probably get to examine them just by asking.

“Still sounds very hypothetical,” I said. “Who would that evil pony be?”

“Chrysalis, queen of the changelings.”

“The who?” I couldn’t believe my ears. “Aren’t they extinct?”

Twilight looked at me suspiciously. “…Just where did you spend last Friday night?”

“Studying at home,” I replied. “There was some kind of loud celebration outside, and somepony knocked on my door, but I decided I deserve a break and didn’t open.”

Only when I closed my mouth, I realized. Dents on my front door. Emergency workers in the streets. Broken windows. Tarpaulins. My favorite library, empty. “What did you choose?” I asked, my voice trembling against my will.

“I hesitated,” Twilight whispered and looked at me, “And she killed my brother.”

She couldn’t look more like a stereotypical madpony from a Third Celestial Era romance if she tried, right now, with those bloodshot eyes and coat messed up by tears.

“I’m… sorry,” I said, not sure how to react.

“…and then his fiancée brought him back from the dead with the power of love,” Twilight concluded.

The absurdity boggles the mind. And yet… I still cannot believe Twilight would just lie to me.

Twilight sank onto the table. “I remember now. I didn’t want to go to your party. I didn’t know what they’re for. So when I got a mission from Princess Celestia, I just… forgot about it.”

I sank onto the table next to her. How stupid I was. “I should have never listened to Minuette,” I mumbled. “She was so sure you would like that party…”

“Not back then,” Twilight said. “But on that mission, I met five wonderful ponies and together, we found the Elements of Harmony and defeated Nightmare Moon with the magic of friendship.”

Magic?…

I looked at her from the corner of my eye. “So those ‘six heroic civilians who wish to remain anonymous’ were…?”

“Princess Celestia personally asked the editors of every Canterlot newspaper to keep our names out of it,” Twilight confirmed. “I’ve been living in Ponyville since, and it’s been eventful like you wouldn’t believe. I still have my regular coursework, but I’ve got an entirely new field of study on my hooves, and it’s like the world conspires to twist my perception of reality every week. Usually, on Tuesdays. And by the end of the week, I had to send in a detailed report.”

She reached into her messenger bag for a hankie and tried to clean her face. It didn’t help much. “The last couple of months were particularly hectic. We fought Discord… We won, in the end, but it got really bad. I missed a deadline on that report, Pinkie was trying so hard to make us smile that she forgot her own birthday, Applejack nearly got her little sister eaten by a chimera, Fluttershy tried to attend a self-improvement seminar and scared half the town…” She glanced at me. “…I sound crazy, don’t I? If I mention that I met myself from the future, the mess we made of the Grand Galloping Gala, or the aliens… It’s so crazy when you tell it all like that.”

I covered my face with my hooves and said nothing. All my problems seem so petty, now.

“I know that’s not really an excuse,” Twilight said after a pause. “In a way, all of that was unavoidable, but that’s not really an excuse, either. I… just want to make it up to you, somehow. It feels like I went away on some grand adventure and just… left you by the wayside. Just… Can we start this meeting over? What were you doing all this time?”

“Studying,” I muttered, without peeking out. “Minuette and Twinkleshine still try to invite me to something or other, and I wish they would just stop.”

I could practically feel her stare on my skin. “Partying isn’t the only thing you can do with friends,” she said. “That’s one of the important things I learned while being friends with such different ponies.”

“Well, I don’t have any friends who like studying,” I snapped at her.

“Would you like one?” Twilight replied, not flinching. “Because I still want to be your friend, if I you let me.”

Now that is a bit more like the Twilight I remember.

“Yes,” I said.

Her response was wrapping me up in a hug with a happy smile. “Oh, and happy really, really late birthday.”

I adjusted the glasses she nearly knocked off me. “Thanks…” That felt much better than it had any right to feel. “I suppose you want my answer to your ‘hypothetical’ too, now.”

“…So you actually have one?”

“Yes,” I replied. “In the end, your amendment is irrelevant. It’s still the trolley problem with all the caveats. Since your friends have already delegated their decisions to you, they already share in the result and the responsibility, no matter what you choose. And not doing anything is a choice, too.”

She squeezed me tighter, and for a moment, I felt like she’s holding on to me so that the wind won’t blow her away.

Taking into account everything she said, she probably was.

Author's Note

A note on chronology:

In this Equestria, events depicted in the episodes did not occur in the airing order of episodes, as you should know by now. They occurred in an order that makes sense. But no matter which chronology theory you decide on, the meeting in Amending Fences happened at least two years after Twilight left for Ponyville.

As of this chapter, only about nine months passed since Twilight was invited to that unfortunate party, and for Twilight, they were densely packed with events, many of them extraordinary.

For Moondancer, they were a never ending string of Tuesdays.

Conversation 31: Rarity

Fluttershy stared at Mary intently. “You don’t seem to be eating well, Mary,” she said in a concerned tone, sending shivers of fear down my spine.

She was wearing the new dress I made her for the wedding, the first actual entry in the Spirits of Hearth’s Warming line after Mary’s rushed prototype, in soft, very subdued green that goes so well with her mane, and I was worried I have finally crossed a line with my art, creating something ponies were never meant to wear.

On one hoof, this was the first time I have seen Fluttershy actually desire to wear anything, her freaky knowledge of sewing notwithstanding. She wanted to wear that new dress – not because she needed it for warmth, nor because it was expected of her to be dressed for the occasion, but because she enjoyed it. I had no more doubt whatsoever that the project is a success, one that will influence the world of fashion for generations to come.

But on the other hoof… Fluttershy’s Stare has always been a fearsome ability that I had some difficulty understanding, even though Twilight tried to explain how it works, citing numerous historical examples. Some poorly studied aspect of cutie mark magic. Coupled with the variable light pattern of the dress, even regular, perfectly innocent glances could now occasionally transmit the full brunt of this crushing motherly authority if Fluttershy had any reason to care about you. Sweet, kind Fluttershy cares for everypony, even when she is too shy to open her mouth about it. This scared the living daylights out of me twice this morning alone, and only Mary, mirroring the green with her gray, appeared entirely unaffected.

“Eating is bad for you,” Mary retorted didactically, raising the fork with a cherry tomato on it. Her way of dealing with Fluttershy’s concern was, evidently, to break her train of thought with absurdities. “It makes you satiated.”

Fluttershy’s eyebrows went up. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Not really,” Mary grinned. “It instills a false sense of well-being and hope for the future.”

Fluttershy froze with her mouth open for a moment. “It’s not healthy to be so negative,” she admonished finally.

“Maybe not,” Mary agreed. “But I find that it increases survival rates rather dramatically, when it doesn’t kill you.”

The real Princess Cadance proved to be one of the nicest ponies I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, even despite the ordeal she had just suffered through. With the events of that fateful night now firmly behind us, Pinkie Pie was now busier than ever, as her wedding reception doubled up into “Victory Celebration Party” and the guest list ballooned to the point where they were considering abandoning it entirely, to have the celebration open for any and all comers. Certainly, the city needed that, after that dreadful invasion.

Applejack, faced with the need to do much of the work involved in catering all over again, and a lot more of it this time, was likewise occupied, and had to summon even more cousins to help. I never imagined a family can possibly be so large. Rainbow Dash was out flying circles around the city tirelessly, still upset about her role in the events and blaming herself unjustly for the perceived failures. Spikey spent day after day hanging around Princes Cadance and Shining Armor, taking over much of Twilight’s duties, while Twilight herself was dealing with the shock of the events in her usual manner, by burying herself in a library. None of us had succeeded in prying her out of there so far.

But my and Fluttershy’s work was mostly done, and since we found ourselves with few opportunities to assist our friends in their tasks, we had a moment to relax and enjoy our lunch together with Mary. And while Mary was politely pretending she is enjoying it, the nagging dread was unmistakable even in a creature as different as a human.

“You don’t have to fear, nopony is going to hurt you,” Fluttershy insisted softly.

“That’s not it, Fluttershy. Hanging around Rika for long enough kind of dulls the experience,” Mary replied cryptically. “But most of this massacre happened because I wasn’t negative enough, which was a mistake.” She stared towards Fluttershy, and Fluttershy pulled back a tiny bit, folding her ears. “I’m used to thinking that correcting my mistakes is the way to go, and I don’t have that option here.”

“Some mistakes can never be corrected, darling,” I commented. “You apologize and move on. It is far more important that you wished everypony well, for most right-thinking ponies, that is more than enough.”

Mary turned to me, almost stabbing me with the glance of her golden eye. “The range of mistakes that can be corrected expands a lot when you have a time machine. I never accounted for the fact that once Chrysalis is faced with the Elements of Harmony, killing Shining Armor is the easiest way to disable them. And I did not notice this, because I imagined that every creature in Equestria is inherently less capable of murder than I am. In more accessible terms, I failed at what you would call my special talent.”

Oh. That did put things in perspective and made me shudder mentally. Just what sort of twisted horror story really is going on in her head?

“What would have happened if we didn’t know anything?” I wondered.

“A miracle,” Mary replied simply. “But a very different one. Twilight voices her concerns, but finds no support among you. Chrysalis manipulates her into making a public scene, and once everypony turns away from Twilight because of it, tosses her into one room with Cadance.”

Fluttershy gasped in shock, covering her mouth with her hooves. I remember that this was exactly the eventuality that scared her the most.

“They escape, arrive just in time for the vows,” Mary continued, “and Cadance breaks the mind control on Shining Armor with the power of love. Then they use it to fuel his shield spell and expel the entire changeling army out of the city in about three seconds. Don’t ask me how that works, by the way, I have no idea.”

Frankly, I don’t either. But while I am versed in love and romance, I’m not the alicorn princess of such, and I would really hate having to cut wing slits into all my dresses. “Surely, there are a lot of ways this miracle could have failed to be,” I noticed. “What makes you think it was possible at all?”

Mary stabbed the fork into her salad and left it standing. “This is not my story,” she intoned, looking at the fork. “Before I arrived, it was a story of the rivalry between Twilight and Trixie. Which could not have happened if this wedding failed, so I knew that without me influencing it, the wedding would have turned out well.”

“I don’t know, I think it’s shaping up nicely,” a voice said behind my back. Turning around, I saw the drab black of Rika’s dress, and my senses were assaulted with the faint aroma of her horrible perfume. I really need to talk to her about that, but truth be told, I don’t have the courage. Especially after hearing what Twilight had to say about her.

Mary stared at Rika’s face. “Flash Sentry.”

The only reply she got was a raised eyebrow.

“You just went and dropped a magical girl into the mix, consigned a pony to never ending unforeseen consequences, and that still wasn’t enough. I told you, that when this mess is over, I will start every conversation with listing the ponies who died,” Mary stated, pointing a finger at Rika. “Royal Guard, private Flash Sentry.”

A creepy grin spread across Rika’s face. “Could you repeat that?”

Instead of answering, Mary reached for her fork, clutching it in her hand as if she were about to stab somepony with it.

“Yes, I just like the sound,” Rika elaborated, her grin growing wider. Evidently, she could not hold it anymore, because she started laughing. If you can call that sound laughing. Even the horrible, melodramatic laughter of the changeling queen wasn’t so unnatural and broken.

“So you’re telling me,” she said, when she was finally done, which couldn’t have come sooner, “that the only pony who actually died was Flash Sentry? The waifu-stealer? The ship sinker? The most universally hated character in the entire tree?”

“What are you talking about?” Mary mumbled, letting go of her fork in confusion.

“Flash Sentry,” Rika said, leaning over my head and nearly brushing my horn with her chest, pressing herself towards Mary’s face, “is Twilight’s designated love interest. While he is even more decoherent than the changelings, most iterations have all the personality of a cardboard box, and at least half of them are designated victims. Guess why.”

Mary choked for words.

I took it as my cue to softly poke Rika with my horn to get her to move. “Do you mind not doing that?” I said.

“Sorry,” Rika grinned at me, before straightening out.

But I wasn’t done, not by far. “Not only you come and go without even a greeting, Rika, that would probably be expecting too much,” I said, getting off my chair to stand between her and Mary. “But what you just said was exceedingly uncouth. The least you could do is respect the dead!” I couldn’t understand half the words she used, but I was sure most of them were quite derogatory.

“Really,” Rika replied with a playful grin.

“Yes, really!” I replied, raising my voice and stomping a hoof. “You should not talk like that about a pony you haven’t even met!”

“What makes you think I haven’t?” Rika countered.

“Even if you have,” I exclaimed, “even if the stallion is indeed guilty of any crime on the high seas, it is not your place to say that, not after he died in the defense of the city!”

“That’s not what ‘ship sinker’ means,” Rika replied, grinning wider, “but whatever, I’ll come back later.”

I am not entirely unused to being photographed, so the haze from the flash of her passing cleared from my eyes quickly. “Pardon me for my outburst,” I said, returning to my chair and taking a look at Fluttershy, who was peeking at us, half-hidden under the table.

“I’m sure she just got something wrong,” Fluttershy muttered, climbing back into her chair. “They would never let a pirate join the Royal Guard.”

“I don’t see Twilight being interested in that type of pony, either,” I agreed. “She’s a late bloomer, our dear Twilight. She’s going to meet her special somepony deep within Canterlot Archives after going for days without food and water, stumbling onto a fellow lost scholar. It will be love forged in an adventure of survival within the desert of knowledge and paper dust. Rika must be thinking of some other Flash Sentry.”

That brought a smile onto Fluttershy’s muzzle, but Mary just sighed, rubbing her face with her hands. “These terms really don’t have anything to do with the sea or theft, Rarity,” she mumbled. “Just another linguistic collision.”

I felt a pinch in my heart. At least, “designated love interest” remains quite obvious. “So he was… just a Royal Guard? Somepony Twilight was fated to meet and fall in love with, and now he’s dead, and she will never even know?”

“No. Imagine that Twilight is mutually in love with a pony, who, by all accounts, does not deserve her, cannot possibly make her happy, and doesn’t match her at all, but they’re going through the motions like clockwork anyway, for no observable reason,” Mary explained. “That’s what Rika actually meant. You don’t compare a worthy stallion to a cardboard box, do you?” She sighed again, found her fork, and viciously stabbed another cherry tomato with it.

“Sweet Celestia, how dreadful that sounds,” I muttered.

“There is too much I don’t know,” Mary commented, looking at the tomato on her fork. “I didn’t even know the name until I saw it in the papers. But given what we just heard, I can at least assure you Twilight would have never met him. Not in this world. Chances are, he would be dead well before his time even if the invasion was somehow avoided.”

“That’s… so sad,” Fluttershy whispered.

“It might be, but it’s a fact,” Mary replied, biting the tomato off her fork. “And given that it was the story of a rivalry between Trixie and Twilight, I’d say Trixie has better chances anyway.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Mary,” I smiled at her. “There’s no way under Celestia’s sun that would ever work.” That strumpet has neither style nor manners, and I doubt Twilight has it in her to forgive the destruction of priceless ancient literature easily.

Mary glanced at me out of the corner of her blue eye, the barest hint of mischievous grin appearing on her face. “It did, somewhere out there.”

“You keep thinking about the most horrifying things,” I said with my best friendly smile. “Lighten up, darling. There might be a time when you have to be as negative as can be, but that time is not right now.”

Mary just shrugged and scooped up a forkful of her salad.

For a few minutes, we ate in silence, until Fluttershy finally decided to break it. “Mary… If that’s alright with you… could you tell me, what did Rika do to make you so angry?” she asked. “Promising to keep reminding her of the ponies who died sounds… so mean.”

“She knew you were outside the door when she asked me about the invasion, and she knew you could hear everything,” Mary replied with no hesitation. “That was her best attempt at being devious. She sucks at it.”

“Oh.” Fluttershy sank in her chair.

“There’s a human language, in which the words for ‘monster’ and ‘miracle’ share the same root,” Mary continued. “Rika likes to mention that, because she thinks it describes her particularly well. But much of the time, there’s more of a monster in there.”

What a ridiculous combination.

Author's Note

I blame Mr. Numbers for coming up with the idea originally, just so you know.

That said, has anyone seen the actual body?…

Conversation 32: Mary

The night air was thick with pegasi and confetti, and apparently, a substantial proportion of the pegasi were blind drunk already.

Your special day
We celebrate now, the pony way
Your friends are all right here
Won’t let these moments disappear because…

Judging by the number of ponies singing along with Twilight, this was yet another heartsong. So far, the count was up to three, with one of Shining Armor’s groomsmen… groomsponies… groomstallions?… starting the first, and one of the bridesmaids starting the second. Pinkie was zipping around at speeds rivaling Rainbow Dash, because they literally invited the entire city, and most of it actually did show up. After two low altitude Sonic Rainbooms with only four seconds between them, which caused premature detonation of about half the fireworks, only the dead wouldn’t.

Why is it bridesmaids, and not bridesmares, anyway?

The wedding cake was so big, that hollowed out, it could comfortably house a family of two with children. It’s a good thing ponies don’t seem to particularly enjoy wedding speeches, or we’d be here all the way into the next week. My primary discovery of the day, beyond the fact that a Sonic Rainboom is on the short list of things that blind the golden eye for more than a minute, was a bottle of salt liquor, which turned out to be one of the local distilled spirits of choice, next to applejack and whiskey.

It’s a shame that I get all the benefits of a hangover without actually getting noticeably drunk, but at least it relaxes the muscles.

“Me next!” Lyra yelled from the next table over, when Twilight came back.

“Sit down,” her date interrupted. “You’re not singing anything unless stone cold sober.”

“I am sober!” Lyra retorted.

“No you aren’t.”

Rarity giggled, “I must admit, Bon-Bon, you look more dashing in a tuxedo than most stallions. Why, I am positively charmed.”

“Mine!”

“Blame our one-pony engine of destruction here,” Bon-Bon commented, “I even had a dress prepared, but she insisted I get a tuxedo at the last minute.”

“I still can’t understand how you could get so scatterbrained, Twilight,” Moondancer said. “Lyra lives in Ponyville, just how could you miss that?!”

I was surprised to find that Twilight had any proper friends in Canterlot in the first place, let alone five, not to mention that Lyra turned out to be one of them. More than that, I was surprised to see a pony who looked like Twilight’s twin that gravely angered the Wizard of Oz. The only significant difference between them beyond the coloration were the exceedingly bushy eyebrows. And glasses, which badly needed a replacement. And that sweater…

Rarity was so shocked to see the sweater, that she dragged Moondancer away by force the very moment they got introduced. They didn’t turn up for an entire day, and when they were back, the poor girl was sporting the newest selective visibility dress, together with elegant wire-rimmed glasses and neatly styled hair. Unfortunately I didn’t get to talk to her much after that, because she kept hiding behind Fluttershy and other non-threatening objects ever since, only starting to peek out after a generous dose of hard cider.

Bored Rarity is just about as dangerous as frustrated Twilight.

“I have no idea, myself,” Twilight replied, folding her ears in shame. “I just want to say this once again, I’m very sorry, Lyra.”

“Eh, I didn’t know you were Shining Armor’s little sister, we’re even,” Lyra waved a hoof dismissively, bumping a glass off the table. The glass was immediately caught in the glow of somepony’s magic. “You keep galloping from one adventure straight into another, it’s fun to watch.”

“Having fun, everypony?” Cadance’s voice rang out as she and Shining Armor approached. Twilight found a piece of paper on the table and crossed out a checkbox.

“Ye-e-s!” they chorused.

Most of them.

“Tis’ most exciting to finally see thee in the flesh,” someone whispered right above my ear. Luna, of course. With her dropping in on my “dreams” three times since I arrived, the voice is even familiar. “No, no, do not get up,” she added, dropping a pillow across the table from my chair, “We… ah, I, have had more than enough of our own citizens bowing for today.”

“If you say so,” I replied, locating a fresh glass and filling it with the salt liquor. “Pardon me if I’m committing any social transgression by offering, but shall we toast the happy couple?”

“This night is a time for celebration, so you do hereby have a royal pardon for any offenses committed unwillingly in sincere pursuit of such!” Luna replied, picking the glass up and clinking it on mine. “May Cadance and Shining Armor live happily ever after!” she proclaimed.

The toast was met with a smile from both mentioned, but they quickly went back to the murmur of conversation at the next table over.

“You are taking the celebration quite seriously, I see,” Luna commented, eyeing the bottle of salt liquor. Half-empty. “I was told champagne is the customary drink for a wedding, in this day and age.”

“I’ve had all manner of champagne over the years, this is new,” I replied. “And speaking of celebration, I think you will find I’m less intoxicated than, for example, those two,” I added, nodding in the direction of two dancing ponies.

The particular ponies in question were Prince Blueblood and Trixie, who both sported reddened cheeks, and moved with that grace you only find in people who are perpetually one misstep away from falling over.

“My sister was not particularly pleased with this development,” Luna commented. “Poor boy is excited to meet a mare who cares not for his rank and station, but in truth, her interest in him is marginal indeed. Alas, I had no opportunity to educate my student from an early age.”

“They do seem to be getting on well, though,” I commented. “You heard about the cart, I expect?”

“I have,” Luna nodded. “But verily, Trixie Lulamoon will follow Twilight Sparkle to the ends of the Earth, and there is naught he can do about it.”

“I don’t think this will be that much of a problem, if he is content with pulling her cart to those ends,” I said. “That would be interesting to watch, at least.”

“Tis’ true indeed,” Luna chortled, “A noble prince pulling a cart is a sight for sore eyes. Back in my day…” she trailed off. “It is so strange to find myself saying that, ‘back in my day,’ as if my days are over and done, and yet, I can find no other way to say it.”

“I used to do that all the bloody time,” I concurred. “Thinking of time as distance helps, so can I offer ‘back when and where I was born’ as an alternative?”

“It still makes me feel old!” Luna complained. “I am the younger sister, am I not?”

Not an issue I would expect a demigod with at least three hundred years worth of personal timeline to have. Certainly, not the kind of issue Rika has, and by my estimates, she’s just about that old. I wonder, how does Celestia feel about her age.

Instead of voicing that, I replied with a platitude I originally cooked up for myself. “You’re only officially old when, after consuming a work of fiction depicting a character of your age, instead of daydreaming of asking them something you wish you knew, you daydream about telling them something you know too bloody well.﻿”

Luna laughed. “Verily, I would be hard pressed to locate such a work of fiction!”

“Don’t count on it,” I countered, “While you were out, ponies discovered science fiction and heroic fantasy. Characters of your age bracket turn up often. It’s not like the pony civilization doesn’t have the history of you two for an example, after all.”

“Indeed?” Luna looked at me curiously. “Tell me, then. To you, our realm is a work of fiction, is it not? So which is it that you are daydreaming of?”

“I think I’m still asking questions,” I shrugged. “Might have more to do with not sharing much experience with ponies, though.”

“Just like at the Gala, you’re hogging the new and interesting guests and dragging them off into dark corners, Luna,” someone accused next to the table. Celestia. We did finally get introduced earlier today, but she was so busy ever since, that I have managed to avoid her attention.

Maybe I should have kept avoiding it. I’m still not sure.

“Am not!” Luna retorted, sliding aside on her pillow, and tapping it with a hoof. “I just found her first.”

“Well, now I have caught you both. Victory!” Celestia replied with a smile, settling on the pillow next to Luna and wrapping a wing around her. “You’re a very difficult person to track down, Mary. It’s a shame, Twilight had so many good things to say about you.”

“Sorry, your highness,” I smiled. “Bit of a reflex. In all honesty, celebrations like these are not my forte. I’m constantly at a loss which behavior is appropriate in this particular culture, in this particular time, and with this particular company, and being among ponies does not help. Without Rarity’s invention, I expect I would pick a much darker corner to hide in.”

Luna’s eyebrows went up. Unlike Celestia, with her diplomatic poker face, Luna’s expressions are much more readable. Looks like the dress has remembered what it’s for and started working its magic.

“I understand that it is you whom we have to thank for finding Cadance,” Celestia remarked.

Why does the golden parasite think she’s a human girl in a poofy white dress even my mother would call old-fashioned? And why does she look like she was painted by James Whistler in pastel on black construction paper? For the entire day, every other pony was rendered by post-impressionists. As ponies. It has been ponies all the way ever since the invasion. Why did it decide to switch now?

“I think the correct word is blame, your highness,” I insisted. “After all, if it weren’t for me, the need wouldn’t arise in the first place.”

Every other pony, except Luna. I got so used to how mundane everypony looked for most of the week, that I actually managed to tune the eye out entirely. They look like sisters even as humans… but Luna’s dress is black.

“Really? I should blame you for being treated to some of the most moving displays of harmony in decades, then,” Celestia replied with an enigmatic smile. “To hear the whole city in heartsong, to witness a true miracle with my own eyes… This is something I haven’t seen for a very long time. I was pleasantly surprised.”

Should I take it as an indication that she had foreseen the mainline version of events which we disrupted, or not? Let’s determine just how informed she is, first.

“I can’t take credit for ponies engaging in heroism,” I replied. “Initiating the massacre of the invading army, though? Kind of. I did basically goad Rika into making it possible.”

I was pressed for time. I don’t do very well when I’m pressed for time.

“The last time I fought Chrysalis, I sealed her into a live volcano, and never expected to unseal it again,” Celestia replied, without losing a beat. “I mellowed out a lot over the years, but not enough to overturn that one decision, she inflicted far too much death and suffering on our little ponies. While I would have preferred to show mercy, this was the outcome she chose. She sent her changelings to their deaths, all by herself.”

Intriguing.

“Indeed,” Luna chimed in, “She refused surrender in no uncertain terms, and swore to visit untold calamities on Canterlot in the same breath.”

I can imagine why. How did she even survive in a volcano?… I guess I can ask that one later. “Out of curiosity,” I wondered, “what would have happened if she did surrender?”

“In this day and age?” Celestia pondered, raising a hoof to rub her chin. “She is not an Equestrian citizen, so she would be tried in a court of law as a foreign national for committing crimes in Equestria. Impersonation of a Princess of Equestria, fraud, conspiracy to commit an act of war, false imprisonment, use of mind altering magic with intent to commit fraud, escape from imprisonment for prior crimes, numerous misdemeanors…”

“Isn’t being a changeling enough?” Luna wondered.

“There’s no law against being a changeling, Luna, and I hope our little ponies won’t be stupid enough to try to pass one,” Celestia replied. “I’m still holding out for something good coming of her progeny, if not of Chrysalis herself, though after this incident, I’m open to suggestions.”

“What sort of sentence are we looking at, here?” I wondered. “And more importantly, do you think she knew what exactly to expect?” The implication that Chrysalis is the progenitor of all changelings is quite interesting already, – just how does that work exactly? – but I will need more pieces of this puzzle if I want to get this mess sorted out for good.

“Those crimes alone would be enough for a few decades in Tartarus, if she does not demonstrate repentance,” Celestia replied. “But with the way her prior sentence never had a set time, this would turn into a fascinating legal puzzle, which would occupy the court for years.” A mischievous grin spread across her elongated face. Of all the ponies I have seen so far, Celestia resembles an actual horse the most. “It would be very interesting to watch, and I find that the tedium of the proceedings works even better than–”

She was interrupted by a Royal Guard galloping to the table. He frantically tried to backpedal when he was just a few steps away, and slammed into it with the sound of a frying pan knocking on wood, nearly knocking my bottle over. “Your highnesses!” he panted out.

“What happened, sergeant?” Celestia asked him. So that’s what a worried Princess Celestia looks like. “Take a breath. Whatever it is, five seconds won’t make a difference, but a forgotten word might.”

The sergeant took a breath as directed, and removed his helmet, revealing the blue crew cut. He threw a glance at me, and I did my best to pretend I’m just background noise. Praise be to Rarity, this is so much easier now.

“Your highness,” he finally choked out, “It has returned!”

This story has the most peculiar sense of dramatic timing, the only way you could get more obvious is by punctuating it with a thunder strike.

Author's Note

It’s about to get exciting again.

We’re pretty deep into the story, and I still don’t know if it is really tagged correctly. But it’s going to be more or less the same from here on in terms of tone and topics covered – meta-discourse and character pieces, worldbuilding and plothole-welding, punctuated by feels and relatively short bouts of frantic action.

Conversation 33: Twilight Sparkle

“May I borrow the happy couple for a minute?” Princess Celestia smiled at us, suddenly appearing at our table.

“Bruh?…” Cadance mumbled out, with her mouth full of cake. Shining Armor looked up from his own piece.

“Yes, Shining Armor, I need you both,” Celestia nodded to my brother. “This is urgent, your highness.”

Right. He’s a prince now. I’m not sure if a Princess of Equestria ever had a prince before. He probably has new responsibilities. I have no idea what kind, I should have researched that. Maybe Moondancer knows. Even Lyra knows a lot more history and ancient legends than I do.

I’m probably going to see my brother even less often, now…

Shining Armor and Cadance looked at each other and got up, trailing after Princess Celestia. “Don’t get too drunk without us, ladies,” Shining Armor grinned at me across his back.

“Anyway, the transformation hurts,” Lyra continued her story. “Big time hurts, I thought I was going to die. And walking on your hind legs full time feels completely different, the balance is off, you have so many tiny new muscles to think about, and all the organs are in slightly different places. If he didn’t have spells to rewire the brain, I wouldn’t be able to move at all. Most of them didn’t work, and he kept trying new ones until he found those that did, I never thought anything could cast spells so fast.”

Somewhere behind my back, I heard Princess Celestia whispering, “…honeymoon destination is going to have to change…”

I felt that nagging worry out of nowhere. It was so strong, that I actually lost my concentration. Lyra’s story is extremely interesting, but she will still be here tomorrow. Cadance and Shining Armor are leaving for their honeymoon on the overnight train, I have their trip itinerary and everything!

Cadance replied to Celestia with something barely intelligible.

I spent hours planning their trip, and everypony pitched in with ideas. It was supposed to be a grand tour across the entirety of Equestria…

“How does a crystal even cast spells?” Rarity wondered. Trust Rarity to be interested in a sapient gemstone and completely ignore the unprecedented transformation magic. “I could understand if it were enchanted with something complex, but even then, it’s impossible to enchant this many spells into a single gem, especially spells that don’t actually work.”

“…the Crystal Empire has returned…” Princess Celestia continued whispering.

“He’s not actually a crystal,” Lyra answered, “Some kind of extremely complex machine with atomic scale moving parts. Complex enough to really be sapient, if you can even believe that, although he doesn’t quite talk–”

“…your train is leaving in two hours…”

Full stop. I tuned Lyra out entirely to listen to the faint, haunting sound in my own head.

I had heard it before. That moment of clarity when I feel like I hear the voice of harmony itself. It doesn’t quite talk, and yet, I’m still sure I can hear it, a thin chime, a sparkle in the twilight, the moment when I suddenly understand everything.

I have heard it before, when Nightmare Moon shattered the Elements, in the voices of my friends. And now I’m hearing it in my memory. The last pieces just came in.

“It means a kingdom capable of ‘impervious’ static defense of the entire population.” … “The Crystal Empire has returned.” … “It’s an important part of your story, with three heartsongs to it.” … “But nopony thought that this would ever happen, because the Crystal Empire had the strongest protection of all: the Crystal Heart.” … “It should reappear within a month, if nothing prevents that.” … “But to do that, Luna and I would have to face the dragon.” … “It’s also his adventure.” … “…your train is leaving in two hours…”

It was like the chorus of all those voices speaking about things so different suddenly coalesced into one melody, that was started and ended in an instant.

But it was enough.

“Sorry, Lyra, I need to go,” I said, jumping up, not even listening for her response. I ran towards where the Princess and my brother and Cadance were standing.

“Princess,” I interrupted their whispering, “I’m going with them.”

“Really, Twilight?” Princess Celestia smiled at me. “Don’t you think this is taking sisterly love just a little bit far?…”

“Very funny, Princess,” I stomped. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been listening in, but you were speaking a bit too loud. You’re sending them to the Crystal Empire, aren’t you?”

Princess Celestia raised an eyebrow and looked at me appraisingly. “I do have a mission that calls specifically for them, but this is nothing you need to concern yourself with, Twilight.”

“Crystal Empire is not a ship, or something else that could simply return, isn’t it,” I stated. “It is a city, a lost pony kingdom protected by the Crystal Heart.”

“How do you know that?” Celestia narrowed her eyes. “Very few ponies know that name.”

“I found a work mentioning it in the old castle library,” I replied.

The library that she directed me to. Did she plan for this? Was that journal part of my quest or not? With Princess Celestia, you never really know. The library that Luna sent Trixie to duel me for. Was this what Princess Luna really opposed? I don’t know her well enough to be sure.

I saw that momentary twitch of Celestia’s eyelids. I know that twitch. Here it comes…

“Absolutely not,” the Princess replied in a stern tone, with her enigmatic smile. I know that smile, too. I know that smile very well. I used to have nightmares about that smile. “I need you here, Twilight.”

“I must go with them, Princess,” I insisted.

“Oh?” the smile grew wider. “Care to explain your reasoning?”

I took a breath. Stand straight. Speak calmly and precisely. Omit nothing.

“Crystal Empire is supposed to have wielded some of the most advanced protective magic of the pre-classical era,” I started. “And yet, it vanished completely without a trace. It has reappeared, and this event was important enough, that you need to preempt the honeymoon and send Cadance and Shining Armor there immediately. The obvious conclusion is that whatever made it disappear despite the protective magic is now a concern, and requires a Princess of Equestria to counter. The Elements of Harmony would make a much better counter, or at least, backup, and we’re all here already.”

“The logic is mostly correct, but your data is incomplete,” Princess Celestia remarked. “You have only found a mention of the Crystal Empire. I have actually been there. Why exactly do you think that the Elements are even useful in this situation? The conclusion that you must go with them does not follow.”

“It’s… Not an entirely rational conclusion, Princess,” I admitted. “But I also know that both Cadance and Shining Armor are still suffering from magic exhaustion. They are recovering, but they’re still not entirely healthy. I…” I took a deeper breath. I never thought I would ever say something like this. “I feel you’re making a mistake. I can’t let you do this. I can’t lose my brother. I can’t lose my new sister-in-law. They’re… they’re my family. They’re my oldest friends. You don’t let your friends go on dangerous missions alone.”

While I was talking, behind Celestia’s back, I saw a plate with cake float in the familiar glow of my brother’s magic towards Cadance, who quietly took a bite without letting her eyes off me. Shining Armor himself was chewing on his lip. Haven’t I read somewhere, “Love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward together in the same direction?” Seems like I’m in that direction now.

“But they won’t be alone,” Celestia countered. “They will have a full train of Royal Guard with them.”

“This isn’t what I mean, Princess…” I replied, steeling myself for what I was about to say next. I actually did go crazy in those two weeks, didn’t I? “Do you remember the letter you sent me when I wrote to you about the prophecy of Nightmare Moon?”

In the corners of my vision, I saw a crowd starting to gather around us in a circle. My parents. Minuette and Twinkleshine. Lemon Hearts.

“Of course,” Celestia nodded. “I told you to go out and make some friends. And you can’t argue it did not work out perfectly.”

“That’s not what I’m going to argue,” I replied. “I can’t describe how grateful I am to you. You did what you had to do, and you guided me to some of the most wonderful experiences in my life. And yet…” I looked away, just to get that smile out of my head for a few seconds.

“Oh?” the Princess prompted, when the pause started feeling too long.

“And yet, I already had friends,” I stared back at her. “I know I didn’t treasure those friendships. I know I had no idea how to be a good friend. I’m still learning that. Probably will keep learning for the rest of my life. But by abandoning these ponies, I hurt them. I’m not trying to blame you for this, this is my own responsibility. But it happened because I allowed myself to use your judgment as an excuse. You only heard about my friends. But I have actually been there.”

“Not exactly something I expected to hear from my most faithful student,” Celestia remarked blankly.

I’m so getting banished for this. Or thrown in a dungeon. Or… or whatever. I don’t care anymore.

“Haven’t you taught me that I should think for myself?” I replied. “I would not be very faithful if I didn’t try.”

“You aren’t just thinking for yourself here, Twilight,” Celestia replied. “Sending the Elements means all six of you. Have you just decided for them that they, too, must go to the ends of the world?”

I bit my lip. “I’ve already made a decision for them, just a week ago. And I made a mistake, one that had consequences which still horrify me. But they’re still my friends, even after that. I just hope they will trust me again. But even if they don’t… I would go anyway.”

Suddenly, I heard flapping of the wings next to my ear, and a heavy stomp of four hooves. Looking beside me, I saw Rainbow Dash, who just landed so hard that she nearly cracked the pavement. She snapped a salute at the Princess. “I’m going,” she said. Just like that.

Applejack trotted up to stand on my other side. “Ah don’ see why you got to play these games, yer highness. Ya know what happens when you break Twilight, right? Well, ya know who gets to pick up tha pieces? I’d like mah friend sane, thank ye very much.”

Pinkie popped up next to us, her mane so full of confetti and glitter that she was leaving a trail. Even though she traveled in a straight line, the trail was still somehow tied into knots. “That was mean, princess!”

But Princess Celestia remained silent, never taking her eyes off me.

“Indeed,” Rarity added, joining the group, and making a proud pose. “I won’t deny that I would rather stay, but of course we’re all going. That would only be proper.”

A flash of green revealed Fluttershy, who was there beside me all along. The leaf pattern on her dress lit up brightly like her smile, and then shifted. I felt the targeting matrix in the gem on her flower hairpin readjust as she threw a stern glance towards the princess.

Princess Celestia’s eyelid twitched.

Spike tugged on the hem of my dress. “You’re not planning to go anywhere without your number one assistant, right?”

“No, Spike,” I smiled at him. “I’m pretty sure I’d be helpless without you.”

“So this is… is this what happens on a typical week?” Moondancer asked as she joined us. “Can I come too?”

“Of course,” I replied. “I have a feeling I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

“R-ready for Act Two!” Lyra proclaimed. She was leaning bodily into Bon-Bon, who just stood there supporting her with the most impenetrable face.

“Maybe you shouldn’t decide things like that when you’re drunk?” I wondered.

“Look, I’m not that drunk, Twilight,” Lyra replied. “I knew from the start that I’m not getting away with just one song.”

Bon-Bon rolled her eyes, but made no comment.

“Your highness,” Mary’s voice came from somewhere at the rear of our group, “I think it’s about time for you to back down. Before you need an extra train.”

I never even expected she would want to go.

“So you are all volunteering,” Celestia said, throwing a weary glance across our crowd.

“Looks like it, Princess,” I smiled sheepishly. “Did we… disappoint you?”

And suddenly, the enigmatic, impenetrable smile on her face turned into a triumphant grin. “On the contrary, Twilight. I’ll mark that as B minus,” she declared.

I felt my mane hairs twist their way out of the neatly arranged setup Rarity spent half an hour tuning to her satisfaction, as our crowd erupted in a murmur. This entire exchange, in full view of so many ponies, was… a test?!

“Now, seriously, yer highness, what did ah say about breaking my friend?” Applejack scowled at Celestia.

“Marked down for trying to skip ahead,” Celestia retorted, “I had to improvise. This is far from a situation I expected to present that test in.”

“That’s not what ah meant!”

“Sorry, Applejack, this was just a joke,” Celestia smiled at her. “Mostly.” She looked back at me. Then, at our entire crowd. “Everypony… Everyone who wishes to follow Twilight should assemble at the station. The train leaves as soon as the loading is finished, you have about an hour to pack. Dress warmly, if you can. If you are late or choose to reconsider, the train will leave without you.”

As everypony started dispersing, Celestia leaned in to tell me, “Follow me, Twilight, we don’t have much time.”

“For what, Princess?”

“A last minute magic lesson for my most faithful student.”

Author's Note

While I was messing with the draft, ScarletWeather coined this reaction:

Twilight: Princess Celestia, I’m going to save the day.
Princess Celestia: Damn it, woman, I meant for you to save the day after a six-month hiatus! Our production team could never keep up with this pace!

That is kind of what happened, isn’t it. :)

Conversation 34: Lyra Heartstrings

“–so as far as anypony knows, I am the legitimate heiress to the throne of the Crystal Empire,” Cadance concluded.

The train was packed. It was packed in great haste and military chaos, and I wasn’t even sure if everypony made it on board, because, true to her word, Princess Celestia ordered it to move out as soon as the last supply crate was loaded.

It wasn’t your usual Friendship Express, either. It had the biggest engine I ever saw, freshly painted up with the Sisters’ celestial roundel, and the chain of cars was much longer than the station platform. Half of them were cargo cars full of packaged supplies, and the other half were the usual sitting passenger cars packed with Royal Guard, three ponies per bench. Most of them were snoring.

I was still a little drunk, and wasn’t snoring myself only because I was sitting next to Fluttershy and Rarity across Cadance and Shining Armor and listening to what Shining Armor called “an improvised briefing,” which sounded more like a Third Celestial Era romance. Parts of it literally were one, because Cadance recounted much of her family history of a thousand years, going back from how Celestia found a pink pegasus filly who just ascended to alicornhood in a remote forest village. Many a colorful character preceded her, and some left their marks on Equestria’s history in very unusual places.

She still has them all beat, though. Before Cadance was discovered, the very idea that a regular pony can ever become an alicorn was mostly a philosophical daydream.

“So your gorgeous glossy hair is actually hereditary, I never would have guessed!” Rarity commented. “I was convinced there’s some secret hair care product.”

“No, it’s naturally like that,” Cadance giggled. “I didn’t get the sparkly eyes, but I definitely like having the crystal pony hair.”

“What I still don’t get is, why didn’t Princess Celestia go herself, or send Princess Luna?” Fluttershy wondered. “This sounds so important!”

“The crystal ponies have to recognize me as their rightful ruler first,” Cadance explained. “Until they do, neither Celestia nor Luna can help them.”

Rarity threw her eyebrows up. “Why would that be?”

“Ah, that’s my part!” Shining Armor grinned. “It’s actually a puzzle of hats. Or crowns. Legally, Crystal Empire is an independent nation.”

“But isn’t it supposed to be part of Equestria?” Rarity asked.

Shining Armor smirked. “How well do you remember your civics classes?”

“Our rural school has always emphasized more immediately practical disciplines,” Rarity admitted grudgingly. “I barely remember anything.”

“To remind you, originally, Equestria Accords mandated that a Princess of Equestria can’t interfere in the internal affairs of signatory kingdoms,” Shining Armor started explaining. “Including matters of royal succession. After the First Celestial Era reforms, they became the United Kingdoms of Equestria, but Crystal Empire couldn’t sign the amendments.”

“Oh!” Fluttershy exclaimed, “So it’s like Maretonia?”

Right, Maretonia still has a Duke with his own court and everything.

“Exactly like them!” Shining Armor confirmed. “United Kingdoms are not part of this relationship, but the Kingdom of Equestria, singular, the abandoned castle in Everfree Forest, still has suzerainty over Maretonia – and the Crystal Empire – on the original terms of the Accords. The Royal Guard is sworn to serve the Princesses of Equestria, which Cadance is, and she is also the heiress apparent of the Crystal Empire, which makes us going there a Crystal Empire internal affair. Neither Princess Celestia nor Princess Luna could do this. And unless Cadance is recognized as the Crystal Princess and asks for aid, sending the army in would be an act of war.”

“So why didn’t they get rid of that Sombra a thousand years ago?” I wondered. “The stallion sounds even more evil than–” I wanted to mention the changeling queen, but barely stopped myself in time. I don’t think Shining Armor wants to hear her name, and all she really wanted was to eat us, anyway. Like Bon-Bon said, no shortage of those around Equestria. “–well, I don’t think I remember anypony, most pre-classical usurpers we know of had at least dubiously legitimate claims, not to mention support. Quite an achievement for just one unicorn, really, he should be in every history book.”

More cautionary examples from a very distant past are always nice.

“That was the question I asked when I was a little filly and Celestia just told me who my birth parents and their ancestors were,” Cadance said. “Celestia and Luna went there alone, hoping to challenge Sombra to a duel. I thought it was very stupid of her to stick to the letter of the law, but… well, if she didn’t, there would not be an Equestria now. Nopony won that duel, but as far as we know, for Sombra, it happened just hours ago. It falls to us to finish it, and then, we can help everypony who survived.”

It’s not her style to dance around the point so much.

“Does this have to do with how the Crystal Empire disappeared?” I asked. “Was it some kind of super-curse that took the blood of a thousand ponies, or what?”

“Can’t say. Official Secrets Act,” Cadance frowned, squirming closer to Shining Armor and pulling him in with a wing. “I can tell you, that the reason Celestia spent centuries reforming Equestria was to make sure none of it could ever happen again. The ‘crimes against equinity’ amendment was just the first step.”

All this talk of evil sorcerers is making me chilly, and I’m getting envious of them hugging like that. Being envious is a completely wrong shade of green for my coat. And I have my own special somepony right here… “Has anypony seen Bon-Bon?” I jumped. I knew she was with me when I got on, because I was leaning on her the entire time, but somehow, I lost her in the noise.

“She went ahead to check out the sleeping car,” Rarity replied.

Right, I remember. At the last minute, they tacked on an armored car for the chest with the Elements and a sleeping car for all the civilian ponies Twilight dragged in. That is, us. The newlyweds have a nicer car all to themselves…

I slid off the bench and tried to find equilibrium between my four hooves.

“…Do you need any help, Lyra?” Fluttershy asked, and I jerked at the sudden flash of green on her dress. I heard she stared down an ancient dragon, once, but never before I actually had to experience something like this.

“No, no, thanks, Fluttershy, I’ll find her myself,” I replied, trying to maintain my last shreds of dignity. “It’s a train, right? There are only two directions to go, forward and back, right?”

“Usually,” Rarity nodded sagely.

“Which means I can’t miss her!” I grinned and trotted forward along the train, trying to keep my own wobbling out of phase with the gentle rocking of the cars.

I might have overestimated my sense of balance, because getting into the next car made for a few rather tense moments, but as soon as I shut the door on the chilly spring night behind me, I was assaulted by the warmth and cheer of the next car, which was anything but asleep.

“And now, the Great and Powerful Trixie will saw this gentlecolt in half, without harming a single hair in his coat!”

“…What’s she doing here?” I mumbled.

“Not you too, Lyra,” Rainbow Dash tugged at my dress. “Let the mare do her thing, the guards like it. It’s actually kinda fun, when she doesn’t try to embarrass anypony. Popcorn?”

She and Applejack were sitting up on a bench and trying to watch the spectacle over the heads of the enraptured guardsponies.

“Don’t mind if I do,” I said, grabbing a bunch of kernels with my magic. My, they swirl like little snowflakes… “Where’d you even get that?”

“Pinkie passed this way,” Applejack commented, “Twice in tha same direction, too. Ah don’t know how she does it.”

“It’s Pinkie,” I shrugged, clumsily climbing onto the bench next to them. “I bet she has popcorn hidden everywhere. For emergencies. But I could swear Trixie wasn’t there when Twilight had that argument with Princess Celestia.”

“Turned up at tha last minute, right as rain,” Applejack replied. “Said she’s not gonna let her rival run off on an adventure without her.”

“This is going to get awkward when Twilight finds out,” I commented, as the screeching of a saw filled the air. Trixie was doing exactly what she promised.

“Ah’ve been thinkin’ how to break it to her for the past hour, mighty awkward already ta me. Can’t see how it can get any worse.”

“Yes it can. I did tell you how I met Twilight and the rest of the old gang, right?” I asked.

“E-e-nope.”

“I was the president of the literature studies club when they all enrolled,” I explained. “Twilight didn’t discover it until the second year, because she was too busy taking care of Spike, but Moondancer, Twinkleshine and Trixie joined right off. And the very first thing Twilight did when she joined was an epic argument with Trixie about what counts as serialized fiction.”

“I bet she won that one too,” Rainbow Dash grinned.

“The first one, yes,” I confirmed. “Trixie came prepared next week. It escalated pretty quick from there. I’m not sure just how it shifted into arguments about magic theory, you’d have to ask Moondancer about that, they were in the same class. By next year, it was about whether Trixie can perform a magic trick that Twilight can’t repeat.”

“Ah think I can see where this is going,” Applejack commented. “She’s not actually doing magic here, right? Sleight of hoof, more like. The otha kind of trick.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” I grinned. “Trixie kept casting spells and Twilight kept repeating them, this went on for a long, long time. One day, Trixie made a statue disappear and reappear again. Twilight couldn’t cast a pseudo-space shift, and Trixie kept teasing her for an entire month.”

“A pseudo-what?” Rainbow Dash inquired.

“Kind of like teleportation that’s interrupted halfway,” I explained. “So that something disappears, but only reappears on command. Not an easy spell. Even most teachers couldn’t cast it.”

“So she found out Trixie cheated,” Applejack stated.

“After she actually managed to do it herself. They had to call Princess Celestia to get the statue back out,” I grinned. “Twilight stonewalled Trixie ever since, and eventually Trixie stopped coming to the club.”

The end of my speech was drowned in roaring clopping of applause as Trixie reassembled the thoroughly confused guard.

“Well, they’re kind of talking now,” Rainbow Dash said, licking up a popcorn kernel. “Trixie’s Princess Luna’s personal student and everything.”

“Trixie’s moving up in the world,” I commented. “She was always taking this rather seriously.”

“Seriously enough ta hurt somepony,” Applejack grumbled.

“The way Princess Luna explained that ‘trial of harmony’ thing, it’s an honest competition,” Rainbow Dash frowned at her. “Dunno about you, but I can totally get behind that.”

“Everything’s a competition to ya,” Applejack chastised her.

But Rainbow Dash just grinned back. “Well, duh, how else do you know how awesome you are? You gotta be more awesome than somepony else.”

“Thank you, thank you, gentlecolts, but we must end our show here, for while the Great and Powerful Trixie could keep you up until dawn, your captain and his princess would rightfully object. Hey, Lyra! Give my regards to the rest of the peanut gallery! Good night, everypony!” Trixie yelled, before disappearing in a cloud of smoke, which made the front rows of the guard sneeze loudly in unison.

“Wonder if she heard any of what I’ve been sayin’,” Applejack mumbled.

“I don’t think so,” I said, “She was busy anyway. Have you girls seen Bon-Bon?”

“She went ahead for the sleeping car before Trixie started the show,” Rainbow Dash replied.

“Thanks,” I replied and made my way through the sea of stallions, who were now busy interrogating Trixie’s unfortunate victim. Judging from the fragments of the questions they were tossing at him, they wanted to know how long Trixie and he have been dating.

The next car was eerily quiet and even the lights were dimmed to almost total darkness, the soft glow of two horns illuminating a corner in which Twilight, Moondancer, Mary and Spike were huddled around a book.

“This one really irks me,” Moondancer whispered, and started reading in a hushed voice. “The dragon picked up the Crystal Heart in his huge claws and held it close to Celie’s face, telling her that she had a lot of nerve coming here asking for it. After all, the crystal ponies actually stole it from him when they mined the Crystalline Mountain, which was his hoard!” She looked up at Twilight and Mary. “And what does this ‘Celestia’ say to that? ‘Return unto us the Crystal Heart or thou shalt pay a mighty price, dragon!’ She bullies him into parting with his property like it’s some… playground equipment! Because ‘dragons don’t share!’”

“I do share!” Spike frowned. “Sometimes.”

“Sorry, Spike,” Moondancer glanced at him. “I didn’t mean you. You’re the best dragon I know.”

The only dragon we all know personally, but he really has grown up to be a nice boy.

“Well, I don’t know what kind of dragon they meant, but I don’t like the guy,” Spike stated.

“Don’t worry, Spike,” Twilight said, hugging her little assistant close. “I’m not sure that dragon existed in the first place.”

“But the Heart definitely exists, and it’s anything but a trinket,” Mary commented. “In fact, finding it should be your first priority. But I don’t know where it actually came from.”

“What are you reading, girls?” I whispered, peeking into their little circle.

Twilight looked up at me, sending dancing shadows across the silhouettes of sleeping guards around us as her horn moved. “That’s how I knew about the Crystal Empire, it’s a book from the Everfree castle library. It says it’s the journal of the two alicorn sisters.”

“Oh wow, so you’re reading their private journal!” I grinned. “Any juicy details? And just how much trouble are we going to get into for reading it?”

“It’s definitely not a real journal,” Moondancer stated. “I think we’re all in agreement that it’s a forgery.”

“It’s nearly impossible for it to exist at all,” Mary piped up.

“And it’s insensitive to dragons,” Spike added.

I barely stifled a giggle. “Being a fake book insensitive to dragons is bad, but that’s not really impossible.”

“Oh, you don’t get it!” Twilight exclaimed loudly, but caught herself just in time as the nearest guard stirred in his sleep, and returned to a whisper. “The Crystal Empire returned today. For a thousand years, it was missing, and most of the information about it is classified under the Official Secrets Act. I found this book almost two weeks ago. But the book is no more than a hundred years old!”

“Show me?” I asked, lighting up my own horn.

“Sure,” Twilight said, rotating the book towards me. “Start here. These are the entries that mention the Crystal Empire.”

I skimmed through the pages quickly. The whole reason Crystal Empire exists is because of the Crystal Heart… Wow, an imprint, you don’t see these often. “…So let me get this straight,” I whispered. “The ponies, thinking the dragon doesn’t exist, took a unique gem from his hoard. The dragon woke up and took it back. Never mind that they don’t even offer to buy it off him, just one shout from the Princess is enough to scare him into hoofing it over? That’s total bunk. Especially for that era.”

“This document is full of this sort of thing,” Mary nodded.

“Did the author ever see a real ancient dragon?” I wondered. “Because I’ve read the legends of the Dragon War. They started that war, and fought Celestia tooth and claw.” The griffon ballads about it are a thing of beauty that I will still shamelessly emulate given the chance. And I’m pretty sure I heard that the Royal Disaster Relief Fund began with the loot, back when it was called the War Victims Relief Treasury.

“That’s another clue!” Twilight exclaimed. She pulled up a scroll and added a line to the bottom. “Not a very useful one, but every little thing helps.”

That heart… why do I keep remembering that other heart? Is it because the legend I started with was from the northern earth pony folklore?…

“Hey, Twilight,” I suddenly remembered, “What was that magic lesson that Princess Celestia wanted to teach you at the last minute?”

“Forms,” Twilight, replied, trying to hide behind her own ears, which looked just about as silly as it sounds, and nearly got a giggle out of me. “A whole stack of forms. Now I have a new compartmented top secret clearance, and I’m not even allowed to tell you what it is for.”

“I am pretty sure it’s a variation on dark magic,” Mary commented suddenly.

“How do you…” Twilight looked up, but stopped herself, “Right, of course you would. Tell me, Mary… Will I have to use it?”

“Signs point to yes.”

Twilight pressed Spike in tighter, and he looked at her, worried. “It was so easy,” she breathed out. “I spent more time signing things than learning it, that’s how easy it was. It’s… not a temptation I’d like to have right now. I’m not really in the right state of mind to handle it.”

“Then just don’t do it,” I smiled at her. “We’ll think of something. That’s what friends are for, right?”

Twilight brightened up a bit. “Thanks, Lyra.”

“Speaking of friends,” I said, giving it a suitable pause. “Marefriends, even. Everypony’s been telling me Bon-Bon went ahead to the sleeping car.”

“She passed by here thirty two minutes ago,” Mary replied.

“Thanks,” I said. “I’d better go find her.”

“Good night, Lyra,” Moondancer smiled at me. I haven’t seen her smile since… I don’t see her that often in the first place, but still, that was a long time. Something went right for just about everypony today. Let’s hope this keeps up.

“Good night, everyone,” I whispered back, and resumed creeping among the gleaming armored bodies in the near-darkness.

It’s still a long way to wherever we’re going, but Cadance said we should arrive at dawn. I should really try to get some sleep, but not before I find Bon-Bon.

And I’m not going to accept any complaints about the blanket.

I had to traverse one more car worth of snoring stallions in golden armor before I finally saw a long row of doors in the narrow corridor of a sleeping car.

“You got nowhere left to hide, Sweetie Drops!” I whispered into the darkness.

“I did tell you I really might have to kill you if you do that in public.”

She’s standing right behind me, isn’t she?

“Gotcha!” I breathed out.

And then I turned around and wrapped her in the tightest hug I could manage.

Author's Note

I tried to keep the chapter from being too infodumpy. If anyone wishes to know more about the political structure of the Equestria presented in this story, which necessitated this whole Royal Guard gambit, there’s a blog post in which I describe how I came up with it in excruciating detail.

In the next chapter, we get another new narrator.

Conversation 35: Cadance

“This looks nothing like the pictures,” Twilight observed, as we passed from the blizzard into the relative warmth of the weather barrier.

A breath caught in my throat. The magnificent crystal castle of my visions, distorted almost beyond recognition by black, irregular growths, like somepony dipped the entire city into a vat of ink, and it crystallized into the very image of repugnance, staining the sky itself with brown.

Someone, not somepony. No pony would ever do something like this.

“In theory, it should be temporary,” Mary the human replied, brushing the snow off her dress and trying to shake the moisture off her hands with thinly veiled disgust.

“I surely hope so!” Rarity interjected. “I know this is no time for having a heart attack, but I feel one is quite justified. I was so sure it’s impossible to make crystal ugly, but I must take that back. This was supposed to be one of the most beautiful places in Equestria, what have they done to it?!”

“Not they,” I corrected her. “Him. King Sombra. Just him.”

Sombra the usurper.

“The crystal ponies urgently need a ‘Welcome back to Equestria’ party!” Pinkie Pie bounced in place. “We can’t start without them! Where is everypony?”

“Good question,” Shining Armor replied. “Squad one, check the houses on the left side of the street,” he shouted. “Squad two, you get the right side. No forced entry. If you meet anypony, approach with caution. Do not separate, always keep at least one other squad in sight. Squads three and four, go up for aerial recon. Our top priority is locating Sombra, but look out for any ponies.”

When our train finally arrived, his short speech to the guard he assembled in formation ended with “We are the last knights of Equestria, and today is the day Equestria needs knights.” It’s so strange to know somepony who can say it with a straight face, let alone mean it. It is stranger yet to know somepony who really is one, no ifs or buts or maybes, in a world which classifies them as fairytales and myth. It’s so strange to be married to that stallion.

It is so strange to be the princess of the fairytale he wrote just for me. It is a dream that one never dares to dream, all the more precious when you suddenly realize that it’s actually real, that it isn’t something you just imagined, that it’s been going on for quite a while. We’re married. The whole of Canterlot danced on our wedding. This crystal city is our happily ever after.

Call it childish all you want, but in the privacy of my own thoughts, I will never stop marveling at all the big and little miracles that we shared. This city is my gift to him, the symphony of everything that is good and pure in Equestria, the place worthy of protection by the most valiant knight in the land. The place for our children to grow up in and go on to make the world even brighter.

If I could only clean it up…

But where are the crystal ponies?… The entire blackened, defiled city was empty, ominously silent and still, and as we moved forward, none of the many doors the guards knocked on opened.

This was supposed to be a shining oasis in the desert of snow and ice. There should be happy ponies going about their lives, courting and cheering, drinking coffee under tents and reading books, showing off dresses and snappy suits, buying and selling, watering flowers and giving them to each other… This was a place of magnificent arts and a triumph of earth pony magic.

A triumph that would have been undone in an instant by that very magic, twisted to the darkest and foulest ends, were it not for Amore’s foresight.

“Something’s else is missing,” I said, once we finally approached the castle. The large parabolic chamber at the base, the snowflake design on the crystal pavement… “I’m sure the Crystal Heart is supposed to be right here. Where is it?…”

Mary the human threw a curious glance at me, but didn’t say anything. Moondancer and Lyra bent their necks down to inspect the snowflake.

The Crystal Heart brooch was missing, too. On the day before the wedding, I combed the entire castle for it, but that was the only thing that nopony could find. In the end, I wore a simple white rose from Rarity’s accessory box. What did the changeling queen want with that thing? If she had to take something, like a common thief, there were hundreds of objects within easy reach that were more valuable or more important. The only pony for whom it was anything more than a piece of ancient semi-precious jewelry would be me.

Why the brooch?

“Mary,” Twilight poked her human friend with a hoof, “you do know where the Crystal Heart is, right?”

“The path starts in the throne room, requires dark magic to open, and consists of lots and lots and lots of stairs and several traps. The topology involved is rather baffling,” Mary replied. “But my knowledge might be entirely worthless, as Princess Cadance just demonstrated.”

“I did?” The sources of her knowledge are murky, even a bit suspicious. But she did lead Twilight to rescuing me.

“You remember the Crystal Heart, and know where it should be,” Mary stated, her misshapen yellow eye scrutinizing me even while the other one was looking at the crystal snowflake before her. “In the mainline version of events, Twilight arrives to a city under siege by Sombra, at least a day after you. Nopony mentions the Crystal Heart except the crystal ponies themselves. Even then, descriptions of its actual function are censored in local literature.”

I threw an awkward glance at my own flank. I always knew that the heart on my cutie mark is not just the symbol of love. I knew this was my destiny all along. Of all the generations, of all the descendants of La Mia Speranza, I was the one that knew the Crystal Empire would emerge during my lifetime, and one day, I would return to the kingdom that Speranza left for her crusade. Celestia spent years preparing me for this. We never knew the day, we didn’t even know the year, but we knew that it is not far off.

How could I possibly forget about the most important relic of the Crystal Empire?…

Shining Armor reacted well before I could. “That’s much more informative than you think,” he said. “All squads, be advised, the enemy is capable of using mind affective spells in combat!” he shouted, his voice amplified by the echoes in the parabolic chamber and scattering out. “Mass amnesia spells are highly likely!”

“Well, that’s a possibility I didn’t consider,” Mary commented dryly as she made the connection. “Yet another one.”

I smiled at her proudly. In a different situation, I would spend a minute gushing about how smart my husband is, but for now, a smile will have to do.

“Any other pieces of wisdom to share?” Shining prodded. “Knowing where everypony is would be useful at this point.”

“Not really,” Mary replied, biting a fingernail. “The story of the Crystal Empire is one where the mainline stays as vague as it gets. By the time Twilight arrives, the crystal ponies are in their homes, even though all of them present with memory loss and post-traumatic stress. Evidently, they can be found, just like Sombra can be expelled from the city without the Elements of Harmony. But I have no knowledge whatsoever of how that actually gets done in any Equestria I’ve heard of.”

“I think I know,” Moondancer suddenly said, looking up from the snowflake pattern on the pavement, her horn lit up. “I don’t understand most of the spells that went into making this, I’m not even sure some of them are spells. But this castle has to be the biggest thaumic capacitor array ever built.”

I almost forgot she was even here. Twilight has collected a whole cadre of nearly invisible friends. The sound of affection for Twilight trailing after her should have made her difficult to lose, but eyes just slide right off these dresses until their owners start talking to you.

Twilight doesn’t see her in that way, and Moondancer does not realize her crush herself, but maybe…

Hush, stop. Now is not the time.

“Thaumic capacitor? Where?” Twilight wondered, looking around the chamber and lighting up her own horn. “Ooh!”

“Yes, you’re standing in it,” Moondancer replied. “This chamber is the reflector assembly that Meadowbrook described in ‘The Cryostatic Creativity of Crystal.’ Not just the castle, the entire city is a huge arcane device. Even the streets are a collector mesh for something. Scaled up. Way up. And I think the spire is an actuator wand. It’s all disconnected, but the individual components should still work.” She looked at me. “Do you think you can charge it, your highness? There are multiple static shield spells it’s supposed to be feeding into.”

“Just Cadance, please,” I replied. “I… don’t think I could do that, not just yet,” I added, after inspecting the working for myself and doing some mental calculations. Without the Heart, unicorn magic would be the only way to power the immense magical construct, and it has never been my strongest suit. I was not born with it. But I could do it for a while… a month ago. After that night, I’m not even sure when would I recover enough to do something like that again.

In the unseen darkness, where no pony dares to tread, he just stood there, waiting for me, shining brightly like the Sun, burning everything he still had for but one last goodbye.

I really am the luckiest princess in Equestria so many times over…

“Your highness? Sir?” a pegasus guard interrupted us, landing right next to us with a heavy sound of hooves on the crystal pavement. “We found them. A mile west, there’s… a stadium.”

“I really don’t like the sound of that…” Mary mumbled.

“Is there anything special about the stadium?” Twilight asked.

“I didn’t even know they have one…” Mary answered. “But… It’s just the right kind of place if you need to keep thousands of ponies where you can see them. What kind of state, do you think, will they be in, a month later?”

My stomach turned. “Lead the way, lieutenant,” I commanded, and stormed out of the parabolic chamber back onto the street.

“You heard the princess,” Shining Armor barked as he joined me, “All squads, move out!”

We advanced at the head of our little army, marching forward in step, a princess and her prince, surrounded by our friends, and I couldn’t decide whether to feel happy at that unity of purpose, or despair at the potential grimness of it. I know what the term “crimes against equinity” means. Things so horrible, that hearing that a pony did them makes you feel ashamed to be a pony.

And chances are, I’m about to see them. I haven’t the heart to ask the lieutenant what he saw. I don’t think he has the heart to tell me either.

We turned into one of the side streets, and suddenly, there they were, blocking our way towards the stadium, ponies. Crystal ponies. My ponies.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

“Don’t they know it’s more fun when everypony is wearing a different Nightmare Night costume?” Pinkie Pie piped up in genuine surprise.

Crystal ponies in black, ominous suits of spiked armor, raven black hair sticking up in a crest over the helmets, slotted visors over each eye, glowing with poisonous green. A grid over the mouth like a muzzle on a dangerous animal.

Arranged in a formation, lances out, and pointing straight at us.

“Oh my goodness,” Fluttershy whispered somewhere right next to me, in a tone of such horror, that I did not need to see her to imagine her terrified face. These are not some loyal troops. I know that glow. I can feel that magic, it’s not even hidden. I have seen an example far too recently for me to forget.

It’s a slave army. They’re not fighting for somepony they love, they do not wish to protect anything, their love song is silent… They don’t remember the love they feel for other ponies. They don’t remember they’re ponies at all.

Ponies have not made war on ponies for nine centuries. The very thought is so alien, that we call a story science fiction just for supposing such a possibility. Celestia spent over a thousand years, mediating, promoting friendship and harmony, teaching us, and Sombra… Sombra would seek to undo all that, and of all the myriad monsters to ever threaten Equestria, he was the one to find the means.

Yet again, Shining Armor reacted faster than I could. “Jousting shields up! Blunt ends forward! Air support, engage at will! Nonlethal spells only! Knock them out, gentlecolts! We trained for this! Charge!”

Even before he finished, the entire mass of stallions in golden armor rushed past us, to the low hum of shield spells, spears twirling in the air and settling in the latches at their sides.

And then he joined them.

“What do we do, Twilight?” Applejack shouted, trying to break through the screech of metal on metal, as the first rows of the charging ponies met each other, just steps away from us.

“I don’t know!” Twilight exclaimed in desperation. “I’m sure the Elements would help, but I don’t know how to direct them against an army!”

“You know what they say, it’s not opera until the fat lady sings,” Lyra tried for a joke. Silly girl, is she still so conscious about her weight? Bon-Bon likes her exactly as she is.

“Are you sure you can just tie them all up?” Bon-Bon inquired.

“Um… No?”

“Then let the professionals work, dammit.”

Right next to my ear I heard a click. “Put that thing away,” I told Mary, who was holding her ugly weapon in her hand.

She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t move, still pointing the barrel of what Spike called a “death ray” towards the sky.

“Put it away,” I repeated. “Even one dead crystal pony is one too many.”

“I agree, but even one breaking through could be enough,” she pointed out. The weapon clicked again, and she hid it somewhere in the pleats of her skirt. “There’s more at stake here than just the Crystal Empire.”

“Trust Shining Armor,” I smirked. “He never let me down. Not even once.”

If anything, I let him down, when I got caught unawares by the changeling queen. She still had to cast a spell on him to keep him under control, even when she had my face. She fooled Celestia, who knows me better than a parent would. She couldn’t fool Shining without poisoning his brains all the way to Hades.

The melee went on, but even though there were almost as many armored crystal ponies as guards, even though they were all earth ponies, fighting to kill, our knights were winning. Every blow that connected would leave a huge dent in armor, scraping the gold off and revealing the dull shine of stainless steel underneath, but still, more and more crystal ponies fell, unconscious, and the remaining ones were getting split into smaller groups, encircled in shields, slowly but surely whittled down.

“Uh-oh,” Spike suddenly said. He stayed silent ever since we went into the city, but now, he was holding onto my leg, and I could feel the little dragon shiver. It did not take long for the reason to make itself known.

A formless mass of shadow, even darker than the ugly crystals covering the walls, was oozing out of the doors of the stadium, spilling onto the street in a billowing cloud. Only the huge eyes, glowing red on green, betrayed this was anything but just a cloud of smoke.

Huge, glowing, with flames of purple leaking out of them like misplaced eyebrows. Staring right at me. Looming over me. A pony head coalesced out of it, a face so much like a pony, and yet, not a pony at all. Ponies don’t have teeth like that.

And then it spoke to me, in a deep, echoing voice that chilled me to the bone, “AAAAHHHHH… THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY.”

“Girls… That has to be Sombra,” Twilight said. “You ready?”

“Been ready the last time,” Rainbow Dash tossed back.

“Just checking. If we use the Elements, there will be nothing left of him. Not even a corpse. Formation!”

I never even saw what they were doing, I was too busy trying to stare the shadow down. But the results were not to be hidden, as a wave of rainbow washed across my field of vision, blanking Sombra out entirely. In a deafening roar, the shadow faded, and a piece of red, ugly, curved horn fell to my hooves.

And then the light in the visors of every armored crystal pony went out and suddenly, all of them fell to the ground, like sock puppets with the hooves taken out of them.

Silence fell.

“That,” Rainbow Dash said, as she breathed out and took in the sight, “was kinda not awesome. It was at least thirty percent more awesome with Discord.”

“I hope it’s not getting any more awesome in the near future, Rainbow,” Twilight commented in an quivering voice. “That was just enough awesome for one day. I think our collective quota of awesome is filled for the entire month!”

Rainbow Dash was about to reply, but I didn’t listen. Instead, I galloped towards the doors of the stadium, now that the way was clear. I knew exactly where I had to be right now, what I had to say, what I had to do. We have so much work ahead of us.

And I had the energy to do that, because I knew, without having to look, that my prince is right there next to me.

Author's Note

This was a difficult one. It is probably not very good, at least, my prereaders complained.

It also officially brings this story into the 100k+ words range.

Fortunately for Rainbow Dash, who still wants more awesome, and unfortunately for everypony else, Twilight jinxed it. I’ve been itching to post the next chapter for months, so you have something to look forward to.

P.S. So you didn’t notice, that during A Canterlot Wedding, Chrysalis-disguised-as-Cadance wears a brooch with a crystal heart on her wedding dress, but later, during the scenes with the actual Cadance, a white rose takes its place? Well, most people didn’t.

P.P.S. Spike still gets to be a hero in this story. But, certainly not in the way it happened in canon…

Conversation 38: Spike

One reason I so rarely get to eat fire rubies is that they can keep me awake for hours past my bedtime. Oh, and they’re rare and expensive. There’s always that. This one wasn’t very ripe, but it was so tasty…

“Sorry!” a guard shouted, rushing out of the doors and pushing Mary out of the way. “Sir! I think we spotted—”

“Let me guess. Tirek,” Shining Armor interrupted him.

“…Yes, sir,” the guard replied.

“Evacuate the citizens to the castle, assemble on the main street, defensive formation. We must get this done before they knock down the shield,” Shining announced his orders. He grabbed me off his back with his magic, and, after some looking around, set me gently on the floor next to Cadance. “Twilight, wake the rest of your friends up. Use the Elements the first chance you get,” he said, before turning to move.

“Wait!” Twilight yelled after him. “Use the Elements to do what?”

“No time. Cadance will fill you in,” he tossed back at us.

“Shining!” Cadance yelled. “Don’t you dare die out there, you hear me?”

He just turned back, smiled, adjusted the scarf Cadance tied on him yesterday morning, and then galloped out towards the entrance archway of the city. Twilight might be the strongest unicorn there is, but one thing Shining has on her, he’s the coolest one.

Twilight sighed. “So who, or what, is Tirek?” she asked with resigned dread in her voice.

“I only know what Celestia told us,” Cadance replied. “Some prince from an ancient kingdom of centaurs, recently escaped from Tartarus.”

“I thought the last centaur kingdom collapsed sometime in the IX century,” Moondancer commented. “Could a single centaur even live that long?”

“Celestia said that Tirek was why it collapsed, so make your guesses,” Cadance replied. “I had the wedding on my mind and didn’t feel like prying, I was afraid she might answer.”

“So how exactly was he involved?” Mary wondered, brandishing a tiny telescope and looking in the direction of the archway with her pony eye. The dragon eye kept staring at Cadance instead. “You don’t just dump every threatening foreigner into Tartarus, as far as I’m aware.”

“Of course not. Tirek can steal magic. Nopony knows exactly how,” Cadance explained. “He took all the magic the centaurs had, and then he came to Equestria. The more he steals, the more powerful he gets, the bigger he gets, the more magic he can steal. First the unicorn magic, then earth pony and pegasi magic… Celestia said that potentially, he could eat the Moon itself. They only defeated him the first time because they had early warning, and they had to use the Elements to do it.”

Wow. That’s kind of awesome in a scary way.

“Was that the ‘threat’ they got before the wedding?” Twilight asked.

“Yes,” Cadance nodded. “An anonymous letter came in, describing how somepony found Tirek hiding in a cave in the Foal Mountains, took pity on him, befriended him by bringing him food and heard of his plan to attack Canterlot. They tried to talk him out of it, but failed. The letter urged us to be merciful, intercept him before he can do any real harm and show him the error of his ways.”

Twilight smiled. “If somepony wrote that, maybe there’s still a chance.”

“That’s why Luna thought the letter might be genuine,” Cadance agreed. “It was what a decent pony would write.”

“Or a changeling queen,” Mary commented.

Twilight narrowed her eyes at her. “Are you sure?”

“I don’t have proof, but it fits my theory,” Mary replied. “That letter certainly served them as an effective distraction, didn’t it?”

“It could simply be a coincidence,” Rarity objected. “Why do you always have to presume the worst, darling?!”

“Because it keeps me alive,” Mary countered. “Not much chance of a coincidence, if he shows up here among a swarm of changelings, is there?”

Twilight sighed, folding her ears. “So what was the plan for dealing with Tirek?”

“Luna’s plan was to send the army to search for him, then teleport you in with the Elements,” Cadance replied. “Celestia’s plan was to put up a shield and invite you all to help with the wedding. If Tirek didn’t show up, at least you would get a prestigious business opportunity out of it, instead of just sitting around biting your hooves. They ended up doing both.”

“I have to admit that even though neither plan worked out, I like Princess Celestia’s plan better,” Rarity said.

“Without Luna’s plan, the airborne rangers would not be mobilized now,” Cadance replied, and unfurled her wings to greet the first sleepy crystal ponies guided by the guards.

✶                ✶                ✶

Twilight wanted me to stay with Cadance, but eventually, the chamber under the castle became way too crowded, because no matter what, the crystal ponies refused to enter the doors and hide inside, making up all kinds of excuses, and Cadance didn’t insist. Instead, they bunched around her so tightly, that there was no place for an apple to drop. I’m not sure if they were trying to shield her with their bodies or hide under her wings, really, but I can’t blame them. Cadance talked to each and every single one. I think she even remembers all the names we spent so much time trying to guess yesterday.

Something tells me there were more crystal ponies around, once…

Instead of standing there with them, we were hiding behind a corner of one of those tasty-looking crystal houses and watching Twilight and company, who were anxiously dithering – yeah, I think that’s a word – on a tiny hill, as frantic guards and crystal ponies ran past us in all directions, dimly lit by crystal streetlights.

Kinda brings me back. Not a memory I particularly wanted to bring back, really.

“Is this really a good idea?” Moondancer wondered, looking in the direction of the crystal archway. “Wouldn’t we be safer in the castle?”

We would be, I think. But that’s not where a brave dragon would go.

“Not particularly,” Mary replied. “Hooves stepping on feet hurt. Besides, I thought you’d jump at the chance to see the Elements activated up close one more time, this doesn’t come up often. And when the changelings get here… We’re exactly as useful against them as all the other civilians, that is, not very. But I think I might give them some pause.”

Her death ray sure gives me pause. At least she’s always sure to point the thing straight up.

“Um… I do know a few shield spells,” Moondancer objected. “Force Conjuration was one of my favorite disciplines.”

“Good,” Mary stated. “The Elements are definitely going to be a priority target.”

Suddenly, I heard a boom from the direction of the archway. It was Pinkie’s party cannon, which sent a whole bouquet of flares high up into the sky. Instead of burning out and sputtering in a cloud of sparkles like the usual fireworks, they scattered and started floating down on tiny parachutes, lighting everything like daylight and casting a hundred of sharp shadows all over.

The gasp of the crystal ponies could be heard all the way out here.

“They’re almost through…” Moondancer whispered, looking at the glittering cracks in the shield spell above our heads.

“Cover your ears,” Mary said, and we just had the time to do that, when the gigantic shield bubble over the city shattered, raining down blue shards of solid magic.

But instead of falling straight down, I saw them float towards the archway, like flakes in a snowglobe someone tilted to the side and just left to sit like that. Once I took the claws off my ears, I heard a hissing, sucking sound.

The dark figure on the other side of the archway, the weird silhouette of a pony with arms growing out of their neck, wrapped in something that resembled the fur of Fluttershy’s bear friend, was eating the shards, breathing them in, and growing just a little with each one. After a few pieces, he was so tall that his – I was now pretty sure it was a he, at least, he had a beard – horns bounced on the floating crystals on top of the archway. The fur ripped off him, revealing his own, deep red skin, and huge, bulging muscles. Some of the pieces of the shield fell nearby and vanished, melted into the ground, but there were still enough that made it all the way to him.

“Indeed, a perfect place for the next step,” I heard him say, in a voice that was calm and soft, and yet so loud, that you couldn’t help but hear it all the way here.

“FORMATION, NOW!” Twilight yelled, and they all floated up into the air, blazing with the magic of friendship. A wide sheet of rainbow unfurled, speeding towards Tirek in a curve. The giant centaur grinned briefly, and opened his mouth. The rainbow flooded the view, and then…

“What the flaming hell?” I heard Mary whisper. Moondancer just gasped, unable to say anything.

“I am insulted,” the centaur said in the same calm voice, which was now so much deeper and louder, utterly booming in my ears, “that even someone as weak-minded as an equine would dare to try the same magic on me a second time and expect it to work.”

It was booming, because he was now at least a third as tall as the castle, towering over the city in the fading light of Pinkie’s flares, his head lost somewhere among the floating, glowing blue eyes of the changeling swarm.

Twilight turned around to glance at the castle, and I only needed one look at her shocked face to know that if I’m going to do something, anything, I should start right now. Immediately. Yesterday, even. I turned around and grabbed at Mary’s skirt. “Mary, do something!”

Hey, I figure that’s my best chance of getting something done. When in trouble, ask an adult. We’re in some very big trouble here, so, prefer the biggest adult. She’s the tallest one nearby, that has to count for something.

“Like what?…” she muttered, ignoring my attempts to climb her dress, still staring at the giant monster. Mustn’t tear the dress, or Rarity will be mad at me.

“No idea. I know you told Twilight where Cadance was. Nopony knew, but you did!” I exclaimed. “It was your friend Rika who gave Lyra that crystal, and I know it was you who asked her to do it, I saw it! Call her again, I know you can!”

That actually got her attention. “If I ask Rika to interfere, I know exactly what she will do this time,” she replied, staring at me, the dragon eye swirling with shades of gold. “This place will be called the Molten North once she’s done. I don’t think we’re past the Godzilla thre–”

She suddenly froze in place.

Far out on the tiny hill, Twilight said something.

“Lord Tirek,” the giant hissed, drowning everything out. “And I have come to take what should have been mine long ago. Your attempts to stop me are, at best, amusing.”

But I wasn’t watching him, I was looking at Mary’s face, and the absolutely insane grin spreading slowly across it. That’s okay. We could do with some insane right now. It just needs to work once, and then it doesn’t matter if it was insane.

“I can’t do it in six words…” she mumbled, “But I can do it in thirty five.”

And suddenly, she ran towards the nearest hill, and I ran after her, still holding the hem of her dress, as fast as I even could. Whatever she has in mind, we don’t have the time to do anything else. “Moondancer, cast your shield!” she cried.

As we were enveloped in the milky shield bubble, Mary crouched before me and turned me around to face the monster, his silhouette hovering above her head.

“Look into my eyes, not at him,” she whispered.

“Which one?”

“Either. Both. Doesn’t matter, just look!” she hissed. “Repeat after me. My family is my treasure.”

“My family is my treasure,” I repeated uncertainly. Is this magic? She doesn’t know any magic, Twilight is pretty certain of it. It doesn’t feel like magic, but… it feels weird. Like the word “treasure” is scratching at the back of my head, from the inside.

“My friends are my treasure.”

“My friends are my treasure,” I repeated again. I’m not so sure about friends. I’m not sure if I really know how to make friends, but… Lots of ponies tried their best to be good friends to me, and I tried to do as they do. I don’t always succeed, but they say I’m doing alright. And you don’t spend so much time around Twilight without all her lessons rubbing off on you.

“Ponies are their magic.”

“Ponies are their magic,” I repeated. Twilight definitely is, in every sense of every word. Rarity… She’d be devastated if she somehow lost her spells and her cutie mark. I wouldn’t want that to happen.

“This monster came for their magic. This monster came for my treasure.”

“This monster came for their magic. This monster came for my treasure,” I repeated, feeling something slowly change within me. Like lava bubbling somewhere deep in my stomach, right below my heart, heating it up. He dares. They’re my friends, they’re my family! They’re my treasure!

“I need to be stronger. I need to be bigger.”

“I need to be stronger. I need to be…”

I suddenly realized I don’t see her anymore. Only the face of that centaur, that red face with that stupid ring in his nose, the face of the one who came for my hoard, right in front of mine.

I tried to speak, but only a roar came out of my mouth. It’s so hard to think…

I don’t *need** to think.*

MINE!

Author's Note

Sorry for the long wait, but I hope it was worth it anyway. I told you Spike gets to be a hero. Well, in this Equestria, Secret of My Excess hasn’t happened yet, and now, it’s not going to.

Next chapter, Shining Armor gets to do something awesome.

Conversation 39: Shining Armor

“I am insulted, that even someone as weak-minded as an equine would dare to try the same magic on me a second time and expect it to work,” the centaur said so loudly, that I heard him at least a quarter mile away.

If there was ever a particular moment when everything with this whole expedition went wrong, that was it, writ large across the darkness of the night in the blue glow of changeling eyes. We have not even had enough time to finish evacuating the crystal ponies, let alone set up an effective formation to repel the changelings. All over the city, red flares lit up, as squads came into contact with the enemy and started calling for air support.

I immediately stopped everything I was doing – not that I was useful for much beyond boosting morale at this point – and galloped towards the archway as fast as I could, ignoring the swarm swooping down around me. I wasn’t sure what exactly was I planning to actually do, once I got there, but that didn’t matter anymore. Anything. Distract him. Sing him a lullaby. Cast a flash spell. Poke his legs with my horn. Anything at all to give Twilight another chance. We have no magic to deal with a giant monster here, no artillery, nothing… except the Elements of Harmony. They might have failed once, but they remain our only option. Anything that gives Twilight and her friends an extra second to figure out why the first attempt failed and try again is worth it. I have a very smart sister. If there is harmony in the world, she will find the way.

But if Tirek sucks the magic out of them, all is lost. Cadance stands no chance. By the time Princess Luna gets here, Tirek will be completely invincible.

“Lord Tirek. And I have come to take what should have been mine long ago. Your attempts to stop me are, at best, amusing.”

Damn it, I’m not going to make it in time…

And then I had to skid across the ground to avoid crashing into a bubble shield, frightening off a squad of changelings that was about to try their teeth on it. Just who put this here?! As I was rearing up to go around it and continue my last ditch gallop into the cold darkness, the shield popped open, torn apart by the rapidly growing, purple something. The vanishing bubble disgorged a human like a lost afterthought and tossed her straight into my face.

I caught her in my magic and immediately forgot about her, transfixed by the sight for a moment. I have never been that close to an ancient dragon before. Certainly not close enough to potentially get stepped on.

“A-ha-ha-ha-ha, go get him, Spike!”

The purple monster above our heads let out a roar that was loud enough to rattle the glass in nearby windows, and lunged towards Tirek, covering most of the distance between them in a single leap. His ridiculously long snakelike tail slapped across the ground, crushing several houses next to us into shiny, sharp-looking rubble, shaking the ground and very nearly causing me to lose balance.

It’s a good thing we started the evacuation with the outskirts.

Wait, Spike?!… “What the hay did you do to him?!” I shouted at the human. It wouldn’t take much effort to snap the fragile creature in half…

“Obscure quirk of dragon biology,” she responded, a triumphant, crazy grin splashed across her face. “Reversible.”

Lots of questions queued up in my head, but without hesitation, I dismissed every single one. She did exactly the sort of thing I was hoping to do myself. For exactly the same reasons, I’m sure. It took me a moment to realize that her legs are dangling in the air, and I reluctantly put her down. Everything else can wait until morning.

If we ever see that morning. Spike’s first lunge brought him within striking distance of Tirek, and he slashed a claw across the black coat of the centaur’s chest. A subdued grunt of pain out of the centaur was the only tangible result. Instead of a proper gash, I just saw a shallow scratch parting the hair, which started clotting and knitting itself closed even before Spike had the time to raise the other claw.

“Damn, what is he doing?!” I exclaimed. I don’t know just where centaurs keep their kidneys, hardly anypony knows, when the entire people are but a memory. But I’m not sure even striking the weaker spots will do much good, and slashing right across the ribs is a stupid move, Tirek already has way too much magic. If he were that easy to hurt, I’d have ordered a terminal velocity dive bombing, using the lances we captured from Sombra’s troops for ammunition. We would lose ponies, but we’d win.

“He’s running on instinct,” Mary replied. “Dragons in the state of greed growth are barely conscious.”

The centaur slammed his gigantic fist into the middle of Spike’s own chest, which pushed the dragon back and resulted in a reflexive jet of fire that singed Tirek’s nose. Undeterred, Spike pushed ahead.

If I don’t do something, the boy’s going to get himself killed.

I considered my options. And then I galloped ahead, leaving the human alone in the middle of a ruined street. Normally, I wouldn’t abandon a lady like this, but I’m certain she will manage.

When Twilight learns something new, she occasionally gets that insatiable drive to teach it to somepony in turn, and while she still lived in Canterlot, that somepony would often turn out to be me. When the subject is sufficiently fascinating, she won’t let off until you practice it with her and achieve at least some results.

A year ago that happened to gravity vector redirection spells. I’m very nearly running on fumes here, but ten minutes will have to do.

I’m not sure if Spike even felt me galloping up his back, but all I worried about was that he wouldn’t suddenly decide to shake me off. It’s a long way down. I’m not sure I ever ran that fast, but as I ran, I had to get another spell ready, and that had to be done just in time, too.

“Spike, DUCK!” I yelled, as I finally reached the relatively level space between his ears. Funny, you never notice them when he’s small, just a tiny opening between the scales in a tuft of green. My double-size jousting shield only survived for half a second, before shattering and falling away into Tirek’s bottomless gaping maw, but that was enough time for Spike to get his head out of the funnel, and me with it. I felt the deadly torrent of the air completely devoid of magic rush right above my head, painfully singing the very tip of my horn, and almost disrupting my gravity spell.

“Now, right uppercut into his chin, like I taught you!” I yelled again.

The motion of the purple arm felt painfully slow, and yet, for the gigantic size Spike was at the moment, it was ridiculously fast. He must have actually been practicing. Tirek flailed his own arms, trying to brush Spike’s arm away like an insect, he tried to dodge, but didn’t make it in time. The sharp point of the thumb’s talon collided with Tirek’s face, catching on the nose ring. As the punch threw his head all the way back, the nose gave way, leaving the slightly bloodied ring to dangle off the talon. “Grab his horns!” I shouted. “Hold his head like that!”

An indistinct growl was the only verbal answer I got, but the other purple arm came up, and while the slightly dazed centaur was flailing his own, both of Spike’s claws locked firmly around the sprawling horns. It took just a moment for Tirek to regain his wits, but it was already too late – the only objects remaining for him to drain magic from would be the Moon and the scattered groups of changelings floating above us on their iridescent wings. I don’t know how big he has to get to drain the Moon itself, but it’s safe to say that moment has yet to come, or we would be beneath his notice entirely.

Why aren’t the changelings trying to take me out? They can’t do much about Spike, but knocking me off to the ground would be easy even if he stood still. Is there no friendship among thieves?

No time for that. Tirek’s arms were busy pawing at Spike’s body and getting dangerously close to gripping his neck. “Use your tail! Your tail is long enough to wrap him up now!”

The snaking appendage whipped through the air, swatting a curious changeling away with no malice or aforethought, and bound Tirek’s arms tightly to his protruding torso.

“Good job, Spike!” I breathed out. For a while, Tirek is not going anywhere, and while this pose surely is uncomfortable for Spike to maintain, it has to be magnitudes more unpleasant for Tirek.

“Leave it to a race as despicable as ponies to send a lizard after me,” the centaur growled out when he finally realized that he can’t just break the hold. “What did they buy you with, dragon? Friendship? Don’t you see that you are but a pet to them?”

Oh no you don’t. “His name is Spike!” I shouted. “And he is no pet, he’s my little brother!” I wouldn’t normally say something like that. It feels slightly weird, but… it’s close enough to the truth that all the subtle distinctions and legal fictions don’t matter.

That seemed to have struck a nerve, because the roar Tirek let out upon hearing that felt pained, rather than just annoyed, and I realized something I originally missed. While the gigantic centaur gorged on the magic of harmony that he somehow managed to consume and the dragon prematurely grown way beyond his years have comparable size, for whatever reason, Spike has no wings. But centaurs have two extra legs. They don’t seem to be quite as flexible as ours, but since Spike’s tail is busy holding on to Tirek too…

I had to readjust the gravity vector very fast, holding on for dear life, as Tirek reared, lifting Spike into the air and twirling around. “Hold fast, Spike!” I shouted, as I heard the glassy sounds of houses being crushed somewhere below. “You must keep him away from Twilight!”

I saw Spike tighten the coil of his tail around Tirek and breathe a short flare out, lighting the dangling beard on fire. At least Tirek isn’t trying to cast anything. Dragon scales are notoriously magic-resistant, but they aren’t there to keep magic out of the dragon, their job is to bottle it in. Mouth and eyes are the only vulnerable spots, but one good breach in the scales, and I’m sure that Tirek can deflate Spike like a balloon, no matter what we do.

“Get off me, you spineless whelp!” Tirek shouted, struggling to get free. I’ll count myself lucky if I get out of this alive, but not ending up deaf will be an outright miracle.

“My brother is the bravest dragon I know,” I replied. “You’ve got a lot of nerve calling him spineless, after calling the changelings in to do your own dirty work.”

“They begged for my cooperation,” Tirek retorted. “As they by all rights should!”

He’s calming down, even the thrashing has stopped. We can’t have that. I’ve got to keep him enraged and distracted, while Spike still has the strength to restrain him, there’s no telling how long this “greed growth” is going to last. If Tirek figures out a way to cast a spell on us, this time will be cut short. “Well, if that’s true, then tell me something, ‘Lord’ Tirek. What are you doing this for? Why do you want everybody’s magic?”

“Because it should be mine!”

Tough customer. But everypony tells me I’m a good interrogator. “Suppose it should be. Suppose you can even get it. What are you going to do, once you have all the power in the world?”

“Power is its own reason,” he stated firmly, which looked all the more comical with his beard mostly burned to a crisp, his bloodied face still pointing towards the sky.

I only allowed myself that grin because I knew he can’t see it. “So they haven’t told you.”

“Told me what?!” he breathed out.

Now that’s what I call a captive audience. “As far as anypony knows, you’re the last centaur alive. Your entire kingdom collapsed many centuries ago. Even if the centaurs were able to live without magic, they did not thrive. The gargoyles? They vanished even sooner, they are just a heraldic symbol now. Take away all the power, and everything dies. Call us ponies weak-minded, fine. We sure are a more magical people than most, we wouldn’t last a moon. But we would just be the first ones out. Eat all the magic in the world, and soon, very soon, you will be all alone. Forever. You want power? For power’s sake? I don’t think you’re that stupid. What are you afraid of, Tirek?! What scared you so much, that you’d rather kill off the entire world than face it?!”

And then I squished myself into the warm scaly surface of Spike’s head and pressed my ears closed with my hooves in preparation for his reply.

And what a reply it was.

Just as I expected, there was nothing intelligible in it, just a roar of blind, all-consuming rage, the loudest one yet. I am not sure if centaurs were related to minotaurs in any way or not, but if nothing else, this is a trait they both seem to share with bovines – a short fuse, culminating in blind, unthinking fury. The thrashing started again in earnest, and more muffled sounds of cracking glass reached me from deep down below.

I kept my ears closed and held on, doing my damnedest to keep the gravity pressing me in the correct direction, so when the wave of the music of harmony reached us, I felt it long before I saw it – and I saw it with my eyes long before it got loud enough to drown out the roar, as the spire of the castle lit up like a small, golden sun, casting sharp shadows across Tirek’s face. The urge to sing along to the music I can’t even hear was difficult to ignore. Even Spike eventually turned to look towards the light, captured by the moment.

That moment of relaxation was all Tirek needed to finally wrestle out of the hold, tearing Spike off and sending us hurtling across the city. The last thing I saw before we hit the ground was his gaping mouth, the shimmering funnel of dead air directed at the shining spire.

Author's Note

Go, Spikezilla, go!

Now, I’m leaving you on another cliffhanger, to go and investigate what has been happening elsewhere in the city…

Conversation 40: Lyra Heartstrings

The guard stumbled and his light spell faded out as he lost concentration. For a few seconds, we marched on in complete darkness, until he bumped into a closed door and lit his horn again to open it.

“…Are we lost?” I wondered, throwing a glance behind me to make sure Bon-Bon is still there. The castle wasn’t quite as labyrinthine as the Canterlot Castle, but that “not quite” was still more than sufficient. While the Canterlot Castle acquired this property over a thousand years of partial destruction, expansion and reconstruction, this one was built like that from the start. The spirals and dragon curves of the main storage coil woven through the crystal skeleton frame meant that living space had to take what was left. While the main corridors are straight as an arrow, I can’t help but imagine Discord getting lost in the side passages. There is a rule of symmetry here, but it would take a mathematician with a sledgehammer to put a hoof on it.

At least all the plumbing seems to work correctly. Cadance told me there are whole sections of Canterlot Castle where the pipes appear to cross into alternate dimensions.

“No, I am quite sure we’re almost there, madam,” the guard replied confidently.

Even our guest room wasn’t actually a perfect rectangle – not enough to make it an actual problem, but just enough to make you notice. Bon-Bon found it so unsettling, that she kept glowering at the walls for half an hour before finally going to sleep.

It’s not like she was just being pedantic, either, although she often is. If Mary’s information is correct, Sombra left us at least one nasty surprise in this castle. Who knows if there are any others…

“We were ‘almost there’ at least twenty minutes and seven floors ago,” I insisted, “That counts as lost. Did Cadance say she wants to see me somewhere specific, or are we just drifting aimlessly hoping to bump into her?”

If it is my fate to be lost inside a crystal castle, I could do this without dragging Bon-Bon around with me. She spent most of the day hauling crates across the stadium and needs sleep more than I do.

“I am just a messenger, madam,” the guard looked at me, smiling that fake plastic smile, the kind you see on a newspaper photo.

On the other hoof, if it is my fate to be lost inside a crystal castle, Bon-Bon is just the pony who would get us out of it. Now if I could only get that guard to get lost separately, because I’m pretty sure I don’t like him, and it’s not just for being the bearer of unpleasant royal requests.

“O-o-o-o-o-o-ho-ho-ho-ho!”

The guard stopped dead in his tracks, baring his teeth like a griffon and spun his spear around, dropping it into the latch on the side of his armor. Pointy end first. What’s going on? I glanced at Bon-Bon and saw her with her ears folded, staring intently along the corridor in front of us.

It’s almost like she’s afraid of something.

“O-o-o-o-o-o-ho-ho-ho!” came the sound – this time, from the opposite end of the corridor. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is on to your deception! You are surrounded! Come out with your hooves up!”

Ah, so that’s what it is.

“What, all four of them?” I called back. “Be reasonable, Trixie!”

From somewhere nearby, which was neither the corridor in front of us, nor the corridor behind us, came the distinctive sound of Trixie choking down a laugh. Which usually sounds like a sputtering steam engine somepony is trying to strangle with a pillow.

“We have a hostage!” I insisted, pointing at the guard. “I require ten thousand bits in new unmarked coins and an air carriage! With real pegasi to drive it, this time!”

Bon-Bon threw a terrified glance at me, and that was the moment when I finally felt something is really, really, terribly, fundamentally wrong. Much more wrong than I had any right to think based on just getting woken up in the middle of the night.

But before I had a chance to say anything, a door in the side of the corridor flew open and smashed Bon-Bon into the wall, narrowly missing my own face. My heart skipped a beat. I haven’t even had time to gasp, as a bright flash drowned out my vision, leaving snaking afterimages and concentrating my senses on the new, odd smell, that was so much like the smell of burning hair, but not quite…

“The Great and Powerful Trixie saves the day again!” she proclaimed loudly. “I’m not sure what they were planning to do with you, but it can’t be anything good.”

They?…

Trixie zapped a royal guard with what has to be a lightning bolt spell, hit Bon-Bon with a door, and she’s still alive?

It took some more time for my vision to clear, but the first thing I saw once it did was Trixie’s triumphant toothy grin and proud pose over the bodies of two changelings. One of them was wearing royal guard armor. Smoking, charred royal guard armor. In contrast, Trixie’s silly conical hat was glowing like a beautiful paper lantern, bathing everything in warm blue and gold hues.

“…Th-thanks,” I stammered out. Trixie is very sensitive about praise, and I couldn’t in good conscience deny some was due. I didn’t suspect a thing until she interfered. “How did you know?”

And where’s Bon-Bon?! Just when did they replace her?!

“Three ponies come into a dark room, six ponies come out,” Trixie grinned. “Not a very good trick, even somepony who is not so Great and Powerful would crack this immediately.”

Mother always told me it’s impolite to hold tails in public, because all the ponies who don’t have a special somepony will be sad. I swear she gets an earful the moment I can arrange this.

“How did you pick the group with me in it?” I wondered.

“This was a trivial deduction for the Great and Powerful Trixie!” she exclaimed. “Logically, either of the two groups would have to include exactly one real pony, and it could only be either you or that marefriend of yours.” She sighed, “All right, all right, I didn’t! You just got lucky.”

Bon-Bon wasn’t so lucky. I have to go find her!

I jumped in place, but then stopped myself. Bon-Bon, the confectioner, might not be expected to hold her own against two dangerous creatures, but I have seen Sweetie Drops the special agent wipe the floor with five, and the only thing that held her back was worrying that I might not approve. One of them wearing my face will not delay her for longer than it takes to ask “Say my name.”

She always told me I’m inimitable, anyway, even though sometimes she didn’t mean it as a compliment. No, the right thing to do is to stay put and let her find me. Because I’m pretty sure I am lost, even if Trixie somehow isn’t, and if Trixie is, it will take until morning to get her to admit it.

“What were you even doing here?” I wondered, edging away from the corpses, while trying to make it look more casual than it really was.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie was doing something none of you had the guts to do!” she proclaimed. “Searching for the artifact of unparalleled magical power, required to save the poor crystal ponies! It is hidden somewhere in the castle, isn’t it? The Crystal Heart?”

“It should be,” I confirmed. “You weren’t with us when we discussed it, though.” In fact, she mysteriously vanished from the train altogether and never turned up for the entire day afterwards.

“One of the perks of being the personal student of a Princess,” Trixie flashed a grin at me. “Secrets.”

“How did you land that gig, anyway?” I asked. “After I graduated and moved back to Ponyville, everypony kept in touch, they turn up in town almost every week. Even Moondancer wrote me a few times. But you, you just dropped off the face of the Earth, like Twilight.”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie does not just reveal her secrets!” she rejected sternly.

She always liked her theatrics, but this is a bit overboard. “O Trixie!” I exclaimed, “Do enlighten your humble servant, how did you get so Great and Powerful?… Seriously, it’s perfect for the stage, but what happened? We’re not on stage now, you can tell me. If I knew you were doing magic shows, I’d make the trip anywhere in Equestria just to see one. Hay, I’d recommend you for a job in special effects on Bridleway! But the first thing I heard of it was you dropping out of the sky next to the town hall!”

Trixie sighed. “I don’t remember, alright? Seriously,” she said, blushing and turning away from me.

“What do you mean you don’t remember?!”

“I think I cast Clover’s Covariant Cognizance sometime after you graduated, and edited out a bit more context than I wanted,” she explained.

A make-me-unsee-that spell from the Second Celestial Era. Which definitely never had anything to do with Clover the Clever, it’s a classical spell written in early pre-reform Canterlot Standard notation. Works only on the caster, which is why… “Are you out of your little pony mind?” I exclaimed.

“Well, maybe I was, but I’m not anymore, am I?” she snapped. “You’d think I would leave myself a note to explain why, but I didn’t. I probably had a reason, right? Maybe I decided I need to reinvent myself, so I did. I’m rather pleased with the results! My first tour across Equestria was the happiest my life has ever been!”

She still tosses her nose up the same way Trixie always did. If anything, this “reinvented” Trixie is even more Trixie than the filly I remember from school, if that’s even possible.

“I would be even happier if I didn’t have to remember Twilight Sparkle either,” she grumbled under her breath, without looking at me. “But once I stumbled on that little speck of a town, once Twilight humiliated me yet again, most of it came back,” she hissed. “So I tried figuring out dream magic on my own from first principles, to see if maybe I can find something Twilight Sparkle can’t cast better than me. That’s when Princess Luna found me and recognized my—”

She was interrupted by a groan coming from the floor. The changeling she hit with a door was stirring. “Oh, still alive, you tricky thing,” Trixie grinned viciously, turning to loom over the creature. “None of the changelings taken prisoner in Canterlot deigned to talk to the Great and Powerful Trixie. Trixie was annoyed. Trixie was annoyed very much. It’s very important for Trixie’s education to know more about your species. And there’s only so much that can be discovered by studying a dead specimen.”

“P-p-please don’t hurt me,” the changeling whimpered.

It’s strange how little do you need sometimes to change your mind about things. Talking. What was a horrifying monster just seconds ago, now looked pitiful like a dog the owner forgot and left alone in the rain.

Yes, dogs don’t talk.

You know what I meant.

“Why, does Trixie have a reason to?” Trixie inquired, with unconcealed sarcasm. “Did you do anything to warrant Trixie hurting you? Beside being a little pony-eating monster, that is. Because, know this, you bug person, this is Equestria. We don’t hold it against people that they can eat people. Ponies can eat people, if they try hard enough. What makes us really angry is when people do eat people.”

“I have not eaten anyone, please don’t kill me!” the changeling shivered, covering his eyes – at least the voice is masculine, though it took me a few seconds to realize that – with his hooves, and peeking through the holes.

“Hush, Trixie, you’re scaring him,” I said, gently pushing her aside. I didn’t expect her to let me, but she did. The other thing I didn’t expect was the changeling letting out a shriek and trying to sink through the floor as I approached, with rather pathetic results. It’s like he’s afraid of me more than he is afraid of Trixie.

It did not take me long to figure out why. Part of his right ear was missing, sliced cleanly off with something incredibly sharp, barely scabbed over with a fresh layer of chitin.

I took a deep breath. “Tell me, changeling, do you have a name? Do your people even have names? What should we call you?”

It took him a while to answer. “Thorax. M-my name is Thorax.”

“So tell me, Thorax,” I said, slowly sitting on the floor before him, trying to avoid any sudden motions. “Why are you the only changeling that speaks at all? I have heard changelings talk while transformed, but none of you ever tried to communicate once revealed.”

“B-because I’m broken,” he stammered out. “I have always been different, ever since I hatched. I’m ‘deaf.’ A little deaf. Not completely deaf. I don’t hear Mother the way the rest of the clutch do. I was the weakest little larva. Mother says I’m useful, because I show initiative! But my brothers hate me. They say I’m a freak!”

And here I thought humans were weird. It almost sounds like changelings treat individuality itself as a disability. How utterly strange… No wonder my first thoughts upon seeing them in action were of shock at how identical they are. “So why are you still with them? You’re a changeling. You could turn into a pony and nopony would notice. You can imitate ponies. That’s what our legends say you have always done.”

“Because ponies are terrifying,” he whispered, removing the hooves from his blank, glowing eyes and staring at me. “I was afraid of you before, but in Canterlot, I saw, I heard your song, I felt the magic…” He jerked his damaged ear. “You ponies have rules, right? If I surrender, you’re supposed to treat me well, right?”

“If we were soldiers, yes,” Trixie piped up. “We aren’t.”

“Hush, o Great and Powerful one!” I tossed at her and looked back at the changeling. “It’s more complicated than it could be. But I promise I won’t try to hurt you until you try to hurt somepony else, and I won’t even ask you to surrender. You’ll have to live with that.”

Thorax relaxed somewhat, but that only lasted a second. “I m-must tell you something,” he started, stammering, trying to speak faster than his jaws would move. “M-mother is going to send the entire hive to attack this city soon, but that’s just a distraction. My group was supposed to charm you to get the Crystal Heart out for her and run away, while you’re fighting this… She found this monster, this destroyer, brought him to some cave in the Crystal Mountains and fed him, so that he’d get stronger… She h-hates you all… hates you all so much… I don’t know why, nobody knows, we’re just her latest clutch, but what happened in Canterlot was the last straw, she… This is madness. She thinks he’s too stupid to notice she doesn’t expect him to win. But he’s not that stupid, and he’s never going to stop eating. She’s going to get everyone killed, all the changelings, all the ponies, everywhere. You have to stop him, before it’s too late!”

“Stop whom?” Trixie poked in again, her ears twitching against the brim of her hat.

“His name is Tirek. I don’t know where he came from, but he eats magic. All magic.”

Now this is serious. The sky is falling kind of serious. I know that legend.

“So why are you telling us this, you… Thorax?” Trixie said, leaning in closer. “I don’t think spilling your mother’s plans will be taken well.”

“Because,” he turned to look at her, and suddenly, there was a hint of steel in his voice. “Because I love my Mother!”

It was the tone. It was the way he said it that convinced me, because I could tell. Saying something like that, even to complete strangers like us, required incredible courage from him, more than I expect to see from anyone, let alone have any right to expect, and more than I tend to show myself.

I stood up. “Harmony is for everyone, Thorax. If you truly wish your mother well… When I sing, you will sing with me. Now go. Don’t give me a reason to change my mind.”

I turned away. Soon, after some uncertain shuffling, I heard the clatter of chitinous hooves on the floor behind me, and then, it was gone.

“Was that really such a good idea?” Trixie wondered.

“No, it wasn’t,” I said. “But it was the dramatically appropriate thing to do.”

Suddenly, another door in the side of the corridor burst open, and in came Bon-Bon, breathing heavily.

“Welcome back, Sw—”

Being silenced with a kiss is my favorite way to get silenced.

Author's Note

As you can obviously guess, we’re closing in on the ending of this particular story arc. And the next chapter has a high chance of involving poetry…

P.S. Dragon curves have comparatively little to do with dragons.

Conversation 41: Applejack

As far as I could tell, we were as good as dead. Not right now, but in a matter of hours, sure as sunshine. As long as there is any, cause there might not be any sunshine anymore. Not that I was about to say it, mind, but that would be the honest thing to say. Which was why I was keeping my mouth shut.

“What the HADES happened, Twilight?” Rainbow yelled, knocking a diving changeling out of the way. The poor thing twirled around and landed into the crystal pavement. The glowing green shield that was meant to protect him on contact ended up covering the wrong end. It was rather nasty to look at.

The other one was aiming at me. I dodged out of the way, and he landed shield first, leaving a running crack in the crystal. He was back on his hooves in an instant, snarling right into my face.

One solid buck took care of that, sending him careening into the wall of a nearby house.

Twilight didn’t answer.

“Mind your language, Rainbow Dash!” Rarity admonished, punching the two changelings that landed next to her right into the glowing blue eyes, a single graceful motion. Their shrieking made it clear they won’t be a problem for a while.

“Who cares about language? This is worse than Nightmare Moon!” Rainbow countered, swooping down and knocking another changeling away.

“Precisely!” Rarity exclaimed. “A lady doesn’t want her friends to remember her swearing like a soldier in her final moments!”

“This is not my final moment! I’m going to be a Wonderbolt!” Rainbow declared, knocking yet another changeling out. “And Wonderbolts are soldiers! So I will swear a–”

She was about to say something else, but the blast of Pinkie’s cannon drowned it out, whatever it was, blowing a group of changelings away with a cloud of confetti.

I don’t see this sort of smile on Pinkie’s face often. I prefer not to think of the other times when I did. And confetti isn’t supposed to work like that. Maybe. Where’s Fluttershy? I know she’s okay, with this Element on my neck I can feel her heart beating, but I can’t see her. Right, she’s right behind me. Did she just scare off seven changelings that were about to jump me?…

After the Elements didn’t work, and when that giant dragon suddenly appeared out of nowhere and joined the battle, we retreated towards the castle. Or tried to. The swarm descending on us made it mighty difficult. We had to fight our way through, and I still wasn’t sure what the plan is now, or if there even is one, but it rightly resembled a panicked escape.

Let’s not mince words, it was. Nothing of the sort happened before.

Suddenly, everything stopped. It took me a second to notice we were now standing under a milky white shield bubble. Scanning around, I noticed Moondancer’s blazing horn and Mary standing next to her – damned ghostly dresses, but I guess they kept them safe, so I shouldn’t complain. All around us, changelings were bouncing against the newly erected shield like moths against a window.

That was when a squad of Royal Guard finally got to us, and the battle was joined in earnest, but for a time, we were safe. As safe as could be expected, at least.

“Where’s Spike?” was Twilight’s first question to Moondancer. “I left him with you two, where is Spike?!”

Moondancer gritted her teeth, straining to keep the magic running, so the answer came from Mary. “You can see him just fine from here,” she pointed at the horizon.

I knew that purple was familiar. Well, what do you know.

“What is he doing?!” Twilight blurted out, her eyes widening in realization. “…How is he doing it?! Who’s that standing on his head?! Where is the mass–”

“Later,” Mary cut her off. “Your brothers are buying you time. Everypony else is helping. Use the time well.”

“You still didn’t answer,” Rainbow insisted. “What the hay happened?”

“It’s a lesson,” Twilight replied in a shocked tone as she sunk to sit on the crystal street. “It’s another damned lesson. It’s got to be!”

When she’s started talking like that, it’s time for me to step in. “Now what did I tell you about treating everything as homework?”

Twilight ignored me. “Could she have planned this?…” she babbled on, “I can’t be sure, right? Maybe she didn’t? She can’t plan everything, that would be just impossible!”

I grabbed her shoulder and shook it a bit. “You’re not making sense, Twilight. Start by saying all the obvious things. They aren’t so obvious to us.”

That, at least, got her to look at me. “Princess Celestia,” she finally said after taking a deep breath. “I’m wondering if she can plan so far ahead, endanger so many ponies, just to arrange a teachable moment.”

“Not unless she’s into quantum suicide,” Mary tossed at Twilight over her shoulder, looking at the clash of the titans above.

“She can’t be, can she?” Twilight pleaded. “Or maybe she can. Or maybe she can’t. What am I thinking?!…” My hoof tingled, as every hair in her mane, still tangled after bed, started curling up simultaneously.

“Twilight,” came a soft voice from next to me. Fluttershy.

“What?”

“Twilight, why do you think Princess Celestia had anything to do with it?” Fluttershy asked.

I threw a glance at Moondancer, who was obviously not used to having her shields being employed as an anvil for smashing changelings. Which was what the Royal Guards outside were doing. Is that really the right time to ask that?…

No, wait. It is. If we’re going to get out of this mess, Twilight needs to be sane. Talking is how you get a pony sane, and Fluttershy is better at it than me. When she isn’t fretting about and hiding behind things, but we all have our faults.

“Because…” Twilight took a deep breath. “Because she does this. I was just a little filly, but eventually, I noticed. She is always so busy, she never had as much time for me as she wanted. So she would give me tasks. And it’s always like she knows in advance, how I will try to solve the problem, what I will do, what stumbles me, how I will fail. It’s like the one pony I’m always sure to confront is myself. I don’t know how she does this, but… She means well, I know she does, but… This…” Twilight looked up and stared at Fluttershy. “This was how I met you, girls. You can’t say that was a bad thing, can you?”

“Did you try to talk to her about it?” Fluttershy pressed on.

Twilight almost visibly shriveled. It took me a moment to realize it’s just the hairs that were standing on ends settling down. “I did. Sort of. You were there.”

I sighed. Oh boy. That scene at the wedding had to be the first time Twilight ever insisted her Princess was wrong. She did, and the Princess still turned it around and made it look like that was what she wanted all along. And then we stumble into this mess, and I’m sure Twilight blames herself. Not a mental image I wanted to have. Not a mental image Twilight deserves, either. If we ever get out alive, my next letter to Princess Celestia is sure to contain a few nasty words.

“I could never imagine a genius being so stupid,” Fluttershy said, barely above a whisper, and yet the ice in these words was enough to make me shiver.

Twilight folded her ears. She clearly didn’t expect that. I didn’t expect that. I heard that while I was out delivering pies and chasing Apple Bloom around, Fluttershy went to some kind of assertiveness seminar, run by a passing minotaur, of all people, and scared Pinkie and Rarity out of their coats. Apologies were involved. I kind of knew she can be downright terrifying, but this… It feels like I’m a little filly caught with my hoof in the cookie jar, and I’m not even the one Flutters is looking at!

“Who do you think Celestia is, that she would do such a thing? What kind of monster have you imagined?! Who do you think you are, Twilight?” Fluttershy pressed on. “Who are you, that ponies die, that empires fall, that monsters rampage and destroy, all just to teach you a lesson?!”

There was no reply. Just tears welling up in the corners of Twilight’s eyes.

“Princess Celestia is not here,” Fluttershy added.

Twilight jerked an ear.

“You had it right, at the wedding. She has been here, a thousand years ago. Right now, you are. Moondancer is here. Lyra is here, somewhere. The ponies that Princess Celestia knew nothing about. We are here. And I don’t think she knows all that much about us, either. Stop imagining her shadow behind every corner!”

This green glow of that dress of hers is hurting my eyes.

“She doesn’t know all that much about you, full stop!” Pinkie grinned, suddenly peeking out from behind Twilight. Trust Pinkie to break the tension, I’m pretty sure Twilight was about to break down and cry. “She just does this because you surprise her so much. When you’re older than Equestria, being surprised is hard! So wake up and surprise her! You can do it! Group hug!”

She wrapped around Twilight like only Pinkie can, and with that, even the scary Fluttershy was suddenly gone, and the nice, sweet one was back in her place, in the pile of smiling ponies, hidden somewhere between Rarity and Rainbow.

But before joining them, I threw a glance at Moondancer. “C’mon.”

“Don’t mind me, I’m not into hugs,” Moondancer grunted. That didn’t help her, because Pinkie grabbed at her and pulled her into the pile anyway.

The shield wobbled. “Damn it, Pinkie Pie!” Moondancer hissed, but shut up immediately once Twilight wrapped a foreleg around her. The human chose to politely turn away.

“Thanks, girls. I needed that,” Twilight breathed out.

We don’t really have the time to keep this tender moment going on longer than absolutely necessary. Let’s get back on track here. “So tell me, Twilight,” I said, once I felt the pause dragged on for long enough. “You did learn something, set up or no. What was it?”

“What did I learn?…” Twilight mumbled, crawling out of the pile. “It’s… It’s simple, really. I know what happened. I know what happened, and it’s all my fault.”

Everypony dispersed and were now standing huddled around Twilight. Rainbow, ever disdainful of the ground, hovered right above my head, listening attentively for once.

“We’ve been treating the Elements of Harmony as a weapon,” Twilight said. “Point and shoot, fix everything. We always thought they are, on some level. They aren’t. Moondancer is right, they’re a miracle engine. Together. Each fills a specific function, has power in its own right, but together, they break the laws of magic in the name of harmony. They directly transmute the power of friendship into energy. Into magic. As much magic as you need to restore harmony.”

“So why didn’t they work?!” Rainbow exclaimed. Sheesh, right into my ear.

“They did,” Twilight insisted. “That’s the problem! The default form is a dark magic neutralizer. That’s what they do if you don’t tell them what to do, they purify everything!”

“What about Discord?” Mary wondered. “That bit has always been weird.”

“With Discord, I knew it wouldn’t work on him,” Twilight explained. “I asked for a chaos magic neutralizer, and that’s what they did. I’m pretty sure that’s how they turned him to stone the first time, too. I don’t know what Discord really is, but no matter how twisted, he has never been a corrupted being.”

Moondancer gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. Rarity facehoofed. Mary sighed. Sounds like even the human got it. “I feel like I’m the only one who still didn’t understand,” I commented.

“You and me both,” Rainbow agreed.

“It’s technical,” Twilight said. “To put it short, there’s no counterspell for dark magic, it’s mathematically impossible. You can’t just cancel parts out and let the oscillation destabilize.”

“So you have to apply brute force!” Pinkie piped up. “My least favorite kind of force. It’s big, it’s mean, and nopony likes when it comes to party, it’s actually kind of sad.”

“Yes,” Twilight nodded, not even bothering to wonder why Pinkie understood her better than I did. “You need a broad-spectrum anti-phase wave of equivalent amplitude. And this was what the Elements gave us. But that’s magic, too, and Tirek isn’t a corrupted being, either. We tried to douse the fire with a cartload of black powder. It was my call, I did it. And I doomed everything.”

I kind of expected that would be it. I expected it and didn’t want to believe it.

“So how did their Highnesses deal with him originally?” Mary inquired. “Tirek has been beaten before, hasn’t he.”

“Not sure.” Twilight folded her ears and stared at her reflection in the crystal street. “I don’t understand how his ability works exactly, but it’s not really universal, not entirely. He has to adjust for what he wants to consume, he resonates. And the bigger he gets, the wider his range is, the more kinds of magic he can eat. We might have simply been too late. Right now, I don’t think any magic the Elements can throw at him will work, he will just absorb it.”

“So that’s it, then?” Rainbow asked. “Really? We’re gonna give up, just like that?”

“No,” Twilight shook her head, looking towards where the two giants were still wrestling and crushing the crystal beneath. “I have an idea. I’m sure I can freeze him for at least a few hours. Maybe days. He still can’t absorb dark magic.”

“That sounds even worse,” I said. “Weren’t you afraid of going Nightmare Twilight on us?”

“I was…” she sighed. “Well, yes, I am. Dark magic is ultimately a method of using free energy in a spell. Most of that is fast thaums from the Moon… Anyway, that’s not important. The important part is that doing it that way screws with your brain. It’s stupidly easy, it’s very efficient, but it directly disables your moral restraint and makes you think any ends justify all means. With dark magic, I can hurt Tirek myself. But if I try to push that much power through, I’m definitely getting affected.”

“And you want us to use the Elements on you after you do that, right?” I guessed. “Not gonna work, we can’t do that without you.”

“Not after,” she shook her head. “While I’m doing that. We’re just going to ask the Elements to stabilize me while I’m casting the spell. But there’s still a problem with that.”

“Eggheads and their egghead problems,” Rainbow grumbled.

“Well, it might not work, and then we’re going to have a Nightmare Rainbow. Plus Nightmare Pinkie, Nightmare Applejack, Nightmare Rarity and Nightmare Fluttershy. This connection,” Twilight said, wiggling her ears to adjust the crown on her head. “It works both ways.”

“I always wanted to try designing a dark sorceress costume,” Rarity tapped a hoof thoughtfully. “That’s just about the only excuse you get for a cape this season, and I’m sure I can totally pull off the cape look.”

“Yeah, Nightmare Rainbow sounds kinda awesome,” Rainbow agreed, pretending that the crystal street somewhere under Twilight’s hooves suddenly got a lot more interesting. “I’m down with that.”

“You never know until you try!” Pinkie grinned nervously. “I need to brush up on dark humor!”

“I think I’m about as Nightmare as I get already,” Fluttershy mumbled, folding her ears.

“Girls, you don’t know what you’re saying!” Twilight exclaimed. “Dark magic corruption is not some pretentious strain of equine flu, it’s a big deal!”

“We kinda know it’s a big deal,” I replied. “We’re just pretending it isn’t, because we don’t want you to worry about us, too.”

“Applejack!” Rarity frowned at me.

“Well, pardon me for being honest, we haven’t got all night!” I tossed back at her. “Do your thing, Twilight.”

Moondancer shook her head, and stared into the crystal pavement, the reflection of her blazing horn lighting us all up.

Twilight glanced at her questioningly. “Moondancer? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t have an Element,” Moondancer replied, without looking up. “I don’t even have a dark magic clearance. I’m useless, aren’t I? I don’t have that… p-power of friendship, whatever it is.”

“You might not have an Element,” Twilight said, “but you’re still my friend. The only friend I can trust to disrupt the spell if anything goes wrong. If you weren’t here, I wouldn’t even have the courage to try. That’s power of friendship, too. Will you help?”

Moondancer took a deep breath. “Yes,” she replied, finally looking up with the weakest of smiles on her face.

Twilight looked around, and I did the same. Most of the changelings in the immediate vicinity were out of action, and even some of the Royal Guard, instead of frantically trying to keep them away, were standing at attention, anxiously looking at the skies. “Girls… Take your places,” Twilight said calmly. “Mary, can I count on you covering us?”

Instead of answering, Mary switched something on her death machine, and I heard a high pitched whine.

“Drop the shield.”

The shield dissolved, and that was the moment I heard that horrible sound again.

“O-o-o-o-o-o-ho-ho-ho-ho!”

Right above our heads, the ghostly shape of a huge bird full of stars was flapping its wings.

Author's Note

For pacing reasons, poetry got bumped to the next chapter, in which the three threads finally realign. Sorry for the technobabble – the blog post that would explain the underlying theory of magic that would make it clearer is still on the way.

I foresee a question: “But wait, wasn’t Tirek defeated by the Elements?” The correct answer is, no, he wasn’t, at least, not the last time. He was defeated by the Rainbow Power, and soon, the conceptual difference between the two will become apparent.

Meanwhile, this arc still has three chapters left before it is concluded. After that, we return to your regularly scheduled philosophy.

Mostly. :raritywink:

Conversation 42: Lyra Heartstrings

I’m not afraid of heights. I’m actually quite comfortable when walking on clouds. Pegasus ancestry. Riding giant birds, however, is where I draw the line. It’s unnatural, and it’s disrespectful to birds.

“O-o-o-o-o-o-ho-ho-ho-ho!”

Bon-Bon made a motion to smack Trixie over the head, but I caught her hoof in my magic and shook my head. The last thing we need right now is Trixie losing concentration and dispelling the bird while we’re still five floors above the ground. All those changelings scattering away from it will do nothing to soften our landing, that’s for sure.

Spectral guardian spells fell out of use in the Third Celestial Era because they discovered that there’s a chance for the caster to suffer permanent damage when their “summoned” beast receives a brain injury. Because it’s not really a summoning, but a projection, which only became apparent when post-classical theories took root. If I ever needed any proof Trixie is completely bonkers, that would be it. Did she even graduate properly? I don’t know. And I don’t have the guts to ask.

But seeing the two titans wrestling on the horizon, I am sure it makes no difference. We’re late. I’m out of my depth. We’re all out of our depth. This is a Celestia-herself-level mess, end of the world, chthonic myth stalking the land, and wherever that dragon came from, that won’t hold him, not for long. I don’t know how much truth there is in the griffon ballad of the fall of the centaur kingdom, but it’s very graphic. I feel more lost than I was in the castle…

Trixie never admitted she was actually lost too. She just found a window, opened it up and jumped out with a battle cry, and we had no choice but to follow. I kept regretting it all the way until the bird finally landed and sank into the crystal beneath my hooves.

“O-o-o-o-o-o-ho-ho-ho-ho! Fillies and gentlecolts, the Great and Powerful Trixie has arrived!”

Evidently, just one round of this maniacal cackling wasn’t enough for her.

“Can you stop that horrible noise for a moment, Trixie? What are you even doing here, looking for the letter ‘I’?!” Twilight hissed, turning towards us. Her eyes were tinted a not so subtle green, and faint purple trails were oozing out. Oh no… no, no, no, no! I know they sometimes fight fire with fire, but this would be way too much!

“The Great and Powerful Trixie has an ample supply of ‘I’,” Trixie retorted. “But if you’re offering to share one of your ’I’s, Trixie graciously accepts. What exactly have you gotten us into this time, Twilight Sparkle?”

“I don’t have the time for this, Trixie!” Twilight choked out. It sounded like she was desperately trying to keep a reverberation chamber from escaping her lungs.

“Too busy playing the heroine?” Trixie quipped. “Because if you are, Trixie, as your designated rival, is here to counterbalance you. But if you aren’t, Trixie has more important business to attend to. Like searching for the ancient artifact of great power that will get us out of this mess. Because somepony has to!”

Twilight inhaled, as if planning to blow Trixie away by huffing and puffing. She was inhaling for so long, that I had time to briefly wonder if there’s a hole somewhere in her belly. And then she squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. Here it comes…

Are you listening? I’m sure you’re listening. You said “no strings,” but I’m sure there is one string. You said you’re reading the story of my life together with me. You wouldn’t do this if you didn’t care. Whatever happened in your ascension, somewhere deep down, you’re still a person. So listen up. I want you to understand what I feel. It’s important for my character development.

Ask me to name the smartest pony I have met, and I’ll name Moondancer. Give her a theorem, and she’ll find three new proofs without fail.

The most knowledgeable pony I have met? Sunburst from my class. Ask him for a spell to do something, and he’ll name three before opening the books, and four more afterwards. And then he’ll tell you what happens if you combine all seven.

The most inventive pony I ever met? Trixie, as long as she isn’t nearby to hear me say it. Leave her alone in a room with three sticks and a rope, come back in an hour. She will surprise you. There will still be half of the rope left over, and one more stick than she started with.

But ask me to name a genius, and I will say “Twilight Sparkle.” She is a prodigy, but in the School for Gifted Unicorns, we had no shortage of those. That’s not why she’s Princess Celestia’s personal student. I don’t know how she does it. I don’t think she knows, either. It tends to take a while. But suddenly, there is that spark in her eyes, and she does the impossible. Or tells you to do the impossible. Same thing, really.

And then, it turns out it isn’t really impossible at all, and nopony knows how the hay she figured that out.

“Lyra,” Twilight said without opening her eyes. “Call upon the Crystal Heart.”

“W-what? How?” I stammered out.

It’s never something you expect.

Twilight opened her eyes and stared at me. The green and purple were gone, and instead, what I saw was that spark. “She said some ideas are universal. Taking the hero’s mantle for a spin… You’re a magical girl, Lyra. Sunlit Seen was a magical girl. Is. You’re the best poet I know. Figure it out. If you do, we can beat this monster!”

I was about to ask who “she” was, but Applejack interrupted me, “So we’re not doin’ that dark magic thing, then?”

“Let’s keep it for Plan B, AJ,” Twilight replied. “If Lyra can invoke the Heart directly, we have a much better option. I’m sure she can.”

I opened my mouth to object again and shut it immediately. Is. Not was. It’s always how obvious this should be that gets you. That magical leap that logic will never get you through.

This castle, this whole city, exist because they kept the Crystal Heart alive, they tended this flame for centuries. It’s not Sunlit Seen as she was before her sacrifice, that pony died, giving up her heart to light the way for others. But that’s still her actual heart, in a very real sense. It’s continuous with her, just like I am continuous with the silly girl who wrote a poem to describe the candy that the princess of love bought at a street fair. That was the pony who became the Lyra of today.

Sunlit Seen, whoever she really was, is alive. She’s alive in every single crystal pony. And there are no ponies who can’t sing!

“Do your thing, Lyra,” Bon-Bon said, putting on sunglasses and taking an ominous looking thing out of her sleeve bag. I think it’s an army issue flash grenade. “I’ve got your back.”

That was all the encouragement I needed. My crystal companion helpfully gave me a short list of songs to choose from, and I settled on another one in that strange language with a smattering of Equish words here and there. The criteria for this one are quite specific, but I need as much freedom in rewriting the lyrics as I can get.

I know exactly what they need to hear.

I took a deep breath, as the sharp voices of violins filled the air and quickly ramped up to the opening verse.

When all is lost and light is gone,

A voice answered me out of nowhere, floating on the wave, and I couldn’t tell if it’s a pony, or the music of harmony itself singing the duet with me.

But I knew it was the line I thought of.

— Be faithful!

We finished the opening verse together, as the transformation magic spun up and I saw myself rising above the awed faces of my friends.

Hope and despair are born as one,
— Embrace them!
Don’t give up until the world has frozen still!

Strange. The transformation didn’t hurt at all, this time. I spread my fingers out in front of my face, watching the razor-thin strings glittering in the air, vibrating gently to the music. These are my heartstrings. One of them is red. I know where it goes, now. They don’t just slice things apart, they also bind us all together.

With a leap that I would call ridiculous at any other time, I landed onto the great hall balcony of the castle, shaking the strings in a deep, sustained chord. With a verse, I sent them out to cross the city in all directions, binding it in a web, mirroring the snowflake of the crystal streets.

When sun is rising over the ice,
— Rainbows are shining bright
Out in the northern sky.

All mortal things will come to an end.
Even the Moon might fall,
— Even the Sun might die.

Yet in the darkness we will sing,
“I love you!”…

As the chorus started, underneath the castle, and all across the city, thousands of crystal ponies joined the song. It’s a reflex that you can’t take away, something you can’t forget, because this is what you are, a resonance, an oath, deeper than a memory, more important than knowing your own name. Golden lightning sparked between the ground and my heartstrings, ran across them, thickening, assembling into one bright stream that went through me and shot upwards to the sky, curving towards the point at the top of the spire.

Where have all the changelings gone? I don’t see any.

Stargrass!

We almost whispered this line, echoing through a sudden beat of silence. It was a line I neither planned for nor expected, an exclamation of surprise, as I saw what was going on far above me, on the other end of the curving stream of power. A huge bubble of gold collected atop the castle spire, bright enough to light the city up beyond what Celestia’s sun could possibly achieve. Around it, thin, long sheets of magic were spinning slowly, like a flower of stargrass. Six petals, each a color of its own, a rainbow unwrapped. The Elements!

The battle of the titans abruptly concluded, as the centaur finally threw the dragon off and sent him flying through the air to land somewhere beyond city limits. The ground shook slightly as his body made contact.

Suddenly, the petals twisted, curling into a tube directed straight at Tirek’s face. The ball became a stream, as our song resumed, the golden lightning flowing through me and up to the spire so fast that I could no longer make out the words I was singing. Even keeping track of which thoughts are my own became a challenge, and only by holding onto that one red string was I able to keep any sense of personal identity. Just how many unsolved theoretical problems of high energy magic did the Elements simply brush away to make that thaumic waveguide, like they were meaningless obstacles on the path to harmony? I don’t know. I almost expected the overwhelming power that I just channeled would simply crush Tirek like a rotten egg.

But that wasn’t what happened.

Instead, what I saw was Tirek opening his mouth and catching the beam with it like a fish desperate for water, and the lump on his throat moved up and down, faster and faster and faster…

“Positive remoralization through love energy!” Who said that? It was somepony down on the street, but I can’t tell anymore. I’m not sure I even have ears anymore, or which of the myriad ears I can feel are mine. The flow of burning gold continued in a torrent, sending sparks in all directions as it met the centaur’s gaping maw, and he remained standing there, gulping it down. For a few beats, for a whole verse, I thought that there would be no end to it, that we’d keep standing like that forever, frozen in the moment, feeding the bottomless pit.

Worth it.

That was the moment when bright, glowing cracks appeared on the red face, running across the skin as if somepony poured boiling water into ice, crossing onto the torso and further down, momentarily drowning the music out with a single clear, sharp note. Just a beat later, the titanic monster came apart at the seams, splitting into thousands upon thousands of smaller and smaller pieces, until I could see nothing in the fading golden light but finely dispersed dust.

Even that vanished soon afterwards.

“Now that,” I heard Rainbow Dash say with smug satisfaction, breathing heavily, as the final chords of the song died down and silence covered the city in twilight, “That was proper awesome.”

That was when the cheering started, and the first of Trixie’s famous fireworks exploded somewhere above my head.

✶                ✶                ✶

With a flick of a finger, I sliced apart the wall behind the throne, revealing the hidden staircase, and stepped through.

Some kind of panel on my arm – what a silly thing – was blinking red lights, punctuated by worried beeping in the headphones over my ears, warning me, that instead of the magic supplied by the singing ponies, I’m running on my own reserves, threatening imminent magic exhaustion unless I detransform immediately.

It’s okay, Grayswandir. I’m a pony. We’re a bit more magical than the humans you were made for, I should last a few more minutes. I need to last a few more minutes. She’s calling me. She wants to go home.

I owe her that much and more.

The spiral staircase felt endless. By the time I finally got to the top, it was swimming before my eyes, a kaleidoscope of prismatic reflections of itself, and once I stumbled out onto the platform at the end of the spire, I collapsed onto my hands. These things aren’t meant for walking, are they? Even armored, they’re too fragile, too brittle. But I did not command the transformation to reverse until I crawled over the scorched, pulverized remains of evaporating black crystal and touched the Heart.

Whatever traps had existed here were dead, fried instantly when Twilight activated the Heart-powered, Element-guided love cannon. Generations of ponies transformed what must have been a gruesome, horrifying relic into a thing of beauty, a heart not like what hearts look like, bleeding sacs of muscle, but like what they really are. But still, my hoof felt a gentle heartbeat in the solid, clear crystal.

I tried to grab it in my magic, but the matrix fizzled immediately, stabbing with a dull pain behind my ears. Magic exhaustion. He warned about that. It’s okay. I’ve had worse after the finals in school. A few days bed rest and I will be good as new. As long as I can get Bon-Bon to feed me grapes and call me a brave girl, this might even be nice.

I tried cradling the heart in my forelegs, but navigating the stairs just on my hind legs was way too difficult. After very nearly tumbling down, I had to abandon this idea. Gently, I gripped the Heart between my teeth and eased back onto four hooves.

One step at a time.

A thousand steps.

It felt like a small eternity, and by the time I emerged out of the doors at the bottom of the castle, I could barely feel my legs. Two heartbeats echoed through my skull, synchronous, and I couldn’t tell which originated in my own chest, and which belonged to the heart in my teeth.

What a crowd. Bon-Bon is here. Cadance is here. Everypony is here. All the crystal ponies are here.

We’re home.

Why are they all looking at me like that?

I only had the strength for a few more steps, before I collapsed at Cadance’s hooves.

Author's Note

Lyra’s heartstrings of severing and binding.

Five chapters instead of fifty two this year. That’s a new low for me.

In my defense, it has been a really, really unpleasant year in more respects than I care to describe, on so many levels. I’m sure more than a few of you can relate, anyway, even though my reasons for it being unpleasant were probably completely different.

Here’s to the next year being more fruitful. This story isn’t done yet, oh no. Even this arc still has two chapters left in it before the next one can start. And the next one leads our heroines much deeper down the rabbit hole than they have ever anticipated…

Happy New Year, everyone.

P.S. Special thanks to Shrink Laureate for helping me with the poetry, getting which satisfactory was bloody difficult, as well as last minute editing.
P.P.S. If you’re curious which song did Lyra pick to rewrite on the spot this time, it’s this one. For a change, it was far more of a direct translation than the previous one, even though, together with the language, the song switched symbol vocabularies.

Conversation 43: Cadance

“We found them, Your Highness,” the pegasus guard reported, landing before me. “They–”

“Are they alright?” Twilight interrupted him. “What about Spike?”

“Captain says they’re just exhausted,” the guard replied. “He refused to let us carry either of them on a stretcher, and ordered the search and rescue team to look for other wounded. They will be along shortly.”

I sighed. “Thank you, lieutenant.” Shiny can be so stubborn, sometimes.

In the colorful light of the fireworks outside, more and more crystal ponies were arriving. The ponies that were terrified, that had to be herded to the relative safety of the castle just an hour ago, looked entirely different to me now, as if some invisible hoof gave them a bubble bath and a thorough brushing. They were glossier. Brighter.

There was recognition in their eyes where previously there had been none.

In every town, there’s a famous spot where you go when you lost each other and don’t know where the other pony would be. In Canterlot it’s the castle courtyard, in Manehattan it’s the Times Square, in Cloudsdale it’s the weather factory plaza. In the Crystal Empire, the Heart Chamber is the place where all the roads lead, and I saw ponies migrating through the crowd, searching for their loved ones. I heard abrupt notes of happiness radiating here and there, as couples and families were reunited. As if by some unspoken agreement, they would then proceed to the spot in the middle where I was standing, surrounded by the Guard and Twilight’s friends milling about, and make a deep bow to us, before shuffling off to the sides to watch the fireworks.

Despite how worn out we all were, it looked like everypony was planning to stay in the castle square at least until the sunrise. Did we even have that many crystal ponies yesterday? Was there some dungeon unaccounted for, so that they’ve only just gotten free, as the last vestiges of Sombra’s magic are fading?

Suddenly, one of the doors of the castle swung open, slamming into the wall. Lyra came out, stepping heavily, and the crowd parted before her. I barely recognized her. Her mane, usually in a state of neatly managed artistic disarray, looked like she’d faced an explosion and lived. There was a glint of blazing madness in her eyes, staring off into infinity, as if she was looking at something mere mortals and alicorns can never comprehend. Tightly pressed between her teeth was a beautiful, clear gem, almost as big as her entire head.

The Crystal Heart!

As she was making the last few steps to approach me, the murmur of conversation around us gradually died down, and only the sporadic sounds of exploding fireworks broke the silence. But nopony was watching them anymore.

All the eyes were on Lyra, and as she stopped before me, stretching her neck out, reaching out to pass the Heart to me, all the eyes were on us.

I gingerly took the Heart in my magic, and Lyra slowly released her jaws. And then crumbled into a heap on the spot, as if the Heart was the only thing holding her body up.

“Medic!” I called out, and hurried to check the pulse under her jaw with a feather tip. Steady, but weak and abnormally fast, like she just ran a marathon. While one of the guards with a cross on his saddlebags was making his way through the crowd, Bon-Bon appeared out of nowhere and scooped Lyra onto her back. Even before I could say anything else, both of them, together with the medic, were gone behind the door Lyra just came out of, leaving me and the Heart alone in the center of the parabolic chamber, inside a rapidly expanding circle of empty floor.

Wide open eyes staring at me. Mouths hanging agape.

I’m sure I know what happened. A childhood story just repeated itself before their eyes, a story about how the Crystal Empire came to be. Not verbatim, but as close as it could, under the circumstances. Whether she knew it or not, Lyra had just done more for establishing my legitimacy than any number of documents or relics ever would. I was just somepony with a very good claim to the title yesterday, the foreign princess who came to Empire’s aid in a time of need, representing the suzerains they knew and respected. The only claimant. All of that together would be enough. Just.

But now, tonight, to these ponies, I am all but Amore reborn, a refrain to the song that started a long, long time ago, the one they’d believed gone forever. I’m sure that were I to tell them I’m planning an expedition to Tartarus, they would rush ahead to hold the gates open, and suffer all kinds of hardship just to clear the way for me.

I looked at the Heart floating in my magic. Does this mean that you accept me as well, ghost of my infinitely great grandaunt? That’s some big horseshoes to fill. But it’s what I worked towards throughout all of my adult life, and I swear on my cutie mark that I will not fail you.

As I approached the snowflake circuit, two axial conductors slid out invitingly with a low rumble, and the Heart all but jumped out of my grip to latch between them.

For a moment, I felt as thoroughly lost as ever. What do I do now? I know what I have to do in general, but just what, exactly, do I do right next? What do I say? Do I even need to say anything? I thought of Shining. Would he be just as speechless and lost for words as I am? He’s so adorably lost when he’s alone with me, and yet, when push comes to shove, he’s always the first one to react…

The Heart vibrated slightly and started spinning, faster and faster. All around me, crystal ponies were bowing towards us… towards the Heart and towards me, and the crystal pavement was saturated with a blue glow. So this is how it’s supposed to work.

Flash!

The shock front of the wave released by the spinning Heart hit me full in the face and passed through me. Everything felt the same. Everything felt like it changed forever. Just the most common miracle on Earth. So familiar, and yet, so infinitely special.

What a peculiar illusion. It’s almost like everypony is actually made of crystal. And these shining wings, it’s almost like a butterfly. But it’s not truly an illusion, is it? The Heart just gives us a chance to see each other, not how we look like, but how we really are.

Radiant. Everypony is actually radiant—

—but pony wings have feathers on them, don’t they?

This realization snapped me out of the moment abruptly and I scanned through the crowd, my heart racing, the mind only barely catching up. As the Heart pulsed, at least a third of the ponies in front of me were replaced by familiar, chitinous faces, glowing blue eyes staring at me, and at nopony in particular.

I struggled to contain the fear, the instinct to immediately take off and flee as far as my wings will take me, away from this waking nightmare… away from my ponies.

It took everypony else almost a full second to react, but the reaction was swift and fearless, as most of the crystal ponies reared up, hooves mid-swing. Spears twirled in the air and horns lit up, as guardsponies sprung into action, and somewhere behind me, I heard the unmistakable whine of the human’s death ray powering up…

“HALT!”

The sound echoed inside the parabolic chamber and escaped out into the city through the openings, resonating across the square and through the streets. Everything and everyone froze still, and I wasn’t even sure, whether it was because my feeble attempt at Royal Canterlot Voice took them by sheer surprise, or because, for once in my life, it actually worked when I needed it.

Why have I stopped them?…

All of those glowing blue eyes, so identical, and yet, each pair somehow different.

“Speak, creature,” I ordered the nearest changeling, trying to sound as regal as possible, not even sure why am I expecting a reply, when back in the Canterlot castle dungeons, even Celestia did not receive any. That’s the voice she uses when presiding over equity court. Warm, but firm and unyielding, the voice of judgment. If nothing else, I can pull off the voice. Maybe, they won’t notice I have no idea what I’m doing if I pretend well enough. “Do you have a name?”

“…Th-h-horax, Your Highness!” he stammered out. A boyish, squeaky voice. Sweet Celestia, he sounds like a teenager.

“Why are you here, Thorax?” I asked him. “Speak true, for much depends on your answer.”

“She t-told me that if I truly wish Mother well, when she sings, I should sing with her,” he replied. “Lyra Heartstrings told me, I mean. So I did. Most of us did. I think. And then…” he wiggled his wings. “That happened. I’m… I’m not sure what happened. I can’t hear Mother at all, anymore.”

It’s so hard to read the expression of those featureless eyes, but the voice sounded pleading. “What’s going to happen to us… now?” he whispered.

Beautiful, shining wings. Shivering under my gaze like a leaf in the breeze. Something sliced off his right ear not long ago, leaving just a barely healed stump, and I have a feeling I know exactly how and when that happened.

It was the night when I almost lost Shining forever, the night that concluded the most terrifying week of my life. I still shudder when thinking of what I had to do to get him back, and marvel that it worked at all. Half of my personal security detail is still in the hospital. Spearhead is getting honorably discharged, he will never fly again. Flash Sentry died in the line of duty.

But that was also the night when changelings died by the thousand, bodies littering the streets like trash. Just how culpable are the hoofsoldiers of that monster? How did she compel them to rush so gladly into a woodchipper?…

I don’t know. But there is one thing I am sure of, one thing that the Heart told me.

Changelings can be radiant, too.

I bit my lip. What would Celestia do? The Crystal Empire has never had much in the way of dungeons, and even Sombra’s brief reign does not appear to have changed this. Just about the only place that can even contain so many changelings is the stadium. A chilling, dark irony, a path I will never take. For a moment, I became acutely aware of the weight of the crown on my head, that piece of metal that for so long felt insignificant, ephemeral, just a frame to hold a gem that goes with my mane, nothing more. A trinket which suddenly acquired the mass of the entire Canterlot Mountain and crushed me like a bug.

Three crowns.

The crown of a Princess of Equestria, a strange quirk of history, mine by the Accords, neither wanted nor asked for. They even had to make an amendment so that I would have to finish my schooling before I could do too much harm with it. But this is Crystal Empire land, a Princess of Equestria is but a guest here. That crown compels me to deal with a threat. These lost, confused creatures are not.

The crown of the Crystal Princess, mine by heritage and ancient laws, mine by the trust of these ponies, who rely on me to shield them from harm. It compels me to put their best interest first – but also, it charges me with determining what their best interests are.

The crown of the Princess of Love, not so much mine, as it is of me. The one that I brought back with me from that sea of stars, the one that charges me to remind ponies of what love is, for I have been beyond the world, have seen it from the outside, and love was what I came back for.

There is but one way forward. There can only be one way forward. I threw a glance across the crowd, pony and changeling eyes wordlessly staring at me. Do I have the authority?

For love, I have all the authority in the world. Who cares what would Celestia do? Tonight is the night of the Princess of Love, and none shall dare to overturn what’s about to happen.

“Hear ye, hear ye!” I proclaimed, spreading my wings wide to punctuate, my voice reverberating across the city. “Hear, ye changelings and ponies, and all creatures!”

Ears perked up across the crowd. Expectant glances.

“There is to be no more blood spilled today, no more death and no more suffering. There has been more than enough already! All the changelings, heed my words! There is love for everyone in the Crystal Empire. Lay down your weapons, stay the hoof that strikes, and you may stay. There is but one condition and one condition only!”

Luna’s quirky style must be rubbing off on me. I took a deeper breath.

“Equestria has changed in a thousand years. What it means to be a crystal pony has not! A crystal pony is one whose life is bound to the Crystal Heart, to maintain and treasure it, and to share the love with others. Species or tribes matter not, for before love, all creatures are the same! Any changeling who agrees to the rite of Crystalling is a crystal pony upon completion thereof, and a citizen of the Crystal Empire, with all privileges and duties that apply. An amnesty is granted to those who do so, and no persecution for their past actions shall befall them, for they are as newly born before the law. So I swear, on the heart of my cutie mark!”

Excited murmurs ran across the crowd. With their uncanny synchrony gone, the changelings seemed just like the ponies they stood amongst, each excited and confused in their own way.

“But don’t the Accords stipulate extradition treaties?” Twilight whispered at me from the crowd.

“They do,” I replied quietly, without changing my posture or even looking at her. “Between signatories. The Crystal Empire did not sign an extradition treaty with the United Kingdoms, yet.” I can protect all of my crystal ponies.

A droplet of something icky green flew right past my face, and I looked up. Right above my head, dangling off a thread of stretchy green gunk like a spider, legs contorted, was the changeling queen, her head twisted backwards.

“Really, Cadance?” She slid further down, and I had to make a step back to avoid touching her disgusting, unkempt mane. “You expect any of my subjects to take that offer, when they can just have everything?” Dropping in front of me, she pushed her face into mine, teeth shining from behind that smile that I have seen way too much of. “How many ponies are you prepared to lose, pretty pink pony princess?”

It took some effort, but I broke away from her gaze, to throw a glance at the crowd. Twilight stood tall, the Element of Magic proudly sparkling in the crown on her head. Rainbow Dash was hovering in the air above her, rubbing hooves together, with an openly malicious grin on her face above the glittering lightning bolt on her neck. They certainly got a lot more practice calling upon those things tonight than anypony ever thought possible or necessary.

I’d rather not have them do it yet again.

“Zero,” I declared. “Which is why I say, leave in peace, Chrysalis. Leave, and take all that will follow you. Preferably, before my husband comes back, for when his hoof rises to strike you, I shall not stop him. There are things no princess should ever deny.”

There was no way it could have escaped Chrysalis’ notice that we have all the upper hooves we could ever need, but even if it didn’t, that failed to wipe the smug grin off her face. “So even a Princess of Equestria is not above bribery,” she mocked me. “I wonder, what other things hide beneath this pink coat.”

“But isn’t this what we wanted, Mother?” Thorax piped up. “Food, shelter, peace?”

“No,” Chrysalis snarled at him, sending the poor changeling cowering behind the human, of all people. “No, you stupid freak, this isn’t what I wanted!” She called out across the square, “What are you waiting for?! Attack, my changelings!”

Not a hoof moved in response to that. Not a wing twitched. Just a thousand changeling faces guiltily looking into the pavement and seeing their own reflections.

“What…” she muttered. For the first time ever, I saw her face contorted by fear. “What happened?…”

“Haven’t you heard, Chrysalis?” I answered. “Love conquers all.”

Someday, it might even conquer monsters as horrible as a mother that won’t return the love of her own child. I don’t know when that will happen, but I’m sure that day will come.

It did not take Chrysalis long to recover. “So this is how you play, Cadance,” she hissed. “I shall leave. Oh yes, I shall leave. And you will rue the day you let me go, you will keep regretting it for a thousand years! When I get my hooves on you, I—”

“Give me back the brooch before you go,” I interrupted.

“What?…” she muttered.

“The crystal brooch,” I explained. “Shaped like a heart. The one you took, like a common thief. You thought it was some key to control the Crystal Heart, didn’t you? It’s not. It’s not anything that special, but I’d like it back, please.”

Chrysalis drew breath through her clenched teeth, so hard and fast, that I thought she was going to explode. But instead of doing that, spitting venom into my face, or even simply spewing another tirade full of threats and oaths of revenge, she shook her leg, dislodging the brooch from one of the holes, and it tinkled on the crystal.

And then she picked the brooch up and threw it, hard, out of the square. As I turned to look at it, I heard the buzz of dragonfly wings next to my ears, and when I looked back at her, all I could see was a silhouette, barely visible in the light of the streetlights. All the changelings stood still, staring in her direction with a multitude of expressions on their faces, some of barely concealed glee, others of fear and regret.

I took a deep breath and finally relaxed my wings. What’s next? Right. Delegate. “Miss Maresbury?”

“Yes, your majesty?” the elderly librarian answered, pushing her way through the crowd. “What can I do for you?”

“Quite a lot,” I smiled at her, ignoring the inflated title. I’m anything but a majesty. “We have Crystallings to perform. Right now, if at all possible. I was hoping you would help with the details, or at least, find the ponies or books that can. Twilight Sparkle and her friends will assist you. Should you need anything that my Guard can help with—”

A commanding voice interrupted me. “Situation report!”

Even through the crystal illusion, Shining Armor looked like he had a building fall on him – patches of heavily bruised skin visible through the dirty white coat, the entire right side of his armor missing. But he was trotting steadily, calm, collected, majestic. Balanced on his back was Spike, snoring like a baby foal.

I had to remind myself once again that we’re married already.

“There’s no situation anymore, love,” I told him. “It’s all over. We’ve won.”

He looked suspiciously at the changelings scattered in the crowd. “What are these, then?” he mumbled.

“I’ve expanded the Empire a little while you were busy,” I said with a grin. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“What’s next, changing the carpets?” he grinned back, prompting a fit of stifled giggles rippling across the crowd. “I remember you were looking for this,” he added, floating the heart brooch to me in his magic. “It smashed into a wall right in front of me. Sorry it’s broken.”

I pulled at the brooch, and the little crystal heart fell out of the golden frame and came apart, cracked cleanly across the middle, as if by design. “It’s fine. I never told you what it is, have I?”

Shining shook his head wordlessly.

“I have never heard my mother tell this story,” I said, “She died before she got a chance. But Celestia still remembered it. When La Mia Speranza was leaving the Empire on her crusade, Amore gave her this brooch. She left to find a husband, you see. It was the crystal set aside for his Crystalling. By the time she returned, the Empire was already lost. But they kept the crystal, because they knew that one day, the Empire would be back.”

“I’m not sure if Amore knew there would be two of us,” I added, looking at the break. “But I know that this half is for you.”

And the other is for me.

Author's Note

The one concession any rational, materialistic interpretation of ponies has to make to retain actual ponies, instead of boring sapient equinoids, is this:

Harmony exists.

Conversation 44.1: Moondancer

“Lunch break,” Mary declared, pressing the button of the alarm clock just before it had a chance to ring.

“How do you keep—” I started, but she immediately cut me off.

“Practice,” she said. Which would make a bit more sense if she didn’t do this every time, I don’t even know what this alarm clock sounds like. “Get up and let’s go, before Fluttershy gets angry.”

A daunting prospect. With reluctance, I put away the engineering textbook that I was reading and got off my chair. “Lead on.”

The sun didn’t feel hot on my coat, even with the dress, but in this city of glitter and shiny things, it was so bright, that I was sure I would eventually require sunglasses. As if I needed any extra reasons for my head to be spinning.

Mary’s strange ability to pick up a relevant book seemingly at random turned out to work on average one time out of three. Every book she selected would have been a discovery in its own right, from a popular overview of pre-classical alchemy, which I had to reluctantly put away, to a physics textbook, but most of them had nothing to do with the task at hoof. Only the tenth one she pointed at was a scholarly work on the history of the Crystalling, describing the variation of the ritual they used before the induction of every newborn foal became traditional.

It was horribly poetic and mystical, using a lot of vocabulary specific to their idiosyncratic school of earth pony magic, – contrary to all expectations, their tradition actually turned out to be a proper school, with theories of operation and even something of an elegant paradigm, almost late classical in style – but with Miss Maresbury’s help, we were able to distill it into relatively straightforward instructions. The last group of changelings melded their crystals into the Heart just minutes before the first rays of sunshine lit up the horizon.

And then, the airborne rangers descended on us like bats out of Hades.

I still have no idea how did Twilight stand up to Princess Luna when she was Nightmare Moon. Even the actual Luna terrified me to the core. At least initially. In her antique battle armor, with twin swords at her sides, black like soot against the orange sky, framed by silhouettes of airships, disgorging one squad of paratroopers after another. Even though it has been four days since then, changelings still scatter and transform into random pieces of furniture when she passes by. Especially if Princess Cadance isn’t around.

But the original crystal ponies were very happy to see her, and there were even a few she recognized and greeted by name. Explaining what the hay actually happened and preventing the bloodshed took Cadance many a tense minute, but when she was done, Luna looked awestruck.

That was the first time ever I saw a princess bow.

Even though everypony left me blissfully alone, I barely got any sleep for the entire subsequent day, because every time I did manage to nod off, yet another Heart discharge shockwave phasing through the floor would wake me up. The aurora was so bright, that they didn’t even turn the streetlights on when the night came. And on the next day, Twilight rounded us all up again and started hoofing out assignments.

Damn, she looks so beautiful when she’s crystal…

On top of several fatalities – most of them among the changelings and the Royal Guard – and the numerous wounded on either side, who were actually recovering a lot faster than anypony expected, presumably thanks to the mysterious love energy saturating the streets, the damage to the city was quite substantial. Almost half a sector would have to be rebuilt from the ground up. But ultimately, the legacy of Sombra the Usurper was worse, because all those suspicious pony-shaped pieces of crystal back at the stadium were exactly what I was afraid they would turn out to be.

Executions.

And most of them were exactly the ponies vital for keeping the small kingdom running – Crystal Guard officers, Amore’s retainers and civil servants, community leaders, wizards and engineers who kept the city in working order. The tyrant had a special hatred for unicorns and, for some unfathomable reason, stylists. Lots of crystal ponies received entirely unexpected promotions, and most of them needed every bit of support we could muster.

My assignment was to write a research paper for Cadance, detailing everything built around the Crystal Heart, something that Twilight would have loved to do herself, but reluctantly had to delegate. The energy from the titanic capacitor of the castle was used for everything, from light and heat to melting permafrost for water, so there was a lot of ground to cover, and I asked for Mary’s help, because picking a useful book one time out of three is still substantially better than random chance. Unfortunately, that was the limit of her involvement, because much of what we found was written in old scripts she could not read, or straight up in Old Equish and Old Ponish. She kept quietly reading something else the entire time, for which I was just as quietly grateful.

Fluttershy’s contribution to our task was the alarm clock, because she insisted we are to have at least one proper meal per day. According to her, army rations did not count, no matter how nutritionally balanced they are, so this inevitably meant a cross-city walk.

Even though the streets were full of soldiers, crystal ponies, and changelings, all walking about their business, hardly anypony paid us any mind at all. I was very hesitant when Rarity insisted to make this dress for me, but upon reflection, it is incredibly liberating. I must order an entire wardrobe while I still have a chance.

Soldiers and crystal ponies. Period. Crystal changelings, maybe? Way to confuse everyone.

“The time is out of joint,” Mary mumbled to herself.

“Everything is out of joint here,” I countered. It had been three very frustrating days. “Weather barrier is some strange pegasus trick running off an electrically powered electrostatic generator. Shield spells are pre-classical mumbo-jumbo and leak power like a sieve. Pull the Heart out and half of it shuts down even if the capacitor is full, remove it from the mesh and the city will just freeze over. The vault spell was supposed to reveal the city at hundred moon intervals and retest the conditions, but didn’t, because the ambient light averaging matrix is just gone. Even the power grid is direct current, when the rest of Equestria uses alternating current!”

Mary stopped suddenly and stared at me. “So the fact that they have a power grid at all is not unusual?”

This eye of hers was unnerving before, but when she’s crystal, it’s doubly so. Nothing like that happens to ponies or changelings, but on her, you can actually see a network of thin gold threads spreading through her skull like alfalfa roots behind that eye.

“Look,” I said, “It’s running off the biggest thaumic capacitor ever built, charged by waste magic released through love energy to love energy boost conversion. I know you don’t have the magic education to understand what nonsense I just said, but trust me, modern thaumatology says it is. If you told me that the Crystal Empire was founded by time-traveling refugees from some epic pony war in the far future, I’d believe you, because that’s more plausible than the truth. I’m ready to believe anything at this point.”

“No, I mean…” Mary started, “The forged journal says that the Crystal Empire is one of the original signatories of the Equestria Accords.”

“So does that book of stories for kids that I found,” I replied. “The original scroll was damaged, but it’s well known there were five signatories. There was even that whole rivalry between Baltimare and Rainbow Falls about which of them was the fifth kingdom, never came to anything. Now that the Crystal Empire is back, I suppose that one’s settled. What’s your point?”

Mary crouched before me, sending a shower of glowing sparkles in my direction. As if her dress doesn’t glitter enough at me when she isn’t crystal. “One of the five founding kingdoms has electricity and running water in every home. Others build with mud bricks. This goes on for how long?”

“The length of the pre-classical period is not known precisely,” I replied, pulling back a bit. “Anywhere between one and three thousand moons?”

“So from one to three and a half centuries,” she said. I was about to correct her, but she waved her hand, “Yes, yes, I know the solar cycle was not reliable, not important. A long time, spent gathering kingdoms and dealing with internal and external threats that wouldn’t stay down, taming the land and the folk. The time of fairytales and heroes, as they say. Right?”

“Yes?” I really don’t like what she’s implying. Unfortunately, I’m sure it’s the same conclusion that I’ve arrived at already.

“Then suddenly, the Crystal Empire vanishes. In under two centuries, protected kingdoms become a federation,” Mary said, tilting her head and adopting a wry smile, “but it still takes them six more centuries to start the industrial use of electricity.”

“Just four, if you count weather manufacturing,” I countered. “I know. I noticed. I even have theories. I just don’t like any of them.”

“Oh?” she said, standing up. At least she got out of my face. “Well, let me tell you my theory.”

Twilight described her as an “extreme historian.” I’m still not sure what this actually entails, beyond that time travel nonsense. But Twilight was also impressed with how the human encyclopedias described their history, so maybe there is something to this strange discipline.

“What needs explaining isn’t the fact that so few of the advances of the Crystal Empire were replicated while it was around,” Mary started. “Unique power source. Unique construction materials. Miles of frozen wasteland to the nearest neighbors, no railroads, no airships, so contact is seasonally limited. And it’s probably the only kingdom out of five that started with all three tribes living together.” She glanced at me over her shoulder. “What needs explaining is why the fundamental discoveries in natural sciences that this city relies on were forgotten with it.”

“I’m almost ready to blame Discord,” I replied. It would make things so much easier. It would also be the most unscientific thing I could possibly do, but now I understand what Twilight meant when she said the world conspires to twist her perception of reality every week. And now I’m just as deep in it as she is.

“Discord law,” Mary said, raising a finger. When did she even learn about that… “Discord has never been here, anyway. He would have wiped the city off the map just for being so symmetrical. No, it’s something else. Everything about the Crystal Empire was classified under the Official Secrets Act. A very long time ago. It follows that all the scientific advances that came out of here also were, at some point, until they were discovered from scratch. Again. Why?”

“There must have been a good reason,” I insisted. Never mind that I can’t think of one. There must have been.

“A good reason for millions of ponies to live without electricity and running water,” Mary replied.

“You might not believe it, but good reasons can exist,” I snapped. “I don’t know how it works in your world, but in Equestria we don’t teach foals to make fireworks until they’re responsible enough not to burn the house down. No matter how much they like launching them.”

“There,” she suddenly pointed a finger in my direction, without even looking at me. “There it is. What sort of knowledge is so dangerous, that keeping it hidden is worth setting science back centuries? You want to answer that question. Because there’s no way to keep a cat in the bag forever, if you forgot what a cat even is.”

“That’s why I don’t like any of my theories!” I exclaimed. It is the same conclusion I have arrived at on the first day. It took her longer, but Mary reached it with a lot fewer clues than I had. In a few months, when researchers from every university in Equestria flood this place, everypony will know. “I open every book thinking that this is it, there’s that secret that could destroy everypony, hidden between the pages, and instead of paying attention to what I’m reading, and writing a simple summary like I’m supposed to, I keep wondering what to do when I find it!”

“In a human world,” Mary commented, “upon discovering that an entire city was deliberately erased from historical record, my first instinct would be to search for evidence of a crime. Something so heinous, that even centuries later it cannot be forgiven.”

I stopped.

It took Mary a few more steps to notice, but then she turned around and looked at me questioningly.

I might not be Celestia’s personal student, but she is still my teacher. The headmare of my school, even if most of the daily business is in the hooves of the vice-headmare. I was the salutatorian of my class, the only student who has seen more of the Princess would be Twilight. The implication in what Mary just said was downright obscene.

“You can’t really mean that,” I finally said, swallowing an impulse to say something a lot more hurtful. “You just can’t.”

“I don’t,” Mary replied. “This is very much not a human world. Here, monsters like that don’t hide evidence, they proudly announce their deeds to the world and gloat. As if to compensate, the power of love raises the dead and stops invading armies. Which makes me all the more curious just what it was that Celestia thought her little ponies couldn’t handle.”

One way or another, it all comes down to the Princess and her judgment.

“I might be blowing this all out of proportion. We did rediscover those things eventually,” I sighed. “The Crystal Empire might have been extremely advanced in its time, but today, they’re almost normal. Except for their construction methods.”

We were passing through one of the destroyed blocks, freshly cleared of the crystal rubble, and already, stumps of future buildings were jutting out of the ground like baby teeth. I don’t have more than a passing acquaintance with rockology, but what I know is enough to appreciate the deep understanding of the magical properties of matter that goes into growing an entire city out of the ground in days.

“Maybe they are…” Mary murmured, “Then again, maybe not.” She suddenly broke into a trot, or whatever her species calls this gait, outpacing me by a good margin, to crouch before a pony sitting on a bench next to a huge slab of crystal.

“Hello, Richard,” I heard her say.

Author's Note

This conversation is a two-parter because it’s too long and happens to have a natural cliffhanger moment. Worry not, the second part has been written already and will go up at the usual time next week.

Meanwhile, however, you would do well to re-read Conversation 37 before the second half hits, because the time has come to reveal the real Secret of the Crystal Empire.

P.S. Special thanks to Shrink Laureate for editing assistance.

P.P.S. Yes, canonically, the Crystal Empire really is that weird. Remember the ceremonial royal headdress, where skipping a few steps in the algorithm results in damaging Cadance’s mane?

The steps laid down a millennium ago included power tools.

Conversation 44.2: Moondancer

“You must have the wrong pony,” the confused crystal pony replied.

Mary reached a hand out and unceremoniously pulled his glasses off, brushing away the blue-white mane. “Well, I know you’re not Richard. But I’m sure I have the right pony. I have an eye for these things.” She folded the glasses and carefully stuffed them into a pocket on his saddlebag. “Tell me your story. Please? I can’t promise to fix anything, but I am sure you will feel better.”

“I don’t have a story…” he mumbled.

It took me a moment to realize just where we’d ended up. The place looked very different from yesterday, when most of it was just random crystal blocks sticking out of the ground. Tools left around indicated that just like us, the workers went somewhere else for the lunch break, but the progress they’d made since the last time we passed through was significant.

It’s the new Memorial Square.

Framed by six tall pillars, each with a finely chiseled cutie mark on it, representing the Elements. Two new, still blocky, unfinished statues to the sides, both pedestals already labeled in bold, official letters. “Spike the Dragon and Prince Shining Armor, Brothers in Arms, Defenders of Harmony.” The other one read, “Lyra Heartstrings and Princess Cadance, Guardians of the Crystal Heart.” Whoever was in charge of sculpting them chose the moment when Shining Armor came back with Spike, and the moment when Lyra wobbled up to Cadance with the Crystal Heart in her teeth, respectively. While the figures were still rough, they were already very recognizable to anypony who was there to see it happen.

That must be what being there to see history happen feels like…

But the center of the entire composition was a huge roughly-hewn slab, with one side flat and polished to a mirror sheen. The Memory Crystal, with two benches next to it. Already, hundreds of names were chiseled in, and still, it was only about a quarter full. No order, no separation, all the hundreds of the dead, as they were identified. The crystal ponies made no distinction between the four moons under the Usurper and the battle against Tirek and Chrysalis, let alone which side of it the dead were on or where they came from. All were taken in as their own. Only Tirek and Sombra’s names were conspicuously missing.

Some names had cutie marks next to them. Some didn’t. Most of those were changeling names – Spiracle, Tarsus, Coxa – but even then, a few ponies had no cutie mark next to their name at all. Just a blank space.

“Everyone has a story,” Mary insisted. “This is why you’re sitting here, this is a place to remember stories. Everything is a story.” She glanced at the towering slab, standing up and running a finger across the crystal. “Merry Cutie,” she read a name aloud. Next to this name was a high voltage traveling arc cutie mark.

The pony on the bench next to her jerked, but didn’t say anything.

Neither did I, choosing to remain silent, although propriety probably demanded I stop her. I’m sure this stallion needs someone to talk to, he’s not the first crystal pony who can’t remain crystal for more than a few hours that I have seen. It’s like lancing a boil. This is a procedure I have no aptitude for, I always found more comfort in books than in talking to ponies. But if she wanted to join Fluttershy in counseling ponies, why start with him? Is it the same mechanism that helps her select books? Is this choice the result of a magical process, or just unconscious intuition, practiced and trained like her sense of time? Can you even train intuition?

“Your world is laughing at me, you know?” Mary commented. “Let me try this again from the beginning,” she said, crouching before the unfortunate stallion again. “My name is Mary. Mary the Human, they call me. Princess Cadance does, at least. What’s yours?”

“Maximum Plank,” he replied with a sigh. “Just Max. Sorry, I’m… not in the mood for conversations.”

I don’t think he noticed Mary’s face twitch as he said his name, but I definitely did.

Mary’s golden eye glittered, and I was sure that for once, I’m finally seeing the polite, reserved alien in her natural element. An obnoxious element, it seems. “Let me take a guess at what you’re thinking,” she said, sitting on the bench opposite him and staring straight into his still confused eyes. The stallion opened his mouth to say something, but Mary put a finger across his muzzle. “You’re watching ponies work, rebuilding, and you’re thinking that they’re crazy, that everypony must be absolutely insane, that making new things is so useless…”

His eyebrows slowly rose, just as the mouth fell open.

✶                ✶                ✶

Max had quite a story to tell, and it took what felt like hours. Time I spent quietly listening, unnoticed, desperately trying to prevent every single hair of my coat from standing on ends.

Mary took her soaked hankie and hid it somewhere in the pleats of her skirt. She gently patted Max on the head. “Now listen to me closely, Max. I can’t make this right. But there is something you can do.”

“Oh?” he whispered, still sniffling.

“You will go to the castle, and ask the door guards to see the commander of Princess Luna’s security detail, lieutenant Jet Park,” she started, her quiet voice ringing, almost hypnotic. “You will tell him that Mary the Human thinks that it’s vitally important that you get a private audience with Princess Luna. Once you get it, which should happen shortly before sunset, you will tell her everything. Halfway through your audience, she will raise the Moon. And then you will tell her what a nuclear thermal rocket is.”

It took a second for Max to shake the shock and stare into Mary’s swirling golden eye. “A nuclear what?!”

“You’re a very smart pony,” Mary smirked at him. “I’m sure you will figure it out, it’s not like she’s going to ask you for a blueprint up front.”

My knowledge of this branch of physics is not particularly deep, but it didn’t take me long to grasp the idea. An ongoing fission reaction used to heat some kind of working fluid would do it. Just as dangerous as it is efficient. It’s the stuff of science fiction that suddenly became… more theory than fiction, with just three words. Still years away, decades, but now, it’s something I might actually see happen with my own eyes.

“You’re serious about this,” Max stated incredulously. “You think Princess Luna will not just… throw me into a dungeon for what we did?”

“Not if you get to her ahead of the report from whatever the United Kingdoms has for an intelligence agency,” Mary said. “There is a chance of that if you’re too late to tell your story.”

“Maybe I deserve to be thrown into a dungeon,” Max insisted, getting up.

“Don’t be silly,” Mary replied. “Just don’t forget to tell her that this is how ponies can boldly go where none have gone before. Use these exact words. This, this will make everything that happened worth it. Nopony will have died for nothing. Now go, my little pony. You don’t have much time.”

Max dithered hesitantly before Mary, opened his mouth to say something, but once again, remained silent. Eventually, he turned around and galloped away, without saying another word, Mary’s eyes intently tracking him.

Only once he was out of earshot, Mary finally spoke again. “Cute, cuddly ponies, right,” she said with unconcealed sarcasm.

“Just which pony are you calling cute and cuddly?” I inquired, sitting opposite her on the bench Max had just vacated. After hearing this whole story standing still and trying to avoid attracting attention to myself, my head was spinning in a very literal sense, and I was no longer confident I could stay upright.

Mary bit her lip, staring at me with her blue eye before answering. “Whatever you might think about yourself, Moondancer, to a human’s eye, every single pony is cute and child-like, evoking the instinct to protect the young. I would even say that ponies hit that instinct better than human children.” She tilted her head to the side, her golden eye swiveling in my direction, and suddenly twisted the topic around completely. “I’m sure you have already figured out that in my world, nuclear fission is not just theory, but a tried and tested technology. Past a certain point in the timeline, it inevitably turns up.”

“I understood that the moment you started asking Max about the design of that… thing,” I shuddered. “You didn’t stop with just one, I take it.” I’m not sure which is more disturbing, the thought that such a weapon was actually used, and was the reason the Crystal Empire was lost for a millennium, or the idea that Mary’s world has more of them.

“Fifteen thousand, give or take, in fifty years,” Mary deadpanned. “Two were actually used in war. About two thousand were exploded for testing. I actually had to prevent a global nuclear war once, that was fun.”

Sweet Celestia!

“There’s that constant temptation I have, to think your civilization less advanced than mine, just because of what you look like and how you prefer to live,” she continued. “I am quite conscious of it, and yet I find myself slipping all the time. And then I find out that you had a nuclear weapon a thousand years ago. Kinetic enchantments instead of chemical explosives, isotope separation through earth pony magic, instead of gaseous diffusion and centrifuges. Turned from theory to practice through the will of a corrupted mad wizard and slave labor of thousands, sure, but that doesn’t even rate, compared to how many humans were employed to make the first bomb, how long it took them, and how expensive it was. I trust you can imagine my reaction properly, now. Crystal ponies have waltzed through the hardest parts like they weren’t there. Cute, cuddly, shiny ponies.”

“I wish they didn’t,” I said.

“Well, they did. And Sombra used it. The rest is history, and most of the remaining history is considerably less hazy,” Mary smirked. “At least, now we have the answer to our question, and you can finish your report.”

“It’s not exactly the kind of answer that makes my life easier!” I snapped.

“And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you fret,” she said gravely. “No answer would make your life easier, it’s just that kind of question. It isn’t how I would solve this problem, but I certainly don’t have the moral high ground to judge.”

I sighed. This… This will take some time to process. A thousand years ago, ponies making war on ponies was still an occasional fact of life. I shudder to think what war would look like, if a weapon so incredibly destructive was a viable option. Certain fields of magic are still tightly controlled, for the same reason. We know a lot about nuclear fission now, probably more than the Crystal Empire scientists did. They had manufactured more fissile material in four moons than the rest of Equestria produced over the last century, but we did have more time to develop and refine the theories. But are we really better ponies for it, or have we just moved the goalposts further out?

Are we good enough? And could it be that they were good enough, too? Just what makes a pony good enough?

Never mind. It’s something to discuss with a pony, while there’s something about this alien that I should ask right now.

“I’m sorry, I don’t usually ask ponies how their special talent works,” I said. “Most can’t explain, anyway. But this… How the hay did you know?! I’m sure you knew. This… mentalist trick, that was just to get him to open up. You knew the moment you saw him, the rest was just making sure.”

“Logic, a lot of guessing, and some cheating,” Mary smirked. “Your world is laughing at me. This isn’t just a metaphor. Merry Cutie? Sounds way too much like Marie Curie, and that is a name I remember. Maximum’s own name is another match. It’s almost like someone is deliberately throwing me puns pressed into service as hints.”

“This is ridiculous,” I said. And completely unscientific, but recently, I found many reasons to be a lot more careful when using that word.

“No more than the sandwich,” she replied.

That nonsense again. “That’s not answering my question, though,” I said. “Even before those two names came up, you had already decided you must talk to him.”

“Lots of little clues just came together,” Mary said, stretching her legs. “Have you noticed his cutie mark?”

“Not really.”

“It depicts an atomic nucleus with three orbiting electrons,” Mary grinned. “Just like Lyra’s cutie mark means poetry, rather than an actual lyre, this doesn’t mean lithium. For me, it’s the traditional symbol for nuclear physics.”

“It’s also a symbol for science in general,” I countered. “Really, it could mean a lot of things.”

“For it to be a symbol for anything, someone needs to have known what an atom even is. Sure as hay Max didn’t just get his mark yesterday,” Mary insisted. “And then I remembered you mentioning the vault spell with a broken ambient light detection component. I know firsthand what happens to light sensitive equipment too close to a nuclear explosion.”

“Firsthoof?” I ventured. Mary waved her hand in the air. “Oh. Right, sorry.”

That’s… plausible. It’s full of gigantic leaps of intuition, but almost like Twilight, Mary appears to be more intuitive than simply rational in the first place. And yet, it still isn’t what I really wanted to understand.

“Who is Richard?” I finally asked.

“Was. Is. Will be,” Mary sighed, looking away. “Gets messy with time travel, not to mention a completely unrelated story tree, but he was a human I was very much in love with at some point. It… didn’t work out. Couldn’t. I didn’t exactly catch him in the best period in his life, and couldn’t really tell him who I am and where I’m from.”

“So…?” I prompted.

“Richard was a young professor then. He was also one of the physicists who worked on nuclear weapons just a few years back from there. I was pretending to be eighteen again, trying to study physics and figure out how my time machine works,” Mary explained. “He didn’t really talk about this much. But when he thought nobody was looking, that was exactly the face he made. What you called a ‘mentalist trick,’ that was an almost verbatim quote from his autobiography, written many years afterwards.”

“Oh,” was the only thing I could say. “Sorry.” That has all the markings of personal drama I am neither knowledgeable enough to understand nor wish to have any part of.

“Don’t be,” Mary smiled at me. “It’s one of my warmer memories, on average, and you have more to worry about than the emotional state of an alien traveler who meddles your story into a mess.”

“If you manage to stumble into anything more worrying than this before the end of the day,” I replied sternly, “I shall have to send a formal complaint to Princess Celestia!”

“You can ask Prince Blueblood,” she replied, smiling wider. “I’m sure he will be happy to deliver it in person when he’s done here.”

I flushed. Blueblood arrived yesterday evening with a retinue of Guard and a quarrel of lawyers, ostensibly, to sort out the nasty tangle of agreements that applied and did not apply to the newly restored Crystal Empire. The creepy prince did notice me, somehow, and while he was fairly courteous, I was quite put off by the realization that he only talked to me because he was hoping I would know where Trixie disappeared off to again.

“Did you notice that he came with a huge, unmarked wooden crate?” Mary inquired. “It was nothing like the rest of his luggage, which tops what Rarity brings with her on an average trip. Then he called Cadance off for a private conversation, and the crate disappeared. I’m sure it’s nothing important, of course,” she added, making a creepy grin.

“How the hay do you manage to turn everything into a spy novel?” I wondered.

Just as Mary was about to reply, we were interrupted. “Now, girls, what have I told you before?” a stern voice rang out above our heads.

“Sorry, Fluttershy, we were busy,” I said, cautiously glancing up, trying to avoid looking into her eyes. I had forgotten about lunch entirely, and the prospect of Fluttershy chewing you out has that mysterious way to instill even more mortal terror than Princess Luna. “It was… important.”

“What could be so important that you have to miss lunch?!” Fluttershy insisted. “Everypony was worried! I had to send soldiers out to look for you!”

“We got held up helping somepony,” Mary replied, tilting her head towards the Memory Crystal.

“Oh… Oh!” Fluttershy mumbled, finally noticing just where we were and landing between us to stare at the slab. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, I should have been there…”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Mary replied. “Is the lunch still on the menu?”

It took Fluttershy a whole second to process that. “I’m sure that didn’t make much sense. Why do you keep trying to confuse me, Mary?” she frowned.

“Because you’re a sweet pony, and being angry doesn’t really look good on you,” Mary countered. “Come on then,” she said, standing up.

A late lunch is better than no lunch, I suppose.

Author's Note

Was the Secret not what you expected? That’s all for the secret itself, really, but one mystery just gets replaced by another one, doesn’t it?

We’re almost done in the Crystal Empire, but it’s not the kind of place to let you go easily. Just one more chapter.

P.S. Maximum Plank is not an original character, but a background pony that first appears in Equestria Games, asking Spike for an autograph. He reappears multiple times after that, most recently in Fame and Misfortune.

The episode rating so high on cringe scale is probably why you don’t remember the guy exists.

P.P.S. You might be interested in a highly ~~Pinkiefied~~ fictionalized account of the events of the Crystal Empire’s disappearance in Power of the Sun, a short story I wrote… damn, it was two years ago by now, wasn’t it? Well, this chapter finally establishes it as a proper side story, a memory from a very similar world just a few steps away.

Conversation 45: Mary

Industrial desert.

Technically, an industrial steppe, but with the way this one fared, it might as well be a desert.

It probably wouldn’t look quite so alien if it wasn’t so dark, but in daylight, I remember this place looking magnitudes uglier. Moonlight would be more picturesque, but the Moon had yet to rise. A vast plain, peppered with concrete roads covered by ever-present bleak dust and gleaming railways. Tiny utilitarian buildings and gigantic hangars, surrounded by many kilometers of barbed wire fence woven through ugly concrete posts. Skeletal steel frames sticking far up into the sky. Thick white smoke trails shining brightly in the spotlights.

A tower.

Two towers, one of them a white, narrow cone, like a horn standing on the wider end. A pyramid to human ambition. Such a shame this one didn’t work.

“I was starting to worry something happened, Luna. I expected you two days ago.” I called out into the night and turned around.

Theory confirmed: If I concentrate on a specific memory while falling asleep, Luna’s intervention results in a dream featuring the time and place of said memory. As usual, the bloody golden eye treats it as a mind-altering effect and stops the clock in an attempt to shut her out, while making the dream lucid. I’ve got no control over it, but I did get to pick the memory to start with.

Let’s hope the next step of the plan works as well, because I’m not entirely sure it’s supposed to.

“You have created quite a conundrum for me, Mary Clarissa,” Luna answered, stepping softly across the sandy ground. Her expression was uncharacteristically blank and controlled. “I must admit it has kept me busy beyond all expectations. Is this horrible fence here to keep you from destroying yet another tower?” she asked, carefully peeking in between the strings of barbed wire.

“It’s not a tower,” I replied. “Well, rather, that ugly gray thing is technically called a launch tower. But it moves, so I’m not sure it really qualifies. The white one is just a rocket.”

Luna pulled her head out of the fence and turned to look at me with a raised eyebrow. “Are you usually this manipulative with your friends?” she asked. “Maximum Plank admitted you told him to use exact words, but I find it difficult to believe you did not expect me to notice.”

“I’ll admit it was an indirect invitation to talk,” I said. Because that’s exactly what it was. “I told him to say ‘to go boldly where none have gone before’ because I was sure it would catch your attention.”

Technically, I could have gone to her directly, Luna left standing orders to admit me whenever I wish to talk. But then, I wouldn’t be able to illustrate my point.

“That was malicious of you,” Luna replied. Did I actually hear her voice wavering? “Why do you tempt me so? You heard from him first, you know what transpired in the Crystal Empire. Surely you understand why this is a secret. This research cannot be allowed.”

“Max told me his story,” I replied. “I would hear yours as well, if you’re up to telling it.”

According to Max, their uranium refining process was as simple as dissolving pitchblende in hydrochloric acid and inducing forced growth of a monocrystal of uranium dioxide with magic techniques very similar to the ones they use to grow their quartz buildings. The resulting crystal would be high purity uranium-235, because uranium-238 is far less magic-reactive. Do it twice and you get weapons grade enrichment, because every subsequent stage gets easier.

The process can have numerous industrial applications, so eventually, someone would try it on uranium again, just to see what happens, and a criticality accident of the kind that killed Merry Cutie would eventually follow. Uranium is used in ceramic glazes, and ponies love bright colors. The reasons to keep tight control over this branch of earth pony magic are obvious.

But the reason Sombra had to put the entire population to work wasn’t the refining process itself – a handful of specialists would be enough. It was the fact that ponies, accustomed to “farming” minerals in controlled conditions, were unprepared for actual mining on that kind of scale. Which they had to do, because uranium-238 prevents magical growth of uranium ores. Controlling known deposits would have been enough to prevent anyone else from making a bomb.

Something is missing.

“So that you can condemn our decisions?” Luna scoffed. “I think not. What we did was a horrible thing, there’s no denying that. More horrible still, for we must keep doing it.”

“The only one who can condemn anything here would be you,” I pointed out. “I am a nobody from nowhere. There’s no reason my opinion should matter, unless you decide it does. Never mind that I don’t actually have one.”

“Truly?” she asked, squinting at me.

I shrugged. “You haven’t told me your story.”

Luna sighed, and turned away from me to look at the rocket again. “What sort of journey is this vessel for?”

“Thirty metric tons to Lunar orbit,” I told her.

She chuckled. “What’s that in stone?”

What, firkin wasn’t obscure enough for you? “Five thousand, give or take.”

“This immense tower, to send a mere five thousand stone to orbit your moon?…” Luna asked, scrunching her face. “Surely you jest.”

“Almost all of it is fuel, and most of that gets expended even before the rocket exits the atmosphere,” I explained. “Our moon is the size of your entire Earth and is something like a thousand times further away. That’s the cost of living on a non-magical planet.”

She sighed again. It was a tense pause.

“Have you ever seen ponies go to war, Mary?” she asked.

“Just a few days ago.” Did she mean to impress me? It’s not working.

Luna laughed mirthlessly. “No, that was no war… The ponies of the Crystal Empire have always been a shining example of what a pony should be. Wise, peaceful, curious. Celebrating love and fellowship. Accepting. Too bad that most of the continent could not follow their example without us looking over their shoulders. It was a tumultuous time. I have had historians approach me since my return, and chose to turn their inquiries away. Far better that ponies remember their heroes, but keep the memory of their monsters consigned to obscurity.”

Their heroes. It’s almost like she doesn’t count herself among ponies. And yet, alicorns are what ponies can become, right?

“With the Crystal Empire gone, would anyone even bother making another bomb, even if they had the knowledge?” I wondered. “It’s a stupidly expensive way to get rid of your fellow pony, never mind the massive overkill. One who can put the entire available adult population to work in mines would get better results putting them all in armor. It’s not exactly work easy to conceal, either.”

“We only realized what was going on when we met the stallion himself,” Luna sighed. “It is counterintuitive, is it not? Yet there was a method to that madness. ‘King’ Sombra did not merely seek a bigger bite of Equestria, but to conquer the world entire. He was expecting us to raise the host of all our vassals and allies, and challenge him on an open field come spring. We would never even reach the gates. He would have wiped out the entire host in but an instant, and terrified, all the kingdoms of Equestria would bow before him. A solid plan, undone but by a happenstance and my sister’s stubbornness.”

She shivered. “I still remember it like it was yesterday. It… it might be ancient history for everypony, even for Celestia. For me, scant years have elapsed. I still remember how the burns used to itch. Had we a host with us, had we but a single pony, she would have tried to shield them too, and that would have been our end. As it is, we narrowly escaped igniting the very air itself. If there is even a slight chance that another such weapon—”

“Wait, what?” I interrupted. “Igniting air? Fission explosions don’t do that.”

Luna narrowed her eyes at me. “Surely you are educated enough in these arts to know that such a scenario is inevitable, given a high enough temperature.”

“I even know that fission is insufficient for the purpose,” I replied. I wonder how did she even suspect fusion was possible, given that the sun here is definitely not actually a star. Max never even mentioned the idea. “Such concerns are often floated, but I haven’t even heard of a world where they were tested and came out correct, it’s fairly universal physics.”

Luna raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Energy losses through radiation always overtake the gain from reaction,” I stated. “Sustained pressure is required for sustained fusion, temperature isn’t enough. Have you checked with a specialist? Because I’m not anywhere as much of a polymath as I would like to be.”

That probably sounded condescending to her. “Where would thee have us find one, human?” Luna snapped, her beautiful face distorted by fury. “We spent moons trying to figure out what happened and how was it done, piecing together reports and letters collected from all across the realm! If Sombra didn’t choose to gloat and explain, we wouldn’t even know where to start our inquiries! And once we understood it, the mere chance that this was a possibility was enough! We face enough threats of extinction, we shall not permit ponies to increase their number!”

You don’t shout at princesses even when they deserve it. You don’t let them shout at you, either. I wonder, when was the last time anyone but Celestia seriously contradicted you, Luna? Now that we have our missing piece, it’s time to offer her a piece of my mind. Careful, not too much.

“Well, tell you what, your highness,” I hissed, leaning into her face. “Here’s my opinion, now that I actually have one. Let us assume, for a moment, that even one bomb might result in an atmospheric fire. Every adult crystal pony contributed to its construction. Hundreds have knowledge that can be used to do it. You would have to shut them all out, again, and that is the one thing Cadance will never let you do.”

“We won’t have to. Young Cadance sees reason and will keep the secret, as is her duty as a Princess of Equestria!” Luna spat back. “It’s nothing we haven’t done before!”

“Sure,” I agreed. “But even while the Crystal Empire was taking a time-out, ponies have been marching on, and now they’re back at the gates of whatever happens next. The truth is there, it just exists. Nothing you do will permanently change the laws of physics. How many fairytales do you remember where a truth hinted at in the beginning never comes back to bite the heroes at the end, Luna?”

“So what would you have us do, then?” she hissed. “Lie down and accept our fate?!”

“I would see to it that ponies spread through the stars, so that no matter what happens, no fate can befall all of them,” I said, raising a finger to punctuate. “I would endorse any research to further this goal and every madness that has a chance to get them there. Especially if I actually believed fusion fires are possible, because if they are, a stray particle might trigger one.”

“It’s easy for you to say that now. Going to the stars was barely a glimmer of an idea at the time!” Luna exclaimed.

I wonder why it was one at all. Hell, I’m still not sure why do the modern ponies have any spaceflight aspirations, they should be expecting to live within a solid crystal sphere.

“You don’t live at the time,” I declared. “You live now. It took me years to recognize how important that is.”

“Even so!” Luna spat back. “This is far too much power to put into the hooves of one pony, and no matter how many are involved in the construction of these foul things, it is one hoof that triggers them, one voice that gives the order.”

“And this is exactly an objection I originally expected you to make,” I grinned, taking a step back. “I have the perfect argument against it, just so you know.”

“Say your piece, then, Mary, don’t play with me, for I have no stomach for it,” Luna frowned. “There is no denying that you have unique insights, but that does not mean you get to be patronizing.”

“Let me tell you a story, then,” I said, circling around her to stand between her and the barbed wire fence. Keep the rocket in her field of view.

Luna smiled at me faintly, trailing me with her eyes. I know she likes when I tell her stories. I’m sure that if I didn’t have a huge supply, she would not be anywhere as eager to check on me so often.

“Far, far away,” I began, “there is a tree of worlds, where humans had finally, through no small amount of effort, put an end to all wars and violence between themselves. They swore off weapons and went to the stars, expecting that any species smart enough to do so too will greet them in peace.”

“Something tells me there’s a catch,” Luna frowned thoughtfully. “All your stories about humans seem to come with one.”

“Indeed,” I smirked. “There was a catch, for the first species they encountered, after colonizing the nearby stars, was the kzinti. Sort of like a tiger. Way taller than me, way heavier, all muscle and teeth and claws, hunts sapients for sport and calls them food, culture bent on honor and glory and war.”

“A dead ringer for some of the griffon tribes of old,” Luna commented. “We were fortunate that few espoused such views. The greedy ones are far more reasonable.”

“Kzinti also had telepaths, superior starships, and weapons galore,” I added. “And there were a lot more of them than humans.”

“I thought you said most human worlds have no magic to them,” Luna said.

“Inborn psychic abilities are somewhat more common than outright magic,” I explained. “Especially in worlds where humans go to the stars, for some reason… So those kzinti telepaths, they kept insisting that humans had no weapons, and barely even understood the concept anymore. And yet, the first encounter of a kzinti warship with a peaceful human colony ship ended with the destruction of the warship.”

Luna blinked in surprise. “Oh?”

“They did occupy one colony,” I admitted. “But once they got to Earth, the kzinti fleets were beaten back. And humans still did not have weapons. They even managed to strike back. Over the decades, four invasions were stopped. By the time the fifth invasion was ready, a more peaceful and powerful neighboring species took notice, and humans got the chance to turn the tables for good. There is one adage that emerged from the first Man-Kzin war, well remembered, and quoted even in stories far away from there. They call it the Kzinti Lesson.”

And now, the trick I was setting up ever since I went to sleep. The golden eye takes objection to Luna interfering in my dreams, and whatever power I might have had over them as a lucid dreamer is unavailable. But in Library terms, a lucid dream is a subsidiary story, and like every story, I can leave it. What I need to do is to stop on the threshold, so that I don’t wake up, but only just. With luck, this should force the eye to permit the dream time to proceed.

I clicked my heels three times.

There's no place like home...

There's no place like home...

There's no place stop here.

Behind my back I heard the hissing sounds and the tail end of the countdown, and involuntarily, my lips curled into a grin. It worked. I only have a few seconds until the eye catches up, but to show what I had to show, I only need about eighteen.

I knew the sequence of what happened next exactly, even though I couldn’t see it again, because I stood with my back to the rocket, intently watching for Luna’s reaction. The roar of the engines should have been deafening, but somehow, my voice carried clear over it anyway, and while Luna’s wide open eyes tracked the rocket, her ears pointed directly at me.

“A beam of light powerful enough to send a message to another star burns things to a crisp up close. A reaction’s drive efficiency as a weapon is in direct proportion to its efficiency as a drive. Vehicles of peaceful exploration are powerful machines, easily repurposed. That was the Kzinti Lesson. Whether you burn kerosene or uranium to fuel your engines makes no difference at all.”

One of the thirty first stage engines exploded, and, having just cleared the tower, the rocket dipped to the side. The automatic engine balancing system tried to compensate and turned off several engines opposite it, but that still didn’t save the launch, as more and more engines went out.

“To go where none have gone before requires tremendous power, and power comes with no color. If you believe that none should have such power, you don’t get to go anywhere.”

The expression on Luna’s face was best described as that of a football fan who just saw her team’s goalkeeper fail to save a penalty shot. She opened her mouth for a pained yell, but I never heard it, as over two and a half thousand tons of rocket, kerosene and liquid oxygen crashed into the launchpad and exploded.

It was the shockwave that knocked me awake for good.

✶                ✶                ✶

I woke up alone in an empty train car, with lights dimmed to an almost total darkness. Right, we were going back to Ponyville.

Step one, tentative success. Even if I screw this story up into complete nonsense along the way, I can at least expect that after I go home, one day, eventually, ponies will go interplanetary, so no matter what kind of monster the universe throws at them, this will not be the end. Of course, because the Library deduplication rule says that every two given stories occur in the same world, unless this results in a logical contradiction, they’re just as likely to stumble into the Imperium of Man out there as they are to meet the United Federation of Planets. Or space ponies. Or nobody. But more colonies means more options regardless.

It’s lucky that Luna was already predisposed to such a course, and convincing her that it’s permissible was the limit of what I needed to do. But why is she predisposed to it? Lore seems to imply that the reason for her downfall was ‘jealousy.’ But there’s no way in hell she rebelled against her sister just because ponies didn’t love her enough. First chance she got, she put in an order for a selective visibility dress with Rarity, I was there. I’m pretty sure that if you put Luna on a pedestal, she’ll fall apart and run away after ten minutes.

Just what kind of history did this Equestria even have? It’s all smoke, mirrors and anachronisms, mangled and edited. Where did that Tirek come from? What else do they have in their sealed evil in a can collection?

Somewhere behind my back, a muffled sound of hooves on the carpet betrayed a pony trying to creep towards the sleeping car.

Moondancer went to sleep earlier. The royal guards found reasons to be in some other car even before I took the seat. It seems that over my short time in the Crystal Empire I have acquired a reputation not unlike Zecora’s, at least in some circles, so around me, they behave with excessive caution. Almost all of the Mane Six passed through before I fell asleep, which only leaves…

“Twilight, you don’t have to creep through a moving train,” I declared.

“I was sure you’d be asleep,” she smiled sheepishly, peeking over my shoulder. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Evil never sleeps,” I tossed back, “for there’s no rest for the wicked.”

“Did you mean to say you’re evil?” she wondered, sitting opposite me. “Or is it just another linguistic collision like the word ‘empire?’”

“It’s a figure of speech,” I explained. “Two, actually. Which I’ve misused for the sake of a bad, unfunny joke.”

Twilight chuckled. “It does sound a little funny. But I can’t quite place why.”

I lifted an eyebrow at her. “Don’t you have any proverbs about eternal vigilance against evil?”

“Not really,” Twilight replied, rubbing her chin with a hoof. Which looks funny when, strictly speaking, what ponies have can’t be called a chin. “Not paranoid, you said. We don’t really assume this sort of thing about ponies, at least, we try not to.”

“Well, humans do, at least, in my world,” I explained. “Kind of cultural. Which is why they say that evil never sleeps. If you relax,” I added, making the air quotes, “that’s the moment the abstract ‘evil’ will eat you.”

“But why would there be no rest for the wicked?” Twilight wondered. “I don’t see how these could be connected.”

“That’s completely unrelated,” I smirked. “It’s a separate quote from religious writing, part of a declaration of divine punishment. ‘People who do evil will have no peace.’ It gets taken out of context all the time. But taken together, don’t you think these two sayings match very well?”

Twilight stared at me in surprise. “But that makes it a loop! So people do evil, and through punishment they have no peace, so they never sleep, so they become cranky, and more evil, and more dangerous, presumably, so what’s the point of punishing them like that in the first place?! What kind of divinities do you humans even believe in?!”

“That’s the joke?” I shrugged. “Morbid absurdity of life is kind of a popular idea back home. I just used to meet people at all times of day, and often, out of sequence, so after I got tired of answering that no, I do sleep, sometimes, I started brushing them off with a joke.”

“But if you sleep, sometimes,” Twilight smiled, “that’s proof you’re not evil by that definition.”

“Considering that the universe seems to conspire to demonstrate how ethically ambiguous everything I do is?” I wondered. “I’m not sure it matters anymore whether I’m evil or not.”

Author's Note

Dedicated to the 49th anniversary of the Moon landing that succeeded. Just a couple of days ago.

The rocket Mary attempts to impress Luna with is the second launch of the Soviet N1 rocket, from the failed Soviet manned Moon landing program. That launch in particular is known as the biggest explosion in the history of rocketry, and one of the biggest non-nuclear explosions ever, clocking in at anywhere between 1 and 7 kilotons TNT, depending on who quotes the number and why. For comparison, the Hiroshima bomb yielded about 15 kilotons TNT. This is what you get when a rocket the size of Saturn V blows up on the pad. N1 was launched a total of four times, and every launch ended in failure, but the large stockpile of engines made for them remained even after the cancellation of the program, and they were used later – on NASA rockets.

The idea that a fission bomb (and later on, a fusion bomb) can cause either the atmosphere or the oceans or both to undergo self-sustaining fusion and eventually burn away was a real concern early on in the development of atomic weapons. It’s very lucky that we live in a world where that doesn’t work, though it took some very smart people to prove that. While worlds where it does work, somehow, are not entirely unknown in fiction, the only one that comes to my mind is the visual novel Dysfunctional Systems. Even there, it requires a mysterious “true fusion” bomb, the design of which is never elaborated on.

The canon of Crystal Empire leaves such an interestingly shaped hole, that it needs pretty extraordinary things to fill, and this here was my take.

But for now, we’re finally done with it, and can continue digging deeper into the rabbit hole in the next story arc. Onward to Ponyville, the Castle of the Two Sisters, and the mysteries of the Journal!

Conversation 46.1: Twilight Sparkle

I was curled up on the carpet in my bedroom, idly leafing through the fake Journal. To pretend I was reading it would be a gross misrepresentation of facts, for I had already gone through every single word, picture, and ink blot with a magnifying glass. Despite that, I was not one step closer to understanding the mysterious author than I had been on the day I first opened it.

Instead, my thoughts kept drifting back to the crystal castle in the North, the Elements, safely locked in a glass box on the other side of the room, and our adventure. The adventure that started with a completely unexpected invitation to a wedding, occupied the better part of a month, and involved events both wondrous and terrifying. This trip had to be extended far longer than any of us had anticipated, throwing everypony’s schedules into complete disarray that still had us reeling.

The number of tasks that Sweet Apple Acres had accumulated that simply could not be done without Applejack was such that, upon discovering it, she sternly stated that she would not be available for anything short of preventing a certain end of the world for at least a month more.

Rarity, upon opening the door of her boutique, found a small mountain of discreet missives, requesting the possibility of getting one of the Spirits of Hearth’s Warming dresses, on top of Moondancer’s order, which has been made face to face. She sunk into work and “borrowed” Spike with no apparent intention of “returning” him until summer. Or sticking her nose out the door for longer than it takes to greet the mailmare, for that matter.

Fluttershy’s animals were getting restless without their landlady and rebelled against Caramel, whom she’d hired to keep them fed, which escalated into barricades and illegibly scrawled placards meant to imitate political slogans. As a result, Fluttershy was likewise occupied for the immediately foreseeable future. Her animal friends would only permit her to venture out into the market when accompanied by a bear, for fear of her getting called away on an important mission again.

Rainbow had a few choice words to say regarding the performance of her weather patrol in her absence, which went on rather loudly and for a while. It culminated in an abruptly rescheduled rainstorm, that left huge puddles all across town, which still haven’t dried.

Pinkie had her party schedule overflowing to make up for every little thing she missed, and that was about to become a roller-coaster for the legends. Many socially important events occurred in our absence, chief among them the long-awaited birth of the Cake twins, and now, the little Pound Cake and Pumpkin Cake occupied the entirety of their parents’ time, leaving Sugarcube Corner exactly one Pinkie away from closing down.

The coursework I had to make up seemed a light burden in comparison to what everyone was going through. Even Mary, who didn’t have a schedule to start with, did not come out unscathed. Before leaving for Canterlot, she’d managed to subscribe to just about every national daily newspaper, and a staggering number of other periodicals. Upon our return, she had to enlist the help of Zecora to drag the accumulated cartload of paper into her house in Everfree, because mailponies would not deliver to either of our two Everfree residents, claiming that the mail service area stops just past Fluttershy’s cottage.

All of this had left me alone with nothing but books for company this evening, and while this is a state I typically find very comfortable, after a week spent in constant contact, with the Elements sharply highlighting our respective presence in each other’s minds, I could not help but feel lonely and distraught.

And now I feel like I’m being watched. That presence somewhere behind me, the sheer pressure that heats up the air.

“I never stopped watching, just so you know,” Rika declared.

I turned my head slowly to look at the dark figure reclining on the stairs to the upper level of the room, her arms folded in front and propping up what had to be her teats, covered by the impenetrable black cloth. Needless to say, I was quite certain I hadn’t heard her saying hello… But just like before, I was sure I never heard her say goodbye, either.

“Well, if you didn’t,” I started, “would it be too much to ask you to explain yourself? Now would be a good time.”

“Oh?” she raised an eyebrow at me.

“I know that you deliberately set Fluttershy up to find out about the upcoming changeling invasion,” I stated. Rarity was quite graphic when describing the conversation at lunch that brought this to light. “She was agonizing over it for the entire week! What do you have to say for yourself?!”

“It was an opportunity,” she smiled. “I took it. If I didn’t, Mary would not have told you a thing, the mainline commits would get applied, and all of your friends would abandon you for Chrysalis. Would that make you feel better?”

“You don’t know what would happen!” I snapped reflexively.

“Do you presume to know what I do and don’t know, Twilight?” Rika asked, distorting her face into a grimace. “Really, truly?”

“Even assuming that you were correct,” I reluctantly conceded, “this was simply cruel of you.”

“I kind of expected she would run crying to you first thing, you know,” Rika shrugged. “It’s not my fault she decided to bottle it all in and be the responsible one.”

I’m not even sure telling her to apologize is worth the trouble. I’m not certain she understands the concept. This… I imagine this is what talking to Discord would feel like, if he wasn’t bent on crushing my ego into the ground and was just a neutral observer. Mostly neutral. Mostly observer. There is something she wants, I’m sure of it, I just don’t really understand what it is. Let’s try that angle.

“Why did you do it?” I asked. “What were you hoping to achieve?” I wanted to ask if it was even worth it, but left the implicit question hanging in the air.

“Oh,” she replied, smiling widely, all teeth on display, “but it was worth it. Damned if I know how she did it, because that is supposed to be impossible, but I’m pretty sure that Mary is your author, now. Has been even before she opened this book. Not figuratively, either, she isn’t simply deciding your future.”

I felt the hairs of my mane start slowly curling up and willed them to stay in place. Right, Lyra mentioned she can hear thoughts if you think in words. This is going to be even more uncomfortable than I imagined. “And you don’t see the logical contradiction in that?” I asked.

“I do, that’s why it’s impossible,” Rika agreed, hopping off the staircase and landing in front of my face in one swift motion, forcing me to turn around as she flew over my head in a graceful arc. I flinched, looking up at her. “Especially because I know that she has never even heard about Tirek or Moondancer, but here they are. Tell me, what, do you think, is the probability that in a randomly selected Equestria, ponies are speaking English?” Rika asked.

I carefully closed the Journal and moved it out of the way in my magic, so that she wouldn’t step on it. “Equish,” I insisted.

“Same difference,” Rika dismissed, crouching before me, which at least meant I didn’t have to look straight up at her. “What is the probability? Take a guess.”

“Wait,” I wondered. “I was sure that all books would be in that English of yours. How else would Mary read them?!”

Rika giggled, stretching out before me on the floor. “Seriously, Twilight. So suppose you’re reading a book about alien alicorns who meet Equestrian space pirates, do they all speak English too?”

“Equish!” I insisted again.

“Equish, whatever,” Rika waved a hand. “Do they or don’t they?”

I considered the question seriously. “Well, I would assume the alien alicorns have their own language, or they wouldn’t be very alien…”

“Would you ever hear them speaking it?” Rika pressed, pushing her head towards me and nearly bumping into my horn.

“Depends. Sufficiently advanced alien alicorns would find it easy to learn Equish if they needed to,” I replied, not giving any ground. I’m nowhere as sensitive to random invasions of personal space as I had been a year ago. Rika is still unnerving as all hay up close, with this faint smell of petroleum, and eyes that look like intricately painted glass, but now that I know what to expect, I am not going to be shocked. I never expected that this would be something to thank Pinkie for, but credit where it’s due.

“Most stories come with a translation lens, you see,” Rika grinned. “There is nothing in the universe, except words. If the characters can’t talk to each other, they have a problem. But if the reader can’t hear what the characters say, there’s no story. With your tree, the probability of a visitor finding a completely alien language and mysteriously acquiring the ability to speak it, or simply having a translation spell cast on them is about 80%.”

“This would never work!” I exclaimed. “All translation spells require the caster to competently speak both languages they translate between.”

Rika chuckled. “How fortunate that you didn’t need one then.”

“What would you do if translation was required but wasn’t possible, though?” I wondered.

“I’d trigger the translation lens, Mary would notice and try to chew me out about it, but eventually settle down, because she knows that talking to you is more important,” Rika declared. “It’s pretty easy.”

“If it’s so easy, why is not needing it proof of anything?” I asked. “Extraordinary claims like that need solid evidence, and I don’t see how this is evidence of anything at all!”

“Ah, but that’s just the first one!” Rika grinned. “Speaking plain English is mildly unusual, but hardly unique. But then, if I collate everything else… The usual Chrysalis is a melodramatic, cardboard idiot, only dangerous because she has an army of fanatics at her beck and call. But not here. Here, she turns out to have had a complicated, multi-stage plan, and when getting desperate, she unleashes an apocalyptic gamble.”

A gamble that, upon reflection, failed in a large part because Trixie, of all ponies, ended up in the right place at the right time. I had not been pleased to discover just how closely we brushed the end of the world. “Is that supposed to be a good thing, somehow?” I asked. “Because the way you talk about it seems to imply you think it is.”

“It’s supposed to be a true thing,” Rika tossed back. “Then, your brother, who so rarely rises above being ‘a pretty boy for Cadance’ – don’t look at me like that, Twilight, it’s true – is suddenly efficient, when in the mainline, he gets saved by you so often, that he is the first to acknowledge how ridiculous that is.”

I chose to bite back everything I had to say and keep listening, because it was pretty certain she had a whole list.

Indeed, Rika was not stopping. “And don’t forget Cadance herself, who does miracles in the name of love, Trixie, who can give you a run for your money, Royal Guard who actually put up a solid fight, despite being a fancy police force… Even Sombra is a mad genius, whose only failing was that he expected Celestia and Luna to be pragmatic, when they chose to be noble.”

“Is this going somewhere?” I inquired. The statement regarding Sombra in particular was very confusing.

“Individually, all of this is not exactly unique,” Rika replied, edging into my personal space again. “But what are the chances, that randomly picking a book off the shelf, Mary would find an iteration of Equestria where everyone is competent?”

She’s working from a fallacy. “Exactly the same as any other random combination of competence and incompetence,” I stated, gently pushing her away with the tip of my horn. “Assuming all the variables are independent, and I don’t see how they could possibly be related.”

“Really?” she said, looking scornfully at me. “You know what Mary hates the most in the world? Idiots. ‘Against stupidity the gods themselves,’ and all that. She says that competent people can be trusted to act in the name of some goal, noble or ignoble. With them, altering history is a problem of picking the ones to support and motivate, getting them a few lucky breaks. But every idiot is stupid in a unique way.”

Do I really have to explain basic math? “If I roll six dice, and they all come up sixes,” I said, “actually getting six sixes is not more or less probable than any other combination just because I want that result to happen!”

“Just so you know, I don’t actually care if you believe me or not,” Rika smirked, leaning into my direction again. “But I told you. I don’t believe in coincidence.”

“Does the universe change to accommodate what you do or do not believe?” I wondered, pulling back slightly. It might. That would be utterly terrifying.

“If it knows what’s good for it,” she suddenly answered in a serious, almost threatening tone. “Look at the brighter side, Twilight,” she added, standing up, almost flowing upwards from the floor. “A story where a magical girl doesn’t just sacrifice herself to save people, but becomes their very way of life is a rare treasure even among the five quintillion books. You should be happy you get to live in one, wherever you think it actually came from.”

I was about to wonder just how uncommon she believes our world to be, really, but she never gave me a chance. Instead, she turned around and made a step, fading into the bookshelves and leaving me alone again.

I sighed.

She really did remind me of Discord. And no matter how nasty he was, how annoying, how determined to exploit our weaknesses and grind us into the dirt, I could not deny he had some very deep insight into the virtues that make us. “Twists and turns are my master plan. Then find the Elements back where you began.”

Not the worst heuristic. Maybe I really should retrace my steps and start again from the beginning. And while this quest began right here, in my library, with Mary’s deceptively simple question regarding a popular snack, there was the next step, one that left avenues unexplored. The Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters.

I reached for the shelf where I stashed the books recovered from the castle library and sorted out the cookbooks, all fifteen of them, spreading them in front of me. Evidence that sandwiches existed in the pre-classical period would not really clear anything up, but it might provide me with an unexpected lead.

Upon closer inspection, the first cookbook was very familiar, looking almost like a prior edition of the famous “Book of Tasty and Healthy Food,” first published centuries later, rediscovered and reprinted numerous time since. I never knew that seminal work itself had a prior source influencing it so deeply, but here I had one. Interesting, but not it.

The next three books were likewise unusual, but hardly pertinent. One listed as many as thirty distinct ways of cooking oats. Another described a ridiculously complicated and expensive-looking recipe for Olivier salad. The only thing it had in common with what we call Olivier salad now were the titular olives.

The fifth one was in Griffish, and was titled “To serve pony,” which nearly convinced me that I made a mistake when picking it up. It only took me about ten pages to realize that I did not. Ew. Griffon scholars insisted that books like this one were a myth!

The sixth cookbook was hornwritten, barely legible, in Pony Latin, and looked more like somepony’s set of private notes than a book anypony meant for wider consumption. Next to a tasty looking recipe for éclairs, there was a whole page devoted to describing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, specifying the precise variety of bread, size and shape of pieces, as well as quantities of the peanut butter and jelly. The jelly was absolutely required to be peach.

Éclairs. The Journal mentioned Star Swirl’s skill at making éclairs. On a hunch, I cast Haycartes’ Argument for Illusion on the book, and the lines dissolved before me, revealing hastily scrawled Old Ponish in the same horn, even more illegible than the cookbook was.

By Jove, I think I’ve got it!

Author's Note

Yes, another multipart chapter, but really, there’s a lot to discuss.

Conversation 46.2: Twilight Sparkle

After a few seconds spent wondering whether she actually has a doorbell, and what one might even look like, I opted for a simpler solution. I knocked. Let’s just hope she’s up by now. I don’t really want to dawdle in the Everfree any longer than necessary. Standing on a doormat amidst a neat lawn doesn’t change the fact that a dangerous forest continues just a stone’s throw away.

“How many times do I have to tell you, I don’t want to go hunting,” Mary’s voice yelled from inside.

“Hunting is not what I had in mind, anyway!” I yelled back, and heard shuffling, muffled crackling noises and something that sounded suspiciously like curses in a language I couldn’t identify.

“It’s you,” Mary smiled, swinging the door open and almost smashing my muzzle in with bright orange plastic. “I thought it was a manticore again.”

“Do manticores knock?” I asked in surprise.

“They do now,” she grinned at me. “I had to threaten to eat the one that didn’t, but they’re actually quite civil most of the time. They seem to have filed me away with the ambush predators. Trying to invite those for a hunt seems to be their idea of a prank. Don’t just stand there, come in,” she said, disappearing inside.

I was about to ask when she’d learned to speak manticore, but then I noticed the scorch marks on the path to the house. Figures.

It took me a moment to remember my manners and step through the door, shutting it behind myself. The inside of a human house looked strangely… normal. Like a room in a cheap hotel, only a few notches above a stable – spacious, but mostly empty and sterile, if you don’t count the large table in the middle, tall enough that it would never be comfortable to use without a chair, all covered in books and newspapers. Most of the books were the ones she’d checked out from my library, but a few weren’t. Like that huge tome of “Equestria Accords: The Complete Annotated Edition with Commentary by Legal Fiction,” which, apparently, fell onto the floor when she tried to get out of the nest of newspapers that surrounded her chair.

“I don’t think that threatening to eat her is going to work with Rarity,” I commented. “If she sees you wearing that, she’s going to peel you and burn it on the spot.” She was wearing some kind of black track suit, which had obviously been made for something only roughly anatomically similar – whether it was a very thin minotaur or a very large Abyssinian, I couldn’t tell. “Even I can tell it’s monstrous. Where did you even get that?!”

“There’s a shop in Canterlot that sells used clothing,” she explained. “Lots of interesting things in there, and I needed something to wear around the house. I could ask Rarity, but she’s busy with Luna’s dress, Moondancer’s entire wardrobe, and there’s a huge line of orders after those. She would surely make something far too precious for the purpose, anyway.”

I perked my ears up. “Wait, she got an order from Princess Luna? She never told me!”

“I actually caught Luna making that order a few hours after her troops landed,” Mary replied, pushing aside the newspapers and edging between them into her chair. “I didn’t tell you that, by the way.” She wordlessly motioned towards the second chair opposite her with her hand.

“My lips are sealed,” I grinned, climbing into the chair. “So, what are you researching?”

“Monitor everything,” she whispered with a grin that was more than a little creepy. I shivered. This sounded like a parody of my own time travel experience. Probably was. I keep forgetting how much of my private shame she’s actually aware of. “Historical context of the entire mess we just got out of, mostly,” she added. “You have a really twisted constitution.”

“It’s survived for over a thousand years, and has only been rewritten in its entirety once,” I shrugged. “It could have had a lot more amendments than the 162 it does.”

“It’s still wonderfully arcane,” Mary commented. “You have a very interesting view of the separation of powers.”

We’re getting sidetracked, we could talk about the Accords till the cows come home. I had a different plan for this morning.

“I’d love to discuss that at length,” I said, “but actually, I came to you with an answer to your original question. Maybe not a final one, but I think it’s solid.”

“Oh!” Mary grinned, unceremoniously brushing off a mound of newspapers, which streamed onto the floor, and setting her elbows on the table. “So?”

“I can’t tell you if he’s the original inventor,” I said, “because nopony makes such a claim, but I have found the earliest sandwich recipe I believe exists, specified to excruciating detail. And it was penned by Star Swirl the Bearded… What?”

Even the newspaper she quickly erected between us could not conceal Mary’s giggling. Finally she broke down and laughed. “Damn it, Twilight, do you have any other pre-classical thinkers at all?”

“We do!” I huffed, offended. “I won’t deny he’s my favorite, but there’s Morari the Maneless, Haycartes, Marelin, Sow Crates, Aristrotle—”

“Sorry!” she interrupted me with a silly grin on her face. “It’s just that he’s the only wizard I knew by name before I had a chance to peruse your library. Quite a strange coincidence, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” I replied. “And I won’t deny that finding this doesn’t solve the actual problem either, because the sandwich is just an example. Which is why you get to help me dig deeper,” I stated, pointing a hoof at her.

“Where?” Mary inquired with a raised eyebrow, folding her newspaper away.

“I have found what I believe is his experiment journal,” I said. “It describes working with what he calls a ‘veister,’ in his lab in the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters.”

✶                ✶                ✶

“I can at least deny I am consciously aware of it, even if I am actually doing it, which would be silly,” Mary stated. “I wouldn’t even need my time machine if I knew I could do that sort of thing.”

Mary chose to keep her tracksuit, saying that she would hate to damage a dress in the forest, and packed very light. The only thing she took with her that I saw was the small black bag wrapped around her thigh, specially made for her laser weapon. Leather. The smell was faint, but still noticeable, and the reminder that this nice and civilized creature is actually carnivorous kept me slightly on edge.

I mentally slapped myself over the head with a newspaper. I’m the only one of my friends that squeamish about it. Even Applejack admits to eating fish on occasion… Must be that ancient griffon cookbook I saw yesterday.

“I don’t think Rika is right either,” I replied, “but she seemed so certain.”

“She usually is,” Mary replied, pushing a branch out of the way. “All the blue and orange. Doesn’t necessarily make her correct.”

“Blue and orange?” I asked, ducking under another branch and emerging back on the ancient, faded path. “What does that mean?”

“Blue and orange morality,” Mary replied. “Between me and you, our value systems, while different in important details, are still fundamentally compatible. We might argue about the degree, but in most cases, we will still consider the same things good and evil.”

“And she won’t?” I wondered.

“For Rika,” Mary replied, “the usual human values are closer to a distant memory. Something entirely different seems to have taken their place, and I couldn’t really tell you what. She can wipe out a city because someone hurt a child, and ignore the slaughter of millions as something normal, because, to quote, ‘it serves character development.’ Not something I’ve seen myself, mind you, but that’s what I heard.”

I shivered, and I wasn’t sure if that was because the morning, that deep into Everfree, was still chilly, or because of what Mary just said. “She certainly seems to care about you, at least,” I commented.

Mary stopped suddenly, and I had to stop and look back at her too. “Does she?” she asked.

“You call her a friend,” I declared. “And she calls you a friend. If you weren’t really friends, you wouldn’t have a friendship problem. Not this kind.”

“Really,” Mary replied blankly.

“I haven’t been saying anything, because I’m not sure how to help you yet,” I smiled sheepishly. “I’m just a student of friendship, I can’t presume to know all the answers. But I think I’m good enough to know there’s a problem, I just can’t put a hoof on it and help you solve it. But I will, eventually.”

“Let me try an analogy. A bad one, but just to put things in perspective…” Mary sighed deeply. And then she started talking, gradually accelerating. “Imagine that Princess Celestia suddenly decided that she isn’t your teacher, but your friend. And you’re not a magical prodigy, but a regular earth pony, with a special talent in, say, making clocks. She treats you as an equal. She vents to you about cosmic problems that trouble her, and you have great difficulty understanding what she’s talking about, let alone giving any worthy advice. And she does ask for your advice, she wants to know your opinion, and you’re constantly at a loss what to say. You’re simply so many weight classes below, that actually helping isn’t just a dream but utter nonsense, and you don’t even know why, time and time again, she keeps coming back to you, as if she’s expecting you to pull a rabbit out of a hat you don’t even wear.”

I just stood there, mouth agape, listening to this tirade, delivered almost entirely in a single breath. Finally, I asked, “You’ve been holding it in for a long time, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Mary answered with a sullen face.

“Does she know?” I inquired.

“Count on it,” Mary stated. “She has a huge attention span.”

“Maybe it’s not actually that bad, then?” I wondered. “Nopony is as comfortable being near her as you. I’ve seen you two together. I’ve heard what ponies say.”

“Maybe I am exaggerating a bit…” Mary sighed again. “But I have to, or you won’t understand. She’s not just another human. Had been at some point, isn’t anymore. No matter how much I might like or hate her, and at times, I myself can’t tell which it is, but Rika is essentially an imprint of a soul on the surface of an endless ocean of broken dreams and hopes, collected from a myriad worlds. She’s experiencing the universe in a fundamentally different way. I can’t even aspire to relate to that. Do you really think I should?”

She says that, and yet, I am sure that Mary, in her own strange way, cares for her friend too.

“Do you want to say you don’t?” I asked.

Mary stared at me blankly for a few seconds, before replying with a faint smile, “Touché.”

I smiled back at her. “Let’s not stop here. I only packed enough sandwiches for one day, I’m really not looking forward to grazing.” Or hunting. Ew.

“Indeed,” Mary replied, and we continued walking along the faded, barely recognizable trail.

It took her at least twenty minutes to say something again, and she started with, “Mind you, I think your aversion to the idea of being a character in a story is not entirely rational.”

“I don’t think it’s irrational not to want to believe that the world is entirely at the mercy of some author,” I replied. “That’s objectionable from so many standpoints that I could keep listing them all the way to the castle.”

“Perhaps,” Mary agreed, “but the issue of authorship is neither simple nor clear-cut. Consider the following hypothetical. Suppose someone, as part of a major art project, engineers two opposing groups of robots, locked in a war for the sake of their long absent creators.”

I shivered. “That sounds like an especially morbid one.” She mentioned her robot friend who lives in the Library. Is this hypothetical really not a hypothetical at all, like the one Moondancer gave me?

“I notice the lack of objections regarding plausibility,” Mary commented, throwing a glance at me out of the corner of her eye.

“I think I’m getting somewhat used to your world view,” I responded, dreading the admission. “Something must be wrong with me.”

“I wonder if I should get offended…” Mary smirked. “But regardless, this is not actually a conflict, but an art project. These robots are not quite people, but the value of the project is in that they’re close enough to pass for people if you squint. The emotions of their suffering and victory are real, or at least, engineered to be as realistic as possible.”

“This is actually even more morbid than I imagined to begin with,” I commented. Those poor robots!

“It gets more morbid,” Mary replied. “Some of the value of art is in potentially outliving its creator. One of the two groups eventually wins the war, at the cost of heroic sacrifice, a victory so devastating that it leaves no robot standing. Once this happens, the underlying, rigid and entirely unthinking machinery cleans up the rubble and builds new sets of robots from the original blueprints. The whole thing starts again. Robots being robots, and thus not particularly creative, it proceeds more or less to the same script. Repeating forever, while resources last.”

She was clearly about to continue, but I interrupted her. “So what’s the question posed by the hypothetical?” I asked. “This is… a horrifying scenario. I can’t, in good conscience, call that art. You wouldn’t do this even to animals, let alone ‘not quite people.’ Whoever does this isn’t an artist, it’s a monster.”

Looking at her as I said that, I saw traces of that faint smug smile. Damn it, I walked right into her punchline again, haven’t I? I knew I was heading straight for it and didn’t want to think about it, but the structural similarities are impossible to dismiss.

“But the Unlimited Library,” Mary began, confirming my suspicion, “at least theoretically, permits travel to any war story you might have read. I know you have those, and they’re about ponies, not robots. What exactly horrifies you about this, while a book remains art?”

I sighed and stopped, staring into the ground to hide my eyes. She confirmed my suspicions almost verbatim. “The idea has occurred to me already. Repeatedly! You want me to have nightmares about my Daring Do fanfics, I’m sure of it now,” I accused. “Every storybook should horrify me too, right? Was that the conclusion you were expecting? There is still an option that you’re wrong, is it so surprising that this is the option I’m picking?!”

I felt a soft touch of fingers tickling across my ear. “There is one fundamental difference that you’re missing, Twilight,” Mary said. I turned to look up at her, and instead just found her back disappearing behind a tree, so I had to give chase to hear the rest of her phrase. “Someone deliberately creates the hypothetical robot theater. Regardless of our opinion, at least the intentionality of the whole thing is not in question. But there is no proof that by writing a story of a world, a world is created. Indeed, such a proof can’t exist. Why do you even think this is how it works?”

“But there’s no question we write books!” I exclaimed. “We intentionally put our heroes through tough situations to see them come out victorious, don’t we? Wild, exciting situations, that have no place in reality! And unlike reality, fiction has to make sense!”

“Really?” Mary inquired. “Funny how Rapier says she’d love to live a life of crazy adventure like yours. Exactly like yours, that is. You’re her favorite pony, you know.”

Her superhero friend. The irony was thick in the air. I stammered, fishing for a comeback. “Writing is not just art, it’s a craft that can be taught!”

“So it is,” Mary agreed. “Now tell me, when you’re computing more and more digits of the number Pi, do you actually create new information, or discover a fundamental fact of reality?”

Even the most complicated post-classical spells do not actually require computing with more than ten digits after the decimal, but that never stopped me. And yet… “I don’t get to pick those digits,” I objected. “Ever. The analogy doesn’t work.”

“But being an irrational and presumably, normal number, it’s an infinitely long chain of evenly distributed digits,” Mary stated. “Encode every letter of your preferred alphabet with two digits. This way, Pi contains every conceivable text. Eventually. Somewhere.”

That’s… a rather novel idea. Do those digits exist before someone computes them? Do they exist the way things exist, or do they, like friendship, exist through something else? Do the terms even apply? Just like there are multiple distinct ways for things to not exist, there should be multiple ways for them to exist…

“So tell me now,” Mary continued. “How is the process of writing a text different from simply stumbling on that position in the infinity where it exists already?”

“How?” I prompted.

“That’s the problem, I don’t really know,” Mary replied.

“Damn it, Mary!” I stomped, cracking a loose branch under my hoof. She will make a career out of winding ponies up if we let her.

She grinned back at me. “The processes couldn’t be more dissimilar, but that shouldn’t matter when the end result is the same, should it?” she said. “Oh, and speaking of the end result. Do you have the journal of the sisters with you?”

I wordlessly extracted the unfortunate book out of my saddlebags and thrust it at her in my magic.

Mary stopped, and opened the journal, holding it up in her outstretched hand. “Well, at least I can’t fault the author’s research.”

The imprint on the page depicted a view of the façade of the castle, and now that I saw it, side by side with the real thing, the parts of the ruins still standing were a perfect match.

With all the talking, I hadn’t even noticed how we’d reached the goal of our trip.

Author's Note

Yes, as far as anyone can tell, Pi is indeed a normal number and should behave as Mary describes. There’s still no proof, but the fun thing is, it doesn’t have to be Pi. Any number proven to be irrational and normal will do.

Conversation 46.3: Twilight Sparkle

“Is there any other place to cross?” Mary asked, stopping in front of the rope bridge over the ravine.

“Oh come on, it’s perfectly stable,” I insisted.

“Stable for you,” she stated, placing one foot on the first board of the bridge and gingerly testing it. “My center of mass is a lot higher, and I can’t even grab the rope for support.”

“Can’t you… I don’t know, make it lower?” I suggested, rearing up, which brought me eye to eye with her. “I’m not athletic at all, either, but I can walk on two legs if I absolutely have to.” I might have wobbled a bit there, but my point was made.

Mary looked at her hands. Then at the bridge planks, weathered and covered by a thin, old layer of dirt. Then at her hands again.

At this rate, we’re going to be stuck here until it’s time to go home. “You could just say you’re afraid of heights!” I exclaimed, grabbing her in my magic and lifting her up, which resulted in a muffled squeak.

“I’m not afraid of heights!” Mary protested, keeping very still in my grip, as I trotted across the bridge. “I’m just very concerned about wooden bridges!”

Funny, she’s only a tiny bit heavier than Spike. She really does resemble a withered and stunted Everfree willow, especially in that tracksuit, with all the folds making her look like she’s covered in bark. “I’ve been here less than a month ago, it held up fine,” I stated, setting her down gently on the other side. “See? Nothing to worry about.”

“Has it occurred to you to wonder why?” Mary inquired, folding her arms on the chest with a displeased grimace on her face.

I opened my mouth to answer, and stopped mid-breath. No, it has not occurred to me. It should have.

All the nature preserves and wild forests in Equestria at least get managed weather, but Everfree is neither. It is the territory of the Kingdom of Equestria, which, ironically, is not itself part of the United Kingdoms of Equestria. Land owned directly by Celestia – and Cadance, and Luna, now that she’s back. The kingdom of alicorns, in which every citizen is a princess, an antique legal fiction. The crown of the United Kingdoms does not claim this forest, and neither do the Weather Bureau nor the Royal Mail. The Royal Guard occasionally sends a pegasus patrol through to keep an eye on the local megafauna, because they’re the only ones who have jurisdiction here, but that’s all. None of the trappings of civilization apply.

There are huge pockets and eddies of wild magic here, and in summer, it blossoms like a jungle, with feral storms and rain directly beneath the canopy. These boards should have rotted through in a few decades in this excuse for a climate, like most of the castle furniture. But if Celestia and Luna were up to casting a preservation enchantment on a rope bridge, why didn’t they build a stone one to start with? Doesn’t the residence of the Royal Pony Sisters deserve a proper bridge? How would you even build a castle here if you had to transport all the stone by air?…

While I was thinking that, Mary crouched before the pillars that held the bridge up and was now inspecting the frayed end of the rope that Rainbow had to retie when we first visited the place. “You got a match?” she asked. “Or a fire spell? Something neat and easy to control.”

“Do you want me to literally burn our bridges?” I tried for a joke. “I don’t think the moment is appropriate for that sort of thing.”

“No, amusing as the idea is, I just want you to light the end of the rope and immediately put it out,” Mary replied, with no hint of humor in her voice.

I wasn’t sure why she wanted this, but seeing the results would be quicker than listening for an explanation. With a trivial spell, the end of the rope lit up, letting off a thin trail of smoke with a sputtering, bubbling sound, and I immediately cooled it down below the flash point.

“Nylon,” Mary declared, looking at the melted bead on the end of the rope. “Parachute cord, even.”

That was unexpected. Parachutes were an idea as old as cloud homes. Nylon was not.

“We already knew someone had been here between the time the castle was abandoned and the time I found the journal,” I commented. “I’m not sure what this gets us.”

“Not much,” Mary replied, straightening out and looking at me with a thoughtful expression. “But if you just needed to cross once, would you build a bridge?”

“I would just teleport,” I admitted. “Any creature with wings would use them. Applejack would make a zip-line…”

“So someone didn’t just visit the castle once to place a journal in a secret room,” Mary nodded. “They’ve been in and out multiple times, and it happened before last summer, but not long enough ago for the bridge to fall apart.”

“I think you’re making unfounded assumptions,” I said. “There’s no reason to believe whoever built the bridge and whoever wrote the journal are the same pony.” Even if it is tempting, that would be too simple.

“The castle has not been looted down to the last scrap of carpet, even though it contains numerous valuables,” Mary commented, walking towards the stairs leading up to the large double doors. “Very few people ever came here. I would say it’s more likely that the author of the journal is our only culprit.”

“But we’re not actually looking for the author,” I objected, trailing after her. “At least, not specifically, we have no good leads on that. Star Swirl’s laboratory is a lot more promising. From what I have been able to make out, this ‘veister’ object has characteristics consistent with fast thaum emissions.”

Mary chuckled. “One day you’ll have to actually explain what those are,” she said, walking up the steps with no sign of apprehension or awe. It’s almost like she’s trotting down the street in Ponyville, instead of exploring an ancient ruin. Where’s her sense of wonder?!

“Well, for a very, very condensed explanation,” I started, stepping into the door she opened for me, “most of the magic in the world comes from the Moon, in the form of highly energetic thaums that have frequencies far outside the range where they interact with matter. They get frequency shifted in the gravity field, so near the sea level they start slowing down, get deflected, and form natural currents. That allows them to be trapped in minerals, and eventually they make their way to the surface, where they participate in the magical metabolism of living creatures.”

“So whatever emits them here has to be powerful, and probably not artificial,” Mary guessed. “Which would be a good fit for our hypothetical natural magical object producing a continent-wide mind-affective spell effect… What is it, a chunk of the Moon?”

“The source of the emissions is not moonstone, it’s the Moon’s spinning core,” I corrected her. “A window to the Moon, I think. ‘Veister.’ Which probably wouldn’t be natural, but I’ll tell you for sure when I see it.”

“It’s a strange word,” Mary commented. “Almost sounds familiar, and yet I can’t place it.”

“Most of Star Swirl’s surviving notebooks are in Old Ponish, an earth pony language, and that’s where the word is from,” I explained. “Allegedly, he used it because he was jealous of every other unicorn wizard. But I’m sure it was because the printing press is an earth pony invention, it was simply easier to get a book printed this way. It shows forward thinking!”

Mary snickered and calmly stepped over a pressure plate even before I remembered to warn her about it. Longer legs appeared to offer some unexpected advantages in this place. “Sure it does.”

I stuck my tongue out at her, and got a smile back.

“So what’s the plan? What exactly do you know of this laboratory?” she asked.

“I just know it’s here,” I admitted. “Star Swirl’s hornwriting was famously atrocious, I barely deciphered that much.” In fact, I was mostly studying the diagrams and sketches, which were far more legible.

“So how are we going to find it, then?” Mary wondered, stopping next to a winding staircase. “It’s not like we can measure the thickness of every wall, and I foolishly decided that asking Rika for a ground penetrating radar would be too much.”

The idea that a non-magical means to solve this problem might be available is definitely something to keep in mind, but I’m sure that this time, we can do without. “I figured your special talent for picking books is probably just as applicable to searching for secret doors,” I grinned. She definitely has no thaumometabolic pathways at all, even around the golden eye, but some of the things she did in the Crystal Empire would need a full-blown pattern selector matrix to explain.

“Really now,” Mary scowled. “First Moondancer, now you.”

“I don’t understand how it works, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t useful,” I said. “Most pony special talents are notoriously difficult to thaumomechanically deconstruct, that’s not unusual.”

“Well, all right,” Mary said, rolling her blue eye. This didn’t have the effect she probably intended, as the creepy golden one remained staring straight at me. What a strange deformity. “I’ll use my ‘special talent’ and try to poke my nose into every crack I find,” she said, making the air quotes with her fingers – a gesture that looked quite silly on a human – “but if I end up opening the wrong door, it’s on you.”

“I doubt they have left anything particularly dangerous in this castle,” I said.

“They did leave the Elements,” Mary stated, raising a finger.

I found nothing to contradict that, but surely, that was the limit. How many powerful relics could they even have?

She sighed and looked at the staircase, hesitating. “Couldn’t you detect those fast thaum emissions?”

“I would need a lab,” I replied. “Ironically, exactly like the lab we’re looking for, but a thousand years more modern.” Pre-classical equipment would mostly involve enchanted lenses and crystal balls, and today, we would use a waveguide thaumometer, but while these devices could not be any more different, they still measure the same things.

Mary sighed, and started a wary ascent up the staircase, gingerly testing every step before putting her weight on it.

We continued wandering for some time, guided only by her inscrutable intuition. Mary was cautious and thorough, and managed to only trigger three traps along the way, avoiding getting hit by the results each and every time. She even prevented me from stepping into one, a sharp contrast to my earlier experience in the castle. It looked like we wouldn’t even need the jar of bruise ointment I packed, which I took as a good sign.

Eventually, the edges of the rotting carpet on the floor, decorated with a familiar pattern of musical notes, clued me in where she was going. Almost too late, as we came up on the immense organ, occupying pride of place in the gloomy hall.

“You’d think something would have eaten the candles in a thousand years,” Mary commented, stopping in front of the stairs leading to the pedestal the organ rested upon.

I took the hint and lit the candelabras to either side of the organ, bringing some warmth into the room. Unfortunately, this didn’t make it much less creepy – instead of simply mysterious, now it looked incongruous, like a blotch of sauce left on the cover of a book. “Do you think it’s here somewhere?” I asked.

“I think it opens here,” Mary replied, climbing up the stairs. “The journal says the organ controls all the trapdoors. Does it still work?”

“Still makes sounds, if that counts,” I replied.

“Where’s the source of wind, then?” Mary wondered, peeking behind the organ.

“There’s a water wheel down in the ravine,” I said. “I think it’s driving a bellows.”

“Which certifies that the ravine had been here when the castle was built,” Mary commented. “But that’s beside the point.”

“Can you play an organ?” I inquired. I knew she could play a piano, but they’re substantially different instruments.

Mary unceremoniously dropped onto the bench before the organ and cracked the joints of her hands with a loud pop. “Well, I never had a chance to play an actual organ before, but I do have some experience with a harpsichord…”

Just as her fingers touched the keys, even before she started playing, I heard the wind howling through the corridors behind us, a strange, eerie and wispy sound. And when she pressed the first key, the slow and quiet melody of the wind was effortlessly joined, in a much higher key than I believed this organ could possibly produce, flooding the hall. I was reminded of the time we all went out to watch the meteor shower together, that haunting impression of the great, unending sky, drawing me in… I didn’t even notice how I climbed the stairs to look over her shoulder at the fingers softly dancing across the keys.

“Just on the border of your waking mind,” Mary intoned, in a voice ringing and distorted, as if not her own, “there lies another time...”

She abruptly interrupted herself and stared at her shaking hand. “This place is getting to me,” she stated.

“Why did you stop?!” I exclaimed in the sudden silence. I’m sure it was a heartsong! Holding a heartsong in is very bad for you!

“Twilight?” she whispered in a wavering voice. “Please shut up for a moment.”

And I shut up.

It took Mary at least a minute to collect herself. “Let’s try this again,” she declared, and hammered out a short sequence of sharp, loud notes, without any regard for the welfare of the instrument, quick like a tumble off a staircase interrupted by two long, pained yelps.

She made a short pause, and was about to continue, but suddenly, the archway to the right of the organ responded with a deep, loud scraping rumble of moving stone. “Not very secret for a secret lab,” Mary commented.

“Wait, w-what did you just do?!” I stammered out. “How did you know?”

Mary looked at me curiously. “So you don’t recognize the melody?”

“Pretty sure I’ve never heard it,” I admitted. I didn’t even think it was particularly distinctive.

“Funny, it’s only the most famous organ composition ever,” Mary said. “Literally the first thing anyone would want to play on an organ. Toccata and Fugue in D minor, Bach-Werke-Verzeichnis 565. I expected this one would be known in your world, I know at least some classic melodies match.”

That’s not the first thing she did play. The first one had some deeper meaning for her.

“I’m not familiar with griffon music,” I admitted. The title, at least, sounded like Griffish, which Equestrian griffons haven’t spoken for centuries.

“Griffon music, right,” Mary snorted.

“What?” I protested.

“Never mind,” Mary grinned, standing up from the bench. “Let’s go check it out?”

Only then I remembered that she actually did find a secret door, and raced down the steps to be the first to enter the secret laboratory. Mary trailed behind me, still talking. “It really was just a lucky guess. You’re calling it a special talent, but it’s mostly about looking for things that I and this bloody thing have fundamentally incompatible opinions about. For example, things that the golden eye does not notice…”

But I wasn’t listening, I was busy leaping into the dark, fully enclosed room that just opened, lighting the way with my horn. A lab that Star Swirl the Bearded himself had used, a magical relic that he studied and experimented with, and maybe even more notes and books!

And just as abruptly as I entered, I stopped, digging my hooves into the layer of dust on the bare stone floor.

Funny, I could never imagine Star Swirl using an electrothaumograph. I was always wondering what would he say when presented with the post-classical theories that went into designing measuring devices so much more precise than anything he had access to. Theories that are so radically unlike the way he imagined magic worked.

Devices like this one. A steam powered model for field work, with an oscilloscope tube and rolling paper tape.

“Looks like somebody found the place first,” Mary commented somewhere behind me. A cone of bright white light joined my light spell, and glancing back at her, I noticed a tiny flashlight in her hand.

“Recently,” I confirmed with a sinking heart. “This… Most of it is the kind of equipment I used back in school! Just older models! Electrothaumograph, mechanical calculator, arc transformer, crystal battery…” Also, a huge mess of oscillators and alchemical polarizers assembled into some kind of contraption. I couldn’t even begin to understand what was it supposed to do, beyond directing energy, but the parts were just as modern as everything else.

“Nothing that looks like that ‘veister’, I take it,” Mary stated.

“No…” I mumbled, slowly sinking down to the dusty floor. The center of the room, the place where I expected to find the huge sheet of crystalline material of unknown origin that Star Swirl was working with, was empty. I covered my eyes with my hooves, trying to hold back the tears. It’s almost like Daring Do finally getting through an ancient temple only to see Doctor Caballeron already there, stuffing the relic she was after into a bag.

Worse. To find the relic missing, and the consolation prize isn’t even a trap, just a sarcastic note from Caballeron, who had come and gone long before Daring Do has ever heard about the thing.

I could only hear Mary’s footsteps as she slowly walked across the room. A grinding sound of gears, as she cranked the calculator. A bump, as she tried to lift the crystal battery and failed. And then she spoke.

“We have a message from another time, Twilight,” Mary announced.

I rubbed the wetness out of my eyes and looked at her. She was standing in the middle of the room, shining her flashlight at a piece of paper on the floor, next to a rectangular patch of thinner dust.

I got up and trotted over to look. On the dusty piece of paper, in black ink, which ran, as if somepony sprinkled a few droplets of water on it, there were only four words in neat, very legible, almost calligraphic hornwriting:

Don’t look for me.

Author's Note

And that’s the last of this three-parter.

Conversation -70 ~ There's Only One Thing That I Can Do

Binoculars, a folding chair in the snow, and a roof. My observation post, as good as can be expected under the circumstances, I suppose.

It’s not that I’ve never seen this tower before. I saw it back when it was just a stump of concrete in a dirty field. I saw it at the height of its glory when it was a world-famous marvel of engineering. I saw it burning one sunny August. I saw the city from the observation platform and from a table in the restaurant just above it. Every time I visited, the golden eye saw it differently, and today, what it sees is an ominous, creepy syringe, with a small dance party of demons on top of the needle. No, I’m not about to count them. Knowing the eye, the number might turn out to be imaginary. These usually cause a headache.

Today, I came to see it fall, and as I watched the battle on the lawn before the tower get started, I heard a familiar voice behind my back.

“You don’t have to be so graphic when calling me. I would probably be here anyway, it’s your story, after all,” Rika whispered. It’s strange how I didn’t feel her breathing on my neck. Probably because she forgets to breathe so often…

I made a mental note to go back and actually figure out some way to attract her attention to correct for the paradox, and looked away from my binoculars to respond, “I just had something important to tell you, and it needs to be today.”

She smiled back. “That’s silly. You could have a thousand New Years in a row if you wanted. What makes this one special?”

I handed her the binoculars. “Look. I said before, that this is the time and place I picked, remember? But this, this is why I picked it. You see… It’s an immature nation. It’s like a child. Never really got the chance to grow up, stuck like that for hundreds of years. Vindictive, prideful, egotistic, paranoid… But precisely because it’s so much like a child, it craves a miracle, a miracle that brings meaning to the senseless world. A miracle like you. Today is the day miracles happen. I’m sorry it’s not your birthday, but for these people your birthday doesn’t mean anything. Today does. Tonight, here and now.”

“So what do you expect me to do?” she thrust the binoculars back at me with a menacing grin. I know that grin. I wonder, did anyone tell you how scary that grin looks in the dark, when your hair is glowing like that?

But that’s not the way it’s supposed to go.

“I don’t expect you to do anything. They do,” I said, pointing a finger out towards where the Elusive Avengers were tearing up the scenery on the lawn before the tower, fighting police and the Patriot. Patriot would not be much of a threat, since his suit barely had the battery life for five minutes of operation, but police guns were another story. “I told them, that today, if they do their best, if they have hope, they win the battle that avenges all their suffering and change the world forever. I’m just an extreme historian, I don’t have the right to ask. They live here.”

“You’re a writer. And I’m your Deus ex Machina,” she replied. Her voice was blank, and the expression was blank too, but the golden eye was simply blinded. Thank ye gods and little fishes for small mercies, because I shudder to think what it would have shown me if it wasn’t.

Let’s just hope she’s familiar with the concept.

“No. You’re my eucatastrophe.”

She suddenly laughed. A long, slow laugh that starts as a giggle and ends as a villainous laughter, synchronous with the shaking of my knees. When she was finally done, which felt much longer than it had any right to, she asked, “So what is ‘their’ wish?”

You could almost hear the quotes.

“To stop the lies and make way for the truth,” I said. I can’t tell her to knock the tower down, she has to guess. I would hate it if this costs me this fragile friendship, but I have a hunch that it won’t. I’m actually more interesting to her this way.

She smiled again. “Wish granted. But when this storyline is over, you go with me on an adventure.”

So that was all it took? I smiled right back. “Deal.”

“Reconfigure for 最終兵器!”

“STAND BY. READY.”

That suitcase still unnerves me. The way it jumps into her outstretched hand out of nowhere, the way it glitters blue as it transforms into something else.

“Set up!”

And on feathery wings of steel, she rose into the air, as snowflakes drifted down.

It didn’t take her longer than five seconds. I don’t know how many watts she pumped into that laser beam, but probably not that much, because it didn’t actually slice the tower apart completely. Ripping up most of the steel trusses with a diagonal cut was enough.

The air filled with the low rumble of concrete sliding against concrete and cracking apart, while the chime of my pocket watch marked the end of an old year and the beginning of a new one.

There was also no end of screaming, but that’s what makes it a catastrophe.

The eu- part is about how it’s actually for the best.

Author's Note

No, I’m not really back to writing this. Looking at the situation, I might never have the opportunity to return to writing at all, so I have to say sorry to my readers, if you still care to know how this ends, – why would you? – you will have to wait a while longer. See my blog for details.

Conversation 1: Mary

The Unlimited Library is a marvelous, magical place, which I very much don’t recommend visiting, unless you’re into soul crushing existential dread. Kind of like Tahiti in that regard. It’s not entirely apparent at first, just books everywhere you can see, for miles and miles, an Archimedean screw of a floor that seems to extend upwards and downwards into infinity. The dread only sets in when you are told that it contains, by definition, every story ever thought of. It’s not that somebody actually collects them here, no, that’s just how it works. While the realization of my own mortality has faded enough to be banal by now, it cannot possibly compare to the realization of my own insignificance in the grand scheme of things, let alone the absence of any such scheme, and this is exactly what seeing “about five quintillion” worth of stories does to you.

It is further compounded by the realization of humanity’s insignificance – all its worlds combined, and all the starfish aliens thrown in for good measure – when it becomes apparent that five quintillion really is not the infinity you actually expected. Not to mention that this cylindrical structure is only approximately as tall as the distance between Earth and the Moon, and doesn’t rate much even if you compare it to the size of the solar system as a whole.

All that before you realize that the place is actually much less real, than the stories it contains. Some parts of it are more abstract than set theory, and the spot at the top where it grows is more like group theory than anything else.

In short, whenever I visit the place, I shiver every time I look up – or down, for that matter – and no amount of tea helps, not that anyone here beside me knows the first thing about tea. Oh, most of the locals drink it, to be sure, but for reasons entirely unrelated to tea itself.

“Mary, are you planning to get lost? Searching for you is not the kind of adventure I had in mind. Get in here,” Rika beckoned me from somewhere between the labyrinthine shelves.

My …friend, the eldritch abomination. When she stepped into my life one day – out of a wall, no less – I thought I finally went insane. Which seemed more than likely back then. But every time she looks at me with those perpetually curious deep green eyes of hers, and opens her mouth to nonchalantly utter yet another world shattering revelation, I wonder whether it’s the universe that’s insane instead. The premature grey hairs I get from knowing her don’t stand out too much only because I’m a natural blond.

She scares me even more than the Library, but you have probably guessed as much.

“So, what exactly did you have in mind, anyway?” I asked. If it weren’t for the faint glow of her long, wispy, fire truck red hair, illuminating the vicinity, I wouldn’t be able to find her in this dark corner, because the mourning black dress she habitually wears is almost impossible to pick out in the darkness the moment she steps away from the railing. I still have no idea why she is so fixated on this color scheme when she could look like absolutely anything. What a walking cliché…

Actually, I’m not much better when it comes to being a cliché, so I probably shouldn’t complain.

“Take a look,” Rika grinned back at me. “I’ve collected most of the phase space for this tree,” she added, running her gloved hand across the bookends. The titles, liberally mentioning ponies and sprinkled with horse-related puns failed to inspire me. In theory, I’m supposed to have been born in the day and age when every little girl dreamed of riding a pony, and quite a lot of them did. In practice, that’s not the day and age I remember at all.

The prodigious quantity was even less appealing. I wondered, just how did she manage to haul in what looks like a million books from all over the Library – I know by now, that different branches of the same tree do not get shelved next to each other naturally, you have to search for them, and so far, nobody deduced the pattern they appear in. She had to have sifted through at least a trillion books to do this. Then I remembered that this way lies madness and tried to concentrate on something less brain-melting. “I like ponies…” I said uncertainly, “but I’m sure I couldn’t eat a whole one.”

She snickered, “Aw come on, it will be fun. The biggest tree I know with a primarily non-humanoid population. Pastel-colored ponies with big eyes, just about everyone is nice, magic, apple pie, friendship. Like Flonyard, but much more variety and no emphasis on underwear. Pick one.”

Oh, I know a few things about ponies. It’s certainly not my field, but back home – I’ve spent so much effort trying to create that timeline, I’ve actually succeeded, so I’m going to call it my home and won’t let anyone tell you different – I’ve met quite a few people who wouldn’t shut up whenever ponies were mentioned, and you can’t deny cultural osmosis. Especially if you’re trying to get used to another culture, which was what I was doing at the time. What I don’t get is what Rika expects to do there, which makes me suspect that this whole “I make your miracle, you go on an adventure with me” deal has far more layers to it than I was counting on.

But none of the titles stood out. At least, not to my normal eye. The right eye, the golden parasite, had its own opinion, as always – it marked one of the books as shimmering, as if it were highlighted by a cursor. Whatever. “This one,” I said, reaching for the book and handing it to Rika.

She opened it up and skimmed it through in under a second, like a dealer shuffling a deck – br-r-r-r-t. “Yes, this one should be fun,” she said, handing it back to me with yet another grin, which did little, if anything, to dissolve my worries.

Speaking of worries. “I hope it won’t turn me into a pony,” I said, poking her with a finger for punctuation.

“You’d make a cute one!” Rika smiled right back. “But no, not unless you want it to.”

“…Okay, here goes nothing,” I said, opening the book at random somewhere in the middle and started reading: “Once upon a time…”

✶                ✶                ✶

Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria, two human, or at least, human-looking girls were walking along the streets of the town called Ponyville, weaving their way through the twisty maze of wide streets and little back alleys, all alike, while leisurely maintaining a conversation.

“They don’t seem to be too happy to see us,” I noticed, looking at the colorful ponies peeking at us from the windows and quietly, but very deliberately clearing the street in our path – without any obvious panic, but definitely not ignoring us altogether. This looked particularly amusing whenever we came to a crossroads, because they would all stare and wait until Rika would pick where to turn.

Now that I had a chance to see ponies when they weren’t rendered in vector artwork, the first thing to notice was that their proportions weren’t quite as profoundly exaggerated as I remembered. At least, the eyes left much more space for a brain inside their heads than the drawings would suggest. The second was the nearly universal appearance of saddlebags, ridicules, shoulder baggies, purses, pouches, neck-mounted portmanteaus of the style so popular with hippies in the 80s, and just about every other style of wearable container I could imagine being applicable to pony shape, as well as some I never expected to see, like purses mounted on hair clips and ribbons. Distance not to scale. Damn, this story has a serious case of Aragorn’s pants…

“I imagine the reaction in Manehattan would be different. Most of the unannounced non-pony visitors to this town are giant monsters from Everfree,” Rika commented, smiling and waving at a passing earth pony filly with a dark coat and glasses. This had the result opposite to intended, judging by the filly letting out a muffled shriek and darting behind a house. Rika just turned to me with an annoyed scowl on her face.

“You fit that description perfectly!” I snickered.

“I’m not giant!” she protested.

“Could have fooled me,” I said, looking up. She’s at least a head taller than I am. Granted, I’m actually quite short, but the tips of pony ears appear to reach no higher than my chest. “Certainly fooled …er …what’s the word… Everypony, right.”

“Oh never mind…” she sighed. “This is actually one of the quirks of this tree. High mainline decoherence, branch variability off the charts. There’s at least a 15% chance a unicorn named Lyra Heartstrings will come by asking about hands, regardless of anything else. A 30% chance human visitors are treated as a threat, which usually doesn’t last very long, 40% chance they’re treated as guests right off the bat. In 3% of the branches they’re an object of intense interest due to technology contamination, and the rest is all over the place.”

“Don’t most of them turn into ponies on entry, though?” I wondered.

“About 60%, but that doesn’t correlate very well even with Lyra. If she hears the visitor had hands, she might come by asking about them anyway,” Rika said. How exactly does she collect all these little factoids is beyond me. Did she really survey the entire tree? Time in the Library is very broken, but I can’t really imagine her spending two weeks to read a million books back to back just to drag me somewhere. “And there’s no apparent correlation between transformation and whether Newtonian physics actually works on large scales or not, that’s still a toss-up,” she added.

That got me to raise an eyebrow. “Works or not?!”

Rika grinned smugly. “Well, the root of this tree is a myth.”

“A cartoon for little girls, you mean,” I said uncertainly.

“They aren’t mutually exclusive,” she replied, pointing upwards, “This here is the sun. And it could be a star, a painting on a celestial sphere, an artificial bubble of magic, any combination of the three, or something else entirely. One branch had an ancient spaceship towing the planet somewhere. Even the ponies don’t necessarily know. I’ve read the entire book and I still don’t know. You have already branched it off, so whatever you discover, will have been the truth forever.” Her eyes were positively sparkling. “That’s what makes this tree so special!”

A nagging realization rose up in the back of my head and knocked on the walls of my skull. Whatever you discover. Which implies that she’s planning to stay on the sidelines and watch me suffer, while I muddle about like an elephant in a school’s science supplies closet. “This is an experiment, right?”

“Guilty as charged,” Rika said, “I want to see what you can do from inside, this time. Don’t tell me this won’t be an adventure.”

I bit my lip in apprehension, but Rika continued, “You can go home at any moment, you know. I won’t keep you. But I will admit that without you I’ll be bored. Even in the worst of times, I would find less to do here than anywhere else.”

I just sighed. I could go home. I would have to pester Dorothy or Pandora to help me find the right page, but I could leave… at the cost of even more awkward, like having to explain what happened. “You’re impossible.”

“I am,” she agreed immediately. “Sorry about dragging you into this, I didn’t expect you’d hate it so much.”

“I don’t hate it,” I protested. She isn’t that sorry, anyway. “It’s just… well, can’t you be slightly clearer about what you really want? Preferably in advance? So that I could do some research?… Oh never mind… Give me the short version.”

She looked at me, puzzled. “Of what?”

“Of the events so far, you duffer! I didn’t see anything beyond the cover,” I exclaimed, waving a hand in the direction of further ponies hiding in the nearby bushes. “We’re in Ponyville, ok. When? How?”

“Oh. That,” Rika said. “The mainline divergence is somewhere between the first meeting with Trixie – you remember Trixie, right? – and the moment she comes back with her revenge amulet, but it wasn’t clearly marked. The amulet gets superseded by Trixie getting drafted to be Luna’s personal dream student, which boosts the rivalry to epic proportions and culminates with fighting Discord a second time for no adequately explained reason. You somehow managed to backtrack to well before the beginning of the core narrative, so it’s a week or two until the royal wedding right now. You might not have noticed, but it actually took me some time to find you.”

I smiled. “Well, I did say ‘Once upon a time’. That wasn’t what was written on the page I opened.”

“Tsk, tsk,” she said, “What am I to do with you?”

I was about to launch into a long tirade, but since we were already right next to the door to the Golden Oak Library, decided against it. “If you’re treating it as a long-term expedition, I need a base. And financing.”

Rika glanced at me suspiciously. “How do you usually do that without me, anyway?”

“Shorting and compound interest,” I replied tersely. “Also, I will need these books… from a sane place, please,” I said, pulling out my tiny notebook and jotting down a few titles.

Rika laughed as she read the note I gave her. “Want a Wikipedia dump to go with that?” she said, waving the note in the air. “What are you really planning to do, start a book club?”

“Don’t be silly. A book is the best gift,” I said didactically. That this is a tired old propaganda slogan does not make it any less appropriate for my current situation.

She grinned at me. “Later. Right now, I need to go give my regards to the princesses.” In the next moment, Rika vanished in a silent white flash, eliciting muffled whispers from the ponies hiding behind the nearby houses.

“And leave me to pick up the mess, why don’t you…” I mumbled, pausing to determine a course of action and spinning around, looking at the “hidden” ponies, whose eyes seemed less anxious and more curious by the minute. What, exactly, would I do, given the chance to influence a world in which even the laws of physics are, from my perspective, undefined? Towards what end would I twist it? Do I even want to twist it? It seems perfectly fine as it is, amazing as it sounds. But is it? To begin with, what do I actually know about it?

Looking up, I spied an almost familiar shape of a wisteria unicorn – lavender is such a tired word and covers too many shades, and this one is the closest – on the library’s balcony. The golden eye even decided it was an appropriate time to show a title card. Yes, whenever it sees someone important for the first time, I get a title card, introducing them in a language I can’t even reproduce on paper, much less understand. Takes the fun out of interacting with large numbers of new people very quickly.

Well, the first step towards knowledge is asking the librarian, and this fulcrum is so blindingly obvious, that even Rika has to have noticed it. Otherwise, why would she lead me straight to her doorstep before running off. “Miss Twilight Sparkle,” I shouted, “if I might be permitted to infringe upon your time…”

It wasn’t long before the wisteria head with midnight blue mane peeked over the railing to gaze at me. And before she had time to open her mouth, I continued, as inspiration struck me. “Can you tell me, who invented the sandwich?”

And then immediately regretted it. Couldn’t I think of something actually neutral to ask about?

Regardless, the expression of extreme bewilderment on the face peeking above the railing – or is it supposed to be called a muzzle, anyway? I’ll go with a face – was absolutely priceless.

“May I come in?” I added.

The only response was a vigorous, repeating, high frequency nod.

Letter 1: Twilight Sparkle

Dear Princess Celestia.

I thought of writing a detailed report on how this day went, and everything I learned, and I will certainly be doing so, but I feel this would not convey what really happened very well. It would also take me more time than I actually have today, because I’m insisting on sending Spike to bed right after he sends this letter, it’s way too late already. I have no end of things to tell you about and show you, but while they are all exciting, they are not what’s truly important.

Not everything I learn about friendship are lessons. Some things are merely questions I don’t have an answer for. I have it in the most direct firsthoof experience possible, that friendship is a powerful force, and is therefore as real as anything. And yet, the moment you stop believing in it, it can disappear, and that, too, is something I have experienced, and it was only your timely intervention that saved me that day. Real things don’t do that.

I have no solution to this contradiction, other than to call into question what I thought to be axioms – what does it really mean to be real? A question I would have previously considered perfectly nonsensical, or at least, stupid, turns out to be one of the most complicated questions I have encountered.

Hoping for your invaluable advice,

Your most faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle.

Conversation 36: Moondancer

Oh, I’ve taken my share of licks
I’ve made it through the thin and thick
But no I wasn’t
— Oh no, she wasn’t
Oh no, I wasn’t
— Oh no, she wasn’t
No I was not
Prepared… for this!

And just as their song was over, so was our walk, since we were standing next to the library building. Now that the black crystal was gone and the city returned to its original, eye-watering gloss, it was not as hard to find as I expected.

“So why exactly does a library have griffon statues for decoration?” Mary inquired.

“Because they’re cool and fierce and almost foreign,” Lyra replied, throwing the doors open with a pulse of her magic. “Knowledge needs symbolic protectors, it’s in the rules.”

We entered.

“Oh wow,” Twilight breathed out as she threw a glance across the endless shelves going both up into the floors above and deep into the ground. “I hope Trixie isn’t coming to challenge me for access to this one.”

Wow indeed!

Twilight got a a lot more harmonic since last summer. A heartsong at the wedding, the song she just finished singing with Spike… This has to be the influence of the Elements.

I never thought I would ever see the Elements activated with my own eyes.

I never expected to work alongside an alicorn princess, either.

Or to see her cry.

The stadium was packed full of trembling ponies. Some were in chains. Most were just in some kind of stupor, when we tried to talk to them, they barely even reacted. Others were weeping. I have never seen so much misery in one place at the same time, I could never imagine it were possible to pack so much so densely. Sombra clearly was one to break records of all kinds, including the record on the scale of mass industrialized oppression.

But at least they were all alive. I’m still wondering about that pile of crystal shards off to the side, because it had some suspiciously pony-shaped pieces in it, but I think I’ll leave that wondering to somepony with more intestinal fortitude.

All the ponies I saw were alive.

Most of those who weren’t drafted into the army weren’t even hurt, save for minor wounds, exhaustion, malnutrition, and general neglect, but I shudder to think what’s going on in their heads.

Months of regularly renewed mental domination spells, amnesia spells, some kind of forced labor that was back-breaking even for earth ponies. Constant, unrelenting terror for anypony who managed to resist…

Legend says, the first targeted amnesia spell was devised by Clover the Clever to suppress all those annoying memories of doing something embarrassing by mistake. The kind that make you feel you’re a terrible pony every time you remember a stupid mistake you apologized for already and nopony cared about in the first place. But for Sombra, this was the cornerstone of his power. Mental domination spells can be fought, they need to be renewed. But precede them with a spell that suppresses the memories of everything the victim holds dear, and the motivation to resist vanishes altogether.

But suppressed memories aren’t just gone. The mind registers them as missing…

What finally broke Cadance was a desperate mare, who could remember neither the name, the age, the colors, nor the cutie mark of the daughter that she was searching for, growing progressively more hysterical despite our efforts. Eventually Cadance had to cast a spell to calm her down. I tried to stay detached and just do what was needed, but for the alicorn princess of love it was not an option.

Sorting out the stadium took most of the day. Few of the crystal ponies could remember as much as their own names, but Pinkie Pie, with her omnipresent cupcakes, managed to thaw most of them far enough to at least figure out where they live. I never thought I would ever appreciate this pink menace exists, but I had to grudgingly admit that there’s a right time and place for everything, including Pinkie Pie. Our train was packed full of warm blankets, cocoa powder, sweets, army rations and medical kits precisely because this was a situation somepony expected to deal with. Midway through the day, another train came, and more Royal Guard came with it, bearing more and more boxes.

We helped out with what we could, but eventually, Shining Armor pulled us five aside, and told us to figure out a safe way to rehabilitate everypony without trying to unravel the spells lingering on them one by one. We were looking at several lifetimes worth of work otherwise, and I wasn’t feeling confident I could contribute without scrambling at least a few brains in the process.

Twilight took to the mission with enthusiasm, and so, there we were.

“So what are we looking for?” I asked the alien. I am sure we could camp in this library for nearly forever, but we have a job to do.

“I’d start with a card catalog,” she replied.

She told us earlier, that she knew exactly what we need, and it involved the Crystal Heart and some kind of celebration called the Crystal Faire. I’m still wondering just how she came by this information, because Twilight’s terse description of the ridiculous parallel world theories the humans came with left a lot to be desired.

“Card catalogs weren’t invented yet,” Lyra tossed over her back, studying the shelves.

“Well, I have no idea what kind of shelving system they might have,” I commented.

“Maybe we should have started with the Crystal Heart, instead,” Mary said.

“I’d rather reshelve this entire library than cast that spell right now. Especially right now,” Twilight said grimly. “Not after… Not after what we saw. It’s… It’s a temptation. You can’t cast it safely if you truly hate anything. Right now… there are things in this world that I really, really hate.”

“But this place is huge,” Spike complained. “This is cruelty to assistants!”

“Don’t worry, Spike,” she smiled at him. “We will just look through them in order until we find enough information. I promise you we’ll leave putting them back until we have enough ponies to help us.”

Still, not a particularly enticing prospect, knowing how easily Twilight gets sidetracked. And don’t get me started about Lyra. To be fair, I’m just as bad as both of them. Actually…

I looked up at the alien. “Didn’t you say the mentions of the actual function of the Crystal Heart were censored?”

“Pages literally torn out, yes.”

“Can you imagine Sombra, that shadow monster, personally tearing pages out?” I grinned.

“I’m sure he also had a pony-sized form. The other iterations do,” the human replied thoughtfully. “But no, that doesn’t sound like a productive use of his time.”

Twilight and Lyra threw curious glances at me.

Yes, girls, I have a theory. “So he would have ordered the librarians to seek out and destroy the relevant books and pages. They would need to be themselves at the time to do it.”

“But no librarian would ever destroy books!” Twilight complained.

“Right,” I nodded. “But can you expect a normal librarian to refuse a creature like that?”

“Those that actually did are probably dead right now,” Lyra winced.

“Yes,” I nodded. “But the ones that didn’t would still hide every book they could.”

“So we’re never gonna find them,” Spike complained.

“No, Spike,” I replied, trotting up to a nearby shelf and giving it a deep sniff. “Where do you hide a tree? In a forest. Where do you hide a book?”

“In a library?” Twilight bounced in place.

“Yes!” I exclaimed. “Disguised as another book!” I pulled out a freshly rebound thesaurus, which still smelled sharply of fish glue, and flipped it open to the title page.

My very first guess turned out to be correct. “Aha!” I said, proudly presenting the book to everyone.

“I can’t read that, surprisingly,” Mary commented. I know she is literate… Oh, of course.

“It’s still Equish, that’s just the old earth pony script,” I explained. “‘History of the Crystal Empire. Stories for the little colts and fillies.’”

And then, as they huddled around me, I started reading the book aloud…

The Story of Crystal Ponies

Once upon a time, long before ponies discovered our beautiful land of Equestria, ponies did not know harmony. It was a strange and dark time, torn apart by hatred. But even in that time, in the ancestral lands, there were places where love and passion would blossom, knowing no divide between pony tribes, nor high or low birth. In the small duchy of Catria, the wise and old Duke Persano ruled peacefully over his subjects, unicorns and pegasi and earth ponies alike. He had two daughters, Sunlit Seen, an earth pony, brave and valiant, with a flame for her cutie mark, and Amore, a unicorn, too young for a cutie mark, but smart and wise in the ways of magic beyond her years. They were born out of wedlock, but recognized and accepted, and beloved by all in the land.

When the mysterious blizzards overtook the world, and the grand summit of pony leaders was assembled and came to no results, the Duke returned home with his retainers, and spoke thus to his daughters, “Our suzerains abandon us in the time of need, torn apart by petty squabbles, and we have no choice but to rely on ourselves alone. I have lived a long and happy life, and was gifted with two beautiful daughters, but I fear that my time has come to an end, for I am old and feeble of body. Steel yourself against the hatred that tore our brothers and sisters apart, take our ponies and cross the frozen seas to lands uncharted and unknown.”

And as he said, so it was. The two sisters cried for days, but there was nothing to be done. So they bid their farewells to their noble father, and set out across the ice, and with them, the earth pony farmers and artisans, the unicorn magicians and the pegasi knights, in a caravan so long, that from one end, the other could not be seen.

Long was the way and full of hardship, and as the rations started running out, many ponies did not live to see the next sunrise. Most of the unicorn magicians perished, and so did many of the pegasi knights. Even the hardier earth ponies were nearing their limits. And so, they addressed the noble sisters, saying, “Where is that land of plenty across the ocean, and is it in truth not a fable? Should we not turn back, while we’re still on our hooves?”

But Sunlit Seen told them so: “Do not despair, my ponies, for we are still alive, and there will still be a sunrise tomorrow. None may know the future, but if you believe it will come, if you have resolve, if there is hope in your heart, there will be an end to this journey, and there will be an end to the blizzard. To turn back, to stop, is to die right now, for there is nothing behind our backs but ice and snow.”

The ponies were still full of doubt, and spoke thus, “But will there be a sunrise tomorrow? The sun wobbles in the sky, like a kite in the wind. These are the end times, and we do naught but prolong our suffering.”

“And what of it?” said Sunlit Seen. “If you are strong and pure of heart, you need not fear death nor suffering, for to nobly die trying is still better than to give up and die in despair. And it is so, for a unicorn and a pegasus and an earth pony alike, for all ponies truly live and die the same. Even if the sun should ever stop in the sky, if the sunrise never comes, I do so swear on the flames of my cutie mark, that I shall light your way, whatever it takes. Those who still follow me then will live to see this journey end.”

And so the long walk across the frozen ocean continued, and while more ponies died, they kept pushing forward to lands unknown and pastures unseen.

And there did come a time when the sun did not rise at all, as the Unicorn Conclave failed to raise it for the first time of many, and despair overtook the caravan, for in the frozen darkness, they could not see their way. True to her word, Sunlit Seen tore her chest apart with her hooves and pulled her heart out, and it burned with the holy light of hope and love. She took it into her teeth and went ahead, and the ponies followed, as the very ice under their hooves was melting in the blaze, revealing the earth underneath.

So they walked for many more days, leaving a trail of melted snow, until finally, in the valley in the Crystal Mountains, in sight of the Mount Everhoof, Sunlit Seen could walk no more and let out her last breath. She died, and yet, her heart still burned, lit the land and warmed the earth. Thus, the ponies found their new home, in a land of precious crystal and strong magic, fertile ground buried beneath ancient ice.

And Amore, the younger sister, spoke so to the surviving ponies, “We have come here, and here we shall stay, but our journey is not yet truly done. We shall build ourselves a city, an Empire. We shall summon crystal out of the ground with earth pony magic and shield our new home from the cold, while my sister’s heart still burns and her hope is still alive.”

And so they did. As the earth ponies spun the crystals out of the earth, the unicorns built mighty spells into them, and the pegasi infused them with magics of the air to keep the cold weather out. The city grew overnight like a snowflake, and the wise Amore designed a spell into the very streets. Should the day come when the sun fails to rise again, it will shift itself and all the ponies within out of the world, out of the very space and time, to await the moment when it may return.

With that, Amore received her cutie mark of a snowflake, and the happy ponies crowned her the first Crystal Princess, to rule over them in peace and harmony, and so she rules us to this day.

To ensure that Sunlit Seen’s heart will never, ever die, that the holy light will burn forever, the order of the Crystal Ponies was founded, charged with keeping the heart alive. In the ceremony of crystalling, a pony is bound to the Heart through a linkage crystal, contributing their love and hope to a greater whole, so that as long as there are Crystal Ponies, the Heart remains.

First, only the able bodied adults were inducted into the Crystal Ponies, but many more ponies wanted to join. The elders followed, and then, the children. Soon, all the ponies of the Crystal Empire were Crystal Ponies, and so, the tradition of the Crystalling began, where every newly born foal is presented to friends and family and joins them among the ranks of the Crystal Ponies.

All mortal things have their limits, and not a scrap of the original heart of Sunlit Seen remains, all spent and burned away, and yet, her Crystal Heart is still alive, and so it will forever be – for as long as the sun rises, and beyond.

✶                ✶                ✶

When I finished, the library was coated in stunned silence.

“That was a lot more informative than I expected,” Mary commented.

Lyra ignored her. “She’s real!” she exclaimed, grinning ear to ear, and dancing around us in a circle.

“Wait, so you knew about that?” Twilight asked. “Rika predicted it almost word for word, ‘in a moment of great despair, she tore her own heart out…’” She shuddered. “I can’t imagine telling a story like that to little fillies.”

“Pony Folklore From The Ancient Times, volume VI, Rainbow Falls collection.” Lyra stopped dancing and suddenly embraced both me and Twilight, pulling us in together. “It had the start, but not the ending, that story ended with them arriving to the mountains!” she exclaimed. “I never hoped I’d find out what happened next, I thought I would have to invent the whole thing!”

“Strange,” Mary said, looking at us with a blank face. “There’s a very similar story in my world, but it’s rather more depressing.”

“Just how can that be any more depressing?” Twilight asked.

“Survivors, now safe, destroy the heart.”

“Why?!” me and Twilight chorused. I couldn’t believe my ears. How could anything do that?

“Just in case,” Mary shrugged. “They were scared of it.”

I shuddered and felt Twilight shudder with me. “Never mind,” Twilight mumbled. “Does this book have anything more specific to the Crystal Faire itself?”

“I’ll find out as soon as Lyra stops trying to break my neck,” I mumbled right back.

“Sorry, girls,” Lyra grinned and let us go.

It did not take me a lot of page flipping to find a story mentioning the Crystal Faire…

The First Crystal Faire

Once upon a time, news arrived from the south to the Crystal Empire, that the other pony leaders had reconciled, and found friendship and harmony between them in the new land. Soon, the Empire joined Equestria Accords under the Alicorn Sisters, united with the other pony tribes and kingdoms under their protection.

And there came a day when the crystal ponies had to call on the Accords, as a giant dragon invaded the Crystal Empire, taking the happy ponies by surprise, slaying many, and stole the Crystal Heart. Cold and despair overtook the ponies of the Empire.

Soon, the Alicorn Sisters, our suzerains, arrived with their host, with the mighty pegasi army, the great wizard Star Swirl the Bearded, and their griffon allies, and Princess Celestia addressed the great dragon, saying thus: “You have taken from my little ponies something that is precious and irreplaceable. What was your reason? Speak true, for much depends on your answer.”

And so the dragon replied: “I have merely recovered stolen property, for every crystal melded into this heart comes from the Crystalline Mountain, which is part of my hoard by ancient rights. There is nothing in that heart which is not mine.”

So Princess Celestia said, “Every crystal pony has given of themselves in friendship and love to make this relic, and it keeps alive the holy light of hope, the light of a pony who gave everything for her tribe. Surely that does not belong to you, even if every single crystal in it does. Ask for whatever tribute you wish in compensation, but return the Heart and bother my little ponies no more.”

The dragon laughed. “What is the value of that friendship and light and hope? Ashes in the wind, transient and worthless, an illusion of true value. Crystals are forever. I have no need of this heart, for it mangles and distorts their worth. But if I do not protect my property, if I do not enforce my rights, it is as if I don’t have them at all, so I shall not surrender this worthless bauble for anything. Leave me, and do not return.”

Princess Celestia replied, in fury not seen before or since, “I was ready to deal with you, for peace for my little ponies and harmony in Equestria are worth it, but that, I cannot abide. There is nothing more precious than friendship and love and hope, and all your crystals are nothing before them. If you cannot see that, there is no place in Equestria for you! Begone, heathen, and do not return, for if you do, your life is forfeit.”

And so the dragon replied: “Make me.”

And there was a mighty battle, and the great dragon was forced out of Equestria altogether, losing all his hoard and barely escaping with his life.

The Crystal Heart was returned to its rightful place in the Crystal Empire, and the crystal ponies rejoiced, as cold was expelled and joy returned to their hearts. A grand celebration followed, blessing all of Equestria with the holy light of the Crystal Heart.

Since then, every year under Celestia’s sun, the day of its return is celebrated with the Crystal Faire, and the magic of love and hope is released to bathe every kingdom of ponies in the holy light, and thus it will forever be – for as long as the sun rises, and beyond.

✶                ✶                ✶

“Now we know how the Dragon War started,” Lyra commented. “That dragon clearly had some pull in the dragon society.”

“That’s… frighteningly possible,” Twilight agreed. She reached into her messenger bag for the forged journal and flipped it open on the bookmarked page. “What was his, was his, and dragons don’t share…” she read aloud.

Spike puffed his cheeks out in a show of indignation, but didn’t say anything.

“It does seem to be mostly factually correct, but with lots of pieces missing,” I nodded. “Like somepony was recording half-remembered stories and plastering over memory holes.”

“Half-remembered stories they’re very unlikely to have heard in the first place,” Twilight pointed out. “Princess Luna made me suspect that when she mentioned how she became friends with Princess Platinum, but that’s a solid confirmation. I take it that’s the first time you hear this one, Lyra?”

“That’s not in any of the ten volumes of Pony Folklore From The Ancient Times,” Lyra confirmed. “Or any of the other collections I’ve read. Most of the information we have about the Dragon War at all comes from griffon lore.”

“Still doesn’t bring us much closer, does it,” I said.

“We’re getting sidetracked,” Twilight interrupted, stomping a hoof and stuffing the journal back into her bag. “Now we know the why of the Crystal Faire, which is important, but we still don’t know the how. We need to know how to host one ourselves, that’s what we came here for! Our personal curiosity can wait, there are ponies still suffering. The sooner we can figure this out, the better!”

“Let’s see if I can save us some time,” Mary commented. She stood in front of the shelves and closed her eyes.

“What are you doing?” I wondered.

“S-sh,” Spike hissed at me. “Watch.”

Her eyes still closed, Mary made a few steps to the right, and stretched her hand out, touching the spine of some kind of encyclopedia. “This one.”

Suspiciously thin for an encyclopedia. I reached out with my magic and pulled the book open.

The title page read: “Crystal Faire Volunteer’s Manual.”

“You could have done this right when we came in, couldn’t you,” I accused.

“Maybe,” she replied, somehow looking at me with her eyes still closed. “Maybe not,” she added, opening them, and I found both the mismatched eyes staring right at me, the micro-gems in her dress punctuating that stare with their eerie shine. “This is still not my story, you see. Not really.”

I feel like I will need a lot more brain picking sessions with her before I can understand what she actually meant.

Author's Note

So this is how it happened in this Equestria.

The two legends presented in this conversation are probably some of the best stuff I have written for “Aporia.”

Beyond their place in the wider-reaching plot space, they are also, collectively, an allegory. To be more precise, they’re my answer to Skywriter’s “Hoardsmiths.” Take a moment to read that story, if you haven’t already. Check the comments, as well, and remember what was going on when it was written. I am quite confident in saying it’s worth your time. How is it an answer? Well, imagine they refer to the same dragon…

To give credit where credit is due, the story of Sunlit Seen is inspired by an 1894 short story by Maxim Gorky, called “Old Woman Izergil,” which itself purports to be a recording of three legends heard in Bessarabia, as told by the eponymous old woman. It’s not that widely known in this day and age,(1) but that is what Mary is referring to. I would point you directly to a copy, but ironically, English translations of this ancient classic are too copyrighted to be readily available online. Even though the date would put them into public domain pretty much anywhere in the world, I couldn’t find one I could refer you to without linking to dodgy places.

(1) In fact, unless you’re as old as me, you’re unlikely to have heard of it unless you played “Cryostasis: Sleep of Reason,” which quotes the entire text of the relevant legend verbatim as part of its environmental storytelling, although I don’t really understand what did they do that for, since it hardly has much relevance to the events of the plot.

Conversation 37: Twilight Sparkle

I was in the stadium again.

I was surrounded by ponies of all colors and shapes, as a shadow scanned over them, covering each and every one with a cloud, and colors would vanish, evaporate, wash out, leaving only the dull, near-gray bodies.

Bodies of something which is no longer a pony, but is still somehow alive, no longer capable of caring or joy, but still, mysteriously, able to weep over losing something it does not even remember anymore. Suffering in its most abstract form, loss that leaves a gaping hole in your heart that no power can fill, because it’s not actually empty. The greatest pony virtues turning in on themselves.

What are those purple splotches in the corners of my vision?…

Right, that’s simply dark magic. These are not splotches, that’s my own energy bleed-off.

That’s my own shadow.

And when I realized that, I finally screamed so loud, that I think I heard the echo bounce off the sky.

As if to answer that scream, a dark, midnight blue figure descended from the heavens right into the middle of the field, a terrifying alicorn of judgment with a beautiful mane of stars.

I fell prone before her in a pose of supplication and squeezed my eyes shut. “Please kill me quickly, before I do something even worse,” I whispered.

Nothing happened.

“Truly, Twilight Sparkle, thou art determined to join yond most exclusive gathering of people whose most terrifying nightmare is themselves,” she finally said in a most solemn tone. “This maketh mine own duty most complicated.”

I opened one eye and found Princess Luna staring intently into it with an expression of compassion tainted with barely concealed curiosity.

“So this is a dream?” I exclaimed, trying to shake the bleed-off trails out of my eyes.

“Most certainly,” Luna nodded, “thou art asleep and this is thy nightmare. Thou art… You are not capable of such atrocities in the waking world, and never will be.”

I felt my cheeks heat up. Luna noticed, and turned away from me. She lit her horn and I saw her inscrutable dream magic at work, as the ponies in the seats started transforming, from damaged and terrified husks into peacefully sleeping, bright splotches of color.

“In the morning, while the girls set up the Crystal Faire, I have to recover the Crystal Heart from where Sombra hid it,” I explained grimly after taking a breath. “I… don’t feel confident I can cast the spells required safely, and I am terrified of what I might do if I fail.”

I needed to formulate it for myself even more than Luna needed to hear it. I’m sure she could tell at a glance what happened, anyway.

“Dark magic is a temptation indeed,” Luna replied, without turning around, still working on my imaginary ponies, “but the dangers it poses to your mind are subtle and insidious. It does not turn you instantly into a monster. Were you to truly give in to that temptation, you would find a darkness of your very own, rather than a pale imitation of another’s.”

She would know. She does, she knows better than anypony.

“It might not even turn out to be evil,” she added, throwing a cautious glance at me over her shoulder. “At least, not for quite a substantial time. You are, unquestionably, a righteous pony, Twilight Sparkle.”

She is entirely serious, isn’t she.

Luna turned around. “Sister has received your brother’s telegrams, but they were terse beyond measure. While the occasion is hardly apropos, you might as well use it to tell me of what transpired in detail. It will calm your soul, and sate my curiosity as well.”

I took a breath and started talking. I’m not sure how long it took. Dream time is very subjective, and it could be anywhere between a few seconds and an eternity, but I told her everything – of the battle with Sombra’s slave army, of the depths of pony suffering that I saw, of the storybook we found in the library, and of our plan to use the Crystal Fair to counter the amnesia spells.

“Mary seems certain this is going to work, but I can’t say I understand the mechanics of the process well,” I admitted. I felt so excited about it when we found the volunteer’s manual, that I burst into yet another heartsong just to tell everypony about it – two heartsongs in one day, if that’s not an indication I’m in shock, I don’t know what is – but now that I had a chance to sleep on it, I wasn’t quite so sure anymore.

Having Cadance and Shining Armor sing with me was wonderful, though.

“Doubt not, it shall work,” Luna replied. “I must admit I envy you terribly, to be present for the first activation of the Heart in a thousand years. It is an experience just as enlightening as it is exhilarating. I have never had the honor of knowing her sister, but Amore herself was a genius, and I was proud to call her my friend. Even in death, they saved the Crystal Empire.”

That …actually, that calmed me down a lot. All my troubles have one, known solution. I just have to execute it well.

That’s actually the problem, but at least, that’s just one problem. No hidden variables.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand at all,” I said. “Who was Sombra, really?”

“A mystery,” Luna replied. “One thing we know for certain is that he was a citizen of the Crystal Empire, an orphan found in the northern wastes. We know nothing of the origin of his dark powers.”

“So what exactly happened?” I asked, “I understand it’s probably classified for a good reason, but… Something triggered the emergency vault spell.”

An earthquake? Does this place even get earthquakes? I felt the ground of the field trembling slightly under my hooves.

There was a long, awkward pause, as I pulled back from Luna’s motionless gaze. “For four moons, we had no knowledge of what really transpired,” she said finally. “Winters are long in the Frozen North. All we knew for certain was that the Crystal Empire had a disorderly change of succession. A situation not entirely unheard of at the time, and the Accords had no provision for us to save ponies from their own rulers. We were horrified by the rumors, but could only hope that Amore is still alive and well in his dungeons.”

“But she wasn’t…” I realized. Lyra mentioned several vaguely similar incidents that she researched. Most of the old pony kingdoms were founded by leaders who had the charisma to get ponies to follow them into the unknown even when they didn’t have the skill to keep them happy and fed. Ponies who thought they could do a better job and felt it important enough to use violence to take over still needed every bit of support they could get. Some usurpers would force a formal marriage just for the illusion of legitimacy, consigning their “spouses” to a life in a gilded cage. The more confident ones would simply imprison or exile the previous rulers. Execution was off the books, that’s what monsters do. Monsters like Sombra. “And when you found out…”

No, I’m positive the field is shaking.

“Indeed,” Luna nodded. “He spent four moons forcing the crystal ponies to create the single foulest weapon Equestria ever saw, hoping to destroy every force that could oppose him at once. We came alone, and offered him to pick one of us for an honorable challenge. Enraged, he used his weapon in a suicidal attack, as a last gesture of defiance. Right outside the weather barrier. It took us all of our power and tremendous good fortune to survive it. But when Amore’s spell triggered, the Crystal Empire was sealed, and Sombra with it.”

“But what could possibly fool that spell into thinking the Sun failed to rise for a thousand years?!” I exclaimed.

“That, Twilight Sparkle,” she spoke forcefully, leaning into my face, “is the real secret of the Crystal Empire. While it was Sombra who ordered it, while he had to enslave the entire city to do it, it was earth pony magic that made that weapon. If there are things in this world that ponies were never meant to know, this is one of them. I hope for your sake, that your judgment is sound enough to let that secret stay buried, for it is my duty to stand over its grave.”

I shivered. And then the ground shook so hard that I fell. “What’s happening?” I asked.

“Somepony has been trying to shake you awake, Twilight Sparkle,” she replied and smiled, “I have already intruded on your dream for longer than necessary and held you unduly, please forgive me. But the conversation was important. You would do well to attend to thi–”

“–S.B.F.F,” Shining Armor repeated, his hoof gently but firmly shaking me by the shoulder.

I blinked and dug my face out from under the blanket. I’m still in one of the castle’s guest rooms. This really was a dream. I just hope I’ll never, ever have one like that again.

“I’m sorry to wake you up, Twily, but we need you,” Shining Armor said.

“What happened?” I asked, crawling out to stand upright.

“Changelings,” he said simply.

“What!” I jumped up in panic. “Why aren’t you sounding the alarm?!”

“Let the poor crystal ponies sleep in their own beds for a change,” he grinned. “I have a plan.”

✶                ✶                ✶

The city was asleep, but the castle wasn’t anymore.

“Now read this yourself,” Spike mumbled, curling up on Shining Armor’s back, not even bothering to catch the scroll that he just flamed in.

“Thanks, Spike, you’ve saved us a lot of trouble,” Shining replied, pulling out a medium sized fire ruby. “Here, I hope this will be good enough compensation for being woken up in the middle of the night.”

Spike sprang to attention immediately, as if he wasn’t half-asleep just moments ago. “Where’d you get it?” he asked, grabbing for the gem and biting off a huge piece.

“We’re in the Crystal Empire, remember?” Shining grinned. He’s always spoiling my little dragon…

I unrolled the scroll and skimmed it quickly.

Dear Twilight Sparkle,

We thought it unlikely that Chrysalis would attempt another attack so soon after her defeat, but as unpleasant as this piece of news was, it did not catch us entirely unprepared.

I have dispatched the Wonderbolts and 3rd Baltimare Airborne Rangers to relieve you immediately. They should arrive within six hours. Luna insisted on leading this expedition, and I hope this response will be sufficiently forceful to deter the changelings without a battle.

I am going to stay in Canterlot, because we can’t rule out the possibility that this is a feint. It is fortunate that you already have the Elements with you. Please use them for the good of Equestria in whichever way you see fit, with my blessing.

Yours,
Princess Celestia.

“So, when are they coming?” Shining Armor prodded me.

“By dawn,” I replied, doing some mental calculations. It’s almost poetic. “Princess Luna, Wonderbolts, and all the airborne rangers. Princess Celestia must be really mad.” I shivered. I have never actually seen her mad myself, and I’m afraid to imagine what it might look like up close. Ten airships loaded to the brim with artillery and ponies even the rest of the army calls dangerous maniacs, and that blessing… Yes, that’s pretty mad.

“Oh my, we’re going to be positively swimming in dashing ponies in uniform, and I have nothing to wear…” Rarity said, sticking her tongue out in exertion, her horn glowing brightly. “I thought the United Kingdoms can’t interfere.” Even despite being woken up in the middle of the night, she mysteriously became the very picture of elegance by the time we assembled here. Sometimes, I wish I had that skill, I probably look like a hedgehog right now.

“In fighting Sombra, yes,” Shining Armor replied. “The changelings are an external threat. Celestia’s actually compelled to deal with it by the Accords, regardless of who’s in charge in the Crystal Empire, and she is allowed to call in foreign allies. We just have to hold out until they arrive, and I think we will do fine. Disabling this shield from the inside isn’t that easy.”

“Ah, it’s not working at all, and I’m already exhausted!” Rarity complained. “It’s like it bleeds every little bit of magic away into the aether the moment I feed it in!”

Shining Armor’s plan was actually put into action much earlier in the day, soon after Sombra was defeated. Teams of unicorn guards would take turns boosting the capacitor of the castle little by little for the entire day, and the moment the swarm was spotted amidst the blizzard outside the weather barrier, the built-in shield spells were turned on. Crystal Empire certainly earned the designation, this is one of the biggest static shields ever made.

And now, the six of us – me, Shining Armor, Cadance, Rarity, Moondancer and Lyra – were standing in the parabolic chamber at the base of the castle, covering the six points of the glowing snowflake circuit and doing our part to keep the shield up, by trying to feed magic into the capacitor faster than the shield was burning through it. Mostly me and Moondancer, really. Shining Armor and Cadance are still recovering, and don’t have much to spare. Neither Lyra nor Rarity can boast a high magic capacity in the first place. But every little bit helps.

Sometimes, being the strongest unicorn available isn’t much fun. Especially when you have to perform the magical equivalent of filling a leaky teapot by carefully pouring water in through the long and thin spout with a teaspoon, a process just as fiddly as it is mind-numbing.

“It’s not very efficient,” Moondancer replied, her horn blazing. “It never needed to be, they had a miracle engine.”

“Miracle engines don’t exist,” I objected. “They aren’t even just a theory, they’re completely unscientific.”

“I don’t know how you can say that with a straight face while wearing the Element of Magic on your own head,” Moondancer glanced at me.

I tensed my ears, feeling the weight of the crown between them. A miracle engine is a hypothetical arcane device capable of ignoring the laws of thaumodynamics. Is that what the Elements are really doing?

Princess Luna told me that meeting my friends was a miracle, too. I never really thought about it, because I have never had a chance to wear this crown for the entire day before, but I can feel them through their Elements right now. Like we’re standing back to back, even though we are actually apart. Rainbow Dash is sleeping soundly. For the first time since the first changeling attack, she feels proud of herself again. Rarity is right here with me, trying her best. Applejack is too tired for dreams, she carried several cars worth of supplies in on her own back. Fluttershy is still sad. Pinkie is not asleep. She has her nose buried in the Crystal Faire Volunteer’s Manual, reading the margin notes left behind by party ponies of the ancient world.

It’s those little experiences that defy explanation that make me think what Luna said is true. Friendship is magic… and that magic is beyond magic. An idea that is definitely true, and yet difficult to think of in words. Even simply saying it sounds a little bit embarrassing, like I’m a little filly just learning to talk and trying to recite a rhyme to my parents, collecting words into sentences without fully understanding what the result means.

“The Crystal Heart collects something, and more goes out than comes in,” Moondancer continued, treating my silence as an invitation for a rant. “I can’t say I believe in ‘love energy,’ it goes against all the thaumic theory we have, but I can’t just ignore the evidence when I’m in a city built on it, under siege by creatures that supposedly eat it. So yes, Twilight. It’s a miracle engine, it amplifies love on a massive scale, and the thaums that go into the capacitor are just a waste product. If you want a humbling experience for a post-classical magic theorist, look no further. An alicorn princess of love is a unique occurrence. This was built by ponies like you and me.”

“Some things have to be seen to be believed,” Cadance commented. “Love needs to be believed to be seen, Moondancer.”

I wish I could just use the Element of Magic to power the shield and let the girls sleep in peace, but I only have the vaguest idea how, and no time for experimentation. It’s like instead of us invoking the Elements, it’s the Elements imposing themselves on the world through us. It is evident the world has a moral dimension. It might not favor good over evil, but it certainly delineates the two. So is harmony the natural order of the world, or is it something ponies bring with them?

“It’s the theoretical implications that make it difficult,” Moondancer replied, “Like I’m reenacting the endless dispute between Morari the Maneless and Star Swirl the Bearded in my head. Now I feel like Snowfall Frost who doesn’t believe in friendship. It’s not exactly easy when you can’t consciously understand it. How did you do it?”

“Not knowing anything about unicorn magic at the time was part of it,” Cadance replied with a smile. “Ask me how to make a cloud, and I might tell you something useful. I’m not a scholar. Just a princess.”

Rarity looked up and stared at her. “Just a princess?! There is such a thing as being too humble for your own good, darling!”

“Yes, Rarity, just a princess,” Cadance said. “I can see love, or rather, hear it. I don’t ask myself why. I know how to nurture it and I wield magic that helps it grow and restores it. But if you ask me how it works… There’s a reason I never went to the School for Gifted Unicorns.”

This really is not going as well as it should. As an alumna of the School for Gifted Unicorns and Princess Celestia’s personal student, I should be able to figure out a better way to do it. We’re already covering all six endpoints, the relative power of the individual participants shouldn’t matter, it’s a self-balancing vortex. But what if the imbalance results in canceling some of the power out before it gets into the circuit? Getting better throughput could be as simple as swapping some of us around. Me, Rarity, Cadance, Moondancer, Lyra… wait a moment.

“Lyra… Please don’t be offended, but I think you’re doing it backwards,” I said. It’s almost like she’s sucking magic out instead of feeding it in!

“Huh? Oh yeah?” she glared at me. “Well, how do you know you’re doing this right?”

Is she just cranky because they woke her up from a pleasant dream? She hasn’t said a word ever since she came and took her place. I was about to launch into a lecture about how thaumic capacitors work, purely out of habit, but then I noticed it.

“Never mind. Did you feed Grayswandir today?” I prodded experimentally.

Rarity threw a curious glance at me. Of course it’s nonsense. Lyra is just the sort of pony to play off this nonsense and say something witty in response. She never took her crystal off since that night, not even once. Bon-Bon actually complained about it at the wedding. It was just a passing expression of annoyance, but that was what got Lyra talking about it in the first place.

“Of course I did,” she replied, as if this was perfectly normal.

“You’re not really Lyra Heartstrings, are you,” I said, staring hard at her.

She stared back.

“You’re sabotaging the charge, you don’t have her crystal, and you don’t even know anything about it,” I pressed on. “Tell us where the real Lyra is, and you will be treated as fairly as the laws of the Crystal Empire allow.” I’m sure Cadance will back me up on this promise even if, somehow, she isn’t allowed to make law on the spot. In any case, we might be able to extradite the changeling to Canterlot for participating in the Canterlot invasion.

Instead of the answer, there was a swirl of green magic, the same swirl I observed when the changeling queen transformed in front of me, and everypony instinctively recoiled from the hissing, black insectoid face.

That hiss was cut mercifully short, as a blunt end of a spear belonging to one of the guards standing watch outside the chamber slammed into the back of the changeling’s head, and she dropped down, motionless.

Or is it a he? They appear to have no distinctive sexual characteristics whatsoever, do they even have any sexual dimorphism? Queen Chrysalis exhibits an almost predatory femininity, but she might be the only one…

“Quick thinking, Power Gate,” Shining said, breathing out.

“Just doing my duty, sir,” the guard saluted.

“Now…” Shining Armor continued, “Get the changeling out of here, we’ll deal with it later. Send a squad to check on Lyra and Bon-Bon. Pass on the word that we probably have more infiltrators. Use the passwords. Twilight, just how much damage did it do?”

I quickly cast my favorite enchantment inspection spell, lighting up the intricate arcane circuitry in the walls. Oh… “Well, it made us waste half an hour.”

Rarity cringed.

“Have I come at a bad time?” Mary inquired, peeking out of the doors. A stubborn strand of hair sticking out sideways from her mane indicated that she neglected the morning rituals just like I did. Seeing it on a creature usually so prim and proper felt slightly weird.

“We’re under siege by another army of changelings, they’re trying to sabotage our attempts to charge the shield, and I suspect they have Lyra and her marefriend,” I replied. “It’s a bad time for just about anything.”

“I noticed,” Mary said. “I just have a quick question.”

“Oh?”

“Does the word ‘centaur’ mean anything to you?”

Author's Note

Surprise!

And happy new year.

Conversation -128 ~ Brilliant Star

A faint smile. A sharp gaze of the deep green eyes, reflecting things that aren’t here. Everything else is a bit of a blur in the harsh glow of 650 nanometer red light. Thoughts bouncing off the walls as if they were sound. A very real sound of footsteps in the darkness and silence.

Thoughts about people.

There is nothing in the universe, except people.

Pick anything that is not a person, anything at all, pull on the chain, and a person will emerge on the other end. Anything that is done, anything that is known, anything that is said, anything that is learned, everything is either by people, for people, or both at once. Even when studying the furthest reaches of the Universe or the depths of the atom, or the most complicated mathematical construct, it is done to satisfy the curiosity of people, to solicit approval from people, to improve the lives of people. People are on the other end of the chain, always and forever. Nothing of matter is ever of interest, until it can feed people, make things for people, endanger people, answer the questions of people — and what is not part of the known world, cannot be believed to exist. What the universe is, is derived from people, and only people can be said to exist.

There is nothing else.

There is nothing in the universe, except words.

People cannot be known directly, for if one could say that they know everything at all about a person, they would be that person. There would be no other person to know. Everything that originates with people is, in fact, words — of languages spoken and unspoken, written and unwritten, symbolic and factual, drawn on paper and drawn out of a heart, something communicated to others to notify them of your own existence. Words are the only thing ever seen in this universe, are the only thing people can know each other by, so only the words of people can be said to exist.

There is nothing else.

There is nothing in the universe, except time.

Time is that which prevents things from happening simultaneously, that which allows the arrangement of a set of symbols into a sequence. Without a sequence, any and all words would be nothing but noise, obscuring the meaning of each other. Without splitting anything into the minimal units of meaning and ascertaining their relationship, nothing can ever be studied and nothing can be seen — and any given arrangement of units is equivalent to a sequence. And thus, sequences are the only true content of the universe.

There is nothing else.

Therefore, the universe is a story — a sequence of words originating with people. A story about people, told through words, across time.

About five quintillion stories. Stories that have been written. Stories that haven’t. Stories that have been read, stories that have been told, stories that have only been imagined.

There’s just one thing I would like to know.

Do I still count as people?

Do you?