Empty Horizons

by Goldenwing

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Original Character, Bat Pony, Science Fiction, Adventure, Griffons, Violence, Main 6, Gore
Length: 187034

Twilight wakes up, alone in the dark. And she's drowning.

The surface isn't safe anymore.

In the ruined depths of Canterlot, a team of brave salvagers discover six mares, long forgotten but miraculously preserved. Though these mares cannot remember what happened to their world, they possess powerful magic that hasn't been seen for centuries.

Now the Elements of Harmony are thrust headlong into a world beyond recognition. Twilight and her friends must dive into the sunken remains of history to determine what happened, but Equestria isn't the harmonious land it once was. Before they can focus wholly on the past, they may first have to survive the present.

It isn't going to be easy.

Audiobook by Skijarama!
Original Soundtrack by Noc!

Special thanks to Doccular42 for the original concept, and M1ntf4n for editing!

Join the Empty Horizons Discord!

Big thanks to dA artist fantazyme and reader jeffh4 for making this fantastic rendition of Rarity at Mr. Rich's party!

On the fence of whether to read? Check out the Rage Review or hear PaulAsaran's thoughts!

Published 2016-02-22 23:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2018-12-07 23:30:03 UTC

I: The Darkness

Twilight was drowning.

Her eyes shot wide open as she began to rise, her legs jerking in a panicky ascent to an uncertain surface. A jolt of pain raced down her spine as her horn hit against something hard above her. She couldn’t move. Her hooves were tied, her neck, her barrel, her whole body was held in place, wrapped tight in some cold, unmoving web.

What’s happening? Where am I? She fought to calm her racing mind, to drive the panic out and find that calm core of reason that had helped her surpass every problem before.

Darkness. She was in total darkness, underwater. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe. No matter how frantically she called upon her magic, she felt nothing, saw no warm purple glow from her horn. She was completely helpless.

The panic rushed back in a hungry flood, overwhelming her mind even as her lungs threatened to burst open. She kicked and bucked and shrieked through tightly closed lips, but to no avail. There was nopony coming for her. Here would be the end of Twilight Sparkle.

Then suddenly, movement. She could feel herself rising, feel the acceleration pushing her down against her bonds. The sudden burst of motion was so abrupt that it nearly jolted her mouth open. The panic receded ever so slightly, pushed back by the twin efforts of curiosity and hope.

She could feel it now: the cold chill of air running over her wet horn. The water was going down. She would survive.

It was almost too late. Just as the air touched the top of her muzzle, the reflexive urge to breathe grew too strong, and she sucked in a great shuddering gasp of water. A violent spasm wracked her body as the mixture of water and air rushed into her lungs. With renewed vigor she channeled magic once more and, even though she couldn’t see her horn’s glow, pushed the killing liquid out. The water burst from her mouth as she took in huge gasps of air, her whole body shivering as warm tears mixed with the icy cold drops that clung to her fur.

The movement stopped without warning, causing Twilight to wince in pain as her restraints pulled against her soaked fur.

After an eternity of silence, she opened her mouth to speak. A raspy cough came out instead. Her chest heaved as she inhaled another few lungfuls of life-giving air.

“H-hello?”

Her voice came out quiet and afraid, and was sucked up by the oppressive darkness far too quickly for her taste. She fought to control her chattering teeth as she waited for any response, for any sound at all. But, no matter how hard she strained, all she heard was the rush of blood pounding in her ears.

“Rainbow Dash? Applejack? Is anypony there?”

Silence.

Twilight’s breathing sped up and grew shallow. She squirmed helplessly against her restraints. “Help! Somepony help me!”

There was a sudden loud thunk from directly in front of her, causing Twilight to jolt in surprise. For a full minute she remained silent, listening to the noise echo into nothingness, barely even breathing, barely even thinking, for fear that she would miss something.

A harsh green light flared up before her.

“Ahh!” Twilight yelled out in pain as the brightness assaulted her eyes. She squinted against it, reflexively trying to block it out with one of her restrained hooves.

She could hear something, just barely. Her ears twitched at the sound of low, muffled voices from somewhere nearby. Was she in some kind of enclosed space?

“Ah, fuck,” the voice mumbled. “Still alive? Sabre, hoof me the pick!”

Twilight cracked an eye open, letting it adjust to the light. A spidery black lattice stood between her and the light, and behind it she could see a hazy silhouette moving about. The light moved and bobbed along with it, reminding her of hornlight following its owner.

Twilight screamed as a hefty spike punched through the wall before her with a sickening crunch. It ripped a long tear downwards before disappearing back into the light, only to return again just a moment later.

“Quiet, girl! Shut up before ye bring every beastie in town down on us!”

“Here, let me in. I’ve got her.”

An armored hoof shoved itself over her mouth and cut off her shrieks of terror. She continued to scream into it as the spike dove down again and again, tearing at her bonds.

“Sabre, we’ve got some movement closing in.”

“I’m not leaving her behind, Trails. Get these others out, too.”

“Eugh, right. This stink is gonna take forever to get out.”

Twilight whimpered as the last of her restraints was cut, and she fell limply into a puddle of thick green ooze. She lay there, quietly trembling, waiting for the spike to come down again and end it all.

“Miss, you alright?”

Twilight looked up as a hard, metal hoof touched her shoulder. A heavily armored form, only just recognizable as a pony behind the glowing blue lights set into its helmet and the interlocking plates that covered its torso, stood above her. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen before. If it wasn’t for the tinny, distorted mare’s voice that came from it, she would’ve never thought there to be a pony inside.

Twilight opened her mouth, a flood of questions all desperately fighting to go first, but all that came out was a weak, “Uh… I…” She looked around hazily. Massive, worn stone bricks surrounded her, the encroaching roots that gripped them black and lifeless. The walls disappeared above her into an inky blackness, a blackness which surrounded her in every direction, watching like a hungry predator just beyond the range of a brilliant blue lamp that rested on the floor. Green ooze tugged at her hooves as she shakily stood up, and for the first time Twilight noticed the thickness and taste of the fluid in her mouth. Behind her was a pony-sized black cocoon, one side torn to shreds, still leaking.

A changeling pod?

Changelings.

It all came back to her at once. Her brother, the wedding, Chrysalis, Princess Celestia lying beaten on the floor, the changeling swarm buzzing hungrily just beyond the shield. The changelings are attacking!

She turned back to the armored mare and pulled her closer with both forelegs. “Changelings are attacking Canterlot!” she exclaimed. “We need to find my brother! Where are my friends?”

The mare cocked her head, taking a step back. “I’m not sure what you mean, miss. My team is working on these other pods. You need to come with us.” She gestured behind her.

Twilight’s gaze followed the mare’s hoof. Five other pods were arrayed against the wall, another armored pony ripping into them with a pickaxe gleaming with the slick green liquid. This one had the bulkier shape of a stallion.

Just as she looked over, the stallion finished tearing apart the first pod, and a soaking wet Pinkie Pie fell out. Twilight reached out with her magic, catching her friend and easing her gently to the ground as she rushed to her side.

“Pinkie! Are you alright?”

“Aughhh…” Pinkie moaned, rolling into her back. “Twilight...? What happened…?”

Twilight looked up as another armored pony, this one taller but still with the body shape of a mare, spoke up from the very edge of the lamplight. “Uhh, Sabre. We really need to move. Soonish.”

The first armored mare, whom Twilight took to be ‘Sabre,’ scratched at the ground impatiently. “Faster, Flint. We don’t have all day.”

Flint let out an irritable grunt as he stabbed viciously into another changeling pod. “Well, how about ye quit standin’ ’round and give me a hoof then, eh?”

Sabre snorted as she approached a pod. She punched a hoof against it, and a matte black blade extended from her armor, stabbing through the hard carapace. “ETA till contact, Trails?”

Contact? A dozen possibilities popped up in Twilight’s head, each worse than the last.

Trails let out a thoughtful hum as she peered into the darkness. “A pessimist would tell you three minutes. So for your taste? Sixty seconds.”

Flint pulled a tendril apart with a loud snap, allowing an unconscious Fluttershy to fall face first into the green ooze around her pod. He moved on to the next pod without hesitation, tearing it apart hastily.

“Fluttershy!” Twilight ran up to Fluttershy, rolling her onto her side and feeling for a pulse. Her breath was faint, but it was still there. She looked up to the strange armored ponies, narrowing her eyes. “Who are you?” she demanded. “Where’s the Princess?”

Trails glanced back. “Princess? You been living under a rock or something?” She turned back to the darkness with a low chuckle.

Twilight frowned, taken aback by the response. Living under a rock?

“Quiet,” Sabre said, still cutting at her pod. “My name is Sea Sabre. This big guy is Flintlock, and the chatty one is Star Trails. We don’t have any time to talk. You just have to trust us. We can answer any questions you have later, but right now we need to move.”

She pulled her blade out, and a wild-eyed Rainbow Dash tackled her with a raspy roar. Sabre grunted in surprise, stumbling back a step before easily shoving the violent pegasus aside. Rainbow rolled with the blow, jumping back to her hooves with a quick wing flap and settling into a shaky attack stance.

“Rainbow, stop!” Twilight jumped in front of her friend. “They’re friends!”

“Wh-what?” Rainbow was breathing hard, her eyes flitting about uncertainly. “Where’s—changelings? The Princess? Fluttershy!” Rainbow practically fell at her unconscious friend’s side, laying a wing over her protectively.

Pinkie stumbled to her hooves. “Owww. Everything hurts.”

“What happened?” Rainbow demanded, rounding on Sea Sabre. “Where is everypony? Why’s it so dark? And who are you ponies?”

“Rainbow Dash, calm down!” Twilight whispered frantically. It was hard enough to figure all of that out as it was, and she really didn’t need an aggressive blue pegasus flying around attacking things.

Flintlock snorted as he began tearing into another pod. “I didn’t sign up fer this.”

“Thirty seconds,” Star Trails said.

Twilight quirked a brow. Thirty seconds? How could she possibly know that?

Sea Sabre only spared Rainbow a brief glance before she moved to start on the final pod. “Believe me, miss, I’d answer your questions if I could. But right now we really don’t have the—”

A distant boom echoed out from the darkness, causing dust and small stones to rain down from above. Twilight’s heart skipped a beat at the high-pitched animal shriek that followed soon after.

“That’ll be the mines,” Trails said. She shone the light on her chestpiece down the length of the wide hallway they seemed to be in, though the light wasn’t strong enough to reach the end. “Now or never, Boss!”

“What was that?” Twilight asked, peering into the darkness. The armored ponies offered no response.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Pinkie said. Her tail twitched as she backed away from the noise.

“Hey! She asked you a question!” Rainbow Dash flew past Twilight and right up to Star Trails, sticking her muzzle into her armored face. “What was that noise?”

Trails took a step back, eyeing Rainbow’s wings. “You’re a—wow. Very fast flyer.”

“Careful, little mare,” Flintlock said. “Those’re hunting calls ye hear. I’d recommend ye stay outta Traily’s way.”

Rainbow pulled back ever so slightly, uncertainty flashing across her face as she glanced to the big stallion.

A shrill screech pierced the air, and Twilight picked out an inky black figure sprinting out of the darkness at alarming speed. Star Trails shoved Rainbow Dash aside with one hoof, mechanical gears on her armor ticking as what Twilight had assumed was a saddlebag began to unpack itself. A jagged spearhead poked out of the contraption, continuing to tick as Trails adjusted her stance. The ticking was cut off by a sudden jet of steam from the back of the pack, a javelin the size of Twilight’s leg leaping out of its brace.

The figure yelped in pain as it was struck, its face slamming into the ground as it lost its balance. It continued to skid across the floor, carried on by its own momentum, until it finally slid to a stop at Trails’ armored hooves.

Trails’ horn glowed a pale blue as she pulled the javelin out of the creature’s skull. She gave it a couple quick flicks to get the green ooze off the head before sliding it back into its brace. “Okay Sabre, really now. Can we leave?”

“Hang on, almost got it,” Sabre said, slicing into the pod before her.

Twilight stared wide-eyed at the corpse before Star Trails as green ichor dribbled out of the hole in its mottled carapace. A sickly sweet smell, like rotten fruit, assaulted her nostrils. The changeling was unlike any she’d seen before, its legs long and spindly and its mouth overflowing with razor sharp fangs. Its wings hung uselessly at its side, completely without filament, and it even seemed to have extra horns beginning to grow from its forehead.

“What is that?” Twilight whispered.

The final two pods popped open at almost the exact same time. Applejack stumbled weakly forth from hers, hat drooping down over her eyes as Sea Sabre lent a shoulder for support. Rarity wasn’t nearly as lucky, as Flintlock stepped back to let her fall down into the ooze that had spilled from her cocoon.

Rarity moaned, lying on her side. “Where am I…? What is—what is this?!” Twilight flinched as her voice suddenly jumped up a couple octaves. Rarity raised a green-soaked hoof up to her eyes, her lip trembling. “Oh, Celestia! It’s everywhere! Ew ew ew ew ew ew—” She began to shake herself wildly, voice still steadily rising.

“Shut up!” Flint barked.

Rarity froze, looking up as if she’d just noticed the ponies around her. She scrambled to her hooves, letting out a few high-pitched titters as she straightened up. “Ah, yes, hello.” Another little squeal escaped her lips as a thick green drop slipped off her mane.

“Twilight?” Applejack asked, still leaning on Sabre. “What’s goin’ on?”

Twilight took a deep breath. Her friends needed her to explain things, to solve the problem. Alright, start with what you know. You just got pulled out of a changeling cocoon by weird armored ponies, it’s pitch-black, and one of them just shot some warped version of a changeling with a steam-powered ponyborne ballista. She frowned. That was a disturbingly small selection of information from which to draw a conclusion.

She braced herself to say something that came very hard to her, looking between each of her friends. “I—I don’t know.”

Another monstrous scream echoed down the hall, this one accompanied by at least a dozen others, the calls echoing and overlapping like some high-pitched roll of thunder. Twilight’s ears flattened as the fearsome sound triggered a deeply seated fight-or-flight instinct.

Sea Sabre seemed totally unfazed by the sound from behind her armored helmet. She looked between her squadmates. “Alright, we’re moving. What’s up with that one?” She nodded at Fluttershy, still lying unconscious in front of her pod.

“I’ll get ’er.” Applejack pushed off of Sabre’s shoulder, taking a brief second to fix her hat before leaning down and pulling Fluttershy up. She wavered briefly as the pegasus’ weight settled onto her back.

“Ye got that?” Flint asked.

Applejack grinned weakly. “Don’t y’all worry ’bout me none, sugar cube. I’ll keep pace.”

Sea Sabre nodded. “Excellent. Trails, take point. Flint, vanguard. Rest of you in the middle with me. Let’s make for extraction.”

“Wait!” Twilight said, drawing a groan from Flint. She looked desperately between the six pods around her, resisting the urge to run from the predatory howls. “Where’s Spike?”

Flint glanced back towards the source of the changeling calls, which had since grown louder and more numerous. “We don’t got time for this, Sabre.”

“I’m sorry, miss, but we’ve already risked too much just pulling you and your friends out. We need to go. Now,” Sabre said.

Twilight exchanged desperate looks with her friends, seeing her own confusion and fear reflected in their eyes. Her eyes came to rest on Applejack, who gave her a reassuring little smile from under the drooping brim of her hat.

Twilight didn’t know what was going on, but her friends trusted her to find out. She’d have to stay strong, for them. Spike would have to fend for himself a little while longer.

“Okay,” she said. Forgive me, Spike. I’ll come back for you.

Without a word, Trails began to move at a brisk trot, her shoulder-light piercing the darkness before her. Sabre grabbed the lamp up off the floor with a wing and held it up high in the middle of the group. Twilight stayed huddled together with her friends in the middle of the group, while Flint brought up the rear.

They traveled in silence, with only the sound of their hooves on the stone and the shrill calls of the changelings to accompany them. Twilight eyed the chipped pillars and torn tapestries critically as they passed, vainly trying to piece together clues as to their location. The fabric was so old and mottled that even when Flint shone his light directly onto them, the image was impossible to make out.

Despite the strange environment and the constant screeching from behind her, Twilight felt her fear starting to subside. There was another, far more powerful emotion swiftly taking its place, an emotion which she had been slave to for all her life. Curiosity.

“Sabre,” she whispered. “Where are we?”

They came up to a pair of heavy, wooden double doors, one of which was resting at an awkward angle, its lower hinges having rotted out of place.

“Old Canterlot,” Sabre said.

Trails pushed the door open with a small burst of magic. The hinges let out a tired squeal as the door swung open, Trails’ light revealing a shallow staircase descending into a cobblestone plaza. With the help of their escorts’ lights, Twilight picked out a wide avenue running down the middle of a wrecked city. Most of the city was wreathed in the same deep, black shadows, but where the lights did shine it was practically falling apart from neglect, with loose stones and deep potholes littering the pavement, doors and windows lying shattered out of their frames, roofs collapsed into the homes beneath them and the blackened bones of dead trees decorating the walkways. Twilight gasped as she picked out a far too recognizable place, the wreckage of Pony Joe’s Donut Shop, the building cleaved in half by the upper half of a fallen tower as its signage hung limply from one corner.

Canterlot? She looked up, but there wasn’t a single star in the sky. The air was stale and stagnant. Only the sound of her breathing pierced the eerie silence.

“What—when—gah!” Twilight’s unfinished questions were interrupted by a rough push from behind, sending her stumbling down into the street and nearly flat onto her face. The sound of her hooves slipping against the stairs echoed loudly into the distance.

“Get movin’,” she heard Flint growl. “Don’t got all day.”

Twilight’s brow furrowed, her blood going hot at the stallion’s dismissive tone. She could feel magic starting to course through her and gathering in her horn—Oh, hey, what’s that? The magic fizzled out as she leaned in closer to the ground. From this close she was able to see the thick layer of dark purple algae which covered it in intermittent splotches, previously invisible in the darkness. Purple algae? She didn’t recall ever reading about purple algae.

She was pulled from her reverie by Rainbow rushing up to her side and nearly knocking her over. “Hey, don’t push her!” Rainbow snarled, ears back as she glared up at Flint.

Flint laughed. “What’re ye gonna do, little mare? Bite me?”

“Cut the crap, Flint,” Sabre warned, walking down the steps.

Twilight straightened up, brushed herself off and mentally filed the strange algae away for later. “It’s okay, Rainbow.” She put a calming hoof on the bristling mare’s shoulder. “I’m fine.”

With an indignant snort, Rainbow looked away. They made their way down the broken avenue quickly, with the mares from Ponyville all taking in their surroundings with wide eyes and open mouths.

“Where is everypony?” Pinkie asked quietly.

“Don’t worry, Pinkie. I’m sure we’ll get our answers soon. They’re probably all fine.” Twilight frowned as they passed by Pony Joe’s, climbing over a pile of wide stone blocks. The more of Canterlot she saw, the harder it was for her to believe that there had been any survivors. “Probably.”

There was a sudden screech from in front of them as they crested the pile of rubble, and Twilight saw a group of six changeling drones dash into the light, all with the same strange mutations as the one she’d seen before. But these changelings were bigger, with longer fangs and jagged spines running down their backs.

Sabre tossed the lamp to Twilight, who reflexively caught it in her magic. “Hold this. Stay here.”

Twilight flinched at the hiss of steam as Trails fired her javelin, immediately silencing the lead drone. Sabre charged headfirst into the changelings with a fearsome roar, her wings flaring as blades slid out of the flexible armor that lined them.

She jabbed a wing forwards, the hard metal spike over her joint crushing one drone’s head in. She raised the other wing to deflect another drone’s charge, spinning around to slash at its side as it passed. A third drone tackled her as she came out of the spin. The two rolled down the pile of rubble and out of Twilight’s sight, locked in a deadly grapple.

Flint shoved his way to the top of the rubble pile, and for the first time Twilight noticed the unusually shaped pipe that hung from his side. She nearly fell over in shock as it spat a sudden gout of flame with a painfully loud boom, and one of the changelings collapsed as a leg was cut clean off.

Flint laughed heartily as the pipe at his side continued to fire, causing Twilight’s ears to ring with the sudden bursts of sound. Two more drones were cut down, their chests exploding with sprays of green blood.

Twilight screwed her nose up at the sulphuric stench in the air, her eyes stinging as it mixed with the rotten-fruit scent of the changeling corpses. She swallowed back bile as she took in the green ichor and stray body parts that littered the stones like a foal’s painting. The screeching had died away now, both before and behind them, as Sabre climbed back up the rubble towards them.

“Good work. Back in formation,” she said, even more splashes of green staining the cool grey of her armor.

Twilight stepped gingerly over the corpses as the group continued its journey. She looked back at Flint in search of distraction and nodded at the pipe by his side. “What is that device?”

“What, this ol’ thing? Hah!” Despite the full coverage of his armor, Flint’s voice gave Twilight the distinct impression of a wide, eager grin. “This here is a Mk. 10 Repeater from th’ good ol’ boys at Viridian Specialty Munitions. It fires th’ biggest damn bullet this side of Harvest, and reloads itself faster’n ye can say ‘don’t shoot me’.”

“So it’s… some kind of self-loading cannon?” Twilight asked.

“Wha—cannon? Ye ain’t never heard of a gun, girl?” He paused as she looked at him blankly. “Sweet Celestia, how long’ve ye been down here?”

Twilight cocked her head. Down here? She opened her mouth to ask about the strange word choice when Trails’ voice cut her off.

“Hey shush, you two,” she said. “Sabre, we’ve got something big moving fast.”

Sea Sabre swept her head-light about, illuminating the long-dead plaza they were crossing. “Where?”

“It looks like it’s—well, here.” Trails nickered thoughtfully. “That can’t be right.”

Pinkie Pie perked up suddenly, her tail twitching wildly and kicking up a sizeable cloud of dust. “My tail! Twitch-a-twitch!”

Twilight’s heart skipped a beat. Reflexes honed from all the time she’d spent with Pinkie Pie began to kick in.

Applejack gasped. “Duck and cover!”

There was a sudden sound of crumbling rock.

A huge gust of wind knocked Twilight onto her side even as she tried to run.

The ground shook as a massive black shape fell past Twilight’s peripherals, the impact throwing her back to the ground as she tried to scramble to her hooves. A loud, angry buzzing filled Twilight’s ears as she pulled herself up, coughing at the sudden influx of dust. She narrowed her eyes as she searched for her friends, but the dust was too thick to see far.

“What was that?” she heard Rainbow yell.

“Tartarus, that’s a big ’un!” Flint shouted. Twilight could feel the report of his repeater firing in her bones.

She flinched as another huge gust of wind slapped at her face. An ear-splitting screech cut through the buzzing as she straightened up and finally got a good look at their assailant.

It was a changeling, and yet not. The beast towered above her, easily the size of a two-story building, its chitin marred by old dents and scars from a lifetime of battle. It stood hunched over like a wolf, a line of razor-sharp spikes running down its spine, easily long enough to gut a pony. Its mouth was so full to the brim with fangs that some of them seemed ready to fall out. Two twisted, gnarled horns grew from its forehead, wrapped in a raggedy green mane. And there, barely visible on top of the backmost horn, was a little green crown.

Twilight gasped. “Queen Chrysalis?”

The Beast-Queen lunged towards Flint, her jaws wide open. Flint spread his stance, bringing to bear another gun he had mounted opposite his repeater. He spared barely an instant to line up his shot before firing.

The Beast-Queen screeched in fury, rearing up as a cloud of razor-sharp flechettes smashed into her face. Twilight stared open-mouthed as the massive deformed changeling reeled, swiping wildly at its surroundings and forcing Rarity and Pinkie Pie to leap back.

Sea Sabre’s commanding voice shook Twilight from her reverie, amplified as if by a loudspeaker built into her armor.

“Run!”

Twilight broke into a full-on gallop, almost tripping over a small pile of rubble in her path. She screamed in terror as she joined up with her friends, leaping over a rotted tree and falling in behind Sea Sabre.

The ponies ran down the dilapidated streets of Canterlot as fast as they could, the pounding steps and shrill hisses of the Beast-Queen close behind spurring them on. Twilight could barely see where she was stepping at this speed; neither she nor her friends had the powerful flashlights which their rescuers wore, and in her panic she had forgotten to pick the lamp back up. Twice they ran into small packs of deformed changelings, and twice they were swiftly dispatched by Sabre and Trails. Twilight stumbled at least a dozen times, barely avoiding the obstacles revealed to her by Flint’s light only seconds before she reached them.

A changeling leapt out of an alley, rearing up before her. “Gah!” She shut her eyes tight, magic coursing through her in an instinctive act of self defense.

Thick wetness splashed over her face, and when she opened her eyes again, the changeling was gone. There wasn’t any time to spare on disgust. She saw Sea Sabre watching her for a brief moment before looking forwards once more.

“We’re almost there!” Trails shouted. “It’s right through this building!”

Twilight caught a glimpse of her diving into the collapsed wreckage of an old tower. Everything above the third floor was long gone, and the rubble from its second floor was spilling out into the street. Sea Sabre skidded to a stop outside the entrance, crouching low as her armor began to unpack. Small jets of steam poured from a device on her back as it ejected a net tied between a dozen spherical weights. Twilight’s mane and coat stood on end as it passed over her, electricity arcing across its breadth, and another pained shriek came from behind her. Glancing back, Twilight saw the Beast-Queen toppling over, a group of drones coming to her aid as she struggled to break free from the charged net.

“C’mon, pick it up!” Sabre yelled, waving Twilight into the building. She almost ran straight into Star Trails, who was standing on the far side of the room, forehooves pressed against a thick stone slab that had blocked off a hallway.

“No, no, no, fuck!” Trails said. “It’s blocked! Sabre, we can’t go this way!”

Twilight’s friends ran inside right after her, Applejack practically falling over as she stopped to set Fluttershy down. Flintlock and Sea Sabre came in last, Sabre immediately heading for Trails.

“What? It was clear when we came in,” she said.

“Something must’ve disturbed it.” Trails shook her head, glancing out a shattered window. “Who knows? There’s all kinds of monsters in this damned place.”

A chill ran down Twilight’s spine. Monsters? Besides the changelings?

“Ye got a plan, Sabre?” Flint asked. “We got drones comin’ in, and I don’t think that queen’ll be too long.” The room began to flash as he started firing his repeater out the window.

Sabre stomped a hoof, pacing back and forth. “Damnit! We’re trapped like rats in a hole here. We’ll just have to hold out, hope the queen gets bored. We can handle drones.”

A trio of drones leapt through the windows as if on cue. Flint tackled the nearest one, crushing it against the wall, while Sabre and Trails quickly dispatched the other two with blade and javelin.

“It’s just a dumb rock!” Rarity said. “We can levitate it out of the way. Come here, Twilight.”

A huge black hoof smashed through the roof, claws scraping against the stone before it pulled back out. More rubble poured down on top of the slab. Outside, the Beast-Queen let loose another hungry scream.

Twilight watched as the three armored ponies each looked up to the new exit, then to each other. Flint cleared his throat. “We do have grapples.”

“What?” Applejack stumbled to her hooves. “Y’all can’t just leave us!”

Sabre shook her head. “We won’t.”

Flint shrugged, leveling his repeater back onto the windows. “Well, alrighty then. Come at me, ya big bugs!”

“Ahhh, what do we do, what do we do?” Twilight said, turning in circles. She could figure this out. She always figured it out. She could save her friends, if she could just solve this problem.

A faint yet deep rumbling reached Twilight’s ears. She flicked them about curiously, uncertain as to whether she was imagining it. The rumbling grew louder and louder, and within seconds it seemed as if it was right next to her, shaking the very ground beneath her hooves.

An overwhelmingly loud roar filled the room, much unlike that of the monstrous changeling queen. This one was deep, and draconian, and Twilight even thought she could hear the thunderous crackling of an inferno beneath it.

Brilliant green fire burst into being outside the building, nearly blinding Twilight as it wreathed the entire street in hungry flames. She stared slack-jawed as a massive purple dragon, at least twice the size of the Beast-Queen, leapt into view.

A fragile hope flared up in Twilight’s chest. “Spike?” It had to be him! The purple scales, the green spines! But no, there was something wrong. His eyes were red and angry, his mouth overflowing with teeth even for a dragon, his body marred by long scars that didn’t seem to have ever finished healing. And the way he moved was completely different. Gone was the waddling gait of the baby dragon she had known. This dragon stood and moved like a wolf, saliva dripping from its jaws as it growled at the changelings that dared to trespass on its territory.

“Oh, Spike.” Twilight choked back a sob as Spike and the Beast-Queen hissed at each other, each one pacing across the street. “What happened?”

“What—is that—Spikey Wikey!” Rarity cried. “What did that monster Chrysalis do?”

“No time for that,” Sabre said, peeking out the window as the dragon charged. The Beast-Queen flew out of the way, jumping onto his back as drones pounced on his legs. “We need to move while they’re distracted. Trails!”

“Right! This way!” Trails didn’t wait for any response, jumping back out the entrance.

Sabre gestured hastily at Twilight and her friends, who were all frozen on the spot, staring with wide eyes at the thing that may have once been their friend. “Get moving!”

Rarity shook herself, her lips tightening. “Let’s go, girls. We need to run, if only so we may return to correct any atrocities that have been committed in our absence.”

“For Spike.” Pinkie said, fresh tears on her cheeks.

“And for the Princess!” Rainbow added, an angry snarl contorting her face.

Applejack let out a heavy sigh as she heaved Fluttershy onto her back once more, and the ponies followed Trails outside. Twilight resisted the urge to look back as Spike and the changelings fought behind them. Before long the sounds of fighting faded into the distance, but still they ran on at full speed. Twilight didn’t even spare a glance when they passed by the broken remains of her old tower. They didn’t stop until they reached a huge black wall, its rough rocky surface gently curving in all directions as far as Twilight could see.

“What is this? This wasn’t here before,” she said.

Flint stepped up behind her, scanning the city with his light. “Lady, I’m gettin’ real tired of yer questions.”

Twilight frowned, but before she could think of a snappy comeback, she saw Trails suddenly stepping out of the wall a small distance away.

“Alright, in here,” Trails said, panting.

Sabre nodded. “We can take it a little easy now. Let’s go.”

Twilight leaned in closer, and realized that there was actually a tunnel carved into the wall. It was only about twice the height of a pony, but wide enough for a couple dozen stallions to walk abreast. It curved at a gentle downslope, its walls smooth and clean.

“Where does this go?” she asked.

“Outside,” Sabre said, following Trails into the tunnel.

“Wha—”

Flint cut off Twilight’s question with an exasperated groan. “Celestia, just go.”

Twilight huffed, walking quickly to catch up to Sabre. “Hey, I have no idea what’s going on, okay? We were in Canterlot during the changelings, and all I remember is being captured and then—and now Spike and—it’s all blank! How could this possibly be happening? This makes no sense!”

Sabre paused, cocking her head as she looked to Twilight. “You were here when the city was alive? Right here?”

Twilight blinked, taken aback by the quiet tone of Sabre’s voice. She let out a nervous little giggle. “Well, uh, not exactly right here at this exact position no, but yes, here in Canterlot. We were.”

Trails and Flint both came to a stop. The three armored ponies exchanged looks. Twilight flicked her tail irritably, wondering if they had some way to see each other’s faces through that armor.

“It’s… hard to explain,” Sabre said, resuming her walk. “It’s best I showed you.”

“Hey!” Rainbow skimmed the top of the tunnel before landing right in front of Sabre. “Listen up! We’ve been through a lot and my friends are all scared and confused. We’re not taking another step until you speak up!”

Twilight raised a cautioning hoof. She was beginning to put the clues together now. Canterlot covered in algae, and a full-grown Spike roaming its ruins? It all pointed in the same direction. “It’s okay, Rainbow,” she said softly. “I… think we should let her explain her way.”

Sabre nodded thankfully to Twilight before stepping around Rainbow. “Let’s move.”

Rainbow’s nostrils flared as she turned to Twilight. “What the hay, Twi? They aren’t telling us anything and you want us to just keep going along!”

Pinkie frowned, looking back towards Canterlot sadly. “Dashie, can we please not fight?”

“I think this is the right thing to do, Rainbow,” Twilight said, fighting to keep her voice calm. Last she remembered, the swarm had still been outside her brother’s shield, yet now there were drones running free inside the city. Had the changelings found a way inside, or had Chrysalis created a new swarm from scratch among the ruins? “Things might be… worse than we think. Just give them a little longer, okay?”

Rarity put a hoof on Rainbow’s shoulder. “Come now, darling, you can trust Twilight. If there’s anypony that can get our questions answered, it’s her.”

Applejack cleared her throat. “I for one would kindly like to keep on movin’.” She let out a wheezy little laugh. “Fluttershy’s a mite heavier’n I thought.”

A round of subdued giggles passed over the mares, leaving the air feeling noticeably lighter.

“Alright then.” Rainbow took a begrudging step aside. “But you may have to hold me back if they keep this up!”

Twilight rolled her eyes as she started after the armored ponies, her friends walking beside her. Her mind jumped from one terrifying possibility to the next, pausing only to briefly linger on Spike before moving on. She took a shaky breath before finding some small solace in her friends’ presence.

The journey through the tunnel was longer than Twilight had anticipated, becoming harder as it continued to slope down at a sharper and sharper angle. The air was stuffy and stale, and even though she couldn’t see the other side of the tunnel, it still seemed to press in on her with nothing but her horn and her escorts’ flashlights to drive the darkness away. Just as she had started to calculate exactly how deep they’d traveled, she heard the sound of water up ahead.

“Almost there,” Trails said.

“And without any salvage,” Flint grumbled.

Twilight arched a brow at that, but said nothing. Within a few minutes the ponies came to the source of the water, a deep pool at the end of the tunnel. She peered into the darkness around her, but saw no sign of any other exit. This was where the tunnel ended.

Bobbing gently on the shore was a boat, though it seemed far too small to carry even three ponies. She wondered how it had gotten there; there wasn’t any sign of a stream leading into or out of the pool.

“Get in,” Sabre said, beckoning towards the boat. Trails and Flint approached first, opening a small hatch in the center of the boat and climbing down inside.

Twilight blinked. What kind of weird boat was this, with a tiny hatch on top and the rest of it sunk underwater?

“It’s a submarine,” Sabre explained. “You seen one before?”

“Submarine?” Twilight repeated. She hadn’t seen one before, no, but the word did a good job of explaining the concept. “This boat goes underwater?”

Sabre just nodded.

Rainbow flew up a little higher, flapping excitedly. “Oh, that sounds so cool! Me first!” She immediately burst forward and dived into the hatch.

Applejack let out a heavy sigh. “Finally, some rest. Y’all mind taking Fluttershy here for me, Twilight?”

“Sure,” Twilight said. Her horn glowed as she gently wrapped Fluttershy in her magic and levitated her to her side. She noticed Sabre watching the unconscious pegasus intently, but didn’t bring it up.

After lowering Fluttershy down into Rainbow’s waiting hooves, Twilight climbed down the ladder which lined one side of the hatch. She looked around curiously as she came out into the cramped interior of the submarine, thankful for the distraction. Little dials and meters lined many of the walls, and the sound of gears ticking echoed up and down the narrow halls.

Sea Sabre entered last, closing the hatch securely behind her before squeezing her way towards the front of the ship. “Come with me if you want answers.”

Flint shrugged, looking to Trails. “Ready fer a spot of R&R?”

“You bet. The suit’s starting to really chafe on my neck.” She followed him towards the back of the ship, her voice fading away.

Twilight followed after Sabre with her friends close behind her. They packed themselves into what Twilight took to be the bridge of the vessel, if the large number of flips, switches, and wheels were any indication.

Sabre settled heavily into the seat at the front of the bridge before the thick bubble of glass that served as a viewport. She reached up and grabbed her helmet with both hooves, giving it a quick twist. There was a brief hissing as she removed her helmet, revealing her sea blue coat and short grey mane, a single white stripe running its length. She leaned back and looked at Twilight and each of her friends with pale red eyes.

“You may want to prepare yourselves.” As commanding as she’d been before, Sea Sabre’s voice was even more stony without the helmet in the way. It was deep for a mare, and it didn’t tolerate dissent.

Twilight gulped nervously, looking to her friends with a weak smile. She had the feeling that nothing she did would properly prepare her. “We’re ready.”

Sabre nodded, turning to the controls. She flipped a series of switches and began to manipulate the wheels which dominated the control panel with her wings. The ticking of the ship grew faster and louder, and there was the muffled hiss of steam escaping as the submarine rocked into motion.

“Things have—” She paused. “—changed since your Canterlot.” The submarine sank deeper into the pool, and the rock walls disappeared as they dropped out of the bottom of the tunnel. Beneath them Twilight saw old bricks that had been worn down almost completely spherical, half-buried in the sand.

“We don’t really live on the surface anymore.” Within a few minutes the sea floor dropped down abruptly, leaving them in what appeared to be open ocean. The submarine began to rise, rotating in a slow one-eighty.

“There’s a corruption down here. It warps things, makes them violent and wild. It’s not safe.” They continued to rise, further than Twilight thought possible. The tunnel hadn’t gone down this deep, had it? Even the wildest ballpark estimate she’d made didn’t go this deep. She frowned thoughtfully as an underwater mountain came into view. It looked vaguely familiar to her. She turned to her friends, seeing the same confused recognition in their eyes.

“The world you know is completely underwater. It’s been that way for hundreds of years.” Twilight saw some light filtering down from above as they drew closer to the surface. Her jaw dropped as she finally realized where she recognized the mountain from. Her chest tightened and her legs went rigid as her breathing began to speed up.

“No,” she whispered.

Finally the submarine reached the surface, bobbing gently as it was carried by the waves. Before her, Twilight saw the narrow peak of Canterhorn Mountain, just barely poking out of the water with enough room for a pony to stand on. The tallest mountain in Equestria.

She turned and ran, climbing up the hatch and forcing it open. She couldn’t breathe in the tight little sub. She needed fresh air. She needed space.

Twilight climbed out onto the open deck of the submarine, squinting against the salty gust of wind that blew into her face. She turned and turned, completely around, but all she saw was water. There was no land. No land to be seen in any direction. Just endless water.

She heard armored hooves climbing up the hatch behind her. Sea Sabre cleared her throat, taking a deep breath.

“Welcome to the future.”

Author's Note

And... cut to black!

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II: The Argo

She’d never seen so much water before.

Twilight stood in silence on the deck of the submarine, staring out at the empty horizon. The steady rocking of the ship and the constant ticking of its clockwork machinery did wonders to calm her mind.

She shivered as a wave broke against the ship’s hull, the water sloshing around her hooves before it slipped back into the ocean. A deep breath of sea air filled her lungs as she closed her eyes.

It was far easier to think here, without changelings leaping for her throat from the shadows and frantic commands ringing in her ears. There’s no need to panic, Twilight, she thought. Just ask to see the Princess. She’ll fix everything. Just stay calm.

“Hey, Twilight!”

Twilight opened her eyes, looking back to see Rainbow’s head poking up from the hatch.

“C’mon here. Sabre wants to talk to us all!”

Twilight smiled. “I’ll be right there, Rainbow.” She turned around, walking down the narrow, railed deck. Surely Sea Sabre knew where Princess Celestia was!

A breath of steam rushed past Twilight’s face as she climbed down into the confines of the submarine. It was a small vessel, and as far as she could tell, designed for a small crew. Star Trails and Flintlock had remained in the rear of the vessel, while Twilight’s friends had squeezed themselves into the relatively spacious cargo hold just rear of the hatch.

She went there now, seeing her friends waiting for her amongst the sparse spread of riveted metal crates. Fluttershy, still unconscious, had been lain gingerly across a longer, rectangular crate, her head resting on a folded up towel.

Twilight stepped up to Fluttershy’s side, glancing to her friends. “She still hasn’t woken up?”

Rarity shook her head, frowning. “I don’t know, dear. There hasn’t been a peep from her since we came to this wretched place.”

“She’ll be fine,” Applejack said, tipping her hat back. “She might not act it, but ’Shy’s tough. Ain’t no need to worry ’bout her.”

Twilight looked up to see Sea Sabre enter the room, now wearing a plain, gray-green tunic instead of her armor. A cutie mark of a scimitar with a curving trail of water adorned her flank. “We have a doctor back home that can look at your friend. He’s on the way here,” she said.

“Back home, huh?” Rainbow asked skeptically. “And where’s that, exactly?”

“Heighton,” Sabre said. “Our ride will be here soon enough.”

“Oh, great!” Twilight said, clapping her hooves together. Just a little while longer and she’d know what to do! “When can we see the Princess?”

Sabre arched a brow, looking between the six mares curiously. “The Princess? You want to see the Princess?”

“Uh, yes.” Twilight giggled nervously, taken off guard by the mare’s tone. “I’m sure she’ll be excited to see me again. I’m her most faithful student, after all.”

Sabre let out a thoughtful little grunt. “Miss—”

“Call me Twilight, please.”

Sabre sighed. “Okay then, Twilight... do you know what year it is?”

There was a time when Twilight had loved answering that question. After the redemption of Princess Luna, Celestia had decreed a new calendar: Anno Lunae, and Twilight practically burst from excitement everytime she wrote the date. She was alive in Year One, Anno Lunae! It had felt like being a famous pony from some ancient history book, writing letters and dating the year with a single digit. She had lived history!

But this was different. The way that Sabre had asked the question made Twilight’s blood run cold. Suddenly being ancient history didn’t feel like fun anymore. And as much as she might hope that no time had passed since her brother’s wedding ceremony, everything she’d seen since waking up in that hideous cocoon indicated otherwise.

Slowly, Twilight shook her head. “Uhh… no…?”

Sabre gave a little nod, pursing her lips thoughtfully. She cleared her throat, speaking firmly. “Well, Miss Twilight, it’s currently 673, Anno Caeli. The Princesses have been dead for over a thousand years.”

Exclamations of shock and grief passed over the room. Rainbow Dash sat down heavily, brow furrowed as she began to stutter out whispered denials. Pinkie Pie choked back sobs as her mane deflated, while Rarity fell to the floor with a high-pitched keen. Applejack simply closed her eyes and turned her face up to the roof in silence.

Twilight smiled. She leaned in a little closer. “I’m sorry, I think I must have misheard you.”

Sea Sabre leaned back as Twilight came closer. She quirked a brow. “You didn’t. The Princesses are dead.”

“Ahaha, no that can’t be right.” Twilight waved a hoof dismissively. A small corner of her mind wondered why the new calendar translated to ‘Year of the Sky’. Why was it getting so hard to breathe? “Princesses don’t die! I know that Princess Celestia wouldn’t leave me.”

A choked breath escaped her lips as Sabre grabbed her shoulder.

“Twilight.”

Warm tears raced down Twilight’s cheeks. She frowned as an ear began to twitch uncontrollably. Why was she crying? There was nothing to be sad about. Everything was fine. Everything is fine.

“The Princesses are dead,” Sea Sabre said. “They watch over us from above, now.”

It was like she was drowning all over again. Twilight braced herself against a crate as her hooves turned to jelly. The Princesses are dead. Nope! Everything was fine, she was the most faithful student. Princess Celestia has left you. That wasn’t possible. Not possible! Princess Celestia had always been there, would always be there. It was just another test! You are all alone.

What was she doing on the floor? The metal was so cold and hard, and yet it still rocked side to side with the waves. Her whole world had been cast adrift in far too many ways. What do I do now, Princess?

She was vaguely aware of Sea Sabre walking away. She squeezed her eyes shut as hard as she could. Wake up. Please wake up.

A shadow passed over her. Twilight opened her eyes, wiping away the blurriness.

Applejack was standing over her, the brim of her hat pulled down low and casting a deep shadow over her face. Another powerful sob racked Twilight’s body as Applejack pulled her into a gentle hug.

Applejack laid down at her side, pushing her hat up. For a moment, Twilight almost thought she’d been crying. “We’re all hurtin’ now, Twilight, but that doesn’t mean we can all just fall over and feel sorry for ourselves. Somethin’s gone awful wrong somewhere, and way I figure it, well… if we don’t fix it, then who will?”

“I don’t know,” Twilight whispered hoarsely.

Applejack nodded. She ran a hoof through Twilight’s mane thoughtfully. “Well, I ain’t much for waitin’ around when there’s a job to be done. Only issue is, I don’t really know where to start or where we’re goin’.”

Twilight looked up, meeting Applejack’s steady gaze. She knew that Applejack was right, even if she didn’t want to believe it. Something had come to destroy her world, and the Elements of Harmony hadn’t been there to stop it. They hadn’t been there to stop it. Whatever it was, the Princesses hadn’t survived the transition, but there were still ponies here, somehow eking out an existence.

Slowly Twilight climbed back to her hooves, looking at her friends around her. She saw Rainbow Dash’s gaze hardening as her wings quivered furiously, and Pinkie Pie staring blankly out the small curved porthole in the wall. She saw Rarity picking herself up from the floor, and Fluttershy unconscious. And then Applejack, waiting patiently before her.

Applejack cleared her throat. “We kinda need y’all right now, Twilight.”

They need me. Twilight couldn’t afford to break down. The Elements of Harmony could fix things, but they didn’t know how yet. It was a problem, a test, another question that had to be answered, and if there was anypony left in the world that could solve it, it would be her. It had to be her.

Twilight gave a weak nod. She wiped the rest of her tears away. “I… I need… a library.”

Applejack smiled, pulling Twilight in for a hug. “That’s my gal.” She paused, and Twilight felt her looking around. “Heck if I know where to find a library, though.”

Twilight let out a little giggle as she choked back another sob. The Princesses may be gone, but she wasn’t alone. She had her friends.

Twilight tore herself free from Applejack’s embrace. She turned to the rest of her friends, taking a deep breath.

“Girls…” Her voice broke as the rest of her friends turned to her with red eyes. She cleared her throat. “I know that—that it feels like the world’s come to an end, and like we’ve all lost everything, but… we still have each other.” Her voice grew a little firmer. She straightened up, locking eyes with each of her friends in turn. “We still have each other, and Equestria needs us. We can still… fix things. I know that we can. But I need you all to stay with me, okay?”

Rainbow Dash fluttered her wings angrily, rising a few inches off the ground. “Don’t worry about me, Twilight,” she snarled. “I’m not resting until whatever—or whoever did this pays for it.”

Pinkie Pie looked up to the ceiling, sniffling. “You’re right, Twilight. Even if some really bad things have happened… we can’t let it keep us down.”

Rarity tossed her disheveled mane, rearranging her haphazard curls gently with her hooves. “But whatever do we do, Twilight? We don’t know the first thing about this new Equestria, who knows what we’ll find out there, and the—the Princesses—!”

Twilight raised a hoof, stopping Rarity before she could work herself up again. “Let me worry about that, okay? We’ll ask our…” She paused, tapping a hoof against her chin as she considered her word choice. “Ask our rescuers to direct us to the nearest library once we get to this ‘Heighton,’ and we’ll go from there. Sound good?”

Twilight smiled as she saw her friends nodding around her. She had to stay strong, to look strong, even if she could still feel her hooves trembling and every glance out the window made her chest tighten. She just had to keep it together until she reached a library, and then she could lose herself in the hefty task that was researching how to save the world.

Pinkie Pie cocked her head, pointing a hoof towards the far window. “Hey, what’s that?”

Twilight turned, catching sight of a small grey object floating above the waves in the distance. She narrowed her eyes at it, but the thing was too far away for her to make out any details.

Star Trails and Flintlock stepped into the cargo room, sporting the same gray-green tunics that Twilight had seen Sea Sabre wearing. Flint walked through the room without acknowledging the mares, while Trails sat down and gave a little wave with a pale blue hoof. Her navy blue mane hung down just enough to tickle at her shoulders, framing curious green eyes.

Trails frowned, looking between the mares. “Uh, you ladies okay?”

Twilight cleared the hoarseness from her throat and offered up a little smile. “We’re fine. Is something happening?”

Trails raised a brow skeptically. “In fact there is. Our ship is nearly here. We’re all heading up top to board.”

Rainbow Dash frowned as she looked out the window at the grey dot. “Uhh… I thought this was your ship?”

“Heh, no. This is our sub, for our dives. She’s tough, but painfully slow for actually getting anywhere. That—” Trails nodded towards the dot, which was quickly growing larger. “Is the Argo. That’s how we get to and from our dives.”

Argo? Twilight recognized the name easily. It was from an old Pegasopolis myth. She felt some small relief at the knowledge that ponykind still knew the name. She’d been worried that much of its history might have been lost.

“Is it some kind of airship?” Twilight asked.

Trails grinned. “That’s right. Have you seen one before?”

“I’ve read some books on the subject.” Twilight actually hadn’t seen a functioning airship in person before, as the technology had only become viable after she’d left for Ponyville. Even then, airships had been little more than regular sea ships clumsily attached to balloons for the most elite of Canterlot high society to parade about.

Rarity gave a polite little cough and waved a hoof. “I’ve actually enjoyed a few airship parties, myself.”

“Huh, we had airships way back then? Cool.” Trails started down the hall towards the hatch. “Let’s go.”

Twilight beckoned to her friends with a nod of her head. After waiting for Applejack to hoist Fluttershy onto her back, the mares squeezed their way towards the hatch. Twilight picked up on a low buzzing in the background, almost imperceptible beneath the clockwork mechanics of the submarine at first, but rapidly growing louder. By the time Twilight began climbing up the hatch, the buzz had become a full-blown roar which threatened to overcome her very thoughts.

A heavy gust of salty sea air blew into her face as Twilight pulled herself out of the hatch. She raised a hoof to her eyes defensively, squinting into the wind as her friends climbed up behind her.

The distant grey speck had crossed an alarming distance since she’d first spotted it, and the Argo now cast a long shadow over the ponies waiting on the submarine. The Argo’s long, slender shape was attached via thick cables beneath a rigid balloon. A single huge propeller on the rear of the gondola pushed the ship forwards, and Twilight could see a series of small ailerons lining the top and sides of the balloon, the ship rotating clockwise as they turned.

As it came closer, Twilight saw that the chassis of the Argo had a strange, elongated ring shape to it, with an open space in the middle. The ship came to a stop directly above the submarine before beginning to lose altitude. Gently, it lowered itself down, the bottom of the chassis dipping into the waves as it surrounded the submarine.

Twilight flattened her ears against her head in a vain attempt to shut out the roar of the airship’s engine. The submarine rocked side to side as the propeller began to kick the waves up higher. There was a barely perceptible hiss of steam, and then a vibration which Twilight felt in her hooves. The rocking of the submarine came to an abrupt stop.

The movement returned as suddenly as it had stopped, but now the submarine was actually rising. Twilight instinctively lowered her stance at the unexpected motion. Looking around, she saw her friends following suit, while their rescuers simply held on to the railing.

The water ran off the deck of the ship for the last time as it rose out of the sea. A pair of metal ramps fell down onto each side of the submarine, clamping onto the railings with thick hooks as a trio of steps unfolded from each one.

Twilight felt a hoof tapping on her shoulder. She turned to see Sabre talking to her, but couldn’t understand her over the din of the engines.

“What?” Twilight yelled. She could barely even hear herself.

Sabre came closer, cupping a hoof to her ear and speaking directly into it. “Follow me! Careful with the edge!”

Twilight gave an exaggerated nod as Sabre pulled back. She made eye contact with each of her friends in turn, beckoning for them to follow.

Sabre climbed the stairs to the port ramp, striding confidently across and to the hatch on the other side.

The wind whipped at Twilight’s mane as she gingerly clambered up the steps. She looked down and—whendidwegetsohigh?!

The world began to rock. Twilight’s entire body went tight as she hugged the cold steel, eyes squeezed shut. They had been in the water just a minute ago and now they were floating at least a couple dozen meters up!

A hoof nudged at her impatiently. Cracking an eye open, Twilight saw Sea Sabre standing before her, leaning halfway out of the open hatch. With a deep breath, Twilight willed the world to stop swaying, and all at once she pushed herself the rest of the way up the ramp and barreled through the hatch.

Sea Sabre stood over her, one corner of her lips ever so slightly pulled up in a smile. “You afraid of heights?” The roar of the engine had been reduced to a muffled drone now, and beneath it Twilight could hear the same quiet ticking that had filled the submarine.

Twilight nodded breathlessly, thankful to be on some relatively solid ground. Even if the floor continued to sway slightly beneath her, at least now she didn’t feel like a single false move would spell her doom.

Sabre grunted thoughtfully. “You might want to work on that.”

Rainbow Dash glided through the hatch next, looking around with wide eyes. “Whoa, what is this thing?”

Trails stepped through behind her. “This is the Argo. She takes us to our dive sites and back home and wherever else we need to go.” She ran a hoof along the riveted steel wall lovingly. “Pretty great ship.”

A flood of questions popped up in Twilight’s mind as she examined the interior of the ship. They seemed to be in a wide hall of riveted steel, with one door on each end and the hatch she’d come through in the middle of one side. Wooden crates and barrels were shoved up against the walls haphazardly, and pipes of all sizes ran the length of the ceiling, with even more half-hidden beneath the metal grating she stood upon. The pale white lights which lined the corners did a poor job of illuminating them, but Twilight could see many of the larger pipes were adorned with small gauges. She peered closer at one above her, flinching back as it suddenly released a torrent of steam. She’d never seen anything like it.

Rarity entered next, fussing with her freshly windblown mane. “And a dirty one, too! Oh, this is nothing like the ships they have in Canterlot! Is there a shower onboard?” She drew a hoof back from her mane, lip curling at the green fluid which clung to her coat.

Twilight watched Pinkie Pie carefully as she came into the hall, grimacing at the pink mare’s near-flat mane and downcast eyes, but she didn’t have time to consider it further.

“Showers can come later,” Sabre said. “Let’s get you all settled first.”

Applejack let out a hefty sigh as she carried Fluttershy inside. “Y’all… y’all mentioned a doctor?”

Sabre nodded. “Come with me.”

Twilight followed Sea Sabre down towards the aft door, marveling as it opened itself when they drew near. She didn’t pick up on any magical enchantments, but she did see gears ticking away within the frame. Is this whole ship… mechanical? Glancing back, she saw Flint and Trails leaving through the opposite door.

Sabre led Twilight and her friends into another hall, this one curving towards the opposite side of the ship and lined with doors. She came to a stop before the largest, a sturdy double-door which vented steam as it opened, and beckoned them inside.

Twilight found herself in a larger room almost completely bereft of decoration or content. Bright lamps set into the ceiling cast stark shadows against the small collection of pony-sized crates huddled in one corner. The hum of the engine was louder here, and she could even feel the floor vibrating beneath her.

“Stay here,” Sea Sabre said. “I’ll go get our doctor.” She stepped back into the hall and out of sight, the door closing behind her with another burst of steam.

Twilight turned back to her friends, taking her place in the loose circle they had formed in the middle of the room.

Applejack glanced about uncertainly. “I hope this ain’t what she meant by ‘get settled.’ It’s all hard places!” She shifted Fluttershy’s position on her back.

Rainbow Dash flew up a little higher and scanned the room with a lazy spin. “Do they not have beds in the future or something?”

“I don’t think they were expecting to find us,” Twilight said. She walked up to the wall where one of the metal plates had been removed, leaning closer to the clockwork machinery within. “Flint said something about looking for salvage.”

She heard Rarity scoffing behind her. “Salvage? There was nothing back there but a bunch of rubble!” Her voice began to quiver, and Twilight imagined her raising a hoof to her forehead dramatically. “All of those beautiful tapestries…”

Twilight cocked her head, brow furrowing as she inspected the guts of the ship. Even in just the small area visible to her she could see half a dozen gears interlocking, ticking away in service of some indistinguishable purpose. She found herself wondering what it was that drove all the gears. It couldn’t be magic—she hadn’t sensed even the slightest enchantments anywhere aboard the Argo—but Twilight couldn’t muster any other means of deriving the necessary energy.

“Hey, do you guys hear that?” Rainbow asked.

“Oh, it sounds like somepony’s coming,” Rarity said.

Applejack took a deep breath through clenched teeth. “They better be bringin’ a bed with ’em.”

Twilight’s ears flicked at the sound of two sets of hoofsteps approaching from out in the hall. She turned away from the machinery, watching the door expectantly as it vented steam. The voice of an irritable stallion drifted into the room as the door opened.

“I can’t believe you’re going along with this charade,” the voice said. “It’s unlike you, Sabre! Did Trails put you up to it? You know you could just tell me if you didn’t bring anything back up, it’s not a matter of who was right or—”

The voice cut off abruptly as the stallion stepped into view. The mug he’d been holding in one hoof dropped to the floor and shattered loudly as his jaw dropped.

Sea Sabre came into view behind him. “But for the record, Dusty, I was right.”

Twilight shifted about uncomfortably as Dusty eyed her and her friends with wide, bespectacled eyes. He visibly swallowed, pulling his glasses off with a hoof and rubbing some invisible filth away before placing them back on his muzzle. His horn gave off a glow so faint that Twilight almost didn’t notice it, and she saw him magically draw his old brown jacket tighter.

“You—Sea Sabre!” Dusty exclaimed, still staring. “You f-found these—them—in there?”

“Hey, don’t talk about us like we’re not here!” Rainbow said.

Applejack looked between Dusty and Sabre, narrowing her eyes. “Is that the doctor y’all talked about? And did ya bring a gosh-darn bed?”

Dusty ignored the comments, instead walking straight up to Rarity and reaching a hoof up towards her mane. “Who are you?”

Rarity stepped back gingerly and offered up a polite little smile. “My name is Rarity, pleasure to meet you. And you are?”

Dusty swept past her, his eyes drifting over each of the assembled mares before finally coming to rest on Twilight’s flank. “Sweet Celestia!” He looked to each of her friend’s cutie marks in turn. “And they’re all Gifted!”

Twilight’s ears perked up at the way he said the last word, as if it meant something significant. Resisting the urge to ask about it, she instead rose a hoof and asked, “Are you the doctor? Our friend still hasn’t woken up and we really need your help with her.”

Dusty turned back to Sabre. “You found six Gifted in those ruins?”

“Dusty Tome!” Sabre barked, startling Twilight and snapping the stallion out of his daze. “Tend to the yellow one!”

Dusty jumped, adjusting his glasses with a hoof. His eyes alighted on Fluttershy as if for the first time. “Oh, yes, sorry.” He trotted up to Applejack’s side, sliding out of his saddlebags and leaving them at his hooves.

Applejack cleared her throat intently. “Hahem. Y’all got a bed or somethin’ I can lay her down on?”

“No, no, that’s quite alright,” Dusty said. He fished about in his bags with a hoof, pulling out a stethoscope and laying it on Fluttershy’s chest. After a few moments he hummed thoughtfully, placing the stethoscope back into his bag. “Well, a cursory inspection shows no damage… are you sure she isn’t just sleeping?”

Rainbow Dash crossed her hooves. “Sleeping?” she deadpanned.

Pinkie Pie spoke up from the corner she’d been sitting in, peering around her mane. “We were just chased through the super creepy ruins of what used to be the biggest city in the world by a horde of freaky mutant changelings, and you think she’s been sleeping?!” Her voice rose suddenly with the last word, and she began to advance on Dusty Tome. “What kind of doctor are you?!” she yelled. “She’s not sleeping, she isn’t okay, and you need to fix her!”

Twilight flinched back at the sudden outburst. Pinkie Pie was now face-to-face with a very shocked Dusty, her chest heaving and her face almost completely hidden behind her mane. Wow.

Dusty’s eyes darted side to side. A nervous little chuckle escaped his lips. “Yes, uh, of course! Just, uh, right this way! I have a clinic onboard—uh, this way—as it were…” His voice trailed off into unintelligible mumbles as he ducked out into the hall.

As one, Twilight and her friends made to follow. Sea Sabre frowned, raising a hoof. “Do you all need to go? The clinic isn’t that large.” She looked to Rarity. “Didn’t you want a shower or something?”

“That’s quite alright, dear,” Rarity said as she walked past. “I could hardly enjoy it if I didn’t know if Fluttershy was okay.”

Rainbow Dash swooped out of the room, followed shortly by Applejack with her head and tail drooping. Pinkie Pie stalked past Sabre with a flick of her tail, and Twilight came up last, stopping next to Sea Sabre.

“Thank you,” she said, dipping her head. “For getting us out of there, and for the help with our friend.”

Sabre gave a curt nod. “You probably don’t want to fall behind.”

“Right, of course. It’s just...” Twilight gestured with a hoof at the ship around her. “Once we have time, I’d really like to sit down and talk. I—we—have a lot of questions.”

“Heh.” Sabre began to walk away, down to the opposite end of the curving hall. “Don’t you worry, miss. I’m sure we’ll all have more.”

Twilight watched in silence as Sabre stepped out of sight, lingering for just a moment before trotting down the path her friends had taken. A passing porthole treated her to the sight of an infinite ocean of water. How could this have possibly come to be? The last thing she could remember clearly was Chrysalis revealing herself at her brother’s wedding, and Princess Celestia rising to challenge her. Everything after that was… hazy. Glimpses of running and panic, flashes of light and sudden darkness. And now here she was, who-knew-how-many years in the future, in a strange ship surrounded by strange ponies. Canterlot was in ruins, the Princesses were… gone. She didn’t even want to think about what might have happened to Spike, and the whole world was—well—underwater.

Even now, the experience was so surreal that Twilight still reserved some hope of it all being some crazy nightmare. That she would wake up warm and safe under her sheets with Spike at her side, and her biggest worry would be her post-wedding hangover.

But as much as Twilight might hope, she knew that it wasn’t a dream. She couldn’t hide behind the hope that it was.

She passed another pair of doors before arriving at the end of the curved hall. Once again she watched with wide-eyed amazement as the door vented steam and opened itself, with no interaction from her whatsoever. Catching sight of her friends, Twilight picked up the pace, crossing the threshold into a skinny hall much like the one she had first entered the Argo in. She caught up to the group just as they passed through the door at the far end of the hall, coming out into another wider, curved hallway.

Twilight found herself following behind Pinkie Pie. She watched the pink mare in an anxious silence, unsure of what—or even if—she should say. She’d seen Pinkie like this only once before, when she’d forgotten about her own birthday, but somehow Twilight got the sense that this time it was… worse.

Dusty led them up a flight of stairs which led into a wide, straight hall that Twilight figured to run down the middle of the ship, just under the balloon. Many of the doors here were made of plain wood, though she did pick out one of the strange mechanical doors at each end of the hall.

Dusty Tome shot a nervous grimace back at the following mares as he opened the nearest wooden door. The ponies filed into the room one-by-one, with Twilight just barely having space to squeeze in herself.

There was scarcely any standing space left in the clinic, which was already cramped enough as it was with the array of equipment shoved up against the walls. Along one side a clean steel counter carried a haphazard array of gleaming metal tools, with the cabinets above it hinting at even more. Twilight’s eye, however, was caught by the selection of instruments along the opposite wall, each one decorated with a dizzying array of gauges labeled in a flowing, fine print. Dusty flicked a switch on the largest such instrument with his hoof, causing the pistons on the back to slowly come alive as it vented steam.

“Okay, uh, lay her down there, please.” Dusty pointed to the bed pushed up against the center of the far wall.

“Finally,” Applejack grumbled. She grunted as she rolled Fluttershy onto the bed, straightening up afterwards with a relieved sigh.

Dusty tugged at a thick rubber collar hanging from the device, pulling out some slack. The collar had a hinge on one side, and he opened it with a quick flick before sliding it into place around Fluttershy’s neck. He grabbed a small bellows attached to the device and pumped it a few times, causing the collar to inflate. The needles in the device’s gauges began to bob up and down as the collar tightened around her neck.

Twilight saw her friends shifting about uneasily as Dusty squinted at the gauges. He tapped a hoof against his chin thoughtfully. “That’s… awful strange,” he muttered.

“Well, what is it?” Rainbow Dash asked, flicking her tail.

“Oh, uh…” Dusty straightened up, flicking on another, smaller instrument. “It’s nothing. Nothing at all.” He began to spin a selection of labeled gears on the side, frowning.

Applejack raised a brow. “Nothin’?”

“Whatever do you mean by that, darling?” Rarity asked, cocking her head sweetly.

“It can’t be nothing,” Twilight said, pointing at Fluttershy. “She’s been unconscious for—for hours! Tell us what it is!”

Dusty jumped, his eyes darting about at the verbal assault. “No, I think you misunderstand! She’s perfectly fine!”

“Well, if she’s perfectly fine, then why is she still so sleepy?” Pinkie demanded.

“I-I’m not sure!” Dusty said. Twilight watched with narrowed eyes as he walked over to one of the cabinets and pulled out a dusty hoof-held device. “She appears to be perfectly fine. It really does look like she’s just sleeping!”

Applejack stared at Dusty flatly. “Sleeping?”

Rainbow Dash fluttered her wings irritably. “There’s no way! She wakes up at the slightest thing!”

“Oh, hang on—ah, maybe…” Dusty scratched his chin thoughtfully as he looked down at the device.

“Spit it out!” Rainbow said.

“It seems that your friend is in some kind of…” Dusty trailed off, waving a hoof in the air before continuing. “Well, she’s perfectly fine, nothing wrong with her—physically, at least. It must be a magical affliction of some sort.”

“Magical?” Twilight’s blood ran cold at the word. Oh, no no no no! Is it some kind of a hex? Maybe a jinx or—ahhhhh when was the last time I read about arcane maledictions?! I’m not prepared, I need a library, I need to study—

“There’s no need to panic.” Dusty raised his hooves calmingly. “She’s perfectly safe, just… sleeping, as far as I can tell. If she isn’t waking up, then the problem must be of a magical nature, but it doesn’t seem to have actually harmed her at all.”

Twilight closed her eyes, forcing herself to take a deep breath and calm her racing heart. So she’s fine. She’s okay.

“Okay, so what’s wrong with her then?” Rainbow asked. “You’re a unicorn, shouldn’t you have some spell or something to figure it out?”

Dusty shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I don’t know how things may have been where you came from, but we don’t have much magic here. I’d be surprised if you could even find a doctor capable of treating it.”

Twilight sat back on her haunches, a wave of relief washing over her. She’d been worried that it might have been something else—perhaps internal bleeding, or a concussion—but magic, that was something she understood. Magic was a problem that she was very well familiar with, a problem that she could solve herself. Fluttershy would be fine.

When she opened her eyes it felt as if some great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Even with everything that had happened, this small relief was a sliver of light in the darkness. All was not lost.

Now she just needed to find a library.

Author's Note

Stay tuned for next time, and see our heroines' arrival in Heighton!

Join the EH Discord!

III: The Mainland

“Ah, this is so exciting!”

Twilight nodded hesitantly at the remark, re-arranging the blank notecards before her yet again. Normally the opportunity to have an extended conversation with a real live pony from the future would’ve filled her to the brim with excitement. Right now, however, the actual circumstances of that future were putting a bit of a damper on her mood.

“So, would it be okay if I went first?” she asked. She was seated at a writing desk in Dusty’s quarters, a thin wooden construction filled out with equally thin metals. The room was just across from the clinic where Fluttershy was resting, and Dusty Tome had brought her here with great haste when she’d mentioned asking some questions. He would have questions too, of course, but Twilight was hopeful that an intellectual discourse would go a long way towards solving the mystery of the future. Or would it be of the past?

“Oh, sure! No problem. I suppose it would make more sense since you are, aheh, our ‘guest,’ I suppose you could say,” Dusty said. He hummed absentmindedly as he shuffled about the small room, searching for something. Twilight wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for, but she didn’t think he had very high hopes of finding it. Dusty’s quarters were very similar to Twilight’s own home—shortly after Rainbow Dash crashed into it. Books and scrolls in distressing states of disrepair were scattered haphazardly across the floor and bed, and the only organization Twilight saw were the two piles shoved up against one corner. The bookshelf itself was completely devoid of books, instead being stocked with various trinkets that looked as if they’d been found at an archaeological dig. The walls were covered with random scribblings and aged maps, except for one bare spot, the lone porthole placed just above the desk.

Twilight was finding it very difficult to focus in such a setting.

Still, she was prepared. She had her emergency notecards—the ones that Pinkie had convinced her to keep stashed in her mane—and she had prepared a small oasis of order on the desktop. She just had to power through this, stay focused and not let the mess distract her. Eyes forward, Twilight!

She cleared her throat, turning towards Dusty just as he bent down to peek under his bed. The movement drew his jacket upwards, treating Twilight to her first sight of his cuti—

“You’re a blank flank?!” she blurted out.

Twilight slapped her hooves over her mouth, cursing her idiocy.

Dusty jumped, smacking his head against the bedframe as he pulled out from beneath it. He hastily pulled his jacket down with a hoof, ears drooping. “Well yes, of course I am! Everypony is!”

Twilight raised a hoof. “But you’re the only blank flank I’ve seen so far.”

Dusty scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Well, I’m the only non-Gifted on the ship, alright? I don’t know how common they were in your time, but they’re not even one-in-a-hundred today.”

Twilight’s study instincts kicked in. Her horn glowed as her quill began to scratch across her first notecard. “What do you mean by Gifted?”

“Well—ah! Found it!” Dusty’s ears perked back up as he peered behind the map pinned above his bed. He reached a hoof behind it and pulled out a notepad and pen. “The Gifted are ponies born with special talents and magic. They’re almost supernaturally good at whatever their talent may be, and as they grow older they begin to manifest different powers based on their race. Y’know, flying, telekinesis, a spell or two, strength and endurance. Around puberty they usually gain these ‘cutie marks,’ as they call them, and that usually shows them the path they’ll tread in life.” He sighed, plopping down onto his bed. “And then they go on to live lives of adventure or riches or what have you, while the rest of us sit and watch.”

Twilight frowned, looking out the porthole. “So only a few ponies have cutie marks?”

“That’s right,” Dusty said. “I saw that you and your friends are Gifted. I admit I didn’t believe it when Sabre transmitted the report for the dive… six living ponies! And Gifted, at that!”

Twilight shook her head in wonder. “In my time, everypony had cutie marks. We didn’t have any special class of ‘Gifted’ ponies.” What could have caused that to start? I’ve never even heard of an adult pony who never got their cutie mark.

“Really?” Now it was Dusty’s turn to start taking notes. He laid the notepad flat on his bed, scribbling excitedly. “So—so all your pegasi could fly? Control the weather? And your unicorns all had spells? Oh! What spells can you do?”

Twilight flinched back from the sudden onslaught of questions. “Uhh, yes to all of those. And I can do, well, pretty much any spell I come across.”

Dusty’s jaw dropped. “What?! Unicorns in your time could cast any spell they wanted? Even our Gifted only have one or two!”

Twilight shied away, looking down to her notecard. “Well, not exactly. Our unicorns only have—uh, had a few spells too, but my talent is magic, so I can cast anything.” She looked back up and offered a little smile. “If I study hard enough.”

“Wow.” Dusty shook his head in disbelief. He fell back onto the bed, letting his notepad drop to the floor and slide under the bookshelf. “Incredible.”

The room fell silent as Dusty continued to stare up at the ceiling. Twilight looked out the porthole and was surprised to see what looked to be an isolated plateau peeking over the horizon.

“Hey, what’s that?” she asked.

“What?” Dusty jolted as if from a trance. He looked up, seeing Twilight’s pointing hoof, and rolled off the bed before ambling over to the porthole. “Oh, that’s Heighton! We’re nearly there.”

Twilight cocked her head, watching as Heighton continued to grow larger. She didn’t recognize the landmass, and even though her memory of the Equestrian map was a little hazy, she was fairly certain that there wasn’t anything taller than Canterhorn Mountain. And yet the Canterhorn was almost entirely submerged, and here was an entire plateau that seemed to rise far above it. She readied her quill. “Tell me about it.”

Dusty reached a hoof under the desk and pulled out a scroll. He pulled the string loose with his teeth before setting the open scroll down on the desk. “Heighton is the largest city-island in the north, with a population a little under thirty thousand. It serves as a trade hub between many of the smaller islands and the baron-islands, and it’s also where our salvage company is based out of. See? Here’s our place.”

Twilight curiously looked down at the scroll. It looked like a map of some kind of archipelago, though the spread of the islands was unlike any she’d seen before. It looked almost like a comet trail, with the largest island on the western edge and a full crescent of gradually smaller islands east of it. Especially strange were the numbers listed next to each island, which looked to be measures of distance ranging anywhere from several hundred meters to a full five kilometers, but she couldn’t discern their meaning. They couldn’t be measures of land mass—they weren’t squared—and they didn’t seem proportional to the diameter of the islands either.

Dusty’s hoof was pointing towards one of the smallest islands, almost all the way to the eastern edge of the map. It was circled in faded red ink, with a small ‘2,810m’ printed next to it.

Twilight looked back up to the porthole, seeing the plateau move out of sight as the ship turned. “Salvage company?”

Dusty’s hoof tapped against the engraving on the top of the desk. “That’s right! Long Salvage Inc. is the greatest deep-dive excavation team in Heighton, and probably the best in the region, too! We go down to the old world where nopony else will go and dig up valuable resources, artifacts, and, uh—well, I guess ponies now, too.”

Twilight ran a hoof over the engraving thoughtfully. That explained why Flint had kept on talking about ‘salvage,’ at least. They’d gone down into Canterlot in the hopes of digging up some relics from the old world. And I suppose they succeeded, didn’t they?

There was something nagging at her, at the back of her mind, but she couldn’t quite grasp it clearly. She stood up, turning to Dusty. “Are there forwards-facing windows on this ship?”

Dusty nodded, pointing towards what Twilight had reasoned to be the front of the ship, opposite the propellers. “Head for the flight room. The rest of the crew is probably in there right now, watching the approach. It’s straight down the hall, the door right in the middle.”

Twilight gave Dusty a brief dip of her head. “Alright, thanks. It was good talking to you, and I hope we get to resume this conversation soon.”

Dusty Tome responded with a wide, sincere smile. “Me too, Twilight.”

With that, Twilight stepped out into the hall. Sunlight streamed in through the portholes which lined the front part of the hall, the rays filtering through the occasional burst of steam from its pipes. She made a quick stop to poke her head into the clinic and was pleased to see Fluttershy still sleeping soundly. She saw Rainbow Dash there as well, awkwardly curled up on the floor as she snored loudly. Her other friends had been content to get some rest in the cargo hold that they’d been stationed in, but Rainbow had refused to leave Fluttershy’s side.

Satisfied, Twilight resumed her journey to the flight room. The hall widened just beyond the stairs from the lower level, ending in another one of the automatic mechanical doors.

The door hissed as it opened, and Twilight stepped through the haze of steam into a wide room dominated by two walls of gauges, wheels, chains, and levers. At the far end of the room was a solid wall of thick, curved glass, giving a clear view of the world before the Argo. Sea Sabre, Flintlock, and Star Trails were scattered lazily about the back of the room, watching the horizon. An aged pegasus mare stood on a raised dais at the front, surrounded by levers and a low wall of gauges.

Trails looked up as Twilight entered. “Oh, you eggheads done already?”

Twilight glanced askance at Trails, but chose to ignore her word choice. Not like I wasn’t used to it. “For now, yes. I came to get a better look at Heighton.”

“Well, there ye go,” Flint said. It was the first time Twilight had gotten a good look at him outside of his armor. He had a straight blonde mane, trimmed not as cleanly as Sea Sabre’s but perhaps an inch closer. He raised the mug in his thick, white-coated hoof and gestured towards the horizon. The sunlight glinted in his hard blue eyes. “Heighton in all its glory.”

Twilight cocked her head as she looked out the window. She frowned, furrowing her brow, and rubbed at her eyes before looking again. That… makes no sense.

Earlier, Heighton had looked like a plateau, and while it was difficult to believe that there was a plateau so much taller than the Canterhorn Twilight had been willing to accept it considering that she had no idea how much time had passed in her absence. But now that they were closer, it looked far more like some kind of upside-down mountain, with a flat surface and craggy purple rocks beneath that grew gradually thinner towards the bottom. She couldn’t see the bottom quite yet, but Twilight was absolutely certain that such a landmass couldn’t possibly be stable. Or even possible at all, for that matter.

Then the bottom finally came into view, and Twilight realized that it wasn’t even touching the water.

“Is that floating?” she asked, her voice rising incredulously. She looked to each of the ponies around her and pointed. “That’s not physically possible. It can’t be floating.”

The mare at the front of the room looked back flatly with her cool blue eyes. “Obviously it can, because it is.”

Twilight’s frown grew even deeper at that. What kind of explanation is that? She trotted down one of the shallow staircases that separated the back half of the room from the lowered front half, getting a better look at the mare. She had a light gray coat, and her silver mane and tail were both tied into sloppy buns, though her cutie mark was hidden behind the thick, brown wool robe she wore.

Twilight came to a stop next to the mare. She took a deep breath. “There’s no way that the island is less dense than the surrounding air, unless possibly if it was hollowed out and filled with helium, but the horsepower required for such a task makes it unfeasible, and even then it might not be enough! And any levitation enchantment that might be cast upon it would require a dozen top-tier magi to channel it non-stop, or a similar upkeep of magical energies, which is frankly—”

She stopped as the mare rose a single hoof. “I don’t care what you think. It’s floating.”

The gears in Twilight’s head began to jam. Obviously she was right—there was no way for an object that size to float—and yet there it was, floating, against all rationality.

She heard Trails cheerfully chip in from the back of the room. “Twilight, meet Sunfeather. She’s our pilot! Sunfeather, this is Twilight. She’s one of the six mares we dug up at the bottom of the ocean.”

Twilight’s mouth flopped about uselessly as several different trains of thought competed for the right to be spoken. After a few seconds the victor emerged. ”But how can it be floating?”

Sunfeather stared at her silently, as if speaking to ponies found in the depths of the ocean from the distant past was not only a regular occurrence, but indeed an annoyingly common one. “No idea,” she said, and slowly turned back to her controls.

What? How can you live on a floating island and not know how it works? Twilight looked desperately to the three other ponies in the room. “Why does it float?”

Flint and Trails exchanged amused glances. Sabre responded with an apologetic shrug. “We don’t know why. The islands have floated for hundreds of years.”

Islands? Plural? It suddenly clicked in Twilight’s head why there were all those distance measurements next to the islands on the map. Altitudes! All of Heighton was built on dozens of islands floating hundreds of meters above the sea, and nopony even knew why.

Twilight closed her eyes, forcing herself through a mental reboot. She filed the question of the floating islands away in the back of her mind, behind the drowning of the world, the destruction of Canterlot, and the loss of the Princesses.

Twilight opened her eyes to see Sea Sabre standing before her. “Could you go and bring your friends here? We’ll be docking soon.”

Since waking up earlier in the day, Twilight had been assaulted with what seemed to be an unending series of implausible, miraculous, and completely impossible sights. She had begun to think that maybe she was getting used to it, and that maybe she was finally ready to take whatever the future might throw at her. Surely nothing could top a gigantic island floating nearly a full kilometer above the surface of an ocean which covered the whole world, she’d thought. Surely things would tone down from there.

Yet as she stood in the dockroom of the Argo, face and hooves alike pressed up against the thick glass of a window, she realized that the future had far more in store for her.

Heighton was truly a city in the sky, more elaborate and awe-inspiring than even Cloudsdale had been on her first visit. The main—and by far the largest—island was covered with a solid mass of stone architecture. Slender white towers dotted the cityscape, connected with a network of bridges and platforms that cast the buildings beneath into shadow. Scattered amongst them were massive square constructs that Twilight reasoned could only be warehouses, especially if the expansive series of docks and piers that jutted out over the edge of the city were any indication. A flotilla of airships surrounded the city, some coming in to dock beneath the tall cranes that unburdened their open decks of the heavy crates stacked upon them, while others cast off their ties and set off to travel in what seemed every possible direction. Even the sides of the island were put to use, covered in a spiderweb of rickety wooden scaffolding and shacks, some of which looked accessible only from tunnels dug into the island itself.

Five other floating islands were directly connected to the mainland by sturdy steel bridges secured to the land around them with thick cabling. They were much smaller compared to the bulk of the mainland, but no less busy. Two were covered in high-rise apartment complexes that reminded Twilight of pictures she’d seen of Manehattan. The other three belched thick clouds of black smoke from the veritable forests of smokestacks that rose from their surface. Noxious waterfalls of murky brown sludge poured from the pipes which jutted forth from their sides.

“Shucks, I’ve never seen anythin’ like it,” Applejack said.

“Neither have I,” Rarity said, turning her nose up at the black stains in the water. “It’s absolutely filthy!”

Rainbow Dash snorted indignantly and crossed her hooves. “Cloudsdale is still cooler.”

Pinkie Pie scuffed a hoof against the floor bitterly. “If it’s still there.”

Rainbow arched a brow. “Of course it is!” she snapped, before adding, “It was already floating. The cloudgineers would’ve just moved it up some.”

Rainbow turned back to the window, shoulders slumping. Twilight frowned as she watched the display. Dusty had told her that most ponies had lost their magic, and without their magic she didn’t think any pegasi would be able to live in Cloudsdale, even if it had survived whatever calamity had befallen the world. She decided against voicing the thought.

Focusing back on the window, Twilight watched as they floated gently towards the mainland of Heighton. A pair of small boats which Twilight took to be tugs—really, nothing more than a deck, an engine, and a balloon—approached them. There was the muffled sound of venting steam, and a pair of thick chains shot forth from the Argo’s hull, one landing on each tug. After a brief scramble from the ponies aboard, the chains were secured, and they began to ease the larger ship through the dizzying cloud of airships which filled the air around Heighton.

A hoof tapped Twilight on the shoulder. She jolted in surprise, turning to see Sabre holding out a folded up uniform. Trails and Flint had also entered the boarding room, though it looked like Sunfeather had stayed behind in the cockpit.

“Put this on,” Sabre said.

Twilight levitated the uniform, holding it up.

“Also, don’t do that,” Sabre added, slapping her horn.

“Hey!” Twilight flinched as the sudden impact broke her concentration. The uniform fell limply into her hooves. “What was that for?”

Sabre shrugged. “I’d rather avoid advertising that I found six Gifted at the bottom of the ocean. If anypony asks, you’re from Skymoor and your business is your own.”

Sabre didn’t wait for a response. She advanced down the line to deliver another uniform to Rarity, leaving Twilight to rub her horn gingerly. The uniform was made of the same plain, gray-green fabric that Sabre wore, though it covered the legs and flank as well as the barrel.

Rarity let out a muffled whimper as she looked the clothes over. “Oh, these are terrible! Do we really have to wear them?”

“Yes,” Sea Sabre said, holding a uniform out for Applejack.

Rarity let out a dramatic sigh as she began to pull the uniform on. “It really is the apocalypse,” she muttered.

With her cutie mark now hidden, Twilight turned to watch as the Argo was tugged into port. The tug crews tied their chains off at the pier, securing the ship to the thick wooden beams, and set off to pull in their next charge.

A deep vibration shook the room as heavy gears audibly sprang into life. An entire wall of the room began to slowly open up, allowing the sounds and smells of Heighton to filter in. Hoofsteps on wood and steel reached Twilight’s ears. A gust of wind blew in, bringing with it heavy smells of smoke and salt, with the scent of dried fruit just barely detectable underneath it. The ramp came to a stop on the dock with a tired shudder, allowing Twilight to see the crowds of ponies hastily milling about. Most wore simple cloth tunics or leggings, their coats marred with black stains. A select few were outfitted in elaborate silk robes and vests, their eyes protected by thick shaded glasses and their manes tucked away beneath wide-brimmed hats decorated with gold and silver. Twilight didn’t see a single cutie mark amongst them.

“Come with us,” Sabre said, speaking up to be heard over the din of the city.

“And keep close,” Flint added.

Twilight didn’t need to be told twice. She’d never been anywhere with so many ponies in such a small space before, and the hasty indifference in their eyes was enough impetus to keep her next to Sea Sabre as they stepped out onto the dock. Flint led the way, breaking a path through the crowd with his girth, as Trails brought up the rear of the group.

Occasionally Twilight would bump into a passerby, calling out with a reflexive apology only to find that the offender had already moved on. The crowd was so thick here on the docks that she could scarcely see more than a few meters ahead of her, and the cloud of smoke cast out by the airships kept her from seeing anything over their heads. She found herself in between Rarity and Pinkie Pie, the fashionista strutting proudly down the path while the party pony ambled forward with her eyes down. With a glance back, Twilight saw Applejack pushing Fluttershy’s gurney, and Rainbow Dash glaring at anypony that dared to come close to her unconscious friend.

Twilight sighed in relief as they finally came out on the other side of the crowd. The wood of the dock gave way to the cobbled stone of the city proper as the ponies and smoke thinned out enough for her to see. The buildings were huddled close together in Heighton, as if trying to fend off the constant breeze that wove through the city and carried the smoke away. She didn’t have any time to look around before Flint began to wave a hoof.

“Taxi!” Flint looked back to the rest of the group, brow furrowing. “I need three taxis!”

Within seconds, a trio of faded yellow, enclosed wagons pulled up to the curb. A stallion waited patiently in front of each.

After a brief meeting the group divvied up into the taxis. Flint and Applejack rode in the middle with Fluttershy, and Trails took Rainbow Dash and Rarity in the front wagon. Twilight found herself in the back with Sabre and Pinkie, who seemed set on looking silently out her window.

“So uh, where are we going?” Twilight asked, gritting her teeth as the wagon passed over a hefty bump.

“To our office,” Sabre said. “It’s where you’ll be staying.”

“Office?” Twilight cocked her head at that. “Dusty told me that you’re some kind of ‘salvage crew.’ What do you do there?”

“Ponies can come there to hire us out, when we’re free. It’s also where they come to buy our salvage.”

Buy our salvage? That’s when it clicked. Twilight’s heart sank as she suddenly realized what had been bothering her before, when Dusty said they were a salvage crew. These ponies had dived into Canterlot, risking their lives for the potential of finding some salvage to sell, and all they had found was her and her friends. They were the salvage.

She could feel her heartbeat speeding up. “Uh…” She gulped, glancing out the open window of the wagon. The other two taxis seemed to have pulled ahead, out of sight. Could she escape, if she needed to? “So are—you wouldn’t—are you going to sell us?”

The corner of Sabre’s lips pulled up into a tiny little smirk. “To be honest, Miss Twilight, I don’t even know, myself. Normally we sell most of what we find, but, well, finding actual living ponies—and from before the world drowned, no less—there’s no precedent.” She looked out her window thoughtfully. “I’ll have to speak to our benefactor about what he’ll want to do with you all. But I wouldn’t worry if I were you. I’d say you were lucky that we found you instead of another crew.”

Twilight smiled nervously, trying to calm her racing heart. “Why’s that?”

“Because our benefactor is more interested in having a priceless relic to show off to his friends than he is in turning a profit,” Sabre said. She turned to look Twilight in the eyes. “And I don’t think it would be exaggeration to say that you and your friends are the most priceless relics we’ve ever dug up.”

Twilight wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She glanced over to Pinkie Pie, but the mare didn’t look like she’d even heard the conversation. Sabre didn’t seem to be waiting for a response, however, so Twilight allowed the wagon to fall into a steady silence, broken only by the clamor of the wheels upon the street.

She spent the rest of the ride looking out the window on her side, letting the sight of Heighton passing by distract her from her worries. The streets were more narrow than in Canterlot, just wide enough for two carriages to pass side-by-side while still leaving room for pedestrians to squeeze through, and thankfully carriages didn’t seem very common. The roads were filled mostly with hoof traffic, the crowds flowing around any passing taxi wagon or cargo-laden cart like a stream around stone. Most of the ponies here wore nothing, leaving their coats open to be stained black by the smoke which wafted through the streets, though Twilight did notice the popularity of bandanas and goggles to protect the face.

The ride was shorter than Twilight had anticipated. It couldn’t have been even an hour when the wagon finally clattered to a stop, and when Twilight climbed down to the street, she was surprised to see that they had already reached the other side of the mainland. She quickly glanced about, surreptitiously searching for a possible escape route. Sabre was busy speaking with the taxi driver, but the street was thinly populated here. It would be too easy to get caught if she ran now.

Perched on the very edge of the island, and indeed a little beyond, were a bar and a gambling hall. Running between the two, on the third story, was an arching, open-topped bridge that gave easy passage to drunks looking to win money and gamblers looking to spend it. It was between these two buildings, crammed into the space underneath the bridge, that Twilight saw the office of Long Salvage Inc. It was a sordid stone construct, its top floor almost completely blackened from years of exposure to smoke, and its bottom a plain, worn grey. The only decoration was the four squat windows that looked out onto the street and the painted wooden letters on the second story. Twilight got the impression that the letters were supposed to spell the name of the company, but between the faded, chipped paint and a pair of missing letters, they instead sadly labeled the building as “Lo–g Sa–vage Inc.”

Twilight frowned. She had expected something more. “Is this it?”

Pinkie Pie sighed. “It makes me want to cry.”

Twilight’s ears flicked at the clattering of their taxi driving away. She glanced back to see Sea Sabre walking up.

“I know it’s not much, but we don’t really use it for much either way,” she said. “C’mon.”

Sabre led Twilight and Pinkie to the door, holding it open with one wing and beckoning them inside with the other. Long metal shelves took up most of the first floor, each one adorned with a selection of ancient, dusty mundanities. On one shelf Twilight saw old quills, cracked cider mugs, rusty pans, and faded picture frames side by side, each set up as if a valuable antique. It looks almost like somepony raided my kitchen to stock this place. Which I suppose they very well could’ve.

Trails looked up from where she sat behind the desk, idly toying with a pencil. “Ah, there you are. Flint is upstairs with the others.”

Sabre responded with a brief nod, leading the way to the back of the store and up the stairs to the second story. Most of the second floor was devoted to a small living space, with a pair of patched sofas flanking a low wooden table. Rainbow Dash and Applejack were seated on one sofa, with Fluttershy laid across the one opposite. Rarity was peering out a window in the back of the room, which looked out over the sea. Flintlock leaned against a corner, watching the ponies sharply.

Rainbow Dash looked up as Twilight entered. “Took you long enough,” she said. “We’ve been waiting here forever.”

Applejack glanced askance to the mare at that. “It ain’t even been five minutes, Rainbow.”

“Five minutes?” Rainbow scoffed. “Might as well be five days!”

Flint rolled his eyes, looking to Sabre. “Alright, so we’ve got ’em all here. What now, Boss?”

“I’ll be going over to Mr. Rich’s place to talk to him,” Sabre said. She looked to each of the other ponies up in turn, stopping on Twilight. “In the meantime, you all will stay here under the watch of Flint and Trails.”

“What?” Rainbow Dash leapt to her hooves, wings flared. “You’re gonna keep us cooped up in here even longer?”

Sea Sabre was already starting down the steps. “Non-negotiable!” she called.

Twilight went down after her, keeping pace. “But Sabre, I need to get to a library! I have to figure out what happened!”

“I’m sorry, Miss Twilight, but nothing you say will prevent me from doing my job.” Sabre looked back briefly as she opened the door. “I’ll be back after a couple days. We’ll talk about your library visit then.”

Sabre stepped outside, using a wing to shut the door behind her before Twilight could say anything else.

“Ugh!” Twilight glanced back and immediately locked eyes with Trails.

Trails grinned. “Yep. I’m watching. How about you back away from that door?”

Twilight narrowed her eyes. She was already at the door, and Trails was all the way across the room. What would happen if she just slipped out right now? Disappeared into the crowd?

A blue glow surrounded Trails’ horn, and a long, slender harpoon floated up from behind the counter. “Go ahead, Twilight. Step outside. It’ll hurt you more than it’ll hurt me.”

Twilight froze, her ears flattening against her head as she eyed the barbed head of the harpoon. It was becoming all too apparent to her that these ponies might not be their rescuers after all. Would she really use that on me? No, no, there’s no need to be worried, Twilight. Sabre said that you’re a priceless artifact! But then what if they make an example of you, for the others? How many prehistoric mares do they really need, anyways? Slowly she pulled herself away from the door, watching as Trails followed her with the harpoon. We’ve got to get out of here before they hurt my friends.

Once she was halfway across the room, Trails gave a content little nod and stashed the harpoon away. Twilight flicked her tail irritably at the smug expression on her face, but said nothing. It wouldn’t do to challenge her now, and Twilight couldn’t entirely blame her for following orders.

Without another word Twilight trudged up the stairs. When she arrived on the second floor she was surprised to see Flint slumped over in his corner, snoring loudly.

What? It’s only been a few minutes and he’s already asleep?

Rainbow Dash was standing just inches away from the sleeping stallion. “Do you think he’s faking it?” she asked.

“Rainbow! Get away from him before he wakes up!” Applejack hissed, climbing off the couch.

“But think about it, AJ,” Rainbow Dash said. She glanced suspiciously at Flint before continuing. “If he’s asleep, we can get out of here.”

“And then what, huh?” Applejack shot back. “We don’t know the first thing about this place!”

Twilight raised a hoof. “Also, Trails is waiting downstairs. With a harpoon.”

Rarity tossed her mane indignantly from her position next to the window. “I don’t know why you’re in such a rush to traipse about in this filthy city anyways, Rainbow. I think we should wait and try to get an audience with that ‘Mr. Rich’ gentlecolt that Sabre was talking about.”

Pinkie Pie, who was lying limply on the couch next to Fluttershy, waved a hoof in lazy circles above herself as she mumbled something under her breath

Rainbow scratched at the floor. “Okay, well why don’t we go ask Trails? Maybe she’ll let us go.”

Twilight frowned as Rainbow brushed past her, down the steps. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said, but Rainbow was already gone.

“Gosh dangit, that mare’s more stubborn than a cat in a rainstorm.” Applejack immediately crossed the room and started down the steps. Twilight let out a hefty sigh as she followed.

She came out on the first floor to see Rainbow Dash hovering over the counter, her muzzle pushed up in Trails’ face. “C’mon, let us go! We’ve got more important things to do than wait around in here!”

Trails cocked a brow as she stared back coolly. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like—like—ugh, I dunno! Saving the world!” Rainbow Dash looked around, zeroing in on Twilight. “We need to go visit a library!”

Trails nodded with mock sincerity. “Mmm, yeah. Well, I need to keep you here, so that sounds like a personal problem to me. Can’t help you.”

Twilight took a sharp breath as she saw Rainbow Dash draw back, her body coiling like a spring. Applejack jumped up and bit down on her tail just as she tried to pounce, causing the pegasus to slap limply against the countertop and roll onto the floor.

“What the hay, AJ!” Rainbow rubbed the back of her head gingerly.

Applejack stomped a hoof sternly. “Y’all need to calm down, Rainbow! Y’ain’t gettin’ nowhere fast like that.”

Twilight stepped in front of Trails, blocking her sight of the arguing mares as she cleared her throat. “Star Trails, have you ever heard of the Elements of Harmony?”

Trails shrugged. “’Course I have. It’s just some old mare’s tale.” She tried to lean around Twilight and get a better view of the continuing argument.

Twilight mirrored her movement perfectly. “And you know about the six Bearers that wield the Elements against any danger to ponykind?”

Trails froze. Her eyes came up to meet Twilight’s. “Are you saying…”

Twilight gave a curt little nod. “Actually, I am.”

“No way.” Trails shook her head vehemently. “There’s no way. The Elements aren’t real! That’s impossible.”

Twilight couldn’t help but let out a sharp, barking laugh at the word. Impossible? I thought I knew what was impossible when I went to my brother’s wedding, and yet here I am! “Well, digging up six living mares from hundreds of years in the past was impossible too, wasn’t it?”

Trails frowned. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “It was.”

Twilight smiled sweetly. “Well, as long as you’ve done one impossible thing today, why not make it two and help the Elements of Harmony save the world by showing me a library?”

A silence fell over the room. Even Rainbow Dash and Applejack had ceased their bickering. Twilight could feel their eyes on her back as they watched her and Trails face off.

Trails gave a ponderous nod of her head, leaning back. “Well… I suppose, maybe, I’ll humor you, if only to see where you go with it. But only you, okay?”

“Hey, no fair!”

“Rainbow! C’mon here!”

Twilight let out a relieved sigh, allowing herself some small relaxation as Applejack pulled Rainbow Dash back upstairs. Maybe now I can finally find out what happened. “So, when can we leave?”

“I just need to talk to Flint real quick, pull in some favors.” Trails turned for the stairs. “Make sure he doesn’t fall asleep as soon as I leave… And then I’ll take you to the library myself.”

Twilight sat back on her haunches, a wily smile forming on her face. The library visit would give her an excellent chance to learn more of the city, and perhaps even find some method of escape. And better yet, she’d even get the opportunity to borrow a few books.

“What do you mean, I can’t get a library card?”

The librarian mare very slowly raised a brow. Her head moved at a glacial pace as she eyed the massive pile of books on the desk before her. “I just need your ID, hun.”

“ID? Ughh!” Twilight tossed her hooves up in frustration. “I don’t have an ID!”

The librarian seemed unfazed by the protest. Over the course of several seconds she leaned back in her chair, picking up her magazine. “Look, if you forgot your ID then just go home and bring it here, m’kay? No card without ID, and no rentals without a card.”

“But—what—Trails!” Twilight perked up, looking back as a solution came to her mind. “You have an ID, right? You can borrow them for me!”

Trails laughed nervously as she scratched the back of her neck. “Actually, I kind of have a hold on my account.”

The librarian cleared her throat loudly. “Which will be cleared as soon as Miss Star Trails returns her book or pays the lost fee. It’s been overdue for 789 days.”

Twilight swore she could feel her heart stop. A small part of her died inside as she closed her eyes and took some time to digest what she’d just heard. They opened abruptly, honing in on Trails with a fire so intense that the other unicorn actually took a step backwards. “Over two years? Two years that you haven’t paid for one lost book?”

“I didn’t lose it!” Trails shot back. “It’s just I haven’t—I’m sure it’s right where I left it, I just haven’t gotten around to finding it yet is all.”

“It’s been two years!” Twilight said, throwing a hoof up in disgust. “Just admit you lost it and pay the fee!”

Trails flinched back, shaking her head vehemently as if struck by the suggestion. “Are you crazy? I’m not going to pay them a month’s wages for a book I haven’t even lost!”

“Ugh, fine!” Twilight turned back to the librarian. She leaned all the way over the counter and pulled her magazine down with a hoof. “I don’t have an ID. I’ve never had one.”

Slowly, the librarian arched a brow. “Ahuh. Real funny, miss. No ID, no books.”

Twilight rounded on Star Trails, leveling a hoof on the startled mare. “How do I get an ID?” she demanded.

Trails shrugged helplessly. “Hay if I know! I’ve never met anyone without one!”

“What?! How is that possible?” Twilight began to advance on Trails, pushing the mare up against one of the library’s bookshelves.

“We all get one when we’re born!” Trails said, raising her hooves. “It’s just part of being an Equestrian citizen, alright?”

“Hah!” Twilight raised a hoof and jabbed Trails in the chest. A few books rained down upon her, jostled free from the impact. “So what if I’m not an Equestrian citizen, huh? How do I get an ID then? There must be an immigration office, right?”

“What—immigration?” Trails pushed Twilight back, chuckling. “Where the hay would anypony immigrate from? There’s no land outside of Equestria!”

What? Twilight could feel her brain finally snap.

She slumped down onto the floor, taking some small comfort in the books that had fallen there.

“Ugghhhhhhh!”

Author's Note

What shall happen to our lovely heroines? Will Mr. Rich sentence them to be sold at auction? Will they be kept as exotic pets for his parlor? Will Twilight find her books? Don't touch those dials! Tune in next time to find out!

Join the EH Discord!

IV: The Rich

“Are you sure this is it?” Twilight asked.

Trails narrowed her eyes at the paper in her magical grasp. “The address seems correct.”

“It just… isn’t what I expected,” Twilight said, cocking her head at the building before them.

“Not what you expected?” Trails scoffed, folding the paper up before slipping it into a pocket on her uniform. “I didn’t even think we had an immigration office. The whole thing is unexpected!”

Twilight shot a sideways glare at Trails, squinting as the dawn sun shone into her tired eyes, but said nothing. The building before them looked more like a home than any kind of office. It was a wooden building, something which Twilight had inferred was a sign of wealth in this distant future, with one side set into a tall stone pillar supporting a passing bridge and the remaining three open to the street. The walls were painted a pleasant, inoffensive blue, and if the relative lack of black stains on its sides were any indication, the paint must have been recent. Wide windows flanked wider balconies on the second and third floors, but no matter how hard Twilight looked, she didn’t see any indication or sign that it was a government office.

But this was the address. She had spent a full hour perusing city maps in search of this place, and she was absolutely certain that this was the right spot. She stepped confidently through the open archway, down the paved path, and up the shallow stairway. Resisting the urge to use her magic, she raised a hoof and grasped the silver knocker, giving three solid knocks to the firm wooden door.

Several seconds passed where nothing happened. Twilight shared an uncertain glance with Trails.

The door opened abruptly, revealing a young unicorn stallion wearing a vivid purple bathrobe that clashed just as violently with his bright green mane as it did with his dark brown coat.

The unicorn narrowed his eyes. “What’re you selling?” He leaned over to look behind the two mares. “Are you bringing the cider?”

“Cider?” Twilight let out a nervous little chuckle. “Uh, I think maybe we have the wrong place. Could you direct us to the immigration office?”

The unicorn froze. He leaned in slowly, lowering his voice to a hoarse whisper. “Did my uncle send you?”

Trails rolled her eyes, stomping a hoof. “Look, is this the immigration office or not? We require its services.”

The unicorn’s mouth flopped about uselessly before he spoke. “Well, uh… yes, I suppose it is.” He poked his head outside and scanned the street. “Come on in, I guess.”

Twilight bowed her head politely as she entered. The office looked even more like a home on the inside, with an open parlor decorated with a varied selection of tapestries and sculptures. She even saw a few relics displayed in glass cases, one of which she recognized as a piece of Cloudsdale sky marble. The parlor seemed to take up almost the entire floor, though there was a door set into one wall which hinted at other rooms. An elegant staircase curved up along one corner and past the high vaulted ceiling to the next floor.

“This doesn’t look much like an office,” Twilight said. Are all government offices like this?

Trails snorted. “Looks more like a ballroom to me.”

The unicorn let out a half-hearted laugh. “Uh, no, this isn’t the office. The uh, the office is over here. Please, uh, step into my office.”

He led them towards the staircase, and as they came closer, Twilight picked out a small door set into its side. He pulled the door open with one foreleg, ushering them in with the other before closing the door behind them.

Twilight frowned. It was pitch black inside. “Excuse me?” she called. “There’s no light in here.”

No response. A chill ran down Twilight’s spine. The words ‘salvage’ and ‘sell’ bounced about wildly in her head.

Trails’ voice reached Twilight’s ears. “Ugh, this is unbelievable.” The shuffling of hooves along the wall preceded the flicking of a switch.

Twilight flinched back as the room suddenly burst into a pale, white light. She cracked an eye open, letting it adjust to the sudden brightness. She cut back a sharp gasp. The words ‘disorganized’ and ‘apocalypse’ bounced about wildly in her head.

It was almost as if someone had taken Dusty Tome’s messy airship quarters and shoved them into the cramped confines of the submarine. A thin metal desk set into the middle of the room practically cut it in two with its length, and the metal stools which flanked it looked as if they’d been designed to actively discomfort anyone that sat in them. A quartet of filing cabinets, barely taller than a pony, had been shoved into the small space behind the desk, each one resting at an angle that implied they were too tall to actually fit into the room but had been forced into place anyways. There were no windows. The only source of light was the bare bulb above the desk.

Twilight jumped in surprise as the door opened behind her, smacking into her flank and pushing her aside. The brown unicorn slinked into the room with all the enthusiasm of a stallion paying taxes.

“Alright, uh, my name’s Easy Coast.” He climbed clumsily over the desk, wincing as his horn scraped against the low ceiling, and fell into the stool on the other side. His robe had been replaced with a hasty polka dot bow tie that looked even more nervous than he did. He cleared his throat, adjusting his position in the stool before straightening up. “Welcome to, uh, the office of immigration. How can I, uh... help you?”

Twilight glanced over to Trails. The other mare shrugged cluelessly and waved her on. With a flick of her tail, Twilight stepped up to the desk. “Well, Mr. Coast. I would like to apply for an ID.”

Mr. Coast flinched as if struck by the words. “You mean like, you lost yours and need a new one?”

Twilight shook her head curtly. “No, I mean I’ve never had one and I need one.”

Mr. Coast let out a nervous, breathy laugh. “No uh, I don’t think that’s possible. Everypony gets an ID when they’re born, so—”

He whimpered as Twilight suddenly reared up onto the desk. “Is this the immigration office or not?”

“It—it is, but—”

She banged a hoof against the desk. “And this is where immigrants would come to get an ID, so they could borrow a book from the public library?”

“Well uh, yeah, b—”

“So then what’s the problem?” Twilight snapped. “I want my books!”

Mr. Coast’s whole body began to shake as he sniffled helplessly. “I—I d-d-don’t know how to do it!” he whined. “I’ve never d-d-done this before, okay?”

A calmness settled over Twilight’s mind as she watched the stallion begin to cry. She had read before that panic, fear, or anger were often replaced with such a calm when ponies were on the brink of death. She wondered if maybe she had surpassed mere rage as her fury fell away from her. She had to get her books, and she wasn’t going to let something as common as an incompetent government employee stop her.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she eased into the stool behind her. It was just as uncomfortable as she’d predicted. When she opened her eyes again she spoke gently, laying a comforting hoof on the stallion’s shoulder. “Do you have a manual?”

“So I guess you’re like a full Equestrian now, huh?” Trails asked.

Twilight looked away from the alley she’d been eyeing. No use in running away now when I’m so close to figuring things out. “How do you mean?”

Trails shrugged as the two of them walked around a passing wagon. “I mean you used to just be like, I dunno, some salvage we dug up. But now that you’ve got an ID, you’re a citizen like everypony else.”

“Oh,” Twilight said. “Wait, what? Are you implying that natural rights are attached to government-issued forms and not to a pony’s being?”

Trails stopped mid-step, grimacing. “Y’know, I’m starting to feel like maybe Sabre won’t approve of what I’ve done.”

“Hah!” Twilight let out a sharp, barking laugh. “I just can’t wait to finally get some time with my books.” A particularly thick plume of smoke blew into Twilight’s face. She burst into a vigorous coughing fit, scrunching her nose up at the disgusting taste.

“What is it with you and books?” Trails asked, resuming her walk. “They’re just books, it’s not like it’s the end of the world if you don’t get them.”

Twilight blinked. “Not the end of the world? It is the end of the world!” She cut in front of the other unicorn, stopping her with a hoof. “Don’t you get it? All this happened because my friends and I weren’t here, and now we have to fix things and—and make them right again!” Her throat began to tighten. Her mind started to drift, and she swiftly wrestled her thoughts back into focus. Fix things! There’s no time to think about anything else, just focus on fixing things!

Trails frowned, lifting a hoof to brush Twilight’s aside. She looked up thoughtfully as they passed under a bridge. “I don’t think this world is so bad.”

“Not so bad?” Twilight looked around her, at all the ponies trudging past them with their eyes dull and their coats stained black. There was so much smoke, and none of the rolling green hills, blue skies, or thick white clouds that had once characterized Equestria. Her homeland had gone from a vibrant rainbow of color and life to a black-stained skeleton of what it once had been. “You don’t even know how far it’s fallen.”

Trails grinned. “Actually, Twilight, I think things have really been looking up.” She snickered quietly and sped up, taking the lead.

Twilight flicked her tail. “Whatever.”

Luckily, the library wasn’t much further. That was all that had kept her going through the day: the promise of the library, and the books she could use to get some insight on what had happened. Getting the ID had been no easy task. Twilight was convinced that the immigration office manual was written either by or for someone that didn’t ever read it, and the sheer mass of grammar mistakes and ambiguities that marred each page had nearly driven her mad. It hadn’t helped that a dozen other unicorns had arrived half-an-hour in for some kind of party, and had insisted on carousing loudly in the parlor instead of coming back later as Twilight had asked. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think that that Mr. Coast didn’t even care about his job! A government employee ought to take their role seriously, like Ms. Cheerilee always—Nope! Focus, Twilight.

She let out a relieved sigh as she turned a corner and the library came into view. It was a thin structure, made of the same stained stone as most everything else in the city. It was smaller than her old—Focus!—smaller than other libraries she’d seen, though the second floor helped to make up for its cramped dimensions.

Twilight accelerated into an eager canter, noting with some irritation that Trails also sped up to keep pace. The two mares entered together, and Twilight paused to take a deep breath of the library air. The scent of books was a welcome break from the smoky stench of the streets.

Trails closed the door behind them, dulling the clatter of a passing cart. “Alright, make this quick. I’d like to be back before sunset, in case Sabre arrives early.”

“Don’t worry, I already know what I’m looking for.” Twilight pulled a rolled up piece of paper out of her chest pocket, quickly scanning the list of titles, authors, and topics written within. She had made the list last night to keep herself focused. She liked lists. Lists were nice.

Twilight answered the librarian’s flat gaze with a cheery nod as she approached, and she quickly filled out the necessary forms to obtain a library card. At least, she tried to do it quickly. The librarian moved at an agonizingly slow pace, and nearly ten minutes had passed by the time she finally held the card in her hooves.

Twilight suppressed the urge to giggle her joy as she delved into the depths of the library. Even Trails hovering impatiently behind her didn’t dampen her spirits as she retraced her path, pulling books from each section in turn. She spent most of her time in the history section, heart leaping each time she checked another box on her list, pulling out works on ‘modern’ history, pre-flood history, and biographies of historic individuals. She made brief detours into geography and science as well, picking up a pair of atlases and a gigantic tome which seemed to discuss the nature of the floating islands themselves. She found a piece on the Gifted and a treatise on cutie marks, and lastly she visited the library’s painfully scarce magic section.

Unfortunately, the library didn’t seem to have much in the way of books on magic. She needed some kind of healing or diagnostic spell, or at least some base she could attempt to construct her own spell from. She paced back and forth before the single small bookshelf that constituted the library’s magic ‘section,’ but she found mostly fundamental knowledge or theoretical texts, the sort of basics that she had read herself in magic kindergarden. The closest thing she found to an actual spellbook was a collection of advanced levitation techniques, all of which were incorrectly named.

She groaned in frustration. “Where are all the spellbooks?”

Trails cleared her throat from behind her. “You do realize that pretty much nopony has magic, right?”

Twilight blinked. She looked back, licking her lips. “But… but there’s the Gifted, right? They have magic?”

Trails snorted. “Yeah, we have magic, but we’re like—I dunno, a thousandth of the population, if that? You’ll hardly find a spellbook in a public library. Spellbooks only exist in little filly’s stories.”

“But what about you?” Twilight drew closer to Trails, looking at her horn. “You’re a unicorn. Where did you learn your spells?”

“Heh.” Trails rolled her eyes. “You mean spell, right? Nopony can have more than one spell, even among Gifted. What good is a spellbook?”

Twilight felt her legs go weak, and she sat down heavily. Of course there’s no spellbooks. If there’s nopony with the talent or magic to learn new spells, then what good would one do? She was probably the only unicorn for hundreds of years that wasn’t restricted to the instinctive talent spells that unicorns came to learn on their own. She bit her lip, shivering. How am I going to save Fluttershy?

“Uh, you okay there?” Trails tentatively reached out and pat her on the back. “Don’t cry, alright? Please? Can we just go back now?”

Twilight fought back her tears. She thought of Fluttershy lying asleep, never waking up again. I don’t want to lose you too. She’d already lost so much. No time to cry. She would fix things.

She looked up to Trails, pulling her close with a hoof. “Can you teach me your spell?” If I can learn from Trails, then that shows that I can learn from anypony. And then I just have to find a unicorn with the right spell.

Trails flinched back from the sudden intensity in the mare’s voice. “Well, uh, I don’t really know if that’s possible—”

“It is!” Twilight snapped. She leapt back to her hooves, not breaking eye contact. “I can do it, okay? I was Princess Celestia’s personal—” She paused, closing her eyes before pushing the next word forth. “—faithful student. I can learn any spell you show me!”

Trails glanced furtively side-to-side. Twilight followed the mare’s eyes, and saw a few other library patrons watching from a distance. Oh.

Trails pulled herself away from Twilight’s grasp, lowering her voice. “Okay, okay, I believe you! But not here, alright? Sabre’ll be mad enough as it is and it’s getting late. Let’s just get your books and head back.”

“Just one more book,” Twilight said. She looked up to the top of the magic bookshelf, horn glowing as she magically grasped a leyline atlas and levitated it into her bags. She was curious to see how the leylines had shifted during her absence.

“Ah, stars! Stop that!” Trails flicked Twilight’s horn—shorting the magic—before grabbing her by the collar and tugging her towards the front desk. “Let’s go!”

Twilight was practically shaking in anticipation as she waited before the Long Salvage Inc. office. She had spent the entire twenty minutes of the walk from the library fighting the urge to levitate a book out of her bags and read it on the go, restrained only by Trails’ stern glares and the constant need to dodge and weave through the crowds of Heighton, but now she was here. There was nothing left to stop her from reading these books. She would fix things.

Trails pulled her key out and tried the door, but it didn’t even budge. She let out an exasperated growl and pounded on the wood with a hoof. “Flint! Get up!”

Twilight heard the shuffling of heavy hooves on the other side of the door, and it opened to reveal a groggy Flintlock on the other side.

“Oh good, ye’re back. Was gettin’ worried that Sabre’d beat ye to it,” he said. “I didn’t think ye’d take so long.”

“Yeah well, neither did I.” Trails stepped inside, heading for the desk. “Did we get any customers? Any issues?”

Flint shrugged as Twilight stepped past him. “Hard to say. That blue pony was gettin’ real insistent on leavin’, so I just propped myself against the door and told ‘er she could leave if she moved me. She kept it up for ‘bout half an hour, then I fell asleep.”

Trails shook her head as she settled down behind the desk. “Damn, you’re lazy. Go upstairs, I’ll tend the shop.”

Twilight didn’t hear his response, as she was already halfway up the steps. She came out on the second floor to see her friends in more or less the same positions as when she left. Rainbow was prowling the ceiling next to the window, occasionally making a half-hearted attempt to open it. Applejack and Rarity were having a hushed conversation on one sofa, occasionally throwing furtive glances across the table in the center of the room.

Twilight didn’t bother to look to the other sofa. She didn’t need to be distracted by Fluttershy’s sleeping form. Her ears drooped as she tried to shut out Pinkie’s quiet mutterings, and she immediately began to organize her freshly borrowed books by subject, page length, priority, and publishing date. Now where did I put my notepad?

A delicate cough threatened to shatter her fragile focus. “Twilight, darling?”

Hoofsteps approached from behind. Twilight flicked an ear irritably as a dainty hoof laid itself upon her shoulder.

“Twilight, I think we should talk,” Rarity said.

“Can we do it later?” Twilight asked, not looking back. “I really need to look over these books.”

“Later?” Rarity let out a feminine huff. “You’ve barely spoken to us at all since we… well, since we woke up in this dreadful place.”

Applejack stepped in front of Twilight, stooping low to catch her eye. “I know what I said earlier, Twi, but ya can’t just stick yer nose in a book and disappear.”

“Why not?!” Twilight snapped. She squeezed her eyes shut, wrestling with the pain in her chest. “We need to fix all of this, and I need to figure out how! Every minute I’m not doing that is another minute that we’ve failed Equestria!”

A hoof pulled at her face, and she opened her eyes to see Rarity’s blue pupils looking down at her sternly. “Because we need you, Twilight! Do you think you’re the only one who’s had nearly everything she knows taken from her?” Her eyes softened as she pulled Twilight into a hug. “All we have left is each other.”

Twilight blinked the wetness away from her eyes. She returned the embrace, looking over Rarity’s shoulder to where Pinkie Pie was sitting on the couch. The pink mare’s mane was completely flat, her face hidden behind it as she continued to murmur something under her breath. Rainbow made another tug at the window, her lower lip quivering as she admitted defeat once again.

Twilight let out a heavy sigh. Maybe she had been shutting herself away from her friends too much. She just wanted to fix everything so badly, to make it all as it once was. But things will never be the same, will they? Your world’s been gone for centuries. What’s another minute, day, month, or even year going to change?

“You’re right, Rarity. I’m sorry.”

Rarity pulled out of the hug, leaving a hoof on her shoulder. “It’s quite alright, dear. But Applejack and I were hoping for your help with something…”

“What is it?” Twilight asked.

Applejack cleared her throat quietly. “It’s Pinkie. We reckon she’s been takin’ things worse than all the rest of us. We were hopin’ to talk to her all together, but y’know how stubborn Rainbow is. Ain’t nothin’ we can do to calm her down till she does it herself. That just leaves us three.”

Twilight nodded, glancing to where Pinkie was sitting once more. “I understand. Let’s go.”

Together the three mares advanced on the sofa, their shoulders brushing past each other. Pinkie’s mutterings grew clearer to Twilight’s ears as she drew closer, and she was finally able to make out some of the words.

“Jonagold, Sunshower... Open Skies, Wensley, Berry Frost... Cloudchaser, Cloud Kicker, Brass Blare, Peachy Sweet... Amethyst Star, Comet Tail…”

Twilight’s throat tightened. She recognized some of these names. Amethyst Star had been an event planner, Cloud Kicker one of Rainbow’s deputies on the weather team, and Jonagold an Apple Family cousin. Ponies that had all lived in Ponyville with her.

Wet tears streaked down Pinkie’s face as she recited the names, each one only coming clearer as Twilight came closer. She realized that of all her friends, Pinkie had to be taking things the worst. And how couldn’t she? She had been friends with everypony in Ponyville, as she had always so loved to declare. Twilight had always been somewhat of a loner, even after meeting her best friends after leaving Canterlot, and she hadn’t even lost half a dozen friends or family to the apocalypse that had befallen the world.

Pinkie Pie was mourning hundreds.

She couldn’t help it. The shaky dam she’d constructed finally broke as she pulled Pinkie into a tight, quivering embrace. The tears flowed freely, unimpeded by any thoughts of a world that needed saving.

“Cherry Spices, Diamond Mint, Blossomforth, Fly Wishes, Junebug…”

The names kept on coming. Twilight heard Pinkie’s voice begin to waver as she felt Rarity and Applejack join the hug, lending their own bodies. There was the flap of wings, and Rainbow Dash’s prismatic mane fell into view. Together with her friends, Twilight mourned not only the passing of her world or her family, but also of the hundreds of ponies that had been her neighbors in Ponyville, and the forgotten millions that had lived all across Equestria.

Twilight couldn’t say how long they stayed that way. After an eternity, Pinkie’s voice finally fell silent, only to be replaced by Applejack’s as she recited the names of her extended family. Rarity and Rainbow Dash both spoke the names of their lost loved ones, voices breaking as they remembered the lost Cutie Mark Crusaders. Twilight spoke last, finally taking the time to acknowledge exactly whom she had lost.

“Spike, Twilight Velvet, Night Light, Shining Armor, Cadance… Princess Celestia…”

The group lapsed into a silence broken only by their quivering sobs. Finally they broke away, standing in a small, teary-eyed circle that huddled together as if they feared some torrential rain may come to sweep each other away at any moment.

Twilight took a deep breath to steady her voice. “Pinkie, we came to… to see if you were okay,” she said. She couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the statement. Obviously none of us are okay.

“Heh.” Applejack let out a low chuckle. “I suppose we weren’t quite okay ourselves, huh?”

Rainbow Dash flicked her head, straightening her mane with a hoof. “Ugh, you guys even got me all sappy.”

Rarity sniffled as she wiped a black trail of mascara from her cheeks, pouting. “Oh, this is just awful! All this crying has ruined my makeup, and I haven’t a clue of where to get more.”

Pinkie Pie giggled, her mane puffing up ever so slightly. For a brief moment she almost sounded like she had before they’d woken up at the end of the world, and Twilight wondered if she would ever be back to how she used to be. Will any of us ever be the same?

The sound of her laughter was like a streak of vivid sunlight cutting through a dark room. Twilight could feel herself relaxing, and saw her friends doing the same around her. Perhaps it was instinct, or force of habit, or maybe just some secret magic that only Pinkie possessed. The laughter spread between her friends like wildfire, and soon all five of them were giggling uncontrollably, neither one quite sure what they were laughing at, but relieved to do it nonetheless. They were together. Despite anything else that might have happened, they were still together. Even if they had lost everything else, they still had each other to cling to.

Twilight looked around for the first time in what felt like hours, and saw Flint shaking his head grumpily by the stairway.

“Y’all mares are crazy,” he grumbled.

The comment spurred on another round of laughter, harder this time. They fell to the floor, writhing about in fits. When the last of the giggles finally died down, Twilight climbed back to her hooves feeling miraculously refreshed. It was as if a dark haze had cleared from the room, and she was able to breathe and see clearly for the first time in days.

“Thanks, girls,” Pinkie said, looking up. “I guess I really, really, needed that.”

“I think we all did, Pinkie,” Applejack said. “I’m just glad y’all’re alright.”

“Yeah.” Pinkie closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

The mares moved with a renewed energy, and Twilight was pleased with the new clarity in her mind. They fell into a comfortable silence, simply basking in each other’s company. Twilight glanced at the pile of books in the corner, feeling their call to her, but resisted the urge to devour their contents. The world wasn’t in any immediate danger—at least not of its current equilibrium being disturbed—and she felt safe in the knowledge that a few moments relaxing with her friends couldn’t possibly do any harm.

The red-orange light of sunset was filtering through the one window of the second floor when Twilight heard the sound of the front door opening below. She raised her head blearily from its place on Pinkie’s shoulder, ears twitching at the sound of conversation approaching up the stairway.

Sea Sabre stepped into view, her eyes immediately darting to the veritable hoard of books next to the table. “Where did these books come from?”

Trails shrugged sheepishly as she came to a stop by Sabre’s side. “Oh, uh. Twilight wanted to read up on some history, so I went out and borrowed some books from the library.”

“The library?” Sabre slowly turned to face Trails. “The same library that you borrowed that comic from two years ago?”

Trails blinked. “Uhh… yes?”

There was a long moment where Sabre didn’t say anything, only narrowing her eyes as Trails shied away.

“You got her an ID and took her to the library, didn’t you?”

Trails looked away, suddenly finding the pile of books to be very interesting. “Well, I suppose you could say that, yeah.”

Sabre sighed, running a hoof through her mane. “Did you at least manage to keep her Gift hidden?”

“Uhh…”

“Nevermind, we’ll talk later.” Sabre turned, arching a brow at the pile of mares on the floor. “Mr. Rich apologizes for any inconvenience. He’d like to extend an invitation to dine with him at his estate tonight.”

Twilight straightened up, climbing to her hooves as her friends stirred around her. Rainbow Dash was the first to speak. “Invitation, huh? And what happens if we say no?”

“Then you’ll be free to go,” Sabre said. “Mr. Rich is not in the business of keeping ponies against their will.”

“What is he in the business of, exactly?” Twilight asked.

Flint spoke up from his spot in the corner. “That ain’t an easy question t’ answer, little mare.”

Sabre nodded. “He describes himself as a businesspony, but all the businessponies I know say otherwise. Do you want to come, or not?” She glanced over to the pile of books. “I would recommend that you do.”

“And why’s that?” Applejack asked.

“Where else would you go?” Sabre asked. “Out onto the street? You have no bits to pay for a room, and I doubt you want to take up labor in the factories or mines. There’s a dozen ponies on every street corner waiting to con you. If nothing else, I can assure you that Mr. Rich has no malice in his mind, and he will help you understand what’s happened to the world in your absence.”

Twilight’s mind lingered on that last sentence. It was true that she had no idea what they might do if they were set free, and ultimately she could end up seeking out a pony like Mr. Rich anyways. Sabre and her crew had treated them well so far, and as far as she could tell hadn’t lied about anything yet. If it was true that they were free to go, then she had nothing to lose from accepting the invitation. I’ve already lost so much.

“I think we should go meet him,” Twilight said, turning back to her friends.

“What?” Rainbow Dash exclaimed. “Twilight, this is the guy that’s been holding us here!”

Rarity raised a hoof delicately. “Sabre just said that we could leave whenever we wanted, darling. And it’s not as if we were tossed into some grimy dungeon and locked behind bars.” She wrinkled her nose as she eyed the dirty fabric of the sofa behind her. “Though it’s hardly a Canterlot suite.”

“Twilight might be right, Rainbow,” Applejack said. “Where else are we gonna go, huh? This Mr. Rich fella might even be able to help us out.”

Rainbow tossed her hooves up in frustration, hovering a few inches off the floor. “I don’t know! I’m just so tired of sitting around and doing nothing, and going to dinner with the guy that’s been holding us prisoner doesn’t sit right with me!”

“He’s also the guy that dug us up in the first place,” Applejack said, stomping a hoof.

Pinkie Pie stepped in front of Rainbow Dash, cutting her off. “He doesn’t seem like a really bad pony, Dashie,” she said. “Why don’t we become friends with him?”

Rainbow snorted, tossing her mane. “Okay, okay, fine! We can go! I guess every one else doesn’t mind being imprisoned in some stupid office for two days.”

“Hey!” Trails said. “Our office isn’t stupid!”

Sabre smiled, giving a little nod. “Great. We’ll leave now, then.”

“Already?” Rarity asked, her eyes darting about. “Oh, but I haven’t seen a mirror in days! I’m hardly proper!”

“It’s already sunset,” Sabre said, turning for the stairs. “Dinner will be served shortly after. Let’s go.”

She didn’t bother to wait for any further response. Sea Sabre was already out of sight as the other ponies set about preparing to leave. Twilight and Trails packed the sizeable pile of books into the bulging saddlebags that had been borrowed from the office’s stores, and Applejack wasted no time in hefting the sleeping Fluttershy onto her back once more. Rainbow’s grumbles and Rarity’s panicked titters fell on deaf ears as the mares were guided out of the building and a short ways down the street, where a lonely pier jutted out from a small patch of exposed rock between a pair of wooden buildings.

Floating lazily at the end of the pier was a simple airship, little more than a balloon and a propeller attached to a small boat. Sunfeather was waiting patiently near the front, next to a large wooden wheel and a pair of levers that stuck out of the floor.

They boarded quickly, with Sabre releasing the rope from the pier before making a wing-assisted jump aboard. Sunfeather pushed a lever forwards with a wing, silently guiding the ship away from the mainland as the propeller spun up. Twilight stayed pointedly in the center of the deck, distracting herself from the thought of all the open air beneath her by watching the islands pass by.

They traveled east, away from the setting sun and gaining in altitude. The mainland grew distant as they flew, with the islands passing by above and below gradually growing smaller as they went further east. Twilight thought back to the map of Heighton she had seen before, trying to keep track roughly of their position.

The islands east of the mainland were as varied in architecture as they were in altitude. They seemed to be organized into loose groups, and Twilight saw thick ropes running between many neighboring islands, with open gondolas ferrying ponies between the packed tenements of some islands to the smoke-clogged streets or busy markets of others. More than once their ship turned to avoid columns of smoke rising up from the factories beneath them, and several other vessels of similarly sparse design criss-crossed their path as they went..

The sun was low on the horizon by the time they finally reached their destination, with much of its light blocked by the bulk of Heighton beneath them. They pulled up to a small but sturdy pier at what looked like the easternmost island in Heighton, and Twilight actually found herself somewhat short of breath from the thin air, her ears having popped multiple times during the ride. A bleached white tower dominated the center of the island, its thick stones reminiscent of some kind of medieval castle. Four wide gravel paths extended out from its base, each one decorated with stone statues fashioned into abstract shapes that reminded Twilight of the spiraling magical diagrams of her youth. Smaller, packed dirt walkways snaked between the paths, weaving between an array of colorful trees and bushes that filled the air with the heady scent of their flowers.

Twilight took a deep breath, savoring the scent as she and her friends disembarked and followed Sabre down the closest gravel path, which led directly to their pier. It was the first time since her arrival in Heighton that the air had felt fresh, unmarred by the bitter taste or thick clog of smoke which seemed to linger over every part of the larger islands. Her ears flicked at the sound of songbirds in the depths of the garden, and she turned to see a pair of blank-flanked gardeners stretching up to trim at a tall passing bush with long shears.

Rarity let out a soft gasp behind her. “Oh, heavens, what a divine estate!”

“Eh, I’m not impressed,” Rainbow said, hovering above the group.

“The gardens’re certainly somethin’ special, if nothin’ else,” Applejack said.

“Does Mr. Rich live up in that tower?” Pinkie Pie asked. “It’s really, really, big! He must have some crazy-fantabulous parties!”

Trails looked back with a smirk. “Quite possibly the best parties in Heighton,” she said.

Pinkie sucked in a great big breath of air, and Twilight braced herself to parse an indecipherable assault of words, only to be saved by Sea Sabre’s voice.

“It is his tower, though it’s mostly for show,” she said. “He doesn’t really go up there that often, except for his open parties. He normally likes to entertain guests downstairs.”

Twilight cocked her head, looking back at the receding silhouette of the small ship they’d taken here. “He pays for all this with salvage crews?” The only other ships she saw docked were all of the same spartan, air-taxi design that seemed to be used for getting around locally. There wasn’t any sign of any other large, long-range roaming ships like the Argo that other salvage crews might use, and as far as she knew, the crew’s little office hadn’t had a single customer for the past two days.

Flint let out a low chuckle from the back of the group. “We’re more a hobby of his, actually.”

Sabre nodded. “You can ask him about it yourself, if you want. We just work for him.”

They came at last to the ornate wooden door at the end of the path, its surface carved into swirling patterns and further decorated with the same flowering vines that crawled across the marble statues of rearing earth ponies. It opened of its own volition as they approached, sweeping inwards with startling silence.

A smartly dressed unicorn mare was waiting for them in the expansive vaulted chamber that served as the tower’s foyer. Twilight couldn’t help but stare at the blank spot on her exposed flank as she bowed.

“Welcome to the estate. Mr. Rich is waiting in his study,” the mare said.

“Thank you, Aura,” Sabre said, not breaking stride. She led the group across the room, to a wide archway set into the base of the staircase which curved up the walls. Beyond the arch was another curved stairway with a similarly gradual slope, though this one sloped downwards.

Gently flickering lanterns set high on the rounded walls illuminated the carpeted steps as well as the sweepingly intricate murals painted onto each side. The murals seemed to tell a story, perhaps that of a popular legend, and Twilight studied them with wide eyes as they passed in the hopes of learning more of the history she had missed.

The beginning of the murals seemed to be the artist’s interpretation of Equestria during Twilight’s time, with wide plains and rolling hills, each side showing a stylized depiction of the alicorn sisters watching lovingly over the cottages that dotted the countryside. The Princesses were depicted as watchful goddesses, with their flowing manes each taking up the entire sky at one point, their manes flowing in gentle twirls across sunny day or starry night. Twilight’s eyes especially lingered upon the warm gaze of Princess Celestia, her pale pink eyes full of a knowing kindness.

They delved further down the stairway, and Twilight was forced to tear herself away from her old mentor as the mural changed. The Equestrian countryside grew dark as heavy clouds rolled into view, carrying on their backs a trio of hazy ethereal beasts with the tall, majestic bearing of horses, their flanks little more than wispy curls of grey smoke.

Wendigos. Twilight recognized the creatures from the old Hearth’s Warming legend of Equestria’s founding, despite a few noticeable differences. These wendigos were dark and grey, with flashing yellow eyes that crackled with electricity, and each sported a pair of wide sweeping wings that released torrents of water in their wake. Does anyone still remember Hearth’s Warming?

A great wave of water passed over the Equestria in the mural, and left in its wake an image of the land drowning beneath torrential rains. The peaceful cottages of the countryside were half-submerged amongst the waves of ponies stood on their roofs or hovered above the waters, all of ponykind looking up to the skies. There the two alicorn princesses faced off against the three wendigos, with powerful magic beams criss-crossing the wall. As Twilight followed Sabre further down the stairway, another wave of water washed over the land, smashing against a wall of swirling gold and blue magic.

Princess Luna was nowhere to be seen in the penultimate frame of the mural, which showed only Celestia casting a beam of magic into a huge wave of water spouting from the last remaining wendigo’s horn. The Equestrian continent was now completely submerged, though the mural did show a single island floating alone above the waves. A small swarm of pegasi seemed to be rushing between the island and the water beneath, rescuing what unflighted ponies they could find before bringing them to the safety of the island.

A flash of radiant gold separated the last part of the mural from the rest. Now both Celestia and the last wendigo were gone, leaving only the floating island sandwiched between the thick stormclouds and the raging waters beneath. A small group of ponies, mostly pegasi, huddled together on the landmass.

They came to the bottom of the stairway, the wooden door framed on top by carved clouds. Painted waves sloshed against the lower part of the door, while a few islands floated gently above.

“What is all this?” Twilight asked as Sabre opened the door. “Is this history?”

Sabre shrugged, holding the door open. “More like a legend.”

The underground part of Mr. Rich’s estate was just as impressive as the gardens and tower above, and perhaps even more expansive. Twilight had been expecting cramped corridors and darkness, but clearly the network of chambers were constructed with appearance in mind before cost. Support beams were disguised as carefully carved decorations, and no expense had been spared on lighting every corner with sparkling gold or silver lamps or chandeliers. If it wasn’t for the lack of windows or the recent descent, Twilight wouldn’t have even been able to tell that they were currently traversing the depths of an island.

They passed more ponies here, mostly servants wearing strangely colorful assortments of bow ties and trim coats that were quick to step out of the way or offer little bows before carrying on with their business. Twilight saw Rarity curling her lip more than a few times at some of the more unusual color combinations, the white unicorn letting out little titters and gasps at the very worst.

Finally they arrived at their destination, a tall wooden double door flanked on either side by hanging red curtains and chipped old statues of the alicorn princesses. Each of the doors was decorated by a trio of golden trim moneybags arranged in a tight triangle.

Sabre paused as she raised her hoof to knock, looking back to Twilight and her friends. “He can be a bit tactless sometimes, but he doesn’t mean it. Try not to get offended.”

Her knock was quickly answered by a stallion’s voice, heavily muffled by the thick wood but still clearly discernable. “Come in!”

The doors gave way with an eerie silence as Sabre pushed them open, the well-oiled hinges giving no complaint at the weight. Behind them was a wide semicircle of a room, with the curved wall made up of a series of rectangular window panes separated with thin red framing. The center of the room was dominated by two wide columns of brick, each housing a square fireplace framed in by carefully constructed arches. Tall bookshelves laden with a colorful variety of books covered the two flat walls besides the doorway, each volume thickly bound with golden trim. One side of the room had a raised wooden platform, currently vacant except for a large phonograph that was playing a quiet orchestral tune which sounded vaguely familiar to Twilight.

The remainder of the room was filled with a wild collection of mismatched furniture pieces. It was as if someone had gone out of their way to make sure that every item came from a different set, with smooth marble, intricately carved wood, gently curving glass, and even blocky stone all fighting for dominance. A pair of stallions were seated around a gently curved marble table with a glass top, in the middle of conversation.

The first, a plain brown earth pony with a black mane slicked to one side, was quick to jump off of the rainbow of pillows slathered over the carved wooden sofa he’d been reclining on. He spread his hooves wide in welcome, beaming brightly at the new arrivals.

“Ah, and these must be my latest finds! Welcome, welcome!” he said, beckoning to them eagerly. “Please, sit wherever you’d like!”

The second stallion—a unicorn—also stood, looking towards with the newcomers with a detached interest. “I didn’t know you were expecting visitors.”

The first stallion ignored the comment, making straight for Sea Sabre. “Everything went well? No issues at all?”

Sabre shook her head. “No, sir. Did you need anything else?”

“That’ll be fine, Sabre. Keep your team here for now though, alright?”

Sabre dipped her head. “Yes, sir.” She beckoned to Trails and Flint with a flick of her tail, and the three ponies promptly stepped outside, closing the door behind them.

The stallion immediately rounded on Twilight and her friends, who had remained standing near the door while they took in the scene. Rainbow Dash, who had been hovering closest to him, let out a little yelp as he reached out and snatched her hoof into an eager shake.

“Ah, you must be the fast one! And flying too, how impressive! I’m Mr. Rich, but please, just call me Crazy.”

Rainbow blinked, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards. “Uh, I’m Rainb—”

“Ah, and the two unicorns!” Mr. Rich advanced on Twilight and Rarity, reaching a hoof up to tap at the latter’s horn experimentally. “Which one of you two has the—or is it both of you? Did you have formal magic training in your youth?”

Rarity stepped back at the touch, her eyes darting side-to-side as if the garish furniture was threatening to attack her. “Well, Twilight is much better at—”

Mr. Rich had already turned to face Twilight directly. “So it’s you, then? You’re the one with that magical ability I’ve heard so much about?”

Twilight flinched back at the intensity in his gaze. Those bright silver eyes reminded her all too much of her own expression as she flipped open the cover of a fresh spellbook, eager to uncover the secrets of their target. She wasn’t sure if she wanted herself to be read quite so thoroughly.

“I’m, uh—nothing special, Mr. Rich. I only cast a few major cantrips,” she lied. A good compromise. Stronger than your average unicorn, but not enough to be noteworthy.

Mr. Rich’s eyes bored into her own as he leaned in even closer. “Multiple spells? Magnificent!” He looked over her to the door, raising his voice. “Aid!”

“Sir?”

Twilight started, looking back to see a stiff-backed attendant mare standing in the open doorway. She hadn’t even heard the hinges creak.

“Send for Aura!” he said. “Tell her to arrange for a reveal dinner for tomorrow, and then a followup next week. The best of everything!”

The attendant frowned. “We already have the ball tomorrow, sir.”

“Even better!” Crazy let loose with an excited laugh. “We shall make the reveal at the ball, then!”

The mare dipped her head as she stepped backwards, the door drifting silently closed behind her. Twilight glanced over to Pinkie Pie, and was happy to see the pink mare’s ears perked up attentively.

“Oh! Oh! Are you throwing us a party?” she asked. “Can I help? Please let me help!”

Mr. Rich gave Pinkie little more than a passing glance, instead taking a few steps backwards to address the group as a whole. “So then, guests from another time! I imagine you’re quite hungry!”

The unicorn stallion—who had been waiting alone by the marble table with faltering patience—cleared his throat loudly. “I wasn’t expecting our visit to be interrupted by other guests, Crazy.”

Mr. Rich froze for a second, and for a moment Twilight thought that he had actually forgotten that the other stallion had even been there. He recovered quickly, however, giving a friendly beckon with his head as he started for the door. “Don’t worry about it, my friend! Come along and join us for dinner!”

The double doors glided open at Mr. Rich’s approach, and the other stallion followed along with a begrudging flick of his tail. Twilight exchanged a few glances with her friends, giving Applejack a sympathetic smile as the mare re-adjusted Fluttershy’s weight on her back.

“I suppose we had better follow him,” she said.

Rainbow fluffed her wings and snorted as she landed. “I’m getting tired of all this following.”

“You and me both, sugar cube,” Applejack huffed.

“Just a little bit longer, dears,” Rarity said. “We can get some well-deserved rest and relaxation after we fill ourselves with the exquisite food that’s surely waiting for us. And perhaps have some of our questions answered, as well!”

“And he’s throwing us a party!” Pinkie Pie added.

Twilight couldn’t help but smile at the party pony’s energy. “Let’s go, girls. I think it’s been too long since we had a good meal.”

Together they followed after Mr. Rich and his guest, Pinkie and Rarity making quiet conversation at the back of the group. As much as the concept of food excited her belly, it was the enticing lure of answers that truly tugged Twilight forwards. And even though she knew a good night’s rest would be good for her, Twilight didn’t think she’d be able to truly relax for a long time.

Author's Note

Will Twilight and company finally get some answers? Will Trails ever return her "book?" Tune in next time for an exquisite dinner and the deep dive to Ponyville!

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Supplement: Twilight's Notes on Archaeology

Author's Note

This chapter is purely SUPPLEMENTAL. The content contained herein is not necessary for the enjoyment of the central story, and is intended only for readers that desire some extra context for the setting. Feel free to skip this chapter. You can always come back later.

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Supplement: Twilight's Notes on Archaeology

Research Notes, Entry Twelve
17th of May, 673 Anno Caeli, 3:22 AM

After searching through five different books on world history, ten different regional history books, and a pair of extremely well organized noble pedigrees, I’ve learned very little as to the nature of the world-shattering event that occurred in my absence. Although they’ve given me a clearer view on modern Equestrian politics and culture—and I am looking forwards to gathering more books on the subject of the various Princess cults that seem to have sprung up—their knowledge of what is now “ancient” Equestrian history is so sparse that many of them don’t even mention events further than three centuries in the past.

As it seems modern Equestrian scholars lack the knowledge I need, I’ve turned to first-hoof accounts of archaeological expeditions. It’s my hope that my personal experience with old Equestria will give me a unique perspective that may bring some new theories to light.

I’ve read several archaeological journals since Entry Eleven (17th of May, 673 Anno Caeli, 2:42 AM), and of particular note to me is Sir Sea Diver’s Survey of the Sunken City of Stalliongrad, written by the titular Sir Sea Diver—the third son of Count Cave Crawler—during a series of archaeological dives he headed from years 642–655.

The unusual thing about them is that they were in fact archaeological dives. Every other journal I’ve read were written by archaeologists on ride alongs with dedicated salvage crews, and their inability to direct their vessels or look at anything of historical value for more than a few minutes before the crew moved on in search of further salvage shows in just how broad many of their findings are.

Sir Diver’s first expedition into Stalliongrad is little more than an excuse to go hunting deep sea creatures, and reads as such. An excerpt from one of his first journal entries reads:

Keep in mind the time of year if you intend to dive around these waters. It’s early spring right now—an ideal time for deepfish hunting, as the beasts roam closer to the surface in the warmer waters—but I’ve seen the Gray [Note: The Gray is a colloquial term in the northern islands for the ice sheet that moves south during the colder months]start moving south as early as August before, sometimes at great speed. I recall a story my cousin Shoal told me of a fishing trip he’d taken late in autumn, when most of the sane folk have settled in for the off-season or gone south to keep their coat warm. He’d gone under for maybe four or five hours, and when he came up to haul his catch the ice had moved in above him! He had to travel almost a quarter mile before he found wet waves again. The daft fool even had the nerve to complain that he didn’t see anything on the ice! He isn’t all dumb, though. He’s refused to fish even a day past July ever since.

He rambles on for nearly five thousand words about fishing and weather and his cousins before returning to the dive itself. Even then, he does little more than theorize on the possible religious significance of what I believe to be the Stalliongrad industrial sector’s smokestacks before returning to the subject of “deepfish,” the term for the various monstrous breeds of fish that now populate much of the ocean below the epipelagic zone. I admit that it was interesting subject matter; the deepfish seem to have some sense for objects which disturb the ocean surface, and will rise up in schools of ever-increasing size to investigate (and subsequently attempt to eat) anything which remains there for much longer than an hour. It’s curious to note that the deepfish otherwise are observed to live largely solitary lives, and don’t seem to have any sense for objects beneath the surface.

~~I recall reading in the world history books of a period where surface vessels were used for salvage, at a time when scrap and wooden wreckage were a fairly common occurrence floating on the ocean surface. Crews would often use airships to lift themselves out of the water whenever the deepfish became too agitated, as the fish would actually slam themselves into the boats hard enough to create leaks in unarmored hulls, and eventually jump up onto the deck to bite at the crew. In fact,~~ In the interest of remaining topical, thoughts on the deepfish can be found in Addendum A to this entry.

His future journal entries are much more informative. Included in the journal are sketches done by Sea Diver’s skilled companion, Dewlight. The sketches depict battered Royal Guard helmets (Sea Diver theorized them to be ceremonial drinking bowls), bankhouses (He mistakes them for churches. How? Equestria still has banks!), and commemorative crystal pins depicting Princess Cadance (It seems Cadance’s existence is no longer common knowledge among Equestrians. He hypothesized she was a local fertility goddess.).

Reading an archaeological perspective of one’s own past is an almost surreal experience. Of course any decent scholar knows that archaeology involves a great deal of conjecture due to the general lack of context given with any artifact that’s dug up, but seeing just how wrong one pony can be in their hypothesis casts everything I’ve ever read on Old Equus into a skeptical light. I’ve included here an excerpt of Sir Sea Diver’s theories on the purpose of what I’m certain is the Stalliongrad Rail’s train tracks.

The trail consists of two steel rails, travelling in parallel throughout the entire city. Although the passage of time has warped much of it, careful measurement of the best preserved segments leads me to believe that it was designed very precisely to accommodate two full-grown mares of average build. The rails are laid across a path of heavy stone, raised above the cobble that was used in much of the city's hoofpaths, and decorated with long crystal nails that seem to have been driven into their surface with great force. Attempts to follow the rails to any form of origin point have all been for naught; they travel beyond the city in many directions, perhaps to smaller villages that might have existed into the surrounding metropolitan zone.

Based on the religious columns and large gathering buildings lining the trails, the raised surface, and the crystal used as decoration, I can only assume that that they were used for some form of religious ceremony centering on Stalliongrad’s ubiquitous fertility goddess. We’ve found more of the ceremonial bowls in structures built around the trail, and so I believe that some form of idol or altar may have been carried by teams of mares marching abreast throughout the town, while the populace would wait at these stations to shower them with praise, adoration, or pleas. From afar, it is difficult to tell whether the trails or the city came first. Perhaps these trails are marks of some arcane leyline ancient ponies drew succour from, or perhaps they were built in such a way that as many ponies as possible could reach them easily for religious satisfaction. One thing is for certain: Stalliongrad was an extremely religious settlement.

It appalls me how Sea Diver seems to see religion in almost everything he touches, despite diving in a city known for being rather cold towards the Princesses in general. On the plus side, the crystal Cadance pins tell me that whatever apocalypse befell Equestria didn’t happen more than a few years after my disappearance. I recall Cadance discussing plans to attempt to ingratiate herself to the city through distributing collectible pins to the populace in five-year increments. It’s merely a coincidence that the northern city had developed a penchant for using crystal in much of its infrastructure.

From my readings so far, it seems that the ~~loss~~ absence of the Princesses has led to a significant rise in what I’m calling “Princess cults” around Equestria. As much as I wish to read and discuss further on the subject, I shall hold myself back for now in the interest of remaining relevant to the material at hoof.

V: The Deep

The dining room was larger than Twilight’s old library all on its own.

Twilight was only growing more and more impressed by Mr. Rich’s estate. She’d seen many lavish towers and verdant gardens amongst the High Canterlot nobility in her youth, but the network of expansive chambers and well-lit tunnels within Mr. Rich’s island rivaled even the old spell crypts Twilight had perused beneath the Starswirl Wing in the Canterlot Library.

I wonder how common these are? Twilight thought, thinking of the floating islands she’d seen so far. Many of them had seemed thoroughly tunneled out. Perhaps the lack of land had spurred the development of advanced tunneling techniques?

Twilight shook her head, mentally filing the question away with the hundreds of others in the back of her mind. She pointedly ignored the carefully assembled model airships along the sides of the dining room, averted her gaze from the star chart painted on the vaulted ceiling, and forced herself to look only at the table before her.

It was a huge wooden affair, with space enough for two dozen and food to feed them. Crystal bowls of fruit lined up in the middle of the table between steaming pots of soup. A heady aroma filled the air as each soup radiated its own alluring smell. Exotic garnishes and samples of small pastries took up what little room remained. It was a dinner fit for royalty, and Twilight might have spent hours deciding where to start if an attendant unicorn mare hadn’t helpfully poured some soup into her bowl with a mouth-held ladle. Twilight leaned forwards, letting out an appreciative hum as she took a sniff. Mmm. Smells like cucumber.

“Thank you,” Twilight said as the mare silently drew back.

“And thank you, Mr. Rich,” Rarity said, “for inviting us to dine with you!”

“Please, call me Crazy,” the stallion said. “You all may feel free to as much food as you desire. I have many questions for you, but I’m sure you have even more for me! So, as my guests: Ask away.”

Ask away. The words raced through Twilight’s mind in much the same way that a spark traveled up a lit fuse. In an instant she had tossed her mental filing cabinets to the floor, greedily plucking her most pressing questions from the pile—too slow.

Rarity, ever the social climber, had beaten her to it. “I was curious, Crazy, darling. What exactly do you do?”

Crazy Rich smiled the smile of a stallion getting ready to answer his favorite question. “I am an entrepreneur and a business pony, like my fathers before me. I invest in prospects that catch my eye and reap the rewards of their success. I believe you all have already become familiar with one of my more recent investments: Long Haul Salvage.”

Rainbow Dash snorted, gulping down the rest of her soup before speaking. “You mean those goons you had watching us? Real great investment there, pal. They don’t look like they’ve had a customer in weeks!” She paused, adding in a quieter voice to the closest attendant, “Can I get some more of this?”

Crazy smiled as the attendant poured Rainbow another serving. “I don’t invest my money with profits in mind, my friend. I have plenty of staff charged with ensuring that the Rich Family fortune remains healthy. I’m more in the business of curiosity. And in my business, even a single one of you mares would be worth a thousand times the money I’ve spent.”

Twilight frowned as she raised her muzzle out of her bowl. She couldn’t help but be reminded of what Flint had said when they’d first left Canterlot. “No salvage.” She forced herself to remember that she and her friends had accepted the dinner invitation of their own volition, and not dragged along in chains. Then again, it’s not like we had any better options.

Twilight was just swallowing her mouthful of soup when Crazy’s other guest, who had been listening quietly over his half-empty bowl of broth, leaned forwards. “Crazy, who exactly are these mares?”

“I’m glad you asked, Whitehorn,” Crazy said. He grinned, waving a hoof and raising his voice with a theatrical flourish. “Behold my latest and greatest discovery! Six Gifted mares, found frozen in stasis in the deepest halls of Old Canterlot!”

He has that look again, Twilight thought. Are we anything but prizes to be shown off to him?

Whitehorn gagged mid-drink, spitting a torrent of grape-apple cider into his soup. “What? Gifted? Six Gifted?”

Crazy nodded enthusiastically, though he didn’t respond right away. Perhaps he wanted to let the question hang in the air for some time, but that didn’t matter to Twilight. Seeing her chance, she slammed both hooves onto the table and shouted the first question on her list.

“What happened to Equestria?”

Twilight’s ears drooped briefly as all eyes turned onto her. She hadn’t meant to be quite so loud, or to cause several soup pots to slosh their contents onto the fine wooden surface of the table. Either way, she’d satisfied the urge that had been triggered by the prompt to “Ask away.” A little bit, anyways.

She cleared her throat, recovering her composure. “I mean, uh, sorry. We’re all just very confused about what’s… happened. The last thing I remember is changelings attacking Canterlot and then… all this. Everypony just keeps telling us that it isn’t the time to answer questions, but I think that this is the time. So…” Twilight paused to take a hasty gulp of water. For some reason her tongue felt suddenly dry. “Could you please tell us what happened to Equestria? Where all of these floating islands came from? The water? The Gifted? Just—”

Twilight stopped herself as Crazy lifted a hoof kindly. She took a deep breath. One question at a time.

“Don’t worry, my dear. I can answer your questions, or try, if nothing else. But just one last thing, first. It strikes me that I still don’t know any of your names.”

Twilight blinked, slightly taken aback yet also relieved. If he was asking for names, then at the very least he recognized they were, on some level, individual ponies and not purely relics. Still, she didn’t think it would be wise to reveal her relationship with the Princess just yet. “Certainly. My name is Twilight Sparkle.”

“Ah, yes. The protege of Princess Celestia herself, wasn’t it?” Crazy smiled knowingly.

In retrospect, Twilight thought, I suppose it was silly to think Sabre wouldn’t have told him about that. She smiled back, wondering what the strange stallion was thinking. Had he realized that she’d been actively withholding, or did he even care at all?

“And I am Rarity,” Rarity said. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintances.”

“Ah’m Applejack. This here is Fluttershy.” Applejack pointed to the seat next to her, where Fluttershy was slumped over in her deep sleep. “Ah hope Sabre told y’all ‘bout her, uh, issue.”

“Hi, I’m Pinkie Pie!” Pinkie said. “I’m friends with, well… everyone at the table, I guess…” She trailed off, mane drooping.

Rainbow was the last to answer, rolling her eyes as she finished off her third bowl of soup. “Rainbow Dash.”

“And I, as you know, am Crazy Rich.” Crazy waved a hoof to his other guest, who was sitting to his right. “This is my associate, Whitehorn. We were just discussing a possible investment before your arrival, though I’m afraid that discussion will have to be postponed.”

“I understand entirely,” Whitehorn said. “I certainly wouldn’t want to get in the way of such a miraculous discovery.” His demeanor had a made a complete turnaround. Where before he had seemed offended by the interruption of his meeting, now he was all smiles. Twilight didn’t think the smile quite reached his eyes, however.

“Excellent.” Crazy cleared his throat and pushed his barely touched bowl aside. An attendant swiftly replaced it with a fresh dish bearing a tall, gold-frosted pastry. “Down to business, then! I can assure you all that your friend Fluttershy will receive the best care in Heighton, with my blessing. I would in fact like to extend an invitation for you all to stay here with me, as long as you like.” He smiled as Rarity let out an excited squeal. “But you don’t have to answer just yet. I think you’ve waited long enough already for your explanations.”

He paused, taking a thoughtful bite of his dessert. “The core of the matter, unfortunately, is that we know little more than yourselves about what happened. We know that most Equestrian knowledge was stored in either The Royal Canterlot Library or its sister project, The Grand Marshal’s Almanac in Cloudsdale. That said, none of the few expeditions that have braved Old Canterlot’s ruins have ever found the library, and Cloudsdale is just one of the many pegasus cities that nopony has ever found.”

“Hey! I know where Cloudsdale is,” Rainbow said. “I was born there. I don’t care if anyone else wants to come, but I’m definitely going home when I get the chance.”

And I know the Canterlot libraries inside and out, Twilight thought. She decided not to say anything just yet.

Crazy’s ears had perked up at Rainbow’s announcement, and he shared an excited glance with Whitehorn. “I had hoped one of you might say something like that. Our knowledge of the world before the flood is little more than half-truths at best, or lost amongst myth at worst. We know that alicorns were once real beings that guided Equestrian history and controlled the skies, and that ponykind lived on the surface in harmony alongside a dozen other races. We know next to nothing about whatever calamity befell the world, but our legends tell of a great disaster only narrowly avoided through the sacrifice of the princesses.

“Everything else is just bits and pieces put together by ancient historians, mythologists, and archaeological salvage crews over hundreds of years.

“This is where you mares come in,” Crazy said. He paused to take a sip of cider. “You say you were alive before the floods. That makes you priceless sources of information. It’s next to impossible for us to discover new ruins without detailed maps or records found at an old one, and paper doesn’t last long underwater. But with your help, we could discover dozens of a new sites in a month, where any other crew might only find a single one after a decade of careful study!”

He stopped to take a breath and another long pull of cider. He was practically shaking now, his ears flicking about as he beamed at each of the mares in turn. “I admit that I hadn’t expected to find much when I sent Sea Sabre and her crew into Old Canterlot, but she has brought me you, and you are the greatest breakthrough in Equestrian archaeology since—well, since the start of the modern Equestria! I can give you all anything that you need or want. I can give you grand rooms to stay in and meals cooked by the greatest of chefs. And, perhaps most important of all—” He drained the last of his cider. “—I can give you the tools to find the answers you seek yourself. There is nopony alive who could tell you what you want, but with my crew, my money, and your knowledge of pre-flood Equestria, you could solve the mystery yourselves.” He leaned back in his seat and took a deep breath, as if he had just ran a marathon. An attendant silently refilled his glass. “So then, what do you say?”

Yes, yes, yes! Twilight just barely stopped herself from shouting her agreement right there. The offer truly did sound like exactly what they needed—or at least the next best thing. With the Argo and its crew at their disposal, she and her friends could dive down into the sunken ruins of their old home and piece together the broken past themselves. She could return to her library and perhaps find the books she would need to pull Fluttershy from her magically induced coma. She could discover what happened to Equestria, and what had happened to the Princesses.

And maybe, just maybe, she could even bring them back. Make things how they had been before.

But it wasn’t her decision to make alone. She looked to her friends, locking eyes with each of them in turn. She could read them just as well as they could read the barely restrained “Yes!” in her eyes. Applejack trusted her to unearth the necessary means to return things to how they should be. Pinkie Pie trusted her to discover what had happened to all of her friends. Rarity trusted her to lead them into the new future. Rainbow was uncertain still, but would remain steadfast at her side whatever she chose. Fluttershy had no choice but to rely on her to cure her of her mysterious ailment.

Twilight smiled. She had her friend’s support. The decision was made.

“We accept.”

“Alright, are you ready?” The deep roar of the Argo’s engines had forced Sea Sabre to shout the question as they stood atop the deck of the crew’s submarine.

Twilight took a deep breath, glancing to Applejack and Rainbow Dash besides her before giving a shaky nod.

It had only been a little over twenty hours since the dinner with Crazy Rich. After talking with her friends they had all agreed that there was no reason to delay, and made plans for an expedition the next morning. Rarity and Pinkie had stayed behind to watch Fluttershy, and also to attend the ball Crazy had planned for that evening. Twilight, Rainbow, and Applejack had set out for the Argo. Surprisingly enough, the vessel and its crew had already been completely resupplied, waiting only for their arrival.

And now here she was, teeth chattering from the vibration as the Argo lowered itself into the propeller-churned waters. They had made for Canterlot Mountain first, with Rainbow Dash using it as a reference and guiding the pilot to a patch of indistinct ocean that “just felt about right.”

It wasn’t a precise art, but it was something.

Sabre beckoned for the open hatch. “Get in!” Twilight nodded, careful to keep her balance as waves sloshed over the deck, and climbed down the ladder. She sighed in relief as she stepped off the last rung and onto the relatively dry safety of the sub floor. Trails and Flint had already boarded, and Sea Sabre closed the hatch behind her as she followed Rainbow and Applejack through.

Sabre shimmied past Twilight, calling ahead to the cockpit. “We’re on! Drop the clamps!”

Star Trails voice sounded back from ahead. “Clamps off!”

A metallic groan passed through the ship, and Twilight braced herself on a bulkhead to keep from falling as the sub gave a fearsome lurch. Steadying herself, she followed after Sea Sabre.

“Engines!” Sabre yelled.

Flint’s voice echoed back. “Revving up!”

Bursts of steam puffed from pipes above and below. The ticking of gears and clockwork machinery sprung into life, quiet at first, but quickly growing into a steady rattle throughout the hull.

Finally they arrived at the cockpit, Sabre taking her position at the front of the room while Twilight and her friends fanned out at the back. Star Trails and Flintlock were waiting at their stations to the left and right sides, respectively.

“Alright, let’s dive,” Sabre said, tugging at a lever. “We’ll do a spiral down, then a search grid if we still haven’t found anything.”

“Sounds good to me,” Rainbow said. She leaned against the wall casually, smoothing down her drab gray-green uniform. “How long is this gonna take?”

“Hard to say,” Trails said. The waves began to lap higher up on the viewing port as the sub dipped under the surface. “It could take anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour just getting within scan range of the surface. Who knows how long it might take to actually find anything. It would probably take us… what, ten hours to sweep the whole area? Then there’s the question of actually searching it.” She shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time we spent a few days on a dive.”

“Days?” Rainbow tossed her hooves up as she slumped over. “Days in this little boat! Why did I even come?”

“Don’t y’all worry none, sugar cube.” Applejack sat against the doorframe, pulling her hat down over her eyes. “Twilight’ll just need to grab some books from her library and we’re done. We’ll be in and out in a jiffy.”

Flint turned away from his station, arching a brow. “Books? Y’mean to tell me we’re comin’ down here to collect a buncha soakin’ wet paper?”

“Dry books, actually,” Twilight quipped. “The library was my home. I had enchantments which will have kept it dry.” I hope.

“Wow, really?” Trails shook her head incredulously. “You really are Gifted. Levitation, magic blasts, and an enchantment too? Alright, we’re at scanning level.” The quiet tinkling of magic joined the cacophony of gears as her horn began to glow.

“I’m pretty gifted myself, actually,” Rainbow Dash said. She fluffed her wings up proudly. “Fastest flier in all of Equestria.”

Rainbow continued to brag to the room in general, but Twilight quickly tuned her out. She was more interested in what Trails was doing. The mare had her eyes closed, horn glowing and channeling magic into a pale white sphere, roughly the size of a hoof, set into the terminal before her.

Curious, Twilight closed her own eyes and reached out with her arcane senses. She felt the leylines in the water around her, and was perturbed to realize that they weren’t much like those she remembered around Ponyville. They were weaker and more disordered. Then again, hundreds of years must have passed since she last came here. Leylines had been observed drifting before.

Setting the question aside for now, she instead focused on the orb in Trails’ terminal. It was magically conductive—very much so. Twilight didn’t recognize the material, but its resonance did seem familiar to her, almost like the taste of childhood meal long forgotten. She sent an experimental ping of magic into it, and discovered a trio of matching orbs lining the bottom of the submarine. Each one was connected to the others via a vein-like network of the strange material, all laid into the hull of the sub.

Hrm. Twilight turned her attention to Trails herself. The other unicorn was channeling a spell, although weakly. It seemed to function similarly to echolocation, albeit only with a narrow cone of magical pings instead of spherical sound waves.

The spell itself—like most cutie mark spells—was needlessly obtuse. It was a creature of instinct rather than design, full of loose ends and pointless redundancy. Still, it only took Twilight a few minutes of observation and a half-dozen tries to get it right. She clopped her hooves against the floor in satisfaction as she used the spell to make a mental map of the sub interior.

Amazing! With a few modifications this spell could have limitless practical application. She couldn’t wait to send a paper to—

Twilight cut the thought off in an instant.

She understood now what Trails was doing. She was using her spell as spotlight on the seafloor, searching for irregularities in shape and material. No wonder it takes so long! But with the proper adjustments…

Twilight sent a burst of magic into Trail’s terminal. It took only a few seconds for the pulse to return, bringing with it a mental map of the seafloor over a kilometer around, as well as its material—

A thrill of fear raced through her mind. Her eyes shot wide open as she fell out of her trance, her horn surging in an instinctive reaction—

A sharp crack like the snapping of bone filled the cramped confines of the sub as the pale white sphere before Trails suddenly shattered. Glowing white, razor-sharp pieces of shrapnel bounced around the cockpit, eliciting shouts of alarm from the ponies assembled within.

“What the hay! Status report!” Sabre shouted.

Rainbow Dash had bounced to her hooves in an instant, wings flared. “Did something hit us?”

Flint was already standing, glaring at Twilight. “No. It was her,” he growled.

Trails had fallen away from the blast in a clumsy dodge. Her face and forelegs were marred by a series of shallow cuts, and a few pieces of shrapnel had embedded themselves in her legs. “What the buck was that, Twilight?”

“Sorry! Sorry!” Twilight backed towards the door, her friends forming a protective line in front of her. “It was an accident, I was just trying to help!”

“Some help,” Trails muttered, picking herself up off the floor. She sighed as she looked over her tattered uniform and fresh cuts.

“What were ye tryin’, eh?” Flint asked, advancing on Twilight. “Tryin’ t’take us out? Take our gear?”

Applejack and Rainbow Dash were quick to block his way, the cowpony speaking first. “C’mon now, partner. Ah’m sure it’s just some simple misunderstandin’. Ain’t no need to get all rough ‘n tumble-like.”

Sea Sabre stomped a hoof, cutting off Flint’s rebuttal. “Stand down, Flint!” Her voice quieted slightly, but it didn’t lose its edge. “Trails, go patch yourself up. There was no real harm done; it’s just a shattered focus. We’ll just have to head back home and fit a replacement before we can continue scanning.”

“Yes ma’am.” Flint flicked his tail, but offered no protest. “I’ll go n’ help Trails.”

Sea Sabre let out a heavy sigh as she returned to her controls. “You’ll have to excuse him. He’s not very trusting of strangers, and he isn’t happy about them telling us where to go.”

Applejack cocked her head. “And what about y’all, Sabre?”

Sabre’s face remained expressionless. The sub rocked gently as she began to reverse the dive. “It’s not my job to judge the chain of command.”

Twilight took a series of deep breaths, allowing her heartbeat to return to normal. “We don’t have to resurface, Sabre. I was mimicking Trails’ spell when I… well, you know. Ponyville starts just eight hundred meters southwest of here.”

Sabre looked back, arching a brow. “Really? Hrm. Quite impressive, though I’d appreciate it if you warned me before trying that again.” The sub began to dive once more, rocking slightly to one side as it turned.

Twilight sat against the door frame, still shaky. Looking around the room she saw Applejack watching her intently. The question was obvious on the mare’s face. Twilight locked eyes with her and gave a subtle shake of her head. Not now. Later. Applejack nodded in response.

In retrospect, it was lucky that Twilight had accidentally shattered the focus. It gave her an excuse for the erratic behavior.

The spell had worked perfectly, of course. The modified arcane pulse had traveled forth from the foci beneath the sub to the seafloor in a much wider cone than Trails’ original version, returning with data on what it hit and where. It only took a few seconds afterwards for the spell to translate what it found to Twilight’s subconscious. It gave her an instinctive familiarity with the seafloor, but the pulse had also told her about the pale white material of the focus itself. In that instant, Twilight had realized why the thing had felt so familiar. It had become clear to her like a trick painting, the image coming to light only from the proper angle.

It was the dismembered horns of unicorns, ground up and then smelted together.

The remainder of the dive was made in near total silence. The accident had left behind a tension braved only by the creaking of the hull and the dull roar of the ocean, and it only grew once Trails and Flint returned to the room. The former had white bandages wrapped around her worst cuts, and the latter was just as leery as when he’d left. And so, Twilight was left to her thoughts.

Twilight was well aware of the multitude of horror stories surrounding hornbane. Pegasus sorcerers and earth pony druids would dig up dead unicorns—or simply abduct living off the streets—and use the severed horns for their own brand of magic. Even some unicorn warlocks had used the horns of their enemies to amplify their own power. The art had been outlawed for a thousand years, and taboo for even longer. Stumbling upon it—even using it herself—had been an alarming surprise, like suddenly discovering that one’s blanket was actually a hissing viper. Alarming enough that Twilight’s first instinct was to cast the thing away, shattering it with a powerful dose of pure mana.

On the other hoof, there was a possible benign explanation. Of the three substances known to conduct magic—the other two being dragonbone and moondust—horn was far easier to obtain. Everything Twilight had seen so far suggested that magic was growing weaker, and the floods would have drastically increased the ease of… acquiring unicorn horn. Perhaps hornbane was just a regular commodity now, dug up by salvage crews and sold to the few ponies even capable of using it.

Twilight was pulled from her thoughts by a shift in the steady rocking of the submarine. She blinked, looking up to see a pile of algae-bound wooden beams illuminated by the sub’s powerful headlights.

“Looks like you were right,” Sabre said. She glanced back at Twilight. “Where’s this library of yours?”

“Uh, turn to the left a little,” Twilight said. She and her friends stepped closer to the viewport as Sabre complied, and the rubble drifted out of sight. “Alright, we’re on the main thoroughfare. Just go straight.”

The sub drifted forwards at a glacial pace under Sea Sabre’s guidance. The oppressive darkness made it impossible to see anything that wasn’t directly in front of the submarine, and if it wasn’t for the occasional rotten wagon, collapsed home, or weathered skull upon the path it would have been easy to pass right through the town none the wiser of its existence.

“Woah. This is some find,” Trails said, peering out the view port. “We’ve gotta mark this place for later.”

“Why?” Rainbow asked accusingly. “So you can loot it for all it’s worth and never come back again?” She was watching the viewport as well, though with an entirely different expression.

Flint snorted, grinning. “That’s what we do, little mare.”

It’s a strange thing, Twilight thought, Seeing your home so long after its destruction has already come and gone. Even to her, the town was unrecognizable. The immense pressure of the ocean above had torn down all but the sturdiest structures over time, and the powerful current had scattered the lighter pieces far and wide, leaving only the heavy wooden skeletons of the town behind. She would’ve been lost without Trails’ spell. Even as her conscious mind searched futilely for any recognizable landmark, her subconscious continued to feed her directions to relay to Sabre. Even with its aid, however, she still couldn’t pick out a single familiar sight.

Finally the sub’s twin beams alighted on the distinctive tree-shape of Twilight’s library, its branches lying shattered around its base but the trunk still standing tall.

“That’s it,” Twilight said, throat tightening. “There’s my home.”

“Ye lived in a tree?” Flint grunted. “Ye some kinda faerie or somethin’?”

“Woodsong is a relatively common talent,” Twilight breathed, placing a hoof softly against the viewport. The old tree looked so different with its branches broken and its neighbors collapsed around it. The ocean-filtered headlights cast a cold blue pallor over it, like moonlight shining on a gravestone.

“You actually lived in a magic treehouse.” Trails shook her head, mumbling, “The stories are all turning true.”

“Alright Flint, suit up,” Sabre said. “Let’s blow our way in and grab what we need.”

“No!” Twilight turned to Sabre, eyes wide. “We can’t interrupt the superstructure, or the spell will break! It won’t be able to withstand the water pressure without the enchantment.”

Sabre frowned. “So what’s your plan, then?”

“Simple enough,” Twilight said. “I’ll teleport inside, then come back with the books I need.”

“Really? Teleportation?” Trails tossed her hooves up and slumped down in her seat. “Does it ever end?”

Rainbow Dash shrugged. “Not really.”

“I’ll trust that you know your limitations,” Sabre said. She turned back to Flint. “Grab the spare dive suit.”

Twilight waved a hoof dismissively, horn already charging. “It’s fine, Sabre. This is my area of expertise! I’ll be in and out in a few minutes.”

Twilight flinched as one of Sabre’s hooves flashed out, grabbing tight onto her horn and fizzling the magic. “And my area of expertise is getting us to the bottom of the ocean and back in one piece. You will follow Flint, don a suit, and exit through the airlock before teleporting.”

“Okay!” Twilight buckled quickly under the fierce gaze. Those steely red eyes could rival Luna herself in ferocity. “Sorry, sorry!”

Tearing herself away from the view of her library, Twilight headed for the back of the sub. Two sets of hoofsteps followed, and she glanced back to see her friends behind her.

“That Sea Sabre mare is so rude,” Rainbow muttered.

“Shucks, Rainbow, she’s just doin’ her job,” Applejack said. “I know y’all want to get back at whoever done all this, but ya can’t be harrassin’ everypony that disagrees with ya.”

“Whatever, AJ.”

They arrived at the crew quarters of the sub, a tiny room squashed between the storeroom and the engine room. Two bunks were stacked against the port wall, with a series of four lockers opposite. Flint was already there, setting out a bulky suit of armor on the lower bed.

“Hey Flint, grab me one of those too,” Rainbow said. She flapped her wings, alighting on the top bunk. “I’m going out with Twilight.”

Flint laughed, shutting the locker with a rear leg. “Sorry, but ye’re outta luck, little mare. We only carry one spare.”

Rainbow fluffed her wings, frowning. “Well can’t I just borrow one of yours? You guys aren’t using them.”

Flint snorted. “Nopony touches Sabre’s gear but Sabre, and Trails’ has all sorts’a doohickeys and complicated bits in it. As for mine, I jus’ don’t feel like sharin’.” He beckoned to Twilight. “C’mon here, magic filly. Let me get this on ye.”

“It’s okay, Rainbow,” Twilight said. She walked over to Flint, who held up a thick metallic chestpiece for her to step into.

Rainbow seemed to be searching for some clever rebuttal, but Applejack spoke first. “Don’t let ‘em bother y’all none, RD. Ain’t nothing we can do about stubborn lack of hospitality.”

“Watch yerself, cowfilly.” Flint began to clamp segmented metal barding over Twilight’s legs, attaching them to the barrelpiece. “Traily might like t’make friendly, but far as I’m concerned yer jus’ another job.”

“And what about Sea Sabre, huh?” Rainbow asked. “What’s up with her?”

“Hah!” Flint let out a single baritone guffaw as he secured an oxygen tank to each of Twilight’s flanks. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with her, little mare. Sabre brings everypony home, and she don’t like it when anypony gets in the way of that, no matter who it is. Ye just have t’excuse her if she gets a bit rough. She never learned how t’drop her sergeant voice.”

The only piece left of the armor was the helmet, which Flint lowered carefully over Twilight’s head. She suppressed a whimper as she was enveloped in near-total darkness, her vision focused only through a pair of iron-banded glass eyeholes. She felt the armor tighten around her as he fastened the helmet, causing a series of metallic dings to echo in her ears. Flint stepped to the side of her, out of view, and she stood there for a few seconds with only her own nervous breathing to keep her company. She had never been one for claustrophobia, but the armor was enough to make her heart race ever so slightly. For a moment she had a fantasy of the cold metal clamping around her neck, draining the life out of her.

Twilight yelped as a loud whirring burst into being by her ear.

Flint’s laugh sounded tinny and distant as he stepped into view before her. “Alright, magic filly, ye’re ready to dive. The helmet is connected t’the sub by radio, so we’ll hear anything ye say. There’s a little pedal in each hoof, too. Just push down with yer hooftip and it’ll activate a little airjet for mobility. Go ahead ‘n try it out.”

Twilight gave an experimental push with a hooftip. The whirring in her ear accelerated, and she stumbled to one side as a valve near her hoof jettisoned hot steam.

“That’s really all ye need t’know for a simple suit like that,” Flint said. He turned for the door. “Let’s get ye in the lock, then.”

Twilight followed him clumsily, her body heavy and unresponsive within the hard shell of armor. The eyeholes were so narrow that she couldn’t see where she was stepping and where she was going at the same time. Flint stopped next to the ladder in the center of the sub, spinning a hefty wheel set into a hatch beside it. The hatch creaked open with a high squeal, revealing a small chamber with another hatch set into the far wall.

“Get in, if ye would,” Flint said.

Twilight took a deep breath, looking to her friends. She could clearly see the worry in their eyes even as they tried to hide it, so she made an attempt at putting a confident smile on. Then she realized they couldn’t even see her face. Probably for the better. “Don’t worry about me, girls. I’ll be back soon.”

“Y’all just be careful, Twi,” Applejack said. “A lot of time has passed. Y’all don’t know what might be waitin’ for ya.”

“Pfft.” Rainbow Dash gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “She could zap anything down there in 10 seconds flat. Don’t take too long, alright, Twilight?”

“Sure thing.” With a nod, Twilight stepped into the airlock. The hatch shut behind her with a groan, and Twilight looked back to see the wheel spinning round with a loud clicking. For several seconds, she stood alone with nothing but her breathing and the steady whirring of the suit to keep her company.

“Flooding in five seconds.”

Twilight jumped as she heard Sea Sabre’s voice, distorted by static yet still clear. It sounded as if it had come from right between her ears.

There was a loud clank, and then the hiss of steam as water began to fill the room. Twilight shifted side-to-side uneasily as the water level rose past her knees, then her legs, barrel and neck. A shiver ran down her spine as she was submerged completely, and for a brief moment she was back in the changeling pod, drowning in the darkness.

Trails’ voice reached her ears, quieter than Sabre’s, as if she was shouting from a distance. “Hey now, don’t forget to breathe!”

Oh, right. She hadn’t even realized that she’d been holding her breath. She finally exhaled, mind returning to the present as the room finished flooding. A trail of bubbles began to float from her muzzle, up past her eyeholes.

“Open the hatch, Twilight,” Sabre’s voice said. “That suit doesn’t have any buoyancy controls, but it’s set to keep you from sinking too fast. Step outside.”

“Alright, then,” Twilight muttered, more to herself than anyone else. Although the armor blocked the glow of her horn, she still took some comfort in the familiar purple light of her magic as it embraced the wheel and pushed the hatch open. A torrent of bubbles flooded out of the airlock as Twilight stepped up to the open hatch. She peered down over the edge, and she was surprised to see a flashlight following her gaze. There must be a lamp on the helmet. What had turned it on, though? Was it water sensitive?

With a mental shrug, Twilight stepped out of the sub. All at once she was consumed with a terrible feeling of isolation, falling near-weightlessly through the oppressive darkness. Finally she hit the seafloor, knees bending against the impact, and let out a sigh of relief at its solidity. Looking up, the sub was nearly invisible above her. Its dark silhouette was outlined only by its own headlights.

“I’m on the ground,” she said, turning towards her home. “Heading for my library now."

“Roger that.”

As clumsy as the armor was inside of the sub, it was even more cumbersome outside. The heavy water resisted her every motion and made every step a challenge. After a few meters, Twilight began to move in leaps instead, jumping with the assistance of the airjets on her legs.

She wasn’t even halfway there and she was already getting tired. Her breathing beat a heavy rhythm within the confines of the helmet, only momentarily drowned out when she triggered her airjets and the suit’s quiet whirring grew louder.

Was it possible for anything to live down here, with only the freezing cold and the oppressive darkness for sustenance? Twilight made a jet-assisted leap over a pile of half-buried, cracked bones. Her light didn’t illuminate the thick wooden beam embedded in the sand until she was almost upon it, and she cried out as it struck her legs, throwing her into a dizzying forwards spin. She landed on her back with a loud grunt, kicking up a cloud of loose sand around her.

“Twilight!” Rainbow’s voice sounded far too close in her helmet. “Twilight, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I just… tripped is all,” Twilight said, coughing as she recovered her breath.

There was the sound of a brief scuffle over the radio, and Sabre’s voice spoke to her next. “Any damage?”

“No, I’m fine.” She counted to ten, slowing her pounding heart. “I’m just going to take a little break.”

“Acknowledged.”

She lay there for perhaps another minute, watching the bubbles drip upwards into the darkness. It was strangely peaceful, the nothingness. For a moment she wished that she knew how to turn the light off on her armor, so she could simply embrace the darkness, embrace the emptiness and fall into the trance-like in and out of her breath.

But she didn’t have the luxury of time. She carefully heaved herself to her hooves. She made the rest of the journey at more careful pace, making sure to take shorter jumps and watch carefully for obstacles.

She couldn’t have been outside of the sub for ten minutes total, yet it felt like hours had passed when she finally arrived at the wooden door to her library. She raised a hoof and ran it gently over the wood, sheltered from an ocean’s worth of erosion by the powerful enchantment she had placed on it so long ago. A preservation spell, one of a magnitude powerful enough to resist the apocalypse itself. Just in case.

The spell was strong, but it wasn’t a shield. It would only resist natural weathering and decay, and so the tree must not have been hit by any form of direct attack. Many of the outer branches, out of range of the spell, had been broken away, and the leaves were far too weak to survive even with its protection, but the spell had done its job.

The one peculiarity was that the spell acted, in some ways, like a sealed plastic bag. To open a door or window or even blow a hole into the side would destroy the seal, and after so long it would collapse spectacularly. The tree would almost definitely buckle under the full weight of the ocean, flooding as the windows and doors cracked and shattered. Opening the door wasn’t an option.

Luckily, Twilight was adept at teleportation. The heavy armor would impede her accuracy, but from this range the risk was negligible. She fixed her gaze on the candle image emblazoned on the door, and wished that she could feel it just one more time. But she had no way to remove the armor, and she needed it to survive here in the depths. She was so close, close enough to touch it, and yet she would never truly be able to return home again.

With a heavy sigh, she lit her horn and cast the spell. For a split instant her world was purple, and then back to the same darkness pierced only by her flashlight. She seemed to have missed slightly, coming back out a half a meter or so above the floor.

She landed heavily on something round. A sickening crunch like the shattering of bones echoed throughout the tree.

Twilight shone her light forwards, and she screamed.

Author's Note

What feral beast was waiting for Twilight within her tree? How will Rarity fare at Mr. Rich's ball? Will Twilight ever become a competent moonwalker? Find out next time on Empty Horizons!

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VI: The Lost

“Hmm.” Rarity twisted before the mirrors yet again, pouting thoughtfully. “It will have to do.”

The trio of aides in the room with her let out a collective sigh, and Rarity couldn’t help but smile. They’d been run ragged over the last few hours fetching clothes and accessories for her, and they deserved some rest.

“I’ll be fine for now, dears!” she said. “I’ll be sure to call if I need anything.”

They were quick to slip out of the door of her chamber, just one of the six lavish bedrooms that made up the suite. Each of the rooms had come complimentary with an assortment of clothes, but as far as Rarity could tell each collection had been explicitly designed so that every possible uniform contained at least three horrifically clashing pieces. She didn’t know who it was that handled Mr. Rich’s attire, but they were clearly not as skilled as his architect.

It had only taken her a few hours to finally assemble a worthy outfit, each individual piece sourced from a different corner of the vast estate. A pale blue dress to match her eyes, along with complementary rose socks and a matching shawl formed the base of the outfit. She’d built upon it with an array of matching accessories: a trio of bead necklaces, some exquisitely sparkling glass shoes, a single silver bracelet and a matching pendant that she wore at the base of her horn.

She hummed to herself cheerily as she cast a spell, the magic swiftly collecting the various discarded clothes from the corners of the room before folding them up and stacking them neatly upon the bed. With one last flutter of her carefully curled eyelashes at the mirror, she stepped out into the common room.

“Pinkie, darling!” She called. “I do hope you’ve made yourself proper by now! The ball started half an hour ago!”

Please be proper. Please be proper. Pinkie had promised her that she would “dress up” for the ball, but Pinkie never seemed to have quite the same definitions as her.

“Here I am!” Pinkie hopped out of Fluttershy’s room. The idea of a party seemed to have given her back some more of her old energy, but it clearly hadn’t helped her sense of fashion.

“Pinkie, that’s not dressing up,” Rarity sighed.

Pinkie cocked her head. “What? But I have a bow tie!” She waved a hoof over the blue-and-yellow polka dot tie fastened to her neck.

“Yes, but you’re not wearing anything else! Oh, forget it.” Rarity started for the door with a huff. She should’ve known better than to trust Pinkie with her own fashion. Hundreds of years had passed since the last time she did that and it still haunted her dreams. “Come along, Pinkie. If we dither much longer we’ll be too late.”

“We’re already late,” Pinkie said as she fell in besides Rarity.

“Yes, I know that,” Rarity said. She paused as they came out into the corridor, trying to recall the path to the ballroom. “But we aren’t too late, yet. We’re just late enough to be noticeable, but not so late as to seem distant. Ah! This way.”

“I hope this isn’t one of those boring parties,” Pinkie said, a spring in her step. “Parties always seem to get boring when ponies call them something else. Especially balls.”

“Oh, as if!” Rarity turned to look at Pinkie, eyes widening. “When did you put on a hat?”

Pinkie shrugged. She was now sporting a tall blue top hat with a yellow band around the base. “You said I wasn’t dressed up enough.”

Rarity pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Well… I suppose it is better.”

They arrived at the long staircase which led up and out of the underlevels of the estate, and began the long climb upwards. Rarity wasn’t exactly sure what the social environment was like in the future, but what she was sure about was that she was the best suited of her friends to tackle it. Rainbow Dash and Applejack might be well-suited to helping Twilight plumb the depths in that horrendously loud airship and its tiny submarine, but she would be the one to represent them to the world at large. She knew that Mr. Rich intended to “show them off,” as it were, and it was her every intent to exploit that angle as she maneuvered herself into place. With luck, she may even open up some useful new contacts.

The staircase was much longer when one was going upwards, and the smothering weight of her clothes certainly didn’t help. Rarity grimaced as she felt a bead of sweat drip down her forehead.

At last they reached the top. Rarity pushed the door open with her magic, strutting out with head held high, ready to impress.

Nopony noticed.

In retrospect, there was no reason they would. The crowd of well-to-do mares and stallions were probably already engrossed in their own political dance as they drifted about the floor, and Mr. Rich had probably been keeping his “find” quiet leading up to the reveal. She was nothing more than another attractive mare, though one with an impeccable eye for fashion.

A live band played an upbeat jazz piece from the stairs, with an energetic clarinet providing the melody alongside a number of swinging saxophones and other brass instruments. A piano, bass, and drums had set up at the bottom of the stairway, providing a steady rhythm for the ponies who took to dancing in the cleared center of the room. Two long curving tables framed the dancefloor, each one laden down with heaps of exquisite soups, salads, pastries, favors, and drinks. Smaller, circular tables were scattered about the rest of the room, each one with some relic or more modern art serving as a centerpiece while the high society of Heighton drifted between them. Rarity’s seasoned eye was quick to pick out the way that the more esteemed ponies remained at one table, claiming it as their own while courtiers came and went by the whims of their desires.

No time to waste. She had a lot of social ground to cover, and only the barest idea of what it contained. Her first step was to find Mr. Rich and—

“Ah, Rarity! Pinkie! I was starting to think you two had changed your mind!” Mr. Rich appeared from the crowd, with a wide smile that reminded Rarity of a designer just moments before his models hit the runway. He was wearing an umber coat with silver highlights, and might have even looked quite fetching if not for his ridiculous green socks.

“Oh, we wouldn’t dream of it, dear. We’ve been looking forwards to it all day.” Rarity extended a hoof, and he took it with a brief bow before letting it fall. Good. At least that hasn’t changed.

“Wow, future not-parties have way more party than old non-parties,” Pinkie said. She pointed to the dance floor, beginning to bounce along to the beat herself. “They even dance! Woo!”

Mr. Rich stepped in front of her hoof. “You can get on the dance floor in good time, now. First we need to introduce you to all of the guests!” He gave them a gentle but firm push towards the staircase, warding off any guests that tried to say hello as he guided them through the crowd. “Miss Rarity, what’s the most impressive spell you know?”

Rarity frowned as he pushed them up the half of the stairway left open by the band, and came to an abrupt stop. “Mr. Rich! I am not just some trophy for you to show off for ‘ooh’s and ‘ah’s. I’m an artiste and a lady of class, and I demand to be treated as such!”

Mr. Rich paused mid-step. He looked to Rarity with a shadow of a grimace that quickly mutated into a broad smile. “Ah, but that’s exactly how I’m treating you!” He returned to her side, laying a hoof over her shoulder. “You’re the guest of honor tonight, at the greatest social event in Heighton! The greats throughout the city and its baronlands all come here to rub hooves, and tonight they’re waiting for you.” His voice lowered, and she let him begin to guide her up the stairs once more. “They don’t know the details just yet, but they won’t believe us when we tell them who you are. There’s never been anypony like you before!”

Rarity blushed, looking away. It certainly did sound fabulous to have the high society of all Heighton vying for her favor. Stars! Think of what I might do with that kind of pull. She could open doors for her friends that they didn’t even know were closed. She saw Pinkie open her mouth to say something, but Mr. Rich wasn’t finished yet.

“You’ll need to show them something to prove that you’re who we say you are. Magic is the quickest way. Which is why, you see, I ask for your most impressive spell.” They had reached the middle point of the stairway, where it briefly paused into a circular landing that extended out over the room like a balcony.

Rarity’s mouth twitched into a brief frown. “Rich, darling, I’m no mage. I don’t have dozens of spells like Twilight does.”

A high-pitched tinkling sound echoed across the room as an attendant standing on the balcony rang a small bell, and the crowd gradually fell into a silence. The brass section in the band drifted off, leaving only the bass, drums, and piano to play a gentle melody. Rarity let out an irritable huff as she saw that Mr. Rich had completely ignored her protests, and was already addressing his guests, one hoof planted on the balcony railing while the other waved about dramatically.

“Fillies and gentlecolts!” he began. “Friends, guests, partners, and fellows of mutual interests! Today marks a great occasion, both for myself and for ponykind as a whole. I’m sure you’re all aware as to my investments into the salvage industry, and many of you have no doubt heard of their recent excursion into Old Canterlot itself…”

He went on for some time, reminding the crowd of past accomplishments of the crew, as well as pointing out several of the relics decorating the smaller tables. Each one of these came with yet another story, which often turned into another one only slightly related. Rarity glanced to the crowd and wasn’t surprised to see a mixture of boredom and impatience reflected in their eyes. It would seem that Mr. Rich did this often. And yet they sit and wait patiently. Is out of respect, anticipation, or just a drunken stupor?

Whichever it was, Rarity wasn’t going to sit aside and watch while he hyped her up without her own permission. She marched up to the balcony and cleared her throat aggressively, intending to cut him off and demand he stop the charade that instant.

Mr. Rich turned to her with a wide grin. “Ah, Lady Rarity! I know you’re impatient, so I’ll skip the rubbish.”

A few appreciative cheers drifted up from the crowd. Rarity frowned. That’s not what I wanted. She opened her mouth to—

“I present to you all!” Mr. Rich stepped aside with a flourish. “Found in stasis deep within the dark vaults of Old Canterlot itself, a survivor from before the floods: Countess Rarity!”

Countess?

Mr. Rich gave her a bump with one of his hind legs, causing her to half-stumble, half-step up to the railing with a surprised little “Oh!”

The assembled ponies looked up at her expectantly. Varying shades of disappointment and skepticism passed over the crowd, broken only by sparse pockets of disbelieving awe.

Rarity could hardly back down now. It wouldn’t do to lose face on such a hugely humiliating scale before she’d even entered the game. She smiled, raised a hoof, and gave a wave. “A pleasure to meet you all.”

One of the mares in the crowd—sporting a ridiculously large feathered cap—rolled her eyes. “Have you finally lost it, Rich?” she called. “You can’t expect us to believe every ridiculous story you tell us just because you push some tramp onto the stage.”

Tramp.

The word cut through the tension in the air in much the same way that an arrow might cut through an uneasy peace. Rarity’s lip gave a twitch as she registered the insult, and only a half-second later her polite smile was replaced with a blazing growl as her lips curled back.

“Tramp?” she echoed. “I’ll show you a tramp, you oversized peacock!”

Her horn glowed, and the arrogant mare jumped in surprise as her hat was suddenly plucked from her head. A wave of gasps rolled over the crowd—a mixture of both awe and shock—but Rarity wasn’t done yet. She’d been holding back a certain frustration ever since arriving in this mismatched palace, where the attendants all wore clashing oversaturated colors and the host dared to ruin the only perfectly reasonable outfit she’d seen all day with those outrageously green socks. It had only built upon her irritation at the constant stain of soot and ash which permeated Heighton, the humidity that had ruined her wedding haircut after it literally survived the apocalypse, and Pinkie’s insistence on wearing nothing more than a bowtie to a formal event. The insult was the last tug which snapped the fraying fabric of her composure.

With a practiced seamstress’ eye she scanned the crowd. Mr. Rich might have had a horrific eye for color, but the assembled rich and wealthy made for a far better wardrobe. Brace yourselves, Heighton, to see what a true lady of culture looks like!

Across the room, mares and stallions let out shouts of alarm, glee, or outrage as the blue glow of Rarity’s magic yanked away hats, scarves, ties, and shawls. Each piece floated briefly in the air before becoming undone, its threads unraveling as it separated into its components.

It wasn’t enough. Shirts, suits, and entire dresses came next. Those who were well-dressed were left alone, like islands in a sea of ponies left nude or just short of it. A veritable maelstrom of fabric swirled in the air, painting the room with a pale blue tint.

Rarity narrowed her eyes, looking over her fresh material. Her patching kit floated out from within a sleeve. She would’ve preferred to do this at a proper workstation, but sometimes a lady had to make do with less.

With the needle in her magic and the pattern in her mind, Rarity set to work. She had to be quick, lest the crowd grow frustrated before she finished. Luckily for her, everypony seemed to be following some fad involving three-tone cool color combinations and feathers, which made it easy for her to take what she wanted from each outfit and fuse the pieces together with a few recycled threads. Within just a few minutes, she was done.

She allowed the leftovers to fall, casting at a simple glamour at the same time. The room seemed to dim even as a bright light in front of the balcony hid her from view. She glanced back, quietly calling Pinkie’s name.

By the time the light faded, the transformation was complete. Rarity stood proudly before the assembled crowd now wearing a thick blue and silver gown fit for a princess. Swirling patterns of silver thread raced across the fabric, coming together to draw shining renditions of her cutie mark. A high feathered collar ran up the back of her neck, cutting low in a graceful curve towards the front. The gown had a high, wavy hemline which kept clearly visible the sparkling silver socks she wore, each one capped with a ring of ruffled cyan feather. On her she had donned a sharp feathered cap, the brim decorated with a blue trim.

Rarity hadn’t ignored Pinkie, either. Her gregarious natural colors hadn’t made it easy, but Rarity had managed to put together a short-cut dress with two tones of pale blue and a complementary yellow trim.

Rarity raised her voice, striking a pose. “I! Am! Rarity!”

The crowd broke out into a cacophony of overlapping shouts. It took Rarity a few seconds, but she couldn’t help but break into a wide smile when she realized what was happening. They’re petitioning me! The display had convinced them to abandon their initial doubts, and they had fallen back onto their first instinct: to clamor for the favor of the wildcard that had just been dropped into their game.

Pinkie was bouncing excitedly at her side. “Wowie, Rarity! What a crazy-fantastical dress! I didn’t know you were a Countess!”

Rarity’s smile faltered, but for only an instant. She had nearly forgotten Mr. Rich’s unexpected use of the title. Countess Rarity. She didn’t know why he’d said that, but it certainly had a pleasant ring to it. It had always been a dream of hers to marry into nobility, but to start her own noble line? It was more than she had ever even imagined, shoved into her unexpecting hooves without so much as five minutes’ warning.

Applejack wouldn’t approve. Her other friends probably wouldn’t either. But Rarity couldn’t back down now, not with the whole room vying for her attentions and already convinced of her nobility. To pull back the curtain would be to ruin her; her social caliber was entirely dependent on the belief that she was, in fact, from pre-flood Equestria. Anything which suggested dishonesty on her identity would throw that belief onto unsteady ground, and the backlash could harm the reputation of not only herself, but also of her friends and Mr. Rich. She didn’t think that Mr. Rich would take kindly to having his image soiled, and he may even withdraw his aid. For a brief moment she imagined Twilight with wide eyes and gaping mouth, her hopes of solving the past swept away as she suddenly found herself without the tools she needed. It was too much to risk.

It was a gruesome lie, but Rarity would allow it to pass. For her friends, if nothing else. Besides, the crowd had already accepted her, were already calling for her attention. She smiled at the rush of her newfound position. She would give them what they wanted.

“Thank you, Pinkie. I worked quite hard on it.” She beckoned to Pinkie with an extended hoof. “Come here, dear, and introduce yourself!”

Pinkie bounced up to Rarity’s side, waving vigorously at the crowd below. “Hiya, everypony! I’m Pinkie Pie! Are you all ready to party?”

For a moment the crowd faltered, until Rarity wrapped her hoof around Pinkie’s shoulder in a friendly embrace. It was a social cue that they were quick to pick up on. These two are connected, it said. Befriend one, and you befriend the other.

The desired effect was quick to come as the rowdier of the crowd bellowed their agreement. Pinkie’s mane seemed ready to burst from excitement as she raced down the stairway and leapt headfirst into the thick of the crowd, backed by a sudden resurgence of the band’s brass section. The crowd was quick to clear the dance floor, leaving room for Pinkie to enjoy the music alongside the guests with enough energy or enthusiasm to join her.

Rarity’s smile widened. The subtle motion on her part had lent Pinkie some of her own status, and it would be laughably easy for the pink mare to make the friends that she so desired. Even better, Rarity could be sure to chat with her later about any gossip she might pick up, and Pinkie was certain to quickly learn the birthdays, desires, fears, and ideas of near everypony in the room by the time the night was over.

Turning around, Rarity made her own way down the stairs, albeit with a far more ladylike gait. She met eyes with Mr. Rich and the two of them exchanged quick bows. He was clearly more than satisfied with her ‘performance.’ She had only pushed him ever further up into the lofty ranks of high society.

With her own position secure, Rarity could now devote her attentions to learning more about Heighton, and finding the connections that her friends may need later on. She allowed herself to be absorbed into the crowd, her conscious mind taking a backseat while her body went through the well-practiced motions of social interaction. Hooves were shaken, bows were exchanged, and poorly made jokes were rewarded with laughter far too real to be anything but fake. All the while, Rarity’s mind was piecing together the puzzle.

The upper class of Heighton—indeed all of Equestria, as far as she could tell—was divided into three major factions. There were the politicians, elected by the masses or appointed by others, who made the laws and scrabbled amongst themselves for offices of power in the cities. Then came the land barons, a collection of nobility and landed rich who owned and worked plots within ‘baronlands.’ The baronlands were the largest of the floating islands, their mass taken up by either the widespread farmsteads which fed the populace or the labyrinthine industrial complexes that churned out airship parts, mining equipment, or other heavy machinery. Lastly were the merchant houses, extended families that travelled with skyways between island clusters with cargo-laden airships. Many of them also operated the more refined companies which assembled more advanced mechanisms, or the shallow-water mines that extracted ore from underwater mountains only a few hundred meters below the surface.

It was these three classes which competed for power, against rivals both within and without. The barons controlled the food, the bureaucrats controlled the populace, and the merchants controlled the technology. A delicate balance which kept either side from getting too far ahead of the others. The main currency of power, it would seem, were the Gifted themselves. Any one Gifted could be the trump card that a baron might need to defend his land from rivals hoping to seize it through force, or the tool that could allow a merchant lord such as Mr. Rich to search the deepest of ruins for valuable salvage.

So it was that even when Rarity eventually took a seat at one of the larger tables, claiming it for her own, she was treated to a constant stream of noble suitors, savvy politicians, and mercantile industrialists vying for her allegiance. She brushed the vast majority of them off, always politely leaving the door open for a possible agreement in the future, instead focusing on learning what she could and scoping out the scene. What good were they to her, anyways? Her goal was to help her friends, and Mr. Rich had already supplied just about everything they needed. She had no interests in helping these elites with their own petty squabbles.

There was an exception, however.

It was near the end of the ball. Pinkie Pie was busily exhausting the last, most determined dancers, and the band had settled down into a relatively relaxed tune. The orange-red light of sunset streamed in through the open door as Mr. Rich and his attendants saw off a steady trickle of guests, many drunk off the endless reserves of cider. Rarity had just finished politely declining yet another baron suitor—Funny how one’s interests change upon becoming a noble, she thought—when a more familiar stallion took a seat at her table.

“Ah, Whitehorn.” Rarity greeted him with a warm smile. “A pleasure to see you, dear.”

The unicorn offered her a curt nod in response. “Do you have a moment? I wanted to chat.”

“Certainly, darling.” Rarity levitated her glass, taking a sip of a rather fruity white wine that she had taken a liking to. To her surprise, Whitehorn didn’t even seem to notice.

Isn’t that something? Every other courtier that had sat with her so far had shown some mix of awe or surprise whenever she first levitated something. It was a little stunt she had quickly come to open up nearly every conversation with.

Then again, Whitehorn didn’t seem to fit into the usual categories. He didn’t wear the tight-cut uniforms of the barons, the lavish robes of the merchants, or the clean suits of the bureaucrats. Instead he sported a simple white button-down shirt—the sleeves rolled high—under a silver vest that matched neatly with his pale blue coat. His mane and tail were a cool gray, both cut clean and trim. Especially peculiar was his horn, which was the same solid white as the frame of his eyeglasses.

All in all, Rarity decided, he was somepony to be paid attention to.

“I was wondering just how attached you were to Crazy’s estate,” he said. He leaned forwards, putting a hoof on the table. “I know that he lends you and your friends his materials, but what would it actually take you to leave?”

Rarity blinked. She took another sip of wine to stall for time. It wasn’t the question that had surprised her so much as the way it was asked. It seemed to her that every pony that thought himself significant enough to have a chance had been asking the same thing, but none of them had been so blunt in approach. You’re certainly one to watch, aren’t you? “I’m not just some trinket to be bought at the market,” Rarity said, lowering the glass. “And especially not if it brings inconvenience to my friends.”

Whitehorn smirked, leaning back. “No, Lady Rarity, not a trinket at all. I’m afraid I don’t have the funds nor means to lure you to me, either way. I was just curious as to if you had any plans for furthering your horizons.”

Rarity cocked a brow. “Whatever are you getting at, darling?”

“You seemed a little reluctant to let Crazy show you off, earlier. I suppose you’ve noticed how Crazy doesn’t exactly see ponies as ponies,” Whitehorn said. He snorted, waving a hoof around the room. “Look at all this. He doesn’t even use this tower except for his parties. A full band, full catering, all—tell me, Lady Rarity, do you know why he bought this island?”

Rarity pursed her lips. “I’m afraid I don’t. Care to enlighten me, dear?”

“He did it because the Rich Family manor had no garden.” Whitehorn chuckled lightly, looking up. “It’s in the city, you see, no room for a garden without demolishing some of the manor itself, and that was unacceptable to him. So one day he decides he wants a garden, and he buys this island. Digs out his whole complex underground just how he likes it, then builds this extravagant tower and starts throwing these balls every month, just so he can plant a garden and show it off.”

“They are magnificent gardens, though,” Rarity said. A good and neutral response. “The entire island is magnificent.” Except for the clothes. She suppressed a shiver of disgust at the thought.

Whitehorn shook his head slowly. “That’s just it. He picks up a new fad every few months and spends a fortune to show off to anyone that’ll come to his parties. You know what I’m getting at, Lady Rarity.” He pointed a hoof at her. “You’re just another trophy to him, for him to show off at his parties until he picks up something shinier in a couple months.”

Rarity frowned. He was echoing her own reservations perfectly. She had realized that Mr. Rich was using her as a trophy, of course, but she’d been willing to accept it, however grudgingly. Just as he boosted his own position with her, she would feed off of his. It was a compromise that she was coming to accept. “Go on.”

Whitehorn smirked. “I have your attention, then? After all those richlings failed?”

“Maybe you should be more worried about keeping it,” Rarity quipped.

He nodded, looking to where Mr. Rich stood by the doorway, speaking to departing guests. “It’s ridiculous. Preposterous, even. He stands there in his suit and socks, buying whole islands just to plant a fancy garden, digging up… well, you just to show it off. Even after all that he would still have the money to fill this whole island with bits, lock the doors, and never come back. He probably doesn’t even bathe himself.” He chuckled quietly.

Rarity forced herself to giggle politely. “Whether he bathes himself or not, I for one am grateful for the magnificent bath chambers in his guest suites. The city itself is far too grimy for my tastes.”

Whitehorn arched a brow. “Is that so, Lady Rarity? I’ve long wondered what it was like to walk down the streets of Old Canterlot during its prime. Would you care to humor me?”

“Of course, darling.” She looked down to her glass, sighing wistfully. “I wasn’t from Canterlot myself, actually. I was—” She paused, catching the potential faux pas just in time, and instead feigned a few petite, ladylike coughs to cover herself. Of course if she was to be Countess Rarity then she couldn’t just be a seamstress from Ponyville. “Excuse me. My family actually held the de jure title to a rural county just south of Canterlot proper, well known for its master seamstresses. I did make a number of trips to and from the capital for business and pleasure, however, and kept an apartment in the city proper.”

She couldn’t help but smile as she recalled her visits to the royal city. “If ever there was a place that could truly be called divine, it was Canterlot. The Canterlot marble was whiter than any other in Equestria, making the city shine like a second sun whenever the Princess summoned the dawn. You could find anything a pony might ever want there. The spas, the clothes, the street performers, the food, the architecture! And the palace itself, oh! And to think that it was even grander before Nightmare Moon’s banishment!”

“Nightmare Moon?” Whitehorn repeated.

“Oh, that’s nothing, dear.” Rarity giggled again as she waved a hoof. I suppose Princess Luna was remembered more for her good deeds, after all. “Just an old mare’s tale.”

He shrugged. For a couple of minutes they kept a polite silence. Rarity cut off a piece of her bruschetta and levitated it into her mouth.

“What were the Princesses like?”

“Hrm?” Rarity cocked her head ever so slightly, swallowing the food.

“They were alive in your time. Did you ever have the chance to attend Court?” Whitehorn was gazing into his drink, eyeing the golden liquid with a sort of somber ponderance.

I knew them far better than any courtier. But alas, she had to maintain her new identity. “I did, yes. On occasion. They were the very definition of untouchable nobility, and yet nothing like any noble. Celestia was like… she was like a mother to every pony in Equestria, always watching over us and ensuring that everyone was given their fair lot in life. Luna as well. She wasn’t quite as approachable, but she perhaps cared with even more ferocity than her sister.”

Whitehorn nodded, looking up to Rarity. “How do you think they would feel about what their Equestria has become?”

Rarity frowned, humming thoughtfully. What would they think? She may have discovered some familiarity with how high society functioned in the new Equestria, but the Princesses had never cared much for the squabbles of the rich as long as the everyday pony was happy. Rarity truthfully didn’t know that much about modern life in Equestria beyond the constant stain of soot or the smoke that drifted through the streets in strangling hazes. Now that she thought about it, she did suppose that most of the ponies she’d seen had a certain weariness about them.

“I honestly couldn’t say much on that matter, Mr. Whitehorn. I feel like Equestria was a happier place in my time. It was most definitely cleaner, if nothing else.” She gave a half-hearted shrug, slowly stirring her wine with a levitated spoon. “Either way, I’m sure that my friend Twilight will find some way to reverse whatever damage has been done.”

Whitehorn cocked his head. “Twilight? That’s the other unicorn, right? The purple one that left this morning with Crazy’s salvagers?”

Rarity dipped her head, grinning proudly. “Just the one! If there’s anypony who can solve this mystery, it’s her. She’d work her whole life to do it if she had to.”

The stallion snorted. “I don’t know, Lady Rarity. It may take more than a single lifetime to change things back. It may not even be possible.”

“Oh, well of course it is!” Rarity placed a hoof against her chest. “She is an unparalleled master of magic! I have no doubts that she can discover what happened and reverse the process.”

“I’m not talking about magic, my Lady.” Whitehorn gestured to the room around them. “I’m talking about the ponies themselves. You say that once we had kind alicorn Princesses watching over us, ensuring that all was fair and good? They have been gone for centuries, maybe even millennia. Nopony knows for sure. What I do know is that society itself has changed, and that is not a reversal that can be made with a mere flick of the horn even by the strongest Gifted.”

“Changed how, darling?” Rarity asked, brow creasing.

Whitehorn downed the rest of his drink in one gulp, sliding the empty glass away from him. “Take a walk around the city sometime, Countess. Keep your eyes open. You may find that the soul of ponykind has been tarnished far more than the land beneath their hooves.” He reached into his vest pocket, removing a small card and pushing it across the table. “Here. I’m afraid I must take my leave, but you’re certainly a mare worth knowing. Do feel free to stop by if you wish to talk more.”

With that, he turned and made for the door. Rarity watched him with furrowed brow as he weaved between the smaller tables, gave Mr. Rich a curt nod and quick smile, and then stepped out into the dawn air.

She looked down at the card on the table. The words, “Whitehorn, Freelance Author,” stared back up at her, right above an address for what looked like some apartment in Heighton.

“Hrm.” Rarity looked back up towards the door, head cocked. Mr. Rich glanced in her direction and caught her eye. He offered her a beaming grin, and she smiled politely in return. Her mind was elsewhere, however.

She would have to take a walk later.

“Twilight? Twilight!”

“Twilight! Y’all okay?”

“Give me a sitrep! What’s going on in there?”

“I’m okay! I’m okay!” Twilight yelled. She looked down to her hooves, a shriek pushing past her lips as her flashlight followed her gaze.

Sweet Celestia, I’m not okay!

She had landed on the mutilated head of a stallion, her armored weight having easily crushed his skull and splattered its contents on her hoof. She followed the trail of blood attached to the head with her light, letting out another shrill cry as it illuminated what must have once been the stallion’s body, crumpled in a pool of fresh blood. Deep gashes criss-crossed his body, and chunks of meat had been torn from his flanks.

“Twilight! Talk to me, damnit! Trails, suit up and go get her! Flint, arm the torpedoes!”

No! Even as her baser instincts flooded her mind with terror, her rational thoughts cried out in protest. If the seal is broken then the whole library will be lost!

Twilight backpedaled wildly. She tripped over another gruesome corpse, curling up in the puddle of blood around it and breaking out into heavy sobs. She was vaguely aware of her friends calling her name, and Sea Sabre barking orders. Pull yourself together, foal! These bodies have been here for centuries, preserved by your own spell! Whatever did this must be long gone by now, so snap out of it!

“Wait…” she said, quietly at first, then stronger. “Wait! Don’t break the seal, I’m alright!”

The radio chatter cut out. Sabre’s voice was clear in her helmet. “What the hay is going on in there?”

“It’s just—there are bodies. They scared me.” Twilight quited her sobs, picking herself up out of the blood. “I was just scared. I’m safe.” After a moment, she added, “Sorry.”

Sabre sighed. “It’s alright. Belay that torpedo, Flint. Trails, stay at the ready.” Flint’s thick laughter sounded faintly in the background.

“Consarn it Twi, y’all half-near scared the apples outta me!” Applejack said.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Rainbow asked.

Twilight nodded, finding some small solace in the voices of her friends. “I’m fine. Just a little shaken.”

“Hey, what’s it look like in there?” Trails asked.

“Hang on. It’s dark.” Twilight cast a simple cantrip, spawning an orb of purple light before her. The orb traveled towards the ceiling in a lazy arc before coming to a sudden stop. The purple glow cast an eerie illumination over the library, lengthening the shadows into a perpetual twilight.

A quiet whimper escaped her. Sweet Celestia… what’s happened here?

At least a dozen mangled corpses were scattered across the main floor, their accumulated blood like little red streams all running into a single gruesome lake at the center of the room, lapping at the base of the room’s horsehead centerpiece. Bone-deep gashes and torn flesh marred each body in grotesque groups, their faces twisted in eternal reflections of final agonies.

Twilight gagged, fighting the urge to retch into her helmet. She gave a silent prayer of thanks for the fact that her pressurized armor and oxygen tanks saved her from having to smell the stench that must have hung in the room. However long ago this massacre had been, her preservation spell had kept the corpses fresh. It had even stopped the blood from drying.

“There’s bodies everywhere,” she said. She took a few tentative steps deeper into the tree. “Looks like some kind of clawed animal attack.”

“Bodies, huh?” she heard Trails ask. “Any horns?”

The question spawned a wave of revulsion in Twilight. They’re more than just horns for sale. “There are.”

Now that she looked, Twilight realized that all but a few of the corpses belonged to unicorns. It seemed that the only exceptions were a pair of pegasi and a lone earth pony. Scrolls full of scribbled notes littered the tables and floor, competing for space with vials full of colored liquids.

Twilight gasped, her fear shoved aside by a surge of curiosity.

She reached out with her magic, pulling the parchments and scrolls to float around her in a series of spinning rows. With a practiced eye she scanned the pages, searching for the most significant information and discarding anything too bloodied or tattered to be read. Her heart skipped a beat as she picked out a name, and pulled the scroll out of the rotation.

“Dear Diary,” it said. “I’m sorry I haven’t written for a couple weeks, but time has been a rare commodity. I’ll start with the bad news: the holdforts surrounding Canterlot have been lost. My team was forced to pack up our lab as the Guard fended off the beasts outside, and the fighting retreat we took to Ponyville was the most exhausting week of my life.

“It is not all bad, however! We were merged into two other teams, and given royal writ to continue our research in the home of the late Element of Magic itself! An aura of study permeates this place, and the owl assistant has been a great boon in fetching and reshelving books. I feel for the creature, but he seems eager to help us solve this mystery. Even Princess Celestia herself came to speak to us!

“The vicinity of the Everfree should grant us plentiful subjects. I shall be on one of the first expeditions to retrieve samples.

“Here we have all of the tools we need. With the Princess’s blessing and the Element of Magic watching over us, we shall not fail!”

“They were a research party,” Twilight said. Her throat tightened as she returned the page to its place in the rotation. “They came here to try and solve some mystery, but it looks like they never finished.” Because I wasn’t here to help.

Applejack’s voice was quick to respond. “Now I know what y’all’re thinking, Twi. I’m telling ya, it wasn’t y’all’s fault.”

“I should’ve been there, Applejack. We all should’ve been there. When Equestria needed us most we were nowhere to be found.” Twilight began to pace, papers still spinning around her.

“Hey!” As usual, Rainbow’s voice sounded far too close for comfort. “This thing isn’t over yet, Twilight! The fight isn’t over until we’re all gone, and we’re all still here!”

“You know you don’t have to eat the mic, right?” Trails voice asked in the background.

Sabre spoke next. “Focus on the present. We can always discuss findings or come back later, but your suit’s oxygen won’t last forever.”

Twilight nodded. “Alright.” The faint sound of Rainbow bickering with Trails leaked into her helmet.

Her thoughts drifted to Owloysius. “A great boon.” Looking around now, her throat began to burn as she realized that the bookshelves were all perfectly organized. Every book was exactly in the place she had left it, except the ones she’d left out. They had been returned to their proper places. Had the owl even understood that she was gone? Perhaps he somehow had known that she was still alive, and had kept the shelves tidy in some vain hope of her return? She shook her head, pulling another sheet of parchment to her teary eyes as she continued to pace.

“Week Three Progress Report.” The writing on this paper was long and elegant, each letter flowing into the next. “Reports from the frontline indicate an acceleration in the spread of the corruption. Spikes in attacks across Equestria as well as in-house studies of creatures from infected land show that living things exposed to it grow hostile and feral. Validated rumors seem to confirm that even ponies seem to become solitary and selfish after prolonged exposure.

“Progress has continued to stall since last week. We are planning another Everfree expedition, as the uniquely violent creatures there may hold the key to our dilemma. Princess Luna has agreed to personally accompany it alongside an escort of Nighthooves.

“Food is becoming scarce. We pray to Celestia that the solution becomes clear soon.”

Luna had been here, too? The Everfree would have to be the next stop, unless something else came to light first. Had Equestria been defeated through military might? Perhaps the changelings had pushed outwards from Canterlot, but what was this ‘corruption’ the report spoke of?

“Oof!” The steadily spinning cylinder of paper abruptly collapsed as Twilight bumped into something, her concentration shattering. A loud metallic rattle filled the tree as the papers began to fall gently to the floor.

Her hooves had carried her unbidden up to the second level of the library, where her personal rooms had been. The orblight’s purple glow didn’t shine as brightly up here, but her suit’s flashlight was more than enough for her to see the battered and tarnished birdcage she had knocked over.

Twilight’s vision began to water once more as she knelt down to inspect the cage. Dents and scratches marred the inside, all tinged the red of blood. The latch had been forcibly broken.

There was a small note attached, stuck to the lock with glue. “DO NOT TOUCH,” it said, with a smaller scribble underneath adding, “seriously!”

“What?” Twilight muttered. “That’s crazy.”

“What is it?” Sabre asked.

Twilight shook her head. “Nothing.” Whatever hardships Owloysius might have gone through without her, she hoped he had found some measure of peace before the end.

Turning away, Twilight’s light shone over her old bed. She grimaced at the sight of a mare’s body curled up beneath her blankets. This mare looked strangely peaceful compared to the others, her eyes and mouth closed and her body clean of wounds. If not for the stillness of her chest, Twilight may even have thought her to be simply asleep.

Stepping closer, Twilight saw a small journal open next to the mare. She grabbed it in her magic, levitating it closer to read.

“Lily Quick’s Journal, Entry 242.

“As I write this, I know that my life is over. Perhaps all of Equestria is over. Either way, if Equestria is ever to find salvation, it won’t be by our hooves.

“It’s been raining for over a week now, harder than I’ve ever seen before and without any pause or hesitation. It only took a couple days for the waves to being washing away homes with the ponies trapped inside. There’s some enchantment over this place which seems to shield us, but Noonstar says that any breach in the tree will break its protection. The final begging shrieks of those being swept to their deaths haunt my dreams.

“We don’t have enough food for more than a couple days, and the flood has risen so high that no light can reach us. There’s nothing but blackness outside. It’s as if we’re the last ponies alive. Perhaps we are. Our world has ended.

“Still, I hold some small hope that even if we have failed, others might still succeed. The team has fallen to bickering and brawling over what little we have left. I think the corruption must be picking away at our nature, and so I have compiled as much of our research as I could fit into a copy of Predictions and Prophecies, and have stowed the book away in the bookshelves. If you’re reading this, then maybe we still have a chance after all.

“Find my notes. Continue our work. May Celestia have mercy on us all.”

Twilight lowered the letter. She felt terribly hollow inside. This mare, Lily Quick, had taken on the same mission which Twilight pursued now. She and her friends had set out with the enthusiasm and optimism of those who never truly believed that failure was ever a possibility. But she had failed, and all of Equestria had drowned around her.

Curious, Twilight flipped over to the next page. Blood dripped freely from this page, which was unlabeled and held only three lines written in scratchy, panicked writing.

“THE SCREAMING”

“SOMETHING IS KILLING THEM”

“I CAN’T LET IT GET TO ME”

A cold chill ran down Twilight’s spine. She glanced behind her, ears flicking within her helmet. Had she heard something just then? It would’ve been a trivial matter to sneak up on her, with the narrow eyeholes blocking her peripherals and the thick armored shell dulling even the sound of her own metallic hoofsteps. Probably just my imagination. She tugged at Lily Quick’s leg, curious to get a better look at the mare.

Twilight gasped as the body rolled over, revealing the red stain on her neck. A bloodied scalpel lay on the bed beneath her. Whatever Lily had heard happening downstairs, she’d decided to slit her own throat before it could get to her.

Sabre’s voice crackled into her helmet. “How’re you doing, Twilight?”

“I think the bodies are starting to get to me,” Twilight said. She started back down the stairs. “I’m going to grab the books I need and come back.”

Twilight pursed her lips as she climbed downstairs. The bodies in the main room had been mutilated as if by some hungry predator, but they didn’t look as if they’d been eaten completely. Twilight had assumed that whatever beast had killed them had moved on. Lily Quick’s untouched body suggested that there was something more to it, however. Why wouldn’t the beast have done anything to her body? Had it even killed the rest of the research team out of hunger?

Was it still there?

She couldn’t know for sure, and paranoia was beginning to gnaw at the edges of her mind. She brightened her orb light with a burst of magic, checking any corners that remained dark with her flashlight.

Reaching the ground floor, Twilight broke into a trot. “Trails, have you scanned the tree?”

Trails’ low chuckle was quick to respond. “I would, but there’s half a dozen barriers in the way.”

“Oh, right.” After a moment’s thought, Twilight dispelled the antimage fields she’d stacked on the old tree so long ago. They had weakened too much to be useful anyways, after so many years.

“Alrighty then, door’s open! Scanning now, but don’t expect anything quick. Somepony broke my terminal.”

Twilight couldn’t help but smile at the mare’s jest, even if for a few brief moments. She sent out a quick sonar pulse as she crossed the library. It didn’t tell her anything she hadn’t already known. It did nothing to calm her nerves.

It didn’t take long for her to find Predictions and Prophecies. Twilight had spent years carefully optimizing systems for sorting, organizing, and finding books, and the Golden Oak Library had used her most developed system. The book glowed a soft purple as she grabbed it in her magic.

She froze, ears perking up. She allowed her magical grasp to fizzle as she looked behind her. She was certain she had heard something that time. It had been so faint, only just barely registering at the very edge of her armor-dulled hearing. She waited there for a few seconds, shining her light into the dark corners of the room.

Nothing.

Whatever it was, it didn’t change what she was here to do. She turned back to the shelf, quickly plucking the book from its place with her magic.

She heard the noise again. Clearly this time.

Right behind her.

“Hoo.”

Author's Note

There's something lurking. It's very close.

Also, big thanks to dA artist fantazyme and reader jeffh4 for making this fantastic rendition of Rarity at Mr. Rich's party!

Join the EH Discord!

VII: The Hunt

A piercing agony burst into Twilight’s head. She cried out, the book clattering to the floor as her magic was pushed aside by the pain.

Hoo.

The pain intensified, and Twilight dove to the floor in a vain attempt to escape. From one of her eyeholes she was just able to see Owloysius flying—no, standing—a meter above the ground as if on some invisible perch. His eyes flashed black and purple as the dropped book floated off the ground, no sign of a telltale magic aura.

Hoo.

“Augh!” Twilight could barely think. She was vaguely aware of the crackle of static in her helmet, but couldn’t hear anything apart from the shrill piercing echo of the owl’s screeching. He slowly lowered to the ground, looking straight through the glass and into her helmet. She squeezed her eyes shut.

Hoo!

She couldn’t focus. She couldn’t even feel her magic. The corners of her vision began to redden. It was all going to—

The pain stopped.

Twilight blinked the tears away, remaining still on the floor. She couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in her ears, or see past the redness that clogged her sight. Is it over? Am I dead?

Slowly the ringing began to fade, and Twilight became aware of Trails’ voice, shouting as if from a distance.

“Get the buck up, Twilight!” she said. “I’m sure as hay not carrying your chubby flank back to the damn sub!”

The redness began to clear. She could hear herself breathing again, and she could feel the pump of her racing heart. Twilight shook her head, rolling onto her back with a groan. The ringing had been replaced with a heavy roaring, and Twilight almost felt as if she was floating. She flinched as a thick drop of water splattered across one of her eyeholes.

Twilight gasped. “No, no, no!” Her hooves splashed about in the bloody water swirling over the floor as she scrambled off the ground. The drops were falling like rain now, bursting forth from quickly spreading cracks in the walls and the ceiling. There was water everywhere, pouring into the tree through shattered windows and a single large, smoky crack where the door had been. “The seal’s been broken!”

“Yeah, welcome to five minutes ago!” Trails’ voice said. Twilight turned to see the other mare standing next to her, armored hooves spread wide as she scanned the tree. For the first time, Twilight noticed the small veins of hornbane tracing the horn on Trails’ helmet.

“What did you do?” Twilight shouted to be heard over the roar of the water. “The water will ruin everything!”

Trails seemed to flinch away at the question as if struck. “Ah, for bucks sake! Stop yelling over the radio!”

Sea Sabre’s voice chimed in to the exchange. “That wyrd would have killed you, Twilight. We had to clear an entryway.”

“Wyrd?” Twilight cast her gaze around the tree, searching vainly for any sign of Owloysius. Her hoof bumped against something floating in the water, and she looked down to see a book drifting past. Her eyes widened as she saw three more, and as she turned in place she saw dozens, all shaken from their shelves or pulled free by the water flooding in. She gasped, levitating Predictions and Prophecies out of the wetness, but it was too late. It had been soaked through, the binding tearing from being violently tossed about by the waves. Tears clogged her vision as she opened it. Lily Quick’s notes—so carefully hidden in the mare’s final attempt at redemption—were little more than wet tatters. “No!” She crumpled to the ground, sobbing openly. The water had risen high enough to completely submerge her head.

“Uh, Twilight?” Trails said. “Y’know the wyrd is still alive, right?”

“The notes are gone!” Twilight snapped back, pulling her head out of the water. “Everything they worked for is lost! We’ll have to start from scratch!”

“Calm down, sugar cube.” Applejack’s concern was clearly audible over the radio. “We don’t know what y’all found, but ya gotta get outta there soon. It ain’t over yet, but I reckon we’ll be up the creek without a paddle if somethin’ happens to y’all. Did ya find those books ya needed for Fluttershy?”

Fluttershy. A surge of self-revulsion passed over Twilight. She’d gotten so wrapped up in the notes, in the mystery of Equestria and the floods, that she’d nearly forgotten the entire reason she had first came here. She needed to find the right books if she was going to cure Fluttershy of whatever magical ailment had befell her.

Twilight sniffled, standing back up shakily. Even standing, the water was nearly enough to submerge her. Every book in her old library would be waterlogged and ruined within minutes. She didn’t have any time to waste on tears.

“Thank you, Applejack. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Trails glanced her way. “Hey, how about out right now? Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Twilight ignored her, closing her eyes and focusing her mind. The books. The rushing water, ruined books bumping against her legs, and the distant sound of Flint and Rainbow arguing over the radio all fell away.

With a flash of inspiration, she pieced together the clues she had found already. At first Owloysius had been an eager and helpful assistant to the research team, finding what they needed where they lacked the knowledge to find it themselves. Whatever ‘corruption’ had spread across Equestria, it must have darkened his heart as well. It was hard to say how much of the true Owloysius remained, but he must have held on to her last order to him above all else, even as he was warped into a dangerous beast. “Keep the library neat, Owloysius. I expect everything to be in its place when I return.”

Twilight’s lips twisted into a somber smile. He may have killed the research party—perhaps even doomed Equestria in doing so—but every book left on the shelves was in precisely its proper place.

It was quick work for her to open her eyes and scan the shelves with her practiced librarian’s eye. Maremmano’s Matrix of Magical Maladies and Malignancies, Perplexing Pony Plagues, and Magical Mysteries and Practical Potions were all placed high enough on the shelves that the water hadn’t reached them yet.

Twilight let out a sigh of relief as she reached out with her magic and pulled the books off the shelves. She cast a powerful shield about them, containing the books in a glowing purple shell that would be able to withstand the high pressure of the ocean floor.

“Hoo!”

Twilight was ready this time. She erected a thick magic barrier around her, grunting as it cracked under the powerful impact and threw her off her hooves. Sweat dripped down her forehead as she cast a gyro featherfall mid-air, the spell correcting her spin. She landed hoof-first, skidding a short distance before coming to a stop.

Twilight shook her head, reinforcing her barrier. Maintaining the three spells all at once was enough to drain even her magical reserves swiftly. She’d have to be cautious.

Trails’ pained cry cut through her helmet. The mare was kneeling near the center of the room as if beneath a great weight, Owloysius floating eerily still in front of her. Although Twilight couldn’t see the magic with her naked eye, she was still able to sense the grotesque claw-shaped arcane energy that stemmed from the owl.

“Leave her alone!” Twilight sent a wave of antimage energy towards the duo, fizzling the owl’s arcane grasp. His head snapped to her, eyes wide and framed in bloody tears.

Hoo.

Twilight flinched back at the sudden burst of noise that erupted in her mind. Shrieks of agony and terror and the crunch of bones as flesh was rent from the body. Her shield nearly broke at the sudden loss of concentration, and she barely recovered in time.

The owl spread his wings, and a duo of invisible arcane claws swept forwards to crush her barrier. They didn’t knock her away this time, instead holding her in place and stabbing inwards from every direction. She felt herself being raised up above the churning waters and began to scream as the foreign presence in her head grew louder, overcoming every thought with the echoes of terror and gruesome death.

She shut her eyes tight, struggling to maintain her barrier and her hold on the three books. The shrieks grew louder still, louder than she thought even possible. She could still see his eyes, unnaturally wide and weeping blood. They consumed her every thought.

It stopped.

Twilight’s shield fizzled as she felt herself dropped into the water, the waves buffeting her body around the treehouse. With her last vestiges of strength she held on to the books, protecting them from the ocean’s wrath.

“Twilight, get up,” Trails’ voice said. “Thanks for the distraction, but I’m still not carrying you.”

Blearily, Twilight opened her eyes. She had sunk to the bottom of the treehouse, her three books floating besides her in their bubble of protection. Her helmet light illuminated Trails standing above her and casted the bodies floating on the surface into eerie silhouette.

“Owl… oysius?” Twilight grit her teeth as she climbed to her hooves.

“I took care of the wyrd,” Trails said. She glanced behind her. “That doesn’t mean we can make the trip back at a leisurely stroll, by the way. It will’ve summoned more.”

“What?” Looking around, Twilight saw Owloysius lying still on the floor, the water currents pulling at his feathers. She staggered over to him, feeling the tears come on once more. His eyes had relaxed, no longer stretched into the wide, pained stare. A ragged, bloody hole pierced his breast, leaking swirling red mist into the water.

She heard Trails sigh over the radio. “Alright, Sabre, I guess I’m carrying her after all.”

“Roger that. Ready to surface when you get here.”

“No,” Twilight sobbed. She weakly tried to wipe away the bloody tears on the owl’s face, but they had been stained into his feathers long ago. “Why is this happening?”

“Hard to say,” Trails quipped. The mare pulled Twilight off of the owl, ignoring her weak resistance. “C’mon, we need to go.”

“But—”

“No buts, alright?” Trails stomped a hoof on the floor, though the effect was dampened by the water. “I don’t know what that thing is to you, but if we’re not out of here in a few minutes then we’re going to be in a very tight spot, and that whole thing with a dragon popping up out of nowhere and bailing us out has only happened once so far. So do you want those books or not?”

She was right, of course. Twilight was just putting the group in more danger. There was nothing she could do for Owloysius. He’d been lost hundreds of years ago. Like almost everyone else.

And what of the research party? Mares and stallions that had made the salvation of Equestria their personal mission and lost their lives in the process. What was their reward? To be left forgotten and unnoticed at the bottom of the ocean, until salvagers came by to strip them of whatever value they had?

Twilight wished that she could wipe the tears out of her eyes, but the helmet made it impossible to do by hoof and she didn’t want to risk anymore magic. She reluctantly pulled herself away from the owl’s limp body, and the current began to push him away. Trails led the way out of the library.

Twilight looked back to her old home one last time. The bodies—now filled with water—had begun to drift back down to the floor.

I’m so sorry.

“Pinkie Pie?” Rarity poked her head into Pinkie’s suite. Nothing here. She crossed the common room and peered into Fluttershy’s chambers. “Hello?” The yellow mare was sleeping soundly on her bed as usual, but Pinkie was nowhere to be seen.

“Where did that mare go off to?” Rarity pouted thoughtfully as she stepped out into the hall. She’d been hoping to invite Pinkie to join her for a walk around Heighton.

With a very unladylike shrug, she headed towards the stairs to the surface. She was far more modestly dressed today, wearing a long-sleeved, ruffled purple blouse and a cyan wool scarf, along with her saddlebags and sunhat, of course. She would hate to burn.

On a whim she asked an aid for directions to the pantry, stuffing her saddlebags with granola bars and trail mix. Mr. Rich had given her and her friends each a hefty sum of bits, and he’d assured them that even simply dropping his name and a promise of future compensation was enough for nearly every restaurant or store in the city, but Rarity didn’t want to waste any time dining out. As marvelous as they may be, the restaurateurs would have to wait today.

As she neared the stairs, Rarity heard the distinctive high-pitched giggling of Pinkie Pie echoing through the halls. There she is! She followed the sound, pausing at intersections to listen with ears twitching to pick out the correct direction. It must have taken her nearly half an hour to finally arrive at a wide mezzanine, railed in with engraved wood. A hefty chandelier hung over the center of the room, decorated with a few multicoloured streamers hanging limply from its arms. Rarity stepped up to the railing, her lips curling into a warm smile as she looked over the edge.

The room below was dominated by a squat, wide square platform divided into tiles of brass and platinum, eight to each edge. Scattered haphazardly across the platform was a life-sized set of magnificently detailed marble chess pieces, each piece highlighted with either ruby or sapphire accents. The two princess pieces in particular were priceless works of art in their own rights, each one wearing royal barding of pure gold or silver, and their manes dotted with sparkling diamonds.

Pinkie Pie herself was sprawled over the half-eaten and mostly-crushed remains of a tastelessly pink cake near the far end of the board. A sapphire pawn seemed to have made it across to the opposing side of the board, his stony attention marred by bucketloads of colorful confetti. Several other pieces were gathered about in a rough curve, their faces covered by cartoony crayon scrawlings of smiles and cheering mouths. Crazy Rich was straddling one of the knights, raising a glass of cider high into the air like a lance as he cheered. Hanging over the board, tied to the mezzanine railing, was a banner reading. “Happy board-crossing, Pawny!”

With a quiet giggle of her own, Rarity turned away. It was possible that Mr. Rich was only pretending, but she didn’t think he really had much to gain from doing so. Perhaps the eccentric stallion truly had taken a liking to the party pony. Either way, it was good to see Pinkie returning more to her old self. Rarity would give her some space today.

It was nearly noon by the time Rarity came out into the gardens. She couldn’t help but stop to appreciate them for a few minutes, but didn’t linger long. She already knew about the rich. She wanted to learn about everypony else.

Mr. Rich kept a small fleet of air taxis tied off on his personal docks, so it was no trouble at all for Rarity to find an idle taxi and step aboard.

The pilot gave a courteous bow at her arrival. “My lady Rarity?”

A very unladylike grin crossed Rarity’s face at the title, and she dipped her head in return. “Might I ask your name, pilot?”

“Open Sails, my lady.”

“Well, then, Mr. Sails.” Rarity levitated out a dozen bits, holding them out on a hoof. “Would you mind granting me passage to the mainland?”

Sails’ eyes darted up at the jingle of the coins, then back down. “The bits are unnecessary, my lady. As a Countess and Mr. Rich’s guest, it would be my pleasure to do so.”

“Pfft, nonsense!” Rarity scoffed, grabbing the earth pony’s hoof in her own and forcing the bits into it. “Please, take them. Ah ah ah!” She raised a hoof, cutting off his protests. “I won’t take no for an answer! Now then, shall we?”

Reluctantly, Sails straightened up and slipped the bits into a pair of saddlebags sitting next to the wheel. “Very well, my lady. Please, make yourself comfortable.”

Rarity nodded, walking towards the front of the boat and settling down before the prow. Open Sails hummed tunelessly as he cast off the ropes holding the boat, slipped out of the docks, and guided it breezily westwards.

The journey was pleasant, and now that Rarity had had the time and tools to make herself look and feel proper, she was far more capable of enjoying it compared to previously. The breeze toyed with Rarity’s mane just enough for her to pretend she was aboard a cruise line in a romance novel, but not so much that it would muss up her appearance. Open Sails did a fine job of weaving around the columns of smoke as well, giving them a much wider berth than Sunfeather had done during the initial ride to Rich’s island.

It didn’t take long for the mainland to begin looming before her, and Rarity looked curiously to the five smaller islands which floated besides it, bound loosely together with thick steel bridges and cords of chain.

She glanced over to the pilot, who was standing with one lazy hoof on the wheel. “Mr. Sails? Could I ask you a question, darling?”

Sails started, straightening up before bowing his head as deeply as he could while still holding onto the wheel. “Yes, Countess?”

Rarity pointed a hoof. “Tell me about those five islands, there.”

The pilot nodded. “Those are The Fifths, my lady. It’s where many of the factories have their laborers to live.”

Rarity cocked her head. “Have?”

“Yes, my lady. Many factories pay their workers more in services than bits. In exchange for labor, the workers are granted a home, meal stamps for the company scullery, and a small stipend for anything else they might need.”

Rarity hummed appreciatively. “Oh, isn't that nice?” Beyond the horrid filth, Heighton has been pleasant enough so far.

At last, the boat floated up to a lonely trio of empty piers. Open Sails grabbed a rope in his teeth, tossing it across the gap for the one dock worker there. After a few quick tugs they tied the boat off. Sails stepped off first, extending a hoof to help Rarity down.

She took it graciously, pleased with the display of chivalry. “Would you be able to wait for me here, Mr. Sails?”

He bowed deeper. “Certainly, my lady. When shall I expect you back?”

She glanced up to the sun, gauging the time. “I can’t say for sure, dear, but I do intend to sleep at Rich’s estate tonight.”

“Very well, Lady Rarity. I shall await your return.”

Rarity smiled, trotting up the pier. It was attached to a narrow cobbled walkway just barely wide enough for three ponies to walk besides each other, shadowed by a pair of wooden buildings. Coming out on the other side of the alley, she raised a hoof to wave down a passing taxi. “Excuse me! Taxi!”

This taxi wasn’t quite as elaborate as the one she had ridden in just a few days ago. It had only two wheels and was open to the air, with only a flimsy wooden lattice to distinguish it from a plain cart and protect any passengers from the elements. If it wasn’t for the word “Taxi” painted black on the yellow sides, she may not have even thought it a taxi at all. Either way, Rarity was here to learn how the common ponies lived, and so when the tired pegasus mare secured to the yoke glanced behind herself uncertainly, Rarity waved towards her reassuringly.

“Yes, you!” she said. “Over here, please!”

The mare came to a stop before her, seeming confused. “Y’meant me, my lady?”

My lady? As much as Rarity was enjoying her assumed nobility so far, the ball had been just yesterday. Surely word of her appearance and new station hadn’t become common knowledge already? Did the commoners here even care about that sort of thing? She knew that the average Equestrian during her time could scarcely name anyone beyond the highest princes in Canterlot, if that, and would be unlikely to recognize a freshly minted countess a day after her introduction.

Then she realized that it wasn’t her identity that had prompted the title, but her appearance. The taxi mare was wearing nothing beyond a raggedy wool scarf, brown cloak, and a pair of goggles, all of which had been stained black with smoke and soot. Rarity could barely even pick out her green coloration beneath the clothes and the blackness stained into her coat. By contrast, Rarity was well-dressed and clean, and she stood and spoke with the stature of a lady of class. The taxi mare didn’t need to know who she was specifically to figure out that the title was appropriate.

“Of course I meant you,” Rarity said, smiling. “Why wouldn’t I?”

The mare cocked her head. “Well, it’s just… y’don’t look much like my usual customers.”

Rarity waved a hoof dismissively. “Oh, please, darling. How much would it cost to take me to The Fifths?”

Even through the smears on the mare’s goggles, Rarity could see her eyes skew skeptically. “I think I must of misheard you. You say The Fifths, my lady?”

Rarity nodded. “Indeed I did.”

“Well, uh…” The mare glanced down the street. Rarity followed her gaze and saw the base of one of the sturdy bridges connecting the mainland to the surrounding five islands, just a couple blocks away. “Two bits?”

Rarity hummed thoughtfully. “Well, what if we took the scenic route? Around the mainland first?” She levitated out a jingling bag. “Would fifty bits be adequate?”

The mare’s jaw dropped open for a few seconds before she recovered, straightening her slouch into a rigid attention. “Uh, yeah! I mean—yes, my lady! S’more than enough!” She reached out with a wing and snatched the bag up, stashing it into a satchel she had hanging at her side. “Anywhere in particular you were wanting t’see?”

Rarity’s smile grew as she climbed into the taxi, only slightly wincing when she settled down onto the hard wooden seat. “Just show me everything, dear. I’m not quite from around here, and was hoping to see as much of the city as I could.”

“Yes, my lady!” the taxi mare said, already pulling back onto the street. “Scenic route it is!”

Rarity allowed herself to relax, leaning back into the—well, no. She tried to relax. She couldn’t help but shuffle about the seat in vain as she tried to find a position that didn’t send every bump and pothole in the road straight to her spine. The cheap wheels clattered loudly in her ears, nearly drowning out everything else with their racket. Within ten minutes Rarity had come to regret her decision as her ears, back, and flank all began to protest violently. This was nothing like the cushioned, enclosed wagon she’d ridden in before!

Alas, it was too late. A lady might complain, but she certainly didn’t whine, and Rarity was determined to experience the plight of the common pony. She grit her teeth and steeled herself for a long journey.

Gliding lazily across the sky, Gava’s beak twisted into a predatory grin. Her eagle eyes picked out a group of chickens scratching through the sparsely wooded field below. They were watching her warily, making their way towards tree cover. She chuckled softly. As if that would make a difference.

She folded her wings, allowing gravity to pull her into a dive. The chickens scattered, squawking their panic and leaping for cover.

Gava opened her wings, leveling out just a few meters above the grass. The undergrowth wasn’t nearly thick enough to offer any protection, and in an instant she was upon them. She killed three, spearing them on her sharp talons, but left the rest alive. They would be for another day.

She took a few quick bites to sate her hunger, one from each bird. A shiver of satisfaction passed through her at the hot blood streaming down her stark black feathers. Meat tasted better cooked, of course, but her father had taught her that the hunt wasn’t over until a huntress tasted her prey. Blood was the taste of success.

Gathering her catch into a satchel hanging beneath her wing, Gava pumped her wings and took flight. She climbed to a comfortable gliding altitude, scanning the horizon. Like many of the baronlands she had visited in Equestria, Tradewithers was mostly a collection of manors and keeps surrounded by sleepy villages and farms. Although they were almost entirely useless when it came to repairing an airship or finding jobs, they did have the advantage of rural land to hunt in. It only took a few dozen bits to obtain hunting rights from a local lord, and Gava relished the opportunities to stretch her wings and catch things she could eat. She saw a few farmers ushering their chickens inside. There was a part of her that was irritated by the shouts, the pitchforks, and the rocks, but truthfully she found the resistance only made her hunts more interesting.

Tradewithers wasn’t the average baronland, however. It was one of a very small number of baronlands which was also home to a free city. It was rare that landed nobles ever allowed settlements to sprout up without “supervision,” and the creative approach that they often took to concepts like “land ownership” and “individual freedoms” resulted in a suspicious tension between the two sides of the island. Most importantly for her, it meant that she had a place to dock her ship without fear of some headstrong noble getting ideas on having his own pet griffon, while still having land nearby suitable for hunting. She could survive without hunting, yes, but it was frustratingly difficult to find anything but berries and fruit in pony towns. She liked to dock here between jobs and chase some food that would at least try to run away.

The high stone wall of Tradewithers City came into view, cresting the string of low hills that framed the city borders. Gava began to drift steadily lower, making sure to pass over the gatehouse and circle it until the pair of guards stationed there gave her a nervous wave. She couldn’t help but grin at the way they shifted about, as if they thought she might drop out of the sky and eat them on a whim. It was a whim she’d had before, but she didn’t want to risk ruining her relationship with the local guards.

Despite the name, Tradewithers City was more of a big village than an actual city like the towering metropoli that covered more developed islands. The streets were unpaved dirt, the buildings mostly stone with thatch roofs, and the dock was a quiet collection of mostly idle piers. The one thing that Tradewithers had on other free settlements was that it had a fully garrisoned stone wall, complete with a trio of stocky towers spread along its length. She had heard many stories in the local taverns about the city’s founding, an event that had been so mixed up and embellished over the years that the only commonality was a popular revolt and a war of independence that technically never ended.

Within minutes she was circling over her ship, gradually bleeding altitude. The Roc’s Screech was distinct from the other vessels at dock, designed with the sweeping lines and open-air architecture that her father had claimed to be the hallmarks of griffon airship theory.

The ship had three sleek, elliptical levels, with a fully open deck on top and deep balconies ringing central rooms on the lower two. A powerful propeller engine set into the rear provided thrust, and small balloons distributed throughout the ship gave lift. A pair of curved masts angled out from the front of the ship like dorsal and ventral fins, each with four sails that could be turned to best catch the wind and provide a powerful burst of speed.

There was a pony standing out on the deck waiting, a mare with a dark black coat, leathery wings, and tufted ears marking her as a thestral.

The mare grinned as Gava landed, showing her sharp teeth. “Hey there, sister. Enjoy your hunt?”

Gava nodded, slinging her satchel off and holding it out. “It’s always nice to stretch my wings, Ana. Are we ready to go?”

Ana opened the satchel, peeking inside. “Oh, great,” she sighed. “More chicken.”

“Ponies don’t keep many animals they’re willing to part with,” Gava said, walking past the other mare and towards the door that led below deck. “Chickens are all they offered.”

“Maybe you should stop asking,” Ana said, turning to follow. “Dog is quite tasty, y’know.”

“It’s hard enough making friends as is, Anatami,” Gava said. “Half of the guards already have nightmares about us. I’d rather not turn them into reality.” She opened the door and started down the steps.

Ana shrugged, closing the door behind her. “Well, you don’t have to let them see us. Topgallant heard some interesting news while he was out on the town this week.”

“That so?”

They came out onto the common room, a combination kitchen and lounge centered around a long wooden table. A pair of earth ponies were seated there, passing a bottle between themselves.

The first, a lithe red stallion wearing a worn duster, wrinkled his nose as he looked up. “Horseapples, Boss! At least clean the blood off your feathers before you come back to civilization.”

Ana snorted, sticking out her forked tongue and hissing playfully. “What’s wrong, Drift Eye? Not used to us yet?”

Gava ignored the exchange, instead taking a place at the table next to the other stallion. He was thin as well, although his cool blue coat didn’t have the same muscular sheen. “Ana said you had something for me?”

The stallion—Topgallant—gave a few little nods. “That’s right. Y’know that Crazy Rich guy? That rich maniac out in Heighton?”

Gava nodded. “I’ve heard a few things.”

“Well he’s made another big reveal,” Top said. “Says he sent his salvage crew down to Old Canterlot and came back with a bunch of Gifted. Dug ‘em up out of some ruins or something. Six of ‘em! Stronger than anypony alive.”

Gava chuckled, rolling her eyes. “You should know better than that, Top. That old sire makes up half of the shit he shows there and embellishes the rest.”

“This is different,” Top said. “The rumors… they’re all consistent. The stories are too similar for it to be all made up. They all talk about a unicorn mare powerful enough to strip the clothes off every noble in a ballroom at once, and they say she was levitating books at the Heighton library and talking as if she could cast any spell there is.” He tapped a hoof against the table thoughtfully. “This isn’t like the usual stories. There’s something here, I’m sure of it.”

“Hrm.” Gava cocked her head, looking to Ana. “What do you think?”

Ana grinned. “I think that there’s a dozen hungry corporations and twice as many scheming lords that would pay a pretty penny to get their hooves on ponies like that.”

Drift Eye cleared his throat, raising a hoof. “If it’s true, the bounties will be out within a few days anyways. What’s the rush?”

“The rush is that open bounties are an absolute clusterfuck,” Ana said. “There’ll be other teams competing with us everywhere we go. If we’re gonna do this, then we need the head start.”

Gava shrugged, standing up and taking a few steps away from the table. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to look into it. Worst thing that happens is we waste some time and end up in a big city full of good work. If we’re lucky, then we might just be rich enough to retire. I think I’ll take those odds.”

She turned back to her crew, her break twisting into a predatory grin. “Top, set course for Heighton.”

Author's Note

Will Twilight discover the key to curing Fluttershy? Will Rarity's rump be able to take the stress of her cab ride? Will Drift Eye ever get used to living with carnivores? Find out next time on Empty Horizons!

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VIII: The Chill

“That’s everything.”

There was a long stretch of silence as Twilight looked to the other ponies at the table. Applejack and Rainbow Dash were watching her with mirrored expressions of concern and shock. Sea Sabre’s face remained just as cool as ever, a stark contrast to the wide-eyed, twitchy excitement of Dusty Tome besides her. Trails and Flint weren’t seated at the table, instead leaning against the small kitchenette across the room.

Sea Sabre was the first to speak. “So the dive was a success.” She closed her eyes, lips curling up into a thin smile. “That’s good.” She scribbled a few lines into the journal open before her and closed it with a wing.

“Success?” Twilight echoed. “Weren’t you listening? We lost Lily Quick’s notes! Who knows how much ponykind was set back?”

Applejack cleared her throat. “I think what Sabre here means to say, sugar cube, is that ya got what y’all came for.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow said, gesturing to the three books Twilight had laid out on the table. “We came for the books, right? Believe me, Twi—I’m sorry about Owloysius and, well… everything else. It sucks. But you can fix Fluttershy, right? You can wake her up?”

Twilight’s ears flicked back, her nostrils flaring as her brow furrowed. “You weren’t there, Rainbow!” she snapped. She grit her teeth, holding back the urge to scream. “You didn’t see the bodies. Those ponies died horrible deaths, and everything they worked for was destroyed! They died for nothing!” She could feel her throat tightening as the surge of anger subsided. Warm tears began to stream down her cheeks, and she slumped down in the chair.

“Nothin’?” Flint chuckled. “I dunno ‘bout you, but if there’s a dozen horns down there then m’sure someone’ll find a use for ‘em eventually.”

A ragged sob shook through Twilight’s body. Images flashed through her head of masked salvagers slicing the horn off her own dessicated corpse.

Rainbow turned to glare at the stallion. “What the buck, dude?”

Sabre glanced in his direction as well, her expression hard. “Flint, remove yourself.”

Flint frowned, looking to Trails as if for support. “What? Why?”

Trails rolled her eyes. She laid a hoof over his shoulder, guiding him out of the room. “Just come on. Haven’t you ever heard of tact, you witless buffoon?”

Applejack watched the two of them leave before leaning over and pulling Twilight into a warm hug. “Hey now, it’s alright. T’aint fair what ya had to see, I know. It’s scary. We’re all scared.”

“Hey!” Rainbow raised a hoof. “I’m not scared!”

Applejack sighed, shooting her a sideways glare. “Yeah, well, I’m just about as frightened as a fat hen when a shadow passes by. I think we could all do with some good food and rest. How about we head on back to Heighton, get Fluttershy all fixed up, and then figure out where we go from there, alright? How’s that sound?”

Twilight sniffled, leaning into the hug. “Good.”

Sea Sabre stood up, nodding. “Very well. I’ll set a course for Mr. Rich’s estate. We’ll restock and await your decision.”

“C’mon then,” Applejack said, gently pulling Twilight out of her seat. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Twilight allowed Applejack to lead her around the table and towards the nearest exit. She saw Rainbow frowning worriedly as she stood to follow, but couldn’t muster the energy to tell her that she’d be okay.

“Twilight, one more thing.”

Twilight paused in the doorway. She looked back to Sea Sabre through blurry eyes. The other mare hadn’t moved except to turn and face her.

“Wyrds can be very dangerous,” she said. “Even moreso when they take you by surprise. I know that that owl was your pet once, and I’m sorry that you had to go through that.” She began to walk for the same doorway that Flint and Trails had left through, still talking. “Things could have gone much worse in that tree of yours, but they didn’t. You did well.” She paused just outside the doorway, dipping her head slightly. “Thank you.”

She stepped out of the room, saving Twilight from having to think up a response and force the words out.

The three friends walked through the narrow halls of the Argo in silence, the steady clip-clop of their hooves on the metal floor barely audible beneath the persistent roar of the engines outside. Rainbow Dash came up on Twilight’s other side, and together she and Applejack provided their friend with the warm support of their bodies as they walked.

The engine noise grew gradually louder as they approached the rear of the ship. The Argo had been custom-made by Crazy Rich for Sabre and her team, and as such had never been designed with spare rooms for guests. The ship had been optimized for speed and fuel efficiency, and so the only extra space was whatever was available in the cargo hold.

The crew had prepared some makeshift quarters for Twilight and her two friends, however, setting up thin metal partitions along one wall to form a trio of simple, topless rooms. Each one had been supplied with a small desk, a wardrobe, and a surprisingly plush mattress. Rainbow Dash had largely ignored her room, instead opting to build herself a rough-hewn cloudhome which floated gently several meters above the center of the room. She’d even carved out her own makeshift furniture, giving her friends free range to loot the pieces the crew had supplied her. Applejack had refused the opportunity, mumbling about abuse of hospitality and the principle of the thing. Twilight had begrudgingly admitted that she could use an extra desk, and after further thought had decided that she didn’t like sleeping so close to the floor, so had stacked the spare mattress atop her own as well. She hadn’t found any use for the wardrobe, but it still bothered her whenever she walked past the room and saw it standing alone and unused.

Twilight thanked her friends as they came out into the hold, gently pushing them away. She could feel their eyes on her back as she stumbled into her room and slid the door shut behind her. She stood there for a few moments, one hoof on the door, listening. She heard them speaking with each other in quiet tones, and then finally the sound of hooves and wings as they each went for their respective quarters.

She sighed, crawling into her bed and curling up beneath the blankets. She had initially found it almost impossible to sleep on the ship, beset on all sides by the rumbling of the engines, the constant ticking gears behind every wall, and the periodic hiss of steam. It didn’t help that the location of her room in the cargo hold meant she was often unable to turn the lights out.

With a lazy flick of her horn she cast a spell. There was a low sucking sound, and the noise gradually faded away to nothingness. Twilight closed her eyes, remembering when Celestia had taught her the spell.

She lay in silence, the blanket pulled up high over her head. All alone. For a few blissful moments she cleared her mind. She simply existed, there in the moment.

It didn’t last. The corpses that had been awaiting her in the library flashed before her. She thought of the weight that those ponies had taken upon themselves, and she wondered how it must have felt to realize they had failed. She had that same weight on her, now. That crushing weight of all of Equestria, of who knew how many years past, of the Princesses and her friends and family. Of Lily Quick, who had hoped in vain that someone might find her notes, if only so that the lives of her comrades wouldn’t have been wasted.

Twilight clutched her pillow tightly, shaking. She curled up as tight as she could, but the weight didn’t go away. What was she, against all this? A flunked test was one thing. She had made just one mistake, and the collective works of Equestria’s last, brightest minds had been washed away into oblivion. She would have to start from scratch now, finding the answer when she didn’t even know the question. She didn’t have Rainbow Dash’s cocksure confidence, or Applejack’s steadfast grit, or even Pinkie’s unending optimism. This wasn’t some test that Celestia had conjured for her, designed to challenge but to still be achievable. This was the end of the world. She was going to die just like the ponies in her library. A thousand years would pass until some salvager came across her bones and took everything of worth, without even a thought for who she was.

She squeezed her eyes tighter, willing it to all be a hideous nightmare. She wanted to open her eyes and be back in her library, with the sun streaming in through the windows. She wanted to read a letter written in Celestia’s flowing script that told her about a problem and how she could fix it. She felt so alone.

Twilight flinched as her blanket was pulled down off of her face. She looked up to see Applejack standing over her, with Rainbow Dash hovering behind. Their lips were moving, but she couldn’t hear anything through her silence spell. Reluctantly, she allowed the spell to fizzle.

Rainbow’s voice faded into being. It was a muted at first, as if she was speaking through a thick mask, but came into clarity with a barely audible pop.

“... okay tonight, Twi?”

Twilight took a deep breath, steeling herself for conversation. “I’m fine, girls. Just tired.” She saw Applejack’s lips harden, but Rainbow spoke first.

“Oh, yeah?” she landed, jabbing Twilight lightly with a hoof. “Do you usually scream into your pillows when you’re tired? Cause I usually just take a nap or something.”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “Twilight, we know y’all ain’t alright. We’re your friends. Y’all don’t have to try and solve every problem in the world on your own.”

Twilight’s eyes darted between the two of them, confused. Had she been screaming into her pillow? She looked down, and saw the wet smudges of her tears soaked into it. She shook her head. “Everypony’s counting on me, Applejack. I don’t know if I can do it.”

Applejack sighed, settling down next to her. “Hey, now. Y’all’re the smartest dang filly I’ve ever met, alright? If there’s anypony that can do it, then it’s you, but y’all ain’t alone in it. You’ve never been alone. RD and I are right here by your side, and that ain’t never gonna change.”

“Yeah!” Rainbow said, giving her a confident grin. “Just tell us what you need, Twi. We’re with you until the end.”

Twilight sighed, laying flat on her back. “But what if I can’t do it?”

“You don’t have to,” Rainbow said. “We’ll do it.”

“And what’s the worst that’ll happen, huh?” Applejack added. “This world ain’t all that bad, is it? Nopony else is gonna die, Twilight. The apocalypse already done came and gone.”

Twilight laid there for a few moments longer, taking comfort in the warmth of her friend’s body. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Rainbow grinned. “It’s been a few hundred years since we had a good old-fashioned sleepover, hasn’t it?”

“Here we are, my lady.”

“Thank you, dear.” Rarity stepped gingerly out of the cab, levitating a few bits over to the driver. He accepted them graciously, dipped his head, and pulled back out into the street.

She looked up at the building before her, raising a hoof to shade her eyes from the noontime sun. When Rarity thought of an ‘apartment,’ she usually thought of the squat brick-and-mortar constructs that occupied so much of Manehattan, or perhaps the sleek glass-walled suites of the downtown area. What stood before her instead was far more reminiscent of the old towers that middling nobles and high-ranking bureaucrats often used in Old Canterlot. It was a tall tower of pale white marble, only slightly smudged by the ever-present drifts of ash and smog, at least six stories tall and topped with a round, conical cap. A broad stairway described a gentle ascent along the outer wall, with a single flat landing on each floor. Swirling designs of gold and silver had been painted onto the stone wall, mimicking the Old Canterlot style so well that Rarity was convinced it was intentional.

Whitehorn’s card put his apartment on the third floor, and so Rarity started up the stairs at a polite trot. The tower was on the western reaches of central Heighton, giving her a magnificent view of the city’s sprawling dockyards, the ships painted red and gold by the setting sun.

The third floor landing was wider than the others, stretching nearly halfway around the bulk of the tower. A trio of arching stone bridges anchored here, connecting to the network of towers that rose above the smoke clouds like a city of shining ivory built atop the dregs below. Hoof traffic was light on the bridges, which seemed to mostly service a colorful array of private cabs and carriages.

A single arched double door was set into the eastern wall, and Rarity slipped through it into a wide hall that ran straight through to the opposite side of the tower. Electric lamps lining the walls provided steady light, and the plush red carpet combined with the warm orange paint to make a cozy, comfortable atmosphere.

There were only four doors in the hall, two to each side spaced evenly apart, so Rarity didn’t have to look long to find the carved wooden “32” that designated Whitehorn’s home. She took a moment to check her appearance, straightening the short, blue-hemmed white dress she had worn today. She had come back from her tour of the city yesterday with her coat smudged with soot, and had spent two hours in Mr. Rich’s personal beauty suite that night, but she still worried that she might have missed a spot. Satisfied, she raised a hoof and knocked daintily on the door.

It was opened promptly—though not so quick as to startle—by an aging pegasus mare with a pale green coat and a polite smile. “How could I be of service, madam?”

“I was hoping to speak with Whitehorn.” Rarity proffered a small curtsey. “Lady Rarity. He should be expecting me.”

The mare bowed, her smile widening ever so slightly. “Of course, my lady. If you’ll come with me?”

The mare led her into a central sitting room with a small kitchen set behind a raised granite bar. A thick circular sofa occupied the center of the room, looking out on a curved, sliding glass double-door and the balcony beyond it. A pair of wooden doors lined one wall, while the other was empty except for a few landscape paintings, framed newspaper articles, and a tall but thin bookcase. The most surprising part of the apartment was the high vaulted ceiling, which gave space for a selection of small candelabra chandeliers to hang down and illuminate the room with their gentle glow. Electric lamps were still stationed around the room to provide a more consistent light, but the candlelight and warm colors gave the edges of the room a quiet, intimate feel.

The mare closed the door behind them, gesturing towards the room. “Please, be at home, Lady Rarity.” She then walked to the further door, tapping politely with a hoof. “Sir?”

“What is it, Fritzy?” The voice was muffled by the wood, but Rarity was easily able to identify it as belonging to Whitehorn.

“Lady Rarity is here, sir.”

There was a sudden thump from the other side. “Ah, Rarity! I’ll be right out.”

Rarity walked over to the sliding glass door, looking out onto the city. The windows faced east, and with the bulk of the balcony and the bridges it was difficult to catch more than a glimpse of the smoke-clogged streets below. From here all she could see were the vibrantly painted, gleaming towers and the bridges connecting them.

A click behind her announced the opening of the door, and Rarity turned to see Whitehorn stepping out into the room with a broad smile. “My lady! To what do I owe the pleasure?” He was wearing just a solid white button-down, sleeves rolled up, though he had left the shirt unbuttoned.

Rarity smiled back, offering her hoof. “Just a few things on my mind, darling. I thought we might have ourselves a pleasant little soirée.”

He smirked, taking the hoof in his own and dipping his head. “A Countess come to speak with me? What can I offer that Crazy couldn’t?”

Rarity giggled. “I don’t know if I could keep Crazy focused long enough to actually have a two-way conversation. I think we both know how he is.”

“Well, I’m certainly looking forwards to continuing our conversation from before. Take a seat, please.” Whitehorn gestured towards his kitchen. “Would you like a drink?”

“Some tea would be marvelous,” Rarity said, settling down onto the sofa. The serving mare—Fritzy, Whitehorn had called her—had already made her way to the kitchen area. There was a quiet fwoosh as she turned on the gas and put some water to boil.

Whitehorn sat down opposite her, the light from the window casting him into silhouette. “And pour a cider for me, Fritzy. Now then, my lady, how can I help you?”

Rarity pursed her lips, uncertain exactly how to start. “I took that walk you recommended,” she began. “I was less than charmed by what I saw.”

“Is that so?” Whitehorn asked. “What did you see, exactly?”

Rarity’s lips curled into a frown just short of a snarl as she remembered. Laborers living in the eastern neighborhoods covered in ash, trudging about with tired eyes while those to the west laughed and joked over their bits. Worst of all was the Fifths, where the buildings were literally falling apart in some places, blocking off roads so pitted and potholed that the taxis refused to run there.

“I saw enough.”

He raised a brow. “My my, Lady Rarity. I didn’t think I’d ever see an expression so ugly on such a beautiful face.”

Rarity looked up at that, momentarily unsure whether to be embarrassed, offended, or flattered. After a moment to recover, her frown twisted into a bashful smile. “I’m sorry, darling. It’s just so… so much has changed! I’ve never seen poverty outside of a novella in all my life. Every town had a few places a pony could go if she needed help. Why, even Celestia would open her doors to those in need!” Fritzy arrived with the drinks, and Rarity accepted her tea graciously. “Thank you, dear.”

Whitehorn chuckled softly. “Many ponies would say that she still does.” He continued to watch Rarity, ignoring Fritzy as she set a tall mug of cider down in front of him.

“That’s different,” Rarity said. She levitated the tea to her muzzle, allowing the pleasant aroma to soothe her. She had seen a few unnerving displays of faith during her tour. They stood out with their bright cleanliness in a city otherwise choked in smoke, from squat stone buildings in the eastern districts to the immaculate white and blue pyramids to the west. Stained glass windows depicting the Alicorn Princesses marked them to passerby as churches, where the common pony went to worship Celestia and Luna and pray for divine guidance. “The Princesses aren’t gods. They never were.”

“Then what were they?” Whitehorn sipped at his cider, leaning back into the sofa cushions. “I’m no historian, but I’ve seen some classic artwork. Crazy certainly has an impressive gallery of it. The Princesses certainly look like goddesses in every painting I’ve seen.”

Rarity’s ears flicked. “Please don’t look to educate me on my own dead culture, darling,” she quipped. “You’ve only seen a few paintings. The Princesses were no more gods to us than a mare is to her foal. Powerful, certainly, but not to be worshipped. They loved us, and so we loved them back. We bowed out of respect, and raised magnificent monuments and held enthusiastic celebrations, but we never went into some cathedral to pray for them.” She snickered, tossing her mane. “If you wanted guidance then a simple letter would more than suffice.”

“Hrm.” Whitehorn nodded thoughtfully, one hoof against his chin. “Do you know, Countess, I believe you may have just touched on the problem.”

“And how is that, dear?”

He stood, walking up to the glass behind her. “Quite the view, isn’t it?”

Rarity followed his gaze. The windows faced east, giving a clear view of the tower city awash with the red and gold of the setting sun. She was irritated with the elliptical way of answering the question, but a small part of her enjoyed the melodrama. “It reminds me of Canterlot. Not quite as majestic, but… gorgeous, certainly.”

Whitehorn seemed to think for a few moments before continuing. “This is what the rich see whenever they look out their windows. The ponies in power. Come, join me.” He snorted, shaking his head slowly as she stood. “Some of them never even go down to the surface. They have everything delivered, or use errand foals to conduct their business. They have their own personal ships that dock right at their front door if they need to travel. On some of the higher islands they even need to import the air they breathe.”

Rarity arrived at his side, tea floating besides her, and simply took in the view. It had become clear to her that the architects of upper Heighton had a developed liking to the Old Canterlot style. For a few vanishingly quick moments she almost believed that it was real, that she truly was back in Canterlot, speaking to just another client in his tower top suite. With a twitch of her eyes the illusion shattered. These towers were a poor mimicry at best of the true Canterlot, and although the architects clearly drew inspiration from the ancient city, they hadn’t refrained from adding their own innovations. She sighed inwardly, but kept her face controlled. A lady did not entertain idle fantasy.

She didn’t say anything, simply waiting. She had the feeling that nothing she said would influence the conversation at this point.

Whitehorn slid the glass aside, stepping out onto the balcony. Rarity kept stride with him, her gaze following his as he looked down to the city below. “None of them see the city as it truly is,” he said.

It was a harsh contrast, between the vibrant gleam of the towers and the ruddy haze of grays and browns of the city. There were patches of color below, where the richer citizens were able to afford the expense of the constant cleaning and painting needed to fend off the relentless advance of black, but they were few and far between beyond the center of the island.

Rarity looked away from the city, up to the unicorn besides her. He was nodding again, to himself more than anyone else. “It sounds like you’ve spent some time thinking about this,” she said.

“I have,” Whitehorn said, still looking down on the city. “I think we could make things better, if we had more ponies like you.” He turned to her, meeting her eyes. “Mares and stallions that understand how far a little generosity can go.”

Rarity felt her cheeks warming. She took a deep sip from her tea and looked away to the horizon in an attempt to hide her blush. “I would love to help, Whitehorn, but all I have is the bits that Mr. Rich gives me and my hooves. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

He didn’t say anything at first. Rarity was just beginning to wonder if he might have walked back inside without her hearing when he finally responded. “There’s an island to the west of here. Fellis. It’s become something of a refugee haven in the wake of some recent calamities, and I’ve been planning a trip for the past few weeks.”

Rarity tilted her head, looking back to him. “Why do you bring it up, dear?”

“Perhaps you could come along,” he said. “You may not be able to write an article on it, but I’m sure the help of a powerful Gifted like yourself would be appreciated in the refugee camps. I’ll be traveling on a friend's yacht. There’s plenty of extra room if you or some of your friends would be interested.”

Rarity turned to face him fully, confident now in the state of her cheeks, and smiled. “It sounds lovely, darling, but I’d have to talk it over with my friends before I could go gallivanting away to another island.”

He shrugged. “I can certainly understand that. I won’t be leaving for a few days yet, so you have time to think it over.” He stepped back inside, raising his voice. “Fritzy! Give Countess Rarity the details on my Fellis Island trip.”

Rarity followed him in. “Isn’t that a bit premature?”

He looked over his shoulder, flashing her a grin. “Hardly. If you’re interested in coming, then all you have to do is show up on time. If not, well… I’ll understand. My door is always open to you, either way.”

“Oh, well thank you.” Rarity dipped her head. “I suppose I had better get going, though. My friends should be returning from their dive soon, and I’m looking forward to meeting them when they arrive.”

“Of course,” Whitehorn said. He reached out and grabbed her hoof, lifting it up to his lips. “A pleasure talking to you, my lady.”

Rarity’s smile widened. The blush had come back. “Likewise.”

Okay, I think I’ve got it.

Twilight’s quill floated back to the top of the page, ready for the hallowed triple-check. She was sitting at an oversized writing desk that she’d dragged into Fluttershy’s suite that morning, and her back was just starting to develop the satisfying ache of too many hours spent hunched over parchment.

Her friends milled anxiously behind her, on the very edge of her awareness. She’d wanted to begin her study the instant the Argo made landfall, but her friends had insisted on dinner and a full night’s rest. They had even convinced her to eat breakfast first, much to her chagrin.

She had some vague sense that they were watching her like some errant filly, relieving themselves in shifts. They spoke quietly while in the room, though it would have hardly mattered even if they shouted at the top of their lungs. She had cast a noise-dampening spell over herself hours ago.

The three salvaged books were all propped up before her, with scrolls of parchment arranged beneath them. She brought one scroll to her eyes with a gentle flick of magic, chewing on her quill. She had synthesized a comprehensive thaumotopsy spell from the various diagnostic techniques in the books, but hadn’t quite committed it to memory yet. With her mind refreshed, she turned to Fluttershy’s sleeping form, pulling the magic from her own reserves and weaving it around the yellow mare’s internal leylines. Both of their eyes gleamed white as excess magic bled off into the air.

Nothing had changed since the last time she checked. Fluttershy was enchanted by a hibernation spell of incredible complexity, wrapped around a plain and simple regeneration. The first mystery was in the design of the enchantment’s outer shell. It had all the redundancies, dead ends, and needless complexities of instinctual magic, and a sort of cyclical architecture similar to what she had seen during her brief interaction with changeling magic during their attack on Canterlot so long ago. Maybe a side effect of being interred within a cocoon? It was impossible to verify anything without a test subject.

What truly puzzled her was a scattering of aberrations along the outer edges of the shell, spidering their way inwards like cracks in a glass. She’d seen nothing like it before. The cracks were more than an absence of magic; they had a substance to them that warped the spell matrix around them like a great mass warping space around itself. Twilight could only assume that their interference had caused the enchantment to persist even after Fluttershy had been removed from the cocoon.

Despite the cracks, Twilight took some comfort in what was otherwise a complex but understandable spell. She didn’t want to touch the dark cracks that worried at the edges, but she hoped that they could be worked around. She had already devised a counterspell that—taking into account the warping influence—should fizzle the enchantment along the clean sections, like cutting wood along its grain.

Allowing the thaumotopsy to fade, she opened her eyes and reviewed the scroll where she had written the counterspell. It was irritably sloppy, stained with revisions and margin comments, so she took some time to create a clean copy on a blank sheet.

Everything was in order. She had triple-checked her work, leaving nothing left but to go through with it. There was the usual pull to check over it a fourth time, but she knew the time investment wouldn’t be worth the negligible gain. She had already done the calculations on that.

With a hiss and a pop, her hearing returned to normal. Not that there was much to hear. Her friends were being very quiet.

She stood up, stretching her neck. “I think—” Her voice cut out as her dry throat rebelled. She paused to gulp down the glass of water that somepony had set at her desk, turning to face the rest of the room. “Okay. I’ve got it.”

It looked like Applejack and Rarity were on break from the vigil. Rainbow was slouched against the doorframe, mouth hanging open as she snoozed, while Pinkie Pie bounced in place besides her.

“Oh, I’m so excited! I can’t wait to speak with her again, and take her to parties, and to have tea parties, oh! And to play chess with her, and—”

Twilight looked up at that. Chess?

Rainbow startled awake. She stood up, stretching. “Huh, what? You’re sure it will work?”

Twilight gave a tired little nod. Now that she’d pulled herself out of the pile of scrolls and books the hours without rest were starting to catch up to her. “Don’t worry, Rainbow. She’ll be fine.”

Applejack stepped back into the room, with Rarity in tow behind her. “Y’all about ready to kick this rodeo off, Twilight?”

“I am.” Twilight positioned herself at the base of Fluttershy’s bed, open scrolls levitating before her. “You girls can stay and watch, as long as you keep your distance.” She squared her hooves and closed her eyes, feeling for the enchantment wrapped around her friend.

Much like demolishing a building, the fizzling of a persistent enchantment was a great deal of preparation for just a few moments of action. The trick wasn’t in destroying the spell, per se—any novice magus could smash a spell matrix, given enough time or power. The difficulty came in doing it so that the spell would collapse inwards—canceling itself out—and in ensuring that any leftover magic was dispersed safely.

Twilight’s horn glowed as she charged her magic, placing her mental chisels as she had calculated at precisely the right points. She took a deep breath to steady herself, and released the charge.

It was immediately obvious that something was wrong. She had discerned the warping influence of the dark cracks, but there must have been some flaw in her model. Her own magic was pulling tighter around the cracks than she had anticipated.

A chill ran down her spine as the dark cracks suddenly lurched into motion, worming their way towards the regeneration at the center of the enchantment. No! The distortion could have deadly effect once it reached the healing spell, and Twilight had precious little time to circumvent the issue. She could hear Fluttershy start to whimper and twitch as the cracks licked at the edges of the regeneration.

Twilight grit her teeth, pumping more energy through her horn. It would be messy, but it would keep her friend safe from the immediate danger.

The other mares let out cries of alarm as the enchantment burst apart into a kaleidoscope of charged magical sparks. They held too much energy to fizzle quickly, and so Twilight drew them all into her own horn, wincing as the wild energy surged through her body.

She took deep breaths, calming her racing heart and allowing her body’s natural processes to dissipate and contain the surplus energy. Finally she opened her eyes, hooves trembling and an oily nausea building up in her gut. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds since she began.

Fluttershy looked back at her with wide, trembling eyes. The yellow mare scanned the room, only slightly relaxing as she recognized her friends.

“Uh, girls?” she whispered shakily. “W-what’s going on?”

“Fluttershy!”

The name came from four mouths at once, and soon the room was filled with cheers and shouted greetings. Fluttershy pulled the bedsheets up tighter around herself, letting out a little “Eep!” at the sudden cacophony.

A hoof slapped Twilight’s back. “Nice one, egghead! Took you long enough, though!”

Twilight looked up at Rainbow blearily, cheeks bulging. I need to sit down. She’d never had this kind of reaction to absorbing wild magic before.

Rainbow frowned, leaning back as she looked over Twilight’s face. “Uh, Twi? You feeling okay?”

Definitely not. Twilight opened her mouth to voice her thoughts, only to be suddenly interrupted by a spat of high-velocity bile.

Rainbow flinched back—too late. The vomit splashed against her chest, staining the blue fur black. “What the—Twi? Twilight!”

Twilight’s legs finally gave out. The floor rushed up to meet her, the anxious calls of her friends echoing faintly in her ears, and she fell back into the darkness.

She floated there, lost in the black. It was cold and quiet, and though she had no sense of time passing, she sometimes felt her body being pushed or pulled by unseen currents. After some eternity her thoughts drifted lazily back to her, and she wondered if she had finally died. Perhaps the strange cracks had filled her up, eating her own magic from the inside out until she was nothing but a shriveled husk bundled up on the plush carpet of Mr. Rich’s guest suite.

Is this the afterlife? She had always imagined it to be a happier place, with rolling green fields and sunshine and all of the family and friends that had perished in her absence. Maybe she had been deemed unworthy of that fate, sentenced instead to this infinite nothingness as punishment for her failures? The thought should have petrified her, yet in her current state she couldn’t seem to muster more than a passing curiosity for the notion.

There was another tug at her body, this one stronger than all the others before it. From the corner of her eye Twilight saw a glimmer of pale blue light, the rays passing by like sunlight filtering through the ocean. It was gone as quickly as it came.

It might have been days before the light returned. It was brighter this time, much brighter, and Twilight realized that she was floating in water as cold and dark as that on the bottom of the seafloor. Her fear seemed to catch up with her all at once, driving out the calm serenity that had fallen over her mind. In an instant she was awake and alert, her heart pounding in her chest and the blood rushing in her ears. She tried to turn to look around, but found that she couldn’t move. She had an instinctive urge to scream, yet she couldn’t even make a strangled whimper. She couldn’t even open her mouth in an attempt to breathe, even though her lungs burned for lack of oxygen. All she could do was dart her eyes about in a terrified, primal attempt to understand what was happening.

She was falling, drifting deeper down into the water. With a muffled thump her body landed against something hard and flat. The light passed over her again, and Twilight recognized that she was lying upon a familiar looking wooden floor.

Something grabbed at her tail and began to pull. Again she tried to scream. Again her body denied her.

Warm tears began to fall from her eyes. Cold talons grabbed her legs and turned her onto her back. The light was bright as the sun now, silhouetting the bulky form of a griffon standing over her. She recognized the windows, the jagged hole where the door had been, the shape of bookshelves hinted at by the way the light fell. She was in her library, now flooded with water. The black shapes of waterlogged books and bodies floated in the water. Owloysius sat on a gently rocking perch by the door, only his eyes visible in the dim light.

“Now what have we got here?” the griffon said, leaning closer. She didn’t seem to even notice that they were currently at the bottom of the ocean, drowning under thousands of pounds of water.

Help me, Twilight wanted to say. Her eyes were fixed to the griffon’s cool grey pupils. She couldn’t look away. Splotches of red floated off her face, and Twilight realized that she was crying tears of blood.

The griffon snorted. “Just another unicorn that died alone and worthless.” A single talon came up to stroke at Twilight’s horn. “Well, not completely worthless.”

No! Get away! Help! Sweet Celestia, Luna, anypony!

The griffon held a bonesaw in her other talons. She hummed a cheery tune as she set it at the base of Twilight’s horn. “Here will end the story of Twilight Sparkle, who died alone when she had nobody left to fail.”

Please, stop! Stop! I’m sorry!

The grinding of the saw against her horn filled Twilight’s ears, even as her head exploded in pain. Unable to open her mouth and scream, she could do nothing but watch the griffon work, her horrified shrieks echoing through her mind.

Author's Note

What's happened to our dear Twilight? Will Rarity join Whitehorn on a trip west? And will Flint ever get any manners? Find out next time on Empty Horizons!

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IX: The Catch

Rarity was sitting on a cushion by Twilight’s bedside, a half-ignored book levitating before her. The Count of Mareti Cristo was an old favorite of hers, a tale full of sweeping emotion and yearning romance, and she’d been ecstatic when Mr. Rich had shown it off to her during a walk through one of his several reliquaries. An original print, he had said, preserved in an iron lockbox within the wreckage of an ancient Equestrian vessel. She hadn’t been so crude as to take the weathered book itself, but had been quick to have a servant fetch her a reprinted copy from the local library. She was finding it hard to focus on the words, however. Try as she might, she couldn’t distract herself from the very pressing issue at hoof.

Twilight had collapsed right in front of Fluttershy’s bed, and she hadn’t woken up for the past three days.

Even now she lay twisted up in her sheets, head turning, hooves twitching, and her lips parting to let loose strained grunts of pain every few moments. She would sometimes throw terrifying fits where she screamed and begged for help or forgiveness for a few hoarse minutes, unrelenting no matter how many of her friends came to comfort her.

Rainbow Dash was in the room as well, wings working as she paced across the ceiling. Pinkie had gone with Fluttershy for a walk through the estate gardens a couple hours ago, and they’d yet to return; the soft-spoken mare had been stricken with a petrifying mix of shock and guilt since waking up. Applejack had meanwhile been throwing herself into helping the crew of the Argos prepare for their next outing, only saying that Twilight would want them to be ready when she woke up.

Rarity grimaced, looking over to where she had spread Twilight’s neatly penned notes across the writing desk in her quarters. Trying to parse the dense thaumic equations was like diving horn-first into a slab of concrete. The sparse spellcraft lessons she’d received as a foal were like a desert puddle compared to the vast ocean of Twilight’s own arcane knowledge. The best that Rarity could tell her friends was that something had gone awry during the disenchantment, and Twilight had opted to accept the consequences onto herself instead of letting the wild magic travel freely. Rarity had seen unicorn’s faint from magic overloads before, but never for more than a few hours at a time.

And never with screaming night terrors. Rarity didn’t want to imagine what they would do if Twilight didn’t wake up soon. It had been surprisingly easy to keep her fate a secret—Mr. Rich happily believed that she was merely caught up in a pile of books, and Sea Sabre had done little more than arch a brow at the explanation—but she feared the illusion wouldn’t hold for long. She had been hoping to join Whitehorn on his trip westwards, but perhaps she would instead have to join her friends in vainly searching for some cure instead.

She sighed, trying once more to return to her book. There was nothing to do but wait, and to hope.

It was no good. She was so distracted by the situation that she didn’t even notice the silence until Rainbow Dash spoke up.

“Hey, do you hear that?” she said.

Rarity looked up, seeing that Rainbow had stopped her aerial pacing and was now hovering stationary beside the bed. “Hear what, darling?”

“Twilight. She’s quiet.”

Rarity scrambled to her hooves as properly as she could, letting her book fall to the ground. Now that she was paying attention she came to the same realization. Twilight was lying still for the first time in days, her mouth closed and the rictus of pain on her face fading into something distantly peaceful.

“Twilight?” Rarity said, taking a few hopeful steps closer. “Twilight dear, can you hear us?”

No response. Rainbow hovered a little closer. “C’mon Twi, wake up!” She nudged Twilight with a hoof.

Twilight’s horn burst into light.

Rarity flinched away at the sudden brightness, her horn tingling at the wave of magic. When she looked back, one hoof shading her eyes from the glow, she saw Twilight sitting up in the bed, her eyes glowing with energy, fixed on Rainbow Dash, and contorted with fury. Rainbow was frozen mid-air in the purple glow of Twilight’s magic, eyes bulging and mouth open as she gagged for breath.

“Twilight?” Rarity called, speaking up to be heard over the vortex of wind summoned by the rogue unicorn. “Twilight, please!” She backed up against the wall behind her, ears flattening against her head.

Twilight ignored her, instead climbing slowly out of the bed and advancing on Rainbow. The pegasus was floated backwards with her, still caught in her telekinetic grasp, until she was pushed up against the wall. Her wings twitched in futile resistance as she attempted to escape the vice of Twilight’s grip, knocking a mirror off the wall.

Rarity watched in terror as one friend began to choke the life out of the other. She turned and saw Pinkie gallop into the room, the rug bunching beneath her as she skidded to a stop. The pink mare’s whole body was vibrating, and her face was a mask of determination. Fluttershy entered a moment later, gasping for breath.

“What’s happening?” Fluttershy yelled.

“It’s a doozy!” Pinkie shouted back. She leveled a hoof on Twilight. “If you don’t stop hurting Dashie right now I’m going to have to slap some sense into you, Twilight!”

Twilight slowly turned her head, and though her pupils were impossible to see through the glow of her eyes, Rarity thought she saw a hint of confusion on her face.

“You asked for it, filly!” Pinkie reared up on her hind legs, drew back a hoof, and punched Twilight square in the jaw.

In an instant the glow of Twilight’s magic sputtered out, releasing Rainbow to bounce limply off a dresser and fight to suck in her breath. Twilight stumbled backwards, blinking in confusion as if she realized where she was for the first time.

“W-what?” she said. “What happened?”

Rainbow was already on her hooves, leaning against the wall as her chest heaved. She watched Twilight with wide eyes. “I… I need to stretch my wings,” she mumbled, before staggering out of the room.

Rarity approached Twilight, who had sat down heavily against the bed, and laid a hoof gingerly against her shoulder. “Are you quite alright, dear?”

Twilight looked up to her, tears already welling in her eyes. She broke down into ragged sobs, leaning into Rarity’s embrace. “I—I’m sorry! I don’t know what came over me, I just—it was so—”

The words fell apart into incoherent ramblings, and so Rarity simply ran a hoof through her stricken friend’s mane, making soft, comforting sounds into her ear like a mother comforting her foal. She looked plaintively to Pinkie and Fluttershy for assistance. Fluttershy kept a wary distance, but Pinkie bounced up to Twilight’s side as if she had already forgotten what had happened.

Together they held her until she could cry no more.

“We don’t have any time to waste, girls. I told you, I’m fine.”

The clearly skeptical looks of her friends sparked a flame of ire in Twilight’s mind. She shook her head, dislodging the irrational anger. They’re right to worry about me. I might have crippled Rainbow Dash—or worse.

Applejack’s concerned frown showed no more sign of fading than it had for the last hour. “I just don’t know, sugar cube. Y’all can’t go from faintin’ to screamin’ in yer sleep for three days to roughin’ up yer friends just like that and still say y’all’re right as an apple in a pie.”

“Applejack is right, dear,” Rarity said. “You know that you… overwork yourself, sometimes. A few days rest might do you well.”

Twilight’s horn lit as she grabbed an apple off the pile of fruit she’d assembled before herself and bit into it irritably. Unlike Fluttershy, she had woken from her sleep with the ravenous hunger and parched lips of three days without sustenance, and a great deal of her discipline at the moment was focused on not shoveling the food down her throat all at once. She and her friends were all seated at the mutual dining table in the shared suite that Mr. Rich had lent them, sparing only Rainbow Dash. The pegasus had bolted the instant Twilight had let her go, and there hadn’t been any sign of her last night. The empty seat stared her down like a shouted accusation of betrayal.

Twilight swallowed and took a deep breath, forcing herself to smile. “It was just the magic that I took in from Fluttershy working through my system. It’s all done with now, I promise. Really.” She hadn’t told them about the terrifying nightmare she’d been trapped in for those three days, or the alien sense of hatred that had overcome her when she’d woken up. She dared not let her friends know about either, lest they grow even more insistent in her resting. I need to get out there. I can’t fail Equestria any more than I already have.

Fluttershy had ducked lower in her seat at the mention of her name. Shy as she had been before, she was now practically mute even around her friends. Still, it was obvious that she blamed herself for what had happened.

Pinkie pulled Twilight into a sideways hug, shaking her gently. “C’mon, Twilight! It couldn’t hurt to laze around and relax for a couple days! Look, look—” She pulled out a scroll, holding it in front of Twilight. With a flick of her hoof it popped open, unrolling far further than it seemed it should have.

“What’s this, Pinkie?” Twilight frowned down at the foalish drawings and haphazard, multicolor scribblings. Pinkie was moving it around far too much for her to get any sense on what was written there.

“Plans for my ‘Congratulations on Breaking the Curse on Fluttershy and Then Eating It and Also Welcome Back Rainbow Dash’ party, duh!” Pinkie said. “Oh, and also for my ‘The-Party-Never-Stops First Party After the Apocalypse’ party, but that one has kind of become more of a sideshow now.”

Twilight couldn’t help but snort amusedly as Pinkie rolled the scroll up and stashed it in her mane. “Okay, how about a compromise? I still haven’t had time to draw up plans for our next expedition, and you all know how much stacks of paper, thick-bound historical tomes, and complex planning help me relax. Just… it will take me a few days to get everything organized. If there’s no other incidents by then, will you let me leave?”

“Sounds good to me!” Pinkie said, re-appearing in her chair. There was the sound of a party horn being blown from somewhere unseen, and confetti rained down on the table. “Just don’t be a frowny face when the party drops!”

Applejack kept her gaze fixed on Twilight. “I suppose I can’t fault y’all for wantin’ to get back into it. I sure as hay don’t like sittin’ on my rump when there’s a job that needs doin’. Just take care of yerself first Twilight, y’hear?”

Twilight nodded, her smile growing genuine. “Of course. I understand that you’re worried about me, and I appreciate it. I’m glad we could come to an agreement.”

Fluttershy let out a barely audible noise of assent. She had hardly been vocal in the debate in the first place, but Twilight still gave her a gracious smile. She turned to Rarity expectantly.

Rarity dipped her head. “As long as you know your own limits, darling. Heavens knows I’d like to avoid another incident. Has anypony seen Rainbow Dash, by the way?”

“She’ll be fine,” Applejack said. “That mare’s been through a lot, she probably just needs to zip around a bit, nap on a few clouds, and clear her mind. She’s been real cramped up lately. I’m sure she’ll be back later today.”

“I should hope so,” Rarity said. “I would like to bid her adieu when I leave for my trip.”

Twilight looked up from the neat little stack of apple cores she was arranging in front of her. “What trip?”

“Shucks, Twi,” Applejack said. “I reckon with all that’s been goin’ on we ain’t even had time to tell y’all yet.”

“It’s nothing major, darling.” Rarity waved a hoof and tossed her mane. “Pinkie and I were just going on a sojourn to Fellis. It’s another city, to the west of here.”

Twilight frowned. She chewed on a head of brocolli pensively. “When did that happen?”

“Just a few days ago, actually,” Rarity said. “A gentlecolt of my recent acquaintance invited me along with him.”

“His name is Whitehorn!” Pinkie added.

“Uh huh.” Twilight’s tail swished side-to-side beneath her seat.

“Somethin’ wrong, sugar cube?” Applejack asked, catching the motion with her eye.

Twilight sighed. “I just… I don’t like the idea of splitting up, is all.” The image of bodies floating in a sunken library flashed through her mind, and she tossed her mane to disguise the shiver that ran through her.

“We aren’t helpless foals, Twilight,” Rarity said. “I think I speak for all of us when I say that we’d rather not just sit about shining our hooves.” She paused, stretching an immaculately polished hoof out before her. “Well, at least not all day. You three might be suited to spelunking in dusty old ruins, but I’d rather do my part otherwise.”

“Yeah!” Pinkie added. Her smile grew strained, and her mane seemed to lose a little of its poof. “I’m not like a super-duper big fan of that, either.”

Twilight decided to ignore the incredibly incorrect use of the word ‘dusty,’ instead gesturing to the room around her. “Why can’t you do that here? Mr. Rich has given us these rooms, and bits. Isn’t that enough?”

“It’s not just about bits, dear,” Rarity said. “You have to know where to put them. Back in Ponyville I had connections with just about every business in town, but I’m an outsider here. Whitehorn is a generous soul, and he’s showing me how to make a difference here.” She smiled, leaning forwards to touch Twilight’s hoof. “We won’t be in any danger. We’ll be out in the middle of the city and with each other to keep us company. I’ve already talked with Mr. Rich about it, and he’s agreed to pass messages between us. It’ll be fine.”

Twilight closed her eyes, shaking the nightmare images out of her mind. “You’re right, Rarity. Even if you weren’t, it wouldn’t be right for me to try and hold you here. Just be careful, alright?”

“Of course, darling.”

“Okie dokie lokie!”

Applejack tilted her head, tapping a hoof to her chin. “What about y’all, Shy? Ya gonna stay here or what?”

Fluttershy flinched, ducking behind her mane. In a voice so quiet that Twilight had to lean forwards to hear her, she said, “I’ll stay with Rainbow Dash.”

“Well, I suppose that’s settled, then.” Rarity stood from her seat. “And with no time wasted, at that! There should be a boat arriving for Pinkie and I soon. We really must be going.”

Twilight blinked. “Already?”

“To be quite honest, dear, I was just about to call it off when you woke,” Rarity said. “It was quite a relief, once everypony calmed down.”

Pinkie had also left her seat, though Twilight hadn’t seen her do it. She bounced in place a few times, grinning. “Oh, I’m so excited I can barely wait! I hope everypony likes my Boarding Party! Seeya later, girls!” With that she zipped out of the room, leaving a small, confetti-laden draft in her wake.

Rarity giggled as she followed at a more measured pace. “Be sure to give my love to Rainbow when she returns. Tata, all! Don’t forget to write!”

There were certain perks to being a griffon.

A great many, actually, if Gava spent some time thinking on it. The rush of wind on your feathers, the taste of warm blood, the way that a pony would flinch when you flashed a talon and falter when you grinned—such were the everyday things that kept her going.

Today Gava had discovered another advantage: It was incredibly easy to gain access to Crazy Rich’s personal island estate. With her ship tied off on the mainland and Anatami watching the estate grounds from some hidden perch, Gava had simply walked up to the front door and knocked. She didn’t even need to supply a story. As soon as Rich heard that there was a rare griffon at his door he had rushed up to personally meet her.

Now they walked through the warmly lit halls of his subterranean homestead as he rambled on. She wasn’t truly listening, giving only the occasional acknowledgment as he led her to some lunch party or other like gathering. Her senses were instead intent on assessing the estate security for the much more thorough and secretive investigation that Ana planned to make later in the night. Gava had been surprised to find the estate entirely unguarded so far, a distinct departure from the constantly patrolled keeps of the baronlands she usually frequented. Perhaps there’s a barracks hidden somewhere deeper down.

They came out into an impressively wasteful open chamber at the intersection of several other halls. It was just as gilded as the rest of the manse, with faux windows that reflected sunlight channeled in from the surface and a fountain surrounding a statue of a unicorn with three bulging moneybags under his hoof. Gava couldn’t help but shake her head as she recognized the red liquid streaming out of the bags as wine. An actual wine fountain. What the hell.

Movement drew her eye, and she caught sight of a group of ponies entering from another hall. The trio at the rear of the group were dressed in the mismatched outfits of Crazy’s servants, each one struggling beneath bulging white-and-purple packs strapped all over their bodies. Ahead of them was an aggressively pink mare that was babbling something in an equally irritating voice and practically bouncing up and down with every step.

Gava came to a sudden stop as she recognized the pearlescent white unicorn in front. She had an overcomplicated curling mane—the sort that Gava usually associated with an excess of either time or money—and was wearing a bulbous violet and white lace dress bedazzled in multicolor gemstones. Well isn’t that just my luck?

“Oh! Is something wrong, my friend?” Mr. Rich asked, looking back. He had stopped a few steps ahead of her.

Gava dipped her head towards the approaching group. “Is that Countess Rarity?”

“Ah, you’ve heard of her, have you?” Rich asked, his voice laced with smug satisfaction. “How about a chat, then? Lady Rarity! What have you enchanted my poor servants into now?”

When Gava looked back, the pink pony seemed to have disappeared. Lady Rarity was already heading their way, a smile on her face. “Haven’t I told you, Crazy? I was leaving on my trip today,” she said.

For a brief moment Gava couldn’t help but frown, but she quickly recovered her mask of indifference. Leaving?

“Ah, was that today? Celestia, how time has flown since I took you in!” Rich said, taking the hoof that Lady Rarity extended. “Tell me, have you ever met a griffon before?” He gestured towards Gava as if presenting a gift, beaming. “Let me introduce you to Gava. One rarity meets another, as it were!”

Gava clacked her beak together. Most ponies didn’t recognize it as an expression of irritation. “Our numbers might have fallen, but we’re no weaker for it. I’ve heard much about you, Countess.”

Lady Rarity dipped her head cordially. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, darling.”

“Hi! I’m Pinkie Pie!”

Gava practically jumped out of her feathers, her talons scoring deep scratches in the wood paneling as they tightened. She looked to the side and suddenly found herself beak-to-muzzle with the pink one. “Wha—uh, hello? Who?”

“Pinkie Pie!” Pinkie repeated. She bounced over to Lady Rarity’s side, wearing a ridiculously goofy smile. “It’s nice to meet you!”

Gava ruffled her feathers. “I suppose you’re the Countess’ hoofmaiden?”

Rich chuckled, waving a hoof. “Actually, Miss Pie here is another of the Gifted that I rescued from the ruins of Old Canterlot!”

“Ah.” Gava offered the mare a curt nod. Things will be hard enough as is, even with them all in one place, and now they’re splitting up? She briefly considered pouncing right then and there, but promptly dismissed the idea. Normally she would be confident in her ability to quickly dispatch a half dozen soft-furred ponies, but the Gifted were still too unknown. Lady Rarity might even be able to defeat her alone, just by virtue of the powerful telekinesis and spellcasting abilities she was rumored to possess. As for Pinkie—well, it had been at least a decade since a pony had snuck up on her. She put on a false smile. “So, you’re going on a trip?”

“Indeed we are, darling!” Rarity said. “Pinkie and I are heading out on a friend’s yacht in just a couple hours.” She offered a quick curtsey. “As such, I’m afraid we haven’t the time to chat any longer. A pleasure to meet you, Gava! Adieu, Crazy!”

“See you later, guys!” Pinkie said, already bouncing along in Lady Rarity’s wake. “Be sure to look out for the party invitations!”

Gava followed them with her eyes as they stepped out of the room, the luggage-laden servants struggling along behind. She couldn’t help but swish her lion’s tail against the floor a few times as her mind raced. It was like watching a huge bag of bits walk away.

“What was that about a party?” she asked, still looking at the door they had left through.

“I’m not exactly sure,” Rich said. He started walking again, in practically the opposite direction. “Miss Pie is apparently renowned for throwing parties, though, so I’m sure it’ll be grand when she has it all ready! I’ll be sure to get an invitation your way if you’d like.”

Gava sighed, following behind him. She would have to hope that Ana handled the opportunity better. “That’s alright. I’m not much for parties.”

She put the encounter out of her mind for the next two hours as they joined up with a gaggle of minor officials and merchant emissaries. There was nothing she could do about it, so she instead focused on her original objective. Rich led the group around the halls like a colt leading along a flock of pigeons with bread crumbs, letting them stop only long enough to wonder in awe before he remembered some other room or trinket to show off. After nearly every statement it seemed he would ask Gava’s opinion, and she would come up with some trite comment to satisfy the crowd. All the while she was intent on constructing a mental map of the estate and searching for any further signs of the mysterious Gifted that had supposedly been pulled right from the ground.

Once she finally extracted herself from the group, she was forced to admit defeat with regards to her original purpose in visiting the estate. The servant that she eventually asked to lead her back to the front door kept glancing back fearfully as Gava quietly smoldered behind her. There may not have been any real security, but the sheer sprawl of the estate could hide a treasure as well as any labyrinth.

As soon as she felt the sun-warmed gravel of the outside paths undertalon, Gava took flight. The servant let out a choked cry as she was buffeted by the sudden gust of wind. Even through the anger in her mind, Gava managed a satisfied smirk.

She settled onto a thermal and let it carry her higher in lazy circles above the grounds. When Gava looked down she found the grounds empty. As expected, the servant had followed her instinctive urges to avoid giant birds of prey and headed back inside.

Gava spent a few minutes scanning the island from above, searching for Anatami. She should have revealed herself by now. With a grunt of annoyance she glided lower, eagle eyes flitting from tree to tree. Soon she found what she was looking for: a single, straight mark scratched into the trunk of a cedar.

Her wings fluttered rapidly as she landed among the branches. It took her only a moment to find Ana’s message, scratched into the wood where a ground bound walker couldn’t see it and where the leaves helped protect it from the notice of an unlikely flier passing above.

The message was written in and old and threadbare language that Gava’s father had taught them; more of a code than a real written word. It was designed for hunting, and so even with the additions that the duo had come up with there was often a certain open-mindedness required when using it.

Big prey passes, it said. Herd splits. I claim trophy myself. Feed clan first. Fortune guide your shadow.

You as well, sis, Gava thought. She couldn’t help but growl her frustration as she raked her talons over the wood, marring the code beyond recognition even to her. The chance of anyone who saw it being able to understand it was vanishingly slim, but it felt good to sink her claws into something either way.

Big prey passes. Ana had seen Lady Rarity and Pinkie and rightly identified them as targets. Herd splits. She must have shadowed them through the grounds and figured out that they were splitting off from the others. I claim trophy myself. Faced with the possibility of losing their trail and having to find them again, she had decided to stalk them herself. If an opportunity presented itself, she would pounce, but otherwise she would likely wait for the rest of the crew to catch up. Feed clan first. Ana didn’t want Gava to follow until she had caught the remaining four Gifted. The clan was the crew, and the more reliable bounty was to be focused on for now. Fortune guide your shadow. An old griffon farewell. Ana didn’t want her worrying.

Gava couldn’t object with the reasoning, even if she was leery of the complication. Ana would be sure to get a message out to her—she always found a way, somehow—but until then she was left with nobody to infiltrate the estate and no descriptions for the rest of the targets. With only Topgallant’s knack for picking up rumors to go off, all she knew was that they were somewhere under Rich’s protection.

She pumped her ire into her wings, quickly leaving the island behind and heading back for the mainland. She needed another plan, and she needed it before her prey began to scatter even more. Perhaps she could simply storm the estate with a bit of hired help. It would be easy enough to cover the island from her ship, capture Rich, and cut their whereabouts out of him. Or maybe she would arrange another meeting, bringing Drift Eye along, and coerce Rich into turning the Gifted over to him. The unicorn certainly didn’t seem the sort to suffer much pain for his toys, especially with how many he had. She might abduct a servant and twist their descriptions out of them. Knowing their appearances would be a great boon to the hunt.

She passed over a small island that seemed to house a minor manufacturing operation, and let out a shrill eagle cry. The sight of the ponies suddenly looking up in alarm or scrambling for cover did little to help her mood.

There was also Ana to worry about. The thestral had always liked to stalk her prey extensively before making a move, but Gava couldn’t help but be concerned. If the rumors were close to the truth, then Lady Rarity was powerful and dangerous game. She wanted to be back at Ana’s side as quickly as possible, even if the means would be a little sloppy.

A flash of color caught Gava’s eye, unusually vivid for the otherwise drab Heighton. She looked to her left, but all she saw of note was the rising column of smoke spawned from a factory on one of the lower islands. She watched for a few moments longer, and was rewarded with another stroke of color as a passing gale disturbed the smoke.

Gava drifted closer, curious. The smoke shifted again, and now she was certain. There was a glint of rainbow tucked away between the columns.

She didn’t know what any of the Gifted looked like, but she did know that they were unusual. Unusual like a tiny patch of rainbow color floating stationary above factory smokestacks. She reached into the satchel at her side, pulling out a pair of goggles and a thick leather bandana.

With her face protected, she climbed higher, took a deep breath, and dove into the smoke. To her surprise, there was a space of relatively clean air between the columns. She looked down as she hovered in the pocket of open air, and saw a cyan blue pegasus with a wild rainbow mane, curled up on a puffy white cloud as if it was a bed.

Gava cautiously flew lower, narrowing her eyes. What the hell is this? Even a Gifted would have trouble reaching this spot, as far away as it was from any of the neighboring islands. As if that wasn’t enough, the mare was lying on a cloud like it was solid, one wing folded and the other sloppily splayed out. Soon the mare’s cutie mark became distinct: a tri-color lightning bolt arcing out of a cloud. And just when I thought fortune had forsaken me.

This had to be one of her targets. Gava had heard legends of pegasi being able to shape the weather and stand on clouds, but even a Gifted pegasus could only dream of such feats. Not only that, but any Gifted with such a gaudy rainbow dyejob would have developed a reputation quickly. The fact that she had never heard of a pony with a rainbow mane only fed her suspicions.

Confident that she could outfly and outfight any pegasus, Gava brought herself to hover next to the cloud. She had never seen such a solid cloud, so she gave an experimental swipe of a talon through it. As expected, the cloud offered no resistance.

Let’s get this show started, then. Gava cleared her throat. “Hey, wake up.” The mare didn’t show any sign of hearing her through her obnoxious snoring, so Gava flicked her on the muzzle with her tail.

“Ow, hey!” The mare swatted at Gava’s tail with a hoof, opening her eyes to reveal fiery cerise eyes. “What do you want?”

Gava cocked her head. She wasn’t used to unfamiliar ponies regarding her with much beyond a wary respect. Now that she thought of it, Lady Rarity and Pinkie had hardly seemed cautious of her either. She pointed a talon at the mare’s mane. “I just saw that crazy dyejob of yours and had to take a closer look.”

“Excuse me?” The mare straightened up, wings flaring. She jabbed a hoof at her head. “This is all natural, thank you.”

Gava pretended not to hear her, leaning in closer. “By the winds, who the hell did that? Those lines look so natural.”

“Back off, chump!” the mare said, shoving her away with a hoof. “I’m really not in the mood for this, alright?”

Gava chuckled, carefully bottling up the surge of fury at the shove. She would use that later. “Sorry, I’ve just never seen a pony with a mane like that before. And Gifted, at that. I’m surprised I haven’t heard of you.”

The mare snorted. “That’ll change soon enough, trust me. The names Rainbow Dash, and I’m the fastest flier in Equestria!”

Gava grinned. “I’m Gava, and I know all the good fliers around here.” She prodded Rainbow’s chest with a talon. “So why haven’t I heard of you then, huh?”

Rainbow snarled, batting the claw away. “Because I’ve been missing for bucking centuries, I don’t know! I don’t even feel like racing, just leave me alone!”

“Centuries?” Gava asked innocently. Just a bit more proof, first. “Are you one of those frauds that Rich says he dug up from some puddle or something?”

“It’s real!” Rainbow snarled. “Just about everypony I ever knew is dead, and one of my best friends nearly killed me! Now leave me alone!”

Yes, I think that’s more than good enough. “How about no?”

She lunged, barreling headfirst into Rainbow’s chest and locking her talons together behind her back.

Rainbow let out a strangled “Urk!” as she was pulled off of the cloud, her wings beating wildly in an attempt to escape. It was a valiant effort, and there were a few seconds where the two fliers hung in the air uncertainly. Then Gava reached out with her larger wings, pinning Rainbow’s to her sides, and they began to fall.

“Agh, get off!” Rainbow yelled. “We’re gonna crash!”

Gava’s beak stretched into a predatory grin as the wind began to pick up in her ears. Hooves beat against her back, but her prey wasn’t able to get the leverage for any kind of significant blow. She could just make out the dark shape of the smokestacks rapidly approaching from below. Just as they were about to burst through the smoke cloud below, Gava spread her wings wide and let go.

She grunted as her wings caught the air, transforming the fall into a carefully controlled dive. She came out of the smoke a couple dozen feet above the roof of the factory, pulling up into a wide curve above the rooftop.

Rainbow wasn’t as lucky. Confused and off-balance, she was just barely able to get the air under her wings and turn what would have been a painful fall into a stumbling, rolling crash landing on the hard surface of the factory roof. She yelped as she struck, tumbling head-over-hooves into a smokestack with a strangled grunt.

Gava was on her before she had any chance of recovering, landing on her side and driving the breath from her lungs. In an instant she had all six of Rainbow’s limbs under control, pinning the pegasus beneath her.

“What—what the hay!” Rainbow’s nostrils flared as she looked up at Gava with one eye. “What are you doing?”

Gava ignored the question, reaching into her satchel with her beak and pulling out a length of rope. It wasn’t quite as thick as she would like for transporting prisoners, but it would have to do until she got back to the ship.

“Hey! Answer me!”

Gava carefully wrapped the rope around Rainbow’s hooves, tying first her forelegs together and then her hindlegs. Lastly, she tied a third loop between the two, taut enough that Rainbow wouldn’t be able to move any of her legs.

“I’m talking to you, chump! Get your filthy talons off of me, you—”

Gava took in a deep breath, letting out a screeching eagle cry straight into Rainbow’s face.

Rainbow’s complaints cut off abruptly, her eyes shutting tight and her ears going flat against her head. She remained silent, no doubt trying to stop the ringing in her ears. Gava wrapped another length of rope around the base of the pegasus’ wings, securing the rest around her own chest and tying it snug. She then sat down on top of Rainbow, waiting for her to recover from the piercing shriek.

After a couple moments, the fiery cerise eye had locked back onto her. “Who the hay are you? What do you want?”

“I already told you who I am,” Gava said, cocking her head as if she didn’t understand the question. “I’m Gava, remember?”

Rainbow began to struggle against her bonds, though to no avail. “Let me go!”

Gava chuckled. “Well, since you asked so nicely I suppose I have to, huh? Oh, wait—no I don’t.”

Rainbow just glared at her as she continued to pull at the ropes around her hooves.

“Here’s what we’re doing, okay?” Gava tapped a single razor-sharp talon against Rainbow’s cheek, making sure she noticed the deadly point. “I want to take you back to my ship, but it’s tied off on the mainland. So we have to fly. I’m not going to tie your wings up and make myself have to carry your plush pony flank all the way there, but get this.” She pointed to the rope tied between the two of them. “I’m a stronger flier than you. If you get too annoying then I’ll make sure you regret it when we arrive, but if you cooperate then maybe I’ll even leave your wings unbound once we arrive. Okay?”

Rainbow smirked up at her. “Was that a challenge?”

Gava rolled her eyes, standing up off of the mare. “Look, you can take it however you want. Just remember you’re only making things harder on yourself. Now let’s go.”

She didn’t bother to wait for a response, instead opening her wings and taking off. Predictably enough, Rainbow remained on the ground, glaring up at her.

Gava sighed. Guess we’ll do it the hard way, then. She made for the edge of the roof, simply dragging Rainbow along instead of trying to gain any altitude. She had transported plenty of pegasi this way before, so she knew how to tie a rope around their wings so as to make hanging freely not only extremely uncomfortable, but even excruciatingly painful if it went on too long. Rainbow let out a few choked grunts as she fell off the rooftop, the rope going tight around the space where her wings met her barrel. If she didn’t flap, then the force on her wings would be liable to gradually pull them out of their joints until they became little more than feathery pieces of flesh hanging loosely on her sides.

As expected, she gave in after just a few stubborn seconds. She continued to glare at Gava as she worked her wings, carrying her own weight.

Gava smiled at her. “Was that so hard?”

“You’re really pushing it, y’know that?” Rainbow growled back.

Gava couldn’t help but chuckle as she led the pegasus away from the island and out towards clear skies. “Yeah? What’re you gonna do about it, dyejob?”

“It’s not a dyejob!”

“Yeah, sure it—urk!” Gava grunted as the rope tied around her chest went taut, tugging against her with surprising force. She turned to look back at Rainbow, who was flapping energetically away from her in an attempt to escape. “Stop that!”

“No!”

Gava flapped harder, equalizing the force until the two of them came to a stop in the air, each pulling against the other. “Just give it up, dyejob!”

Rainbow let out a guttural scream. “It’s not a dyejob!” She began to fly circles around her, still tugging on the rope.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Gava asked, turning in place to avoid getting tangled in the rope. “You gonna try and make me dizzy or something?”

She didn’t answer, only flying faster and faster, her tail seeming to stretch out behind her in a rainbow blur.

For the first time, Gava began to think that maybe she shouldn’t have left Rainbow’s wings unbound. “Stop that!” She lashed out with her talons, hoping to cripple a wing, but the pegasus seemed to effortlessly dance just out of her reach. Still she flew in circles, the vortex left in her wake starting to tug at Gava’s feathers.

“I’m warning you!” She lunged out again, and again her talons sliced through empty air. The vortex was growing beyond what Gava thought possible from mere flight. The air seemed to be shifting around her, flocking to Rainbow’s wings and spawning powerful winds. Gava was beginning to have trouble keeping steady.

The wind had grown into an actual tornado, surrounding Gava and pulling her into its walls with more and more force. Rainbow continued to fly within the tornado, as if guiding it with her body. Gava couldn’t hold out for long, and within a few seconds one of her wings buckled under the force. She screeched as she was sucked into the cyclone, the impossible winds buffeting at her body and tossing her about like a toy. In the midst of it all she was vaguely aware of the rope tied around her snapping, but she was too busy trying to pull out of her wild spin to care.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before the unnatural winds began to finally fall apart, and Gava was able to angle her wings to tear herself free of it. She was ejected at speed, but with the strong winds gone she was quickly able to recover her equilibrium.

She looked around, breathing hard. Despite all the open air that had been around them, Rainbow Dash was nowhere to be seen. Somehow she had already made it all the way to an island and hidden from sight. It couldn’t have been half a minute since Gava got stuck in the twister.

Hot fucks, that mare is fast.

Gava wasn’t sure whether to be impressed, excited, or angry. In the end she settled for an apathetic mixture, turning to head back for the mainland where her ship was tied up. Those Gifted would be on alert now. They knew that somebody was coming for them.

She didn’t have any time to waste.

Author's Note

Will Twilight ever be able to trust herself again? Will Pinkie's Boarding Party go off without a hitch? Is Gava now hooked on swing? Find out next time on Empty Horizons!

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X: The Eye

“I don’t get why we’re running away.”

Twilight tore her gaze away from the window, looking back to where Rainbow was flying an agitated back-and-forth across the repurposed cargo hold. “Didn’t you run away?”

Rainbow came to a sudden stop, glaring at Twilight. Her tail flicked like a whip, making an audible crack that echoed across the bare room. “That was different, Twilight!” she snapped. “That chump just took me by surprise, and I thought it was more important to warn my friends than to show some griffon who’s boss!”

Twilight sighed, looking back to the cloudy sky in the window. She’d known that the words would get a rise out of the cocksure pegasus, and still she said it. What had gotten into her? It wasn’t even a good argument. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

In the window, Twilight saw Rainbow’s reflection cock her head, a confused frown flashing across her face at the easy admission of fault. There were a few seconds where the only sound was the constant ticking of the Argo.

The sound of Rainbow’s hooves against the metal floor grew gradually closer as she came up to Twilight’s side. “Well… I still think we should’ve just stayed at the estate.”

Twilight shook her head, scanning the cloud-ridden horizon once more. “It isn’t safe there. You heard what Sea Sabre said.” There had been a storm gathering for the past few hours now, and there had been a creeping paranoia stalking her mind ever since. How close could a ship get to them in this weather before it was seen? Two miles? One? Was there a ship full of bloodthirsty mercenaries above them even now, sharpening their blades in preparation for the killing blow?

“Pfft. Whatever.” Rainbow lapsed into a sulky silence, her wings twitching. A light gust of wind toyed with Twilight’s mane as Rainbow flapped her wings, flying a lazy loop back to land on the sleeping bag and crates they had cobbled into a makeshift couch.

It must have been the dozenth time that the two had revisited the subject, and it ended just like every other before it. Twilight knew that Rainbow kept up her stubborn insistence more out of a desire to act than anything else, but the decision had been made long ago. It was safer to run. Gava was too dangerous. Sea Sabre said so.

Everything had happened so fast. Twilight and Applejack had been discussing their next move with Sea Sabre. They had all been worried about Rainbow’s running off, but they knew that they’d never find her if she didn’t want them to, and had accepted that she would return once she was ready. What they hadn’t expected was for her to burst into the room covered in shallow scratches and trailing bundles of knotted rope, shouting about being assaulted by a griffon.

Sea Sabre had been quick to ask for her assailant’s name. Twilight still had to suppress a shiver when she thought of the sudden alarm that had flashed across Sabre’s normally stern face when Rainbow gave her answer. Gava. A relentless bounty hunter and a fearsome killer, according to Sabre. Somehow she had heard of them, found them, and—for whatever reason—made them her target.

“Now why would she do that?” Applejack had asked. “We ain’t done a thing to nopony since we got here.”

“Because you’re valuable,” Sea Sabre had said. “Even if the world at large doesn’t know about you yet, there’s plenty of power players that would pay top bit for ponies like you. You’re the most powerful Gifted in recorded history by a far margin. I don’t know if Gava has a private contract or if she’s just moving in advance, but it doesn’t matter either way. If she knows where you are, then you aren’t safe.”

“She’s not that tough!” Rainbow had said, puffing out her chest. “I beat her all on my own.”

“You escaped,” Sabre corrected. “She still caught you, but she didn’t expect you to be such a strong flier. She’ll be back, and I can’t know for sure what she’ll try. She might sneak inside with her crew and abduct you all in your sleep, or she might pull favors and bust down the front door with a few dozen mercenaries. Heighton isn’t safe anymore.”

“Can’t we just alert the guards or somethin’?” Applejack had asked.

“She’ll bribe them,” Sabre had said. “Or kill them, it doesn’t matter. They won’t be willing to die for you, and she’ll take you away to another island, outside of Heighton’s reach. Trust me. We need to move. Now.”

That had been just over two days ago. They hadn’t seen any sign of another ship since leaving Heighton, and still Twilight looked out every window she passed searching for the telltale sign of the bounty hunter’s ship gaining on them. It was a nerve-wracking experience, made all the worse by the nightmares of rending flesh and bloodied teeth that plagued her sleep.

“I’m going to go check on our flight,” Twilight said, turning away from the window.

“Again?” Rainbow asked. She’d resumed her airborne pacing. “Nothing will have changed in an hour, y’know.”

“I just want to quintuple-check the course I plotted,” Twilight said. She ignored Rainbow’s exaggerated eye roll, crossing the breadth of the hold and stopping before the door.

Steam hissed above her as the heavy metal slid out of the way, and she stepped into the hall. Once the immediate threat of being shackled and sold had been dealt with, Twilight and her friends had discussed their next move. In practice, it was mostly Rainbow Dash supporting every perceived step forwards suggested while Applejack admitted that she didn’t know enough to make a good decision and Fluttershy stood in a corner quietly whimpering. It hadn’t taken more than half an hour for them to agree with Twilight. From what Crazy Rich had told them before they left, Gava had known that Rarity and Pinkie were leaving, but didn’t know their destination. They didn’t want to risk leading Gava straight to their friends; following them wasn’t an option for now, but a letter could be sent later on. Meanwhile, their only lead on the corruption was Princess Luna’s expedition into the Everfree that the research group’s notes had mentioned. There was nothing to do but follow it. They would decide what to do then based on what they found.

They would dive into the Everfree.

“Rarity! Wakey-wakey, sleepyhead!”

Rarity’s ears flicked as her door shook. She raised her head blearily and rubbed a hoof at her eyes. “Do you need something, darling?” A massive yawn escaped her as she squinted at the source of the pounding.

“It’s morning, silly filly!” Pinkie’s squeaky voice was thankfully muffled by the thick wood of the door. “Time to get up!”

“Morning?” Rarity mumbled. That couldn’t be right. A weak glow came off her horn as she turned to the window and pulled the heavy curtain aside. Pale dawn sunlight streamed into the room, coloring the jumbled scribblings and sketches scattered about in the cold light of morning. “Hrm. So it is…”

“Can I come in?” There were a few more heavy thumps that Rarity took to be Pinkie banging her head against the door. “Do you need to make yourself proper?”

Rarity had a vague feeling that she was being mocked, but couldn’t muster the energy for any kind of counter. “I’m fine, dear. Come in.”

The seamstress suppressed another yawn as Pinkie pushed through the door. “Wowee!” she said, eyes widening. “What happened here? Did you have some kind of crazerterrific party and not invite me?”

“Well…” Rarity took a hesitant survey of her room, her lips stretching into a pained grimace. Strips of fabric and discarded sheets of crumpled paper littered every corner like toys in a foal’s playroom. A pair of half-dressed ponequins were tangled up next to the window, and the bed had been stripped bare, its sheets arranged into a makeshift tent. The one relatively clear space was the very center of her desk, where several crisp design sheets were stacked next to a pair of empty inkwells and a broken quill.

She let out a content sigh as she flipped through the papers. “It was a busy night.”

“Oh! Oh! Did you draw something? What is it?” Pinkie asked, leaning over Rarity’s shoulder. “Let me guess! Seapony! Balloon animal! Dance rout—”

Rarity slapped a hoof over the other mare’s muzzle. “Patterns, darling. For the tents.”

“Oh. That makes more sense.” Pinkie giggled, stepping back. “Ready for breakfast? I baked it myself!”

Baked? Rarity grimaced, suppressing a groan. “Certainly, dear. I’ll just—” She yawned, sorting the finished designs into a folder with her magic. “I’ll be right there.”

“Okey dokey lokey! Don’t take too super long or there won’t be any cupcakes left!” Pinkie zipped out of the room in a pink blur, the assorted clutter of the room briefly twisting in her wake.

Another yawn. Rarity just barely remembered the triumph of finally finishing her work last night. How long had she been sleeping there? She stole a quick glance to the open door before surreptitiously wiping up a sizable puddle of drool. A lady does not drool.

Closing the door with her magic, she picked herself up and walked to the attached restroom. She let out a little whimper as she looked in the mirror, taking in the frazzled hair and baggy eyes. Not wanting to tarry too long, she allowed herself only thirty minutes to fix her coiffure and apply some choice makeup. Another ten were spent browsing the swiftly growing collection of clothes she had been assembling ever since acquiring the needed tools and fabrics from Mr. Rich. She picked out a relatively simple, short-hemmed white dress with blue highlights that matched her eyes. It wasn’t too fancy, but it was fit for a Lady of her stature.

Finished, Rarity pouted at her reflection. Her exhaustion was still readily apparent despite her efforts. “Mm, it will have to do.”

Slipping her night’s work into a satchel and slinging it over her neck, she made for yacht’s dining room.

The Sip of Ambrosia was a sleek ship, with a two-story hull twice the length of the Argo suspended between a pair of propellers. Unlike the loud, steam-ridden halls of the salvage ship, the interior of the Ambrosia was designed with a much cleaner presentation in mind. Thick carpets and simple paintings took the place of open vents and gauges, the doors opened with no burst of steam or other such fuss, and a quiet orchestral piece could always be heard in public spaces, carried on a network of polished brass.

Rarity looked out a long window lining the hall as she walked, taking in the view of Fellis Island below. It was larger than the Heighton mainland—although completely lacking in any of the smaller trailing islands that made up much of the other city—and far less developed in comparison. Whereas just about every inch of Heighton was paved over and built upon, Fellis had a far rougher terrain that had made it difficult for the same type of all-consuming architecture to develop. The northern edge of the island had little worse than a few rolling hills, but as one went further south the hills grew gradually steeper and rockier, and the southernmost part of the island rightfully deserved to be called a mountain. The land there leaned out over the base of the island like a teetering drunk, the bottom surface plagued with sharp outcroppings and hanging stalactites as if it was just half of a mountain ripped away from the earth, leaving its twin drowning somewhere beneath the ocean waves.

The Ambrosia was moored to a small tower near the central part of the island. The buildings there mostly squatted on hilltops, with series of rickety wooden hoofbridges and wide stone archways connecting neighboring peaks. Narrow rivers ran from south to north in the leftover valleys, converging into a trio of waterfalls that trailed from the island’s northern edge.

Rarity couldn’t help but grimace as her eyes traced the shores of said rivers. According to Whitehorn, they were normally left largely uninhabited. A recent set of unprecedented natural disasters, however, had displaced entire islands worth of ponies. As of yet it was only small islands or sparsely populated baronlands that had been effected, but the surplus of land on Fellis had made it the ultimate destination for most of the refugees. A veritable city of tents had sprouted up its rocky valleys during the past decade, creating an equinitarian disaster that had gone almost entirely unnoticed by Equestria at large.

But that, of course, was why Whitehorn had planned the trip, and why Rarity had elected to come along.

She resisted the sudden urge of yet another yawn as she arrived in the dining room. The long table was by that time mostly clean of ponies and dishes alike, with only Whitehorn and Pinkie Pie remaining. The unicorn was busily reading over a trio of broadsheets spread out on the table before him, while Pinkie was obliviously chatting away besides him.

“—and then I screamed ‘boarding party, woohoo!’ and everypony else screamed too, but I think they might have misunderstood me because they all started to run away when I reached for my party cannon, except for those big guys that ran towards me, but they didn’t look very nice at all and—”

Whitehorn looked up as Rarity entered, the pensive expression on his face splitting into a broad smile. “Aha, Lady Rarity! I was wondering when you would join us. And looking divine as ever, no less!”

Rarity waved the comment away with a hoof. “Please, darling. There’s no need for any of that anymore.”

“Nonsense!” Whitehorn said, leaning back. “I’ve always believed in speaking what thoughts wander into my mind, whether anypony around likes the sound or not.”

Rarity could feel her cheeks warming. She made herself busy looking over the few plates left on the table. Cupcakes, french toast, cinnamon rolls, and muffins. Hrm. “Have you two been waiting for me all this time?” She levitated a muffin onto her plate, walking to take a seat besides Pinkie. “I do hope I haven’t been holding you up.”

“I don’t think you could if you tried, my Lady,” Whitehorn said. “Your and Miss Pie’s contributions outweigh what a hundred stallions might do together. If all it costs me is a few extra minutes lingering after breakfast then—well, I’d be glad to pay that price.”

Rarity couldn’t help but break out into a sunny smile as she sat down. “It’s good to know that we’re appreciated.” She took a bite of her muffin. Mmm, pancake flavor!

“Did you know that they’ve started calling you Auntie Rarity?” Whitehorn said, looking back down to his broadsheets. “The refugees, I mean.”

Rarity nearly choked, her eyes bulging in a brief struggle to swallow. “I’m sorry? Wherever did they get that idea?”

“Me! Me!” Pinkie said, waving a hoof in the air. “They call me Auntie Pinkie, too!”

“Ah. Of course.” I suppose that should have been obvious. “Whitehorn, dear, what are the broadsheets saying today?”

“Nothing good,” the other unicorn said. He pushed them across the table in a neat stack. “We’ll be hit by another surge soon.”

Rarity frowned around her muffin, levitating the papers up to her eyes. The bold, brash title of the center article grabbed her eye with all the tact of a mugger in an alley: THOUSANDS DEAD AS CALAMITY STRIKES MAREWICK.

She took a deep breath before reading on. An urgent S.O.S. from the island of Marewick was received just after noon yesterday at the thaumagram station operated by Fellis Island’s own Mister Lay Drifts. Rarity failed to suppress a disdainful curl of her lip at the name. Mister Drifts held communication with the island for roughly two hours as the Marewick operator described their island suddenly falling from the sky and into the ocean. An unknown number of airships escaped the island with survivors, but the remaining population of the island—which was home to over five thousand ponies—is believed to have perished completely with the sudden attack of ocean-dwelling monsters…

The article went on to describe an interview with Lay Drifts, but Rarity felt no need to read on. A hard lump had lodged itself in her throat by the time she looked up from the broadsheet. “That’s terrible.”

Whitehorn nodded, face grim. “They’re speeding up, did you know? The falls, I mean.”

Pinkie Pie—who had sat down and started poking at a cupcake while Rarity was reading—shot up out of her chair. “I’m gonna... take care of the dishes,” she said, scooping up the remaining plates with a few quick sweeps and balancing them on her back. Her mane seemed to have lost some of its lustre. “I’ll, uh—be back soon,” she said, and disappeared through the kitchen door.

Rarity gave a slow shake of her head, looking out the dining room’s gold-trim window at the swamp of refugees clogging Fellis’s streams. “It’s hard to believe. I never even heard of these catastrophes all while I was in Heighton.”

Whitehorn let out a noise somewhere between a derisive snort and a dark chuckle. “That’s just the thing, Lady Rarity. Hard to believe. You might be surprised at just how much a pony will ignore to preserve the illusion of safety. It started out as just tiny little islands on the edge of the map falling with a decade between them, you know. Queer little oddities—to be wondered at over the dinner table by those in the know and forgotten by the morning. Things have changed now, but Equestria is slow to follow.”

He gestured a hoof at the window. “Coltver fell eight months ago, and still the waterways here overflow with aimless bodies. Now Marewick has fallen. That’s two populated islands less than a year apart—sunk to the ocean floor! Thousands drowned with them, and no doubt even now there’s at least another hundred ponies coming to join the refugee camps here! And yet nothing is done!” He had stood up while he spoke, rising alongside his voice, and stepped over to the window.

“That’s not entirely true,” Rarity said. “We’re here, aren’t we? These ponies aren’t entirely on their own.”

Whitehorn heaved a sigh, nodding. “Yes, Lady Rarity. We’re here. You and Pinkie and dozens of volunteers and donors have helped with those struck by these calamities, but to what end? The islands still fall, and it seems nopony has a care to discover why.” He turned his head, looking at her with one tired eye. “Sometimes I fear Equestria won’t wake up until ten thousand ponies are falling into the sea every week, and by then it will be too late.”

“Isn’t that why you came here, darling?” Rarity asked, standing to walk to his side. She put a gentle hoof on his shoulder, smiling. “You’re a writer, after all, and one with the connections to get the word out. There’s no sense in fretting over what issues we can’t solve, but we can all still do our part. Just keep your mind on your writing, and I’m certain Equestria will come around.”

Whitehorn met her eyes, his frown curling up into a small smile. “I suppose you’re right. I don’t know what I’m doing preaching to you when it’s the rest of the world that needs it.” He lifted a hoof to take hers, giving it a small squeeze. “Thank you, my Lady. Or shall I start calling you Auntie?”

“Oh, heavens no!” Rarity feigned disgust, tossing her mane and looking away to disguise her blush. “I might be a few hundred years old, but I should hope it isn’t starting to show so plainly already!”

The two of them shared a laugh, his deeper voice harmonizing with her higher-pitched giggle. They spent a few minutes in silence simply looking out onto the island below.

Whitehorn was the first to speak. “Well, I believe breakfast can be considered officially over. We had a busy day ahead of us as is, and the Marewick survivors will be here in a few days. We should get to work.”

Rarity dipped her head in agreement. “I couldn’t agree more, Whitehorn. Did I tell you what I did last night? I roughed out a tent design that saves a third of the fabric, and is even a little warmer at the same time! I think my fellow seamstresses will be quite grateful when they see it…”

Twilight took some small solace in the relaxing ticks and hums of the ship as she and Fluttershy paced through the halls. Surprisingly enough, knowledge of the Everfree Forest seemed to have lapsed altogether since their own time. Sea Sabre had listened carefully to the description she and her friends gave of the dark forest, and then declared that they weren’t ready for any dive at all, let alone one into the most dangerous land in Old Equestria. Stocks still needed replenishing, the submarine’s interior still needed a few repairs, and then there was the issue of the lack of dive suits. They had made orders for custom suits to be delivered to the Rich Estate, but those wouldn’t be due for another two weeks at least, and Twilight was unwilling to make random flights around the sky to evade their new hunter while they waited.

With Heighton no longer safe, Sea Sabre and Sunfeather had put their heads together and presented Twilight with a brief detour. The city of Leviathan Wakes was passing nearby on its way to the Highfrog Islands, and would serve more than capable of preparing the ship and crew for a dangerous dive. Twilight had asked what exactly was meant about a city “passing by,” only for Star Trails to butt in and exclaim—with an infuriating smirk—that it was a surprise. Irritably enough, the rest of the crew seemed to have agreed with her, and so Twilight was left hanging on the matter. She could only assume that, as flying islands, the cities of the new Equestria were capable of some limited movement. She hadn’t seen any such indication so far with Heighton, but maybe she just hadn’t been paying attention.

They had to be nearly there now. Twilight had taken an opportunity to join Star Trails in reviewing the ship’s charts, and they were certain to arrive before sunset with at least an hour to spare. She’d kept her eyes on the horizon all day—whether she was searching for floating islands or griffon airships, she wasn’t sure—but it had remained empty. It was just passing midday now, though, so it couldn’t be long.

A sudden metallic clang startled her out of her thoughts. She looked around to find herself standing next to one of the hatches that led out to the submarine harness, with Fluttershy pushed up against her side and shaking like a leaf. A few smaller bangs rang out in quick succession as the hatch’s wheel spun unlocked, and it swung open to admit a giddy Rainbow Dash.

“Twilight! Fluttershy! Guess what?” She had to shout to be heard over the sound of the wind rushing past the door. “I just saw Leviathan Wakes! You guys are gonna flip when you see it, trust me. It’s way radical-er than Heighton!”

A brief battle played out in Twilight’s mind, and grammatical accuracy won out over adventurous curiosity. “That’s not a word!” she shouted back. Her horn lit up as she shut the hatch and spun the lock.

“Yeah, whatever.” Rainbow Dash waved a hoof like she was swatting an irritating, grammatically correct fly out of the air. “Hey, do either of you—Woah, Twilight. You alright?”

Twilight flicked her tail, looking up at Rainbow defiantly. She hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, and had been hoping nopony would notice. “I’m fine. Were you going to ask me something?”

Rainbow cocked her head, watching Twilight with narrowed eyes for a few seconds. “Well, if you say so… do either of you two know where AJ is?”

Fluttershy glanced up from the floor for a brief instant. Twilight raised a hoof to tap at her chin a few moments. “She should be with Dusty Tome. He wanted to know about life in the old Equestria and, well—y’know how she can be with her stories.”

Rainbow snickered into a hoof. “Sure as hay I do! I’m gonna go get her and give her the good news. Meet us at the bridge!”

She zipped off with a flap of her wings, tossing the other mares’ manes with the ensuing gust of wind. Twilight watched her go, and only as the pegasus turned the corner did she realize that she still had no idea what Leviathan Wakes looked like. “Hey, wait! Rainbow!” She groaned, slapping herself in the head. “Stupid, stupid. Get your head in gear, Twilight.”

With a sigh, she forced a smile and looked over to where Fluttershy had taken cover from her outburst behind a nearby bulkhead. “Shall we head to the bridge, then?”

Fluttershy let out a shrill little squeal that could have just as easily been a mouse’s distress call as it could words.

Twilight’s smile grew hollow, and she faced ahead to hide her tired eyes. “Right, let’s go!” she said with all the optimism she could muster.

She led the way down the hall, confident that Fluttershy would follow. The quiet mare had stuck to her friends like a duckling to its mother ever since leaving the Rich Estate, communicating entirely in mumbles, squeaks, and shakes of the head. Twilight was starting to wonder if maybe there was something wrong with her besides just her usual shyness. Had she been plagued by the same nightmares as Twilight before the hibernation spell was broken? She had seemed so peaceful, and yet—Then again, it’s not an entirely unusual reaction for her after waking up centuries past the end of the world.

Twilight gave herself a mental shake as they climbed the stairs to the ship’s higher level. Come on, Twilight. Where’s your scientific wonder? Rainbow seemed excited about the city. Let’s see what the big surprise is.

By the time the two mares had reached the closed door to the bridge, Twilight had successfully mustered her excitement in anticipation. She stepped through the steamy haze of the opening door without flinching, and nearly walked right into Flintlock.

The big stallion raised a brow as he looked down at them. “Well, that was quicker’n I expected. Yer wanted on the bridge, little mares.”

“Thank you,” Twilight said. She slipped past him—Fluttershy following close behind—and looked eagerly to the viewing glass. “I heard we were almost there?”

Star Trails looked up from where she was sitting next to her charts. “What? Where’d you hear that?”

“I told her!” Rainbow said, briefly folding her wings to fit through the cluttered doorway. “I was flying ahead and saw it!”

Flint yelped in alarm at the sudden rainbow blur, ducking down. His nostrils flared as Applejack trotted up the hall. “Why did I even bother goin’ t’get ye lot?” he growled.

“Howdy there, Flint,” Applejack said. She chuckled. “Y’all mind if I get through?”

Flint rolled his eyes, stepping out of the way. “Be my guest, cowfilly.”

Twilight had by then pushed past the traffic jam and was already standing up on the tips of her hooves next to Sunfeather’s control dais. “Where is it? I don’t see it anywhere.”

Trails groaned in frustration, leering at the hovering Rainbow Dash. “Why’d you have to go and get her? I had the timing down perfect, and you screwed it up. Minutes of planning—down the drain!”

Rainbow snorted. “Keep your horn on, Trails. I didn’t spoil the surprise or anything.”

The room settled into a comfortable buzz as the newly arrived ponies spread out along the back to wait for their destination’s appearance. Twilight ignored the quiet conversation, keeping her eyes trained ahead.

After a few minutes, she risked a glance towards Sunfeather. “How much longer?”

Sunfeather didn’t bother to look away from her controls. “We’re just about ten miles away.” After another minute she added, “I think you’ll like this city.”

“Really?” Twilight cocked her head, surprised to hear the surly pilot make conversation for the first time. “Why?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

“Oh. Uh… okay.” Twilight returned her gaze forwards, feeling somewhat like an awkward filly pestering her sitter with questions. If it’s just ten miles away, shouldn’t we be able to see it by now? She knew the horizon kept ponies from seeing much more than seven miles, but tall objects like mountains or—say—floating islands were visible from further away.

At last the first buildings came into view, their faces darkened by the afternoon sun behind them. Gradually they drifted closer, rising up until their bases were visible, and then further up as the island—

Twilight frowned. The buildings had stopped rising as they approached. They were getting closer, but remained at sea level.

Her eyes widened. They’re boats.

She stole a glance towards Sunfeather, and saw that the old mare was actually wearing a satisfied little smirk. With a shake of her head Twilight returned her gaze to the oceanborne city burgeoning before them.

Leviathan Wakes was the very definition of urban sprawl. Hundreds of seafaring vessels were clustered together, bobbing softly on the waves with only rope, chain, and bridge to keep any piece from drifting away. And no doubt any that did break off would be gone forever, Twilight noted, as most of them seemed to lack any means of propulsion at all. The city was more raft than boat—even the larger, sturdier parts resembled squat buildings that had been ripped from the land and dropped into the water, the waves lapping at their long-stained ‘ground’ floors.

At the leading edge of it all was a single huge wooden construct, its star-shaped walls guarded by stern-faced carvings and engraved with flowing gold-and-silver filigree. The extravagant decoration set it apart from its neighbors just as much as its sheer size. Long flagpoles spurred out from each of the star’s six points, each sporting a different emblem, and the roof of each limb was painted with colors matching the emblem of its flag.

There were only a few other buildings of such size and solidity; the great majority of the city was little more than a complex patchwork of platforms, floating shanties, and occasionally the bare hull of a ship. Still, Twilight didn’t see any means by which the city might move. Was the whole city at the mercy of the ocean currents? And isn’t the ocean home to monsters that eat ponies? How could so many live there in such a ramshackle place? There didn’t seem to be any sort of defenses set up that might drive back such an attack.

She looked away with the question in her eyes, first to Sunfeather—who was keeping her gaze firmly forwards—and then to the grinning Star Trails.

“Go on,” Trails said. “I know you want to ask.”

Twilight narrowed her eyes, her ears flicking back ever so slightly. She didn’t like being led on like this. It reminded her of secondary school. How many needless hoops had she willingly jumped through in her life, all to feed her thirst for knowledge? Her nostrils flared, and in her mind’s eye she saw herself grabbing Trails by the horn and smashing that cheeky grin into the floor until it—

Twilight blinked, her mind going blank. What?

Applejack was watching her, lips quirked with concern. “Y’alright, sugar cube?”

“And are you gonna ask the question?” Trails added.

Sea Sabre stomped a hoof from where she’d been watching in silence, the harsh ring drawing attention to her. “That’s enough, Trails. She’s not some rabbit you can dangle a carrot over.” She turned to speak to Twilight. “The city is pulled by a pair of ancient leviathans. They are guided by carefully placed nets filled with fish, and the ocean’s monsters refuse to get anywhere near to them. Any other questions?”

“Uh—no. Thank you.” Twilight looked away quickly, keeping her eyes on the city and the short docking tower growing larger in the viewport. She did have more questions, of course, but the violent daydream was still lingering in her thoughts like dark clouds receding past the horizon. Peering into the waters below, Twilight’s eyes picked out the vague, lumbering shadows of the leviathans. Leviathan Wakes, huh? They were huge—majestic—and yet Twilight felt no stirring wonder in her heart. All she felt was tired. Hollow. And Applejack’s curious gaze boring into the back of her head.

Twilight always felt better when her mind had something to occupy it, and their whirlwind layover at Leviathan Wakes was just the mercy she needed. There was much to be done, and the threat of Gava following them gave little opportunity to relax. The three days they stayed were spent being fitted for dive suits, purchasing supplies, and working on the submarine in a rented workshop. At night Twilight drew up plans, scoured history books for hints at the Everfree’s current nature, and plotted potential courses with Rainbow Dash and Star Trails.

She snatched sleep in short bursts no more than two hours long, wary of exposing herself to her nightmare again, but she was left blissfully dreamless. Through it all she avoided any lengthy conversation with Applejack, always keeping an excuse on hoof if she needed a quick getaway. She knew that her friend was worried for her, but what could the cowpony do? Magic had always been her domain. Twilight had a task before her, and losing herself in it was a great comfort to her straining mind.

After the blur that was Leviathan Wakes, they spent two days flying southwest. Twilight hadn’t found any explicit references to an “Everfree Forest” during her research, but it had become apparent after just a few cross-references that the forest hadn’t moved anywhere. Journals, charts, and almanacs all warned of a “Serpent’s Eye,” a patch of sky where airships went in and rarely came out unmolested. There were stories of ships drifting just outside of it with no sign of anypony ever being aboard, of bold salvage teams that launched expeditions into the waters beneath and never resurfaced, and wayward crews that returned to port babbling and mad. The hazy borders of the Eye were right where both Twilight and Rainbow believed the Everfree Forest once grew, and even Sea Sabre had mentioned it once she realized where the charted course would take them.

There wasn’t any clear demarcation of where the Eye started. Even as they neared the end of their course, Twilight wasn’t sure when exactly they passed into it. The skies were just as clear, the waves just as calm, and yet there came a moment when she realized that her hooves had become restless, bearing her back and forth across the ship as she searched for imaginary hunters behind every cloud.

Twilight nearly jumped out of her fur when the steady rhythm of the Argo’s ticking stumbled into a ragged staccato clanking that reminded her of an old smoker drawing breath. She knew only the barest principles that the ship’s complex interior relied on, but it was clear even to her that something was wrong. The ship gave a janky lurch, and then began to slowly lose altitude. A second passed, and a low alarm began to ring through the halls.

It wasn’t a crash or a dive, but it was definitely not the same pace that the ship normally used when descending. It took Twilight less than a minute to run down the hall, taking the stairs up two at a time, and burst into the flight room.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “I felt something.” Every pony aboard the ship was already there, making the large room feel notably cramped.

“Envelope pressure is dropping,” Flint said. He frowned at her as he leaned against the doorframe, one of his guns cradled in his hooves like a favorite child. “Seems that curse makes quick work.”

“There’s no such thing as curses,” Twilight said, stepping further into the room. It had practically become reflex to her after the Poison Joke fiasco. “Enchantments, maledictions, illusions, even geas, yes. But curses, hexes, and bewitchments are all just myths.”

Sunfeather spoke up from her control dias. “Well your myth just busted my pipes.” She grunted as she pumped both front hooves down onto a heavy pedal before her with a steady rhythm.

“And what exactly is that gonna mean?” Applejack asked. She took her hat off and held it to her chest. “We ain’t gonna lose the ship, are we?”

“We’ll be fine,” Sabre said. The confidence in her voice was a reassuring relief from the loud bangs and scrapes coming from the hull. “The Argo was made to float if needed, whether to save energy or make repairs. Once we touch down and stabilize the engine, we can get started on replacing the pipe.”

“How long is that gonna take?” Rainbow Dash asked. She was hovering above the control dais, giving the approaching ocean nervous glances every few seconds.

“Probably about a day,” Trails said. She shrugged. “We’ve had a problem with that pipe once before—it’s a real cow to get to and there’s no room for more than a couple ponies to work on it at a time.”

“Well we aren’t going to wait around braiding our manes for a whole day, are we?” Rainbow asked. “That Gava chick could still be tailing us, and we’re already close enough to use the sub, right?”

Sunfeather cleared her throat. “Brace yourselves,” she said as if she was telling the time of day.

Everypony rushed to grab onto something, and Twilight was quick to follow suit. The ship gave another shuddering heave just before the wide viewport before them smashed into the water. For a moment Twilight feared that the ship would sink, the water sliding almost high enough to completely submerge the flight room, but then the ship’s buoyancy took over. Twilight’s stomach lurched as the flight room burst out of the water, and she held tight until the ship—engine now silent—settled into the steady rocking of the waves.

Sabre was the first to speak. “Status report.”

“Not showing any indications of further damage,” Sunfeather said as she scanned the walls of gauges. She flicked her tail. “Scratch that. Another pipe cracked.”

Trails groaned. “Fantastic.”

“Any of ye lot good with oil on yer hooves?” Flint asked, standing up. “Dusty’s about as useful with repairs as… well, as a historian. I’d hate t’leave Sunfeather t’do the work all on her own.”

Dusty Tome looked up from where he was clinging to a railing. “H-hey! I help!”

Applejack raised a hoof. “I ain’t seen too much of how y’all work things these days, but I reckon I was a handy hoof back in our time. I can lend a hoof if y’all will take me.”

“You aren’t gonna come down with us?” Rainbow asked, frowning. “We should stick together.”

Applejack smiled as she stuck her hat back on her head. “Don’t you worry ‘bout me none, gals. Y’all just go ‘n do your part, and we’ll have the ship up and runnin’ smoother ‘n a summer festival. I’ll be sure to give anythin’ that tries us a good buckin’ before it knows what’s hit it.”

“It’s settled then,” Sabre said, cutting off Rainbow’s protests. “Sunfeather, Dusty, and Applejack will stay to work on the ship. As for the rest of us, let’s prepare to dive.”

“Rarity?”

“Yes, darling?” Rarity looked up from the fabric she was cutting. Pinkie Pie was standing in the opening of her work tent, trays of banana bread stacked up high on her back.

“Have you seen my special envelopes?” Pinkie asked. She stepped further into her tent, casting her gaze around the organized mayhem of textiles.

Rarity frowned. Her horn shimmered as she levitated her working glasses off, folded them, and gently set them down. “Your… special envelopes? Be a dear and remind me what those are?”

“The ones that Twilight made for me. Duh!” Pinkie lifted a pile of fabulous folded blankets with a single hoof, her nose wrinkling as she sniffed at the thin grass underneath. Her tail twitched a staccato rhythm behind her “I had her weatherproof a set before we left. In case of extreme invitation emergencies!”

Rarity had just been about to remark about bothering Twilight with such trivialities when the poor mare always seemed so busy of late when she caught sight of the poofy pink tail bobbing up and down. She stole a glance up towards the top of the tent. “Pinkie, dear? Have you noticed your tail?”

"Huh?” Pinkie looked back at her tail. Her eyes shot wide open, almost as if she had forgotten it was there. “Oh! Rarity, what do you think it means if my tail twitches backwards?”

Rarity frowned. She could not remember Pinkie ever being uncertain on the meaning of a twitching tail. Everypony knew what a twitching tail meant, after all. “I’m not sure, dear. I didn’t think it was precisely possible for something to twitch backwards.”

“Neither did I,” Pinkie said. Her lips quirked to the side as she scratched at the ground. “It’s been happening for half an hour and nothing has fallen! This has never happened before.”

“Well I’m sure if you give it some time you’ll figure out what it means,” Rarity said, returning her gaze to her work. After a few seconds she hesitated, peering back up. “It’s not—it isn’t a doozy, is it?”

But Pinkie had already left. Rarity listened to her light-hearted humming drift into the distance, and then dismissed the matter from her mind.

Twilight stood atop the gently rocking deck of the submarine as the Argo bobbed around her. The ship was slumped over at a strange angle without its engine to hold it right, casting her into the thick shadow of its hull.

Rainbow Dash’s voice crackled into her helmet. “Uh, Twilight? You coming in or were you hoping to swim along?”

A tired little smile cracked Twilight’s lips. “I’m heading down now,” she said. It was more awkward than she liked climbing down the ladder wearing the new dive suit, but it was necessary. Even with the modifications made to the sub for extra space, it would be a tight-fitting journey with her two friends and Sabre’s team. There was no room to stow the suits until they were needed. That said, the one she wore now wasn’t nearly as clumsy as the spare she had worn before. She had even had it painted with purple highlights and outfitted with violet lights. And it’s easier to hide my exhaustion behind this helmet.

She closed the hatch behind her before squeezing into the congested control room. Everyone but Flint was waiting there; Sabre and Trails were needed to pilot the sub, and Rainbow just couldn’t stand being anywhere but at the front of anything. Fluttershy was probably just there to be close to Rainbow.

Twilight had been surprised when Fluttershy had shown up outfitted in her dive suit, quietly trailing Rainbow Dash and somehow still seeming small and frail within the bulky armor. At first she had wondered as to why the yellow pegasus would ever want to dive headfirst into the apocalypse, but it had become apparent once Dusty Tome had followed her asking for an interview.

Sea Sabre looked back as Twilight’s heavy armored hooves clanked against the floor. “Everypony in?”

A chorus of affirmatives sounded off in her helmet, ranging from Flint’s baritone grunt to Fluttershy’s quiet little squeak. Twilight was the last to answer. “We’re ready.”

“Roger that. Taking us down.”

Twilight watched as the water slowly lapped higher and higher on the sub’s viewport until they were completely submerged. As the depths of the ocean swallowed them in its darkness, she clicked her radio transmitter off. She didn’t want her friends to hear how fast she was breathing.

Rarity could feel her diplomatic smile straining as she followed Whitehorn through the Fellis Island thaumagram station. It was a garish affair, with an excess of expensive finery and stained glass placed in a way that—in her professional opinion—was just passing atrocious. It wasn’t the building which had her on edge, however.

No, her quarrel was with its owner, operator, and resident. Mister Lay Drifts.

Whitehorn looked back at her, a knowing smirk on his face. “Careful, Lady Rarity. Your ire is showing.”

She scoffed, eyeing the passing tapestries with a derisive gaze. “I hardly think my attitude towards Mister Drifts is any great secret, Whitehorn.”

“Perhaps not, but there’s no sense in antagonizing him.”

Rarity sighed. She ran a hoof through her mane, straightening the most rebellious curls. “I’m sorry, but the stress of having even more ponies to care for in a couple days might just be getting to me. If that buffoon is incapable of keeping himself in check then I cannot be blamed for biting back.”

Whitehorn chuckled. “Very well then, my Lady. Let’s see how it turns out.”

He opened the door leading to the room where the thaumagrams themselves were transmitted, stepping aside to allow Rarity through. She dipped her head in thanks, screwing her nose up as she walked into the hazy cloud of cigar smoke that seemed to breed and multiply between every visit. The room was dominated by a smoke-stained steel terminal set in the far wall, its surface home to at least two dozen bouncing needles and gauges that gave off a constant droning hum. Heavy drapes covered the floor-to-ceiling window on the left wall, and so the only source of light was the three-tiered chandelier hanging from above. Its light filtered through the smoke to illuminate a pair of ponies—a mare and a stallion. The pegasus mare was clearly frazzled and overworked, her eyes darting back and forth as she scanned the stacks of paper scattered about her desk, scribbling urgently on a worn notepad. The orange-coated stallion was much more relaxed, seated in front of the terminal with his magic wrapped around the pale white control orb set before him.

The mare flinched at the sound of the door opening, looking up to greet the newcomers with a lopsided smile. “Hello welcome to the thaumagram station how can we help!”

Whitehorn dipped his head, reaching into his saddlebags to pull out a trio of thick letters. “We were wondering if Mister Drifts would be able to send some correspondence to Heighton for us.”

The mare’s face paled at the size of the stack. She took a deep breath to speak, only to be cut off by Lay Drifts turning around.

“Ah, Whitehorn! And Lady Rarity.” He said the latter with a thin covering of undisguised irritation. “Of course I can take care of you, if you’ve got the bits. Heighton, you say? How many words are we talking?”

“Just a few thousand, if you would,” Whitehorn said. “They’re drafts for my article.”

Rarity cleared her throat, pulling a single letter out of her purse. “And a couple hundred from myself, please.”

Mister Drifts grunted, turning back to his terminal. “Eighty-five bits, and I’ll have your message out by tomorrow morning.”

“Excellent,” Whitehorn said. The stack of papers fell on the pale mare’s table with an audible thunk, drawing a small whimper from her. Rarity’s letter floated down a second later, resting daintily on top.

“And here is the fee, madam,” Rarity said, levitating the proper amount of bits out of her bag and onto the table.

The instant the bits left her magical grasp, they were wrapped up in the pale yellow glow of Mister Drift’s magic. They floated to his side, spinning in a rapid circle as he counted. “Eighty-five it is. It’s always nice when customers don’t try to gyp you.”

Rarity’s smile twisted into a grimace. She held herself back for a full second before the words broke free. “Is that a problem you have often, Mister Drift?”

Lay Drifts chuckled, the cigar floating out of his mouth to let him speak clearly. “More than you know, Lady Rarity. I know you’re new to these parts, but as one Gifted to another let me clue you in: those damnable refugees will try just about anything to cheat a pony.”

Rarity grit her teeth. It was bait, and she knew it. A lady does not rise to— “From what I’ve heard you’re the one that’s been trying to cheat them.”

“Is that so?” He turned around, magic still glowing around the terminal as it hummed away. “I think you’ve been spending too much time around those bastards, Lady Rarity, if you don’t mind my saying. I don’t know what lies they fill your ears with, but used to be a dozen of ‘em coming up here every day offering me just about everything under the sun but bits.”

“Those ponies are only trying to speak to their families!” Rarity snapped. “They offer you jewelry and food and favors because they didn’t have time to grab a bag of bits when their home fell out of the sky, and you deny them any contact with the outside world. It’s heartless!”

“Do I look like a charity to you, my Lady?” Lay Drift asked. His eyes widened as he leaned over, letting out a series of ragged coughs before straightening. “Ugh, whatever. You bring bits, I do my job. That’s how it works. Now unless you’ve got anymore work for me, I’m busy.”

He turned around, sticking the cigar back into his mouth and giving it a few furious chews. Rarity glared at the back of his head for a few seconds, jaw still clenched, but she knew there was no point to it. She had already shamed herself enough by losing control. There were ponies just outside that needed her, and she wouldn’t be any help to them standing around and arguing with a Gifted oaf.

She spun to face the open door, seeing Whitehorn leaning patiently on the frame. With a righteous “Hmph!” she marched out into the hall, not even looking back to see if he followed.

“Bravo, Lady Rarity,” Whitehorn’s voice said behind her.

“That Lay Drifts doesn’t deserve the mark on his flank,” Rarity said. “He could make such a difference for those poor ponies, and instead he near single-hoofedly cuts them off from the world!”

“There are still messengers and mailships that deliver for the refugees,” Whitehorn said. “He might be an obstacle, but at least they can go around.”

Rarity came to a stop before the door leading outside, brow furrowed. “What right does he have to be this way? It’s as if he thinks that cutie mark is a divine right to treat the world as his own worthless oyster! And you tell me that all Gifted are like that?”

Whitehorn shrugged, coming up besides her. “Most of them, at least. They aren’t usually familiar with the struggles of their fellow pony.”

“It isn’t proper!” Rarity opened the door a little too roughly, sending it swinging back into the wall. “The Gifted could do so much good if only they tried!”

She turned to step outside, and nearly stepped right into Pinkie Pie.

“Hi Rarity!” she said. “I have a problem!”

“Oh! Uh—” Rarity cocked her head, her anger slipping away. “What is it, darling?”

Pinkie turned, pointing a hoof at her backwards-twitching tail. “Twitchy tail! It’s getting worse!”

Rarity took a reflexive step back into the confines of the station, stealing a nervous glance up. “Well that’s quite alarming, dear, but I don’t think that’s really a big—”

“No, you don’t understand!” Pinkie grabbed her, dragging her out into the noontime sunlight. She leaned in close to Rarity’s ear, whispering loud enough for anypony around to hear. “I think it might be a doozy!”

Rarity frowned, pulling away. “Well do you know what kind, Pinkie?” She looked to the mare’s tail and saw that yes, it was twitching. Violently, at that—and in a pattern she had never seen it make before.

Whitehorn cleared his throat, following the two outside. “I’m sorry, what’s happening? Her tail is twitching and that means… what, exactly?”

Rarity turned to answer him, only for the words to die in her throat as she felt a peculiar sensation pass through her horn. It wasn’t something she had exactly felt before, but it reminded her almost of the feel of stepping outside a warm house in the middle of a clear winter morning, or of biting into a meal only to find it cold in the middle. She was suddenly aware that there had been some magic existing in the background, so faint that she hadn’t even noticed it until it just now was peeled away.

She frowned. Her heartbeat had sped up. There was a sudden urge to flee, and yet she knew not where to or what from. “Did you feel that, dears?”

A chorus of screams echoed up from the nearest river. Rarity’s heart skipped a beat as she galloped to the closest railing, looking down into the valley below to see the refugee camp had been thrown into a sudden panic. Ponies were running everywhere, stumbling desperately up the neighboring hillsides where Fellis citizens were watching curiously. Through it all, one particular shriek came clearly to her ears.

“No! Celestia, no! Not again!”

Rarity took a few slow steps, turning to her friends behind her. “Do you think we should head for—”

A deep rumble shook up Rarity’s hooves, and she was struck with the inexplicable sensation of falling.

Author's Note

What do you call an island full of people looking for a better life? Ellis Island. What do you call that island when it falls into the ocean with your waifu onboard?

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XII: The Fall

Anatami wasn’t sure why a thaumagram station would have stone gargoyles carved into its sides. They weren’t any kind of common sight on Fellis Island, but there was a solid half-dozen of the things leering out at the passersby on the street-facing side of the station. A strange choice by the architect, but they did make excellent places to perch and watch whatever went on below.

Lady Rarity and her entourage were just stepping out of the station now, the Countess taking part in an energetic conversation with her aptly-named pink friend. Ana’s ears twitched as she listened in, picking up every word with all the ease of a bat in a cave.

A scream from the refugee camps cut the conversation short. Ana frowned as she allowed herself to be distracted by the commotion for a brief moment before dismissing it as irrelevant. Just as she turned back to her marks, a deep rumble shook through the island, nearly dislodging her from her hiding spot. The stone beneath her hooves lurched exactly like a building shouldn’t, and Ana felt her weight lessening as if she were gliding mid-air. It took her a few seconds to piece these events together.

“Oh, you’ve got to be bucking me,” she cursed. Just my luck!

Ana heaved a heavy sigh as she watched Whitehorn leading Lady Rarity and Pinkie through the streets at a hasty gallop. One-by-one ponies began to run screaming in every direction as their slow minds realized the gravity of the situation. The quick might be lucky enough to secure passage on the vessel of a chivalrous merchant captain or ferry, but the limited space would turn many of those ships into flying riots. No doubt some ponies would lock themselves in homes or shelters to spend their final futile hours praying to long-dead alicorns. She scoffed at their idiocy. The only thing that’s gonna save them is themselves.

The rich would flee to their personal ships, stopping only the few minutes to determine which allies and assets were worth saving before casting off. Ana needed to be on the Sip of Ambrosia when it did so, but she had business to attend to first.

Her leathery wings snapped open as she stepped off her perch, slowing her fall. The fleeing crowd paid her no mind as she alighted in front of the thaumagram station. She was just reaching for the door when it opened of its own accord, revealing a harried Lay Drifts and a pegasus mare struggling to carry a fearsome set of luggage.

A friendly grin stretched across Ana’s face. “Hey there, Lay! Can I call you Lay?”

The stallion’s hoof raised as if to shove her aside. “Are you crazy, lady? Get—” He froze as his mind caught up with his sight. His eyes traced the well-worn path from her featherless wings, to her tufted ears, to the ever-sharp carnivore’s teeth.

Ana didn’t bother waiting for a response. She didn’t have the time to waste on answering the usual questions, so she took the liberty of stepping inside and closing the door behind her. “Great! You’re the operator for this station, right? Y’know, I read about you in the broadsheets!”

Lay nodded dumbly, matching Ana’s steps in a bid to keep his distance.

“Awesome. Here—” Ana slipped a wing into the thin saddlebag she wore, using the stubby claw at its tip to pull out an envelope. “I need you to send this out to a few places. My sister’s expecting mail, but it’s hard to really pin down where she’ll be. Y’know how it is with those wanderer types. And you might want to shut that cute mouth of yours and get started, too, cause if you haven’t noticed this whole island will be swimming soon enough!” She ended the sentence with a snort and a giggle, holding the envelope before her.

A sparkling brown aura pulled the letter out of her grasp. Lay Drifts turned it about before him for several dumbfounded seconds before throwing it back in a sudden burst of life.

“Are you crazy, lady?” he shouted. “Get out of my way! I don’t have time for no damn letter!” He took a half-step forwards as if to remove her by force, only to falter when she didn’t move.

Ana rolled her eyes as she scooped the letter off the floor. “Why not, you plothole? Your ship is locked up all nice and tidy practically across the street!” She tapped a hoof against his chest. “I’m the only one here that’s really gonna miss a few stray minutes! Will this help?”

She fished a drawstring pouch out of her bag and tossed it in her hoof so the jingle of its contents was clear. She lowered her stance as a heavy tremor shook the floor beneath her, accompanied by redoubled screaming outside.

Lay snatched the bag up in his magic and peered inside. “... These are bottlecaps.”

“Oh, hay! Wrong one,” Ana lied. She hid her disappointment with practiced ease as she replaced the pouch with one that actually held a sizable collection of bits. Someone else’s bits.

Lay glared at the bits within as he inspected them, then turned his smoldering gaze on the cocksure thestral. “Look here, miss.” He spoke the word in a tone that made it clear he didn’t think the title quite fit her. “I have customers ahead of you that still haven’t had their correspondence sent out, and you wouldn’t be cutting in line even if the island wasn’t falling.” He paused, his eyes darting to the door behind her. “I’ll be at my summer home in a few days, and I know the owner of another station near there. I’ll send your letter, but I sure as hay ain’t gonna do it until I can trust the ground under my hooves!”

Ana rolled her eyes. “Fine, whatever! Just get it done.” She stepped aside, offering an exaggerated bow.

“A pleasure doing business with you,” Lay growled. He wasted no time in brushing past her, his assistant wobbling along close behind.

With her business handled, Ana stepped after them back into the chaos of the streets. The crowd had thickened in her absence, the ponies within surging towards the small private skyport down the street. The tower had never held more than a few private vessels during Ana’s stay on the island, but already it was almost completely abandoned. A line of hired muscle had formed a cordon around the port’s doors, engaged in a heated shouting match with the desperate crowd. She picked out Lay Drifts and his assistant shoving their way down the street, and wondered if the dam of social etiquette might finally break once they were let through.

Hopefully not. She didn’t want Gava worrying.

Time to blow this joint. Ana turned for the larger public port that the Sip of Ambrosia was docked at. Navigating the crowd-choked bridges of the island and reaching the ship before Lady Rarity would be an impossible feat for any pony, but Ana was of a different breed.

With a few powerful flaps, she took wing.

The splash of the island's impact resounded with all the roaring fury of a bomb going off beneath Rarity’s hooves. The water kicked up by the falling mass cast the island into shadow as they were thrown to the street. Rarity’s vision swam as her head bounced off something hard. She raised a leg to her head and moaned, teeth clenched at the sting of pain.

“Rarity?” The voice seemed distant, hidden beneath the ringing in Rarity’s ears. Pinkie Pie’s face appeared above her wearing a hazy grimace. “On your hooves, Rare-bear! The party’s not done yet!”

The world spun. Rarity shook her head, feeling something warm and fuzzy slip underneath her and a small wave of nausea as she was lifted up. Whitehorn’s voice buzzed into her ear. “I’ve got her, Pinkie. Follow me!”

Motion. Rarity was not a big fan of motion at that moment. Her eyes rolled about and she caught a glimpse of a tower collapsing in the distance as it was struck by a titanic wave. Her vision blurred, refocusing just in time to spot a crowd of ponies being crushed by a chunk of bouncing marble. She shuddered, weak hooves sliding against Whitehorn’s side as she tried to get up and run. Celestia, why was she so dizzy?

Black fog was racing across the sky in scattered clumps. She frowned up at it. So dirty, these skies. Rainbow ought to clean them up some. She felt wetness splashing against her face and tried to wave it off with a hoof. The sky was replaced with darkness, and all Rarity knew was the dull pounding of hooves on stone and the sound of rushing water.

The annoying ringing began to fade. She blinked in surprise as she realized she was being carried on some stallion’s back. A glance down to his flank gave no answers; the stallion was somehow lacking any sign of a cutie mark.

“What’s going on?” Rarity mumbled. There was still some nausea, and it threatened to spike when she spoke.

“I think she’s getting better!” Pinkie said off to one side. “Don’t worry, Rarity! We’ve got you!”

The bouncing motion stopped, and Rarity felt herself being laid up against a wall. The stallion bent down to look into her eyes, and her muddled mind caught up enough to supply his name.

“Are you well, my Lady?” Whitehorn asked. “Can you walk?”

“Ugh, my poor head.” Rarity forced herself to look around and take in her surroundings. They looked to be in the stairwell of an apartment building. Grey light filtered in through a window. “I’m—I think I’m fine now. Where are we?”

Whitehorn grimaced, his eyes darting up to the window. “The streets aren’t safe. This building looked sturdy enough, though we surely can’t stay here for long.”

Pinkie was peering outside as well, her mane drooping. “They’re… this is… we really can’t save them?”

Whitehorn shook his head. “There’s nothing we can do for them, Pinkie.” He was breathing hard, a sheen of sweat coating his fur. “We need to get to the ship. It’s our best bet to get off the island.”

Rarity struggled to her hooves, testing her strength. She gave a slight teeter to one side before recovering. “We already agreed on this, Pinkie. I know it’s hard to watch and do nothing, but we’ll be in a far better position to help once we have our ship.” It hadn't been an easy decision to make, but there was little alternative once they realized the island was truly falling into the ocean. I'll find a way to make up for this. I swear it.

“Let’s go,” Whitehorn said. He stood at the foot of the stairs, looking to Rarity. “Do you need a shoulder?”

Rarity gave a breathless nod, allowing the stallion to support her weight as they started up the stairs. Most of the windows had been shattered by the island-cracking tremors which continued to wrack the city. Their jagged remnants granted her terrible glimpses of the disaster just outside. She saw ponies caught in the street by the surge of water racing in from the new coast. Dark, sinuous shapes raced through the drowned streets, their barbed forms slicing through the water like bullets aimed at anypony struggling to stay afloat. Pieces of architecture and sometimes whole buildings or chunks of earth were bounced between the sturdier buildings by muddied waves, where the lucky and the fast huddled on the roofs and upper levels in a bid for safety. She wanted to help these ponies, but she could barely help herself up the stairs. Her tears saved her from having to see anything more, and she aimed her eyes ahead.

The whipping winds slapped at Rarity’s face as they came out onto the roof of the apartment. The building’s location on one of the taller hills of Fellis had saved it from the worst damage, but it had still developed a dangerous tilt. Its smaller neighbors had been torn away from their foundations, leaving the construct as a lonely island in an ocean of chaos. The path to the leaning tower that held the Sip of Ambrosia had been demolished by the ocean, replaced with frothing white rapids that twisted and smashed against a riverbed formed of broken buildings and piled rubble.

Whitehorn sighed. His voice was low, his eyes locked on the distant tower as the cracks near its base began to thicken and spread. “Well… any ideas?”

Pulling herself out of a howling headwind, Ana shook her head and focused back onto the Sip of Ambrosia. She was nearly there now, but the port tower had begun a dangerous teeter, pulling the lone ship moored to it like a clumsy dance partner. She could see the ship’s propellers straining as the crew struggled to maintain altitude, and the shadows of crewmembers in their frantic rush to cast off the deadly ropes.

A cacophony of shrill shrieks pierced Ana’s ears. Alarm thrilled through her forced calm as she glanced back. A dark, fluttering silhouette the size of a house had leveled onto her tail. Buck me, buck me, buck me, buck me!

Vampire bats were no joke. She’d seen the shriveled corpses of their victims, and had no interest in trying to inspire some weird, batty kinship in them. She traded altitude for speed, angling her body like an arrow as she closed the last dregs of distance in an aerial sprint.

With the thought of the bats on her mind, she missed the telltale fluctuations in air pressure that hinted at upcoming turbulence. A powerful wind slammed into Ana, nearly throwing her to the ground. She wrestled against the hostile sky to keep her place above the calamity below. The world danced around her, her ears deafened by the thunder of the waves and the island itself crumbling to pieces.

She cried out as her body slammed into something heavy. If not for the lance of pain in her sides, she would have missed the wet crack of breaking bones beneath the tinkle of shattering glass and the flapping roar of the wind outside. She curled into a ball, shielding her face as she bounced twice and slid to a stop.

Ana took shallow breaths, testing the damage. Two ribs broken, at least, maybe a wing as well. Multiple cuts on every limb. She opened her eyes and saw the shards of glass and wooden splinters embedded in her barrel.

She raised her head and took in her surroundings. She was in some kind of posh bedroom, stuffed with gold-trimmed furniture a size too large for the squat ceiling. Glass, blood, and shattered wood was sprawled beneath the circular window she had crashed through, staining the thick rug that had broken her tumble.

Ana tried moving a limb to get to her hooves, only to let out a seething hiss as the pain lanced through her. She sighed as she laid her head back onto the comfort of the rug. Of all the possible places to crash land, this one wasn’t so bad.

Well, I’m not going anywhere. Fortune guide your shadow, sis. Wherever she was, Ana’s fate was out of her hooves now. She forced her body to relax, slowing her racing heart. She licked her lips and began to hum a raspy old lullaby.

The blackness crawled into her vision, and Ana wondered if she’d ever wake up again.

“This isn’t really what I’d had in mind.”

Rarity glanced over to where Whitehorn stood. It occurred to her that he looked rather dashing with the wind tugging at his torn shirt sleeves and the tattered remains of his vest. “I was under the impression that you didn’t have anything in mind, darling.”

A corner of his lips curled up into a grim, half-hearted smile, but he otherwise ignored the banter. “I don’t know if I’m willing to trust my life to this little cart.”

“Hey, you take that back!” Pinkie looked away from the vehicle in question, leveling a hoof on the stallion. “He’s a grown wagon!”

Rarity had to admit that the wagon looked to be on its last legs. Last… wheels? Pinkie had spotted it lodged against the apartment building by the waves and had been swift in enlisting Rarity’s assistance hauling it up to the roof through a combination of levitation and Pinkie’s strange talent for effortless climbing. It was now perched on the edge of the roof which leaned out over the water, its front wheels spinning freely off the side. The roof had been shattered to pieces from some previous impact, and the driver’s seat and harness were nowhere to be seen.

Whitehorn didn’t look convinced. “We’ll be smashed to bits.”

“Nuh-uh!” Pinkie was now walked around the wagon, adjusting its position with little nudges and bumps. “I’ve got a pretty good feeling about this!”

“And you trust that?” Whitehorn arched a brow. “Her good feeling?”

“With my life, darling,” Rarity said. She blinked as she caught motion in the shadow of the stairwell, and leaned around the stallion to get a better look. A white-coated unicorn filly was peering out of it. Rarity’s throat tightened. “Sw-Sweetie?”

The filly ducked back into the stairwell. Whitehorn glanced behind him before returning his curious gaze back to Rarity. “Did you see something?”

Rarity ignored the question, nearly tripping as she galloped into the stairwell, her voice echoing down to where water had flooded the bottom levels. “Sweetie? Are you—”

Her voice caught in her throat as her eyes adjusted. The little filly had run to join three other ponies. A battered mare and stallion had pushed her to hide behind their legs, next to a wide-eyed colt.

“Please!” The mare was first to speak, pushing the word out so abruptly that Rarity jerked in alarm. “There’s room for all of us on the roof isn’t there? Just leave us be!”

The stallion was more reserved in his speech. His eyes traveled down to where Rarity’s torn outfit revealed her cutie mark, then to his hooves. “We had no choice, ma’am. Our apartment is flooded. Would you consider letting us up?”

Rarity’s ear flicked, but she registered the words only on the edge of her consciousness. Her gaze was focused on the off-white filly that watched her with wide, pale green eyes. It was only when she took in the solid mulberry of the filly’s curling, single-tone mane that she seemed to wake up. “Y-yes. Of course there’s room. Just… follow me.”

It’s not her. Rarity repeated the phrase in her head as she led the family back up to the roof. She’s gone. Keep your head, Rarity. It’s not her. A lady does not let her past… haunt her.

Whitehorn’s skeptical gaze widened in surprise as the family stepped out into the open air. “What…” His mouth set into a firm line. “Where did they come from?”

“Does it matter?” Rarity countered. She walked over to Pinkie’s side, lowering her voice. “Can we fit a few more, Pinkie?”

“Huh?” Pinkie looked up from the wiggly vibrations going through her knee, then to the shivering family. Her lips split into a beaming smile. “Oh! You found the new friends I was wondering about!”

Whitehorn joined them with a few stiff steps. “You’ve put us in an awkward situation, my Lady,” he whispered.

Rarity frowned. “How’s that?”

“If we had left a little sooner then we wouldn’t have to worry about this, but how do you think they’ll react when we leave them stranded on this rooftop?” he asked.

“We aren’t leaving them, silly filly!” Pinkie cheered. She frowned, cocking her head. “Hmm… is there another word for silly that rhymes with colt? Silly colt? Dolt… colt…?”

Whitehorn scratched a hoof against the floor, nostrils flaring. “It’s bad enough you intend the three of us to ride this thing, Pinkie! You can’t honestly expect it to hold four more ponies!”

Pinkie was still muttering into her hooves, so Rarity opted to speak in her place. “You would have us leave them?”

Whitehorn sighed. “What choice do we have?”

“We take the risk, of course,” Rarity said. She glanced over to the family. The parents were watching the hushed discussion with silent sadness, while the foals had fallen back on their haunches and lapsed into awe-struck terror. Even still, Rarity’s heart ached at the sight of the little filly. “I will not leave these ponies behind to die!”

“And what if it costs us our lives?” Whitehorn hissed. “What if the cart falls apart? Hay, now you’ve got me acting like the cart ever even stood a chance! We need to minimize the risk, my Lady!”

“Is that how you feel, then?” Rarity clenched her jaw to keep from gritting her teeth. “Fine! Why don’t you just go on your own, hrm? Minimize your risk, sir! The rest of us will find our own way!”

She glared into his eyes, straining to impress upon him the fire behind her assertion. He grimaced back at her. Precious seconds ticked past.

“You’re right,” he said at last. “Of course you’re right. We’ll have to take the chance. As if we ever had much of one to begin with…”

“Oki doki loki!” Pinkie popped back into the conversation. She waved a hoof at the family. “C’mon over, ponies! We’re going for a ride!”

“Wh-what?” the mother asked. She looked at Pinkie as if she was crazy.

“Do you see that airship over there, dears?” Rarity pointed a hoof to where the Sip of Ambrosia had finally cut its ties and began to float freely. It dipped and bobbed against the wind as the last vestiges of the airport crumpled into the waves. “That’s the ship we came here aboard. If we can just get there, then we’ll be safe!”

“Safe?” the father bellowed. “On that little cart?”

“Wagon!”

“Not now, Pinkie!” Rarity snapped. She turned back to the family, hoping her smile could convince them that Pinkie wasn’t merely insane. In truth, it was a fact that Rarity had learned almost purely through experience. “You’ll just have to trust us. Look, we’re Gifted, see? I won’t let anything happen to you. Or to your foals.” She swallowed as she said the last words.

They remained skeptic, but the argument seemed to work on them. After a brief conversation among themselves, they edged closer. Pinkie seemed about ready to burst with excitement as she guided each pony aboard the makeshift craft.

Pinkie stepped on last, positioning herself near the edge which leaned out over the water and shaking her rump like a cat about to pounce. “Are we ready, ponies?”

There was no response. Rarity gulped, fighting to still the shaking in her hooves. Trust in Pinkie. Trust her. She would never do anything she thought was truly dangerous, right? She licked her lips and opened her mouth to answer. “R—”

The word turned into a shriek as the wagon kicked into motion. Pinkie had leaned forwards, giving the last tilt needed to slide the wagon’s weight over the edge. It bumped off a protruding sofa with a heart-stopping crack of wood, skidded over the half-submerged roof of a sunken building, and splashed into the roaring waters.

“Weehee!” Pinkie’s tongue flapped in the wind as the wagon raced across the surface of the water. She leaned side-to-side as if skiing down a snowy mountain face, guiding the wagon around deadly obstructions and pouncing beasts in a series of last-second evasions.

Rarity had pushed herself up to the back of the wagon, joined by everypony else. Her mind had been seized with a combination of terror and exhilaration so potent that she couldn’t manage a single coherent thought. She just screamed, took a breath, and screamed as the airship in the distance grew larger.

“You need to help too, Rares!” Pinkie shouted back. Most of the wagon’s left wall was torn away as they ripped past the top of a submerged bridge. “Hold us together!”

“Hold—what?” Rarity forced herself back from the brink of panic and assessed the situation. She had been too busy screaming to notice earlier, but the wagon had become notably smaller as the rapids chipped away at it. The planks were shaking around her as if they were about to fall apart, and Rarity realized the meaning of Pinkie’s words. “I’m not sure if I can!”

“I believe in you!” Pinkie grinned back at her. “Do you believe in me?”

Rarity took a deep breath, nodding. She had to try, if nothing else. The wagon might not be made from clothing or sewing tools, but the adrenaline racing through her veins didn’t seem to care either way. The blue glow of her horn encased the wagon as she gnashed her teeth and fought to hold it together.

Time passed in a vivid blur of motion. The screams, roaring rapids, crumbling island, and collapsing architecture combined into a single unending volley of chaos. Rarity closed her eyes and focused all her thoughts onto the single task: Hold us together. Failure would most likely mean death not only for her and her friends, but also for the family relying on her. She took strength from the thought. Her own Sweetie Belle might be gone, but Rarity imagined she could give her all to save someone else’s.

“Home stretch, ponies!” Pinkie’s voice called. “Hang on to your horseshoes!”

Rarity cracked an eye open, and immediately regretted it. The land between them and the ruins of the airport had been severed by one of the devastating earthquakes splitting the island into pieces. She had just a split second to see this before the airport seemed to duck out of sight. Her stomach lurched.

Pinkie maintained a precarious balance on the single plank of wood that remained of the wagon’s front half. Her hips wiggled in excitement as she crouched low, her tongue flapping in the wind. She looked back to Rarity and winked. “Just a little longer, Rarity!”

There was a part of Rarity that wanted to ask for clarification, but the rest of her was smart enough to know that asking would probably not help. Either way, she only had to wait a few more seconds to find out.

The nauseating bucking of the wagon as it was tossed on the waves vanished with a startling suddenness. The wind whipped at Rarity’s hair as her heart stopped. The world seemed to slide up and then down before her eyes as the wagon jetted off the raised edge of the chunk of island, hung midair in a brief moment of exhilarating respite, and then raced back down under gravity’s harsh control. Pinkie balanced on one hoof the entire time, screaming her joy at the world.

The wagon bounced against the waves with a bone-shaking splash, leaving behind most of the right side. It landed on something solid and began to skid, losing more and more planks along the way. There was one more moment of thoughtless peril as it began to fall once more, and then it finally shattered to pieces.

Rarity covered her head with her hooves as she tumbled across the rough surface of a building. She came to a stop and found herself incapable of movement as her mind both celebrated its survival and tried to cope with the last few minutes of her life. At last she mustered the focus to tilt her head and look at the five ponies sprawled over the building alongside her, most with the disbelief still plastered over their faces.

We… did we make it? Where’s Whitehorn?

“Whee!” The pink mare bounced to her hooves without hesitation, beaming at Rarity. “Near-death experiences are so much fun when you don’t die!”

Rarity often wondered if Pinkie was truly incapable of grasping the gravity of dreadful situations such as this. Her penchant for treating any particular deadly moment as a carnival ride seemed to indicate otherwise, but it was difficult to accept that alongside the fact that she had clearly just guided a wagon on the brink of falling apart through the vicious rapids of a collapsed city falling to pieces. Perhaps she laughed at death only to help her friends cope. Perhaps she really was just a fearless filly playing in a thunderstorm. Either way, Rarity decided not to comment on the matter just then.

She struggled to her hooves, fighting to remain upright as the world spun around her. “Is everypony well? Where is Whitehorn?”

“Here, my Lady!”

Rarity turned to see Whitehorn clinging tightly to the top of a chunk of grooved marble that had been deposited on the building. He blinked and shook his head as he released his grip and slid down to join them.

“Are we all okay?” Whitehorn asked.

“Are you kidding?” Pinkie asked. “I haven’t had this much fun since the changeling invasion!”

Rarity had neither the will nor energy to roll her eyes. “We can still walk, at least.” She looked around, confirming the validity of the statement as the family picked themselves up and took in their surroundings. They seemed to be stranded on a few floors that had snapped off the collapsed airport tower, held still against the raging currents of water by some unseen obstruction. “For what that’s worth…”

“Oh, oh! Twitchy tail!”

Rarity threw herself to the floor without hesitation. Sweet Celestia, what now?

She winced as something limp and scratchy plopped down onto her muzzle. It took a full second for her strained mind to recognize the object as a thick, knotted rope. Following the trail up, she picked out the shadowed shape of the Sip of Ambrosia fighting to hover above them, a pony waving frantically from the top of the rope ladder.

Whitehorn was first to react. He wrapped the bottom of the ladder around his forelegs, squaring his haunches. “Let’s not waste any time! You four go first!”

The family was quick to obey the order. Each of the foals clung onto a parent with shivering hooves as they raced up the ladder. With a beckon from Whitehorn, Rarity went next. She felt the ladder jerk as Pinkie began to climb beneath her, and then start to swing in the wind as Whitehorn started the ascent.

It was a difficult climb, but Rarity found herself pushed upwards by the relief flooding her heart. Relief not just—or even mostly—for her own safety, but also for the safety of the family that climbed above her. The filly looked down at her from the safety of her mother’s back, expression caught somewhere between relief, terror, and giddy excitement.

Rarity’s mind drifted against her volition to thoughts of her sister. No doubt Sweetie would have had a similar reaction to the situation. A few minutes of silence and aimless wandering, maybe, but the torrent of words would have been impossible to stop once the filly recovered. Rarity was glad that the wagon ride had soaked her coat with salty water that made her eyes red and puffy. She always looked so ugly with tears staining her face.

Her thoughts returned to the present as the pegasus waiting at the top of the ladder helped pull her up onto the deck. Rarity took a few steps away from the edge to join Pinkie, grimacing at her surroundings. The richly upholstered furniture and vivid decor that had once occupied the ship’s front deck had all been either tossed overboard or shattered to pieces. Watery blood stained the wood in places, but there wasn’t a crewpony in sight besides the pegasus that had dropped the ladder.

“Mister Whitehorn, sir,” the pegasus said as he helped the unicorn aboard. “Hay, am I relieved to see you and your guests safe! I’m sure the captain will want to see you—she’s on the bridge now. We’re getting the buck out of this hayhole!”

Whitehorn nodded. “We’re grateful for the help, friend. We’ll be fine for now.”

“Yes, sir.” The pegasus dipped his head, picking up a toolbox with his mouth and galloping inside.

Rarity turned to Whitehorn. “Leaving?”

“Let’s go,” Whitehorn said. “Follow me!”

He broke into a shaky canter, and the two mares followed him inside. They made a quick pace through the ship, passing by harried sailors racing through the halls and errant furniture shoved out of the way.

The bridge was a space of relative order hidden away from the chaos outside. The captain and her crew stood firm at their stations, each pony’s eyes glued to the terminals and controls around them. Blood stained the otherwise gleaming steel of the ship. A pale-toned pony with a nurse’s cap hunched over an equally pale stallion mumbling to himself in a pool of blood in one corner.

The captain’s icy gaze thawed into visible relief as she recognized the three newcomers on the bridge. “Mister Whitehorn! Thank Luna you’re here.”

Whitehorn left Rarity and Pinkie to stride past the captain, looking out at the island below through the observation windows. “Is Elector Grove aboard?” he asked.

The captain grimaced. “I’m sorry, sir. We haven’t seen any sign of him since he left this morning. I had just given the order to cast away, sir. We held out as long as we could, but I was unwilling to risk my crew any further.” She paused, glancing down to her hooves. “If you’d like to stay longer, then I would understand.”

Rarity pursed her lips, watching the exchange in silence. Elector Day Grove was the owner of the Sip of Ambrosia, an elected representative from Heighton, and Whitehorn’s personal friend. Despite the unspoken implication that the captain had been seconds away from stranding her and her friends on the doomed island, Rarity couldn’t help but admire the mare. No doubt it had been a struggle to keep the crew calm right up to the moment that the pier itself fell out from under them.

“No, that’s fine,” Whitehorn said. He shook his head and heaved a heavy sigh. “It’s too dangerous. Grove would understand. Take us out of here, captain.”

Rarity cocked her head, ears twitching. Her mind spend a brief moment parsing what she had just heard. “Whitehorn!”

Whitehorn jerked at her raised voice. He turned, eyes wide. “My Lady?”

Rarity kept her appalled glare locked to his as she stepped up to the captain’s side, nostrils flaring. “What are you doing? We can’t leave! There’s ponies dying down there!”

“Yeah!” Pinkie came up on the captain’s other side, lips twisted into a furious snarl that made a harsh contrast against her usual demeanor. “We saved that family! We can save more!”

Whitehorn’s brow furrowed, his mouth setting into a stern line. “We nearly died out there!” The sharp bang of his hoof against the floor filled the room. “Don’t you understand that? I’m grateful for the captain and her crew for rescuing us, but every second we spend on this island is another chance for everypony aboard this ship to throw their lives away on some futile heroics! I don’t know how we survived that hayride, but we’ve taken enough chances! This isn’t some book, Rarity! This is real life, and we need to make the smart decision!”

Rarity blinked, her rage giving way to confusion. Why was he acting this way? He had always been such a chivalrous stallion, yet now he seemed ready to tuck his tail and run at every chance.

The anger came back, twice as powerful. She marched up to Whitehorn, fighting to keep her body under control. When she spoke, her voice carried the calm weight of a thunderstorm on the horizon. “Is this the type of stallion you are, Whitehorn?” she asked. “A gentlecolt to the last, until it truly matters?”

Seconds passed as they stared into each other’s eyes. The wind howled outside, battering the hull of the ship with debris.

“What would you have me do, my Lady?” Whitehorn growled. “Order the captain to land on the nearest wave and dive after ponies with a rope held in her teeth?”

“Have you replaced yourself with some moronic oaf?” Rarity snapped. She jabbed a hoof into his chest as she spoke. “We came here to help ponies! You certainly seemed to care enough when you first invited me on this trip, but now that we hold the power to save dozens of lives you suddenly seem to have turned a coward!”

Whitehorn looked away for the briefest of moments. “My Lady, it—”

“No!” Rarity yelled. “You don’t get to call me that! You don’t get to act like the chivalrous nobles from my time if you’re going to leave so many to die right under your hooves!”

Whitehorn sighed. He looked down, shaking his head. “You mean it all, don’t you?”

“Of course I do!” Rarity shouted. “Celestia help me, Whitehorn! If you abandon these ponies to their fate then I’ll be leaving the instant we find safe harbor, and you shall never see my face again!”

“I’m sorry, Rarity,” Whitehorn said. He risked a look back up to her. “You’re right. I’ve let my fear get the best of me.” He looked past her, towards the captain. “We can’t leave yet. We’ll stay and rescue as many as we can, first.”

The captain’s voice was quick to respond. She barked orders at the stunned bridge crew, jolting them back into action, but Rarity tuned it all out. She still had her frowning gaze fixed on Whitehorn. To his credit, he at least had the good sense to look ashamed of himself.

“Could you forgive me, Countess?” Whitehorn asked.

Rarity knew that she would. Fear could chill the flame of even the most outspoken pony, and a moment of panic was hardly a thing over which to turn a budding friendship into a smoldering rivalry. A lady did not hold pointless grudges.

Rarity had faced danger and death multiple times, and she sometimes forgot that others went all their lives without such peril. Despite the moment of weakness, Whitehorn was otherwise an unfaltering gentlecolt. But it would take time to get over what Rarity saw as a small betrayal of her own trust.

“We’ll talk later,” Rarity said, turning away. She saw Pinkie watching them, muzzle scrunched up with uncertainty. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be watching for survivors out on the deck.”

Ana groaned as consciousness forced itself back onto her. Hot bucks, I’m still alive?

Her whole body was pounding like the family drums at a zebra reunion. Her tongue was drier than a rat drained of blood. She could feel the tight constraints of bandages around her barrel and limbs and head, a sensation she had learned to recognize over years at Gava’s side. She imagined a little pony in her brain being assaulted by wave after wave of critical damage reports, and wished above all else for the dreamless darkness to return and save her from the onslaught of pain.

It was pretty warm, though. Warm and cozy. So she had that going for her.

Accepting that she would just have to deal with being conscious for now, Ana decided she might as well get a better hold of her situation. She cracked an eye open, waiting patiently for the blurs around her to resolve into something more meaningful. In the meantime she focused on her ears, noticing for the first time the hushed chatter that surrounded her. Whether due to the low volume or the mental retardation granted by whatever head trauma she’d subjected herself to, she found it impossible to make out any words. With a mental sigh she turned to her sense of smell. Ah, now there’s something. The unmistakable scent of baked goods tickled at her nose.

Returning her focus to her sight, Ana found herself tucked beneath a scrawny rag of a blanket. For a moment she was confused as to why she felt so warm beneath the pathetic piece of fabric, and then she realized that what she had taken for fuzzy walls or pillows at her sides were in fact other ponies, each wrapped in their own makeshift coverings.

Ana took a trio of deep breaths, bracing herself for the pain she was about to put herself through. She seethed as she pushed herself into a sitting position, leaning against the wall behind her. The world spun, and she let it do its thing while she took solace in the happy fact that she hadn’t shrieked in pain.

Once her eyes saw fit to focus, Ana realized that she was in a hallway. The material, design, and gentle rocking of the floor implied an airship. The ponies to either side of her drew back at her motion, taking the precious warmth with them. Buck them. She didn’t need them anyways. She was used to being alone when Gava wasn’t around.

The memories came back to her in a rush, but Ana took her time sorting through them. She remembered the Gifted she was stalking, the island crashing down, and her race against time to reach the Sip of Ambrosia. Her face contorted into a sloppy grin as she realized that she had made it. The crew of the Ambrosia must have found her, treated her wounds, and left her somewhere to sleep them off alongside the fresh refugees of the former Fellis Island.

It was a relief, to say the least. She had survived the fall, and even managed to keep on the trail of her prey. Assuming, that is, that the two Gifted had also escaped aboard the Ambrosia.

“Good morning, sleepybat!”

It was only through a wealth of experience that Ana kept the scowl off her face. Her eyes focused in on the offensively pink mare in front of her. She was bent low to bring her eyes down to Ana’s, her rear wiggling like a cat about to pounce. Or a mare dancing to an unheard tune.

“Hmm.” Pinkie Pie cocked her head, face scrunching up in concentration. For whatever reason, the tin of cupcakes balanced on her head remained in place instead of sliding off like any reasonable tin should have in its position. “Have I seen you before? You look kinda familiar, and y’know I never forget a face!”

I sure as hay hope you haven’t. Ana had remained carefully hidden during the original trip to Fellis, and had watched only from a distance once the ship had docked. If Pinkie had seen her, then she’d have to be an idiot to not realize that she was being stalked.

Ana opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a choked rasp. She coughed, wincing at the pain of the motion. Her coughing fit was interrupted by the sudden arrival of a cupcake shoved into her mouth.

“Here, eat this!”

Ana didn’t trust her chances on swallowing hard foods just then. Even if she had, cupcakes hovered around the bottom of her list as far as foods to eat when dying of thirst. But Pinkie gave her no choice except to chew, and once she had done that, she saw little reason not to swallow.

To her amazement, the cupcake actually quenched much of her thirst. Ana blinked in shock, her tongue running over the inside of her mouth. What the hay kind of cupcake was that?

Shaking her head, Ana made a second attempt at speaking. “I’m sure… I would remember… if we had met.”

Pinkie Pie beamed with what Ana saw as an uncomfortable amount of joy. “I guess you’re right! I’d probably remember a pony as cool as you, too!” She giggled, standing up straight with a little bounce. “Rest up, sleepybat! You don’t want to miss out on the boarding party!”

Ana watched the mare bounce down the hall, stopping to speak with a refugee family and deliver her tin of cupcakes. She shook her head and closed her eyes, letting her body relax against the wall. She didn’t quite agree with—or even understand—Pinkie’s reasons, but she knew that rest was a good idea either way.

Maybe if she was lucky the others would lend her their warmth again.

Rarity stood on the rear deck of the Ambrosia, her eyes set on the empty horizon in the distance. She had surrendered her room and her bed to ponies that needed them more, and sacrificed much of her new wardrobe to make blankets and bandages. She would sleep in the halls and spare rooms among the refugees when the time came. For now, however, sleep seemed a distant, impossible dream.

She reviewed the events in her mind. She had spent at least an hour on the deck, dodging swarms of vampire bats, tossing ropes, and hauling those ponies lucky enough to survive until Pinkie spotted them. The earth mare had had an uncanny sense for where to find survivors, and it was only due to her that they had been able to save so many. They had pulled ponies up from rooftops, lowered crew members to pluck them out of the waters, and in a few cases the ship’s armed security had broken into buildings tossed among the waves to pull out ponies trapped inside. Pinkie had found them all, and she had still seemed on the verge of tears when they were finally forced to back away by the terrible storm that had surrounded the island.

Because for all the ponies they had saved, there were so many others they hadn’t. Ponies swept beneath the frothing rapids before a line could be thrown, or knocked from the rope ladder by gusts of wind and debris, or even caught by the ocean beasts and dragged to their deaths as Rarity watched helplessly from above. Rarity wondered if Pinkie had sensed even more. Rarity wondered if Pinkie had been forced to choose between who to try and save.

Whatever the case was, Pinkie had thrown herself fully into caring for those they had reached in time. She hadn’t slept at all, instead distributing food and cheer from her own endless reservoir of laughter for those that had lost everything. She seemed to take some solace in this act. Rarity hoped that Pinkie wouldn’t regress back into the sullen, quiet mare she had been upon first seeing the drowned Equestria.

Rarity couldn’t sleep either, though for a very different reason. The deaths she couldn’t help but feel guilty for hung on her conscience, yes, but as terrible as that guilt was, there was something more that had consumed her waking thoughts.

It was something that she had seen, while scanning the drowning island for any sign of survivors. A flash of light had caught her eye, there for an instant between two buildings and then gone. At first she had thought it to be a stroke of lightning, but something about it had set her watching.

She had kept her eye in that direction as she searched, the strange illumination scratching at the back of her mind. It had returned only once, close enough for her to make out details. She wasn’t sure if anypony else had seen. She wasn’t sure if she even wanted anypony else to have seen. Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t sure if she even wanted to have seen it herself.

It was this second glimpse, this second of clarity, which had haunted her mind ever since. She had stood in the same spot on the rear deck, looking back, unable to bring herself to share it with anypony else. Rarity knew that she could be melodramatic at times. She knew that the world had already ended. And yet, it felt to her as if the world was ending all over again. Or perhaps it was only just now ending for her.

There had been a pony in that light.

She had been tall. Nearly twice as tall as Rarity. A long, twisted horn had adorned her forehead. Two majestic wings had spread above her back, the feathers drooping and flaky. Her patchy, torn coat had once been an immaculate white, but had faded to the dull grey of waterlogged parchment. Her mane and tail were the same beautiful, flowing kaleidoscope of colors Rarity had always admired.

Rarity had met Princess Celestia’s eyes, and she was terrified by what she saw. No trace remained of the warm, loving gaze that had once been so renown across Equestria.

The design of the ship shielded Rarity from the wind, but still she drew her scarf tight and shivered.

Author's Note

They say that the path to Tartarus is paved with good intentions.

Join the EH Discord!

XIII: The Dream

Mud splashed against Twilight’s hooves as she charged through the rain-slogged paths of Ponyville. She flinched as a powerful gust of wind blew the hood of her poncho away, clearing the path for heavy drops of rain to splash against her muzzle. She was quick to pull the hood back into place.

It had been raining for days. Rain unlike anything anypony had experienced before. The weatherponies didn’t know what was happening and every attempt to stop it had only led to failure and injury. The rain came down in vicious lashes, driven on by the wind, making it impossible to see anything but vague shapes more than a dozen meters away. Now the streets of Ponyville were nearly empty, most of the population having evacuated for the mountain. A few stragglers hurried past, heads down, saddlebags full to bursting and protected with knotted tarps. They were out of sight in seconds, leaving Twilight alone once again. Like ghosts crossing paths in the fog of the afterlife.

Twilight splashed through the entrance to Sweet Apple Acres, grimacing as the rushing water threatened to pull her from her hooves and down into the farm’s many fresh-drowned valleys. She didn’t understand what was happening. Nopony did. The first guess had been some kind of expansion from the Everfree, but the strange rain clouds had showed up across Equestria simultaneously without any point of origin. Twilight could find no sign of Discord’s magic being responsible. The draconequus and his stone prison had been missing altogether when she traveled to Canterlot to check on them. A torrential rain of simple water seemed counter to his style anyways, and he hadn’t showed up to gloat. Twilight suspected there was some new, yet-unknown force at play, and she knew it was up to her and her friends to find out what.

A gust of wind slammed into her side as she approached the Apple Family barn and pushed her over. She yelped, flailing her hooves as she lost her balance and was swept along by the current. With a burst of magic she increased her weight, using the extra stability to regain her senses and climb to her hooves. She grit her teeth and plodded towards the barn one determined step at a time.

At last she made it to the barn door. “Girls!” she called, struggling to be heard over the storm. “It’s me! Let me in!”

The creak of the double door’s top half opening was barely audible over the pelting of the rain. A single light blue eye peeked through the crack. “Twilight?”

“Fluttershy!” Twilight flinched as a sheet of rain smacked into her muzzle. “Open the door!”

Slowly, Fluttershy shook her head. “I can’t do that, Twilight. There’s monsters outside.”

“Wh—What?” Twilight sputtered. She glanced behind her in search of some sort of creature, but all she saw was the rain and rising water. Her eyes shot open in alarm as she realized that the water was already lapping at her belly. But… we’re on a hill… If the water was so high here, didn’t that mean the rest of Ponyville…

“Fluttershy, please!” Twilight banged a forehoof on the door. “Let me in!”

“I’m scared of you, Twilight,” Fluttershy said. “You’re a monster.”

“No!” Tears of panic were lost in the rain on Twilight’s cheeks. Her world had been reduced to Fluttershy, the barn, and the endless expanse of rising water surrounding them. “Something’s happened to you! Hang on, Fluttershy!”

Was it the unknown enemy that had started the rain? Maybe some kind of hypnosis, akin to what Discord had used on her and her friends? A memory spell! If I can just get her to remember who she is…

A deep roaring pulled Twilight out of her thoughts. She looked to the side, jaw dropping open at the sight of the massive wave hurtling towards them. There was no way they would survive the impact. She had to get her friends out, now.

“Fluttershy, look at me!” Twilight turned back to the barn, horn glowing with arcane energy.

Fluttershy eyed her uncertainly, shrinking back. “You scare me, Twilight. I can’t let you in.”

The quiet creak of the door closing was somehow louder in Twilight’s ears than the pelting rain and roaring wave alike. “No!” Twilight reared up, wedging a hoof into the door and trying to look past Fluttershy. “Let me in! Girls! This isn’t you!”

Her heart was pounding. The shadow of the wave passed over her, plunging her into a darkness even deeper than the storm that had blocked the sun for days. I don’t have time for this! She cast a powerful weight spell on herself, grunting as her legs strained to carry the extra load. The purple glow of a shield lit the barn as she wrapped it in her arcane protection.

“Ungh!” The wave crashed into her shield with a force unlike any she’d felt before, forcing her to pour even more energy into it. She could feel her reserves plummeting—she had to be fast. She locked eyes with Fluttershy and strained to form the memory spell as she maintained her shield and weight spell.

“Twilight?” Fluttershy flinched away. “What are you doing?”

“Trust me, Fluttershy!” Twilight hissed through her clenched jaw. “Look at me!”

There! She had it. The memory spell was ready. Now to just—

The wave roared at her—actually screamed in fury as it redoubled its assault. Twilight cried out in pain as her shield broke, leaving the barn at the mercy of the endless torrent of water. She was sent tumbling through the world, catching brief glimpses of the barn being torn to pieces by the water. The feedback from the broken shield raced up her horn, forcing the memory spell out of her. Without a target, it doubled back onto its caster, the little spark of light twisting to strike Twilight square in the forehead.

In that instant, she was aware. She wasn’t in Ponyville. There was no endless rain or sinister wave; the world had already drowned, and she lay asleep at the bottom of the ocean. It was all an illusion. Yet something was stopping her from waking up. A mental wall keeping her pinned in the realm of dreams with a massive will she could never hope to compete against.

The wave roared at her once more. She was deep beneath the surface now, floating in pitch black. Twisting around, she saw a pair of dark eyes watching her, blacker even than the darkness, framed by wisps of purple and blood-red tears. She stared at it defiantly, horn glowing with renewed purpose. Twilight had some experience with lucid dreaming, and she would not allow this creature to manipulate her without resistance.

With a thought, the water was gone. Twilight stood in the plains outside of Ponyville on a sunny day, a gentle wind playing with her mane. She glared at the lithe, scarred, equine being that had attempted to trap her in nightmare, calling up what she had learned on memories and dreams from long talks with Princess Luna.

“What are you?” Twilight demanded.

The Monster didn’t respond. It watched her silently, terrifying hunger lingering within its bloodshot eyes. Blood oozed freely from the wounds marring its patchy-furred skin, dripping onto the crisp grass below.

She advanced on it, the world shaking with every step. “This is my dream!” she shouted. “My domain! Do you think you can challenge me here?” There was rage burning inside her, alien and empowering. She felt so alive! Wings of vibrant purple energy sprouted at her sides, beating at the air. “If you won’t let me wake up, I’ll tear you to pieces!”

Chunks of earth erupted from the ground as Twilight shot up into the air. She gathered a sparking ball of magic over her horn, the black-laced purple casting a dark shadow over her grin. She unleashed it without focus or finesse, a beam of raw power hurtling towards The Monster with all the thought of a raging river.

The Monster didn’t move. A blinding flash of light and thunderous roar washed over Twilight as the beam struck home. When she opened her eyes again, she saw The Monster hovering calmly above a massive crater, borne on wings of blood.

Twilight screamed, throwing a ball of raw magic at the beast. It dodged to the side, a long tongue darting out to lick at its lips. Twilight didn’t let up. She unleashed a barrage of arcane bullets, bombs, and beams in number she didn’t even bother to count. The world shook with the impacts. The earth shattered beneath her. The light of the detonations drowned out the sun, and still The Monster darted around her attacks, always watching with that leering hunger.

“Die, die, die!” Twilight laughed. “Why won’t you die!?”

Thunder rumbled in the distance as her furious assault came to an end. She was flying high above the cracked earth, chest heaving. She had lost track of her target. Where did it go? She scanned the smoldering horizon with an eager grin, horn already primed to channel even more raw magic.

Twilight’s grin faltered. It twisted into a horrified gape as she took in the dream Equestria around her. The world had been transformed into an ashen hellscape by her madness. Rivers of magma flowed through charred cracks, outlined by the flaming corpses of trees. The once-blue sky was now grey and dead, overcome by the tons of ash and dust kicked up with each explosion. The wooden and thatch homes of Ponyville were little more than scattered sticks, the town unrecognizable except for the ruins of the sturdier town center.

“I… I did this,” she murmured. A cold emptiness formed in her stomach. “How… how could I… No!” She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. “It’s just a dream! It’s not real! You… I would never!”

Opening her eyes, Twilight found herself eye-to-eye with the grinning Monster. For a brief instant her wide stare met its voracious gaze, and then—something dark and red flashed beneath her.

Twilight yelped in alarm as the sudden strike caused her to tumble wildly upwards. Equestria flew past her vision, and again, over and over as she rocketed towards the clouds. She grit her teeth as she tried to angle her wings and balance herself out. She had no experience with flight in the waking world, but Twilight had a great deal of experience lucid dreaming about herself as a princess. And a firm grasp of aerodynamics.

She caught the air on her wings, screwing her nose up in concentration as she leveled herself out just beneath the ashen clouds. Magic gathered at the tip of her horn as she tracked The Monster racing after her, the anger stirring in her chest once more.

No! The black-and-purple orb fizzled out as she forced the magic to disperse. The rage had taken over her, turned her into a monster that would destroy Equestria on a whim. She wouldn’t lose herself to it again. She had to be calm; think things through. Raw power clearly wasn’t working on the beast. She raced through the list of spells she knew off-hoof, looking for—

The Monster struck her during her hesitation, connecting with a sharp crack. Twilight grunted in shock as she shot through the clouds above like a bullet and came out on the other side with a resounding boom.

Her wings were gone. She reached with her mind to pull at the fabric of the dream, but it slipped away from her like a taunting child. She wasn’t in her dream anymore.

She was falling towards an island floating in the sky, its surface pockmarked with craters and scarred with trenches. In brief glimpses she saw explosions erupting from each side of the island as massive cannons exchanged fire. Pillars of smoke rose towards an ashen sky from the burning rubble of a town in the middle of it all, carrying with them the acrid stench of death.

Where had The Monster taken her? It had to be someone else’s dream, as she was lucid but lacked any control over the dream’s reality. Had it gotten to somepony else? Her friends? There wasn’t time to consider the question at length. She needed to recover before The Monster wrestled her mind back into submission.

The wind stung at her eyes as she hurtled through clouds of black smoke, a fresh spell on her mind. One she had cast many times. So often, she thought with a smirk, that she could cast it even in her sleep.

She cast the cloudwalking spell quick and clean, feeling the familiar tingle pass through her body. It wasn’t even a second later that she slapped into the edge of a cloud, bouncing off like a pinball as the breath was driven from her lungs. There was a moment of weightlessness, and then a thud. She tumbled through the soft cloudstuff, coughing up smoke as she finally rolled to a stop on her side.

Twilight bounced back to her hooves, racing to regain her senses. She was standing on the spiraling surface of an acrid black pillar of smoke, high above the battle raging below. Looking up, she saw The Monster rushing down at her with a foreleg extended, fangs bared in an eager grimace.

Twilight leapt to the side, the wake of The Monster passing throwing her off balance as it punched through the smoke cloud where she had been standing an instant before. She rolled back to her hooves, a plan taking shape in her thoughts. She had no power here, but—

“Uhn!” Twilight grunted as The Monster struck her from below, rising up out of the smoke between her hooves. She flew through the air, gasping for breath, and crashed into a dirty grey cloud some distance below.

Should be more careful, she thought, pulling herself to her hooves. Clouds don’t give much protection.

The Monster was already coming for her again, a bloodied arrow streaking through the ashen sky. With a burst of magic Twilight teleported away, reappearing on another cloud. From cloud to cloud she went, working her way down to the surface, trying to recall everything she could about her talks with Luna.

Dream creatures were difficult to deal with. They were ideas given purpose, feelings given thought. To “kill” one was a personal and involved process requiring great investment of time studying its nature, even for the most seasoned dreamwalker. The best a pony like Twilight could do was trap them somewhere they could do no harm. She knew that Princess Luna personally had trapped many powerful creatures in her mind, keeping them contained until she knew enough of their natures to defeat them for good, but Twilight didn’t think that was an option for her.

Another flash of purple, and Twilight found herself on a half-collapsed rooftop in the battle-torn town. She formed a small shield of her magic, angling it to intercept the spear of blood that The Monster had thrown at her. She flinched as the attack bounced away—shattering her shield in the process—before turning tail to run once more.

It couldn’t hurt her in the dream. Not physically, at least. The mind might reel if it thought it had just fallen to its death, but it would always recover to find the body whole. The danger was in what the creature might do to her in that brief interlude between perceived damage and realization. It could drag her away to lock her in a nightmare of her own creation, or consume her subconscious to sustain itself. Likewise, Twilight had no way to fight it outside of her own dreams. She had to find this dream’s host. Until then, she would stall.

Twilight jumped over an alleyway illuminated by the flickering light of gunfire. The Monster burst up through the roof in front of her, maw stretched unnaturally wide. Twilight’s eyes widened in alarm as she rushed to teleport away.

There hadn’t been time to target the spell. She found herself floating mid-air above a collapsed roof. A shocked scream escaped her as she fell onto the rubble, bouncing off with a strangled grunt. She hit a window, cracking it with the force of impact, and fell face-down into the street.

Twilight groaned as she picked herself up. Gunfire rattled in the distance. The Monster was relentless now that she was vulnerable. She had to find the host fast, or she might not get another chance.

She took a quick glance around, seeing no glimpse of The Monster. A trio of huge bullets soared over the street, shaking loose the rubble piled around the street as they struck home somewhere out of sight. Her gaze focused in on a tall building made of stone, scratches of faded blue and purple paint still visible on its cracked walls. A single stained glass window remained whole, depicting a scuffed Princess Luna smiling down at the world.

The building stood out both in color and detail. Where other structures were little more than dim-colored boxes lined up in neat rows, the church and the surrounding park were distinct. The dream’s host must be over there.

The harsh crack of gunfire grew louder in Twilight’s ears as she galloped for the church. Looking through one of the broken windows, she teleported herself inside and onto the surviving half of the wooden mezzanine that looked down onto the church interior.

The ponies inside the church were the image of controlled chaos. Soldiers in varying levels of armor scurried about the rear, firing the repeaters mounted on their sides at an endless horde of faceless grey-furred ponies. The faceless all wore the same light armor and carried the same guns, taking ground with robotic determination as they advanced on the furniture barricade the defenders were using as cover.

Twilight raised a hoof to her muzzle, shocked by the display of violence. The faceless simply disappeared in puffs of ash when they were struck down, but the ponies defending the barricade weren’t so lucky. Their shouts of anger, pain, and fear filled the church with a dread chorus as the fight wavered out of their favor. Bodies were strewn over the floor in grotesque detail, the blood running in miniature rivers to pool at the back of the room.

A familiar voice shook Twilight from her daze. Following the sound with her eyes, she saw Sea Sabre crouched behind the very center of the barricade. The pegasus looked younger—though no less stern—and instead of her dive suit she wore a much less encumbering set of plate segments and a helmet. As Twilight watched, she vaulted over the barricade—a blade attached to each wing—and cut down a trio of faceless before rolling back into cover.

“Flint!” she heard Sabre shout. “I need you now!

“Roger that, boss!” Flint shouted. Twilight followed his voice just in time to see him stand up from behind an altar adorned with moon-and-star motifs. He grunted as he heaved a gun the size of his chest onto the altar, pointed all three of its barrels at the church’s front door, and pulled back the bolt on its side. “Suppressing fire! Hahahaha!” He gripped the trigger bit in his jaw and unleashed a barrage of rounds, laughing into the bit all the while.

It couldn’t be coincidence, Twilight decided. Either Flint or Sabre had to be the host of this dream. Perhaps even both of them shared it, trapped in the memory of an old battle. Was this why Flint hadn’t responded on the radio earlier? Had Sabre already followed Twilight in and succumbed to The Monster’s sleeping trance?

As if on cue, The Monster chose that moment to catch up. It crashed in through the roof, raining chunks of stone and splashes of blood on the ponies below. A chorus of alarmed shouts rang up among the soldiers, some cut short by falling rubble. The faceless all vanished in a puff of smoke as the soldiers adjusted their focus, lighting The Monster up with their tracers.

“What the hell is that thing?” somepony asked.

“It doesn’t matter!” Sabre barked. “Focus fire!”

The soldiers would never stand a chance. Figments of imagination couldn’t hope to fight back against a creature of dreams. They were barely even a speed bump.

Twilight teleported down onto the church floor, appearing in front of Sabre before she could leap into the fray. “Sea Sabre!”

“What?” Sabre paused, frowning at the mare that had flashed into being before her. “Get out of the way! That thing will kill you!”

“You’re dreaming!” Twilight said, grabbing the other mare’s shoulder. “Look around you! Where’re the soldiers you were just fighting? How did you get here?”

“Step aside, civilian!” Sabre grabbed Twilight’s hoof and twisted it, tossing her unceremoniously to the floor. She beat her wings, racing towards The Monster.

Twilight kicked up a thick cloud of dust as she hit the floor. She coughed, scrambling back to her hooves as a trio of soldiers crouched near her were cut down by a blade of floating blood. She looked up to The Monster just in time to see it lunge for Sabre. The pegasus let out a wet grunt as a tendril of blood punched through her chest barding, coming out on the other side before tossing her away.

“Sabre!” Flint dropped his weapon, rushing to his commander’s side. Twilight was close behind him.

“We can’t beat it.” Sabre coughed up blood, her eyes darting from one scene of carnage to another. She turned to focus on Flint. “Get the team out, soldier.”

“Flint, you’re dreaming!” Twilight said, erecting a shield around the trio. “Think about it! Where are we? How long have we been here?”

“Dreamin’ my ass!” Flint growled. He bent down, shoving Sabre onto his back as he rose his voice. “We’re fallin’ back, ponies! Protect the boss!”

The shouts of affirmation were worryingly sparse. There wasn’t even a dozen ponies left in the squad. Twilight flinched as a spray of fresh blood splashed against the shield right in front of her face. They had to get away fast, but the church didn’t lend many options. If she was in her own dream she would have just imagined an escape route up, but that wasn’t an option. Unless…

“Flint!” Twilight said, struggling to put as much command into her voice as she could. “Let’s leave through the tunnel! We can seal it behind us!”

“Good idea, Twilight.” He turned to the last living dregs of the squad as they fell back from The Monster. “C’mon, ye bastards!” he yelled hoarsely. “Ye want to leave me all alone?”

Any response was interrupted by a thick stream of blood vomited by The Monster as it flew past. The blood was boiling hot, steam rising to mist the air. The last survivors screamed as the thick fluid clung to their armor, cooking them alive.

“Damnit!” Flint cursed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck it all!”

“Flint,” Sabre said, voice faint. “The tunnel.”

Still cursing, Flint turned and kicked a rug away with a hoof. Twilight was certain that the rug hadn’t been there before, nor the trapdoor hidden beneath it. She reinforced her shield as The Monster flew full force into it, sending a painful jolt of feedback up Twilight’s horn. Cracks spiderwebbed around the impact before it burst into glowing purple shards.

“Hurry!” Twilight yelled. She yelped in alarm as she felt her hind leg being tugged behind her.

“Get in, get in!” Flint shouted.

Stars sprouted in Twilight’s sight as her head knocked against something hard. She heard the wooden thunk of the trapdoor closing, and felt Flint hastily pulling her along. There was a deep rumble and the sting of stone fragments against her side. Then silence.

When Twilight’s vision cleared, it was so dark that at first she wondered if she had gone blind. A trickle of magic proved otherwise as the purple glow of her horn illuminated a cramped stone tunnel. Sabre was leaning against the rocky wall, wheezing with every breath and cradling the wound in her chest. Flint stood solemnly in the center of the tunnel, looking into the darkness behind them.

“Is… is this it?” he asked.

Twilight looked behind her uncertainly. Heavy rocks blocked the path back to the church. “It… looks like it.”

Flint stomped a hoof against the ground, letting out a fearsome roar that held just as much sorrow as it did anger. “What th’ fuck was that!?”

“I… “ Twilight frowned. She didn’t feel like Flint would be open to explanations about dreams or illusions at the moment. The fact that Twilight’s escape plan had worked and Flint had recognized her showed that he was the host of the dream, and that gave him power she didn’t want to antagonize. “I don’t know.”

“The squad…” Sabre murmured, looking up. She paused to take a breath. “Survivors?”

“It’s just us, boss,” Flint said. He pivoted, bucking the wall hard enough to chip the stone. “It’s just fuckin’ us.”

Sabre closed her eyes. She shook her head slowly. “We should… keep moving… “

“Keep movin’ where?” Flint demanded. “This so-called tunnel’s a fuckin’ dead end! Just like that church!”

Twilight cleared her throat. “No it isn’t. The tunnel leads to someplace safe.”

“Oh, is that so smartass?” Flint asked. He stepped to the side of the tunnel, gesturing with a hoof. “Then be m’ fuckin’ guest.”

Twilight grimaced. She had been hoping he would just believe her and, in doing so, make her right. Why hadn’t he done that this time? She stepped past him gingerly, brightening her horn. The glow came to rest on a smooth wall of black brick and blue mortar that very cleanly blocked any path forwards. Twilight raised a hoof and passed it over the wall. It was cold to the touch.

“What is this?” she asked. “Was this here before…?”

“Hell if I know,” Flint grumbled. “Let’s just settle in n’ wait for th’ end already.”

Twilight pursed her lips. She’d seen a wall like this before, she was certain. It was a distant memory plucking at the edge of her thoughts. She remembered talking with Luna, walking with her in a dream. They spoke of mental barriers to keep out the unwanted and ways to pierce them. Then they had played a game where Luna let Twilight attempt to pierce her own mental walls. Twilight had failed utterly, of course. Princess Luna was a dreamwalker of literally inconceivable skill to every Equestrian.

The wall before her, made of obsidian and with signs of the finest craftsmareship, was one of Princess Luna’s very own mental barriers. There was no doubt in Twilight’s mind. But what was it doing here?

A deep rumble shook the tunnel. Pebbles and dust rained down on the three ponies as the earth settled.

“That thing’s still comin’ fer us,” Flint growled. “If we survive this, I might jus’ start goin’ t’ church.”

Sabre stirred, sitting up a little straighter and mumbling, “Flint… firing line…” before slumping over once more.

“Yeah, boss,” Flint said. He didn’t move.

“We can get out this way,” Twilight said. Her horn glowed as she pulled a spell from the depths of her memory.

It felt foreign to her mind. It was dream magic, which followed only the laws of lawless dreams. It was an entirely different beast from her usual fare, but Twilight’s memory didn’t fail her. A small orb of glittering starlight arced out of her horn and alighted in the center of the wall. The starlight brightened and stretched, taking on the form of an ornate door before dimming to the same polished obsidian of the rest of the wall.

Flint grunted. “Where does it go?”

Twilight opened the door with a hoof, revealing a shimmering field of shadows. “Out of here,” she said. And if I can guide us through, somewhere safe. “Bite my tail.”

“What?” Flint asked, shouldering Sabre’s weight once more. “Why?”

“It’s hard to explain,” Twilight said. Especially to someone that doesn’t know they’re dreaming. “It’s easy to… get lost. If we get separated, we might not see each other again.”

“Well fuck, I’ve got some rope fer that.” Flint twisted his neck back, pulling a length of rope out of his saddlebags and dropping it on the ground between them.

Twilight blinked. “Oh. Uh… that works too, actually.” Her horn glowed as she tied the rope around both of their barrels and knotted it securely. She didn’t give it much slack. The tunnel shook around them again, rumbling louder than before. “Follow me. Stay close.”

A cool breeze blew over Twilight as she crossed the threshold. Walls of obsidian brick outlined a narrow hallway just wide enough for two mares to walk abreast. Pale light came from the polished floor beneath her hooves, where the night sky shone upwards in a cloudless night. The hallway stretched forwards several more steps before branching off in two directions.

“What th’ fuck,” Flint mumbled, looking around behind her. “Wh—how did I get here? Where’s my dive suit? Twilight?” He cocked his head as if speaking into his radio. “Boss? Ye hearin’ me?”

“What’s the last thing you remember, Flint?” Twilight asked, leading him down the left branch of the hall. She looked back and saw that Sabre was nowhere to be seen—just a very confused Flint.

“We were on a dive,” he said. The starlight shining from below cast a ghostly shadow over his eyes. “Ye said ye felt somethin’, so we were goin’ through some rubble. Then… how did we get here?”

“We’re dreaming,” Twilight said. “There’s a monster chasing us—a creature of dreams—and we just left your dream.” She paused as a gentle grinding sound came from the hall ahead of her. The hall angled upwards, sprouting star-speckled stairs.

“Uh huh.” The pair trotted in silence for a few seconds before Flint added, “And where are we now then?”

“Princess Luna’s labyrinth,” Twilight explained. “If we can get through this, we’ll be able to enter her dream.” A hesitant smile crept onto her face.

“Y’know what?” Flint said. “I dunno what we’re doin’, what I’m doin’, but it seems ye got some idea. Just tell me what t’ do, and ye can tell me th’ details later.”

They turned a corner, the entrance coming into view. The open obsidian door waited patiently in front of them, the dark tunnel in Flint’s dream waiting on the other side.

“Weren’t we just here?” Flint asked.

Twilight nodded. “That’s right.” They had walked in a mostly straight line, without passing any other hallways. Twilight was very glad that she’d had some experience with Luna’s labyrinth before. “Now we turn around.”

Twilight turned to see an even more confused Flint. “Huh? But—” He looked behind him, his sentence falling short. “But we were just…”

The very same forked path that had greeted them when they first entered the labyrinth waited ahead of them. Twilight squeezed past the burly stallion, saying, “This is gonna be really confusing, Flint. You’ll just have to trust me.” She started for the left branch again.

“We already went this way, little mare,” Flint growled. “We should take th’ right path.”

“Trust me,” Twilight said. She glanced down at the night sky as she walked, checking to see if it had shifted. She was surprised the stars hadn’t started moving already. They had been twisting and turning almost constantly when she had tried navigating the labyrinth in the past.

Again they waited for the hall to raise into a stairway, and again they followed the same straight, unbranching path that somehow led them back to the entrance. Flint grumbled, but remained silent as Twilight once again led him down the left path, up the stairs, and straight to the entrance. This time, however, Twilight led the duo down the right branch. The path less traveled, she thought. It had taken her two days just to get past the first branch of the labyrinth in the past. Luna’s first puzzle.

If Twilight had gone this way before, it would have led straight back to the entrance. Both branches did, until one was taken three times more than the other. Only then would the path less traveled lead deeper into the maze. Or at least, it would if Luna’s defenses had remained the same since the last time Twilight tested them, so many centuries ago.

Twilight breathed a sigh of relief as the hall opened up into a wide circular chamber. Trails of night sky arched across its center and traced elaborate routes over the walls, illuminating the obsidian walls with their twinkling light.

“Wow.” Flint said. “That is… somethin’.”

A shrill scream pierced the quiet of the labyrinth, carried by a hot gust of wind with the stench of blood that rushed past from behind them. Twilight’s eyes widened as she looked back. “That thing followed us in here?”

“What thing?” Flint asked.

“Flint!” Twilight yelled, eyes roaming over the paths around her. “Help me find Polaris!”

“Don’t ye start yellin’ at me now!” Flint shouted. “What thing followed us? And who th’ hell is Polaris?”

“No time!” Twilight shot back. She grunted as she leapt up at a path of stars above them. Gravity shifted around her as she drew close, allowing her to stand on its surface upside down. “Polaris! It’s—the north star! Didn’t you ever pay attention in astronomy class?”

“Astronomy class?” Flint echoed incredulously below—or was it above?—her. “I was raised in a baronland!”

The stars began to pulse an ugly red as The Monster flew into the chamber, blood-wings spread wide. Flint cursed, already turning the barrel of his repeater onto its path. Hot lead pinged off the star paths as The Monster ducked and weaved around them.

“Aha!” Twilight grinned as she jumped from the path she was on to one running in a gentle curve along the wall. “Flint, I found Camelopardus!”

“Why won’t this damn thing die?” Flint roared. He grunted as The Monster slammed into him. The rope between them snapped, and he spiraled off the stars he stood on to land on a lower path with a thud. “At—at least slow down,” he coughed.

It only took Twilight a couple more seconds to locate the north star. Heart pounding, she poked her head over the edge of her path to see Flint wrestling with The Monster below. She gasped, horn glowing. Flint appeared—still yelling—at her side in a flash of purple light, warm blood soaked into the fur on his chest.

“Come on!” Twilight said, tugging the confused stallion behind her. “I think I found the way out!”

“How is that thing still alive?” Flint asked. “How am I still alive?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Twilight said as they galloped through a corkscrew twisting hallway of stars and obsidian. The Monster’s screeches echoed behind them. “I’ll explain once we’re safe.”

If we make it out of here. Twilight had gotten this far before. “If’t be true thee seeketh the exit to mine own labyrinth, Twilight Sparkle, the Lodestar shall mark thy path.” That was the hint Luna would always give her, only to laugh at her futile efforts as she made the stars dance across the paths. Twilight could never find the way through with the Princess interfering, and was still apprehensive that the stars would begin to run away from her any coming second.

Why are they staying so static? She glanced behind her, catching no sight of The Monster. For the first time it occurred to her that maybe the reason Luna wasn’t interfering was because Luna wasn’t even there. Maybe all that remained was an empty body, devoid of soul or thought to garrison its defenses. Maybe she’d been corrupted into some animal that no longer cared for such things. Or maybe she wasn’t interfering because she actually wanted Twilight to pierce her barriers.

The screech pierced the air, louder than ever before. Twilight looked back just in time to see The Monster burst out of the wall with the sound of shattering glass. It raced towards them on all fours, wings cramped against its shoulders in the tight confines of the hall.

“Fuck!” Flint shouted. “It’s got us!”

Twilight’s heart soared as she rounded the next corner. “Here! We’re almost there!” A door of smooth obsidian waited just a few seconds away, its surface decorated with softly glowing runes. She ripped the door open with her telekinesis, revealing a clear night sky.

“Don’t slow down!” Twilight called. “We should be safe once we’re through!”

“Ye ain’t got t’ tell me twice!” Flint shot back.

She threw herself over the threshold, and immediately felt the nauseating sensation of unexpected displacement. Reality twisted around her, the stars taking the shapes of a peaceful landscape. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a brilliant pale light over the world, framed by the watchful bulk of distant mountains. Mushrooms of every size—some as small as her hoof, some larger than a home—outlined rolling green hills with the gentle glow of their caps. Twilight and Flint were standing on the edge of a deep depression between the hills, looking out over a lake with a surface as calm as glass. A small, curving island coated in hanging mosses was the only thing to disturb the lake, spotlighted by the giant, glowing pink leaves of the single tree that grew on it. And curled up beneath the petals of a single protective flower, on a plain wooden bed, slept Princess Luna.

Twilight’s jaw dropped. She took a tentative step forwards, a strangled “P-Princess?” escaping her throat.

Flint stepped in front of her. “Focus, little mare. That thing might still be on us,” he said, scanning the horizon.

“This is Princess Luna’s personal sanctum,” Twilight said. She blinked as she realized the rope that had been tethering her to Flint was missing. “I think if it could get in here, it already would have.”

“Well…” Flint frowned, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. “I guess ye’d know better than me.”

Twilight nodded, an eager grin plastered across her face. “Let’s go see if we can talk to the Princess.”

Before Flint could respond, he was interrupted by a shrill tearing sound unlike anything Twilight had heard before. It seemed to originate right between her ears, like some manic god ripping a thousand books in half inside her skull. She cried out, clutching her ears and curling up on the ground in a vain attempt to keep the offending sound out, to no avail.

It passed in an instant, leaving Twilight lying dazed in the grass. When she regained her senses, she became aware of a sickly red light to her left, and turned to find the source. A gasp escaped her lips as she saw the blood red moon hovering over the horizon, opposite from the pale moon which still shone like a small sun to her right.

“Or maybe ye don’t.” Flint growled. He crouched down, kicking at a lever on his battle armor. Steam hissed from the shoulder as his repeater reloaded before angling back into place. “Ye got a plan, or do ye just want me t’ shoot it till ye poof me again?”

Twilight didn’t answer. She had gone pale as she recognized the equine shape flying towards them, silhouetted by the blood moon’s light. It was The Monster. Of course it had followed them. It couldn’t get through Luna’s barriers, but Twilight had led it straight to her doorstep. I let some beast into Princess Luna’s safe haven! Stupid Twilight! Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

The Monster hurtled towards them, blood wings spread wide. The plants died in its wake, the clear night sky succumbing to angry black clouds.

“We have to get to the Princess!” Twilight yelled, horn glowing. “Get ready for a fight!”

“I’m always ready fer a fight,” Flint growled.

In a spark of purple, Twilight teleported them both onto the island. Or she tried to. She felt a powerful resistance at the last moment, too strong to overcome and too late to stop herself. The two ponies re-appeared along the edges of the lake, splashing down into the shallow water running between the mushroom towers.

“Th’ fuck!” Flint shouted. “Is this where ye meant t’ put us?”

“No!” Twilight shot back. She leapt into the water without hesitation, pushing herself towards the island with hooves and horn alike. The surface of the water remained eerily still even as she swam through it. “We have to swim!”

“Twilight,” Flint said. “Yer not movin’.”

“What?” Twilight looked back. Despair swelled in her breast as she realized that she hadn’t gotten any further from the shore. The dream’s reality was warping around her, keeping her from getting any closer to the sleeping Princess. “No! Luna! Wake up! You’re in danger!”

The Monster was just seconds away now. Through her teary-eyed panic Twilight could see its hungry gaze locked on Luna’s slumbering form. Its tongue flicked out and licked at its lips, leaving a trail of blood.

There was a sudden distortion directly above Luna. Where once there was just a starry sky, there was now something more. Twilight’s eye was drawn to the object, and it took her a few seconds to realize that it was as if a section of sky had suddenly begun to move.

The piece of living sky flew lower to the ground, taking on recognizable form as the mountains in the background provided contrast. It was an equine shape, tall and elegant as Luna, its entire body reflecting the night sky so perfectly that it was impossible to pick out where it started or ended against the backdrop of the stars. It came to a stop high above Luna’s island, facing down The Monster with an impassive, featureless stare.

Twilight held her breath as she watched The Monster pull up short. It hissed at the new challenger, spraying bloody spittle down onto the still waters below.

The Defender’s horn lit up, the night sky seeming to twist around its tip. A lance of twinkling night time shot out of its horn, aimed for The Monster’s heart.

The Monster raised a shield of blood, deflecting the magical attack. Twilight watched with wide eyes as the two dream creatures clashed, bending the dream’s reality around them. The Monster flew furiously around its opponent, darting in to land vicious strikes with its limbs, while The Defender kept its distance, opting for lances of energy. Wherever they went, the dream’s peaceful landscape was distorted. Plants died, grew huge, or simply walked away. The night sky twisted into colors both obscene and wonderful. The mountains looped back onto themselves and took flight. The only constant was the small lake and the island at its center, a cradle of stability with Princess Luna nestled inside.

“We need to get out of here,” Twilight said. She turned to where Luna slept, heart yearning to be able to reach her. “It isn’t safe… We’ll come back for her.”

“Ye ye, just hurry it up,” Flint said.

Twilight closed her eyes, extending her senses into the dream. It was a wild place, the fabric all at once endlessly changing yet totally still. She could feel the oppressive will that had been trapping her in this place lightening, directing its focus elsewhere. The two dream creatures seemed evenly matched, locked in stalemate. Perhaps The Monster doesn’t have the energy to spare keeping us asleep anymore?

“I’m waking you up first,” Twilight said. “We shouldn’t have lost much time in the waking world. Raise Sabre on the radio and keep her from using any explosives. Princess Luna herself must be nearby, and we can’t risk harming her.”

“Eh, right,” Flint said. “I can do that.”

Her horn sparkled. When Twilight opened her eyes, Flint was nowhere to be seen. With a flourish of her horn, she found the hole she had punched in Luna’s barriers and sealed it once more. She sighed, her gaze lingering over Luna’s slumbering form. She didn’t want to leave her here with those two creatures fighting over her resting place, but she couldn’t leave them free to roam.

“I’ve got you, Princess,” she whispered. “I’ll save you.”

Twilight’s eyes fluttered open.

She was lying on her side. The gentle rumble of the ocean filled the confines of her helmet. The beam of her helmet-borne flashlight wavered before her, reflecting the swirling paths of dust drifting down to the floor.

Some strange aspect of exhaustion had settled over her. She felt as if she had ran a hundred kilometers without rest, and then slept uninterrupted for a day. The comfortable ache of exercise filled her limbs, and yet they moved with no complaint when she picked herself up from the floor. Her mind was quick and clear, her heart beating a slow, steady rhythm. She took a deep breath, and experienced a deep, relaxed ease that she had forgotten was even possible.

She became aware of a voice crackling over the radio. It took her a moment to recognize it as Sea Sabre.

“We’re sending out the torpedo,” the mare was saying. “If you can hear me, stay away from the blast zone! Trails, get ready to—”

Flint’s voice cut her off with a burst of static. “Wait, boss. We’re alright.”

“Is Twilight there?” Rainbow’s voice asked. “Twilight! Can you hear me?”

It was at that point that Twilight realized some response was expected of her. She adjusted her position, thinking of how comfortable her armor was feeling just then. “I’m fine, Rainbow. Don’t worry about me.”

A clamor of voices came over the radio. Sabre’s stern voice was the only one to come out clear to Twilight’s ears. “What happened?”

“Dream creature. Maybe even two of them,” Twilight said. She yawned, sitting up off the ground. “They induced us to sleep and then trapped us in nightmares. I don’t think they’re a threat anymore.” She looked up thoughtfully. “Oh, also, we saw Princess Luna.”

“What?” Rainbow asked. “The Princess is down there? I’m going down there! Shy, give me your helmet!”

“Princess Luna?” Star Trails asked, her voice laced with awe. “Is she… alive?”

“We didn’t actually see her body,” Twilight added. “Just her dream self.”

“So what are you telling me?” Sabre asked tersely.

“Just give us some time,” Twilight said. “I don’t want to risk a torpedo hurting her, and we should be safe now. Let us look around.”

Fluttershy’s soft voice was barely audible. “Be careful, Twilight.”

“Head on a swivel, Flint,” Sabre said. “I want to know exactly what’s going on in there.”

“Got it, boss.”

It was easy to find Flint in the darkness. The burly stallion was standing just a couple meters to her right, peering at the dark shapes all around them. Twilight stood up, stretching the stiffness out of her legs. She narrowed her eyes as she turned in a slow circle, lips curving into a thoughtful frown. The flashlight had given her glimpses of her surroundings, but she needed a more complete picture.

She tapped her magic and was surprised to find her arcane reserves completely replenished. Hrm. Interesting. With a thought she summoned an orb of purple light, pushed a surge of magic into it, and settled it in place far above her.

“Ah, hell,” Flint said.

Twilight’s frown twisted into a grimace at the macabre sight before her. The flashlight had previously outlined many small, rounded shapes that she had taken for piles of weathered rock or the rubble remains of statues. The glow of the orb above cast the shapes into much more vivid detail.

The first description that came to Twilight’s mind was a mass grave. It was true that there was plenty of rubble—indeed, nearly half of the columns which had originally held up the roof were now gone, sections of wall had entirely collapsed, and the few remaining tapestries were worn beyond any semblance of recognition. Beyond the crumbled remains of the architecture, however, was a scattered collection of dozens of pony bodies.

They covered the floor with their bulk—some curled up alone, others bundled into small groups as many as three or four. In some places Twilight would barely be able to walk without tripping over bodies, but even at their thinnest she could only take a few good steps between each one.

She walked among them, peering down at the corpses with idle curiosity. Most were long-dead skeletons, their waterlogged bones and scraps of tattered clothing all that remained. Many she recognized as more animal than pony, sporting the mutated tails of seaponies or entirely different body shapes. She paused at these corpses longer than others, examining their unusual skeletal structure and idly wishing for some kind of waterproof notepad. She recognized families huddling together in their final moments and Royal Guards curled around their spears. A few of the bodies were more recent, completely encased behind variations of the steam-powered clockwork armor that she herself wore. Despite the variety, there was one aspect they all shared: There were barely any signs of trauma. She didn’t have much of a medical background, but to Twilight it seemed as if all these ponies had merely laid down and died.

“This is creepy as fuck,” Flint said, passing by her. “Th’ whole place is filled with bodies, boss. It’s th’ cleanest damn grave I’ve ever seen. Like they all jus’ fell asleep.”

“It must be those dream creatures,” Twilight said, looking closer at the shriveled corpse of a Royal Guard. “They’re inducing a coma in anything that wanders in, then feed on their dreams until they die.” I wonder if there’s any side effects? she thought as she calmly examined old wounds marked in the guard’s bones.

“Poor bastards,” Flint grumbled.

“Uh, are they still there?” Trails asked. “Am I gonna find myself having a nightmare about Flint’s cooking or something?”

Twilight shook her head, ignoring Flint’s grumbled response. “They’re both fighting each other in Princess Luna’s mind. I don’t think either is strong enough to defeat the other, but if they do… well, I doubt either will be able to escape the mind of the legendary Lady of the Night.”

“But what if they hurt Luna?” Fluttershy asked. “I hope she’s not in any danger.”

“She… shouldn’t be,” Twilight answered, inspecting a seapony body. Her eyes widened as she noticed a very slight rise and fall to its chest. Is it still alive? “Luna’s defenses are formidable. And I already have plans to study her condition once we get her somewhere safe.”

“Twilight,” Flint said. “Is this yer princess?”

Twilight turned, quickly finding where Flint stood on a raised dais at the very center of the chamber. She activated the airjets on her armor, closing the distance with two quick jumps. She climbed the steps to the dais with bated breath, coming up to Flint’s side.

Atop the dais was a frame of chipped obsidian carved into a gently curving waning moon. Star-shaped lapis lazuli adorned the frame’s outer surface, placed in patterns reflecting constellations Twilight recognized as Luna’s favorite works. Nestled inside the moon, atop a faded cushion long-devoid of its stuffing, submerged at the bottom of a drowned world, slept Princess Luna.

“Princess!” Twilight rushed towards the comatose alicorn, tears budding in her eyes. She collapsed at the Princess’s side with a hoof outstretched, uncertain as to whether it would be wise to touch her. She seemed so peaceful, her side rising and falling at a glacial pace. She was adorned in the same pale blue armor once worn by Nightmare Moon, but otherwise showed no signs of injury, whether from past wounds or the pressure of the ocean above. A chill ran down Twilight’s spine as she spotted the trail of red tears running down Luna’s cheeks.

“I’m… guessin’ that’s her, then,” Flint said. His voice was uncharacteristically quiet. “Huh.”

Rainbow’s voice was clear over the radio. “You found the Princess?”

“We found her, Rainbow,” Twilight said. Tears fogged her visor as she fell over the slumbering alicorn, hugging her tightly with armored hooves. “We found her.”

Gava clacked her beak in irritation. “I swear to fuck, if she breaks out again I’m personally eating all of you.”

“Stronger than anypony there is,” Topgallant mused by her side. “Told ya.”

One of the stallions inside the cell in front of them yelped as he was thrown into the bars with a painful crack. Gava sighed.

The pair stood in the brig of her ship, watching a half-dozen hirelings struggle to subdue a single orange earth mare. Sea Sabre’s ship—the Argo, Gava thought it was called—could be seen out the nearest window bobbing gently in the waves.

“Get offa me ya no-good varmints!” the prisoner inside the cell seethed. She kicked and bucked furiously, fending off the small squad of Gava’s hirelings. It was a valiant effort, but they managed to pin her beneath them with only one more groaning casualty. “There’ll be a reckonin’ for y’all! Just ya wait till I get outta these chains and introduce y’all to Bucks McGillicutty and Kicks McGee!”

“What?” Topgallant chuckled. “What the hell?”

“Three chains this time,” Gava commanded.

“But ma’am,” a panting mare putting all her weight on one of the prisoner’s forelegs said, “She only broke out of a single chain. Surely just two would do?”

“What are you, my fucking quartermaster?” Gava snapped. “Three chains!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

The prisoner grunted as she tried to break free once more, but to no avail. After far too long spent running the chains around her limbs and securing them to each other, the battered hirelings took their injured in tow and left to nurse their wounds.

The prisoner glared up at Gava with hard green eyes. “What’re y’all even doin’ this for, huh? What’d I ever do to you?”

Topgallant shrugged. “Well, you existed. So there’s that.”

“We’re not explaining ourselves to you,” Gava said as she entered the cell. “If you break out again, I’m sticking you in a barrel and wrapping it in chains.”

“Guess y’all’re too much of a coward to get close when I ain’t trussed up like a hay bale before a hurricane, huh?” the prisoner snarked.

“What?” Topgallant snickered back in the hall. “How do you come up with that?”

Gava rolled her eyes as she grabbed the prisoner by the chain wrapped around her neck. “Look, I could kill you with both hands tied behind my back, but I want you alive. Come along, now.” She tugged at the chain, clacking her beak again as the prisoner dug her hooves into the floor.

“Ah ain’t budgin’.”

“Fine, then,” Gava growled. “We’ll do it the hard way.”

“So, this is her?” Trails asked.

“This is her,” Twilight said.

She was seated on the floor in the back of the submarine, relishing the feel of the air against her bare coat. Fluttershy was sitting in the corner to her left, and Rainbow to her right. Trails stood across from her, looking down open-mouthed at where Princess Luna slept between the four of them.

“I… didn’t really think she was real.”

“Seriously?” Rainbow asked, gesturing with a hoof. “She’s a Princess! How can you even not believe in a Princess?”

“Rainbow,” Fluttershy admonished softly. “Manners.”

“It’s different for them, Rainbow,” Twilight said, horn gently glowing as she cast some simple diagnostic spells. “The Princesses haven’t been around to help ponies for centuries.”

Trails shrugged. “Of course the spiritual types are always talking about the Princesses watching over us, going to church, some of them burn sacrifices or throw them into the ocean. But I haven’t ever put much stock into that. None of us do.”

Twilight thought back to Flint’s dream. He had been defending a church—clearly one devoted to Luna, now that she thought of it. How much of that dream had been based on a real memory? Had The Monster created a nightmare, or had it just exploited a dark memory of Flint losing over a dozen friends in a place supposedly under Luna’s watch?

“I guess it would be kinda hard to for you guys, wouldn’t it?” Rainbow asked. “Coming down here all the time and seeing all the… well, everything Equestria has lost.”

“That’s definitely part of it,” Trails admitted. “And I guess I’ve never been the sort of mare to take something like that at somepony’s word.”

Flint poked his head into view, clearing his throat. “We’re just a few minutes out from th’ ship.”

Trails nodded, keeping her gaze fixed on the sleeping Princess. “We’ll be ready.”

Five minutes later, Twilight was crossing the sub’s port-side ramp, Luna carefully levitated in front of her. The wind of the Argo’s engines pulled at her mane—though, she noted, Luna’s mane was still flowing as if in a gentle autumn breeze.

Sea Sabre was waiting by the hatch when she boarded. “We need to stop off for repairs and resupply.”

“That’s fine with me,” Twilight said, stepping aside so her friends could board. “I want some time to study her condition anyways. If I can just get her to wake up… “

“We still need to be careful of Gava,” Sabre said. “And any other bounty hunters, for that matter. We’ll only become an even bigger target if word gets out what we found.”

“Well, speak of the devil!”

Twilight didn’t recognize the voice that spoke behind her, but the alarm in Sabre’s eyes was more than enough to make her heart skip a beat. She snapped her head around, quickly spotting the griffon leaning against the bulkhead at the end of the hall.

“Gava!” Sabre barked, confirming Twilight’s fears. “Get back, Twilight!”

Twilight took a step behind the pegasus, keeping Luna close at her side. At the same time, Fluttershy and Rainbow stepped off the sub.

“Is that an alicorn?” Gava called. She was smiling, her tone conversational. “You’re really making a name for yourself in the new business, Sabre. Hey there, dyejob.”

“You!” Rainbow snarled, causing Fluttershy to squeak in alarm. She lowered herself to the ground, wings flaring. “You looking for another thrashing?”

“I wouldn’t call our last meeting a thrashing,” Gava said. “At least, not for me.”

“Trails, Flint,” Sabre said, speaking into her earpiece. “Gava is aboard the ship. Drop what you’re doing and get up here!”

“Hey, I’m not looking for a fight,” Gava said. She held a talon up to her eyes, making a show of inspecting it. “Just give me the Gifted, and I’ll be out of your tail.”

“Shut it, chump!” Rainbow snapped. “We’re not going anywhere with you! Give me one reason not to knock your beak in!”

Fluttershy was huddled behind a bulkhead, shivering. Twilight set Luna down behind one as well, her mind reviewing her sparse selection of combat spells. Sea Sabre said nothing. She kept her gaze fixed on Gava, her hooves spread apart.

“Yep, that’s about what I expected,” Gava said. “Top!” The door behind her opened with a hiss of steam.

Twilight gasped. “Applejack!”

Applejack growled at the blue-coated stallion that pushed her into Gava’s waiting arm. Her legs were restrained by three layers of padlocked chains from top to bottom, and a rag was taped over her mouth as a gag. She looked bruised and dirty, her hat nowhere to be seen, but her eyes were filled with determination. A trio of ponies in mismatched armor stood in the doorway, bearing guns, clubs, and heavy shoes.

Gava grabbed Applejack in one hand, holding the mare in front of her. With her other hand she raised a single sharp talon up to her prisoner’s neck. “Surrender, or your friend dies.”

“You wouldn’t,” Sabre said. “She’s worth too much to you.”

“Do the math, Sabre. One of these Gifted for at least three more? And a fucking alicorn?” Gava chuckled. “I can only spend so much money. Fuck, I’d even kill two of them!”

Rainbow scratched a hoof against the floor. Her nostrils flared as she stared daggers at the griffon. “If you hurt a single hair on her head… “

“It’s probably too late for that, to be honest,” Gava said. “Let me tell ya, this cowpony is not easy to wrangle.”

Twilight grimaced as she saw Rainbow’s body tense. She took a ginger step forwards, whispering, “Rainbow, please don’t do anything brash!”

Rainbow didn’t even look back. “She’s got AJ. She hurt her. Nobody does that to my friends!” she hissed.

“She’ll kill her!” Twilight shot back.

Rainbow scoffed. “Please, Twilight. I’m the fastest pegasus in Equestria. I’m not gonna let some birdbrain hurt my friend.”

“By the way,” Gava added. “I’m not gonna sit around all day and let your two squaddies arm up, Sabre. If I don’t get an answer soon then I’m assuming it’s a no.”

“Rainbow!” Twilight hissed. “Please, just—”

She flinched as the blast of wind from Rainbow’s wings smacked into her face, and several things happened all at once.

Author's Note

So what's faster? The fastest pegasus in Equestria, or the talon of a veteran griffon mercenary?

Join the EH Discord!

XIV: The Prey

Sweet flaming fucks!

Gava had seen the intent in the rainbow pegasus’s eyes, and still she was taken by surprise. She was already drawing a talon across her prisoner’s throat when a polychromatic flash crossed the distance between them. The warmth of blood on her talons was lost amidst the thud of impact. She tumbled backwards with the snarling blue missile, her body reacting without thought, and found herself locked in a grapple with Rainbow Dash.

“I’m gonna beat you to a bloody pulp!” Rainbow screamed, wings beating at the air in an effort to come out on top. “You’ll be lucky to have a single black feather left!”

“Take them out!” Gava shouted, not looking away. She would trust Topgallant to carry out her orders as she focused on the pegasus. She pushed off with a leg, using her weightier stature to flip the enraged pegasus onto her back. Lavender light flashed in the corner of her eye.

Rainbow was too fast. She slipped out of Gava’s grip with a twitch of her wings, twisting in the air to deliver a spinning kick to her side. Gava grunted, staggering sideways. Little bird’s got some strength in her. She heard the steam of the door opening at the far end of the hall. The door she had put her gatling gun team behind. I can’t get caught in my own crossfire.

She twisted around Rainbow’s wild lunge, slapping the pegasus in the muzzle with her tail. “Too slow, dyejob!” She pushed herself down the hall with a flap of her wings, soaring over Topgallant and a trio of hirelings as they ducked in alarm. “Keep them busy! I’ll handle the crazy one!”

Top barely had time to nod his understanding before she was past him. “Got it!”

Rainbow’s enraged voice chased her around a corner as she landed running. “Get back here, you jerk!”

Gava didn’t have to look back to know the pegasus would give chase. Her beak twisted into a predatory grin. This was a game she was more than willing to play.

“Rainbow! No!”

She didn’t listen, of course. The polychromatic blur of Rainbow’s wake was all the pegasus left behind as she launched herself after Gava.

It had all happened so fast. Had it even been thirty seconds ago that Twilight was making research plans for Princess Luna’s condition? The adrenaline in her veins muddied her memories and brought her senses into surreal clarity. The red splash of blood, and the purple flash of her panicked teleport spell. Applejack’s weight in her hooves. Sea Sabre’s shouts for a shield. The deep thud-thud-thud in her bones from the gatling gun that had been waiting on the other side of the door behind them. It was an apocalypse in miniature, no less world-shattering for its lack of scale.

“Twilight? Listen to me, sugar cube!” Applejack’s voice was distant in her ears. All Twilight could see was the spreading red stain soaked into the orange fur of her neck. “Twilight, snap outta it!”

Her horn was tingling. Twilight blinked, seeing for the first time the purple wall of magic she had erected around herself and her friends. Her sight focused on the pair of ponies operating the gatling gun at the back end of the hall, pouring a hail of bullets into her shield.

Anger flared in her breast. How dare they threaten my friends! In the next instant her horn was glowing with power, her vision tinged purple with the arcane energy crashing through her. They’ll pay for their insolence! A thousand macabre ideas competed for dominance, drowning out the voices of the ponies around her. She saw skin rent from crying flesh, blood vessels burst behind the useless protection of broken bones, throats crying out in vain for the scraps of mercy she would refuse to give—

No! Twilight shaped the magic into a hasty teleportation spell, rushing to push it all out of her before the madness took hold once more. The gatling gun vanished in a flash of purple, reappearing in the open air outside the ship. It tumbled down into the ocean, its former operators blinking in confusion at the empty space where their weapon had once been.

Awareness rushed back to her all at once. Twilight sucked in a deep breath, mind reeling. What was that? I could’ve—

“Twilight, the shield!”

Sabre’s voice pulled Twilight back to the present. She looked around, realizing that her frantic effort to push all the magic out of her had also dispelled her shield. The gatling gun was gone, but she and her friends were now surrounded by two advancing gangs of roughshod thugs wielding heavy shoes and armored wings.

“I—I can’t!” Twilight lied. Of course she could muster another shield. But she didn’t dare to touch her magic again so soon. Not after the terrible images that had just filled her mind.

“S’alright, Twi,” Applejack said, picking herself up off the ground. She pulled a bloodstained hoof away from the red gash on the side of her neck, grimacing at the hoof before scraping it against the metal floor. “I reckon y’all’ve done y’all’s part.”

“Girls…” Fluttershy whispered from the bulkhead corner she had pushed herself back into. “I-I’m s-scared…”

Sabre squared herself in the center of the hall, flaring her wings before the first group of thugs. The sunlight filtering through the windows cast a cold gleam over her blades. “This is your last chance to turn back,” she said. “You can take back a lot of things, but missing limbs isn’t one of them.”

The broad-chested mare at the front of the gang snickered. “Y’know Sabre, I’ve heard a lot about you, but none of the stories ever mention just how small you are.”

On the opposite side, Applejack faced off against a group of five burly earth ponies. Her mouth twisted into a scowl as she picked one out from the back. “Hey, I recognize you!” Her nostrils flared, her body steady even with the wound on her neck. “Y’all were one of the ponies from my cell!”

The stallion flinched. He ducked down as if to hide. “W-what about it?”

Applejack took a step forwards. The opposing gang took a collective step back.

“Y’all wouldn’t happen to know where my hat is, would ya?”

Gava soared through the halls of the Argo with casual grace, listening to the sounds of battle that echoed through the ship. The thunks of brawling hooves and singing of slicing steel told her that Topgallant’s force had finally engaged Sea Sabre and the unknown Gifted. From the other side of the ship she could hear the combination of erratic repeater fire, shouted threats, and the precise crack of a rifle—Drift Eye and his hirelings were still fighting with Flintlock and Star Trails. She couldn’t hear the deep thunder of the gatling gun she had bought. Had it been taken out so quickly?

It wasn’t the first time she had fought with Sabre. They had clashed before, and fought together on occasion. The pegasus had her beat when it came to tactics, but her aversion to sacrifice had cost her battles before. Gava had been hoping to finish the fight before it started by taking her precious crew hostage, but Rainbow Dash’s incredible combination of stupidity and speed had taken her off guard. Things were messier than she liked, and she needed to get them back under control.

She glanced behind her. The hall was empty. “You still there, dyejob?”

“Right here!”

For the second time that day, Gava experienced the sensation of being tackled by Rainbow Dash. The breath was driven from her lungs as the pegasus barreled into her chest, slamming her into the floor hard enough to dent it. Gava rolled, tossing the pegasus off of her, and picked herself up from the ground.

“What the hell!” Gava said, holding a talon to her chest as she caught her breath. “You were just behind me!”

“And now I’m just in front of you!” Rainbow snarled. She hovered in the center of the hall, forelegs up. “You done running yet, chump?”

Gava eyed her surroundings. “Not just yet.” She pushed off, slamming through a nearby door. To her relief, it led to a small workshop. Tools and half-completed projects littered a long workbench flanked by cabinets full of supplies. This will do just fine.

“Ugh, stop running!” Rainbow howled.

“Stop chasing,” Gava shot back. She stepped away from the door just as Rainbow raced through it, deftly avoiding a third tackle.

“I have you now, Gava,” Rainbow said, hovering in the doorway. “There’s nowhere to run.”

“Yep.” Gava’s beak twisted into a predatory grin. “Nowhere to fly, either.”

Rainbow cocked her head. “Huh?”

Gava was on her in an instant, darting forwards for a tackle. Rainbow’s eyes widened as she twisted around the griffon, sliding around her with a quick flutter of her wings.

Gotcha. Gava lashed out with a paw, catching the pegasus square in the chest. Rainbow gasped as she was thrown back against the far wall and slammed into the workbench, tools clattering to the floor around her.

“Y’know,” Gava said, turning to face the groaning mare. “You should really think before chasing your prey into a closed space.” She took a couple steps forwards, blocking Rainbow in with her impressive wingspan. “It makes it difficult to run when things turn sour.”

“Why—hrk!” Rainbow grunted as she pulled herself up to her hooves. “Why would I run from you?”

Gava chuckled. “How about you come and let me show you, dyejob?”

“Stop calling me that!”

Rainbow launched herself forwards, but Gava was ready this time. She sidestepped the wild charge, hooking a claw under Rainbow’s leading hooves and flipping her back onto the ground. In the same motion Gava pounced on the pegasus, pinning her beneath her bulk.

“My, my, are you getting déjà vu?” Gava’s grin stretched wider as she felt the warm blood on her talons. “I do believe we’ve been here before.”

“Get off!” Rainbow twisted her body, loosening Gava’s grip with heavy flaps of her wings. She slipped out from under her, spinning in mid-air to deliver a powerful buck to the griffon’s side.

Gava rolled with the blow, bouncing back to her talons. She clacked her beak at the pegasus, her grin replaced with a fearsome snarl. “You learn new tricks, dyejob?”

“Pfft!” Rainbow tossed her mane, grinning as if she was posing for a crowd of adoring fans. “I’ve got a black belt, y’know! You took me by surprise, last time, but I’m ready for you this time! Whoa!”

Gava lashed out with her talons, slicing through empty air as the pegasus ducked beneath the swipe. She followed it with an onslaught of talon strikes and kicks, each coming from a different direction. Rainbow danced around each one with quick flutters of her wings, slipping out of reach before darting in for razor-fast punches and kicks.

Gava had been here before. She’d fought pegasi trained in Krav Pega in the past—Sea Sabre herself was a skilled pupil of the style—but Rainbow’s moves were sloppy, effective more due to her unnatural speed and reflexes than real skill. She lashed out with wild blows contrary to the precise nature of the pegasus martial art. Perhaps she was using an archaic form, or simply out of practice? Whatever the reason, Gava’s usual strategy wasn’t working. As much as it bothered her to admit, the pegasus was just too fast for her to fight like any other. She’d have to do something unexpected. Something that an obvious rookie like Rainbow Dash would never see coming.

Gava feinted high, luring the pegasus into a swooping kick. She bore the force of the kick with a grunt, catching the outstretched hoof and taking the fight to the ground. After a brief scuffle, Gava’s weight came out on top once more.

“Say, did they have pirate stories in the past?” Gava asked, struggling to hold the pegasus down.

“What’re you getting at, birdbrain?” Rainbow snarled. She reared her head back and thrust it forwards.

Gava’s beak stretched open. Rather than dodge the headbutt, she angled her head to the side, darting in.

Rainbow’s scream echoed through the halls like the music of success.

“What did you do?” Rainbow cried. Gava stepped off of her, and the pegasus’s hooves raced to the blood spurting from her face. “Where’d you go?”

“I’m right in front of you,” Gava said. She tilted her head back, tossing Rainbow’s eye up into the air and catching it in her beak. She swallowed, relishing the taste of a good hunt. “Come and get me.”

Rainbow stumbled off the floor, one hoof still clutching at her face. She tripped towards Gava, throwing a weak punch that was easily sidestepped. The pegasus collapsed, curling up into a shaky ball.

“I… I can’t see…”

“Don’t worry, the blood will clear up soon enough,” Gava said, pulling rope out of her satchel. “You’ll have some depth perception issues, but that shouldn’t be a big deal for a confident flyer like yourself.”

“What… what did you do…?”

“I ate your eye, dyejob!” Gava’s tongue darted out, licking at the blood smeared on her beak. “How have you not figured that out?”

“W-what?”

“Your eye!” Gava repeated. She shook her head as she fastened the limp pegasus’s limbs with the rope. “There’s no sense in playing deaf. I know what I ate, and it wasn’t an ear. They taste terrible.”

Rainbow shivered, but offered no resistance. “Y-you’re a monster.”

“We’re all monsters, kid,” Gava said. “Unlike ponies, I don’t have to pretend. C’mon, on your hooves.”

Rainbow didn’t respond. Gava sighed. Guess I can’t really blame her. She bent down and rolled the pegasus onto her back.

“No! No no no! Get away from me!”

“Get back here, ya yellow-bellied rascal!” Applejack growled, bounding after the fleeing stallion. “I want my hat!”

“Applejack, wait!” Twilight put a hoof over the earth mare’s chest, holding her back from the chase. “We need to find Rainbow first!”

Applejack grimaced as she watched the stallion disappear around a corner. She looked around her at the groaning ponies sprawled against the walls, each sporting their own selection of bruises and limp limbs. “Shoot. Y’all’re right, Twi. It ain’t like that filly to take so long doin’ anythin’.”

Twilight nodded, her nose cringing as she looked back. “Sabre?”

Sabre’s side of the hall was a grotesque mess of blood and severed limbs. The bloodstained pegasus stood in the center of it all like some winged demon, puddles of red pooling beneath her dripping wings. She shook each wing twice, casting off most of the blood with a practiced motion, and looked back.

“Flint and Trails are doing fine on their side,” she said. Her ear twitched as she listened to the radio earpiece inside. “Gava’s survivors are pulling back. No signs of Dusty, Sunfeather, or Rainbow so far.”

“How can you stand all… that?” Twilight asked, shivering. The atrocious smell brought back memories of the magically preserved scene of gore that had been waiting for her in her old home. Those ponies had screamed so loud as Sabre cut through them, and yet the ones that hadn’t been wise enough to flee were now so silent.

“I gave them their chance,” Sabre said, trailing blood as she started down the hall.

“Th-they were—you…” Fluttershy stared with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open. “You k-killed them.”

Sabre ignored the mare. “We can’t waste time. We need to find our missing crew before Gava makes off with them.”

“Any idea where they might be?” Applejack screwed her nose up as she gingerly stepped around the corpses to follow.

“Her ship must be close,” Sabre said. “They should be heading towards the aft to board through the cargo door.”

Motion in the corner of Twilight’s eye caught her attention. Her blood ran cold as she turned to see an unfamiliar ship with an exotic flowing design through a window, angling its sails to pull away. And visible on the deck—painted red with the light of the setting sun—was a griffon with a shockingly rainbow-maned pegasus tied up on her back.

“Rainbow!” Twilight ran up to the window, rearing up to place her hooves on its cold surface. She turned back to Sabre. “They’re getting away!”

An uncharacteristic scowl graced Sabre’s face as she raised a hoof to her earpiece. “Trails! You’ve flown airships before, right?”

“We ain’t got time for none of that!” Applejack said. “Y’all got any guns on this thing?”

No time. Twilight grit her teeth, her legs shaking. She didn’t have a choice. If she didn’t act now, there was no telling when or if she’d see Rainbow again. Her friends were counting on her. It was worth the risk. And every second she waited, that ship was getting further and further away.

“Applejack, Sabre, stay close to me,” she said. A lavender glow sparked up her horn. “Fluttershy, stay back.” You’ve seen enough already.

“W-what are y-you doing?” Fluttershy asked, shuffling backwards.

Twilight gave her a hopeful smile. “We’re going on a rescue mission.”

Gava frowned as she saw a flash of lavender behind her, barely visible in the red light of sundown. She turned away from the receding silhouette of the Argo to find a trio of familiar ponies standing in the middle of the deck.

“What’s this?” Gava asked, the rest of her body turning to face the intruders. “You want to cut a deal, Sabre? Two bounties for your two crewmembers? Cause I’ll take it.”

The purple unicorn stepped forwards, ignoring the sparse crowd of hirelings that had begun backing away from the little group. “No deal. Give us back our friends! Or—or else!”

“Hold that thought.” Gava looked around, spotting Drift Eye further up the deck. He was crouched down behind a crate, the barrel of his long rifle resting on its edge. She waved a surreptitious wing at him, signaling for him to hold fire for now, before turning back to the unicorn. “Well, if you want—”

She squawked in alarm as a coarse rope slipped over her neck. The earth mare at the other end tugged on it with her teeth, tightening the lasso around her feathered chest hard enough to drive the breath from her. Gava stumbled as the rope jerked her forwards, but saved herself from the fall by extending her wings.

“Y’all talk too much,” the cowpony said.

“What the—” Gava grunted as she struggled against the lasso. It didn’t budge. “How are you so fucking strong? What the hell did your parents feed you?”

Even behind the rope in her mouth and the bravado in her eyes, the sadness was clear in the mare’s smile. “Just the heartiest darn apples y’all might ever taste.”

Alright, fuck this. Unable to move her wings without risking a fall, Gava settled for turning her head to Drift Eye and giving him a quick nod.

Twilight followed Gava’s gaze, her eyes shooting wide open as she saw the lithe red stallion on the upper level of the deck and the long-barreled rifle cradled against his shoulder. She opened her mouth to speak, but Sabre was faster.

“Down!”

The roar of the rifle was louder than any Twilight had heard before, dwarfing even Flint’s thunderous repeater. Applejack’s cry of pain was even louder in her ears. Her rustic friend seemed to fall in slow motion to her eyes, the splash of vivid blood bursting from her shoulder warm on her cheeks.

I’ll flay him alive! Tear the skin from his flesh, turn his bones to searing fire, plunge him into an unending nightmare of—

“Stop!”

The word rocked through the ship with an ethereal echo. Twilight’s horn burst to life with a blinding purple aura, forcing everyone nearby to avert their gaze.

She turned her head, locking eyes with the sniper that dared to harm her friend. The stallion’s mouth opened and closed uselessly. He shook himself, bringing the scope up to his eye, and fired a round straight at her skull.

Twilight barely noticed the heavy metal slug as she batted it aside. All she saw was the image of blood spurting from Applejack’s shoulder, again and again. There was that hatred burning inside of her, screaming at her to punish the fool that dared to cross her. Voices shouted around her, but she couldn’t hear them over the the pulsing pain in her horn.

More guns were shot at her, and each useless bullet went unnoticed. She closed her eyes. Images flashed through her mind of a sunny picnic with her friends. She thought of Sabre standing in a puddle of gore. Of buying cupcakes from Sugarcube Corner. The red stains on Owloysius’s cheeks. She was teetering on the edge. She had to get the magic out of her, get her friends to safety. Fast.

She opened her eyes, and with a thought the chaos of the deck fell silent. Everyone aboard felt the crushing downwards pressure she exerted, pinning them to the floor. Twilight looked from eye to eye, seeing the cold fury in Gava’s eyes, the steel will in Sabre’s, and the fear in Applejack’s.

She looked away, unable to bear seeing her friend feeling such fear for her. She teleported through the ship in short steps, the wood warping around her with her passage. She found Dusty Tome and Sunfeather straining beneath the pressure of her magic in the brig, and teleported them with her back to the deck. She teleported Rainbow away from Gava, bringing her to Applejack’s side.

You’ve got your friends. Now crush your foes. You have the power. End them, and they’ll never bother you again.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fiery fuck!

Gava grimaced under the arcane weight pushing her down. Was that the feeling of her bones breaking? Would they snap, she wondered, or just be ground down into a coarse dust?

She strained to glare up at the purple-coated witch that had the ship in her hold, refusing to fall to her knees. She’d be damned if she knelt before her legs snapped, and she’d be damned if she broke before her ship did.

“The wise griffon treats each hunt as her first,” her father used to say. “The fool grows complacent, and finds herself the prey.”

Guess I’m the fool, Dad. The ship groaned under the arcane forces surrounding it, the deck beginning to buckle. A tearing crack echoed through the air as the four masts snapped, raining wooden splinters into the waves below.

What had she been thinking? These Gifted were unlike anything anyone had ever seen before. That pegasus was a dozen times faster than she’d thought possible. The cowpony had had her throat slit, fought off a half-dozen ponies, and still had the strength to join a boarding party and throw a lasso. And now this unicorn was holding her whole ship hostage with a purple-tinted hissy fit.

The witch’s horn grew brighter, forcing Gava to grit her teeth and look away. She could hear the magic, a howling shriek that seemed to scratch at the back of her skull. As far as deaths go, at least I’ll die hunting the craziest prey there is.

Silence settled over the ship.

It was so sudden that Gava nearly fell over. She stumbled to the side, catching herself on the railing. It cracked under her weight and spun off into the open air. She flared her wings, catching herself, and looked around.

The witch was gone, along with her Gifted friend and Sea Sabre. Ponies were strewn all about, raising their heads to take tentative, terrified glances at their surroundings. One of them screamed as he cradled a broken leg.

The Roc’s Screech was a mess. Gava grimaced as she took in the splintered planks and the holes where the deck had collapsed altogether. The masts had all been shattered. She could smell the gas leaking out of the ballast tanks, mixed in with the overwhelming scent of fear.

A pegasus mare stood up, her whole body shaking. “Fuck this crazy shit!” she screamed, galloping for the edge of the deck. She leapt, spreading her wings in that sloppy way that pegasus foals often did when they still thought they had a chance at flying. She plummeted out of sight, screaming all the way.

Gava heaved a heavy sigh. She straightened up, stretching her limbs and testing for pain. Satisfied, she stepped to the relatively whole center of the deck and cleared her throat.

“Unless anyone else would like to jump to their idiotic deaths,” she said, raising her voice. “We’ll be making for the nearest port. Everyone still alive when we get there gets double pay, and then you’re free to go.”

The crew stared at her blankly. She clacked her beak, stalking towards the nearest door below decks. Along the way she saw Drift Eye sitting stunned on the upper deck. “Drift Eye! Get repairs started! You have my permission to use whatever means you deem necessary to instill discipline.”

Drift Eye shook himself at the sound of his name. He looked down and met her eye. “Y-yeah! Right, boss.”

Gava nodded. She’d give him a few minutes to collect himself. For now, she would keep herself busy. Both for her own sanity and the morale of her crew, she had to keep up appearances.

The ship had fared no better below decks than it had above. The halls looked as if a pair of giant, clumsy fledglings had been playing catch with an equally huge iron ball. It hurt her to know that the Screech had come to this because of her own insolence. She should’ve never split up with Ana—not on a hunt like this. The witty thestral was always telling her to be more patient, to sit and wait and watch and see before she pounced.

She stepped around a wooden beam that had fallen from above, shuffling her wings to loose the splinters lodged inside. There was a part of her that wanted to cut her losses. Back off and go live your life hunting the enemies of wealth while you still can. It’s not like she actually wanted to retire. She’d probably go mad if she had to spend the rest of her life hunting nothing but squawking chickens with some pony’s permission.

No, the retirement had been little more than an excuse. What she wanted was to hunt. There was nothing greater to her than that thrill, and these Gifted were the greatest prey she’d ever been proud enough to stalk. She hated to remember the terror that had gripped her beneath that witch’s hold, but the pounding of her heart in that same moment had been magnificent. She hadn’t felt that way since she killed her first dog under her father’s guidance. And she loved it.

“Top!” she called, passing the groaning shapes of hirelings huddled up in the corners. “Top, you still alive down here?”

His response was faint, muffled by wood. “In the brig, Gava!”

She turned, heading for the stairs. The brig was in pieces. Three of the six cells were little more than holes leaking scrap out into the open air. Topgallant was inside the far cell, holding onto the bars as he peered down at the ocean below.

He looked up as she approached. “Tell me I’m hallucinating.”

Gava flew across the wide gap trapping him in the cell. “Did you see a glowing purple unicorn pop in here, fuck up the ship, and then disappear along with both of our prisoners?”

He shivered. “I’m afraid so.”

Gava shrugged. “Well if you’re hallucinating, you’re not alone.” She held out her arms. “I’m not letting you ride me, but I’ll carry you across.”

The stallion sighed as he pried himself free of the bars. “I’m guessing you won’t be giving up on this one.”

Gava’s beak twisted into a predatory grin.

“Twilight? Twilight! Consarnit, sugar cube, come out an’ talk to me!”

Although she wasn’t cold, Twilight couldn’t stop shivering. She was hiding on top of the Argo’s hull, having teleported herself outside as soon as she knew her friends were safe. She’d heard Applejack calling her name up and down the ship for nearly an hour now, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to answer. She wished that her stubborn friend would just go to bed. She more than needed the rest.

Twilight was so tired. Not physically—despite the heat and magnetic spells she was using to keep herself comfortable on the outer hull of a ship that had never been designed with a deck—but mentally. Emotionally. How had she let things get this bad? She’d known that there was something wrong with her ever since she began having those terrible nightmares of drowning, but she’d ignored it. She’d begun casting mute spells on her bed to keep from disturbing her friends, and sleep spells on herself so she could stay awake throughout the day. She’d kept putting it off for later, and how couldn’t she? There was so much she had to do. The Princesses—no, all of Equestria—were counting on her to fix everything that she had let go wrong in her absence. There had never been time to explore the dark thoughts that cropped up in the back of her mind when she wasn’t paying attention, or to investigate just what exactly had gone wrong the night she broke the enchantment hanging over Fluttershy.

Even now, she didn’t have the time. She was wasting precious seconds moping while Princess Luna slept in the ship. Everypony aboard was either making vital repairs, guiding the ship back to port, or getting much-needed rest. She should be researching Luna’s condition, or searching for a new lead, or even just talking to her friends. What right did she have to extend Luna’s terrible condition even further through her own inadequacy?

It had been too much, too fast. The sea serpent, the dream, the battle. So much stress and carnage all piled up with only the smallest break in between. She had lost herself in that dream—just for a few seconds, but it was still long enough to destroy the idyllic Equestria she’d imagined. She’d nearly lost herself again when she saw that griffon pulling her talon across Applejack’s body, and she would’ve been fine if that had been the end of it. She’d had it under control. She would’ve been fine if she could have just gotten some time alone with some books, gotten some sleep, calmed herself down.

“But of course it couldn’t be that easy, could it?” she growled. She winced at the venom in her voice.

She’d seen Rainbow on that ship, floating away to who-knew-where, and she’d had no choice. I didn’t have a choice. She’d told herself that so many times already. And then seeing Applejack get shot right in front of her. For a moment, Twilight thought she’d just lost one of her best friends.

She could barely remember what had happened after. It was all just a red haze. All she remembered clearly was arguing with herself over whether or not to kill every soul aboard that ship. She could only hope that she had gotten herself and her friends away without killing anypony.

Twilight sighed. When had she started crying?

She wiped a hoof against her cheek. The warm blood seeped into her coat.

Author's Note

How will Rainbow cope with the loss of her eye? Will Twilight be able to control the darkness inside her? And how many times can you shoot an Applejack before you have to give it's hat back?

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XV: The Table

There was a knock on the wall.

Twilight stiffened with one hoof frozen in the act of pulling back the blanket of her bed. She looked over her shoulder, eyeing the simple curtain that separated her little corner of the cargo hold off from the rest of the ship.

The knock came again. Three times, polite, a hoof rapping against one of the metal partitions that formed her room.

“Y’all in there, Twi?”

She’s still up? It couldn’t have been more than an hour from dawn. Twilight had spent almost the whole night brooding on top of one the Argo’s exterior ballast tanks. She had been sure that Applejack would have gone to bed.

Maybe she was having trouble sleeping as well? Or I suppose she could have just taken a nap.

Twilight’s eyes drifted back to her bed. The stacked pair of plush mattresses beckoned to her, offering a sweet escape. It would be so easy to just cast a small silence field over the room and slip between the sheets. To just close her eyes and wake up in the morning, mumble something about being tired and rush off to find something to do.

Applejack must have heard her teleporting in. She had every right to come bursting in through that flimsy curtain, and still she had decided to knock and ask as if she didn’t know Twilight was there. Didn’t she deserve a little honesty?

Twilight’s ears flicked as she heard a soft sigh from behind the curtain, followed by the clip-clop of hooves slowly walking away.

“Wait.”

Twilight took the few soft steps to the curtain with trepidation. She pulled it aside, meeting Applejack’s tired gaze.

The farmpony gave her a worn smile. Bruises and small cuts marred her coat, and a thick layer of bandages was secured to her shoulder with a harness of gauze. Her hat had been returned to its rightful place atop her head, adorned with the scars of fresh repairs as if attempting to mirror its master.

“Y’all ready to talk yet, sugar cube?”

“I…” Twilight’s eyes roamed around the cargo hold, coming to rest on the blanket-swathed mattress where Luna slumbered. “Shouldn’t you get some rest?”

“Probably,” Applejack said. “But I reckon there’s a few ponies aboard this ship worse off than me, in one way or another. I’ll be fine lendin’ y’all my ear for a bit.”

Twilight’s chest heaved as she let out a long sigh. “Why don’t you come and sit down?”

Applejack followed her into the little room, letting out a whistle of appreciation as she took in the layers of scribbled notes and stacked books that had started to overtake it. “Y’all need my desk? Y’know I can’t remember the last time I even touched that thing except to wipe the dust off.”

Twilight felt the corner of her lips pull up at the joke as she sat against a tall stack of heavy tomes. “I think I’ll be fine, AJ. I just haven’t taken the time to reorganize in a while.”

“Shucks, it must be worse than I thought.” Applejack gave a wry little smile before plopping herself down on the bed.

Several minutes passed as the two mares enjoyed each other’s company in silence. Twilight looked up at the cargo hold’s ceiling far above her.

“Twilight,” Applejack said, drawing the unicorn’s attention to the present. “When did all this start?”

Twilight swallowed in an attempt to loosen the words caught in her throat. It wasn’t a difficult question. Twilight knew exactly when everything had started.

“It was Fluttershy,” she said. Her eyes widened as she realized the possible implications of the words, and rushed to correct herself. “N-not that it was her fault, or anything like that! It’s just—the enchantment over her. There was something…” She trailed off, a hoof circling over the floor as she searched for the best word. “I couldn’t let it hurt any of you.”

How different might things be if she had let it be? Perhaps the darkness would have split itself evenly between them, and they could have borne its corrupting influence together. Or maybe the seeds would have been just as strong, and she had weakened it by taking it all onto herself. “So I absorbed it into myself.”

“So that’s what happened there, huh?” Applejack let out a thoughtful little grunt. “We were all awful worried ‘bout y’all, y’know.”

A shiver passed over Twilight as she remembered the feeling of the saw being drawn across the base of her horn. She reached a hoof up, letting out a small breath of relief when she felt its weight on her forehead.

Applejack slid off the bed. She walked over to Twilight’s side, putting a hoof around her. “Y’all wanna tell me about it?”

“I’m sorry, AJ.” Twilight sniffled, leaning into the soft fur of her friend’s chest. “It’s just… it’s so much. It gets so dark. I couldn’t bear to inflict the same fate onto any of you.”

Applejack let out a soft chuckle. “Y’all know there ain’t one of us that’d turn down a share of that pain if ya asked, filly.”

Twilight’s body began to shake as more tears fell down her cheeks. The words came slowly to her at first. “I’ve started having these thoughts... Horrible, destructive thoughts. I just get so angry sometimes, and then the magic starts to flow through me, and it’s like there’s this voice just screaming in my head, demanding that I do these terrible things.” She turned into Applejack’s open embrace, her voice rising in pitch and speed. “That stallion shot you, and I almost killed him, AJ! I w-wanted to—oh, Celestia, I c-can’t even bring myself to say it!”

“There, there,” Applejack cooed, running a hoof through her mane. “I gotcha. Yer alright. Yer okay.”

Great big sobs wracked Twilight’s whole body. “I’m so s-scared, AJ. I—I d-don’t know what’s h-happening to me!” Her voice devolved into wordless gasps as all her pent up fears came pouring out.

“S’alright, sugar cube.” Applejack rested her muzzle on Twilight’s head as she held her tight. “We’re here for ya. No matter what. Ya’ve always got your friends.”

Twilight didn’t know how long she spent like that, babbling wet nonsense into Applejack’s embrace. It only ended when she fell into a dark, dreamless sleep in her friend’s hooves.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit… tasteless?” Rarity asked, lowering her voice.

Whitehorn arched a brow as he looked up from the stuffed bell peppers on his plate. He swallowed, looking around. “The song, you mean?”

“Well, yes, of course,” Rarity said. “Have you been listening to the lyrics?”

They were seated in a booth set against the window of a large inn. It was on the second floor, with a clear view of the clean-paved street below and the ocean beyond. The rising sun hung low over the horizon, silhouetting the shapes of airships drifting through the sky.

A live band played from a stage on the far side of the first floor. A drumset and contrabass set an upbeat rhythm, while a guitar and clarinet provided a swinging melody. A long-maned mare in a provocatively-cut dress sang at the front of the stage as her hips moved with the beat.

The song had a typical jazzy melody, telling the tale of a mare luring a handsome stallion home from the club. Rarity might've even enjoyed it if not for the chorus, when the singer called for the stallion to "fall, fall, fall for me."

Whitehorn’s ears twitched. The corner of his mouth screwed up as he leaned back. “Not the best choice in song, I would say.”

“I’m going to go say something,” Rarity said. She slid out of her seat.

Whitehorn reached out with a hoof. “Countess, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine!” Rarity snapped back. “There are ponies in here whose entire world has fallen out from under them. Some of them twice!”

“And those ponies aren’t little foals that need to be protected from ravenous tavern bands by their Auntie Rarity,” Whitehorn said. He stood up, standing in front of her with a wry little smile. “You’ve done enough, my Lady. They don’t need you to speak for them.”

Rarity held his gaze for several seconds, her body tense. She sighed as she looked away from him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that, it’s just—”

“It’s fine.”

“—everything that’s been happening, and I just feel like—”

“Countess Rarity. Rarity, look at me.”

“—there’s still so much I should be doing, and—”

Rarity stiffened as a gentle, pale blue hoof reached out to grab her chin. Her gaze was pulled upwards to meet Whitehorn’s kind eyes.

“You need to take a break,” he said. “You’ve done so much already. You barely slept during Fellis, and there must be a few dozen ponies at least that will always remember being pulled from the waters by ropes glowing with your magic. Captain Breeze will ensure they make it to safety as soon as the Ambrosia’s fit for travel once more.”

He let his hoof fall, gesturing towards the table. “Please, my Lady. Let’s take a few moments to ourselves. Not a one of the ponies whose lives you saved would begrudge us a nice lunch to celebrate before we part ways.”

Rarity let out a shaky little giggle. Goodness, what was that scent he was wearing? “I suppose you’re right, Whitehorn. Maybe I should follow Pinkie’s example.”

She sat down again, eyeing her roasted cauliflower with new spirit. Her ear twitched as she heard Pinkie saying something downstairs, perhaps to one of the survivors she had joined in celebration. She sounded happy. But then, she just about always sounds happy, doesn’t she?

Whitehorn nodded, slumping back into his seat across from her. They ate in silence for a few minutes, exchanging small comments about their food and savoring the chance to simply sit and breathe and live their lives.

They had spent frantic days trying to feed and care for the dozens of refugees they’d brought with them on the Sip of Ambrosia, yet Rarity could barely remember anything specific. It was all just a blur of rushing to and fro, lending her hoof or horn wherever she could help. Holding the injured down as the ship physician did her best to treat wounds without enough medicine, rationing and distributing food, helping foals find their parents, or at least a warm place to sleep. The only thing she could really remember clearly was butchering her fledgling wardrobe to meet the demand for bandages and blankets. A high price to pay, but then clothes were fairly easy to replace.

A frown graced her face as she thought of something. “Whitehorn, darling. What was that you said about us parting ways?”

Whitehorn was gazing out the window with a distant look in his eyes. He blinked, turning back to face her. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“You said we were celebrating before we parted ways,” Rarity said. “Weren’t you planning on returning to Heighton with Pinkie and I?”

“Ah, yes. Hrm.” He looked up, rubbing his chin with a hoof. “Did I not mention it already? I thought I had.”

“I don’t think so.” Rarity took a sip of her wine as she reviewed her sparse recollection of the past few days. It was another white variety, though not as delightfully zesty as the wine she’d had in Heighton. “But to be honest I might have forgotten even if you did. Would you be a dear and refresh my memory?”

He gave her a smiling nod. There was a lull in the music as the band paused to take requests from the crowd. “Of course, my Lady. I’ll be taking a ride north aboard whichever ship leaves first, to a baronland where I have some business. Altalusia.” He looked down to his plate, slicing into a pepper with his knife. “It’s about as far north as Heighton is south, actually.”

“But what about your article?” Rarity asked. “Won’t you need to be in Heighton to find a paper to publish? Or at least see its reception?” She tossed her mane, giving him a sideways glance. “And I do believe you were just telling me about letting ourselves take breaks, no?”

Whitehorn snorted, snickering to himself. It was perhaps the least proper thing Rarity had ever seen him do. “I don’t think you know how many contacts I have with the Heighton broadsheets. I’ll have Mister Drifts send the final draft to my apartment, and Fritzy will have copies sent to the proper ponies. I hardly need to be there to see how it’s received. The people will listen, or they won’t. It’ll be out of my hooves either way.” He pointed at her with his knife, propelling a stray piece of onion onto the table. “And don’t you talk to me about deserving breaks. You’ve only been in this game for days, and I feel as if you’ve already accomplished more than I have. I have catching up to do.”

The band began to play once more. This new song had a darker rhythm to it, the mare at the front of the stage drawing out each word as she cast her voice across the room.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” Rarity tittered as she waved the words away with a hoof. “You’ve been writing for years, darling.”

Rarity almost didn’t notice the darkness that seemed to fall over Whitehorn’s eyes. “It’s as I said, Countess. Ponies listen, or they don’t. And there’s nothing I can do on that front.” He let out a heavy sigh as he pointed at his horn. “This heavy thing doesn’t even make a decent night light, you know. All I have is my words, but it seems that ponies will not be inspired to act until the world drops out under their hooves. Words can’t get anything done.”

Rarity grimaced as he turned to eye the crowds shuffling past each other in the street below the window. The tight robes and clean dresses of the ponies under his smoldering gaze made a stark contrast from the soot-stained world that would await him in Heighton.

Looks like a subject change is in order, Lady Rarity.

“So what’s this business that’s suddenly important enough to keep you away from home?” Rarity asked.

“It’s a… pet project of mine. Well—” He chuckled to himself as he pulled his gaze back towards her. “That’s how I like to think of it, at least. I could probably go on about it for hours, so I’m not going to bother—”

“I’ll have none of that, darling,” Rarity said. “As an artiste myself, I understand what it is to be excited about something you care about. Do go on.”

He grinned at her. “Well, I did warn you.” He lifted his mug to his muzzle and took a long sip of his cider. “It’s essentially—Hrm. The idea is an organization that could harness the power of the Gifted, to compress it all down into one sentence.”

Rarity arched a brow. The band continued to sing in the background.

“Just think about it,” Whitehorn continued, the darkness that had passed over his eyes now replaced with a foalish eagerness. “Everything that you and Pinkie did, just working on your own? And imagine how things might have been different if Mr. Drifts had been more cooperative? Each Gifted has the potential to do so much good, but they’re too busy pursuing their own ends to aid their fellow pony.”

“But how would you get them to change?” Rarity asked. “I’ve only met a few, and even the nicest ones seem more interested in their own affairs than public works.”

“Well, that’s where the organization comes in,” Whitehorn said. He waved an aimless hoof in the air for a few seconds, mouth open. “It’s—alright, here.” He pulled a napkin over, picking a pen out of his vest pocket and beginning to scribble onto it. He continued to speak around the pen, his voice surprisingly clear despite the obstruction.

“So you have the Throne, right? But there’s nopony in it. It’s been vacant for centuries, and nopony can muster the support or the power to claim it for themselves.” He drew a triangle in the center of the napkin, and then a circle at each corner. “Without a central authority, power goes to whoever has the money, the land, or the popular support. You’re a discerning mare, I’m sure you saw it at Crazy’s party.”

Rarity frowned as she leaned forwards to get a better look at the doodle. She gave a slow nod. “The barons, the politicians, and the merchants, yes. It seemed nearly every guest there fit into one group or another.”

“Right. And although each of those groups have their own internal power struggles, the one thing they all have in common is the Gifted.” He spoke quickly, drawing lines between each of the circles. “All of them want Gifted. Soldiers for the barons, negotiators for the merchants, manipulators for the politicians, and every shade in between.” He looked up from the napkin, meeting her skeptical gaze. “This gives a Gifted immense opportunity. Assuming they can defend themselves from bounty hunters looking to sell them into service, they have the unique position of being wanted by everypony in power.”

“What are you getting at, darling?” Rarity asked.

Whitehorn grinned around the pen. “It’s the difference between the past and the present, my Lady. In your time, magic was as free as the air we breathe, and the Throne was there to keep the powerful and their squabbles in line. Now the Throne is gone, and magic is a precious thing.”

“Some Gifted are content being pieces for the power players,” Whitehorn continued. “Some of them try to play the game themselves. And some place themselves…“ He dropped the pen, his eyes flicking aside before he regained his focus. “Some keep themselves more independent. But there’s not a single one that has their fellow pony’s interests at heart.”

“And your solution to this problem would be what, exactly?” Rarity cocked her head, her wine glass levitating at her side.

“Two birds with one stone, my Lady. An organization that can rein in the Gifted, and place them in the role the Throne once had. Keeping the powerful in line, and using their magic for the common good.” He tapped a hoof on the triangle at the center of the napkin. “I call it the Gifted Table.”

“That… sounds an awful lot like coercing ponies to do as you like, darling,” Rarity said. She frowned down at the napkin and the idea it described. “I doubt the Gifted would freely serve your cause, and I doubt those in power would listen to them.”

“I’ve already made some progress on that, actually,” Whitehorn said, leaning back. “I have enough support among the merchants and mayors, but nobles are reluctant to do anything that makes their retinues weaker. I’ve spent years already just trying to get a baron with enough power to back me, but once I do… well, it could be the first meaningful thing to happen in the Equestrian Court for decades. Just think of all the good that could be done!”

“And who would lead this Gifted Table of yours, dear?” Rarity asked. She arched a brow pointedly. “You?”

Whitehorn chuckled. He pushed his spent meal away and dropped a few bits onto the tabletop. “It’s been too long since I was able to stretch my legs.” He stood, extending a hoof towards Rarity. “Would you join me for a small promenade, Countess?”

Twilight had never realized before just how well Applejack’s warm body served as a pillow.

She raised her head, cautious of disturbing her friend, and checked the clock that she had bought during her brief time in Leviathan Wakes. It was only ten in the morning. She couldn’t have slept more than four hours, and she didn’t really feel any more rested than she had when she fell asleep crying into Applejack’s chest.

Why was she awake? Had it been another nightmare? She didn’t remember casting any sleep spells on herself, but then she also didn’t remember any dreams of drowning.

With a mental shrug, Twilight nuzzled back into Applejack’s coat. The farmpony stirred, mumbling something under her breath about hats, but didn’t wake.

It felt like hours passed. Twilight had her eyes closed, but sleep didn’t come to her.

What’s wrong with me? A sardonic grin came onto her face at the thought. There were several things wrong with her, and had been for what felt like forever. Had it really been less than three weeks ago that she woke up in the ruins of Canterlot?

The grin was gone as quick as it came. Twilight sighed, opening her eyes. Were her friends and the rest of the crew all worried about her? Did they think she was still hiding? Were they worried about her? And when was the last time she’d had something to eat?

That settled it. She wouldn’t be able to fall asleep until she saw her friends again and made sure they were okay. And she had something to eat.

Twilight eased herself away from Applejack’s warmth. She pulled the blanket up over her friend’s body before slipping out into the cargo hold that was the closest thing she had to a home. Her horn glowed as she cast a few pings around her. Rainbow wasn’t in her makeshift cloudhome. Fluttershy wasn’t in her little room, either.

Twilight made her way out into the halls and up to the second deck, pinging as she went. A large stallion that could only be Flint was in a room with a great deal of guns. She saw no reason to disturb him. Knowing him, he probably hadn’t even noticed her absence. Two ponies were in the control room, while a third pony sat alone in the common room. A pair of mares were together in the clinic. Rainbow and Fluttershy.

She made a beeline for the clinic, thinking of how useful Trails’s ping spell was. She wondered if the other unicorn used it to keep track of her friends just like Twilight just had. She didn’t seem capable of sending out radial pings, so perhaps it wasn’t as convenient for her. Twilight made a mental note to ask Trails about it later, and maybe offer some coaching.

Twilight slowed as she approached the clinic door, a pang of guilt passing through her. She could still clearly see the ugly redness that had covered much of Rainbow’s face. How could she have spent so long feeling sorry for herself when one of her best friends had been dealing with such a terrible wound? She hadn’t even stopped in to check if her friend was okay. Oh, Celestia, please tell me that she’s okay.

The door was slightly ajar as she came up to it. Twilight pushed it open with a hoof, stepping quietly into the room crowded with medical instruments. Rainbow was lying on the bed at the far end, looking out the window. Twilight hesitated as she saw Sea Sabre was standing beside her. I guess Fluttershy is elsewhere. The stern-eyed pegasus turned to watch as she entered.

The word caught in Twilight’s throat as she pushed it out. “R-Rainbow?”

Rainbow jolted, her body stiffening at the sound of her name. She took a deep breath as she turned to face Twilight. “H-hey, Twi.”

“Oh, Rainbow.” Twilight raised a hoof to her muzzle. A knot of emotion formed in her stomach as she saw her friend’s bandaged wounds. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Just don’t worry about it, alright?” Rainbow asked, her voice cracking. She looked away again, hiding the strips of gauze that covered the space where her left eye had been just a day before. “I’m glad to see you’re alright, Twi. AJ was looking all over for you, earlier.”

Sea Sabre cleared her throat. “Give yourself some time to recover, Rainbow Dash. We’ll talk again then.” She stepped past Twilight, looking back at her from out in the hall. “Twilight?”

“Yes, Sabre?” Twilight asked, tearing her gaze away from her friend.

“Things turned out better than they could have, yesterday, but it’s clear to me that they very easily might have gone much worse.” Sabre’s stare bored into hers. “In the future, I won’t hesitate to do what’s necessary if I feel you’re endangering my crew.”

Twilight gulped. She thought back to the bloody mess that had covered the Argo’s walls. “I understand.”

Sea Sabre nodded. “I’ll be up front. Come talk to me when you’re done here.” She closed the door behind her, and the sound of her steady hoofsteps gradually faded away.

“She’s pretty intense, huh?”

Twilight looked back to Rainbow. The brash pegasus seemed unusually small, almost like a filly staring out her bedroom window. “I don’t think I’ve ever once seen her smile.”

“There was that one time,” Rainbow said. “Remember, after we came back from what’s left of Ponyville? She said the dive was a ‘success.’ “

A small chuckle escaped Twilight’s lips. It didn’t feel right. “That wasn’t really much of a smile, but I guess you’re right.”

An uncomfortable silence settled into place. Twilight let her eyes amble around the room, uncertain what to do with them. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it without making a sound. She didn’t know how long it was before she tried again—there was no clock in the room—but Rainbow beat her to it.

“It’s… weird,” she said. She turned away from the window, looking instead at the wall. She held her left hoof out in front of her. “There’s like… it feels like my eye is open. But it’s just… dark. It doesn’t really hurt that much anymore, and sometimes I just kind of… forget what happened. And I try to open my eye but—” Her voice caught as she let the hoof drop. “But it’s already open.”

“Oh, Rainbow.” Twilight stepped up to the bedside, leaning her head against the pegasus’s side. “I’m so sorry.”

“Can you fix it?” Rainbow asked. She kept her voice carefully neutral.

“I—I don’t know,” Twilight admitted. “There might be a book out there with a spell that would work, but healing magic isn’t like other magic. It’s—oh, I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I just can’t bring myself to say no, either.” I don’t want to fail you, too.

“Save it, Twi. I figured it’d be something like that.” Rainbow paused, and Twilight felt her weight shift further towards her. “My only regret is that that cocky bird got the best of me. I’m not letting that happen again.”

“Rainbow—”

“She threatened my friends,” Rainbow growled. “She would’ve killed AJ. Though I guess I didn’t really need to tackle her, huh? Fluttershy told me about how you just teleported AJ to safety, and how she fought off all those ponies.” She snorted, shuffling her wings. “I was the one that needed rescuing in the end.”

Twilight pulled back, trying to catch her friend’s gaze. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Rainbow turned to face her. A slow-burning fire simmered in her good eye as she jabbed a hoof at the patch of bandages on her face. “This is my fault, Twi. I wasn’t good enough, and Gava got me. That’s it.” She looked back to the window with a deep breath. “Sabre said she’ll give me lessons once my wounds heal more.” A dark smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. “I’m gonna learn how to use wingblades. The next time I meet Gava, I’ll be ready for her.”

Twilight couldn’t help but frown at the back of Rainbow’s polychromatic mane. The pegasus was coping with her injury well, but Twilight couldn’t help but feel that she was taking it in the wrong direction. Would she wake up one day to find her loyal friend replaced by a callous soldier like Flintlock, or a cold warrior like Sea Sabre, or even a bloodthirsty killer like Gava? She couldn’t help but feel like the course of Rainbow’s life had been inexorably altered by yesterday’s events, but then who was Twilight to talk? And could she even really blame her?

“Just be careful, Rainbow,” Twilight said. “And don’t let this whole thing change you for the worse. You’re a wonderful, loyal friend, and we all love you.”

Rainbow’s smile widened into a warm, familiar grin. “Thanks for stopping by, Twi. AJ was looking for you earlier, by the way. I know Shy’s real worried, too. I told her you were fine, of course, but y’know how she is.”

Twilight smiled back at her. This was more like the Rainbow Dash she knew. The secretly caring, loudly independent mare that had grown on her so fast during the Summer Sun Celebration. “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Rainbow shrugged. “Same to you, Twi.”

With one last empathetic squeeze, Twilight left the clinic. The door closed behind her with a quiet click. She took a deep breath, wondering what to do next. Sabre had said she wanted to talk, but Twilight wanted to find Fluttershy and make sure she was okay, too. She sent out a couple more pings, but the only thing different was the presence of a third pony in the control room. Well, maybe Fluttershy is one of them. She might be keeping Sunfeather company.

It was a short walk to the front of the ship. Twilight stepped through the control room door’s hissing steam clouds to a wide view of sparkling blue ocean visible through the glass. Sunfeather and Star Trails were discussing something over open charts by the navigation table. Sunfeather didn’t even look up, but the latter offered a friendly wave before refocusing on the charts. Sea Sabre stood next to the vacant control dais, staring out at the empty horizon.

Twilight dipped her head to Star Trails, trying not to stare at the clean dressing on her shoulder, and continued on to Sea Sabre’s side. “You wanted to talk?”

Sabre’s eyes flicked towards her. “I made an observation during our engagement with Gava that I believe to be significant.”

Twilight grimaced. She looked down, scratching at the ground. “Sabre, I know that I nearly lost control yesterday. I’m so, so sorry. I never want to put you in that position again, and—”

“Not that,” Sabre said. “That matter’s been resolved. This is about where we go from here.”

Twilight blinked. The pit in her stomach eased somewhat, but the core of it remained. She looked up to meet Sabre’s eyes. “Well, I need to do some tests on Princess Luna’s condition, and some research into dreams and healing magics. So if we could—”

Sabre lifted a hoof, cutting her off. “Did you see a mooncursed pegasus mare anywhere on Gava’s ship?”

Twilight cocked her head. “Mooncursed?”

“Sharp teeth, dark coat, tufted ears.” Sabre spread one of her wings. “Featherless wings. Anything like that?”

“Oh!” Twilight let out a little giggle. “In my time we called them thestrals, actually. Pretty much all of them worked in the service of Princess Luna, so most ponies didn’t really see much of them, and—”

“Twilight.”

“Right, sorry.” Twilight screwed up her eyes, tapping a hoof to her chin as she reviewed her broken recollection of the fight with Gava. “Sorry, Sabre, but if I did see anypony like that, then I don’t remember. My memories of her ship are a little… spotty. Why do you ask?”

Sabre let out a neutral grunt. “Nopony else did either, and that’s the problem. Gava’s closest ally is a thestral, as you call them. Her name is Anatami, and they always—always—work together.”

“Maybe they had some kind of falling out?” Twilight suggested.

Sabre shook her head. “Not likely. I see two possibilities.” She took slow steps around the control dais as she spoke, gesturing with a wing. “First, she’s hidden somewhere aboard the Argo. Anatami is the subtle thinker behind Gava’s brawn, and I wouldn’t put it past her to be spying on us right now. I’ve already had the ship searched, but she’s an experienced saboteur that could have slipped past us.”

A chill ran down Twilight’s spine. She immediately lit her horn, sending powerful pulses of magic throughout the ship. The Argo was a complicated affair of clockwork machinery, but the flesh of living ponies had a feel distinct from cold brass or other metals. “I can’t sense any extra ponies aboard. If she is hiding somewhere, then there must be some advanced magic hiding her.”

“Magic is not a field she has much experience with, unfortunately,” Sabre said.

“Unfortunately?” Twilight asked.

“It means the second possibility is more likely.” Sabre came to a stop in front of Twilight, extending her other wing. Noon sunlight filtered through the bubble of glass in the room, casting a short shadow at her hooves. “They split up. And the only reason that they would split up is if they had to in order to keep track of multiple targets.”

Twilight’s blood ran cold as she made the connection. “Rarity and Pinkie.”

Sabre nodded. “We don’t know how long they’ve been tracking us. I believe Anatami might have been following your friends ever since they left Heighton.”

“But—we have to warn them!” Twilight began to pace, her eyes growing wider and wider. “I don’t know how long they were planning on staying at Fellis Island. They might’ve already returned to Heighton by now.”

“Fellis is closer,” Sabre said. “Star Trails and Sunfeather are refining our course now. Unless you have any objections, we should be there within the week.”

“Oh, but what if we’re wrong?” Twilight leaned against the control dais for support, putting a hoof to her chest. She didn’t know what she might do if she lost any more of her friends. “What if they’ve already been caught?”

“I don’t think Anatami would act on her own,” Sabre said. “She’s very deliberate. Gava will probably be making to rendezvous with her now, however, and I expect that to be when they strike.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Twilight snapped, her nostrils flaring. A surge of magic welled in her breast, and she was quick to push it down. “My friends are in danger! We have to get to them before anything happens!”

Sabe frowned at her. “I’m just telling you the situation. Even with the damage you did, Gava’s ship can outpace ours, and she has a headstart. Even if we go to the right location, she’ll beat us by a margin of days.”

“Oh, no. Oh, Celestia, no, no, no… “ Twilight shivered against the cool surface of the control dais. She looked up as Sabre laid a hoof on her shoulder.

“I’ll leave it up to you what you tell your friends,” she said. “I would recommend against letting the future affect you before it happens. At this point, all we can do is prepare.”

Straterra was a different affair altogether from the ash-clogged streets of Heighton. It was a smaller island, not even half the size of the Heighton mainland, but it seemed to display double the glamour. The streets were paved in neatly set, painted stones. Carts trimmed with vibrant colors were pulled down the center of each path by ponies in clean clothes. Mares and stallions spoke of business as they made a brisk pace down level sidewalks, wearing robes and dresses that each shouted for Rarity’s individual and dedicated appreciation. Restaurants, inns, and spas beckoned with bright signage, whispering of leisure and lodging to every open eye.

“I must say, this is quite the change from Heighton,” Rarity mused as she and Whitehorn walked down one of the island’s six central roads.

“The two islands serve very different purposes,” Whitehorn said. He gestured upwards, indicating a tower barely visible behind the bulk of the airships moored to its sides. “Straterra is a place of trade, not industry. Merchants come here laden down with bits or goods and trade one for the other in some of the best-accounted warehouses in Equestria.”

Rarity glanced behind them, her eyes scoring along the building faces. “You know, I don’t think I’ve seen a single home or apartment yet.”

“There are none,” Whitehorn said. “Straterra is more trading post than city. The closest thing it has to permanent residents are the ponies that work in its services, and many of them stay for only a few years before moving on.”

“But who pays for it all?” Rarity asks. “Who builds all these towers and warehouses and docks?”

“The merchant lords do, in bits and pieces,” Whitehorn answered. “They invest in the island as it serves their purposes, adding new towers or supporting new restaurants or repaving roads as they see profit.” He eyed his surroundings. “It’s all sort of piled up at this point. It’s actually quite surprising how quickly rival traders will cooperate when there’s bits on the line.”

Airships floated overhead like mechanical clouds, casting a spotty shadow over the island below. Rarity walked at Whitehorn’s side in silence, seeing the city in a new light. Straterra was Fellis Island’s closest neighbor, but it clearly wasn’t the best place for dozens of penniless refugees.

Luckily, Captain Breeze had agreed to give those refugees who needed it passage to Heighton, with instructions to bring them to Crazy Rich for aid. Or perhaps it wasn’t luck, and more the assurance of fair payment from Crazy’s coffers. Rarity hadn’t felt comfortable making such promises with another pony’s money, but she hadn’t seen any other choice. She was sure she could convince Crazy to honor the deal.

“You still haven’t answered my question, darling,” Rarity said.

“Ah, yes. Apologies, my Lady. You don’t often have the chance to enjoy fresh air like this, living in Heighton.” Whitehorn took a deep breath, smiling as he exhaled. “I understand your suspicions, Countess, but I can assure you that I have no interest in any leadership positions, no matter the benefits.”

“So after all the effort you’ve put into realizing this Table idea of yours, you would just walk away and leave it to the whims of others?” Rarity asked, her mouth twisted into a skeptic curve. She kept one eye on the passing fashions as they walked. It was the first time she had felt underdressed since the apocalypse, and she found the experience quite refreshing.

“Well, I would certainly stay on for a time to handle any… bumps during the transition,” Whitehorn said. “But only as a parent might guide his foal. I would remove myself as soon as it was clear the Table could stand on its own.”

“I don’t know, darling,” Rarity said. “Power changes ponies.”

The stepped out into a wide, circular plaza centered around an airship docking tower. Fountains sprayed water into the air from four corners, lending a pleasant backdrop to the combined chatter of the plaza’s occupants.

“I’ve had power before, my Lady, and I have no interest in holding it again.” Whitehorn let out a small chuckle. “The ponies at the bottom only feel the pressure from above, and imagine that it must be paradise to stand at the top of the hierarchy. But pressure runs both ways. Workers must pay their rent, managers must meet their quotas, and even a duke will find a knife in his back if he displeases too many loyal servants. There is no place safe within the system.” He paused, adding quietly, “I sometimes envy the Gifted who choose to spurn it.”

Rarity couldn’t help but smile at the little speech. There was something about it that just seemed so sincere. “And wherever did Whitehorn the Writer come across such wisdom?”

He smirked, looking at her from the corner of his eye. “I was lucky enough to be born to an influential couple on a merchant lord’s fleet. They wanted me to follow in their steps, of course, and backed me in the running for a position among the lord’s administration.” He looked away and shook his head. “It was an enlightening, if stressful, experience.”

“And what did your parents think of your enlightenment?” Rarity asked. A cool breeze blew past, toying with her mane.

Whitehorn’s casual smile stiffened, barely perceptible. “I never told them.”

A minute passed in silence. They came to the edge of the island, and turned to walk alongside it. Their hooves clopped with steady rhythm against the wooden dock. A stallion and mare shouted at each other about their different opinions on the proper price of rice.

“So you’re heading for Altalusia to speak with someone about this Gifted Table,” Rarity mused. “Who might they be?”

“Duke Titus. I’ve spoken with him several times before on the matter, and he’s remained a staunch cynic. I don’t have high hopes, but he remains the Table’s best chance.” Whitehorn let out a long sigh. “I fully expect to return to Heighton rejected once more, but… well, I just feel like I ought to have another try after what happened with Fellis.”

Rarity nodded, more to herself than anything. She still had her doubts about the idea. Some silly part of her imagined Gifted ponies marching in chains on their way to feed starving foals, but she was quick to dismiss it. Whitehorn was a good stallion. He was honorable and carried himself with the proper pride of a gentlecolt, and she found herself believing that he had no interest in personal power. And all the good that could be done…

That was the real kicker, the words that had come up so many times in her talks with him. All the good that could be done. It truly was an ideal that held the potential to change Equestria massively for the better. Every Gifted held that potential, and surely some proper guidance—careful not to overstep its bounds, of course—could only do good?

“Is there…” Rarity hesitated before pressing on. “Is there anything I could do to help, darling? Or Pinkie, perhaps?”

Whitehorn blinked. He cocked his head, and a small smile pulled at his lips. He stopped mid-step, turning to face Rarity fully. “Do you know, I think there actually might be.”

Author's Note

[A bit of a break from the breakneck pace of the last four chapters. Can you believe those all took place in one day?

Connoisseurs of electroswing might recognize the band playing in the inn. Click this comment to hear the first song they played!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BT1KzpthAtM)

Join the EH Discord!

XVI: The Trust

Anatami couldn’t remember the last time she had listened to so much music in so little time.

She was hunched over a table in one of the darker corners of yet another of the many sailor bars that littered the edges of Straterra, letting the shadows work with a loose-fitting cloak to hide the distinctive tufts of her ears. Her eyes lingered over the rowdy patrons as they let themselves loose after weeks or months aboard tight-run merchant ships.

She’d lost track of those two Gifted mares while recovering from her injuries, and she was determined to find them again.

How many of these raucous holes had she visited in the last few days? They were so alike, and they were all starting to run together. They all had the same hearty fireplace, the same laughing crowd, the same smiling bartender and the same not-quite-clean mugs. They also all shared the same corner stage, but the bands that occupied them were as varied as the ships drifting above the city’s streets.

She’d heard swing, jazz, rock, blues, and every shade in between. Some of the bands were quite good, belting out rhythms that spoke to her body in some primal way that inspired her to bob her head or tap a hoof. Others, not so much.

But Ana wasn’t touring the bars of Straterra in search of musical treats. She looked down at the mug of mango cider nestled between her hooves. Someone had scratched something into the stone tabletop, but it was too faded for her to make out in any detail. She raised the mug to her lips and took a sip, letting herself enjoy the tangy bite of the drink even as her ears parsed the sailor gossip around her.

Word is there’s a hiring spree down in Skyshoals.

Don’t work any ships headed to Tradewithers. No, the barons are clashing with the free city again.

Did you hear another island fell just a few days ago? Yes, that’s where all the refugees came from. Sad business, that.

My boss took on a few passengers yesterday. He doesn’t usually do that, but they looked like money, and one of them was the most gorgeous mare you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Ana’s ear twitched. Well how about that? She’d paid good bits to buy good ears around the island, listening for just such a mention. She hadn’t expected to be the one to actually make the score. Guess I won’t have to find some bits to pay the finder’s fee after all.

Her eyes traced a lazy trail around the room, stopping on a squad of sailors chattering over their drinks and a small-stakes game of dice. Only one of them seemed to be paying the dice any great attention, his shouts of excitement louder than the others with every roll. The rest were focused on their conversation, paying the game just enough mind to play with their wallets and spirits alike.

“Ye shoulda seen her, friend,” one stallion was saying. “Coat as white as a marshmallow, and the hardest-working mane on the island.”

“What did she call it?” a mare asked, throwing some bits into the pile at the center of the table. “Her coffin? Coffee?”

“Coiffure,” said a second mare.

“Are you sure?” the first mare asked. She chuckled. “That don’t sound like a word to me.”

“What would you know about manes, eh?” the first stallion said. The dice rattled within the cup he held in his hooves. “Ye ain’t touched yer mane in months!”

There was a round of laughter at the table, followed by some good-natured threats and a raising of voices as the dice were thrown. Ana smirked, taking a deeper gulp of her drink. That was Countess Rarity, for sure. Now she just had to wait for the crew to head back to their ship, and find her own way aboard.

“Batty? Is that you?”

Ana suppressed a curse. She looked over to see a pair of thick-bodied earth ponies approaching the table with wide grins. They weren’t very friendly grins.

“I’ll be damned! It is you!” the front stallion said. He turned to his comrade, nudging him with an elbow. “You ever seen a mooncursed, kid? Hey, pull that hood down! Show him your ears!”

Ana rolled her eyes, looking away and leaning back into her seat. “I’m not in the mood for your crap, Kick.”

“Pfft!” Kick landed heavily in the seat opposite her, his hardened vest clanking against the stone. “You’re never in the mood. What’re you doin’ in Straterra, anyways? I didn’t see the Screech anywhere when we came in.”

“I’m on vacation,” Ana said. She waved a hoof at the band. “Sampling the local jazz.”

Kick laughed as if she had told some outrageously clever joke. “I never took you for a record junkie, Bats!” He turned, scanning the room. “Say, where’s that old bird of yours? It’s been too long since we shared a drink.”

“You know how she is, Kick,” Ana said. She smiled, showing her predator teeth. “She doesn’t like eating anything that won’t run from her.”

The other earth stallion cringed, moving to put his back to the wall. Kick chuckled at his companion’s discomfort. “Don’t worry, kid,” he said. “Gava won’t eat you unless you give her a good excuse.” He waved down a serving mare, dipping his head as he pulled a mug of cider from her tray.

“I hope you’re not getting too comfortable,” Ana said, grimacing as he drank deep from the mug and slammed it down onto the table. “The music was just getting good, and I’d hate to have to go find another bar.”

“What, I can’t sit and talk business with a work friend for a few minutes?” Kick asked. He grinned at her, and she glowered back. The other stallion shifted his weight from one side to the other.

Ana stole a quick glance at the sailor crew she’d spotted earlier. They didn’t look like they’d be leaving anytime soon. “A few minutes, then,” she relented.

“Ah, that’s the spirit!” Kick raised his mug in toast, wisely not waiting for her to respond in kind before bringing it to his lips. He let out a content sigh as he came up for air. “How’s work then, eh?”

“It’s working.”

Kick arched a brow. “Two words? That’s all I get?”

Again, Ana rolled her eyes. “If I had a job, Kick, I wouldn’t tell you about it anyways. We’re competitors.”

“Bah! There’s plenty of work to go around, you crazy bat.” He pulled out a folded paper, slapping it down onto the table. “Here, check this out. You hear about those Gifted over in Heighton?”

Buck. Ana let her eyes fall to the paper as it unfolded, revealing the image of a pretty unicorn mare with a swirling mane. The picture was done in shades of grey, but small text beneath it detailed the mare’s description. White coat, purple mane, blue eyes. Gifted, cutie mark unknown. Extreme magical adept. Countess Rarity, wanted alive. Approach with care.

“Who hasn’t?” she said, pulling her gaze from the paper with the practiced nonchalance of an experienced liar. “You getting caught up in that clusterbuck?”

“Everyone who’s anyone is.” Kick smirked, folding the paper back up and sticking it into his vest. “That’s good money, Bats. To be frank, I’m surprised you and your bird haven’t already snatched one up.”

Ana shrugged. “There’s a certain charm to working without having a hundred hungry hunters breathing down your neck.” She stirred a fork in her drink, watching the liquid swirl about.

“Hey, I won’t complain if you’re sitting out,” Kick said. “I’d hate to draw your bird’s ire. It’d be worth it, but it’d be damn inconvenient.”

They sat in silence for several seconds. Ana sipped at her drink. Kick’s smile began to falter as his companion’s fidgeting became more frequent.

“Alright, alright, I can take a hint.” Kick finished his drink, leaving the empty mug on the table as he stood. “Say hi to your bird for me, eh? Hope you don’t mind covering the drink.”

Ana gave a shallow nod, but said nothing. They both knew that she had a habit of procuring bits out of thin air. Kick would probably check his coin purse as soon as he was out of sight, despite her hooves being on the table throughout the whole conversation. She enjoyed the reputation. She liked the way that ponies carried themselves around her, as if she were some mastermind with an extra set of invisible hooves. Most of her did, at least.

Kick beckoned to his friend, and the two of them stepped away. She followed them with her eyes as they settled in at another table with four other earth ponies, each one sporting the same thick bodies and hardened barding. She would have to be more careful. If they figured out that she was following a mark, they would no doubt take a closer look. And if they discovered that she had the same target as them, then things could swiftly become inconvenient.

The sailors she had overheard were still chatting over their dice. It would be too obvious if she waited to follow them out into the street, so she finished her drink and stood up. She licked her lips, pulling out a few bits and leaving them on the table.

She sighed as she stepped out into the street, stretching out cramped legs as the wind toyed with her mane. She spread her wings and took to the sky in search of a warm breeze to carry her weight for a while. Those sailors would finish drinking eventually. She’d be ready to follow them home.

“Twilight!”

“Twilight, help!”

The voices of her parents echoed at her from the darkness. Twilight turned a circle, wide eyes failing to pierce the black veil that surrounded her.

“Where are you?” she called. “Please, I don’t know where you are!”

“Over here, Twilight!” Apple Bloom’s voice came to her as if from a great distance. The faint cries of Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle mixed together beneath it.

“I’m coming!” Twilight splashed through the water around her hooves as she sprinted towards the voice. Was she even moving? She didn’t feel any wind on her face, and their voices weren’t getting any louder. “Hang on!”

The water rose higher around her legs. She found herself grunting as she pushed through a thick sludge that tugged at her chest fur. Looking down, she saw the eyes of her reflection framed in weeping red stains.

Her reflection bared its teeth at her. Hello.

“Twilight? Hey, Twi. Wow, they really weren’t kidding.”

Twilight started as she woke up. She blinked the image of her own grinning face away as she pulled her head off the smooth paper pillow she’d been resting on. “Wh—huh?”

Star Trails snickered at her from behind a hoof. “Stars, AJ said you’d have a funny look on your face, but I didn’t think it’d be a gem like that.”

Twilight shook herself, rubbing at her eyes with a hoof. She felt her cheeks warming as the snicker escalated into a barely-contained chuckle. “What do you want?”

Trails let out a breath, finally calming down. “Phew. We’re all having a little party over in the galley. I thought I’d come invite you over. Your friends all said you’d be sleeping on a book, but I had kinda thought it was just a joke.”

Twilight blinked. She looked down at her pillow, realizing that it was actually a heavy book splayed out on the floor in front of her. She grimaced at the spot where her drool had stained the paper, distorting the small print. She was quick to remove the stain with a flick of well-known magic. “A party? What for?”

“Oh, nothing,” Trails said. “Just, y’know, sending Gava limping off with a bunch of holes in her ship and a bigger one in her pride. Finding a long-dead alicorn princess. Baking some fudge brownies. No reason.” She smirked down at Twilight.

“I don’t feel like partying,” Twilight said. She flipped the book closed, checking the title. A Comprehensive History of the Empty Thrones. “I have work to do.” She went to open it again, only to have Trail’s press down on the cover with a hoof.

“So we all keep hearing,” she said. “C’mon, Twilight. Just come hang out for a few minutes. Would that really be so bad? I might not come back here much, but you’ve got your nose in a different book everytime I do. At least come eat something.”

Twilight’s stomach rumbled at the mention of food. She frowned, looking to her side. She was in the cargo hold, with a mess of books and notes scattered around her right side and the sleeping form of Princess Luna curled up on a mattress to her left. She couldn’t even remember what she had been doing when she fell asleep.

She sighed, standing up. Her bones had begun to ache from lack of activity. If she took some time to eat something, her train of thought would probably come back to her. “Fine. But only for a little bit. This is important research.”

Trails grinned. “Sweet. C’mon.” She turned, beckoning with a sweep of her tail as she started for the door to the hall. “Say, I was meaning to ask your friends but never got around to it. Did they have brownies in your time?”

Ana watched from above, taking careful note of the ponies milling about the deck of the Lucky Coin. It was a cargo hauler by design, with a deep pit in the center of the deck filled with stacked crates and barrels. A tarp could be rolled out to cover them in case of bad weather, but for now the cargo pit was exposed to the afternoon sun, leaving her free to watch the crew guiding the dock crane as it filled the hold.

She was seated on a support strut running along the bottom of an airship, tucked against the hull and shaded by a tethered balloon. She took the last bite out of a peach before cocking her foreleg back and chucking the remains off into the waters far, far below.

After tailing the sailors back to their ship, she had spent the last couple hours watching from on high. The constant air traffic of Straterra made her perch an excellent observation point. With the exception of the Gifted and those who often worked with them, ponies rarely thought to look up.

She needed to find out where that ship was going.

There were a few possible approaches. She could eavesdrop on the crew, but that would risk tipping off Kick and his gang. The smarter thing would probably be to sneak into the port authority and check the manifests. She didn’t think there were any Gifted on the payroll, so it shouldn’t be a difficult job.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a mare with a ridiculously wide-brimmed, pale pink hat stepping out onto the deck. The hat was so large that she couldn’t see anything but the mare’s swirling purple tail.

A shockingly pink mare bounced out just a second later, all but confirming Ana’s suspicions. Countess Rarity and Pinkie spent a couple minutes talking to some sailors before walking out onto the pier. They made for the town at a leisurely pace, smiling as they talked among themselves.

Ana grimaced. There were bounty hunters looking for those mares right now, in that very town, and they were waltzing through the streets without a care in the world. That was her target, her money, walking through a minefield.

She shifted her weight, letting herself fall. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, enjoying the feel of the wind tugging at her ears, before spreading her leathery wings and pulling into a glide. No doubt a few curious eyes saw her descent, but from this distance she was just another Gifted. A rare sight, but not one to comment on.

She landed on the roof of a warehouse near the docks. The Countess and Pinkie hadn’t seen her. The chatter of the crowd made it impossible to understand what they were saying, so Ana settled for shadowing them through the streets. If any other hunters tried anything, she’d be there to see and, if necessary, intervene.

It was about ten minutes later that a better idea came to her.

Gauging their heading, Ana flew up ahead of them. She dropped down into an alley out of their sight. She scooped up some dirt that had collected in a pothole and rubbed it into her cheeks for maximum pity, then settled in to wait. Nobody spared her a single glance.

It didn’t take long for the shrill voice of Pinkie Pie to become clear from the surrounding drone.

“Can we get something to eat, Rarity? I’m hungry, and those cupcakes look both scrumdiddly and umptious!”

“We can eat in a bit, darling. I’m not setting one hoof on Altalusia without a proper wardrobe.”

Altalusia, huh? It rang a bell. Ana knew it was a baronland of some description, but nothing more. Still, the name would be a great help for what came next.

Doing her best impression of a shivering refugee, Ana stepped out into the street and turned towards the Countess’ voice.

“Rarity, watch out!”

Ana let out a surprised grunt as she bumped into the Countess. She threw herself back and down, sprawling out onto the hard floor. “Ow!”

“Oh, heavens,” the Countess gasped. “I’m so sorry!”

Ana squinted up at the other mare, pretending to take a moment to recognize her. “Wh—Auntie Rarity? Auntie Pinkie?”

“Oh, I remember you!” Pinkie said. She beamed as she helped Ana up. “You know Auntie Pinkie never forgets a face!”

“Goodness, look at you!” Rarity grimaced as she pulled out a cloth to rub at the dirt smudged into Ana’s cheeks. “Are you alright?”

Ana pushed the invading hoof aside, making as if to step around the two. “Sorry for bumping into you, Auntie. I shoulda been watching where I was going.”

“I insist that the blame is on me,” Rarity countered, stepping in her way. “Can we help you at all, darling? You look somewhat distressed.”

Ana gave her a narrow smile. She let it drop quickly, as if it took a great deal of energy out of her. “I’m fine, Auntie. Really, you’ve done enough already. I’m just worried about getting back home.”

The two mares exchanged concerned glances. “What about Captain Breezie?” Pinkie asked.

A storm passed over Rarity’s face. She leaned closer to Ana, her voice taking on a dangerous timbre. “Did she send you away? I swear, as Celestia is my witness, if that mare—”

Ana raised her hooves, waving the anger away. “No, nothing like that! Really, Captain Breeze is great. It’s just that I didn’t want to go to Heighton. I have family in Altalusia, and I just know they won’t be able to sleep at nights until they see me again.”

“Altalusia?” Rarity echoed.

“Oh, hey! That’s where we’re going!” Pinkie began to bounce in place, ignoring the looks drawn by the crowd. “You should ask Captain Mercante for a ride.” She stopped bouncing as she sucked in a deep breath. Ana took a step back, wondering if the pink mare was in the midst of a sudden stroke. “We can be bunk buddies!”

It was exactly what she’d been hoping for, yet Ana frowned. There was a part of her which urgently whispered that no amount of money would be worth bunking with Pinkie Pie. She hushed that part of her. Gava was relying on her. “I don’t know, Auntie Pinkie. I don’t really have any money for a room.”

The Countess let out a series of high-pitched titters. “Oh, don’t you fret, dear. I’m certain the good captain won’t mind an extra body. Pinkie and I can share a cabin, and you can have the other.” She smiled, tossing her mane. “Celestia knows that you’ll appreciate having some privacy again.”

Ana blinked. That had gone much smoother than expected. She’d barely even had to ask.

She filed the thought away for later, plastering grateful relief all over her face. “Oh, thank you! Well—are you sure it isn’t too much trouble? I wouldn’t want to—”

“Enough of that, now. Goodness, I don’t think I even know your name!” Rarity let out a soft chuckle. “Pardon me, miss?”

Ana opened her mouth to answer, only to find her name coming in the wrong voice.

“Ana!” Pinkie said. She grinned at Ana. The grin was that of either a child excited at getting a question right or a chessmaster playing the final move. “Isn’t that right, sleepybat?”

“Uh, yeah.” Ana forced a smile over her surprise. I must have told her my name on the Ambrosia. That has to be it. “That’s me.”

“Well, Ana, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The Countess dipped into a prim curtsey. “Now that that’s settled, we simply must discuss your couture.”

Ana drew a blank. The puzzlement on her face was perhaps the first genuine emotion she’d displayed throughout the conversation. “My what?”

Pinkie blew a loud raspberry, squeezing her eyes shut exaggeratedly. “She’s talking about clothes! She always uses those fancy schmancy words for clothes.”

Rarity nodded as if it was obvious. Her giant hat bobbed with the motion. “Why don’t we walk and talk, dears? The street isn’t the best place for idle chatter, after all!”

As if to prove her point, a pair of carts laden with goods rolled past, the clack and clatter of the wheels echoing off the surrounding buildings. The Countess started down the street with a precise step, and Pinkie followed with a snort and a giggle.

Ana fell in beside them. “Auntie Rarity, I don’t have a, uh… couture.”

“And therein lies the problem, of course,” Rarity said. She scanned the signs of passing storefronts as they walked. “How could a lady of fashion such as myself ever be expected to allow such an inspiring figure to go on unadorned?”

Ana cocked her head. Is she… coming on to me?

Rarity continued speaking, oblivious to her confusion. “The nocturnal grace, the feral stance, the dusky tones! I’ve always been inspired by the mysterious beauty of thestrals, you know, but you’re the first I’ve had the chance to really look at up close.” She looked back at Ana with an eager smile. “You absolutely must let me make a dress for you.”

“You want to… make me a dress?” Ana asked. “But I don’t have any bits.” Or rather, I don’t feel like going and taking someone else’s for a new set of fancy clothes.

“The opportunity is payment enough,” Rarity insisted, turning her eyes back to the passing buildings. “I won’t accept any argument on the matter! We’re looking for new fabrics, anyways. I need to expand my own wardrobe as well, you see.” She shot a sweet smile back towards Ana. “I hope you won’t mind accompanying us?”

What are you playing at, Countess? Ana had spent time around royalty before, and they were nearly worse than politicians when it came to forcing people into their greedy hooves. But Ana was the predator here, not the prey. She didn’t plan on sticking around long enough to get pulled into this mare’s plots. If all she had to do to get into her inner circle was accept a free dress, then she’d do it.

Ana smiled back. “I’d love to, Auntie.”

Twilight stared down into her mug. Was there something staring back at her?

“What’s up, Twi?” Rainbow asked, hitting her shoulder with a light punch. “That cider reciting world secrets or something?”

“It damn well better not be,” Flint said from across the table. Twilight looked up to see him narrowing his eyes at her mug like some disappointed uncle. “Th’ brew might reveal th’ truths of the world, but it ain’t supposed to give ‘em up ‘til ye drunk it.”

“Drank,” Twilight corrected.

“Wha?” Flint cocked a brow.

“The word you mean to use is ‘drank’,’” Twilight said. “‘Drunk’ is the past participle conjugation. You should be using the simple past tense form.”

“Filly, are ye tryin’ t’ tell me that ye been asleep fer a thousand years and ye know my grammar better than me?”

“Well…” Twilight tapped a hoof against her mug, thinking. “Actually, that’s an interesting question.”

Dusty Tome was nodding to himself from where he stood, leaned against the kitchenette counter. He had been reading a book for much of the party, but taken the time to mark his page and close it. “Language changes over time, after all,” he said. “And wouldn’t most speakers say that the version they grew up with is what’s correct?”

“Meaning that the ‘true’ version of any language, from a certain perspective, would be the one originally spoken,” Twilight said. “But then how do you define the exact point when a dialect becomes its own language?”

“Stop!” Star Trails jumped in front of Dusty, blocking his view of Twilight. “By the waves, this is supposed to be a party! You two eggheads get a room if you want to debate grammar or whatever.”

Dusty poked his head around her shoulder. “But we weren’t debating.”

“Not yet, anyways,” Twilight said.

“Music change!” Rainbow shot out of her seat. She looked around the room. “C’mon, what’s another good record? Have you guys got any rock?”

They were all gathered in the combination dining room and kitchen that served as a lounge aboard the Argo. A keg of cider occupied one end of the table, a spigot driven into its side. Hay fries and fresh-baked brownies sat on a plate beside it. Sea Sabre fished through a shelf of records before picking out a disc and holding it out to the other pegasus.

Rainbow took it with a nod of thanks, swapping it out for the old record and setting the needle down onto the disc. A quick drum beat filled the room, joined soon after by the rest of the band.

“At risk of startin’ more of that,” Applejack began, “I gotta say this is some mighty good cider, Flint. Y’all say this is homemade?”

“Damn right.” Flint pounded a proud hoof against his chest. “My family’s been brewin’ their own drink since before th’ waters! It’s a drink fit fer royalty, which is why we make sure that none of th’ bastards ever get any!” He slapped Applejack’s shoulder as he laughed, and she let out a little chuckle of her own before lifting her mug to her lips.

Twilight passed some time by watching Rainbow dancing in the limited airspace above the table. She couldn’t help but tap a hoof along to the rhythm herself. She had the urge to gather her friends together and start up a conga line, just like they used to do back in Ponyville at nearly every party Pinkie ever threw. It would seem wrong to do it without the whole group, though.

Satisfied that the crisis was averted, Trails relaxed into a seat at the table. She grabbed a brownie and took a bite. “Y’know what I’ve been wondering?” she began. “What exactly did you ponies do?”

“Huh?” Rainbow asked, pausing her dance mid-roll. She hung in the air upside down as she cocked her head.

“I mean, look at that!” Trails said, gesturing at the pegasus with her brownie. “How the hay do you hover upside down? And you!” She pointed the brownie at Fluttershy, who shrank back into the corner of the room she’d been sitting in. “You stared down a sea serpent!”

“Are you asking what we did for a living?” Twilight asked. “Like our jobs?”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Trails nodded, brownie crumbs collecting on the table in front of her. “Were you some kind of beast master back in your day, Fluttershy?”

“Well, I suppose that would be, um, technically accurate,” Fluttershy said. She tapped a hoof at her chin. “Although I don’t think my furry friends would like being called beasts, and I never thought of myself as their master.”

“I think ‘animal friend’ carries a much more accurate connotation,” Twilight added.

“Yeah, her cottage was a total zoo,” Rainbow said, righting herself and landing on the table. She scooped up a brownie with one wing.

“Not a zoo,” Fluttershy insisted. She hid behind her mane as the groups attention shifted back to her. “Um, that is, zoos aren’t very nice. All I did was open my home to the local woodland critters, really.”

Flint narrowed his eyes at her. “And that’s how ye learned how t’ stare down sea serpents?”

“Well, I really only used The Stare when someone was being really, really, bad,” Fluttershy said. “Celestia knows the chickens would hardly do a thing without it.”

“Chickens, eh?” Flint leaned back, seeming to lose interest.

“Fluttershy, you need to come see me later for bragging lessons,” Rainbow said. She flew over to Flint’s side and nudged him with a leg. “She stared down this huge red dragon once.”

“Dragon?” Flint echoed, leaning back in.

Rainbow grinned. “Sent the big guy crying home to his mommy with a few stern words.”

Fluttershy fidgeted in place. She let out a heavy sigh. “Rainbow, you know I don’t like to brag.”

“That’s not really bragging, Fluttershy,” Trails said. She gave a few slow shakes of her head, looking down at the last bite of her brownie. “A dragon.”

“You think that’s impressive?” Rainbow’s chest swelled as she pumped herself up, pounding a hoof against her side. “Have you ever heard of the legendary Sonic Rainboom?”

Dusty frowned. “But you already told us about that.”

“I’ve heard the story twice, actually,” Trails added, raising a hoof.

“So?” Rainbow dropped down into a chair. She looked up, striking a pose. “It’s an awesome story every time you hear it.”

“Hang on, hang on.” There was a thud as Flint pushed his mug away and leaned forwards. “Ye sayin’ ye can pull off a Sonic Rainboom?”

Trails turned sharply to face him, blinking in surprise. “Wh—she’s told us this story!”

“First I’ve heard of it,” he countered.

A triumphant grin broke across Rainbow’s face. She struck another pose, opening her mouth to begin the story, only for Trails to speak first.

“I have personally seen her tell you this story,” the unicorn said, her voice firm.

“Bah!” Flint waved her off with a hoof. “Name one time!”

“On the dive to Ponyville,” Trails said. “She spent ten minutes on it, and you said it was ‘pretty alright.’”

Several seconds passed while the two crewmates stared each other down, the skepticism in Flint’s eyes meeting the determination in Trails’. Twilight looked from one to the other. She slowly levitated a brownie off the table and took a bite.

“Wait a minute.” Rainbow’s voice cracked when she broke the silence. She flew right up to Flint, sticking her muzzle in his face. “Are you telling me you weren’t even listening?”

Flint pushed her back with a meaty hoof. “Are ye tellin’ me ye thought I was?”

“Of course I did!” Rainbow said. She threw her hooves up with exasperation. “You nodded and made noises and said it was alright and everything!”

Dusty cleared his throat, grabbing the mare’s attention. “For future reference, Rainbow Dash, that means he isn’t listening.”

“Ugh, whatever!” Rainbow plopped down into her seat once more. She crossed her hooves, sulking.

There was a moment of awkward silence as the record shifted into a new song. A slow jazz rock rhythm filled the room. Twilight finished her brownie.

“Damn impressive, though,” Flint said.

Rainbow’s pout twisted into a little grin.

“So what about the rest of you?” Trails asked, her eyes shifting first to Applejack, then Twilight. “We’ve got Fluttershy the beast master and Rainbow Dash the speedster. What are your great mythic feats?”

“Uh… shoot.” Applejack screwed her eyes up. She tapped a hoof against the table in thought. “To be honest, y’all, I kinda just worked my farm and grew apples. Twilight’s the real impressive one.”

Twilight blushed. She looked down at her drink. Her reflection didn’t talk to her. “All I did was read books and cast spells, Applejack.”

“Come on now, sugar cube. Y’all did way more ‘n that,” Applejack insisted.

Fluttershy’s soft voice was difficult to make out over the music playing. “There was that time you brainwashed the entire town into fighting over your childhood doll.”

The music came to an abrupt stop. An actual record scratch? Celestia save me. Twilight turned to see Sea Sabre steadying the phonograph with a hoof. If the normally aloof pegasus’ eyes were any indication, she’d bumped into it in shock.

A soft scraping sound traveled across the little galley as the record spun in place. Twilight lifted the mug to her lips in an attempt to hide the furious blush on her cheeks.

“What was his name, again?” Fluttershy’s innocent voice continued. “Smarty Pants?”

Trails slapped a hoof onto the table. A few tears formed in the corners of her eyes as she laughed.

When Twilight finally ran out of cider and let her mug down once more, she was faced with Flint staring at her in a strange mixture of confusion and awe.

“What th’ buck?”

Twilight stared hard at the bottom of her empty mug. She couldn’t remember any invisibility spells, but she did know a shrinkage spell that would let her crawl into it and hide instead.

For the fifth time, Ana followed Pinkie and the Countess out of a clothing shop with empty hooves.

“Those fabrics all looked fine to me,” Ana said. “So did the ones at the last store, for that matter.”

“That’s what I always say, too,” Pinkie said. “But the clothes I make usually come out all raggedy and pink. What’s that word you like to use, Rarity?”

Rarity looked up and down the street before picking a direction to start down. “Garish, darling.”

“Garish, that’s it!” Pinkie gave a few big nods as she began to bounce after the other mare. “So unless you want a garish culture, you should probably listen to what she says. Rarity really knows her clothes!”

Ana blinked. “You make clothes too?” She broke into a trot to catch up with the other two mares.

Pinkie giggled. “I try, sometimes!”

“Proper fabric makes the difference between clothes and art, dears,” the Countess said. “And although I could settle for making clothes, I certainly won’t let a bit of walking keep me from art!” She hummed to herself as an airship passed in front of the setting sun, dropping the orange street into its shadow. “And besides, it’s been too long since I had the chance to enjoy some proper shopping.”

“I’ve never considered shopping to be more than a chore,” Ana muttered.

The Countess said something in response. It was probably something about introducing Ana to ‘proper shopping’ or another burst of inspired artistry, but Ana didn’t hear it. She was far more focused on the familiar armored stallion approaching from down the street, and the half-dozen ponies flanking him.

Ana swept her eyes across the street in search of an exit. If Kick saw them, then things could get complicated. She had no doubt that he would try to grab Pinkie and the Countess right off the street. Worse yet, he might reveal to them Ana’s true identity.

There were no alleys close enough for escape. No convenient crowds to get lost in or wagons to walk behind. She was short on options.

“This place looks pretty good,” Ana said, interrupting something Pinkie was saying about an itch on her knee. She nodded at an unlabeled storefront. If not for the OPEN sign hanging on the door by a single frayed cord, she would have probably thought it was a home.

“Oh, uhm, is that so?” Rarity asked, eyeing the chipped white paint, faded into grey.

Ana shrugged, stealing a glance towards Kick. One of his underlings was squinting in her direction. Ah, buck. “I’ve got a hunch. I thought you liked shopping?”

Rarity waved a hoof as she giggled. “Oh, well I suppose as long as you’re getting into the spirit we might as well give it a try.”

Ana didn’t waste any time in opening the door. A jingling bell was just barely audible over the din of the crowd. She ushered the mares in as Rarity continued to talk.

“Who knows, maybe it’ll turn out—oh, goodness.”

Ana closed the door behind her as she brought up the rear. She turned to scan the room, and found that her excuse of a hunch might turn out to be true after all. Rolls of colored fabric sat on neat rows on angled shelves, weaving through the warm-lit room like a rainbow river. A single surprised mare watched them from behind the counter, flanked by an array of needles, scissors, knives, and other sewing tools.

“Uh, hi there,” the mare behind the counter said, blinking away her shock. “Can I… help you?”

“Do you know, I think you just might be the exact mare we’ve been looking for.” Rarity shot a giddy smile Ana’s way, her forehooves bouncing with excitement. “You’ve got quite the eye, darling.”

Ana responded with a brief nod before turning her attention back to the store. It was a cramped affair, the whole thing giving the impression of a larger front squeezed into a small space. There were only five shelves, including the two on the walls, but each one was wide enough to hold rolls of fabric over a meter long. The tight quarters wouldn’t favor her over the burly earth ponies of Kick’s squad, but perhaps they hadn’t seen her in time.

If not, then the question became one of how hard to fight.

Ana’s view of the door was blocked by a shelf of fabrics ranging from a deep blue to a pale green, but she still stiffened when she heard the jingling that signaled its opening. Heavy hooves in heavy shoes stepped inside.

“Hey there, pretty mares.”

“Oh, good evening, gentlecolts.”

“Hiya, guys!”

“Can I help you… all?”

Ana the bounty hunter was an experienced close quarters combatant that, in a tight space, could provide a challenge even for a group of six earth pony mercenaries. Ana the refugee, however, should be a frightened and helpless thing. If her targets saw too much of her true self, she might have to move up her timetable.

But perhaps there was a bright side. Her two targets were supposedly some of the most powerful Gifted to set hoof on dry land in centuries. It was this uncertainty that had kept Ana from ambushing them in a clothing store already. Maybe this was an opportunity to see just how well they could defend themselves

More heavy hooves filed inside. She could hear them spreading out to block the door. The bell jingled one last time as the door was deliberately closed.

One of Kick’s underlings stepped into sight, looking down her aisle. It was the young one from the bar. His eyes widened as he saw her standing there. He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a strained croak.

Ana bared her teeth. “Hey, kid.”

Rarity didn’t like the look of these stallions. They eyed her and Pinkie with hungry gazes, and they were hardly dressed for an afternoon stroll. Sea Sabre had told them that every public appearance painted a new target on their backs, but she had nearly forgotten the warning by now.

A gang of bounty hunters interrupting a nice, relaxing shopping trip was a rather abrupt reminder, she thought.

She stood taller, letting the brim of her hat slide back so she could meet the leader’s gaze without interruption. She was a countess, after all.

The gruff earth stallion looked her over top to bottom, his jaw shuffling side to side as he chewed something.

Pinkie leaned in to Rarity’s ear, whispering loud enough for the whole room to hear her. “Rarity, he looks hungry! I told you we should have stopped to eat!”

Rarity sighed. And it was shaping up to be such a theatrical moment, too.

“I get the idea you know what’s going on here, Countess,” the stallion said, a laughing grin pulling at the corner of his lips. “So why don’t you come with us quiet, and we won’t have to ruin this nice filly’s store.”

“You have got to be kidding me!” the counter mare shouted. Rarity and the stallion both jumped. They turned to watch the young pony slam her hooves into the countertop. “Two months seeing nopony but the same tired old mares crocheting hats for their grandfoals! Here I thought my luck might be changing, but no! Just bounty hunters coming in to do their business! Bah!”

The mare flung her hooves up before stepping out from behind the counter. She stomped past Rarity and Pinkie, even causing the bounty hunters that towered over her to flinch back as she approached.

“Just buck it all, then!” the mare shouted. “I’m going out for dinner!”

She shoved the lead hunter aside, opened the door, and slammed it closed behind her. Her frenzied shouts faded into the distance.

Rarity and the lead hunter met each other’s gazes once more.

“Well, since I suppose that’s settled,” he said. “Hard way, or easy way?”

Pinkie Pie growled at him, her tail twitching. Rarity’s heart fluttered in her chest. Was it already time for the beautiful countess to defend herself from a gang of ignoble rogues? She would be lying if she said she wasn’t afraid, but she was comforted by her surroundings. Her magic was its very best when working with fabric.

If she were being quite honest, the question at the forefront of her mind just then was which colors she would have to ruin.

She flicked her horn to the right, grabbing a roll of cloth off the shelves with her magic. It was a fetching pale blue that she felt would compliment Ana’s eyes nicely, and if she was going to have pay for it anyways, then she wanted something she liked. On the other side of the shelf she caught a brief glimpse of Ana staring down a younger stallion. Rarity had just enough time to feel the chill from the thestral’s glare before she ripped a section from the roll and tossed it at the lead hunter.

The stallion sputtered as the cloth tightened around his face, compelled by her magic. Rarity shoved herself into his armored chest with all her strength, and a high-pitched “Oof!” escaped her as she bounced off and landed on her rump.

The hunter tore the cloth from his face with a furious roar, all the more fearsome for the way he glared down at her. He reached out with his thick legs and grabbed her, pressing his weight down onto her back and sending her hat flying.

“Get off me, you ruffian!” Rarity’s eye scanned the shelves. She spotted a pleasant soft pink that would do well as some contrasting highlights for Ana and flung the entire roll at the stallion.

Cloth was soft, but Rarity knew from experience how hard a full roll could hit. The stallion’s roar cut off with a yelp as he fell off her, and it only took Rarity three quick seconds to wrap his limbs in a gorgeous pink bow that clashed horribly with everything about him.

Her heart was pounding so loud that she could barely hear anything. Something nagged at her as she stared at the stallion struggling in vain against his bonds.

Hard shoes kicked her in the side, and as she collapsed against the adjacent shelf she remembered that there was more than one bounty hunter.

She lit her horn as she rolled onto her back, spotting her new assailant brandishing the ends of a chain in his hooves. He reared up and slammed his hooves into the shelf on either side of her, and Rarity let out a rising shriek as she, the stallion, and the shelf all fell backwards.

A roll of cloth smacked into her horn, shorting out her magic. She tried again, only for the stallion to headbutt her and break her concentration once more.

“Sorry, miss,” the stallion growled, grunting as he struggled to pin her legs against her belly. “No magic!”

“Uncouth barbarian!” Rarity shot back. She clenched her jaw as she pulled her head back and slammed it into his. Her vision burst into stars at the impact, but the weight pressing down her lightened. Her magic reached out, grabbing the fabrics that had fallen around her and throwing them all in the vague direction of her attacker.

Rarity was vaguely aware of Pinkie singing a song somewhere nearby. She sounded happy. There was a great deal of shouting, too, which didn’t sound nearly as happy.

Rarity’s chest heaved as she clambered to her hooves, sucking in a deep breath. At the same time she saw the chain-bearing stallion tearing himself loose from the pile of heavy cloth she’d thrown onto him.

She gasped as one of the fabrics, a hideous off orange-brown, was torn in two by his strength. “No! You monster!” She grabbed the torn fragments in her magic and wadded them up, using them like bludgeons as she pummeled him. “What am I supposed to do with fulvous? Fulvous doesn’t go with anypony!”

The stallion’s armor was tough, but it left his face bare to her righteous fury. He flinched back from the power of the onslaught, and her magic transformed the fulvous fists into a set of bindings that matched only with his terrible sense of fashion.

“Rarity, look out!”

Pinkie’s voice cut through the haze. Rarity ducked on instinct, only to be struck square in the rear by a heavy object that let out a deep-voiced, “Oof!”

“Ugh!” Rarity bounced into the shelf in front of her, driving it into a ponderous tumble. Fabric rained down on top of her. “Agh! Stop bumping into me, you brutes!”

Rarity roared as she burst out of the pile of cloth, her magic gripping each one like fabulous clubs. Her narrowed eyes locked onto the three bounty hunters picking themselves up around Pinkie. The other mare watched her with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open.

One of the hunters gathered himself enough to toss a punch at Pinkie. Her leg twitched, and she danced out of the way without looking. Her shock at Rarity’s outburst gave way to a characteristic gigglesnort as the stallion tripped over her tail and landed in a pile of fuchsia cloth.

“Mismatched troglodytes!” Rarity let loose with her rainbow arsenal.

The remaining bounty hunters were helpless against the sheer mass of attacks that came at them. They could each dodge a few swings and absorb a couple blows, but they only lasted seconds before falling to the floor and covering their heads with their hooves. The pale blue glow of Rarity’s magic cast dark shadows over their faces as their legs were bound with elaborate knots.

Rarity could hear the blood rushing in her ears. She stood with legs spread wide in the middle of the store, surrounded by the chaos of broken shelving and unrolled cloth.

“Wow, Rarity,” Pinkie chirped. “You really let loose!”

Rarity took a deep breath. A lady must not lose her temper! Slowly, she released her grip on her textile weaponry. She closed her eyes and cleared her throat. She pushed out a polite, “Apologies, darling. Sometimes the situation just… gets the better of me.”

A wooden creaking came from behind her. Rarity’s calming pulse accelerated once more as she twirled about, grabbing a roll of cherry-red cloth in her magic.

The last standing shelf groaned as it fell over. A wide-eyed Ana stared at the two Gifted mares. A younger bounty hunter rolled on the ground at her hooves, groaning.

The rage left Rarity in an instant. She dropped her bludgeon and rushed to the poor refugee’s side, all her anger forgotten in the wake of fresh concern. “Goodness, dear! Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

Ana blinked. She looked down to the groaning young hunter. “I’m fine, Auntie.” She met the Countess’ eyes once more and gave her a weak grin. “Got lucky, I guess.”

Lucky I didn’t try to take the two of you on myself, that is. The inexperienced bounty hunter had been taken care of in seconds. Ana had spent the last minute just watching her targets do an admirable job of defending themselves.

By Luna, that mare is a weapon. On one hoof, the Countess certainly didn’t come off as a threat when she was busy prancing through clothing stores or recoiling at every mote of dust that drifted into view. But on the other, Ana had just watched her swing a roll of soft cloth hard enough to knock down a muscled earth pony. And she could swing a lot of them. And the price on those heads will only go up once word gets out what they did here.

“Well, I’m certainly glad to hear it.” Rarity glared down at the young stallion on the floor. Her horn glowed, and some pieces of weird brown-orange cloth floated over to wrap his legs up. The mare held herself as if she were wrapping him with a rope she had pulled out of a sewer.

Ana looked over to Pinkie, who gave her a friendly wave. She hadn’t been able to see the bouncy Gifted for most of the fight, but she had seen how easily she dodged that punch. Without looking, even. There wasn’t a single scratch on her bright pink coat.

“Can we go eat now?” Pinkie asked. “I’ve really worked up an appetite!”

“Just hold on a bit longer, dear,” Rarity said, waving a hoof at Pinkie as she began to pick through the chaos of the shop. “I saw a few good colors during the fight, and I want to get them while I’m here.” She paused, glancing at the door. “We really should find that nice shopkeeper, too. I’ll have to compensate her for all the trouble.”

For a brief moment, Ana was struck with a powerful urge to run. These mares are dangerous. You’re out of your league.

She held herself firm, pushing the doubts down. She had hunted dangerous ponies before. With enough time to plan and observe, any obstacle could be overcome. It was just a matter of time and resources.

And she believed that she had just earned some very valuable trust.

Author's Note

[Will Rarity and Pinkie discover the traitor in their midst? Will Ana's sinister plan go on without a hitch? And will Twilight actually be able to hide inside an empty cider mug?

Find out next time on Empty Horizons!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EDEONC69vu4&list=PLdlZZmhB8NZKBTAHgh7YkHjVvwKJJEdsH&index=44)

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Supplement: Twilight's Notes on Post-Alicorn Equestria

Author's Note

This chapter is purely SUPPLEMENTAL. The content contained herein is not necessary for the enjoyment of the central story, and is intended only for readers that desire some extra context for the setting. Feel free to skip this chapter. You can always come back later.

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Supplement: Twilight's Notes on Post-Alicorn Equestria

Research Notes, Entry Twenty-Three
25th of May, 673 Anno Caeli, 11:16 PM

I have finally managed to finish my copy of A Comprehensive History of the Empty Thrones, a text which I believe was commissioned by a merchant lord for use in the classes of his fleets, and I think I’m starting to get a picture of just how Equestria has continued functioning in the absence of the ruling Alicorn Princesses.

As an aside, I do find it interesting that the merchant lords tend to educate foals born on their ships privately, a standard which has led to fleet-born foals being, on average, far better educated than those born in baronlands or cities. Is it perhaps due to the extra demand for educated labor during extended airship travel? Maybe some way of influencing crew away from the decision of leaving the fleet? I’ll look into it more later.

Primary source interviews with the crew of the Argo has revealed that the Equestrian populace at large views the Princesses as something akin to true goddesses. Many of them believe that they are still being watched and protected by their spirits, as clearly evidenced by the church congregations I’ve seen in every settlement I’ve visited. Most of the remainder see the Princesses as tragic historical figures, to be respected and honored but not worshipped.

There is also a small minority—whom I have not had the opportunity to speak to as of yet—who believes that the Princesses never existed at all. Dusty Tome tells me he has even met ponies before who told him that all of Old Equestria was just a myth propagated by the Equestrian elite. He shared my amazement that such ponies could hold firm on their conspiracies in the face of so much evidence.

The religious majority are split into a shocking variety of denominations, which oddly seem to favor worshipping only one of the sisters at the expense of the other. This is perhaps due to a long series of religious conflicts during the early reconstruction period.

It is a common belief in particular religious sects that their favored Princess was a martyr who died defending them, and it’s unfortunate that many of them also believe the other Princess to be the cause of the apocalypse.

On the bright side, the redevelopment of Equestrian civilization has helped to suppress religious conflict in modern times, as ponies have ceased identifying themselves primarily by their religion. The common ponies are more united now than they have been in hundreds of years of written history. Which is to say, they are not very united at all.

The problem is most obvious at the higher levels of Equestrian society. Although every island is nominally part of the same Equestrian Diarchy, their political unity appears to be little more than lip service.

Petty Print’s Papers on the Pony Political Paradigm is an unusual gem on the subject. Although it seems that explicitly pointing out these flaws is frowned upon in Equestrian society, Print has put together a stellar collection of primary sources, stitched together with his own thrilling commentary.

I found the following passage starting at paragraph 70 to be a particularly astute summation of the subject:

At a glance, it’s a simple, practical method of government. Each island sends its representative to Parliament, each representative gets a vote, and a simple majority passes a bill.

But the ugliness of the system comes out in the details. The labyrinthine flaws of the Diarchy’s constitution are covered in depth in other sections, so I shall focus on the greatest issues.

At its core, the very concept of the elected representative is largely ignored by most of Equestria. The concept of any form of democracy coming out of a baronland is laughable. Any noble that can assert his dominance over a land openly appoints a loyal representative. If a clear winner does not exist, then no representative could ever hope to leave the island alive.

The politickers of the cities still hold elections, it is true. It is quite telling, however, that Heighton has not had an incumbent mayor lose an election in the last twenty years. The other cities are not notably better.

At first it might appear odd that the merchant lords are those who most hold true to the spirit of democracy. Indeed, many of them seem to take great satisfaction from holding and winning fair elections. The issue is that they all believe democracy is about voting with one’s bits, as opposed to one’s person.

But the issues compound. Parliament convenes for two months every year, and Equestria is lucky if they can decide where to hold the next assembly within the first five weeks. This is often the most productive part of the legislative year, as the representatives trade favors and political currency during the process.

With their initial bickering and posturing finished, those looking to enact a nationwide change must gather support from a twentieth of the assembly to change a petition into a submission. A simple majority passes the bill, but gaining this majority is perhaps the most difficult task a pony could ever set themselves to.

This is because the original writers of the constitution saw fit to reserve two seats for the lost Princesses. Each of the Vacant Thrones accounts for a tenth of the assembly’s voting power, meaning that a full fifth of Parliament has abstained on every vote in modern history. This means that a “simple majority” is practically over six tenths of the assembly. There are ponies who have attempted to remove the Vacant Thrones, but none have succeeded. The islands enjoy their independence, and the Thrones are a key part of it.

If some Equestrian hero does accomplish the task of passing a bill, they must then contend with the lack of enforcement. Parliament is technically in control of a militia to be used for defense of Equestria and domestic enforcement, but this militia is built entirely from donations. A perceptive reader might correctly imagine that there are no donations.

The end result is so near to anarchy that it may as well be. Bills cannot be passed and laws cannot be enforced. At times, I wonder if the invasion of some foreign power is the only thing that could ever reforge Equestria into a united polity.

Every source I check is largely in agreement: Equestria as a nation no longer exists in anything more than name.

Copying this passage again does make me wonder, however. Have any resources been devoted to exploring the world for survivors outside of Equestria? I have read accounts of interactions with gryphons, thestrals, and even a couple dragons throughout modern history. I have also personally encountered a living gryphon, though she was in no state to be interviewed.

And yet the censuses I have reviewed would imply that these species do not have the population to sustain themselves. There are logically two possibilities. Either the census-takers are flawed, or there is some land beyond the Equestrian known world where these demographical anomalies hail from.

I suppose it is also a technical possibility that my math is simply incorrect, but I have already checked it five times. See Addendum C for reference.

It has been too long since I’ve had access to a library. I will have to investigate the matter further once I find one.

XVII: The Ruin

Twilight yawned as she levitated the little box out of the cupboard. She set it down onto the kitchenette counter and opened the top. She spent a few seconds eyeing the emptiness inside, as if willing her eyes to be wrong.

We’re out of tea. The ticking of the ship’s mechanisms seemed to laugh at her.

She had been up for twenty hours the last time she checked the clock, hours ago, but it was only then that she began to feel tired.

Hoofsteps walked into the galley behind her. “Hey, Twilight,” Trails said. “Another late night?”

Twilight turned to face the other mare. “We’re out of tea.”

Trails shrugged as she walked up to Twilight’s side and pulled the tin of ground coffee sitting on the counter closer to her. “Want some coffee?”

“I don’t really like coffee.”

Trails smirked as she scooped several tablespoons of coffee into the percolator. “Want some sleep?”

Twilight pouted, looking away. “Not right now.”

“Coffee it is, then.”

Twilight watched as Trails set the percolator onto one of the ship’s small burners. There was a soft fwoosh as the fire flickered into being, and Trails turned to face her.

It was late. Twilight didn’t know what time it was exactly, but she knew that. Or maybe it was early, instead? She didn’t usually see her up at this time, whatever it was. Sabre must have begun posting watches.

“How’s your work going?” Trails asked.

Twilight blinked, not expecting the question. “You’re not going to try and get me to go to sleep?”

Trails shrugged again. “Would you do it?”

Twilight shook her head. She wrinkled her nose at the scent of the coffee brewing. “Not for a few more hours, at least.” She had been reviewing some magical fundamental texts, comparing them with the two anatomy books she had brought with her from Heighton. She didn’t have any records of anything but the most basic diagnostic spells, but with her strong knowledge of fundamentals she thought she might be able to figure something out for Rainbow.

“No point in trying, then,” Trails said. She smiled as the percolator went quiet, and grabbed a couple mugs that had been drying next to the sink. “How do you like your coffee?”

“I don’t,” Twilight said. “Some honey will help, though.”

“Heh. That might be the first joke I’ve heard out of you.” The rhythmic impact of the spoon against the mug filled the room as Trails mixed sugar and cream into the drinks. “You’ll probably want to be awake a few more hours, anyways. We’re almost at Fellis.”

“What!?” Twilight flinched at the volume of her own voice. Trails chuckled under her breath. “Sorry, sorry, I just—I didn’t think we were even close, yet. Didn’t we have a couple more days to go?”

“Time flies when you don’t sleep.” Trails held one of the coffees out to Twilight, who nodded her thanks and grabbed it in her magic. “I was about to start waking ponies. Want to come up front and watch the islandrise?”

Twilight gave a few rapid nods as she took deep gulps from the mug. The unexpected passage of days had helped rouse her, but the sweet, warm liquid settled her jittery alertness into something more solid.

“Let’s go, then,” Trails said. She led the way out of the galley, and Twilight fell in besides her.

A thought occurred to her. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something, Trails. Other things kept popping up, but this seems like a good time.”

“Shoot.”

“When we were down in the Everfree, fighting against that sea serpent,” Twilight began, “I was teetering on the brink of total panic the whole time. I know my friends were, too, and Flint was even saying that we should turn back.” Her pulse picked up as she remembered the feeling of being tossed around in the tiny sub, knowing that something far larger was trying to break into it. “You were scared, too, right?”

Trails shot her an odd glance. There was a hiss of steam as they waited for a door to open. “I think we all were, Twi. Hay, even Sabre had about given up at the end there.”

“But you didn’t want to turn back.”

“Huh?” Trails cocked a brow. “What are you getting at?”

“Flint wanted to turn back,” Twilight said. Pale light trickled in through the portholes as they approached the bridge. “He didn’t want to keep going.” She paused, meeting the other mare’s confused gaze. “I was surprised you didn’t agree with him.”

“Oh. I get it, I think.” Trails turned away from her. They walked in silence for a few seconds. “I ever tell you about my cutie mark?”

“I admit that I have been curious,” Twilight said, looking out a window. The ocean seemed so peaceful at this height. “But we’re always so busy, and I didn’t know if it would be rude to ask, or—”

“Pfft.” Trails cut her off with a snort. “It’s no big deal. Here, check it out.”

The two mares came to a stop next to a window just a few steps away from the door to the bridge. Star Trails sat back on her haunches, set her coffee down on the ground, and pulled the hem of her drab tunic up so Twilight could get a clear look at her flank.

A swirling path of white sparkles curved across Trails’ pastel blue flank. Thin white lines connected them, giving the impression of a constellation of stars reflected in a calm sea

“Fascinating. Is that an actual constellation?” Twilight turned to the window to look at the sky, but the pale dawn light was already starting to wash out the stars. “I don’t recognize it, and I loved practicing astronomy in my time.”

“You too, huh?” Trails let out a thoughtful hum as she smoothed her uniform back down. “If it’s a constellation, I haven’t found it yet.”

“What does it mean?”

“I have trouble getting lost,” Trails said. She nodded towards the window and the few stars left visible through it. “As long as I can see the stars, I know where I am. I’ve got a good sense of direction otherwise, too, but it’s the stellar navigation that ponies are always willing to pay for.”

She stepped up to Twilight’s side, and the two of them watched the sun rise. “I’ve probably spent more time than anypony alive looking at the stars, Twilight, guiding merchant ships all over Equestria. It never really satisfied, though, y’know?”

“Is that why you started diving?” Twilight asked.

Trails grinned. “It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? Yeah, Sabre approached me a couple years ago. Crazy had given her some crazy budget to put a team and ship together, and she wanted me as a navigator. About a month later she was looking for a scout to take down on dives, and I convinced her to bring me instead.” She tapped a hoof against her horn. “This thing was pretty helpful for that.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question, though,” Twilight said, frowning. “Flint was a soldier, and he’s been with Sabre longer, but he wanted to turn back. You didn’t.”

Trails shrugged. She picked her mug up off the floor and turned towards the bridge. “I guess I’ve just got that explorer’s spirit. Flint talks a lot about how he’s in it for the money, but I think it’s more cause he and Sabre have been through a lot. They stick together.” She sipped at her coffee. A satisfied ‘aah’ escaped her as she pulled the mug from her lips. “Or maybe I just spend too much time looking at stars. Following Princess Luna seemed… worth it.”

Twilight wasn’t quite sure what to say about that. She had always seen Trails as a joker, as a pony fundamentally separated from her by hundreds of years of cultural distance. Now for the first time she was seeing something different. Trails might not be a scholar, but she had that same drive to observe the unknown as Twilight did. In the face of imminent death, she had pressed on.

Twilight thought back to how Trails had looked at Princess Luna sleeping. She had visited the cargo hold more often than the rest of the crew, but Twilight had always dismissed it as Sabre just sending the most sociable member of her crew to check in on her. Maybe she just wanted to see the Princess?

“Wow, what the hay is in this coffee, huh?” Trails chuckled, shaking her head. The joker slid back into place. “Getting me all philosophical. C’mon, let’s check out this island and then we can wake everypony else.”

Displaced air ruffled Twilight’s mane as the steam-powered door to the bridge pulled itself open. She followed Trails inside, eyes already aimed towards the thick glass at the far end of the room. “How much longer?”

“Huh.” Twilight turned to Trails. The other mare had a puzzled frown on her face. “We should be able to see it already.”

“It’s probably just some error in our course,” Twilight said. She walked up to the wide table where she often saw Trails and Sunfeather working with the charts. A little booklet on the edge contained a list of maneuvers, each one checked off. She grimaced as she tried to parse the thick script. “Who wrote this?”

“Yeah, Sunny’s weird like that,” Trails said, pulling the booklet closer to her. “You see a pegasus so you think, hey, she must have some great script, right? Writing with a pen tucked in your feathers gives a lot more precision than a mouth or hooves. But nope, she’s got this ugly scrawl that’s even worse than Flint’s.”

Trails sipped at her coffee as she looked over the notes. “I’m just shocked because it’s been so long since I’ve been on a ship that went off course. Sabre didn’t just grab us for nothing, you know? I’m the best navigator she could find, and Sunfeather was the best pilot. I don’t think we’ve ever gone off course before.”

A chill raced down Twilight’s spine. She turned back to the window. “Oh, buck.”

“Whoa,” Trails said. “I think that’s the closest I’ve ever heard you get to cursing.”

“No, no, no, no!” Twilight leapt down the stairs to the bridge’s lower level, scrambling over to the vacant control dais. “How do I speed this up? We have to go faster!”

“Chill, Twi.” Trails followed at a steady pace. Each slow step sent a spike of irritation through Twilight’s thoughts. “What’s got you all worked up?”

“Hasn’t there been some strange natural disasters happening lately?” Twilight asked. She squinted at the controls, trying to figure them out. “I know I read about it somewhere. Islands falling out of the sky. Well if you and Sunfeather aren’t wrong, then what other possibility is there?”

Trails blinked. She looked through the glass behind Twilight, and her face went pale. “Oh, fuck.”

Twilight’s heart sank. She didn’t want to turn around. With limbs like lead she twisted in place to look at the horizon. Fellis Island was nowhere to be seen in the sky, but the cracked peak of its tallest mountain could be seen resting beneath the cloud of wooden scrap bobbing on the waves.

The hot coffee burnt her coat as the mug fell from her magical grasp, and she barely felt it.

In the end, Ana decided, everything had gone more or less as planned.

She was in her cabin aboard the Lucky Coin. Well, not really my cabin, she reflected, eyeing the preposterous pinkness of the place. Pinkie might have had one day, at most, to settle into this cabin. Where did she even find the time?

Captain Mercante had put up some resistance at the idea of taking on a passenger so last-minute, but the Countess hadn’t backed down. She’d placated the surly stallion with promises of compensation and consideration, assuring him that it would be no trouble on his part. After all, she had said, all he had to do was accept payment for another passenger and let Rarity buy some extra provisions. No trouble at all, right?

Ana had seen the look on his face, though. He didn’t want her aboard because she was a thestral, not because she was unexpected. Most ponies had never seen a thestral in their lives, but all of them could agree on one thing: they couldn’t be trusted. Ana took a certain pleasure in proving the suspicious bastards right. Even when they were looking, they couldn’t see what she didn’t want them to.

Flicking her tail at the offensive pink assaulting her eyes, Ana let herself plop down onto the cabin’s single bed. It was almost as comfortable as the one she had back on the Roc’s Screech, but lacked that touch of home. Still, it was the nicest place she’d laid her head since she’d split up with Gava.

Her mind drifted as the last dregs of sunset filtering through her window faded away. She wondered how her adopted sister was faring. No doubt the other four Gifted were just as dangerous as the two she’d attached herself to. Gava was exactly the sort to rush in and try something without thinking. That was where Ana usually came in to hold her back until a proper plan was in place.

At the same time, Gava was the sort to fight her way out of the trouble she got herself into. There had been a few times where Gava had stopped a bounty from escaping with her headstrong aggression, and then kept them both alive throughout the consequences. Maybe Gava was already following the trail Ana had left, bounties in tow. Maybe Gava would have already captured Pinkie and the Countess if their places were swapped. Probably, even.

One of Ana’s wings ached, perhaps remembering an old wound. She rolled onto her side and came muzzle-to-muzzle with Pinkie Pie.

“Hi there!”

“Agh!” Ana’s wings popped open, throwing her back against the wall. “What are you doing!?”

Pinkie giggled, straightening up. “I just wanted to get a few special things from my room before you got all settled in, silly!”

Ana watched with wide eyes as the mare pranced over to a padlocked pink pantry set against the wall. She knocked her head against it, and the padlock promptly popped to pieces. She reached in and grabbed a cloud of balloons.

“How do you like the room?” Pinkie asked, turning for the door. “I didn’t really have time to pack, so I hope you don’t mind the pink!”

Ana blinked, her mind struggling to catch up. “It’s—nice.”

“Glad you like it!” Pinkie put her free hoof on the doorknob. She hopped in place, as if startled. “Oh oh oh! Rarity wanted me to tell you to sleep well tonight. She’ll want to measure you tomorrow!”

Ana’s heart was finally beginning to relax. “Uh, thanks?”

“Good night, Ana!” Pinkie said, opening the door and closing it behind her.

Ana watched the door for several seconds before remembering herself enough to say, “Good night, Auntie.”

She laid her head back on the pillow. The bed felt far less comfortable to her. After some debate, she decided she would let herself fall asleep. Still, she stared at the closed door for some time before finally drifting off.

Twilight hesitated as she looked down into the helmet. It wasn’t the same one she had worn down in the Everfree. The thick glass visor was clean, devoid of cracks or blemishes. And yet she could almost still see it there.

“Are you good to dive?”

Twilight looked up, seeing Sea Sabre enter the little ready room. The other mare looked more than at home in her custom-built dive armor. Twilight’s eyes lingered on the barely visible gleam of the sheathed blades on her wings.

“I’ll be fine,” she said. She took a deep breath and levitated the helmet over her head. The world was reduced to a little circle of glass with a snap and a hiss. The suit’s clockwork machinery began to spin up, the steady tick-tocking doing little to calm the pit that had formed in her stomach. “I’m not going to leave Rarity and Pinkie down there.”

Sabre gave a curt nod. “I wanted to confirm that you’re giving me tactical command for the dive.”

Twilight stood up, refamiliarizing herself with the armor’s weight. “What do you mean?”

“In the Everfree, you followed Flint into Princess Luna’s chamber against my—” Sabre paused, eyes narrowing. “Recommendation. I understand that Mr. Rich has placed my team under your command, and you are an impressive mare in your own right. But you lack experience in several fields.”

Twilight nodded. She was glad that the visor kept her from having to meet Sabre’s eyes. “You’re right. You definitely know what you’re doing, and I should listen to you while we’re down under.” She grimaced, wondering what to say next. Sabre didn’t seem like the type of pony who cared about apologies.

Sabre saved her from having to figure it out. “I appreciate it,” she said. “Let’s go.”

Twilight followed her out into the hall. It was just a short walk to reach one of the two hatches that led to the submarine’s docking clamp. She resisted the impulse to look out the passing windows, instead letting her attention fall to the commotion next to the hatch.

Rainbow Dash was hovering mid-air, her muzzle pushed into Flint’s face. “What do you mean, I’m not going? Of course I’m going! Those are my friends down there!”

Flint didn’t back down. His thick armor helped give the impression of towering over the mare, despite looking up at her. “Sabre says yer not goin’, so yer not goin’.”

Applejack and Fluttershy were sitting on their haunches against a bulkhead, the latter carefully watching her hooves. Applejack’s hat was perched awkwardly atop her helmet, while Fluttershy wore nothing. Star Trails was pacing back and forth the narrow hall, her helmet hanging from a clip on her armored flank.

She looked up as Twilight and Sea Sabre approached. “Oh, hey. Glad you’re here. This one’s causing a bit of a ruckus.”

“Ruckus?” Rainbow echoed, rounding on Trails. “I’m tired of sitting around and watching! I want to help!”

“Rainbow Dash!” Sabre barked. Twilight flinched back, suddenly feeling as if she had done something wrong. She saw Fluttershy slide herself behind Applejack’s steady form. “What is your fatal flaw?”

Flint let out a low chuckle. “Ooh, ye done it now.”

Rainbow faltered, her anger slipping into hesitation for just a moment before settling on thin-lipped determination. She landed in front of Sabre, meeting her eyes. “It’s—discipline. Ma’am.”

“Correct.” Although Sabre had lowered her voice, her presence seemed only more imposing for it. “And what is the first rule of your training?”

At first, Rainbow said nothing. Her tail flicked side to side as she stared into Sabre’s hard, red-eyed gaze with a single fiery cerise eye. Even with an eyepatch, her glare seemed just as intense as it had always been.

After agonizing seconds, Rainbow spoke. “Obey your orders. Ma’am.”

Sabre’s head bobbed in a single slow nod. “I’m not letting anything sneak up on my ship again, Rainbow Dash. You will be patrolling the surrounding airspace and watching for threats until we return from the dive. Is that understood, or do you no longer wish to train with me?”

Rainbow took a deep breath. Keeping her eye fixed on Sabre’s, she forced out the words. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Sabre stepped past her, stopping in front of Flint. She sat back on her haunches and secured her helmet to her suit, sending small jets of steam down her sides. “Fluttershy, where’s your suit?”

Applejack nudged Fluttershy, and the timid pegasus jumped in alarm. She cleared her throat, straightening up. “Um, I-I would like t-to stay here, too.” She gulped. “Please?”

Sabre cocked her head. Perhaps Twilight was imagining it, but her voice seemed to soften by a half measure. “You’ve proven yourself to be a valuable asset on a dive. Are you certain that you’d rather stay?”

Fluttershy hunched back down. “Yes, please,” she whispered.

“Very well.” Sabre nodded to Flint, who spun the hatch wheel and pulled it open for her. “Let’s not waste any more time.”

She stepped outside, the roar of the Argo’s engines filling the void she left. Flint and Trails exchanged nods before following after their commander.

Twilight approached Rainbow Dash, laying an armored hoof on the sulking pegasus’ shoulder. She had to speak up to be heard over the wind. “Don’t worry, Rainbow. We’ll figure this out.”

“I’m sure Pinkie and Rarity are fine,” Applejack added. “Shoot, that filly was probably goin’ on about her tail twitchin’ and islands fallin’ hours before anythin’ happened.”

Twilight glanced askance at the helmeted cowpony. She was a great help when it came to comforting friends, but not so good a liar. I wonder what her face looks like, after saying that.

Rainbow’s ears flicked. “Just make sure you get back in one piece. I’ll be watching. Again.” She sighed, wings flaring, before rocketing out the hatch and into the open sky.

Fluttershy seemed torn between following after her distraught friend or staying in the safety of the airship. Her eyes roamed from side to side as the inner turmoil built up inside her. “Ohhh…”

“She’ll be fine, sugar cube,” Applejack said. “Not like y’all could catch her anyways, if’n she didn’t want ya to.”

After a moment’s deliberation, Fluttershy let out a heavy sigh. “She might still want me to try.” Her wings spread with a slow grace, and she gingerly flew outside and up out of sight.

Twilight couldn’t help but sympathize with Rainbow. How would I feel, she wondered, if I had to sit and watch for somepony else to save my world? It wasn’t a difficult question. She might lash out just as much, or even more. She wouldn’t want any of her friends to bear her burden, though. She beckoned to Applejack with a nod of her head. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”

It had started raining. The soft pitter patter of the drops on her helmet kept her company as Twilight stepped outside, crossed the narrow metal ramp, and climbed down the submarine’s open hatch.

The hatch squealed as Applejack shut it behind them, spinning the wheel to tighten the seal. Sea Sabre, Star Trails, and Flintlock were waiting in the control room when the two mares arrived.

Sea Sabre looked back at them. “Twilight, I want you supporting Trails. Applejack, follow Flint. He’ll show you how to handle the sub’s weaponry.” She flicked a switch beside her, sending a groan through the hull as the Argo’s clamps set the sub loose to rock with the waves.

“Weaponry?” Applejack asked. She reached a hoof up to adjust her hat before it fell off. “I dunno, sugar cube, I ain’t never tussled with anythin’ like that before.”

“Eh, it’s not that hard,” Flint said. He squeezed past her, towards the rear of the sub. “C’mon. Best job on th’ sub, ye’ll see.”

“I’m just warnin’ y’all, is all I’m sayin’,” Applejack said as she followed after him.

Steam hissed out of the pipes set in the hull as Sabre continued the sub’s startup sequence. The gears set in the hull began to spin up, starting as a ponderous tick-tock-tick that soon settled into an eager chatter.

Sabre’s hooves settled in over the controls as the water swallowed them up. “Any heading?” she asked.

Twilight approached Trails, who was channeling magic into her terminal with her eyes closed. The other unicorn spoke first. “I’m not making out anything distinct. I bet miss magician is ready to show me up, though.”

“I can give you some tips, later,” Twilight offered as Trails backed away from the terminal. “I’ve been getting a lot of use out of your spell, and making a number of improvements.”

“I guess we’re lucky I’m not the spiteful type,” Trails quipped. She nodded at the little grey sphere set into the metal. “I’ll take you up on that sometime, but let’s focus on the dive for now.”

Twilight nodded, closing her eyes and casting her magical senses out through the network of hornbane that spiderwebbed through the submarine’s hull. A thin wake of debris filled the waters above and around the slowly sinking island, making it difficult to get a complete image of the city itself. “Just bring us in closer for now. I’ll tell you when I find it.”

The ticking of the sub accelerated, and gravity shifted. Twilight kept one eye on the bubbles floating past the viewport as she continued sending out pings. Fellis was a big island, and one that would have had thousands of ponies on it when it fell. They didn’t have the resources or time to search the whole thing, but Rarity had left Twilight with a written copy of the name of her ship and the dock they planned to stay at before her departure. If they could find the dock, then they could search it for signs of her ship. Twilight’s legs went a little weak just at the thought of what she was doing, and the pit in her core deepened. She desperately hoped that she wouldn’t find it.

A shape drifted into the sub’s headlights. Twilight stiffened, expecting it to attack them, but it slipped out of sight within seconds. Calm down, Twilight. These waters are full of debris, and you can’t be jumping at everything you see.

A soft thud sounded from the front of the sub as a shadow appeared, smacking into the glass. Again, Twilight jumped. The shadow began to slip off, emitting a slow squeal until it finally lost its grip. Twilight’s relieved sigh was cut short as the shadow flashed past the sub’s lights, revealing itself to be a waterlogged corpse, its face oddly calm.

Twilight yelped, her scanning spell fizzling out. Flint’s voice clicked on over the radio. “Any action goin’ on over there? We’ve been gettin’ some impacts on th’ hull.”

“Just bodies,” Sabre said. Her head angled itself towards Twilight. “Make sure to keep an eye out for any fast-movers, especially if it’s heading for us.”

Twilight took a deep breath. “Right.” She turned her attention fully to the terminal, keeping the viewport out of sight. “Just bodies, Twilight,” she muttered. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

The impacts began to come more often, and Twilight contemplated casting a minor silence over her helmet. She couldn’t push the image of swimming through a sea of bodies out of her head, but she knew that it would be too risky to deafen herself. She had read about the deepfish that were drawn to objects that disturbed the surface. Their numbers may have thinned once the island was fully submerged, but there was a good chance that there were still dozens of the creatures lingering, feeding on the carcasses.

Twilight suppressed a wave of bile in the back of her throat. That image wasn’t much better.

“Sweet Luna,” Trails breathed. Twilight could hear her hooves slowly approaching the viewport. “There’s so many of them.”

She focused herself on the scanner, squeezing her eyes shut tight. The cloud of bodies kept her from getting a full picture, but they were close enough now that she could mentally fill in the blanks herself. The island had been shattered into a hundred pieces at least, and even now Twilight could sense the way that they drifted apart as they sank. It was difficult to say how much further the seafloor was, but by the time the island’s remains finally settled into place it would be spread across miles at the very least.

From this range she could almost see how the island had crumbled. The pieces seemed to be clustered into groups, as if gravitational forces had broken it into a dozen larger chunks before each one slammed into the ocean and exploded into a dozen more.

She distanced herself from the scale of the calamity in cool analysis. She hypothesized that the spell holding the islands up did so with a distributed upwards force that perfectly canceled out gravity, adjusting on the fly to account for shifts and changes in mass. The way the island seemed to have fallen apart before hitting the ocean implied that the spell had cut out all at once, like somepony flicking a switch. With its arcane foundation suddenly gone, the island had only been able to retain its shape for moments before the forces acting upon it had torn it apart.

She was glad that she had thought to check a collection of historical city guides out of the Heighton library. She had found Fellis within it on the ride over and spent an hour familiarizing herself with its layout. Her map was years out of date, of course, but the basic shape of a city was a slow thing to change once it was laid out.

She could see the island’s many river valleys, its busy industrial center, and its mountainous southern edge. Several clumps of straight-edged metals indicated where airships had landed for the last time, but none of them were the proper mass for the Sip of Ambrosia. Still, Twilight wouldn’t be satisfied until she searched the waters around Rarity’s dock.

Motion came to her attention. It was distant still, but sudden and fast. She thought back to how the sea serpent had felt to her arcane senses, and was glad that nothing nearly as large seemed to be moving among the ruins. “I’m picking up movement,” she said. “Just deepfish, I think.”

“Confirm, Trails.” Sabre said. A couple seconds passed. “Trails?”

“Uh, right. On it, boss.”

A hoof tugged at Twilight’s shoulder, and she allowed herself to be pulled away from the terminal. “It was around ninety-three degrees, and lower than us,” she said.

Trails nodded, but said nothing as she positioned herself before the terminal. Here movements were sluggish, and her magic felt weaker when she began scanning. Twilight could feel the frayed edges of her spell, as if it had been tied together through rote instinct, lacking refinement.

Despite her clear distress, Trails still worked fast enough to keep Twilight from having to find a new distraction. “She called it right, boss. Deepfish.”

“Roger that. Flint, load a flash torpedo in tube one and a frag in tube two.”

“Ye got it, boss.” A slow, distant scrape traveled up from the rear of the sub as Flint grunted over the radio. “Grab that there, cowfilly. There ye go.”

Trails stepped back from the terminal, seeming drawn to the thick glass that separated them all from the freshly sunken grave. Small jets of steam burst from the armor around her neck as she pulled her helmet off and let it fall to the floor.

Sabre glanced back, the question clear in the movement. Twilight’s gaze lingered on Trails’ face. Her eyes were wet with tears, her mouth hanging open. A shiver ran through Twilight’s body before she repositioned herself in front of the terminal. She closed her eyes and let herself take solace once more in the cool analytical world of arcane ping and response.

Trails’ shaky voice broke her concentration within seconds. “All these ponies…”

“Trails, are you with me?” Sabre asked. There was another hiss of steam. Twilight cracked an eye open and saw Sabre standing before Trails with her helmet held in a wing. “Look at me.”

“Fuck,” Trails groaned, falling back onto her haunches. “Is this what apocalypse feels like? How many ponies died here?”

Twilight’s mind helpfully pulled up the relevant statistic. As of 650 Anno Caeli, Fellis Island had a steady population of six thousand four hundred and forty ponies. She closed her eyes again and shook her head in an attempt to dislodge the knowledge. Of course it didn’t work. She settled for deep breathing instead.

“Star Trails,” Sea Sabre said, “Save it for when we’re back on the surface.”

“What the fuck, Sabre?” Trails shot back, her tone accusing. “What is wrong with you? How can you sit there and act like we’re not swimming through a city-sized graveyard?”

“My concern is not with the dead,” Sabre growled. “And neither should yours be until we’re above water.”

A merciful motion in the distance caught Twilight’s attention. She focused her arcane senses on it, observing the way that her pings seemed to almost warp around it, giving feedback so distorted that the spell failed to translate it into anything approaching comprehensible. “I’m picking something up. It’s distorting my spell.”

“Where?” Sabre asked. Twilight’s ears flicked as the sub’s gears spun up. The pegasus must have returned to the controls.

“It’s hard to say,” Twilight said, opening her eyes. “It should be passing into sight soon, I think.”

As she said this, a harsh white light shone through the sub’s viewport, drowning the colors out in to a uniform pale blue. Twilight raised a hoof to shade her eyes as her curiosity got the better of her, and she tracked the twinkling new star as it zipped across their vision. Shadows spasmed around the control room as the shooting star ducked behind bodies and floating rubble. Flares of pale red and whitewashed purple flickered around its edges, forming a wide trail that lingered for only seconds before dissipating.

“What is that?” Trails asked.

“How far away is it?” Sabre added. She slipped her helmet back over her head, the suit sealing with short bursts of steam. “Your helmet, Trails.”

“It’s still a few hundred meters off, at my best guess,” Twilight said as the light dipped behind a chunk of island. Spotlights of white and red danced through the water it had once occupied. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Trails took a deep breath before resecuring her helmet. “Fuck.”

“It doesn’t seem to be interested in us, at least,” Sabre said. “Keep an eye on it, Twilight.”

“Right.”

The water swirled around them as the submarine maneuvered. The mangled corpse of Fellis Island stretched before them, dimly lit by sunlight filtering down from the surface and streaks of brightness shooting out from behind the island’s bulk. Unlike Ponyville or the Everfree Forest, which had been so deeply submerged that it was impossible to see anything without a light, Fellis hadn’t yet settled onto the ocean floor kilometers below. It was still sinking, and most of it was illuminated in a smothering twilight that gave the mind too many dark corners to toy with.

Applejack stepped into the control room, one hoof steadying her hat. “We got them tubes loaded for y’all, Sabre. I reckon I got them things more or less figured out, but I sure as hay wouldn’t want to run that rodeo if’n it really mattered.” She stiffened as she noticed the macabre cityscape stretched out before them. “Whoa, nelly.”

The stillness of the dead city made Twilight’s coat stand on end. The only motion came from the racing strobelights of the strange star. The city and its scattered contents were all sinking at the same rate, giving the impression that the hundreds of bodies silhouetted in the abyssal twilight were hovering in place above the shattered buildings.

A cracked tower stretched across four chunks of island, its broken pieces having settled into the rubble of the surrounding buildings almost like a wounded snake curling up in a nest of crumbling stone. Twilight’s breath hitched as she saw the metallic protrusions that were all that remained of the piers where airships would’ve tied off.

“Is this it?” Sabre asked, bringing the sub in closer. Its lights shone on a scraped and bent metal sign, gleaming against the words carved into its surface. Sunrise Venture Skyport.

“That’s it.” Twilight swallowed, stepping closer to the glass. A voice inside her whispered that she was looking at the grave of two of her best friends. She hated that part of her, sometimes.

Sabre nodded. The radio clicked on in Twilight’s ear as she spoke over it. “Flint, get ready for EVA. You and Twilight will be searching on hoof.”

“Are you done yet?” Ana asked. She shifted her weight from one side to the other, granting her stiff legs some small relief.

The Countess tutted at the motion, continuing to prove she held no professional respect for personal space as she squinted at the measuring tape glowing blue in her magic. “Just a moment, my sweet! You’ll find the end result quite worth the wait.”

Ana resisted the impulse to suck in air for a deep sigh. She knew that such a disturbance would only extend her torment in the end.

The two mares had been hidden away in Rarity’s cabin for what felt like hours, which meant that it probably actually had been hours, considering the fact that Ana had developed a pretty good knack for estimating the passage of time. She spent an awful lot of it waiting around and watching, after all.

At least that incessant pink one isn’t involved. The Countess had insisted on privacy for the procedure, spouting some melodramatic prattle about the bond between artiste and canvas. Ana had since discovered that this bond largely consisted of standing still so long that she was about ready to fall over whenever she was allowed to move again.

“Ooh, I think that should quite do it!” Rarity hummed a little ditty to herself as she marked the measuring tape with a pencil before backing off. The tape followed behind her like a loyal servant as she made for the stand-up curtain blocking Ana’s view of a third of the room.

Free from the seamstress’ scrutiny, Ana heaved a heavy sigh. She wasn’t even allowed to lay eyes on the dress until it was finished. She didn’t have much tailoring experience beyond patching the occasional damaged barding, but she was pretty sure that the final alterations would move along far faster if she was actually wearing whatever it was the Countess was trying to hide from her. Stupid pony superstitions.

She was pretty sure it was a dress back there. She didn’t like dresses.

At least the room is nice. Unlike Pinkie’s preferred decorating method of spraying her surroundings down with pink and floof, the Countess had a softer touch. Her cabin was clean and tidy, accented by complementary splashes of pastel purples and greens. The faint smell of lilacs hung in the air.

Rarity’s humming devolved into an eager giggle. “Ooh, I dare say it’s finished!” she sang. The tiny wheels of the curtain rattled as the unicorn brushed it aside to reveal her creation. “Voila!”

Ana blinked. It was no wonder that the Countess had insisted on working behind a curtain. The mess of fabric scraps around her gave the impression of a careless foal that had torn up a cloudy night sky, shredded a foamy sea, and finally cracked open a morning sun before tossing it all together on the floor.

“Don’t look at the mess, darling!” Rarity whined. “Look at the dress!”

“Oh, right.” Ana tore her gaze away from the hurricane of color, focusing instead on the clean lines of the dressed ponequin they surrounded. Her attention was immediately drawn to the polished moonstone cabochon secured to the model’s neck. The gem was nestled in a flower-shaped splash of glimmering silver. She would have paid for the chance to steal just a necklace with that design on its own, but the dress didn’t stop there.

Dark blue fabric seemed to flow from this centerpiece in sharp, sweeping arcs that reminded Ana of her own leathery wings, forming a light cloak that gradually deepened to hang just below the flanks, leaving plenty of space for the legs and tail to move. A wide purple hemline played along the edges of the cloak, twisting up into swirling patterns around the teardrops of clear glass that studded it like twinkling stars. Underneath was a loose-fitting blouse of pale blue, the soft pink laces on the neck left undone. The sleeves hung somewhat loose around the model’s forelegs, giving the coat room to breathe and blooming out at the fetlocks to leave the hooves free. The entire ensemble looked almost as if it would float off to return to its home in the night sky if it was left unwatched.

“It’s, uh—” Ana stepped closer, running a wingtip along the patterns of purple integrated into the cloak’s hem. She laid a hoof on the silver flower that surrounded the moonstone gem. At first she was surprised that it wasn’t an actual flower. Then she remembered how long it had been since she’d seen that particular bloom. “Is this supposed to be a certain flower?”

“Night-blooming cereus, actually.” Rarity beamed at her. “Did you recognize it? I’m afraid it’s been months since I saw one.” She paused, some of her enthusiasm leaving her. “Well, centuries, I suppose.”

Of course I recognize it. What self-respecting thestral couldn’t pick out princess of the night in a sea of flowers? “It’s… beautiful.”

Rarity clapped her hooves together with renewed gusto. “You simply must try it on! Come, come, I have some mirrors set up in my closet, and we can—”

“No,” Ana said, cutting the seamstress off. She blinked, carefully dialing back the harshness in her voice. She still had to be Anatami the refugee, after all. “I mean—thank you, Countess. It’s the greatest gift anypony has ever given to me.” She resisted the urge to flick her tail. Why did it bother her to speak that lie when a thousand others had flowed freely before it? “I’m still worn out from the fight with the bounty hunters, I think. I’d like to go back to my cabin.”

Rarity’s lips twisted into an ignoble pout. “Are you certain, dear? I don’t want to pressure you, but there is truly nothing that would make me happier right now than seeing you glow in this couture.”

“Sorry, Auntie,” Ana said. “Some other time, I’m sure.”

Rarity sighed. “Very well, then.” Her horn glowed, and the dress tugged itself free of the model. The sound of her magic and rustling cloth filled the little cabin as she carefully folded the dress into a small box. A set of four silver shoes settled down on top before she closed it, securing the box with a thin pink ribbon. “Do feel better soon, Ana,” she said, levitating the box before her.

“Thanks.” Ana hooked the ribbon with the clawed tip of a wing. She left the cabin at a measured pace, careful to not look back.

Sea Sabre’s voice buzzed into Twilight’s ear. “Opening the outer lock.”

A cloud of bubbles obscured her sight as the heavy metal hatch swung open. Twilight raised a hoof to step forward, only for Flint to shove in front of her.

“Not this time, ye don’t,” he growled. “I go first.”

“Oh, right.” Twilight moved back. “Sorry.”

Flint grunted as he used the airjets built into his armor to push himself out into the open water. He hung for a moment before drifting down to the stone bulk of the collapsed tower beneath them and landed with a deep thud. Twilight poked her head out and watched him cast the red light mounted on his shoulder around the ruins.

“Looks clear enough,” he said. “C’mon and join me, ‘Light.”

Twilight dropped down by his side, bending her knees to absorb the impact of the fall. She was at first surprised that no sand cloud was stirred by her landing. Every time she had ever set hoof outside of the sub, there had been at least a thin layer of sediment waiting below, obscuring her vision for a couple seconds when she landed. But of course there isn’t one here, she thought. This dead land is still fresh.

Twilight clicked her radio on. “We’re out. We’ll make our way towards the other end of the skydock and search for—” She paused, licking her dry lips. “Search for clues.”

“Acknowledged,” Sabre replied. “We’ll be scanning from above for any trouble. Torpedoes are at the ready for fire support, if necessary.”

Applejack’s uncertainty was easy to hear, even with the distortion from the radio. “For a certain meanin’ of ‘ready,’ I reckon.”

“Ye’ll be fine, cowfilly,” Flint said. “Just press the right fire button when ol’ Sabre tells ye. I’ll be sure t’ kill anythin’ down here before ye have to reload, just t’ make it easy on ye.”

“Uh, thanks. I guess.”

Twilight took a moment to adjust to the strange sense of reduced weight, no doubt due to the island’s continual sinking. She led the way along the top of the fallen tower as the submarine floated further above them. Its shadow passed over the divers, making it difficult to walk without stumbling over the scattered chunks of stone underhoof. Twilight summoned a small purple orblight to hover above and behind her, illuminating the surrounding rubble with enough clarity for walking. What she had thought to be just more rocks was revealed to be a bruised corpse, and she stiffened as her armored hoof crunched through bone.

“Watch yer step there,” Flint rumbled as he walked past her. He kept his shoulder light trained on the ground in front of him, taking care to maneuver around the mangled cadavers.

Twilight took a deep breath as she took her weight off the leg she had stepped on. She was getting too used to it. She wasn’t even sure if the corpse had startled her more than the surprise of stepping on something unexpected.

The submarine’s powerful lamps played over the ruins to either side, picking out shattered architecture, torn up earth, and the extruding parts of the dead buried beneath. In some places the rubble had held together enough to be recognizable as storefronts or homes. Many of the bodies were merely broken or battered, but some bore the marks of more gruesome endings. Flesh rent from limbs and deep gashes in the flesh marked those ponies who had been hunted rather than crushed. They often had limbs or entire halves of their bodies missing altogether.

But there was no airship to be seen. Not yet, at least. Twilight returned her focus forwards as she and Flint came to a break in the tower. The tower here hung out over a seemingly endless abyss. Twilight peered down into the darkness, her hooves sending a spray of rubble sinking into the black.

“Looks like we’ll have to jump,” Twilight said.

“Ye want me t’ carry ye across?” Flint asked.

Twilight shot him a sidelong glance, hidden by her helmet. “I think I’ll manage.”

The submarine’s lamps travelled across the wide gap. The other island chunk was sitting at a steep angle, as if one edge had risen up out of the water as it sank. Most of the buildings had slid down to the lower side, all piling up on top of each other.

“We can aim fer that hole there,” Flint said, indicating a collapsed section of wall that led into the depths of the rubble.

“But we won’t be able to see if there’s an airship wreckage from in there,” Twilight said. “What if we pass them?”

“Can’t ye use that spell of yers?” he asked. “Trails is lookin’ from the sub, too. Between th’ two of ye, I think it’ll work out.”

The entire island flared with a sudden brightness. Twilight raised a hoof to shield her visored eyes as she turned towards the source of the light. The mysterious shooting star from before had arced back into view, painting the ruins with its harsh glow.

“It’s coming closer,” Trails said over the radio. “I can’t tell how fast.”

“We’d best get movin’ then,” Flint said. “Th’ big jumble’ll make fer good cover.”

Twilight grimaced. As much as she hated the thought of possibly passing over her friends, Flint was right. The ping spell wouldn’t have any trouble finding the metal hull of a wrecked ship among all the stone and earth of the fallen city. If they were down here, she’d find them. Even if she wanted nothing less.

“Let’s go,” she said.

The two of them jumped together, propelling themselves across the gap with jets of pressurised air. Floating debris acted like tiny clouds to the miniature sun of the unknown creature approaching, casting misshapen shadows over the city.

Flint landed fast, absorbing the impact with his hooves and training his guns on the enclosed area as he skidded to a stop. Twilight was more cautious, using her airjets to counter her velocity before landing. She floated her orblight forward into the gaping hole before them. The purple glow drifted silently deeper into the tunnel.

Flint grunted as he led the way after it. “This place is givin’ me th’ creeps.”

“You?” Twilight asked. Her horn glowed brighter as she began sending pings through the surrounding superstructure. The knot in her stomach tensed with every signal out, and relaxed as each one returned with no terrible omen of her friends’ waterlogged grave. Her voice threatened to shake, but she needed something to keep her mind off what she was doing. “That’s not like you.”

“Jus’ look at that.” Flint gestured towards one side with a hoof.

Twilight followed the motion, spotting a pair of bodies sticking out of the wall. Their lower halves had each been crushed together by the surrounding architecture, leaving the limp upper halves to sway freely in the current. Each one had its hooves wrapped around the other. Twilight looked away before she could see the faces.

A spiteful rush of anger flared up in Twilight’s chest. “You only care about bodies when they come from your world, Flint?” She gnashed her teeth, pushing the heat back down. She didn’t want to risk upsetting herself while her magic was active.

Flint looked back at her. He slowed his pace to let her close some of the distance between them. “I know I’ve been a bit rough with ye, ‘Light,” he said. His voice was low, a grave contrast from his usual boisterous volume. “I’m guessin’ that apocalypse of yers ain’t never been so close t’ home for me til’ now.”

Twilight didn’t turn to meet his gaze. That had sounded almost like an attempt at an apology, but she was still focused on reining in her unruly emotions. Instead she quickened her pace, using a burst from her suit’s airjets to drift into the lead.

Sabre’s voice crackled into her ear. “That thing is getting too close. Applejack, be ready to fire tube one on my mark. Twilight and Flint, stay at the ready.”

“Roger that, boss,” Flint said.

Applejack’s acknowledgment was less steady than Flint’s, despite her attempt otherwise. “Sure thing, sugar cube.”

The tunnel widened around her as Twilight pressed further into its depths. She sent her orblight up, allowing its steady purple glow to pick out the edges of a small pocket formed within the rubble. A deepfish corpse was splayed out here, its ragged hide punctured on both sides by a metal pipe.

Flint’s shoulder light played over a trio of pony bodies piled up against a thick metal beam opposite the deepfish. The larger stallion body was marred with deep cuts and bruises, but the two foals behind him looked almost peaceful in death.

“That pony’s got my respect,” he said. “Fightin’ off one of th’ deepfish before goin’ down. Here’s hopin’ he found some peace at th’ end.”

Twilight said nothing. There was still some lingering anger over the sudden appearance of Flint’s appreciation for the dead. Her eyes followed the beam behind the bodies up to where it was lodged into the rubble. Some part of her imagined it to be some valiant defender, holding up the weight of an island in honor of the pony who had died defending the helpless.

“Part of the island is breaking free near you two,”Trails said over the radio. “Brace yourselves!”

A deep rumble passed over the island as if on cue. Twilight could feel the shifting motion of the superstructure through her hooves, and found herself instinctively squatting low as small rocks dislodged themselves from above before thunking against her visor. She yelped as a heavy wad of bricks bounced off of her armored flank, pushing her to the ground with its impact.

“Ah, buck!” Flint growled. “Th’ whole place is comin’ down around us!”

Looking up from the ground, Twilight saw the metal beam shift dangerously, straining against the mass of the city above them. “Stay near me, Flint!” she said, wrapping the beam in her magic. She didn’t know if her shield would hold if the little cave collapsed, but hoped that her telekinesis would be enough to keep the beam in place.

The disturbance was over as quickly as it started. Twilight took a deep breath as the water relapsed back into its dead silence, allowing her magic to fade.

The beam shifted. Twilight’s eyes focused in on the chest-sized rock falling for her face just in time for her to let out a strangled, “Agh!”

The rock bounced off as if it was made of paper. Twilight blinked, confused by the lack of impact.

“Twi, y’allright?” Applejack asked.

“She’s fine,” Flint said. “We’re fine. Jus’ a bit of a scare.”

“I’m fine, AJ,” Twilight confirmed. She picked herself off the ground, wrapping the rock in her magic and pulling it closer. It was a soggy cardboard package, neatly gift-wrapped in yellow paper with pink ribbon, miraculously still in one piece.

“Get back to open water,” Sabre said. “The city is still settling into place, and we don’t know how much longer it’ll be before it hits bottom.”

“Roger that, boss.”

Twilight formed a small shield around the package, teleporting the water out with a flash of purple. It fell apart like a marathon runner collapsing at the end of a race, revealing the trio of envelopes sealed inside.

“That star creature is up to something,” Trail said. “It almost looks like it’s tracking you two in there.”

“We should get movin’, ‘Light,” Flint said. “Ye can fiddle with whatever ye got there when we’re somewhere safer.”

“Just give me a second,” Twilight said, waving his words off with a hoof. She recognized these envelopes. Pinkie Pie had been relentless in bugging her for weatherproof envelopes once she heard about the spell Twilight had placed over her old library.

With bated breath Twilight found one addressed to her and slid open the seal. A spray of confetti popped out, the accompanying party horn muted by the water and her helmet. She pulled out the letter inside, a tentative smile pulling at her lips as she noticed the cupcake tucked beside it, and opened it.

Thick, happy pink and blue letters waited inside. “YOU’RE INVITED,” it read, “TO PINKIE PIE’S GETTING-THE-GANG-TOGETHER PARTY AT ALTALUSIA THIS ???” At the bottom of the letter, a small note had been written in Pinkie’s bouncy script. “PS: Don’t worry about us, Twilight! I just had a hoof twitch, rump itch, nose flick, and that means everything’s gonna be okay! Just relax and come enjoy the party!”

A breathy laugh escaped Twilight’s lips. Oh, Pinkie Pie, this is absolute nonsense. The laugh returned, fuller and freer. It didn’t make any sense, but Twilight had never known Pinkie to operate within the confines of logic.If one of Pinkie’s invitations had found its way to her through a minor apocalypse with an assurance of well-being at the bottom, then that was good enough.

“What ye got there, ‘Light?” Flint asked, stepping in front of her.

“It’s from Pinkie Pie,” she said. What was she crying for? Her friends were alive. She hadn’t failed them, too. “She says she and Rarity are alright.”

“Whoa there, nelly.” Applejack’s voice buzzed into her ear. “Y’all got a letter from Pinkie? Down there?”

“I’ll explain once we get back to the sub,” Twilight said. She took a deep breath, wearing a goofy smile inside the privacy of her helmet. “But I believe our friends made it out okay.”

“Well if it’s good enough to convince y’all, then it’s more than good enough for me,” Applejack said.

“Mission accomplished, then,” Sabre said. Was that a hint of relief in her voice? “Find some open water and we’ll pick you up.”

“Right.” Twilight tucked the letter back into its envelope, being careful not to smudge too much of the cupcake frosting, and renewed the weatherproofing spell. She let the shield fizzle, levitating the three letters into a rigid pocket on her dive suit. With the package safely stowed, she once again began sending out arcane pings. “Scanning for a way out now.”

“That glowing thing is right on top of you two,” Trails said. “Watch out!”

Twilight’s pings were coming back to her distorted. Her pulse quickened as she sensed the way they seemed to wrap around an invisible line through space, curling tighter and tighter. A shrill, warbling cry echoed through the ocean as the distortion seemed to thicken around Flint.

“Get back!” Twilight reached out with her magic, throwing Flint to the side as a beam of brilliant white light blasted into the cavern where he had stood. A billowing cloud of bubbles rushed over them, and Twilight could feel her coat heating even through the thick shell of her armor. She cried out as she was thrown back by the wave of boiling water, tumbling backwards until she collided with a low-hanging protrusion of bricks.

“Applejack, fire!” Sabre shouted. Twilight shook the stars from her vision as she rolled back onto her hooves.

“Oh, hay! Tube one off!” Applejack replied. Twilight began to send out the pings again, gauging the telltale distortion of the feedback for signs of the attacker.

Flint was back on his hooves already, charging for the clean circular hole that had been burned through the rubble wall. It was still glowing red with heat. “Think ye’re gonna take me out without a fight, do ye?” he growled. “Come n’ get it, then!” The deep thud of his repeater bounced around the cavern as he fired out into the open ocean.

“It’s not working,” Trails said. “Flash torp failed!” Twilight began to run for the hole. A spotlight of brilliant white shone down on Flint through it, framed in licks of twisting purple and curling red.

Sabre didn’t miss a beat. “Applejack, fire tube two on my mark!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Twilight finally made it to Flint’s side. She squinted up towards the glare of their attacker, trying to make out its shape as it danced ever closer. Her heart skipped a beat as the pings began to distort again, this time curling around something she couldn’t see, off to the side.

“It’s aiming for the sub!” she said, propelling herself towards the open ocean with her airjets. “It’s going to shoot again! Sabre, get out of the way!”

Again the high-pitched call sounded, and Twilight’s vision went white. She could still hear the low rumble of the tunnel shifting around her, and feel the little rocks bouncing off her armor, but it was impossible to see anything through the overbearing brightness.

“Brace!” Sabre ordered. A painful surge of static popped in Twilight’s ears. The sound of the submarine’s metal hull colliding with hard stone carried clearly through the water.

Twilight gnashed her teeth, trying to blink the light away. The afterimage of a ragged bird, framed by a circle of molten stone, had burned itself into her retinas. She didn’t even know where she was anymore. She flailed out with her hooves, searching for something solid.

“Damage report!” Sabre barked.

“Agh, spalling!” Trails hissed. “I’m bleeding, but I’m good!”

“One of these racks broke back here,” Applejack said. “Everything’s all over the place! I dunno what’s what!”

Twilight’s eyes recovered enough for her to see. She had floated nearly all the way through the melted tunnel. She reached out, grabbing onto the lip and pulling her head out into open ocean. Still blinking away the bird afterimage, she picked out the submarine’s dark shape lodged in a crack running through a chunk of island. The swimming star from before floated before it, its glow having diminished enough for her to make out a pair of wings splayed out in the center.

Her pings were distorting again, centering around the submarine. The monster was going to shoot again, and this time there would be no chance of evasion. The sinister fury flared in Twilight’s breast, her magic pooling unbidden in the tip of her horn.

End that troublesome beast.

Flint’s deep voice rumbled over the radio. “What are ye doin’ over there ye shiny moron?” His repeaters thump, thump, thumped at Twilight’s side, and she turned to see him floating a short distance off from the ruins, firing both guns at the monster’s back. “I thought ye wanted t’ play with me!”

The monster’s warbling cry sang through the water once more. Its glow brightened and danced over the ruins as it turned, a pair of white-hot eyes locking onto Flint.

Twilight forced her magic down, trying not to dwell too much on the way it resisted her will. Her friends were safe for now. She wouldn’t risk losing control again until it was absolutely necessary.

Instead, she used her airjets to tackle Flint, pushing him out of the way just as another lance of superhot light boiled the water where he had been. “I don’t think your bullets are working! We need to run!”

Flint let loose with a guttural roar. “Damnit, why don’t we ever dive around things that die when ye shoot them anymore? Fine!”

Twilight glanced back at the monster again. Its light had diminished enough for her to see its curved beak stretch unnaturally wide to release a furious cry.

Author's Note

What strange new beast has accosted our heroes now? Will Pinkie's Getting-The-Gang-Together Party go off without a hitch? And will Twilight live to replenish her tea stocks? Find out next time on Empty Horizons!

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XVIII: The Duke

Twilight’s hooves twitched, activating her airjets. She grunted into her helmet as the sudden acceleration threw her sideways, behind the floating mass of a pillar. Moments later, the water where she had just been was boiled away by a lance of brilliant, purple-tinged energy.

She heaved a deep breath, grabbing onto the pillar to steady herself in the water. It had been thrown into a ponderous tumble by the winged beast’s attack. The sheer white glow of the monster seemed almost to twinkle as it played along the spinning column’s architecture, and for a moment Twilight imagined it to be hunting her.

“Ye alright over there, ‘Light?” Flint’s voice growled into her ear over the radio.

“I’m fine,” she said. A trickle of magic pooled in her horn as she sent out pings, gauging the beast’s movements from how the feedback distorted. “Just keep moving!”

The monster’s glow flared painfully as it glided into direct view, opening its maw to release a mournful cry. It rounded on a drifting brick wall, distorting the magic around it.

“Flint, get away from there!” Twilight shouted.

She clenched her teeth, squinting into the flash of light as the monster unleashed its attack. Flint’s curses crackling in her ears bore proof of his survival. When the light dimmed enough for her to open her eyes again, the bricks had been split into melted clumps of slag.

Sabre’s voice clicked onto the radio. “Trails, AJ, keep up the repairs. I’m going out to help.”

“No!” Twilight snapped. She pushed off of the column she was hiding behind, propelling herself towards the closest chunk of island. It’s not like cover had made any difference so far. “Focus on the repairs while we distract it!”

“Tactical command, Twilight,” Sabre said. The sound of the airlock filling with water was audible in the background.

“Got it, boss,” Trails said. “AJ, fasten this pipe down!”

Twilight growled into her helmet, making sure to cut her mic off first. Why wouldn’t they listen? The anger swelled inside her, and she forced herself to take a deep breath. Stay in control, Twilight.

“Eyes open, ‘Light!” Flint said. “It’s comin’ fer ye!”

Twilight blinked, refocusing on the water around her. The monster’s song cut through the water around her as it angled towards her. Its glow was just dim enough for her to make out how it spread its wings, stretching its beak wide, before her vision burst into white.

“Agh!” Magic raced unbidden to Twilight’s horn, teleporting her out of the way of the attack. Her heart pounded against her chest as Fellis Island’s shattered remains spun before her visor. She reached out with her hooves, her dive suit’s steady ticking accelerating as she tried to cancel out the spin with her airjets.

“Y’all okay, Twi?” Applejack asked. “Talk to me, girl!”

“Uh, I—still here,” Twilight said, struggling to get her breathing under control. What was that? She had never had her magic act of its own volition like that, almost as if it had a life of its own. She could feel something dark curling up inside her. It was the same thing that had spoken to her before, bidding her to destroy a ship full of ponies. Stay away from me!

You need me.

“Oof!” Twilight bumped into something, stopping her spin enough for her to get her bearings. She had drifted into the gutted hull of an airship and collided with a bloodstained steel wall inside it. A limp hoof reached out from beneath a pile of stone, the current making it bob side to side as if reaching for help.

I don’t want your help! Twilight thought. I can take care of myself!

The dark thing didn’t answer, but she could almost feel it baring fangs in a soulless smile. Forcing herself to focus on the immediate danger, Twilight looked up towards the glowing beast darting through the floating field of rubble above the ship. It sang its sadness at the water, weaving around a clump of trees. A lithe pegasus form cut through the water beside it, trailing twin streams of bubbles from its wingtips.

As she watched, the monster reared up and released another beam of energy. For a moment, the beam illuminated the ocean depths as a lightning bolt at night. When Twilight blinked the after-image away, the pegasus was nowhere to be seen.

“Sea Sabre!” she called. “Are you alright?”

“It just grazed me,” Sabre’s calm voice responded. “The suit held up, but I wouldn’t want to put it through another. Flint, take over.”

“Right, boss.”

“Let me do it!” Twilight said, climbing to her hooves. “I can see where it’s going to shoot and get out of the way.” She began sending out more pings as she spoke, making for the open water. The monster rounded on her as if on cue, immediately honing in on the wreck she had taken shelter in. Uh oh.

“‘Light, turn yer spell off!” Flint barked. “It’s trackin’ ye!”

Twilight could already see the pings distorting around her. Her eyes darted side to side in search of escape, but the wreck had her hemmed in. The only escape was forwards, straight into the path of the forming beam.

Twilight cried out as she threw herself against the side of the ship, clenching her eyes shut. Even through the visor, the light was bright enough to blind. The normally chill metal of her dive suit seared against her coat, drawing a scream from her lips.

The dark thing pulsed inside of her. Even buried beneath the pain of her burning skin, she could feel it clawing for her magic. Stay away! she shouted. I don’t need you!

At last the heat began to subside. Twilight shook her head, trying to blink the blinding brightness out of her eyes. Something wet trickled against the tingling flesh on her side. Blood? No, it wasn’t warm like blood. This wetness was deathly cold.

“Twilight, report!” Sabre ordered.

“It—my suit!” Twilight twisted her neck, spotting the drooping gash that had been melted along the side of her armor. She couldn’t see bare fur, but her blood ran cold at the sight of the bubbles leaking from the compromised material. Freezing water sprayed against her side, trickling down her legs and pooling around her hooves. “My suit’s compromised! I’m heading back for the sub!”

She activated her airjets, only to find herself thrown into a sudden spin. The ticking of her suit stuttered and jerked as the world twisted around her, the wreck’s hull coming up to slam into her visor. Water sprayed against her face. Her visor had cracked from the impact.

Static buzzed in her ears, broken up with brief bursts of garbled speech that were impossible to make out. She tried to roll onto her side and catch sight of the open water, but her suit resisted her. She had never heard it tick so slowly before. Her legs were completely submerged in the freezing water lapping at her belly.

She screamed at the cracked glass of her visor, finally managing to roll herself over. The water that had been collecting around her hooves shifted, leaving her face half submerged. She angled her muzzle to one side, taking small, quick breaths.

The monster was still watching her. Why was it so determined to end her, even as Sea Sabre flew circles around it and Flintlock fired volley after volley into its side? Its glow grew brighter, taking over the small, cold world that existed on the other side of her visor.

Let me in.

“No!” Twilight growled. She sputtered as salty water leaked into her mouth, forcing her to swallow it. You’re evil!

I’m necessary.

Twilight clenched her teeth, gathering power in her horn. If she was careful, she could teleport out of the way without using too much magic. She could find the sub and then make another teleport inside. She could help with the repairs while Sabre and Flint continued their distraction.

The monster spread its wings, its glow flaring up. She squinted into it, focusing on the teleportation spell. Just a little one out into the open water, and one more to the sub. Her chest tightened as she braced herself. All at once she forced it out and—

Twilight blinked. She was lying in bed, wrapped between the mutual embraces of her pillows and sheets. Sunlight filtered past her half-drawn window curtains, the warm rays painting the swirling grain patterns on her walls in a sleepy orange.

She groaned, rubbing at her eyes with her hooves as she rolled over. Her friends were in danger. She was in danger. There were songbirds playing in the branches outside her balcony.

Her thoughts came slowly, trudging through the fog of her mind. How did she get here? Did I… die?

“No,” she mumbled. “Oh, no. No, no, no…” Twilight slid a leg under herself, trying to get up. Why was her body so heavy? “I need… to go back.”

A cold hoof pressed down on her shoulder, and she fell back into the pillow. Twilight’s own kind voice whispered into her ear. “Where are you going, little flower?”

Twilight frowned into the comforting fabric of her pillow. Mustering her strength, she planted her forelegs and slowly pushed herself onto her back. She blinked up at herself in confusion.

The Other Twilight smiled, revealing its jagged teeth. Sprawling red tear stains framed its cheeks as it spoke. “Don’t you want to sleep?”

Twilight did want to sleep. “My friends…”

“You deserve a rest,” The Other cooed. It grabbed the blankets and tucked them up around Twilight’s neck. “I can handle everything.”

The sheets were like lead on Twilight’s shoulders, warm like spring sunshine but for the small spot of cold where The Other’s hoof touched it. The scent of rose pudding tickled at her nostrils. Spike must be making dessert.

“No,” Twilight said. She brushed the cold hoof away. The sheets felt a little lighter as she struggled to peel them back, dragging herself to the bedside. “No… rest… “

The Other’s smile bled away as it stepped back, its hoofsteps accompanied by quiet little splashes of water. “Sleep, little flower.”

Twilight stopped to take a break as she reached the edge of the bed. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, allowing the soft fabric to caress her cheek. She could hear her mother humming a lullaby. Hush now, quiet now, it’s time to lay your sleepy head. Hush now, quiet now, it’s time to go to bed.

She flicked her eyes back open. There was more work to be done, no matter how hard the bed tugged at her consciousness. Twilight lifted her head, peering over the edge of the bed. Her blankets fluttered in a strange wind. A shallow ocean awaited her at the bottom of a cliff, the mirror-still water reflecting her tired face.

The Other leaned over her in the reflection, its lips pressed into a firm line. “You must rest, little flower.”

Twilight latched onto the bed with both forelegs, pushing herself forwards. “Not… yet.”

The bed vanished. The songbirds cut out with a sudden screech. Howling wind ripped at Twilight’s face as she plummeted down the cliffside towards the still water. She could see herself through it as if from above, her body sheathed in arcane energies and her throat rough with the guttural howls coming from it. The bird monster lay crippled on a cracked statue of Celestia beneath her, its glow all but gone and its wings hanging limply at its side.

The sloth drained from her mind as she fell, allowing her to pick out the monster’s patchy feathers that rippled in the current with the colors of the sunset, failing to conceal its scarred hide. Red tears trailed down the bare skin of its face, framing eyes that still glowed with a brilliant white aura.

Philomena.

Twilight watched as her body spawned a javelin of rippling purple energy, lifting a hoof in the air. The arcane weapon hovered over Philomena’s sagging breast, focusing its power.

“No,” Twilight breathed, now fully alert. She reached a hoof out to the waters waiting an infinite distance below her, willing herself to fall faster. “No! Stop!”

Her body dropped its hoof, and the javelin fell with it. Twilight only had enough time to see the shockwave shatter the statue of Celestia below Philomena before the still water rose up to meet her.

Anatami’s hoof caressed the soft silver fabric at her neck. She angled her body to one side, watching the way the dress complemented her flanks. She gave the mirror in her cabin a little smile.

She jumped at the solid thudding of a hoof knocking against her door. Pinkie Pie’s voice sing-songed from the other side. “Ana?”

Ana huffed as she went to take the dress off, her hoof fumbling with just one of the several buttons involved in the process. Damn that Countess and her fancy dresses.

“Ana, are you up?” Pinkie called, knocking again. “We’re almost at Altalusia!” The doorknob twisted in place.

Ana lunged for the door, pinning it closed. “I’m not dressed!” she snapped. Another of the buttons came loose, and she began shuffling a leg out of its sleeve.

“Neither am I!” Pinkie cheered. “Do you even have any clothes?”

Ana paused. It was possible that she had made a mistake. “Of course I have clothes, Auntie.”

“But I’ve never seen you wear any!” Pinkie said. “Oh oh! Is it that dress Rarity made you? I bet it is! You want to show it off back home, don’t you?”

There was a thump as Ana let her head fall against the door. Great. She had talked herself into a corner. She didn’t have any other clothes. Taking off the dress now couldn’t do anything more than possibly raise suspicion.

“You saw right through me,” Ana deadpanned, tail flicking. She sighed as she slipped her leg back through the sleeve and redid the buttons.

“Aw, I knew it!” Pinkie exclaimed. The wood outside Ana’s door squealed complaints as the pink mare hopped in place. “Well, get it on! I’ll be waiting right here!”

Ana allowed herself a brief roll of the eyes before getting into character. Why didn’t I just pretend to be asleep? Eugh, she would probably have just come in anyways. Straightening the dress and putting on a timid smile, Ana reached out and opened the door. She didn’t flinch when the confetti flew into her face.

“Surprise!” Pinkie reared up on her hind legs as she blew the obnoxious little party horn into Ana’s face. She held a small box wrapped in cool blue with white ribbon. “You’re invited!”

Ana blinked. She forced her smile a little bit wider. “Invited?”

“To my Getting-the-Gang-Together party!” Pinkie explained, shoving the little package into Ana’s hooves. “I don’t know when it’s happening yet, but it’s really happening!”

“How can you invite me to a party if you don’t know when it happens?” Ana asked. She looked down at the box, pulling the little card tucked into the ribbon out. “YOU’RE INVITED TO PINKIE PIE’S GETTING-THE-GANG-TOGETHER PARTY AT ALTALUSIA THIS ???”

“Cause I do know where it happens, silly filly!” Pinkie winked at her. “All my friends are gonna be there, so I thought I’d invite you too! The more the merrier, after all!”

“All your friends?” Ana echoed. “I thought you hadn’t spoken with them since you left Heighton?”

“Pfft!” Pinkie blew a loud raspberry into the air. “Trust me, I’ve got a good feeling about this. Everybody who’s anybody is gonna be there, and it’s gonna be a real doozy!”

“Everybody, huh?” The gears were ticking in Ana’s head. If the other four Gifted were coming, then Gava probably wouldn’t be very far behind. And if Gava had lost the trail, then Ana could send some messages out to try and tip her off. Altalusia had a thaumagram station, didn’t it? Probably not a public one, but she was sure she could find a private one on some baron’s land. She renewed her smile, more sincere this time. “Sounds like fun.”

“Yeppers! Nice dress, by the way!” Pinkie gave her an exaggerated wink. “Let me tell you, girl, you look good!”

“Thanks for the invitation,” Ana said, shutting the door.

“Wait!” Pinkie’s hoof flashed out, catching the door with surprising strength. Ana couldn’t help but flick her tail in annoyance. “We’re almost there, silly filly! Aren’t you gonna come out?”

Ana let out a sigh. “I suppose I should.” She turned back to the satchel propped up against her bed. Aside from the dress, all of her meager possessions were contained therein. “I’ll be right out.”

“Okie doki loki!” Pinkie said, withdrawing her hoof. “I’ll be waiting right here!”

Safe behind the door, Ana rolled her eyes before walking over to the bed. She frowned at the mirror leaning against one wall. Stupid filly. Ought to find some place to sell off the dress and never think of it again.

She looked down at the invitation once more before stuffing it into her satchel, a plan taking shape. Lady Rarity and Pinkie Pie could be formidable opponents, but she was certain that Gava and the rest of the crew would be able to handle them. She would do some scouting for ideal ambush spots once she was off the ship. Chances were that Gava had already captured the other Gifted and was looking for Ana’s leads even now.

A small smile tugged at Ana’s lips as she slung the satchel’s strap over her shoulder. She was looking forward to having a nice, long break.

Rarity leaned back into the cushioned seat of the carriage, watching the afternoon countryside drift past.

Countryside. She had spent most of her life living in Ponyville, and yet the oat fields and wooded hills in the distance felt almost as foreign as the ruins of Canterlot. It felt like it had been a lifetime since she’d been able to look out a window and see nothing but a field of oats swaying beneath a windmill.

“This is your first time on a baronland, isn’t it?” Whitehorn asked. He was reclining against the opposite seat, a small notepad cradled in his hoof.

“It feels strangely like home,” Rarity said, keeping her gaze on the window. Her ear flicked as the sound of Pinkie Pie pestering the wagon crew outside competed with the idle birdsong from a passing copse of trees. “I can’t even see the water from here.”

“I had the same thought my first time,” Whitehorn said. “I find that it gives the ponies here an interesting perspective.”

“Hrm.” Rarity blinked in surprise as the carriage jostled to a halt. “Oh, are we there already?”

Whitehorn shook his head. “Nearly. The guards will just want to speak with us.”

Rarity poked her head out of the window, quickly spotting the stallion and mare speaking with Pinkie in front of the carriage. An iron gate, the top lined with sharpened spearheads served as the only visible entry past the thick stone wall behind them.

“Hi, I’m Pinkie Pie!” she was saying, bouncing in place. “We’re here to see the Duke!”

The two guards exchanged incredulous glances. Each of them wore simple, trim outfits in earthy hues, with the image of a pike crossed over an orange shield emblazoned on the flanks. The stallion, a unicorn with a barbed sheath over his horn, was the first to speak. “What’s yer business with Duke Titus?”

His partner, a pegasus mare whose folded wings partially concealed the gun at her side, nudged him and gestured towards Pinkie’s bare flank. “Gifted,” she said.

The two guards tensed, and Rarity felt it was best to intervene before Pinkie did something too silly. She cleared her throat and waved a hoof out the window. “Excuse me, dears! Is there any issue?”

The guards turned towards her. The stallion approached while the mare took a few steps backwards. Rarity wasn’t a soldier, but she couldn’t help but notice how she kept the gun’s barrel trained on Pinkie.

“State your business,” the stallion said as he came up beside the window.

“As my energetic friend already stated, we are here to speak to Duke Titus,” Rarity said, giving him a sweet smile. “I am Countess Rarity.”

The stallion grunted. “I ain’t ever heard of any Countess Rarity. Where’s yer coat of arms?”

“Excuse me, friend,” Whitehorn said, leaning into view. “I know you’re just doing your job, but we’d quite like to see the Duke before he sits for dinner.”

The guard blinked. “Ah, Whitehorn, sir.” He dipped his head. “The Duke didn’t tell me he was expecting company.”

Whitehorn offered a small smile and nod. “That’s quite alright. We won’t be too long, and I believe Duke Titus would quite enjoy making the Countess’ acquaintance.” He pulled a couple bits out of his vest pocket. “Apologies for the inconvenience.”

The guard accepted the bits without protest. “Not a problem, sir. Just be sure ye don’t make any trouble.” He stepped back, gesturing towards his partner. The pegasus mare waved the carriage crew on with a nod of her head, and it rocked into motion once more.

“Bye bye, Grouchy Nose!” Pinkie said as she bounced along beside the crew. “Don’t be a stranger!”

Rarity caught the guard rolling her eyes as they pulled away. She wrinkled her nose at the way the guard’s gun barrel continued tracking them. “Is that really necessary?”

“Baronlands are not as… civil, let’s say, in certain ways,” Whitehorn said with a shrug. “The nobility are somewhat known for their unrestrained notions about property and its ownership, and it’s quite difficult for anyone to police such large swathes of land.”

Rarity turned to him, a concerned frown on her face. “Is there a crime problem, you mean?”

Whitehorn let out a small chuckle. “Well, yes, the unwary traveler can sometimes find themselves having to choose between their bits or their life. But I was referring more to the skirmishes the barons get into among themselves. Altalusia has been enjoying a period of relative peace for the past couple years, but old habits die hard.”

“Goodness.” Rarity raised a hoof to her chest. “I hope Ana will be okay.” The refugee mare had been quick to go her own way once they’d made landfall, speaking of her eagerness to reunite with her family. I barely even caught a glimpse of her in that dress.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Whitehorn said. “I’ve met thestrals before, and they have a talent for keeping out of danger.”

Rarity grimaced. “I do hope you’re right, darling.”

The path curved to the side, and as the carriage turned to follow it, their destination came square into view from Rarity’s window. The soon-setting sun painted the pale stone of Duke Titus’ manse a deep crimson. Two curved wings stretched out to either side of the main structure, hemming in a garden decorated with bushes trimmed to look like clouds and statues of soldiers in historic armor.

The building itself was done in the old pegasus style, with ridged columns carved into the shape of heroically posed pegasi lining the wide front balcony. The three triangular faces of the roof had been carved into gold-trimmed reliefs depicting scenes of battle. Orange banners, bearing the same pike and shield emblem the guards had been wearing, were draped along the outer walls, proudly displaying what Rarity assumed was Duke Titus’ family crest.

“What do you think, Countess?” Whitehorn asked.

“Well, he certainly has a better eye for decoration than Mr. Rich,” Rarity said, taking in the flowery scent of the estate gardens. “An interesting architectural style, as well.”

“Yes, Duke Titus is somewhat of a traditionalist.” Whitehorn took one last glance at his notepad before slipping it into a pocket on his vest. “The columns are actually carved in the likeness of past family dynasts. They’ve managed to acquire the labor of a Gifted sculptor at least once a generation for hundreds of years.”

“How charming,” Rarity said as the carriage finally came to a stop.

Whitehorn was quick to open his door, sliding out of his seat and turning to help Rarity down. “My Lady?”

“Thank you, sir.” Rarity gave him a warm smile as she accepted the offered hoof. She lowered herself to the paved courtyard with all the genteel nobility she could muster, resisting the urge to stretch her limbs after the long carriage ride. You must be at your most refined, Rarity. You’re to speak with a Duke!

Whitehorn dipped his head to the carriage crew, and the two stallions pulled away without a word. Pinkie Pie waved a hoof after them, loudly calling out, “Bye, guys! See you soon!”

Rarity took just a moment to straighten out her cream and marshmallow dress and levitate a comb through her mane and tail. “Shall we go, dears?”

She couldn’t help but crane her neck to look up at the pegasi carved into the six columns that lined the landing as she approached the stairs. They had to be two stories tall, at least. Each one leered down at her with the same stoic dignity, as if challenging her right to approach them. She shook the notion from her head, bringing her eyes to the path before her. A lady doesn’t get spooked by architecture.

The sound of Rarity’s shoes against the polished stairs echoed off the walls as she crested the landing. Whitehorn followed a few steps behind her, as befitting of her rank, while the etiquette-oblivious Pinkie bounced along beside her.

Rarity was just beginning to ponder how exactly she should knock on the heavy wooden doors when one of the gold handles twisted of its own accord. The door opened to reveal a thick-bodied pegasus stallion, his burnt orange coat partially hidden behind a loose silk gown embroidered with a pattern of silver and gold shields. A loose grey mane hung down around his sharp green eyes.

“Oh, good evening!” Rarity said, dipping into an exquisitely performed curtsy. “Is Duke Titus available?”

“We’re here to talk with him!” Pinkie added, waving a hoof in the air. “I’m Pinkie Pie!”

The pegasus’ steely gaze focused first on Rarity, then Pinkie. His jaw worked side to side as she continued to wave at him. Finally his eyes came to rest on Whitehorn. He let out a gravelly groan. “Are ye back to pester me again already?”

Rarity blinked. Is he just… ignoring me?

If Whitehorn had taken any offense at the greeting, he didn’t show it. He responded with a courteous bow and a friendly smile. “I’m afraid circumstances have led me to tighten my schedule, Duke Titus.”

Duke Titus let out an irritated huff. “Stew’s hot, Whitehorn, so let’s keep this quick. Why should I set aside a relaxing afternoon to entertain ye?”

Whitehorn gestured with one hoof towards Rarity. “Have you been following news from central Equestria?”

The Duke snorted, eyeing Rarity with a disinterested gaze. “Ye know I don’t care fer that gossiping drivel.” Rarity gave him one of her best smiles, but he remained unfazed.

“So then you haven’t heard the story of Countess Rarity?” Whitehorn asked. “The Last Lady of Old Equestria?”

Oh, heavens. That does have a flair to it, doesn’t it? Again Rarity curtsied, putting all the regality she could into the little motion. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my Lord.” She gestured with a hoof to Pinkie, who seemed determined to keep waving until somepony acknowledged her. “This is my—mm. My hoofmaiden, Miss Pinkie Pie.”

“Hoofmaiden?” Pinkie echoed.

Rarity shot her a meaningful glance, catching the other mare’s eye. “Of course, darling.”

Pinkie’s smile hesitated for a moment before returning. “Yepper, that’s me! The hoovesiest!”

“Uh huh.” Duke Titus didn’t arch a brow, but Rarity could hear the thought in his voice. “I’ve never heard of a Countess Rarity, let alone a Last Lady.”

“It’s a recent development,” Whitehorn said. “Rather miraculous, as well. I’m certain you’ll be quite interested in the tale, perhaps over that stew?”

Duke Titus let out a noncommittal grunt. At length he stepped aside, holding his door open. “Fine. But ye’d better not make a habit of showing up unannounced with strange mares.”

“Of course not.” Whitehorn beckoned to Rarity and Pinkie before walking through the open door.

Rarity went to follow, but the ever energetic Pinkie beat her to it, bouncing across the threshold and forcing Rarity to enter last in a grievous breach of proper decorum for a noble lady and her maiden. Rarity didn’t let her annoyance show, instead quickening her pace to catch up to Whitehorn. She had to remember that Pinkie wasn’t actually her hoofmaiden. Though I doubt she’d behave much better even if she was.

Duke Titus took his place at the front of the group, leading them across an open foyer, beneath a mezzanine decorated with hanging pike-and-shield banners, and left down a wide hall that ran the length of the mansion.

His estate wasn’t as over-decorated as Crazy Rich’s, leaning more towards the tasteful philosophy of less being more. Small columns and stands bearing pegasus-styled suits of armor in varying designs took turns filling the space between the doors. Charming designs, Rarity thought. She could easily imagine Rainbow Dash prancing about in one, boasting about her speed and strength. An idea for a dress came to her, and she filed it away for when she finally reunited with her other friends.

A servant in plain orange garb waited at the end of the hall, holding the door open, and Duke Titus led the group past him without even a nod of acknowledgment. “Take whichever seats ye wish. My son is out speaking with the peasants.”

Rarity’s ear flicked in surprise at the word. “Peasants, darling?”

“Do ye not have them, Countess?” Duke Titus shuffled his wings as he settled down on a cushion at the head of the table. A deep bowl of stew had been left unattended at the seat, giving off a scent of onion and carrot, while a plate of fried yam and roasted asparagus waited to the side. “Ye’re not one of those gibbering city nobles, are ye?”

“Not yet, she isn’t!” Pinkie declared, entering the dining room last.

“Heh. Well, that’s a plus fer ye,” Duke Titus said, something akin to a smile pulling at his face for a brief moment. “Well, sit down, then. Let’s hear about this so-called Last Lady.”

Rarity blinked. She had just been processing her opinion on the use of the word ‘peasant’ when her thoughts were interrupted by the Duke’s casual insult to the lifestyle she had dreamed of for all of her adult life. She was still trying to decide whether it was worth taking offense at Pinkie’s words when Whitehorn cleared his throat, drawing her attention.

He and Pinkie were already sitting on cloud-shaped orange cushions opposite the Duke. “My Lady?”

“Ah, yes.” Rarity sat down next to Pinkie, running a hoof through her mane. “To be quite honest, I’m not even sure where to begin,” she said, looking to Whitehorn. He had told her to let him handle the introductions, and she was more than willing to cooperate. He knew these social waters far better than she did.

Whitehorn let out a practiced chuckle. “Well, perhaps I can assist in that regard. Tell me, my Lord, how familiar are you with Old Equestria?”

“Get to it, Whitehorn,” Duke Titus said. He paused to dip his muzzle into his bowl for an uncouth bite of stew. He at least had enough manners to swallow before continuing. “Just tell me who this mare is ‘n why I should care.”

Whitehorn shrugged. “Well, she and her hoofmaiden here are two of the Elements of Harmony, and the other four are on Rich’s salvage ship.”

If Duke Titus was surprised by this announcement, he didn’t show it. He did, however, take the time to pull his mouth away from the fried yam held in his feathers and level a narrow-eyed gaze on the other side of the table. “Proof.”

Rarity raised a hoof and gave it a dainty wave. “If I may?”

He nodded. “Go on.”

The tinkling of magic drifted across the room as Rarity lit her horn. She didn’t think the Duke was the sort of stallion to be left slack-jawed at the spontaneous assembly of a dress, but a display of her telekinetic skills should be sufficient. Looking around the room, she embraced a pair of armor sets in her magic, and after a moment to familiarize herself with them, began to dance them around the table in synchronized step.

Duke Titus barely spared a glance for the pirouetting armor. “Is that all ye have for me, lass? Ye know I have a few Gifted in my service already, don’t ye?” He picked up a brass goblet in one hoof and raised it to his lips.

“Not enough for you?” Rarity pushed more power into her horn, extending her magical grasp further. Isn’t levitation supposed to be something special in this age?

More armor glowed with the pale blue of her magic. Orange tapestries flung themselves from the walls and tied themselves around the dancers with elaborate knots. Pinkie Pie leapt up with a cheer and joined the throng, grabbing a set of magically weightless armor and twirling it around her. The room was alive with motion, the sparkling light of magic playing across the cloudscape murals painted onto the walls.

Rarity turned to Duke Titus with a broad smile, angling her face so that the sweat dripped down on the side of her face he couldn’t see. Armor was technically clothes, but she was used to clothes made of fabric, not heavy iron and steel. She took deep breaths, ignoring the ache at the base of her horn.

Titus waved a hoof, and Rarity grit her teeth as she gently set her armored dancers down on the floor. “Ye’re a powerful Gifted, lass, but that doesn’t make ye a noble, let alone a character of legend.” He turned to Pinkie, who was leaning against a suit of armor with one metal hoof draped over her. “And what about ye?”

“I’m Pinkie Pie!” the mare said. “I throw the greatest parties in Equestria!”

“Uh huh.” Duke Titus watched her recline against his armor for a few moments before turning back to Rarity. “I hope ye can put all these back where they were.”

“Oh, certainly, darling!” Rarity said. She ignored her horn’s complaints as she sent her magic forth again, returning each set of armor back to its respective place, untying the knots in the tapestries and straightening any wrinkles before hanging them up once more. She did make a few tiny adjustments to their distribution, but the room looked better that way anyway. She pulled a small fabric out with a hoof and used it to dab the dampness away from her brow.

“Thank ye.” Titus took another sip from his goblet and turned to Whitehorn. “So ye’re back to talk to me about yer Gifted Table idea, I’m guessing.”

Whitehorn nodded. “You guess correct, my Lord.”

“And what’s happened that has ye thinking I’ve changed my mind?” Titus asked.

“It’s the circumstances that have changed,” Whitehorn said, leaning forwards and sliding into a conversational tone. “I’m sure you’ve heard about Marewick falling, and Fellis Island only days later. We were there for it, and every ship we took to get here had refugees aboard. The problem isn’t going away.”

“It was terrible,” Pinkie added. She slumped down onto a cushion, looking down. Rarity frowned as her mane began to sag. “There were so many ponies—everywhere.”

Duke Titus shrugged. “Two islands isn’t a pattern yet, Whitehorn, ‘n the situation in Parliament is as useless as it’ll ever be. I don’t need to make more enemies than I already have by trying to start some ridiculous revolution.” He paused, taking a bite out of his asparagus and swallowing. “I doubt yer plan would resolve the matter either way. Ye’d be better off throwing bits at the merchant princes.”

Rarity pursed her lips. Beneath the table, her tail flicked side to side at the Duke’s casual dismissal of the deaths of thousands of ponies. It was clear to her already that appealing to the greater good would accomplish little here. She hadn’t accompanied Whitehorn here just to sit idly by while he was rebuffed yet again.

She stood up, tossing her mane to draw the Duke’s attention. “Come now, darling. We’ve come all this way.” Rarity stalked around the table, her smile widening as she drew closer to him. “I can tell a generous soul when I see one, you know. Surely it wouldn’t be so much trouble to throw in a few good words for us?”

Duke Titus frowned up at her. She fluttered her eyelashes at him. He turned to Whitehorn. “Do ye really think a Gifted harlot is all it’ll take for ye to change my mind?”

Rarity nearly choked. “Hrk—tch, what?” she wailed. “Harlot?”

“Don’t ye try to hide it,” Duke Titus said, glancing her way. “I know how yer type works.”

Rarity’s cheeks flushed hot. A harlot? I never! She was still spluttering, struggling to come to terms with the insult, when the sound of the door opening came from behind her.

“Father?” a new, younger voice called. “I didn’t know we were having guests.”

Duke Titus looked past Rarity, towards the speaker. “Neither did I, lad. Come ‘n eat.”

Rarity took a deep breath, forcing herself to smile as she turned in place. A young pegasus stallion was closing the door behind him, an embroidered cloak covering all of him from the neck down except for his dusty brown feathers. A silver stripe ran down his charcoal mane, following the loose ponytail he wore it in down to his shoulders. He turned to face the table, and his jaw went slack as his grey eyes met hers.

“Afternoon, darling,” Rarity said, dipping her head. She decided not to comment on the way he stared at her. “I hope you don’t mind if we were discussing some business with your oh-so-lovely father.”

The stallion’s mouth closed and opened a few times before he found his voice. “Oh, uh, no! I don’t mind, not at all.” Rarity decided to take the moment to return to her seat as he approached the table.

When she turned to face the Duke again, his son was whispering something into his ear. “Mm. I see,” the Duke said. “Thank ye, Pontius. Take a seat, lad.”

Pontius nodded, sitting on a cushion next to his father. A pegasus servant entered the room, balancing more stew and side dishes on her splayed out feathers. Pontius continued to stare at Rarity as his food was served. Once the servant was done, Duke Titus beckoned to her and whispered something into her ear. She nodded before slipping out of the room once more.

“Well,” Whitehorn began, standing up. “I suppose it was foolish of me to expect you to change your mind, my Lord.”

“That’s never stopped ye before,” Duke Titus said. He gestured with a hoof. “Why don’t ye three spend the night? I’ve had some rooms prepared.”

“Oh, are you sure it won’t be too much trouble?” Rarity asked with mock concern. “I wouldn’t want you worrying about a harlot like myself corrupting your bedsheets.”

“Ah, give it a rest.” Duke Titus waved a hoof. “Ye know what ye were doing. I just called ye out on it."

Whitehorn frowned, cocking his head. “You haven’t even offered us food. I believe it’s clear that you’re not interested in my proposition.”

Duke Titus shrugged. “My staff didn’t cook dinner for five, but that can be remedied.” He gave Pontius a hearty slap on the shoulder with a wing and turned to Rarity. “My son here has taken a liking in ye, Countess. Why don’t we revisit this conversation in the morning?”

Rarity raised a hoof to her chest, feigning innocence. “Moi? Oh, goodness.” It had been painfully obvious, of course. The young stallion still seemed to be having difficulty keeping his eyes off of her, though they did sometimes flick to Pinkie for a few moments. “I suppose I can look past your vulgar comment. What do you think, Pinkie?”

Pinkie Pie looked up from the table, shaking her head as if trying to dislodge something. “Uh, yeah. I agree with you, Rarity.”

Rarity wrinkled her nose, but said nothing. She would have to talk to Pinkie about her mood swings. Not just now, however. She turned to Whitehorn. “Do you think you could spare the time, darling?”

Whitehorn responded with a hesitant smile. “Well, I won’t turn down making another attempt tomorrow. I do hope you won’t come to regret it, though.”

“Oh, no,” Duke Titus said, offering the first full smile Rarity had seen of his. “I don’t think I’ll regret it at all.”

“Hey, Boss?”

Gava stirred, poking her head up. The hammock hung still beneath her, lacking the comforting motion of a ship under way. “What’s up?”

Drift Eye’s head poked past the partially open door of her cabin. “Messenger came up to the ship. Thaumagram for ya.” His hoof came into sight as he tossed a letter her way.

“Thanks.” Gava snatched the letter out of the air as Drift Eye closed the door, leaving her alone once more. She flashed a talon out and sliced a neat gash down the edge, pulling out a short note. Six words traced a thin line along the top of the paper.

“Waiting for you in Altalusia, sis.”

Altalusia, huh? Gava had been there before. She’d caught her first fox in its woods. Whichever noble owned them had tried to catch her and punish her for stealing from him, so once she was done with the carcass she’d tossed its remains onto his mansion’s roof. Wonder if he’s still around.

The sound of labor and metal sawing through wood was clearly audible even through the walls of her cabin. The Roc’s Screech still hadn’t fully recovered from the beating it had received at the hooves of that purple witch, but it was nearly there. Gava tilted her head to eye the map hanging from one of her walls. A fast ship like the Screech could make it to Altalusia in just a few days.

But it wasn’t time to set out. She had to be patient until the repairs were finished. Tomorrow, most likely. Maybe she’d walk around with some chicken blood on her beak in the morning to put the speed of fear into the workers.

For now, Gava tossed the note aside, rolled over, and closed her eyes once more. She would tell Topgallant to chart a course when she got up. Memories and plans drifted through her head.

That witch wouldn’t see her coming this time.

Author's Note

Who is the mysterious Other haunting Twilight's mind? Will our heroine Rarity be able to turn Duke Titus into a trustworthy ally? And is this the first time Pontius has ever seen a mare?Tune in next time for more Empty Horizons!

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Supplement: Twilight's Notes on Reformation

Author's Note

This chapter is purely SUPPLEMENTAL. The content contained herein is not necessary for the enjoyment of the central story, and is intended only for readers that desire some extra context for the setting. Feel free to skip this chapter. You can always come back later.

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Supplement: Twilight's Notes on Reformation

Research Notes, Entry Twenty-Six
3rd of June, 673 Anno Caeli, 9:55 AM

During a scholarly discussion with Dusty Tome a few days ago, I admitted to him my frustrations with the poorly catalogued accounts of post-apocalypse Equestrian history. None of the books I checked out of Heighton contain any beyond the most cursory of conjectures on the developments I’ve missed during my absence, and the lack of opportunity to refresh my selection has grown increasingly inconvenient with each passing day. He had told me of an essay he owned, Risque’s Recreation of Pre-Reformation Eras, and offered to lend it to me. Of course I turned him down at the time. I simply lack space in my schedule to set aside for recreational reading.

I still do lack the time. Although my schedule remains packed, I must admit that I’ve hit a mental wall with regards to my research on sight restoration. I have often heard that taking one’s mind off of a subject is a fantastic method for allowing ideas to mature in the subconscious, and so I decided to take up Dusty’s offer. It was an extremely refreshing hour of relaxation.

The essay delves into the question of “Pre-Reformation” history, the period before the first islands signed the Equestrian Parliament back into existence and considered themselves a single political entity for the first time. There is unfortunately nothing solid with regards to dates, specific events, or ponies of historical significance, but Risque has quite thoroughly outlined her theories on the overall path of Equestrian history.

Risque proposes four ages, beginning with the depressingly named Dark Age which took place immediately after the destruction of the old world. The islands at this point were entirely independent, with the majority being too far apart to see each other. Although adventurous pegasi may have been able to fly between them (Risque posits that magic was still commonplace at the time, and I’m inclined to agree), no doubt the majority of attempts would have resulted in aimless flight until death. I have copied a quote regarding her ideas of life on the islands themselves.

Although myths and legends that seem to refer to this period vary wildly even on the same island, there is one concept that they all agree on: overpopulation. Stories often focus on heroic characters defending the innocent from raiders or uniting disparate groups in a bastion of civility among a wild land. Food and shelter were fought over constantly, often with disastrous side effects. It is here that I believe the idea of a common Equestria rapidly broke down, and also where the majority of the population was killed off. It is possible that this time was even more deadly than the flooding itself.

I find it a difficult proposition to accept that ponies would stoop so quickly to killing over material resources, but I must admit that it would be equally difficult to accept that they would allow themselves to starve peacefully. It is also possible that they were under some magical compulsion towards violence. ~~I have personally experi~~ It is no surprise that there are so few surviving records from during or before this time. Whatever history still exists from this era has been preserved only in oral tradition.

The proposed Exploration Age takes place roughly two centuries after the floods as the islands’ populations finally settled into manageable levels.

It’s at this point that warlords found themselves capable of supporting their population without constant raids or conquest for the first time. Although conflict over limited resources was still a common consequence of the birth of each subsequent generation, community leaders were given intermittent periods of peace in which to move their focus elsewhere.

It is difficult to say when they took place exactly, but there are legendary tales from several islands about community-sponsored groups of pegasi that struck out in search of other land. With immediate survival no longer a constant concern, ponies began to ask whether they truly were all that was left, and the result was a sudden renaissance in exploration and the related technologies. The first maps were drawn, and the first airships experimented with limited inter-island trade. I expect that this is also when the first salvagers began visiting the surface, though deep-sea submarines would not be created until the Reformation Age. See Part Five.

I have heard before that the ocean surface used to be filled with flotsam and valuable salvage, and that ponies would use airships to carry boats down to the water and scoop up what they could with simple nets. I’ve written about these salvage crews and the dangers they faced in Addendum A of Entry Twelve. With my first-hoof experience as to how dangerous salvaging has become since then, I cannot even begin to imagine how lethal the profession might become a few more centuries down the road.

Risque characterizes the following Reformation Age as starting when times of peace became more common than times of war, roughly three centuries after the beginning of the Exploration Age.

Developments in infrastructure, diplomacy, and above all the crucially significant airship allowed real cities to begin taking shape. We find our earliest records of the name ‘Heighton’ here, at an estimated five centuries old. Although each pony was expected to see at least ten years of war during their lifetime—many of which concerning religious disputes—the relatively steady peace allowed the modern Equestria to take its first steps towards rebirth.

The Reformation Age is the longest of my proposed historical periods, and includes the creation of many of the hallmarks of our society. I have included references to the first use of ‘Gifted,’ the earliest records of the merchant lords, and the most distantly traced ancestries of the nobility. With the exception of the ever-militant baronlands, ponies seem to start identifying themselves chiefly by their island of birth instead of their religious beliefs. Legends give way to real records, even if they are mostly incomplete. The most detailed accounts are invariably concerning military victories by the nobles or dramatic recountings of historical events portrayed by travelling minstrels.

It is also during this time that the Anno Caeli calendar is first adopted. Disappointingly enough, Risque doesn’t have any theories as to what specific event the calendar is based on. Logically something major must have happened to warrant a new calendar, but Risque can only hypothesize that a common calendar was necessary for inter-island trade. Why there don’t seem to be any records of such a calendar-setting event, I cannot imagine.

The Equestrian Parliament is signed into existence some decades later. Although it was originally attended by only a small selection of islands, the Parliament absorbed a vast majority of the known world over the following decades. Considering that inter-island warfare has had disastrous results for the attackers in every case, I can only assume that this was accomplished through diplomatic means. See Entry Twenty-Three for my findings on Parliament, or lack thereof.

Risque marks the beginning of the Modern Age with the end of the rapid expansion of the Equestrian Parliament’s membership roughly a century before my writing of this. By that time, the city-islands such as Heighton had used all of their available land and begun the process of building into the mines beneath them. She finishes on an optimistic note.

Equestria as a whole has come a long way since its collapse during the floods. Although questions regarding our cataclysmic past remain largely unanswered, I hope that some of this fog will be cleared away as the now-united nation forges forth into the future. I, for one, am proud to do my part in establishing a line of Equestrian scholars that I hope will last for millennia to come.

In summary, an engaging read. However, I don’t find myself sharing Risque’s optimistic assessment. I have seen nothing to indicate a united Equestria, and certainly nothing akin to what existed in my time. I admit that I’ve spent the majority of my time on the same airship, but the stories I hear from the crew indicate a realm rife with mistrust. Perhaps Rarity will have more encouraging experiences to share once we reunite.

I hope she and Pinkie are okay.

~~I'm~~

I think that my plan was a success. I remember seeing a book in Trails’ room during one of our magic tutoring sessions. It’s probably a year overdue, but perhaps it can help me with my current project.

XIX: The Duchy

“Philomena!”

Twilight shot up out of bed, heart thumping. She had her hoof outstretched, grasping for an arcane javelin that was nowhere to be seen.

“Whoa! H-hey, calm down, now.”

Twilight blinked in rapid succession, taking in her surroundings. She was in the little medical room aboard the Argo. A heavy rubber collar was fixed around her neck, constricting her breathing. It glowed a gentle lavender as she made to rip it off.

“Stop that!” Dusty Tome’s pale green hooves reached out to unclasp the collar’s latch before Twilight broke it. “That’s expensive!”

Twilight took deep breaths, forcing her racing heart to slow. “Sorry, I was just—thought I was somewhere else.” She swung her hooves off the bed to stand, but Dusty stretched out a leg to hold her back.

“Uh, hold on a second, now. You need some rest,” he said.

Twilight reached out to brush him aside. He stepped back, letting her slide off the bed and onto her hooves without further resistance. “I feel fine. Where’s Philomena?”

Dusty cocked his head. He shot a nervous glance towards the door behind him, tugging at the lapel of his jacket with almost imperceptibly thin magic. “I, uh, don’t know who that is, Twilight.”

Twilight shook her head, holding it in one hoof. She remembered speaking with The Other, watching herself make to strike down Philomena. But then—what? It was all blank. “The phoenix. The glowing monster we fought.” She met Dusty’s eyes, leaning in close. “Did it survive?”

He leaned away from her, not meeting her gaze. “Uh, you killed it, Twilight. You saved everypony. But are—”

“Ugh!” Twilight slumped back against the bed, sending it rolling into the diagnostic machine next to it. She sighed, closing her eyes. “But I didn’t mean to.” I’m sorry.

A few moments passed before Dusty’s voice broke the silence. “Hey, uh, are you alright? Your suit was in shreds when they brought you up here. They said you just teleported back onto the sub and then passed out. You had wet ashes plastered all over your coat.”

“I’m… fine,” Twilight said. She opened her eyes and looked down at herself. Her coat was matted and clammy, but the body beneath was bereft of wounds. “I’m fine.” But why? She had been on the brink of death before, and now she felt well-rested and whole. A pang of anxiety formed in her chest. “Was I gone very long?”

Dusty shook his head. “It’s only been about an hour since the sub returned. Are you sure you’re okay?” He took a tentative step forwards. “I had to cut what was left of your dive suit off of you. The ocean should have crushed you.”

Yes, it should have. Twilight blinked, taken aback at the thought. “What about the others?”

The other unicorn shrugged. “Flint and Sabre had some minor burns, and Applejack some bruising. I actually just managed to get your friends out so I could focus on you.”

“Thank you, Dusty,” Twilight said. At least it wasn’t a total loss. She had saved her friends, and that was something to be grateful over. She would have only put everypony in danger by trying to speak to Philomena. The phoenix had clearly fallen victim to the same terrible condition that had taken Owloysius. Twilight could only hope that Celestia’s old companion would find some peace. Or perhaps her ashes will coalesce in a few days, and she’ll be tortured once more. Perhaps she’s already died a dozen times.

Twilight shoved the thoughts aside, standing up. “I should go see my friends.”

Dusty stepped to the side. “I’m sure they’d like that.”

Twilight nodded. She slipped out into the hall without a word, making for the cargo hold that had become her home.

The Other Twilight had saved her and her friends when it subjugated her will. With the determination to survive behind her and the benefit of hindsight with her, she had to admit that she would have likely failed in the endeavor without its help. For the first time, she began to wonder if it was really as evil as she had thought.

She glanced at the cloudy horizon visible in the passing windows. Hadn’t it always acted in her interest, protecting her and her friends?

She shook her head, chastising herself for her foolishness. It had tainted her with violent thoughts, whispering terrible things into her ears. It had killed Philomena and it had banged against the bars of her mind yearning to kill many more in the past. She had no proof, but she suspected that it was of the same corruption that had turned Equestrians against each other in the past. It was evil, and she couldn’t allow herself to forget that.

Yet it had saved her.

Twilight let out a relieved breath as she walked into the dining room. Applejack was nursing a brass mug as she spoke in quiet tones with Fluttershy. “Hey, girls.”

Fluttershy was the first to react. “Twilight!” She flapped her wings, latching onto Twilight with a surprisingly firm hug. “Oh, we were so worried!”

Applejack followed soon after, laying a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder. “Shucks, filly, y’all gave us a right scare there. I’m gettin’ too much practice with waitin’ on friends to wake up.”

Twilight offered a sheepish grin. “Sorry, girls. I’ll try not to turn it into a trend.”

“S’already a trend by my reckonin’,” Applejack said as she and Fluttershy stepped back. “How ya feeling?”

“It can’t be a trend until there’s three data points, Applejack. I’m feeling fine.” Twilight decided to ignore the near-imperceptible arch of her friend’s eyebrow. “Definitely much better than I thought I’d be. Where’s Rainbow?”

“Oh, she’s, um, practicing,” Fluttershy said. “She’s in the hold with Sea Sabre.”

“Yeah, she’s been pretty keen on learnin’ to fight ever since—” Applejack paused, taking a sip from her mug to cover herself. “Uh, y’know. ‘Shy, why don’t y’all go tell her that Twi’s alright?”

“Oh, okay,” Fluttershy said, backing up a few steps before turning for the doorway. “I’ll be back in a little bit, I guess.”

Twilight watched her go, reluctant to meet her other friend’s gaze. When she did, she found her worries realized in Applejack’s gaze. “It’s gotten worse, ain’t it?”

Twilight sighed. She plopped herself down into a chair and rubbed at her eyes with a hoof. Once she blinked the stars away, she noticed Applejack offering her mug from the seat besides her. Twilight took it with her magic and gave it an inquisitive sniff. More of Flint’s cider. After a moment’s deliberation, she lifted the mug to her lips and took a long, hearty draw.

A few seconds passed before Applejack spoke. “Y’all wanna go somewhere a mite less public?”

Twilight shook her head, offering the mug back. The aftertaste clung to her tongue. “No, I’m fine. Just give me some time to collect my thoughts.” She took a couple deep breaths, her eyes outlining the stains worn into the table. “What happened?”

“I had been hopin’ y’all would be the one tellin’ me that,” Applejack said, accepting the mug and peeking into it. “Land sakes, girl, it’s almost all gone.”

“I don’t remember what happened, is the thing,” Twilight admitted. She kept her eyes on the table. “Not completely, at least.”

“I see,” Applejack said. Silent seconds passed as the knot of anxiety in Twilight’s chest grew. At last, Applejack leaned back in her seat and pushed the mug aside. “Well, after y’all quit respondin’ on the radio, Sabre told Flint to go find ya, which he did, just in time for that monster to light ya up. Then all of a sudden y’all were out in the water, glowin’ somethin’ fierce and chargin’ right at the thing.”

Twilight shivered, leaning into her friend. “I… killed it. I remember that.”

“Just about hit the sub and killed us with some of those magic beams, too,” Applejack groused. She wrapped a leg around Twilight’s shoulder. “But y’all saved us in the end, Twi. Ain’t no way we woulda gotten outta that without ya.”

Twilight felt her throat tighten. She squeezed her eyes shut as she forced the next words out. “It w-was Philomena. I k-killed Philomena, AJ.”

“Philomena?” Applejack echoed. Again, the silent seconds. She pulled Twilight closer, lowering her voice. “Shoot, Twi, it ain’t y’all’s fault. I think she was long gone. Ya did her a service.”

“No I didn’t!” Twilight snapped. “I could’ve saved her! If I had just kept control, then she’d have survived!” A sob racked her body. “I k-killed Celestia’s p-pet. She might have known where t-to find her!”

“Twilight Sparkle, you best hush with that nonsense!” Applejack’s stern voice was clear in Twilight’s ears. “Y’all know there ain’t no sense in that kind of speculatin’. Even a half-blind hen can find a rattlesnake in November if she don’t stop lookin’.”

Twilight let out a groan and buried her face in Applejack’s fur for the second time that week. She latched onto the other mare’s words, turning them over in her head. A sob and a laugh competed for dominance. “I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.”

She could feel Applejack’s grin against her forehead. “What I mean is that y’all are seein’ guilt where it don’t exist. Y’all don’t know any of those things, sugar cube. Ya did the best anypony coulda done. That’s all that matters.”

The laughter won out, and Twilight didn’t have the will to resist. She snorted, a sloppy smile breaking out onto her face as a few salty tears dripped down her cheeks. “T-there’s more.”

“Go on, then.”

“That t-thing I told you about,” Twilight began. “The dark thing. Do you remember? It—s-spoke to me.”

“What?” Applejack pulled back, looking Twilight in the eyes. “What are you sayin’, darlin’?”

“It’s—” Twilight gulped as she searched for a proper word. “It’s—intelligent. I think. It t-took over. I was—it f-forced me into a d-dream and—I was just so tired.” The concern in Applejack’s eyes nearly held Twilight back, but she pushed on, her voice shaking. I can’t do this all alone any longer. “It kept t-telling me, ‘go to sleep’. I’m n-not sure if I would h-have ever woken up. But I didn’t, and—b-but it still t-took control. I could feel it, and I was f-far away—and it killed Philomena! It killed her and I couldn’t stop myself!”

There was a long moment where Applejack just looked at her, and Twilight began to worry she had said too much. Would her friend cast her out? What if she told the others? She thought back to Owloysius floating dead in the water, leaking blood from the wound Star Trail’s javelin had given him, and to the fresh memory of Philomena lying crippled on a statue of her old master. What if I’m next? The next thing to be put down and mourned because I was already gone?

She flinched as Applejack pulled her back into a tight embrace. A comforting hoof ran down her mane. “Thank y’all for tellin’ me, Twi. We can take care of it together now, ya hear?”

Twilight sniffled, letting her stiff body relax as the fears drifted away. “Are you going to tell the others?”

There was only a moment of hesitation. “Do y’all want me to?”

Twilight shook her head. “I d-don’t want them worrying. W-we can t-tell them later.”

“Alrighty, sugar cube,” Applejack said. “Y’all just promise to tell me when anythin’ happens, okay? I’ll help ya through it.”

“Thank you, Applejack.” Twilight closed her eyes. A semblance of peace began to take hold as Applejack hummed soothing notes into her ear. “Thank you.”

“I’m not a great fan of this Duke Titus, darling,” Rarity said. She frowned in the hoof mirror floating before her as she checked her makeup.

Pinkie gave an exaggerated nod from where she sat on Rarity’s bed. “He’s a real grouchie, that’s for sure. I’ve got a good feeling about him, though!”

“Goodness, but how could you?” Rarity dabbed at her cheeks absent-mindedly with a cotton. “He barely gave us the time of day until his son trotted in with that gaping fish mouth of his.” She paused in her ministrations just long enough to curl her lip at her reflection. “And he called me a harlot. A harlot, Pinkie!”

“What’s wrong with being a harlot?” Pinkie asked.

Rarity nearly dropped the mirror. She turned to hit the other mare with an incredulous stare.

Pinkie blinked back at her. “What?”

“A harlot!” Rarity repeated. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting out a brief sigh before re-opening them. “Pinkie, dear, do you know what a harlot is?”

“I thought I did,” Pinkie muttered, tapping at her muzzle with a hoof. “Hmm, it’s some kind of clown, right?”

“It’s a call girl,” Rarity said. She turned back to stare intently into her hoof mirror, forcing a conversational tone. A lady is not stirred by petty insults. “You know, a courtesan, a fille-de-joie?”

Through the mirror, she saw Pinkie crack a nervous smile. “Uh…”

“A prostitute!” Rarity snapped. She looked up to the cloudscape painted onto the ceiling of the chamber Titus had given her and let out a guttural groan. “It’s a prostitute, Pinkie!”

“Oh,” Pinkie said. A moment later, Rarity felt warm hooves wrapped tightly around her. “Don’t worry, Rarebear! We all know you’re not a harlot!”

Rarity couldn’t help but smile as she leaned into the hug. “I appreciate it, darling.” A few moments passed while she allowed her pent-up ire to drift away. “Okay, that’s quite enough of that. I need to check my mane now.”

Pinkie gave her one last squeeze before stepping back. Rarity wasted no time in returning her attention to the hoof mirror and performing some expert adjustments with her comb. They would be speaking with Duke Titus again, the brute, and Rarity wasn’t going to let his barbarous tongue get in the way of all the good she could do for Equestria, no matter how disgraceful it was. She found herself thinking back to Mister Lay Drifts from Fellis. I wonder, how many ponies of this ilk will I have to suffer to get the job done?

A knock at the door grabbed her attention. “Who is it?”

“Is Pinkie with you, Countess?” Whitehorn’s voice asked from out in the hall. “She’s not in her room.”

“Right here!” Pinkie sang, bouncing up to the door and pulling it open.

“Ah, there you are,” Whitehorn said. He looked away, raising his voice a bit. “Are you proper, my Lady? I was just going to go speak with the Duke, and would quite enjoy you mares’ company.”

“You know we don’t normally wear clothes, right?” Pinkie asked.

Choosing not to fall into that particular conversation trap again, Rarity ignored the comment and fluttered her eyelashes at her reflection. She was wearing a simple pale blue dress with golden highlights around her neck and hooves. She let out a small tut of satisfaction before setting the mirror aside. “Yes, I think I’m about ready. Shall we set forth?”

The three ponies started down the hall at a gradual walk, keeping roughly abreast. “I’d like to apologize for the incident last evening, my Lady,” Whitehorn said.

Rarity angled her head towards him. A wonderfully crafted painting of a column-adorned cloud city passed by, framing him in its splendor. “Whatever for, darling?”

“The Duke, of course.” Whitehorn shook his head. “I should have warned you about that roughness of his. I apologize for the rude comment he made, as well as any others he imposes on you during our time here.”

They reached the end of the hall, and Rarity levitated the door open for the three of them with her magic. “That’s quite kind of you, but I won’t have you begging forgiveness over another’s crass words,” she said. She gave him a small smile as she followed him and Pinkie through the door. “As long as we’re remembering what we came here for, I think it may even be worth the trouble.”

Whitehorn dipped his head and returned the smile. “Your nobility never ceases to impress, my Lady. Also—”

He paused, and Rarity arched a brow. “Yes?”

“It’s unlike the Duke to have changed his mind so suddenly over an infatuation of his son,” Whitehorn said, the smile fading. He lowered his voice as they approached the door to the dining hall. “It’s also unlike Pontius to gawk over a pretty mare. I suspect that there is some other motive at play.”

Rarity heaved a sigh. “There always is, isn’t there?”

“Don’t worry, Rarity,” Pinkie said, laying a leg over Rarity’s shoulder and leaning into her ear. “I’ll be watching them both. Nothing gets past Pinkie when she’s on the case!”

“Thank you, dear,” Rarity said, patting the other mare’s hoof. “I appreciate it. Shall we get on, then? It would be awfully awkward if we were caught loitering in the hall like this.”

The three ponies entered as one into the dining hall. Duke Titus, wearing a robe of identical design from yesterday, was discussing something with a stern-faced pegasus in a light set of scarred metal barding. He looked up from the map laid out on the table at the sound of the door opening, and dipped his head to the newcomers as he rolled it up.

“Allow me to entertain my guests, Pole,” he said, pushing the map away with a hoof. “I’ll take yer report in the afternoon.”

Pole executed a short bow. “Yes, my Lord.” He grabbed the map with a wing, rolling it up and tucking it to his side, before walking past the visitors and out into the hall. He kept his eyes pointedly facing forwards.

Whitehorn gave the Duke a good-natured smile as he sat himself at the table. “Anything we should be worried about, my Lord?”

Titus grunted. He turned his attention to a plate of roasted vegetables sitting in a shallow sauce beside him. “Just landowner’s business, Whitehorn. I hope ye lot found yer rooms acceptable. Ye hungry?”

“I know I am!” Pinkie cheered, hopping onto a seat before Rarity in yet another breach of proper hoofmaiden’s protocol. “What’s for breakfast? Cupcakes? Pie? I had a dream involving some eccentric key limes last night, and I could use some closure.”

“I don’t think the Duke is quite the pastry fan that you are, Pinkie,” Rarity said, lowering herself daintily onto a cushion. A part of her was glad that the Duke seemed to have so little regard for social rules. No doubt a more proper noble would have little respect for a countess with such an unruly servant.

Duke Titus stomped a hoof, and a pair of pegasus servants entered the room with plates balanced on their spread wings. They began to serve the dishes as he spoke. “Eh, I’ll have the servants bake something fer ye.”

A few moments of silence passed as breakfast was served. Whitehorn was the first to speak. “Do you know, I had been curious at your change of heart yesterday.”

The Duke grunted. “Am I not allowed to change my mind, Whitehorn? Or would ye prefer to be on yer way?”

“I don’t think that’s quite what he meant, darling,” Rarity said, giving the other noble a placating smile.

“We’ve been doing business for some time now is all, my Lord,” Whitehorn said. “And even before that, I’d heard about your stubbornness.”

“Flattery won’t get ye anywhere, ye know. Heh.” Duke Titus shrugged as he poked at a carrot with a silver fork. “What can I say? I’ve got a soft spot fer my colt. The way he spoke about ye when he came in, I just couldn’t turn ‘im down.”

Rarity pursed her lips, flicking an ear. There’s something off about this pony. She turned to glance at Pinkie, who had her head cocked at the Duke curiously.

Whitehorn nodded, a friendly smirk on his face. “I suppose I’ll have to remember your weakness if I need anything from you in the future. Now tell me, my Lord, how can I ease your concerns about my proposition?”

Duke Titus snorted, quickly falling back into his usual aloof gruffness. “Ye know exactly what I’m concerned about. The barons won’t stand fer having some committee oversee them.” He bumped a proud hoof against his chest. “The land belongs to the nobility, and it’s our right to decide what we do with it.”

Rarity frowned, clearing her throat. “And what about the ponies under your protection? What about Equestria as a whole?”

“What about ‘em?” the Duke countered. “I know exactly what’d happen as soon as ‘Equestria as a whole’ gets into my business. They’d be coming down on me fer defending my own land, sending foreigners to patrol my roads, and knocking on my door hollering about my bits. What do I get out of it?”

Rarity’s tail twitched under the table at the display of selfishness. “You get stability, of course,” she said. “Why can’t you trust fellow Equestrians? In my time, war between ponies was nothing but a myth! You could focus your efforts on your land and your ponies without threats from the outside.”

“Yer time, huh?” Duke Titus said, his voice dripping skepticism. He gestured with a wing to the armor standing guard along the walls. “My ancestors were warriors, Countess. I’m proud to fly in their wake.”

“Consider, my Lord,” Whitehorn said. “You have the largest demesne on Altalusia. Only Duchess Nettlekiss can challenge you on her own. If you support the Gifted Table in Parliament, then your position will be unshakeable. Your lineage will dominate Altalusia for generations. Is it really worth passing over that opportunity just to have a chance at expansion?”

Rarity turned to Whitehorn, eyes wide. That didn’t sound like the kind of Equestria that they were trying to make. He met her gaze for just a moment before Duke Titus spoke.

“Now ye’re talking sense,” the pegasus said, rubbing at his chin with a hoof. “With a squad of Gifted keeping any upstarts from becoming too unruly, even that old crone wouldn’t be able to bother me.”

“And I’m sure your ponies would be way happier, too!” Pinkie chirped. “They wouldn’t have to make grumpy faces at everyone that came to see you, for one thing.”

The door to the hall opened, and Rarity was struck with a case of déjà vu as Pontius stepped in. He was wearing a polished steel plate over his chest, partially hidden behind an orange tabard. The younger stallion did a considerably better job of keeping his jaw under control as he dipped his head in greeting. “I’m going out fer a public showing, father.”

“A public show?” Pinkie asked, perking up. “Can I help? I’ve got a great ear for lyrics!”

“Showing, lass,” Duke Titus corrected. “To keep sure the peasantry don’t forget their place.” He turned to his son. “Keep an eye on the woods, eh?”

“Yes, sir,” Pontius said. He turned to leave.

“Ah, I’d like to come with you, darling,” Rarity said, standing up. She adjusted her mane with a hoof as Pontius looked back. Is that fear in his eyes? The poor colt. “I’m quite interested in seeing the land up close, as it were.”

Pontius grimaced, glancing towards his father. “Uh—”

“I’ll come too!” Pinkie said, bouncing off her pillow and starting around the table. “If the ponies I’ve met have shown me anything, this place needs some Pinkie prowess.”

Pontius tried to wave a hoof at the mares as they approached. “Wouldn’t ye be more comfortable in the manor? I’m sure my father has much to talk to ye about.”

“That’s fine, lad,” Duke Titus said, eyeing his son intently. “Show them around while I chat with Whitehorn here. Just be careful ye don’t lose them anywhere, eh?”

For a moment Rarity thought that Pontius was going to protest further, but the young pegasus gave in under his father’s glare. “Yes, sir,” he said. He beckoned with one wing as he held the door open with another. “Lady Rarity, Miss Pie.”

“Thank you, dear,” Rarity said as she led the way through the door. “We shan’t be too much trouble.”

Pontius closed the door behind them before taking the lead. The sound of conversation faded away as they followed the path to the front door. He didn’t look back as he spoke. “Shall I s-send fer a wagon, Countess?”

Rarity failed to suppress a giggle at the display of nerves. “I think we’ll be fine walking. Pinkie?”

Pinkie blew a loud raspberry. “You know I’d just walk alongside, anyways.”

Pontius risked a glance back, his gaze lingering on Rarity’s horn for just a moment. “Ah, alright. As long as ye’re alright with a walk.” A servant filly was scrubbing the entrance hall with a wet rag, and he beckoned her over with a hoof. “Head to the barracks and have a pair of soldiers sent to relieve the gate.” The filly scampered off without a word.

The rising sun greeted the trio as they stepped outside, passing between the imposing stone glares of Pontius’ ancestors on their way down the steps into the garden. His barding gleamed in the morning light, turning the blades fastened to his wings into twinkling silver feathers. Rarity couldn’t help but stiffen as she noticed them. Are those truly necessary?

The same pegasus mare as before was waiting at the gate. She straightened as they approached, rolling her shoulders. “My Lord.”

Pontius nodded. “Ivory. Where’s Onyx?”

There was a snort of alarm, and the unicorn stallion stepped into view from behind the stone wall that encircled the estate. “Here, my Lord.”

“I’ve sent fer replacements. I’d like both of ye to come with us,” Pontius said. “Lady Rarity and her hoofmaiden will be accompanying me, and we must ensure their safety.”

Onyx exchanged a glance with Ivory before responding. “Aye, my Lord.”

With their numbers bolstered, the party left the walled safety of the estate and traveled down the meandering dirt path at a steady trot. Pontius walked in front while Ivory and Onyx brought up the rear. All three ponies observed the passing countryside with the sort of aloof alertness that Rarity had only seen before in the eyes of Royal Guards.

Although Rarity had already glimpsed much of the baronland during the ride from the shore, she enjoyed the opportunity to stretch her legs. Farmers worked endless fields nestled among rocky hills that were unsuitable for agriculture. The farmers toiled under wide-brimmed hats that hid their faces and protected them from the long hours of harsh sun. A dog would sometimes join them, receiving a few pats from Onyx or Pinkie before returning to its business. Songbirds played in every copse of trees along the road while their larger cousins idly soared far above. If not for the soldiers in her peripherals, or the absence of the Canterhorn on the horizon, Rarity might have imagined herself on a calming walk outside the Everfree Forest. I do hope the other girls get Pinkie’s invitation. I’m sure Fluttershy would love a soiree through the woods after all the dreadful ash and stone of Heighton.

Pinkie was the first to break the peaceful silence. “So your name is Ivory, huh?” she asked.

Ivory’s tail twitched. “Aye.”

Another few seconds passed. “How come you didn’t tell me your name yesterday?” Pinkie asked.

Ivory shot her a sideways glare before looking away once more. “Workin’.”

Pinkie frowned. She exchanged a glance with Rarity, who responded with a slight shake of the head. Pinkie screwed her eyes up before trying again. “You can talk while you’re working, can’t you?” she asked. “We can be friends!”

Onyx cleared his throat. “It’s not that she can’t talk,” he said. “She just don’t wanna.”

From the way that Pinkie’s jaw dropped, it was clear to Rarity that the matter was about to spin out of control. She laid a soft hoof on Pinkie’s shoulder. “So where are we going, exactly? Is it very much further?”

“Just over that hill,” Pontius said, gesturing forwards. “I like to get out and speak with the peasants every few days.”

“To keep them in line, as your father said?” Rarity asked. “I do hope that’s not what all these weapons are for.”

“Th’ weapons are fer yer protection, my Lady,” Onyx said. He scanned the countryside as he spoke. “It’s unsafe t’ travel otherwise.”

“And they’re certainly not fer the peasants,” Pontius added as they approached the crest of the hill. “I only hope to remind them that my father and I care fer their safety. The weapons aid in that regard.”

“Ah, how kind of you,” Rarity said. A sugar coating for the truth, darling? She certainly didn’t feel very safe in the moment, tucked amidst a trio of armored ponies. She looked them each over once more. The memory of her scuffle in the fabric shop came to mind, easing her nerves. She and Pinkie would be able to defend themselves if necessary.

The village on the other side of the hill was a drab yet quaint affair. It was little more than a couple dozen stone hovels spread haphazardly around a larger wooden building in the middle of a dirt yard. Farms covered the surrounding slopes, the crops partially obscuring the homes of the families that worked them. Rarity’s eye was drawn to the top of the lone wood construct, where the roof had been carved into the likeness of a faceless, spread-winged alicorn. Her forelegs were wrapped around a lovingly detailed brass relief of Princess Celestia’s cutie mark.

Rarity wrinkled her nose at the display. It wasn’t the first time that she had seen religious buildings dedicated to the Princesses, but she was far from used to it. Neither of them would have wanted to be worshipped as goddesses; she knew this. Perhaps it’s better than being forgotten altogether, though.

“So this is the place?” Pinkie asked. She stopped bouncing, opting instead to walk along the ground as she looked around. “It kinda reminds me of the rock farm.”

Pontius glanced back. “How do ye farm rocks?”

“You just—” Pinkie sighed, her mane losing some of its puff as she kicked at a pebble. “Roll them around.”

“Pinkie, dear,” Rarity said, stepping close enough to rub shoulders with her friend as they walked. “Perhaps you could throw them a party? I’m sure they’d quite appreciate it.”

She smiled as Pinkie’s mane popped back into place. The mare jumped in place and let out a giddy shriek. “Do you really think so?”

“But of course, darling,” Rarity giggled. “I’ve never met anypony that would turn down a Pinkie Pie party!” Her ear twitched at the derisive snort she heard from Ivory’s direction.

“Oooh hee hee! I’m gonna need some supplies!” Pinkie bounced to the front of the party. She turned around to face Pontius as she spoke, now bouncing backwards. “Who’s the lucky pony I talk to to get some party supplies around here?”

Pontius pulled his head back from the unnatural display of coordination. He stretched his wings for a brief moment before returning them to his sides. “Cinnamon Twirl is the ealdormare here. Ask fer her.”

“You got it! See you guys at the party!” With an exaggerated salute, she turned around and sped ahead of the group.

Ivory let out a low nicker. “Finally.”

“Ah, don’t be that way, Ivy,” Onyx said from Rarity’s other side. “Th’ mare’s got spirit is all.”

Pontius slowed his pace and raised his head as the group came closer to the village. Rarity knew when a pony was donning a mask, and watched the subtle transformation with interest. He’s been comfortable with his soldiers so far, but he cares how the villagers see him. He wants to be somepony they can speak to, but not one to get familiar with.

Pinkie’s distinctive voice drifted through the air. Many of the villagers had had their ears angled in its direction, but they were quick to forget about her once they noticed the young lord in their midst. Most of them stepped out of the path, bowing in silence. Some uttered quiet greetings before returning to their business. None raised their gaze to meet his, but Rarity did catch a few glances stolen in her direction. She did her best to smile at those villagers, only to have them all quickly look away. She suppressed the urge to let out an indignant huff. That brute Titus must have made them this way.

Although the villagers’ shyness towards an unfamiliar noble could be forgiven, Rarity supposed, the felonious grade of their wardrobes was harder for her to overlook. Coarse browns and dirty whites were the dominant colors, and most ponies wore nothing but simple coats and caps. Rarity was reminded of the many spats she’d shared with Applejack over such attire. How would she describe it? Ah, yes. ‘Practical.’

Pontius approached a yellow-coated pegasus mare leaning against the door to her stone cottage. He spoke with a thicker accent than Rarity had heard him use before. “Sun shine ye, Twirl.”

Cinnamon Twirl was the only villager Rarity had seen that was willing to look Pontius in the eye, but it was hard to tell if she was flaunting it or just being friendly. “Sun shine ye, Master Pontius. How’s yer father’s health?”

“Duke Titus is in fair spirits as usual, thank ye,” he said, giving her a small smile. She didn’t respond in kind. Pontius cast an eye over to where Pinkie was speaking with a wide-eyed filly. “Ye hear that mare’s lookin’ fer ye?”

“Aye, whole village’s hearin’.” Cinnamon Twirl watched as Pinkie bounced behind another cottage and out of sight. “Lass could find me in ten seconds if she’d spare more ‘n a moment fer each pony. Ain’t that many of us, though. She’ll get t’ me soon enough.”

Pinkie’s cheery voice was moving around the village so fast that Rarity could almost imagine she was teleporting. “Are you Cinnamon Twirl? Darn! Are you Cinnamon Twirl? Drat!” A little smile played at Rarity’s lips. She seems to be having fun, at least.

Cinnamon Twirl just shook her head before turning back to Pontius. “Ye on business?”

“Just rangin’ the land, Twirl,” Pontius said. He gestured with a wing. “Have ye met Countess Rarity?”

Rarity stepped forwards with a sweet smile. She didn’t care if she was a noble or not, she would greet this mare like a neighbor. “I’ve heard many things about the beauty of baronlands, but I must say that your charming village puts the stories to shame.”

“By Celestia’s blessin’, my Lady.” The suspicion in the mare’s eyes was subtle, but as clear as day to Rarity. “I’m sure th’ Duke is pleased t’ hear it.”

“Is there anything my hoofmaiden or I could help with while we’re here, darling?” Rarity asked, leaning forwards. “Anything at all?”

“Yer presence alone is help enough, my Lady,” Twirl said. Her voice had a dry timbre that sat on the narrow fence between wit and exhaustion. “We’ve our troubles well-handled, thank ye.”

“Ah, of course.” Rarity stepped back, a small frown on her lips. She doesn’t trust me. And why should she? She’s probably never met a Gifted or a noble with an actual interest in her life, the poor dear.

Cinnamon Twirl gave a respectful dip of her head before turning to Pontius. “Lad came in from th’ east yesterday. Said he was headin’ t’ th’ manor t’ speak with th’ Duke. Stayin’ with Mother White if ye want t’ see ‘im.”

Pontius nodded. “Thank ye fer lettin’ me know. Fare well.”

He turned back to the path, the two guards following in silence. Rarity hesitated only long enough to give a little wave and receive a plain-faced nod in return before following suit. “Does your father hold many of these villages, Pontius?”

“My father collects tribute from nearly a dozen settlements in this part of Altalusia,” Pontius said. He fluffed his wings up as he spoke. “We’ve held our position as the most powerful dynasty on the island fer over a century.”

“Ah, I see.” Rarity grimaced as she realized that they were heading for the church to Celestia. She had never actually been inside one of the things. “And I’m certain that you do more than just collect tribute from them, of course?”

Pontius glanced back at her, his head partially cocked. “Of course. My father and I understand th’ meaning of fealty.”

The double doors of the church were banded in brass and built into a frame fashioned like protective wings. One was already ajar, leaving space for the party to slip inside single file. The earthy scent of chrysanthemum tickled Rarity’s nose as she entered behind Pontius. Narrow windows of stained glass flanked blanketed pews, resting above lovingly tended beds of the brilliant flowers. Depicted in the colored panes, Rarity saw ragged peasants kneeling in prostration, heroic warriors slaying terrible beasts, and humble leaders caught in passionate speech. In each window, the image of a gleaming sun was prominently displayed.

Morning daylight streamed in through an opaque window stained in a radiating pattern of gold and white at the far end of the church. The light silhouetted the faceless marble statue of an alicorn, its wings stretched up to cradle the rising sun while its forelegs reached out as if to encompass the entire church in their embrace.

Rarity didn’t notice the earth mare sitting with bowed head before the statue until she lifted her head, looked back, and spoke. “Sun shine ye, Lord Pontius.”

“Sun shine ye, Mother White,” Pontius said. “Twirl tells me ye have a lad lookin’ fer my father.”

“Aye, I do.” Mother White nodded. The hood of her gold-trimmed white robe bobbed with the motion. It was without a doubt the most aesthetic outfit in the village, despite its simple design. Her gaze passed over Rarity and the two soldiers. “Shall I fetch ‘im fer ye?”

“Please,” Pontius said. He took a few steps to the side and sat down on the nearest pew.

Mother White nodded once more. Her robe rustled as she stood and disappeared through a small door off to her side.

Rarity looked up into the blank face of the alicorn statue. So this is how these ponies see Celestia? It felt alien to her, a far cry from the maternal warmth that the Princess of the Sun had always exuded. She thought back to all the Summer Sun Celebrations she had attended back in simpler times, watching Celestia raise the sun in that very same pose, marveling at her beauty and her regal poise. In an instant the Celestia of her memories became ragged and gaunt. Her pristine coat became patchy and torn, leaving only her rainbow mane untouched in its ubiquitous arcane breeze. Rarity looked up into the blank face of the alicorn statue and she saw the empty, bloodstained eyes of the Celestia that had prowled the flooded streets of Fellis Island looking back at her.

She blinked, and the image was gone. Don’t let your imagination get the better of you, Rarity. She still hadn’t told Pinkie about what she had seen that day. Perhaps she would muster the courage to share the story when she reunited with all of her friends.

Rarity welcomed the distraction when Mother White reentered the room with a young stallion in tow. He stepped nervously towards the pew where Pontius had taken a seat to wait, urged on by her gentle presence.

“Ye wanted t’ speak with th’ Duke, lad?” Pontius asked. The lanky unicorn colt nodded, and Pontius beckoned with a wing. “Ye can speak t’ me then. I’ll pass th’ word along.”

The colt looked to Rarity, who gave him a friendly smile, before speaking. “It’s about yer bounty, my Lord.”

Rarity stiffened. Bounty? She took a casual glance towards the still-ajar door and saw Ivory watching her intently. Had the price on her and Pinkie reached Altalusia as well? She grimaced at the lack of usable fabrics in the church. That little shop had been so charming, too.

“Speak on, then,” Pontius prompted, leaning forwards. “What do ye know?”

“Th’ bandits, my Lord,” the colt said. “I can show ye where th’ camp is.”

Pontius pointed a wing towards where Onyx was standing. “Tell ‘im where ye found it, lad. We’ll go take a look.”

The young pony rushed to oblige, and Rarity realized that she had been holding her breath. She let it go, fidgeting with her mane with a hoof. Foolish girl, ready to bolt at the first mention of a wanted pony. “I had heard that you have crime problems in these lands.”

Pontius stood up and shuffled his wings. “Aye, and sometimes our patrols aren’t enough. A few bits always helps t’ open sealed lips.”

“I see.” Rarity looked over to where Onyx was listening intently to the young pony. “And I suppose the next step is to find the camp and—then what?”

He shrugged. “Then we bring ‘em t’ justice.”

“Surely you don’t mean—” Rarity grimaced, the word stuck in her throat.

Pontius gave her a curt nod. “Aye, death. Father’s never taken kindly to those that break his law, and even less so t’ stockin’ ‘em in a dungeon and feedin’ ‘em. If they’re wise, they’ll run and not give us reason t’ look fer ‘em again.” He paused before adding, “Assumin’ we can’t catch ‘em.”

“But they’re still ponies!” Rarity insisted with a step forwards. “They have families and stories. Surely they have a good reason for what they’re doing?”

“That’s not our concern,” Pontius said. He exchanged nods with Onyx as the colt finished his story. “A lord’s duty is t’ his land, not t’ those that threaten it.”

He stepped back outside, Onyx quick behind him. Rarity stared after him with her mouth open, ignoring Ivory’s impatient stare. How could anypony think that way?

She let out an unladylike nicker. Focus, Rarity! You can save those ponies! She shook herself, cantering past Ivory and out into the sunlight. Pontius was listening as Onyx pointed towards a wooded hillside and recounted what he had heard. Rarity fought to keep her face neutral as she approached him, but failed to steady her voice altogether.

“Your duty is to the ponies, not the land, y—” She caught herself before an insult slipped out. “When did the nobility forget the meaning of chivalry?”

Pontius turned to her. He cocked his head, a small frown on his face. “Countess, th’ ponies are th’ land.”

Rarity opened her mouth for a rebuttal, only to find that she couldn’t think of one. She knew that there was something off about what he had said, but she just couldn’t find the words for it. After a few seconds she settled for an indignant, “Hmph!” and turned away.

The stallions resumed their conversation as she seethed. Pinkie Pie bounced into sight from behind the church, waved, and rushed to close the distance. “Hi, Rarity! Something wrong?”

“It’s just—” Rarity let out a dramatic sigh. She didn’t want to talk about Pontius behind his back. Even if, technically, he was actually the one behind her back at the moment, she felt like complaining about him not two steps away would be entirely improper. “Just this world, Pinkie. Did you find Cinnamon Twirl?”

Pinkie cocked her head. After a couple seconds, she burst out into a wide smile. “Yeppers! Nopony can hide from the Pink forever!” She reared up and struck a pose as she spoke, only to break down in giggles a moment later. “She wasn’t too cooperative at first, but she gave in after a few rounds of my smilegressive negotiating. Party’s gonna be in the big sun house tonight, and you know you’re invited!”

Rarity gave her a wan smile. “Thank you, darling. I’m quite looking forwards to attending.”

Pontius cleared his throat behind her, and she forced a calm demeanour onto her face before turning to face him. His accent had thinned to where it was before entering the village. “We’ll be making fer the camp now, my Lady. Would ye like me to send fer an escort back to the manor? The village keeps a couple pigeons.”

Rarity scoffed. “Certainly not! I shall be accompanying you to speak with the bandits.”

“You’re not going to take too long, are you?” Pinkie asked from behind her. “I don’t want you guys missing the party!”

“I’m sure we can have it handled and be back before sunset, Pinkie,” Rarity said. She glanced up to the sun as she spoke. It wasn’t quite noon yet.

“My Lady, we aren’t marching into the woods to speak with bandits over a meal,” Pontius said, drawing her attention back to him. “They’ll know the risks they’ve taken, and they won’t wait to speak to ye until ye have ‘em begging for mercy on the ground.”

Rarity raised her chin, looking him in the eye. “I am not the type of fair maiden that requires coddling to interact with the world, Pontius. If you don’t want my company, then you’re more than welcome to try and stop me.”

An exasperated grimace formed on his face. He glanced back to Onyx and Ivory as if for support, but their attention remained steadfastly elsewhere. He turned back to Rarity only to see that she hadn’t moved. Please back down, she thought. Although her recent experiences had quite bolstered her confidence with regards to violence, she would have hated to get into a fight. There was just so much dirt in the little village.

At last, he relented. “Very well, then. But ye stay behind me and ye don’t get involved. These ponies are dangerous, and yer clothes won’t protect ye from a weapon aimed to kill.” His eyes darted down to her cutie mark for a moment before he continued. “I don’t want to have to drag ye back to the village bleeding all the way.”

A sweet smile crept past Rarity’s stern facade. “Certainly, darling. I would hate to stain this outfit, either way.”

Steam hissed above Twilight’s ear as the door to the cargo hold slid open. She stepped through without looking, engulfed in the copy of Callus’s Classified Collections on Chiroptera suspended before her.

Her concentration was broken as she bumped into something warm and furry. She flinched, the book falling and clattering against the metal of the floor as she looked up and noticed Fluttershy.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Fluttershy said, stepping aside. “I, um, wasn’t looking where you were going.”

Twilight gave the mare a soft smile as she levitated the book closed and laid it to rest on her back. “You’re fine, Fluttershy. It was my fault.”

“No, I should have been watching,” Fluttershy insisted. “I know how you are with books, Twilight. I was just distracted by Rainbow.”

Twilight followed the other mare’s gaze and noticed for the first time the pair of pegasi circling each other in the open space beneath Rainbow’s cloudroom. Rainbow and Sea Sabre both had their wings flared, the feathers sheathed in hard wood. “That’s just a spar, right?” she asked. “They’re not actually fighting?”

“Oh, goodness, no,” Fluttershy said. “Rainbow’s just been so frustrated lately with her training. She kept telling me about how, um, ‘pointless’ all the drills were and how, uh, ‘stupid’ it was. And I’m sure Sea Sabre’s a very good teacher!” She shot a nervous glance towards the two other pegasi. “So I suggested that she talk with Sabre about it, if she wanted, and Sabre told her they could have a practice fight.”

“I see.” Twilight teleported the book into her room for later, sitting down next to Fluttershy to watch. “I guess she roped you into cheering her on?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say roped,” Fluttershy hid behind her flowing mane. “I mean, Applejack’s busy helping Trails with the sub, and I would just hate for Rainbow to feel lonely. I know just how important it is for her to have a friend to cheer her on.”

“Of course not.” Twilight gave her nervous friend a sincere smile. “I know she appreciates it.” She faced the makeshift arena, raising her voice for a cheer. “Go Rainbow Dash!”

Rainbow turned, her eye lighting up as she saw the new audience member. She waved with a hoof. “Hey, Twi! Here to see my new moves?”

Twilight opened her mouth to respond just as Sabre pumped her wings, lifting her hooves off the ground and propelling herself forwards with barely a sound. Twilight gasped as she realized that she had caused her friend to leave her blind spot exposed. “Rainbow, look out!”

Too late. Sabre hooked a hoof under Rainbow’s neck, flipping her over onto her back. In the same motion she wrapped her hind legs around Rainbow’s wings, pinning them in place. Rainbow released a strangled squawk as she was slammed into the ground.

Sabre’s wooden blade was already against her neck. “You’re dead.”

“Ack—no fair!” Rainbow coughed. She strained against the other pegasus’s hold to no avail. “I wasn’t ready!”

“You were ready ten seconds ago,” Sabre said, stepping back. “Now you’re dead.”

“She distracted me!” Rainbow leveled a hoof on Twilight, who blushed and looked away. “And you came in on my left side, too! I couldn’t even see you!”

“You let your guard down, Rainbow,” Sabre said.

Rainbow gnashed her teeth, glaring at her mentor. She jumped backwards and lowered herself to the ground. “Fine! Let’s go again!”

Twilight had her hooves clasped over her muzzle. “Oh my goodness. I didn’t mean for that!” She kept her voice low to ensure that only Fluttershy could hear her.

“Maybe we should be more careful with our, um, cheering,” Fluttershy whispered, shrinking down. “I wouldn’t want to distract her again.”

“Come on!” Rainbow launched forwards, twisting mid-air to strike with one wing. Sabre turned to the side, deflecting the blow with one wing while her other arced around to strike at Rainbow’s belly. “Hrk!”

Rainbow grunted as she spun head over hooves and landed face-up on the ground. Sabre rested a hoof on her neck. “Dead again.”

Twilight had flinched from the sound of the impact. “This is their first time sparring?” she asked.

“Well, Rainbow spent her first day of practice sparring with her, actually,” Fluttershy said. She whimpered as she watched her friend throw herself forwards again, only to be bodily flung to the ground once more. “She’s doing better this time. Go, Rainbow Dash! Woohoo!”

Twilight grimaced. “Oh.”

Rainbow bounced back to her hooves for the fifth time. “Stop doing that! I can’t even see on that side!”

“Did you want me to go easy on you?” Sabre asked. She had only just begun to breathe hard. “Or do you want to learn how to fight?”

Rainbow scuffed a hoof against the floor, her tail flicking side to side and her ears flat against her head. She flung herself forward with a reckless scream.

The sound of venting steam prompted Twilight to look back just as Flintlock stepped into the cargo hold. He sat down next to Twilight. “Sparrin’, huh?”

Twilight let out a little laugh. “I’m beginning to wonder if I should say something.” Rainbow yelped as she was tossed up into the air and vanished into her cloudroom with a puff of white.

“I don’t think Rainbow would like that,” Fluttershy said. “But that’s just, um, what I think.”

“Eh, don’t ye worry,” Flint said. “This is how it always goes. Sabre’ll have ‘er in shape soon enough.” Rainbow darted back out of the cloud before it even had time to settle. He chuckled as she got a hit in on Sabre’s shoulder before being flipped off her hooves.

“You’ve seen this before?” Twilight asked. She clapped her hooves together as Rainbow picked herself up off the ground yet again. “Keep it up, Rainbow!”

“Ye, I’ve been workin’ with that mare fer at least a decade, it feels like.” His eyes grew distant as he spoke, his lazy smile fading. “Seen ‘er train a lot of good ponies. I was one of ‘em.”

Twilight cocked her head at the strange tone in his voice. She thought back to the empty soldier silhouettes that she had seen die in Flint’s dream. Why didn’t they have any faces? The question hung heavy on her tongue, but she couldn’t think of the right words. Maybe it wasn’t the time. She doubted the surly stallion would answer her anyways.

A thunderous cheer erupted from Fluttershy. She took flight, waving her hooves in the air. “Yay, Rainbow! You did it!”

Twilight refocused on the fight. Rainbow had practically collapsed on top of Sabre. Her wooden blade was lying against the other mare’s neck. Twilight stomped her hooves, lending her own voice to the cheer. “Go, Rainbow!”

“Heh,” Rainbow was panting hard as she rolled off of her teacher. “Gotcha.”

“So you did,” Sabre said, climbing to her hooves. Both of them were drenched in sweat. “So that’s one in fifteen. Do you think you can catch me out again?”

Heavens, I should have changed before coming out here. Rarity wrinkled her nose as she followed Pontius across a small stream, using her magic to hold up the hem of her skirt. She was dressed to negotiate over a dinner table, and now here she was hiking through the woods to find some bandits. Pontius probably would’ve left without me if I had left to assemble a proper outfit, though.

They’d been walking for an hour at least, weaving a path through the forested hills of Duke Titus’ land. The canopy kept her from getting a good look of the sun to gauge time, and so she had only the soreness in her hooves to go by. She winced as she stepped in some mud. Better hooves than shoes, I suppose. The shoes she had been wearing would have probably been ruined by now if she hadn’t left them in the village.

Onyx paused as he approached a rocky ridge, prompting the rest of the party to come to a stop behind him. He crept up to the ridge line, poked his head between a pair of rocks, and then returned to the group.

“Camp’s ahead,” he whispered. “Fire’s out, but still some smoke.”

“So they just left,” Pontius said. “Perhaps they just finished lunch.”

“Should we try to track them down?” Rarity asked. She forced herself to crouch alongside the others in spite of the dirty ground. “We should be close, yes?”

Ivory shook her head. “Huntin’.”

Onyx nodded. “Aye, they’ll return before th’ day’s out, probably laden with whatever loot they get their hooves on.”

“We must be patient,” Pontius said. He tapped Ivory’s shoulder with a wing. “Ye take first watch. We’ll take ‘em by surprise.”

Ivory dipped her head. “My Lord.” She advanced up the ridge, tucked herself into the shadow of a tree, and settled down to wait.

If time had flowed slowly before, it progressed at a crawl now that the group had reached their destination. After the first two hours, Ivory relinquished her position to Pontius. Onyx took up the watch two hours later. All the while Rarity was forced to wait in silence with only the ambient birdsong and occasional rustle of leaves to fill the void. A light drizzle began to fall, and she was thankful that her dress was already so far gone that the water could do little more to harm it. It was approaching sunset when Rarity finally moved to take her turn. Pontius raised a wing to stop her.

She turned to him and received a small shake of the head. She glared daggers at him as she swept the wing aside with a hoof and advanced up the ridge as quietly as she could. Onyx exchanged a questioning glance with Pontius before relenting the position.

Rarity was grateful for the mental stimulation as she took her first look at the campsite. Four thin bedrolls were laid out in the dip between a pair of shallow ridges. Cloths propped up on stakes protected them from the weather, and an ashen pile of wood sat in a circle of stones in front of a small tent. All in all, it wasn’t a very interesting site. Rarity strained to keep herself focused despite the creeping boredom.

The orange light of sunset was filtering through the trees when she felt a tap on her back. She turned to see Onyx beckoning for her to rejoin the group.

“They should be back by now,” Pontius said. The irritation in his voice was apparent even with its low volume.

“We should be headin’ back as well, my Lord,” Onyx said. “Th’ moon’s wanin’, and I don’t favor th’ hike back without bein’ able t’ see my hooves.” Ivory nodded, but said nothing.

Pontius let out a quiet grunt. “Perhaps they saw the lad spot them and were spooked. Let’s see if we can’t find anything in the camp, then we’ll head back.”

He led the party up and over the ridge, no longer concerned with stealth. Rarity was thankful for the opportunity to stretch her legs as she followed. She didn’t know how Twilight could ever stand to sit still for so long. I do hope Pinkie’s party is still going by the time we return.

The camp was of little more interest up close than it was from atop the ridge. The bedrolls were disgustingly dirty, no doubt having gone without washing for weeks. There were a few sacks hidden in the tent, but they found nothing but bread and bruised fruit inside them. As the sun drooped ever lower, Rarity found herself using her hornlight to help illuminate the site while the party combed the ground for anything left behind.

“Gah, this is pointless!” Pontius spat. “We just missed them!”

“Perhaps we got lucky and they tried robbin’ th’ wrong pony,” Onyx offered. “We can find th’ bodies on th’ side of th’ road in a few days ‘n say th’ problem solved itself.”

Ivory let out a short cough. It took a moment for Rarity to realize that it was a sort of laugh. “Maybe.”

Rarity grimaced at the dark humor. “Or, better yet, perhaps they realized the error of their ways and retired from banditry for good?”

“Or maybe,” an unfamiliar voice called from the woods, “we spent th’ day sleepin’ off the cider at th’ tavern!”

Rarity’s heart skipped a beat as she spun around. She poured more magic into her horn, revealing the half dozen dirty ponies that had spread out along the ridge in the fading daylight. They leered down the slope with chip-toothed grins. A breeze swept through the little dip carrying the strong scent of alcohol.

“Stand down, bastards,” Pontius said, flaring his wings. “Ye’ve evaded us long enough. Let’s not make too much trouble.”

“Stand down?” a mare parroted back. “Do ye think us dumb? We know how yer daddy deals with banditry.”

“Then ye know that this is yer last chance t’ run,” Onyx growled. The light of Rarity’s horn gleamed off the barbed cap he wore on his horn. “If ye surrender then ye’ll get a clean hangin’. Ivy here is good with ‘er knots, and it’s a league less pain than gettin’ gored in th’ gut.”

Ivory gave an agreeable nod. “True.” She shuffled a wing over the place where her gun was secured to her side.

“Now let’s not be too hasty, darlings!” Rarity stepped in between the two parties, looking between them. “I’m sure we can talk this out. Nopony needs to get hurt.”

A bandit stallion turned to the mare next to him. “Isn’t that th’ Gifted from th’ poster in town?”

The mare blinked in astonishment. “Aye, it is! We’ve stumbled on a pretty bit, fellas!”

“You will address her by her station as a lady,” Pontius said, stepping in front of Rarity. “She is under the Duke’s protection!”

“Th’ Duke’s protection’s a few heads short of fair, by my count,” the mare shot back. She took a threatening step forwards. “Hand ‘er over, and we’ll let ye run back t’ daddy in one piece.”

“I can speak for myself, thank you, darling.” Rarity stepped out from behind Pontius. “I don’t want to fight you dears, you know.” She offered a friendly smile. “If you just tell us what’s inspired you to opt for banditry, I’m sure we can resolve the matter peaceably.”

The bandits exchanged a few confused glances with each other. “Why’s it payin’ so good fer this mare?” one asked.

“Cause she’s Gifted, ye dunce. Stronger’n any, th’ sheet said!”

“If she’s so strong, how come she ain’t killed us all by now?”

“Maybe ‘er talent is talkin’?”

“Doin’ a piss poor job of it, if’n that’s th’ case.”

“Shut it!” the first mare shouted, bringing the debate to an abrupt halt. “Time’s up! Let’s get ‘em, lads!”

Rarity’s eyes widened as she came to the realization that friendship wasn’t going to resolve this conflict. Thunder roared from under Ivory’s wing, the flash of the gun burning the after-image of the charging bandits into her vision once it faded. Pontius leapt back in front of her and caught an earth mare’s charge. He grunted as he was lifted off his hooves by the tackle, his wings flapping in an attempt to keep his balance. Rarity was trapped in a brawl, and blood was already being spilled around her.

The world was a blur of violence. The light of her horn cast long shadows against the surrounding ridges like some sick puppet show. She had to do something. A lady does not sit idly by.

She clenched her teeth and poured the magic into her horn to summon up the only solution she could think of. “Be still!”

The woods fell into an eerie silence. Even the birds had stopped their singing, having been frightened off by the commotion. A pale blue glow smothered the campsite as everypony around her found their clothes suddenly clamped tightly to their limbs and refusing to let go. One of the bandits grunted as his ragged outfit ripped and dropped him to the floor. He bounced back to his hooves in an instant, charging for Rarity with his horn lowered.

“I said, still!” Rarity grabbed her own dress in her magic, tearing it free and launching it at the bandit. He yelped as he was wrapped up in its dirtied, silky folds and pulled to the ground. A pang of mourning swelled in her breast at having to mistreat the dress further, but if she was being honest with herself, it had died far earlier in the day.

Rarity was breathing hard. Oh, how does Twilight do it? “I just wanted to talk, but I see that Altalusia is clearly inhabited by unruly foals!” She turned to where Pontius and the earth mare were frozen mid-wrestle, and with the most delicate nudges of magic she could muster, released his clothes.

He dropped to the muddy ground with a thud. “M-my Lady?”

“Pontius, darling, please tell me you have restraints,” she seethed.

Pontius blinked. “Ah, we have rope. F-for hangings.”

“Ah, of course, hangings.” Rarity took a deep breath. A few beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. “Be a dear and tie these bandits up. Their hooves, not their necks.”

He grimaced, but didn’t push the point. “Aye, my Lady.”

Rarity stood stock still as the young noble worked. He first fetched a long length of rope from the satchel which hung opposite Ivory’s gun before beginning to hobble each of the bandits. He ran out of rope before the final one, and so Rarity indicated for him to use the corpse of her increasingly tortured dress.

She felt nearly ready to faint by the time he was done. A shaky breath escaped her as she let the magic fade, plunging the woods into a darkness broken only by the last pale vestiges of the day. A series of thuds and grunts filled the air as each pony hit the ground. She was quite grateful when Pontius appeared at her side to steady her. Ah, perhaps there’s some chivalry in him, after all.

“My Lord.” The urgency in Ivory’s voice helped push some of the exhaustion away as Rarity and Pontius turned to face her. “Onyx.”

The unicorn soldier, despite being free from Rarity’s arcane grip, was bent over nearly double against a tree next to his partner. He let out a groan. “Aye, I’m bleedin’ over here.”

Rarity pushed off of Pontius and found her own tree to lean against, freeing him to rush over to the wounded pony. “Where is it?” he asked.

“Pegasus got a good slice on my belly,” Onyx said. “Don’t ask how, th’ slippery fuck. I gave ‘im better ‘n I got, though.” He nodded weakly to one of the bandits. He had fallen limp to the floor once Rarity had released him.

“Ye did good with that,” Pontius said. He nodded to Ivory, then to the bandits. “String this lot together. We’d best be quick.”

Ivory’s eyes lingered on her partner as she nodded. “My Lord.” She began making the rounds at a rapid pace, taking the rope off the dead bandit to work with.

Rarity, for her part, resisted the urge to close her eyes and rest. She had learned that restraining ponies that were trying to break free was far harder than making armor dance, and she had pushed herself further than ever before. A weak grin tugged at her lips. I’m no Twilight Sparkle, but I can still make a difference.

She whimpered as Ivory helped her to her hooves for the walk back to the village. The night was far from over yet.

Perched in the trees above the campsite, Ana watched with slitted eyes as the line of bandits was led down the hill and back towards the village. She was glad that she decided against purchasing some light barding when she had stashed her dress back at the port town. The Countess wasn’t the archmage that the bounty postings made her out to be, but her talent for manipulating clothing couldn’t be denied. Even just a chestpiece might have been enough to reveal her if she was close enough. Ana had never seen so many ponies held hostage by magic before.

She filed the thought away for later. No armor when fighting Rarity. Then again, the unicorn had clearly been exhausted. Either way, it was a note to consider once Gava finally arrived.

She jumped from her vantage point, gliding silently after the prisoner train on her leathery wings. The darkness of the nighttime woods was no obstacle to her eyes. Her hooves touched lightly against branches passing beneath her as she trailed her target.

These Gifted were odd. They were a breed she hadn’t seen before, and not just in terms of power or naivete. She had crossed paths with many Gifted in her life, but none had the strange, near-suicidal compulsion for selflessness that these two did.

It made her wonder about what Equestria was like before the floods. The Countess and Pinkie had spoken often about how different the world was, and for the worse. It crossed her mind that perhaps it wasn’t all an act. She had seen some convincing acts before, but usually a pony smart enough to put one on wasn’t dumb enough to try it when it mattered.

She let out a quiet snort, confident that the sound of the wind and wildlife would cover her. She was looking forwards to catching up with Gava and seeing if her sister had made any similar observations.

She almost felt bad about it all. Almost.

Author's Note

Who will determine the final fate of the bandits? Will Pinkie ever actually get to throw a party that I write? And will Fluttershy ever receive the credit she deserves for helping Rainbow win the fight? Tune in next heat death for the exciting continuation of Empty Horizons!

With this update, EH now surpasses the 150k word count that I had originally plotted it out for. It's hard to say exactly how far we're going, but what's certain is that I can't be trusted with word estimates.

Join the EH Discord!

XX: The Price

A voice spoke behind her. “Mooncursed.”

Anatami turned away from the window, facing the wooden double doors across the hall and the soldier standing next to it. She arched a brow.

The soldier’s posture was stiff. He gestured to the door with a hoof. “The Duchess will receive ye.”

Ana didn’t offer any verbal response. She stalked across the hall and towards the door, her eyes passing over the nettle bush designs carved into its surface. The soldier didn’t go to open it as she came close, and so she came to a stop beside him and eyed him expectantly.

For a moment, it almost looked as if the soldier would go through with his little power play. It didn’t take more than a few seconds for him to cow, however. He dipped his head, reaching out to open the door.

Good decision. He was probably just a ceremonial guard, anyway. His gaudy armor didn’t look as if it would be effective in combat, and Ana suspected that his polished gold-and-silver shoes would just shatter if he was forced to kick anything.

The Duchess had somewhat of a flair for ceremony, a trait that was rare among baronlanders. Ceremony was expensive, and a soldier in gold leaf trained to look like a soldier wasn’t a match for one with more practical weapons and experience. Her throne room was long and framed on either side by thick nettle growths. Chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, cradling even more nettle. Something tells me this lady has never heard of moderation.

Duchess Nettlekiss reclined on a cushioned throne at the far end of the hall, nestled among even more nettles. A silver crown fashioned into the image of thorned leaves encircled her horn, and a thick coat of pale yellows and greens wrapped around her brown-furred body. “A mooncursed blemishes my court,” she mused. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Her voice scratched at Ana’s ears.

Ana repressed a sigh. The soft fabric of Rarity’s dress rustled as she dipped into a shallow bow. “Opportunity calls, Duchess. We have mutual enemies.”

“And which enemy would that be, mooncursed?” the Duchess asked. “I feel that I would recognize ye if we had met before.”

“Duke Titus,” Ana said. She smirked at the haughty flicker of anger on the Duchess’ face. “I’m a bounty hunter, with a capable ship and company, and he gives shelter to my targets. I’ve heard that you two have a history.”

“Ye’ve heard correctly,” the Duchess growled, her eyes drifting as she spoke. “That feathered barbarian has held me back from my true greatness fer far too many years.” Her green eyes refocused on Ana, sharp and piercing. “But ye are just a bounty hunter, mooncursed, and I have spoken with many in my time. Beyond yer dark nature, what sets ye apart from the rabble?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard of Gava the Griffon,” Ana said. And I’m sure you’ve never heard of Anatami the Thestral. “We’re partners.”

The Duchess rose up out of her cushioned seat with a swiftness surprising for her age, propelled by the fury that surged onto her face. “That cocksure animal? Aye, I’ve heard of ’er!” She pointed a shaky hoof upwards. “She threw a dead fox onto my roof and left it to stink!”

Ana blinked. “Wait, that was you?” She looked around, observing the hall with a fresh perspective. I don’t remember there being so many nettles.

“That was me!” The Duchess took heavy steps down the dais her throne sat upon, her grating voice echoing off the walls as she came closer. “Never before or since have I witnessed such disrespect for one’s betters! I would’ve had ’er drawn and quartered if the coward hadn’t fled afore that corpse worked up a proper stench!”

“Huh.” Ana glanced towards the half dozen soldiers lining the walls. They bore real weapons instead of spears, and one was Gifted. She mentally reviewed her escape plan as she faced the approaching noble. “The offer still stands, Duchess. We have bodies, talented officers, and an airship. All we ask is for you to attack the Duke’s manor and take what you can.”

“Why should I, eh?” The Duchess spat. The earthy scent of her perfume reached Ana’s nose as she came closer. “How about I take yer head instead fer a souvenir? A mooncursed trophy would make fer a fine conversation starter.”

Good thing Gava isn’t here, Ana thought. Her bigger sister often took poorly to threats. Ana kept her tone carefully neutral, confident in her ability to escape if she needed to. “You can place a bounty on my head any day, Duchess, but opportunities to put Titus in his place are—” She smirked. “—a rarity.”

The Duchess glared up at Ana, working her wrinkled jaw side to side. Ana gazed back with her slitted golden eyes, well aware of the disconcerting effect it had on most ponies.

“What payment are ye asking, mooncursed?” the Duchess asked.

“None beyond my targets,” Ana said. “We’ll be making our attack whether you come or not. It’s just a question of whether you want to take advantage of it.”

The Duchess curled a wrinkled lip. “Do not be so foolish as to forget who’s in charge here, filly,” she growled.

“Of course not,” Ana said, holding her gaze. Nobles could be touchy, and they didn’t like being dictated to. Doing as much within their own halls was a good way to embarrass them. “Apologies, Duchess.”

The older mare gave her a thin-lipped smile. “There’s a good lass.” She turned back towards her throne, presenting Ana with the elaborate design sewn onto the back of her coat. Nettles, of course. “I shall consider yer offer, mooncursed. Tell yer eagle brute that she is not welcome on my land.”

Ana dipped her head. She kept her face carefully neutral. “Thank you, Duchess.”

“Now begone from my sight,” the Duchess spat. “Afore I change my mind.”

Ana turned for the door. She stalked back out into the hall without a sound, appreciating the silence with which the dress’s cool fabric slid over her coat. A shifty-eyed ceremonial guard waited for her there, and she allowed herself to be escorted through the building.

She had been a bit too pushy, giving her ultimatum to the Duchess. Still, she believed the deal to be solidly struck. Nettlekiss would gripe to those near to her about the disrespectful bounty hunter that dared to dictate terms to her, but at the same time she would be making subtle preparations. Ana hadn’t been bluffing when she said that the opportunity to seize superiority from Duke Titus was rare. She’d spent many hours gathering intel since arriving at Altalusia, and was well aware that Nettlekiss had been clawing at Titus’ position for years without success. The Duchess wouldn’t let such an occasion slip by, even if she would lose a bit of face from being summoned by bounty hunters.

The smell of wet grass heralded a light drizzle falling as Ana stepped outside. She gave a small nod to her nervous escort as she spread her wings, appreciating the wide range of motion afforded by her dress. She took to the air and climbed to a comfortable height before slipping into a lazy glide. Now all she needed was for Gava to show up.

Rarity shifted her weight from side to side. She ran her cleanest hoof through her mane, trying not to grimace too much at the coarse hairs. She was thankful for the lack of reflective surfaces in Duke Titus’ court. There hadn’t been time to acquire fresh clothes from her room upon arrival, but she would have hated to see just how decrepit her bare coat was.

The room was bare for a duke’s court, and small as well. It was just over half the size of the dining room, and whereas the latter was home to a host of detailed murals and painted armors, the court displayed little in the way of decoration. A pair of long windows set high in the walls let in the cloud-gray light from outside. A simple orange tapestry hung beneath each.

The room grew narrow towards the far side, drawing one’s focus to the raised throne and the thick orange fabric that hung low over the cushioned seat. A set of pikes hung on the wall above it, each one bearing a unique, gleaming blade.

It was very easy to imagine Duke Titus as contemplating which pike to use while executing judgment as he sat upon the throne. He glowered down at the five bandits kneeling in rope before him. The Duke had worn a grim smile when he ordered the prisoners brought to the court for judgment. Rarity’s hooves were aching after the walk back to the estate, still sore from yesterday’s hike through the woods, and she shifted her weight again as yet another minute passed. How she would have loved to collapse in her bed and regale Whitehorn with the dramatic tale of Rarity, the Gorgeous Bandit-Tracker. But she had to see things through first.

At last, Titus spoke. “Banditry.” The prisoners remained still, each one keeping their eyes down. “I should expect that at least one among ye are aware of my thoughts on it?”

After a few moments, the lead mare answered. “Aye, m-my Lord.”

“What is my position on banditry, then, fool mare?” Titus asked.

The mare gulped. “Banditry is a crime thrice-over,” she recited. “T’ steal from my Lord’s peasants is t’ steal from my Lord ’imself. T’ threaten my Lord’s peasants is t’ threaten my Lord ’imself. Th’ bandit denies my Lord their honest labor, and—” A deep shudder ran through her body as she forced the next words out. “And d-denies my Lord’s protection.”

Titus let out a quiet grunt. “I see yer parents taught ye proper, fool mare. A shame that ye didn’t take the learning to heart.”

“Aye, m-my Lord.”

“Tell me what’s to come next fer ye, fool mare,” Titus ordered.

The mare took a shaky breath, slumping down. “Death, my Lord.” Beside Rarity, Pinkie Pie let out a quiet gasp.

“Aye.” Titus stood. “And death again, fer injuring my loyal servant.” He glanced towards the armored pegasus stallion standing at attention beside his throne. “I want them executed before sunset, Pole. Keep the heads fer use as warnings.”

Rarity stiffened. “Is that it?”

Titus arched a brow as he looked to her. “What else is there to say, my Lady?”

“You haven’t even asked them to explain themselves!” Rarity stepped in front of the kneeling ponies, ignoring the way that Pole slowly spread his bladed wings. “You can’t just—kill them!”

“Do not tell me what I can and cannot do on my own land!” Titus roared. “My land, my ponies, my law!”

Rarity hated the way she flinched at the sudden outburst. “They’re ponies with lives, Titus! Parents, children, and siblings! You must at least let them plead their case!”

Pinkie hopped up to her side, teeth bared. “Yeah!”

“Ye dare to command a duke in his own court?!” Titus’ voice didn’t lower as he stepped down from his throne. “Ye best remember yer place and watch yer tongue, Countess!”

Rarity spread her hooves as he came closer, bracing herself. “I know my place, Titus,” she seethed. “But it seems the nobility has forgotten theirs in my absence!”

Titus came to a stop just a step away from her. Even without the assistance of the throne, he towered over her. “What’s yer plan, Countess? Do ye intend to raise hooves against me in defense of the very ponies who would’ve sold yer life away?”

“If I must,” Rarity said. She glared up into his eyes, hoping to cover her exhaustion with her anger. She didn’t know if she could really stop him if he tested her. She had drawn deep on her magic capturing the bandits, and she had woken from last night’s troubled rest feeling drained. Even if she could restrain Titus and his soldier, what then? She’d be forced to flee with five murderous bandits who had already tried capturing her once. She could only hope that they would be gracious for her help, and that Whitehorn wouldn’t forsake her. At least I know I have Pinkie at my side.

Titus met her furious gaze with his own for several long seconds. He kept it as he spoke. “Bandits, this mare is willing to fight fer yer right to speak in yer defense. What do ye have to say?”

Once more, silence filled the room. Rarity could hear the prisoners fidgeting in their restraints, but didn’t dare look away from the Duke.

A tentative stallion dared to speak. “I d-don’t want t-t’ die, my Lord.”

“Ye should’ve thought on that before ye forfeited yer life to me,” Titus said, never looking away from Rarity. “Are ye happy now, Countess? This isn’t a surprise to anybody but ye. They will regain their honor, facing their judgment with dignity.”

“No, I’m not happy!” Rarity rounded on the prisoners, facing each one in turn. “None of you have an excuse? Not one of you had a reason for your actions beyond greed or malice?” They all avoided her gaze as she turned to them.

Pontius took a tentative step forwards from the back of the room. “Father, forgive her. She’s not familiar with our ways.”

“Quiet, lad!” Titus snapped. “Don’t tell me ye believe the prattle about her being from old Equestria! Neither she nor her hoofmaiden have any right to meddle in our affairs, and ye’re clearly still too naive to rule our land!”

Pontius grimaced, looking away. Rarity took a deep breath before facing Titus again. “It doesn’t matter if they won’t speak. I won’t let you murder them!”

“And I’m with her!” Pinkie added, stepping close enough for Rarity to feel their legs brush together. “It doesn’t matter what for. Killing is no good!”

Celestia bless you, Pinkie, Rarity thought, fighting to keep herself from shaking. I don’t know if I could stand to face this barbarism alone.

Pole cleared his throat, stretching his wings. “My Lord?”

Titus raised a wing towards the soldier, signaling for him to stay back. “Ye stand firm on this, Countess?”

“I do,” Rarity said.

“Would ye give yer life to save these fools?” he asked.

Rarity’s mouth was dry. She swallowed before answering. “I would not abandon them to you.”

Titus gave a slow nod. “Are ye confident that ye can escape with them, then? They would turn on ye the instant they felt safe. Lawbreakers cannot be reasoned with.”

“That’s a risk I’ll have to take, darling,” Rarity said. “A lady does not stand idly by.”

Titus chuckled, sending a flare of anger up Rarity’s breast. He turned away, letting her glare at his back as he stepped back towards his throne. “I will spare them, on one condition.”

Rarity grimaced. “And that would be?”

“Yer hoof,” he said, facing her once more. “Yer hoof in marriage, to my boy.”

“Father!”

“Did I not tell ye to be quiet, lad?” Titus barked. “Ye will learn how to rule, but until then, ye will do as I say!”

The rage had slipped away from Rarity, lost amidst a fresh insurgence of shock. She exchanged a quick glance with Pinkie, seeing her own confusion reflected back at her. “I b-beg your pardon?”

“Marriage, Countess,” Titus repeated. A smirk worked its way onto his face. “Ye should be thankful for the chance. I have searched long fer a noble mare worthy of my line, and yer foals would inherit my title.”

Rarity blinked. Her jaw hung limp. Old fantasies of marrying a prince battled with waves of anger, confusion, and revulsion.

“Where has yer fire gone, eh?” Titus prodded. “Ye would fight fer yer beliefs, risk yer life fer them, but a betrothal to my dear boy has ye frozen in fear?”

Again Rarity turned to Pinkie, but the other mare’s only response was a wide-eyed shrug. What do I do? Perhaps she could stall for time. “I—you’d spare them?”

Titus nodded. “Aye, exile in place of death. Altalusia is a big land. I’m sure they could find villages willing to take ’em. Assuming they decide to change their ways.”

Rarity could feel her heart pounding against her chest. She had been ready to fight, to stand firm in defense of the helpless and give her all, but this? This wasn’t how marriage happened. She wanted love. She wanted a thrilling courtship from a noble gentlecolt, to gush about him to Fluttershy and plan the wedding with Pinkie, to hold a magnificent ceremony in Canterlot with all of her dear friends at her side.

But she had no choice, did she? It wouldn’t kill her to betroth herself to Pontius, but she would never be able to live with herself if she let these five ponies die over such a frivolous thing. A lady doesn’t live in a fairytale.

Titus snorted. “Lost yer fire, eh? I’m not surprised.” He lifted a wing, gesturing towards Pole. The soldier nodded and stepped forwards.

“No!” Rarity shouted. “Don’t touch them! I—I’ll do it.”

“Rarity!” Pinkie gasped.

“You’re a brute, Titus,” Rarity said, glowering up at him. “Despicable. But I won’t let you kill these ponies.”

Titus blinked, cocking his head. After a few seconds, he spoke. “Ye surprise me, Countess. Why are ye willing to do so much for these scum?”

“Because they deserve it, scum or not.” Rarity took a deep breath. She sat down against Pinkie’s side as her legs went weak. I’m really doing this. “If that’s what I have to give to save their lives—” She paused, holding back a sniffle. “I’ll do it.”

“Hrm.” Titus looked her over, narrowing his eyes. “Ye’re as much a fool as they are, but ye have my respect, Lady Rarity.” He turned back to Pole. “Take ’em to the dungeon, then.”

“Dungeon?” Rarity echoed. She made to struggle to her hooves, but they wouldn’t support her. “You said you’d let them go!”

“Aye, fer yer hoof in marriage.” Titus nodded. “Unless ye intend to hold the ceremony this evening, I expect that’ll take some time to arrange. As much as it pains me to waste good food on this lot, I won’t be letting ’em free until yer part in the bargain is carried out.”

“So they’re hostages, to make sure I don’t step out of line?” Rarity asked, not bothering to hide her disdain.

Titus shrugged. “The deal’s been struck, Countess, but I’m not paying my part until ye do.”

Rarity let out a shaky sigh. She just didn’t have the energy to argue with him anymore. Now that the decision had been made, she just wanted to curl up in a bed and cry.

Oh, who am I kidding? I could barely walk to my room right now. Rarity watched in silence as Pole grabbed the lead rope all the prisoners were tied to, tugged them to their hooves, and pulled them out into the hall. The mare who had recited her own crimes looked back at Rarity with wide eyes as she shuffled along, and Rarity mustered up the energy for an exhausted smile.

Titus angled around her on his way out. He paused in the doorway to turn to his son. “See to yer betrothed, lad,” he said, and then he stepped out of sight.

“Aye, father.” Pontius looked after the Duke for several seconds before turning to Rarity and Pinkie. He took a deep breath as he approached. “Are ye well, my Lady?”

“I just need a moment to catch my breath, dears,” Rarity said. She leaned fully into Pinkie’s embrace. “Heavens, I shouldn’t be stressing myself like this so soon after that escapade in the woods!”

“You just relax for now, Rarity,” Pinkie said, giving her friend a tight hug. “I never knew you could be so scarifying!”

“Me either, darling.” Rarity looked up and gave Pinkie a wan smile. “I’m quite grateful for your support. I don’t know if I could have stood up to him on my own.”

Pontius reached out with a hoof, laying it lightly on Rarity’s own. “Shall I—do ye need anything, my Lady?”

Rarity looked over to him. She couldn’t help but giggle at the grimace on his face. The poor dear doesn’t know what to do with himself, does he? “Perhaps you could kindly help me to my room, dear sir?”

“Of course, my Lady.”

Rarity offered him a foreleg, and he grabbed it with one of his own before helping her to her hooves. Pinkie stayed close on the opposite side, but Pontius bore the brunt of her weight as the trio started out of the room and down the hall.

“Is it true what you say, Countess?” Pontius asked, his voice low. “You’re nobility from Old Equestria?”

“As true as cake!” Pinkie said. “And your father’s the meaniest pony I’ve ever met!”

A deep sigh escaped Rarity, but she said nothing. Being a countess perhaps wasn’t as grand as the books made it out to be. She almost yearned for the simple days of making tents and blankets. Wake up, work, see the gracious smiles, and then sleep reassured that she had done good. But that would never really solve the problem, would it? No, I have to focus on the root of it all, even if it isn’t easy.

“What were they like back then?” Pontius asked.

An image of Prince Blueblood drifted through Rarity’s mind. She could almost hear his incessant whining, even with a thousand years and an apocalypse separating them. She shook her head, calling on better memories. Fancypants was certainly a gem, at least.

The truth was that Rarity didn’t have much good to say about the nobility of old. Those she had actually met had been, by and large, petty and self-obsessed. She had heard many tales about the violent feuds for power that went on behind the pomp and pageantry, even if she herself had never dealt with more than snide remarks or social jostling. In reality, she couldn’t even say for sure that a country duke would have hesitated to execute those who disobeyed him if he didn’t have Celestia looking over his shoulder. Her books were just books. Fantasy.

But Rarity could make them more than fantasy. She had been granted the exclusive right to share the story of the old nobility, and not even her friends had the knowledge to truly challenge her. She could already imagine Applejack’s quiet disapproval, but how could she just let this opportunity slip past? Telling the truth would only validate the unique brand of barbarism she’d faced in Altalusia, and that she expected existed in every other baronland. But telling a fantasy might make a difference. She could give them her fantasy. She could give them her history.

Rarity looked up to the cloudscape painted on the ceiling as she resolved to begin her lie. “They were noble,” she began. “Chivalrous and kind. They lived as servants to their ponies, and their ponies granted them love and adoration in return. They threw grand galas and invited all who could make the journey to partake. The ponies under their rule worked hard, and the fields overflowed with crop every season.” She closed her eyes, giving her best wistful sigh. “They were lords of paradise.”

She peeked an eye open to see Pontius watching her with wide eyes. “But what about the wars? Father always speaks of great pegasus warriors from the past.”

A frown marred Rarity’s face. She considered the question as they passed through the dining hall, empty for the first time that she had seen. She imagined that the empty armors lining the walls were watching her. “It is true that there were some conflicts,” Rarity started. “But they always had the good of their ponies in mind above all. They fought only for righteous causes, and never for greed or jealousy.”

“I see.” Pontius pursed his lips, looking away, and settled into a ponderous silence.

It wasn’t long after that they reached their rooms. Rarity pushed herself off of Pontius as they stopped in front of her door. She was still struggling to come to terms with the bargain she had just made, but her body didn’t feel quite so cold and numb anymore.

“Is there anything else I can do, my Lady?” he asked. He was standing much stiffer than he usually did.

Rarity gave a gracious dip of her head. He may need some further refinement, but perhaps he’ll take the new ideal to heart. “Thank you, darling, but I think I’ll be fine for now.”

Pontius nodded. “Please don’t hesitate to send fer me, if ye require.” He took a few steps back, dipped into a quick bow, and then turned around.

Rarity’s jaw worked side to side as she watched him go. “Pinkie, would you be a dear and find Whitehorn for me? I’d quite like to see him.”

“Oh, uh, oki-doki-loki!” Pinkie chirped. “You don’t wanna come with me?”

“I’m sorry, darling. I think I need to lie down for a moment.” Rarity gave her friend an affectionate nuzzle before forcing herself away from Pinkie’s warmth. She opened her door and stepped inside. “I do hope you understand.”

Pinkie’s lips curled into a quiet little smile. “I understand, Rarity.”

“Thank you, Pinkie. You’re just a gem.”

Rarity lifted a hoof to the door. It closed with a clean click. As one door shut, another opened.

She collapsed onto the lush sheets of the bed, her breaths coming fast and shallow. What had she just agreed to? Marriage? To be stuck in the cruelest, most primitive part of the brutish future for the rest of her life?

Tears clogged her vision. She rolled over and sobbed into her pillow. She had thought she’d come to terms with her decision, but that had been with ponies around to watch. Now she was alone, and the mask came off. She wasn’t Countess Rarity anymore, Last Lady of Equestria. She was a scared filly with nothing but her own decisions to keep her company. And they haunted her.

Rarity clutched the pillow as tight as she could. No matter how hard she cried, nobody was coming to save her.

Gava leaned closer against the trunk of the tree, seeking shelter from the light rain. She picked at the branch she perched on with a talon. A breeze played with her feathers as it stirred the surrounding leaves.

Her eagle eyes played over the woods around her, sometimes darting up or down to check the sky or ground. Gava loved her sister, but she hated being snuck up on. As she waited in the copse of trees that Ana’s trail had led to, she brooded over the approaching future. Ana would see her from afar. She would close the distance with her strange, silent thestral glide. And she would whisper something snarky into Gava’s ear.

What if she doesn’t show up?

Gava almost snarled out loud at the traitorous thought. Of course Ana would show up. No matter how tough any of these Gifted were, Ana would never attack unless she was certain of her victory. And unlike Gava, Ana was a far better judge of such things.

Still, the thought nagged at her. She lifted a talon to the comforting weight of the revolver strapped to her chest. Her father’s revolver. She’d cast fresh bullets for it in the past few days. Confidence. You’re nothing without your pride.

Gava snapped her head around at the sound of a twig breaking. No, too obvious. Ana never broke a twig except for as a distraction. Even now she was probably—

“Hey, sis.”

Gava jumped. Damn it! She turned to face the thestral perched on the branch adjacent to hers with an awkward twist. She frowned, taken aback by both the lack of whispered snarkiness and the sight before her. “Why are you wearing a dress, Ana?”

“Yeah, I missed you, too.” Ana grinned as she joined Gava on her branch. “So, tell me all about it. Did you find a place to pawn those Gifted off, yet?”

Gava clacked her beak, turning away. “I lost them.”

“Uh, what?”

Gava’s feathers fluffed up with irritation. She forced the words out one more time. “I said, I lost them.”

“Wow,” Ana said. A hoof jabbed Gava’s wing. “So what’s the story?”

Gava’s talons dug into the bark of the branch as her grip tightened. She turned to fix Ana with the most fearsome glare she could muster.

Ana stuck her tongue out. “C’mon, sis. I already know you’re a big bad bird, alright?” She shuffled closer to Gava, lending her warmth against the damp breeze. “Let me guess: you pounced the first chance you saw, and they surprised you.”

Gava sighed, leaning back into her sister. With just the two of them, there was no need to worry about reputation, and Gava was more willing to relax her pride. “Yeah, I could’ve used one of your usual warnings. Those Gifted are...” She looked up, recalling the power of the purple witch. “Thrilling.”

“Is the Screech alright?” Ana asked.

Gava nodded. “She took some heavy damage, but I was able to get back to port and make repairs. One of their unicorns—Twilight, they called her—nearly crushed the ship all on her own.”

“Wow. That’s—” Ana grimaced. “You’ll have to tell me about that. Good thing you decided to come rejoin me, too,” she added. “I don’t think Dad would be very happy if we lost his ship.”

“Another thing, sis,” Gava said, turning to eye the thestral beside her. “They had an alicorn with them. She had a dark coat.”

Ana stiffened against her side. A shiver ran through her body, and Gava suspected it wasn’t because of the wind or wet. “L-Luna?” She looked up, meeting Gava’s gaze. “With them as in—like, alive?”

“Not sure,” Gava said. “I just caught a glimpse, and she wasn’t conscious. But if she is, just imagine! Being the first to welcome her back to the world?”

“Y-yeah.” Ana’s eyes drifted off to the side. “Imagine…”

The two lapsed into a comfortable silence. Gava took the opportunity to examine the elaborate dress her sister wore. It looks almost like it was made for her to wear it. “So what’s up with the dress?”

“Huh?” Ana blinked, her eyes refocusing.

“You never told me why you were wearing that dress,” Gava pressed. “So?”

“Oh. Right.” Ana raised a hoof to her neck, toying with the polished gem that rested there. “I was speaking with a noble. Appearances matter with their kind, y’know.”

“Okay,” Gava began. “But why this dress?”

Ana frowned. She shifted her weight from one side to the other. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing,” Gava said, and within a second added, “It looks too good. So either you got really lucky, or you suddenly care enough about looks to find somebody with the perfect dress for you to filch. So what’s up?”

“And I’m not allowed to get lucky?” Ana asked. She looked away, her tail flicking. “When did you start judging the clothes I steal, anyways? Do you want to hear about the deal I struck or what?”

Gava cocked her head. She’s hiding something from me. The wicked curve of her beak twisted into a teasing smirk. “What’s with the dress, Ana?”

Ana’s ears twitched. “So you don’t care about the deal?”

Gava bumped her sister with a wing. “I want to know about the dress.”

“I met with a local duchess,” Ana said. She glanced back towards Gava. “Remember that noble whose roof you left the fox carcass on?”

Gava snorted, deciding to drop the issue of the dress. For now. “She was annoying.”

“I spoke to her about joining us in an assault against the estate of the noble who’s sheltering Countess Rarity and Pinkie Pie,” Ana said. The tree branch swayed beneath them as the wind picked up for a few seconds. “We should be able to sweep in and take them while the garrison is occupied.”

“What’d you have to promise her for that?” Gava asked. “Or was she just impressed by your get-up?”

Ana let out an exaggerated sigh. Her hooves moved up to fumble with just one of several tiny buttons that held it in place. “Don’t worry, the Gifted will be ours. Help me get out of this thing.”

Gava raised a talon. “Hold still, I’ll cut you out.”

“Hey!” Ana dropped off the branch, snapping her wings open and twisting mid-air before settling into a hover just out of Gava’s reach. “Don’t damage it! I might need to use it again.”

Gava arched a brow.

“What?” Ana grunted as she struggled to get a hoof out of the sleeve. “Look, do you want to start doing the talking from now on? Cause if not, just trust me when I say that I need this dress.”

“Whatever.” Gava reached into the satchel at her side and pulled out a small package wrapped in thin leather. “You hungry?”

Ana’s eyes lit up at the sight of the parcel. She used her wings to stabilize herself as she removed a second leg from the dress. “Never thought I’d feel my mouth water at the smell of chicken, but I guess we’ve been apart awhile, huh? Let me just pack this thing up, first.”

Gava shrugged, unwrapping the cooked meat and grabbing a chunk for herself. “Caught this just today, you know. Oh, well. More for me.”

Over a minute had passed by the time Ana finished crawling out of the dress, rolling it up tight, securing it with twine and stowing it in her satchel. Gava ate at a leisurely pace while she waited, picking out the smaller, bonier pieces for herself. She knew that Ana probably hadn’t spared any time on hunting during their separation.

Ana let out a sigh as she settled back onto the branch at Gava’s side. “Alright, give it over.” She grinned as the griffon surrendered the rest of the meal.

A little smile tugged at Gava’s beak as she watched her little sister dig in. “How long before we make our move?”

“All six Gifted will be reuniting on this island within a few days.” Ana paused to spit out a bone before swallowing. “I’ll be watching the docks. We’ll wait for them to get together, then take them out all at once.”

“How can you be sure?” Gava asked.

“Trust me on this.” Ana winked. “Pinkie Pie is throwing a party, and she says it’ll be a doozy.”

“Uh huh.”

“Until then, we plan and we prepare,” Ana said. “I’ll need you to tell me everything you remember from our time apart. We’ll have to be careful.”

“Right.” Gava nodded. She looked up to the sky, listening to the sound of the rain bouncing off the forest leaves. “We’ll be ready, this time.”

The gears inside the cargo hold groaned in Twilight’s ears as the rear opened up. Sparing one last glance to her flank to make sure the drab uniform she wore covered her cutie mark, Twilight led her friends out onto the pier. Soft raindrops bounced off the wood, filling the air with the smell of rain.

“So this is Altalusia, huh?” Rainbow asked. “Seems kinda small.”

Applejack arched a brow at that. “Seems kinda big by my reckonin’.”

“Well, um, I like it,” Fluttershy said.

Altalusia was a stark contrast to Heighton. Whereas the latter had filled every conceivable space and then some with its urban sprawl, here it was possible to see actual countryside. Even here on the coast, where Twilight assumed ponies would concentrate, the surrounding settlement could be described as ‘humble.’ Perhaps it was just because she was comparing it to the packed layers of Heighton.

Twilight looked back as Flint stepped out onto the pier. He drew in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and nodded. “Been a bit too long since I had that baronland smell in me.”

“You don’t visit them often?” Twilight asked.

He shook his head. “Not much t’ dive fer, not much t’ pay fer, and too many little lords lookin’ t’ move up.” He shrugged. “Feels like home, though. C’mon.”

He led the way down the pier, Twilight and her friends falling in behind him. “What about the others?” She asked, glancing back.

“We’ll keep t’ th’ port fer now,” Flint said. “Look around, see if we can find some hints as t’ where yer friends are. Keep yer eyes down, ’n look out fer anyone watchin’ ye too close.” They reached the base of the pier, and his eyes scanned the thin crowd walking on the cobbles that ran along the coast. “Once we got a lead, then we’ll all head out together.”

Applejack nodded. “I reckon that’s a solid plan.”

“Alright, let’s split up,” Rainbow said. “It’ll be way faster!”

Fluttershy took a step closer to the other pegasus. “Um, I’d rather stay together, if that’s okay with you girls.”

“I agree, Fluttershy,” Twilight said. Her eyes swept along the street, taking in the warehouses and taverns facing the dock. “We don’t want to be caught out alone.”

She picked out a pair of ponies watching them intently, a pegasus and a unicorn. Both wore orange cloaks over iron breastplates, and Twilight stiffened as she saw the barrel of a gun poking out from under the pegasus mare’s wing. The unicorn stallion dipped his head as he saw her looking back at him, and both ponies started making their way through the crowd towards her.

“Flint,” Twilight said, still watching them. “Do you recognize those two?”

“Eh?” Flint let out a thoughtful grunt. “Nay, I don’t. What I can tell ye is that they’re some lord’s soldiers, from th’ dress.”

“Soldiers?” Fluttershy echoed. “Oh, my.”

“Bah, don’t ye worry,” Flint said. “A couple goons wouldn’t be trouble fer us, even if they tried anythin’.”

“Hail!” the lead unicorn called, closing the distance. “Yer friends sent us!”

“Prove it!” Rainbow shot back.

The unicorn let out a groan. He glanced back to his comrade, who shrugged in response. “Are ye really gonna make me?”

“Aye, we’ll make ye,” Flint growled, stepping forwards. “Make it quick.”

“Fine.” The unicorn grumbled something to himself before lifting a hoof. “Cross my heart, hope t’ fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”

Flint blinked. “Eh, what?”

Twilight gasped. “Pinkie Pie sent you!” Behind her, her friends each let out exclamations of relief and elation.

“Right,” the pegasus mare said.

“Ye can call me Onyx,” the unicorn said. He gestured towards his pegasus comrade, and Twilight caught a glimpse of the bandages wrapped around his barrel beneath his cloak. “This is Ivory.”

Applejack trotted up to Onyx and gave him a friendly slap on the back, drawing a sharp grunt from him. “Well, any friend of Pinkie’s is a friend of mine! I’m guessin’ y’all’re here to take us to her?”

Ivory snorted. “Friend?”

“Aye,” Onyx groaned. “Ye got a strong hoof, mare. Is it just th’ five of ye?” He looked between each of them. “She had me expectin’ a bit more.”

Twilight exchanged a glance with Flint. “We aren’t ready to leave just yet,” she said. “Just give us a little time, and then we’ll head out with you.”

“Sounds fair t’ me,” Onyx said. He looked around before pointing towards a nearby tavern. A picture of a cartoon seapony adorned its sign, musical notes floating out of its wide smile. “We’ll wait fer ye in there. C’mon then, Ivy.”

“We won’t be too long,” Twilight said. She watched them go for a few moments, her gaze lingering on the tavern’s sign. Singing Seapony? How grotesque.

“Well, that was easy,” Rainbow quipped.

Twilight nodded. “Let’s head back and tell the others.”

Together, the five of them retraced their steps back up the pier towards the Argo. Twilight paused halfway down, struck with a sudden chill. She looked back, scanning the city once more. A sturdy stone keep dominated the city’s outline. As she watched, a winged silhouette dropped off the tallest tower, snapped its wings open, and glided down out of sight.

“Twilight?” Fluttershy asked.

Twilight shook herself. “Sorry, girls. Just being jumpy.” Not everyone in the world is out to get you, Twilight. Don’t get paranoid, now.

She followed her friends back into the cargo hold with fresh hope in her chest. She’d been stretched thin by the past few days, and was looking forward to getting some time to unwind at a nice, relaxing Pinkie Pie party.

Author's Note

Is Rarity fated to live the rest of her life as a lord's political wife? Will Ana reveal the nature of her new dress to Gava? And who will come out on top in the climactic clash that's swiftly approaching? Prepare yourself for the next riveting installment of Empty Horizons!

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XXI: The Reunion

Rarity groaned as she blinked her eyes open. She rolled onto her back, pushing her frazzled mane out of her eyes with a hoof, and squinted up at the painted sky above her. A surge of anger overtook her, and her horn glowed as she threw her pillow at the ceiling. Dumb clouds!

The pillow fell back onto her face a second later. “Oof!”

She lay there for several seconds, letting the peaceful darkness take her over. There was a knock at the door, and she ignored it.

“Lady Rarity?” Whitehorn called. He knocked again.

With immense effort, Rarity mustered the will to pull the pillow off her face. The black smears of her mascara had been stained into the satin. “Go away!”

A beat of silence passed. “You asked to see me shortly after you returned yesterday, my Lady, and you sent me away then, as well. Do you need more time?”

Rarity pouted up at the ceiling. I don’t remember sending him away. She rolled over, jerking a window curtain aside with her magic. The light of the rising sun was just peeking over a rocky hill in the distance.

“Countess?”

Rarity sighed. She must have cried herself to sleep last night, sending Whitehorn away right after she had summoned him like some petulant filly. That is not the behavior of a proper lady, Rarity, she chided herself as she clambered off the bed. “Just a moment, darling.”

Making her way into the bathroom, Rarity braced herself before turning on the light. She just managed to pinch off the shriek that tried to work its way out of her mouth. Black tears had been stained into her coat, and her mane looked as if she had spent all night bobbing for the deepest apples in the cider vat at one of Applejack’s atrocious hoedowns.

A shiver wracked her body. How could she have ever allowed herself to reach such a state? She turned on the faucet and splashed a few hooves full of cold water onto her face, scrubbing the black tears away. She grit her teeth as she tugged her unruly mane into place with a levitated brush.

Rarity curled her lip at the mare in the mirror. Her cheeks were clear of the black blemishes and her mane had returned to its usual curl, but the cracks in the mask were obvious. The stray hairs, bags under her eyes, and matted coat were clear signs of distress. She lacked the demeanor of a lady.

Rarity closed her eyes, gathering her poise. She must always be a lady. She must be Countess Rarity, the Last Lady of Equestria.

She opened her eyes, and there she was. Her posture straight and balanced, her gaze still tired, yet focused. It was impossible to hide her stress, but she could bear it with elegance. At least, she could outside the privacy of her room. She spent a few seconds practicing her smile before going to answer the door.

“Apologies for sending you away earlier, dear,” she said as she pulled the door open. She gave Whitehorn a weary smile. “Especially after asking for you.”

“Apology accepted, my Lady.” His mouth hung open for a second, as if he was thinking over his next words. “I heard the news.”

“Oh, ah, did you now?” Rarity grimaced at the way her voice cracked.

Whitehorn lifted a hoof as if to step forwards. He was wearing only a simple gray vest. “May I come in?”

Rarity quirked a lip as she debated with herself. There was still a part of her that wanted to shut the door in his face and wallow in blanket-smothered isolation. At last she forced herself to step back. “What have you heard?”

He dipped his head as he entered, keeping his eyes well clear of the mess of sheets on the bed. “Pinkie told me what happened. Titus, as well. Do you need my help, my Lady? I have many friends in high places, and I’m sure I could get the Duke to drop the betrothal.”

Rarity’s heart rate quickened. Here was her chance. Maybe she could slip free of the Duke’s trap. “What about the bandits?”

Whitehorn cocked his head. “I imagine he would execute them as he originally planned. If anything, he would do it out of spite at that point.”

“No!” Rarity snapped. She shook her head vehemently. “I won’t be responsible for the deaths of five ponies.”

“My Lady, they would have turned you in for bounty,” Whitehorn said. “Why are you going to such lengths to protect them? They don’t deserve it.”

“It—it’s the principle of the thing, darling!” Rarity pursed her lips, looking him in the eye. “There was no death sentence in my time, you know? Not even for the most hideous of monsters. The Princesses didn’t believe that anypony could be beyond redemption.”

“A noble ideal, but we must face reality,” Whitehorn said. “Are you really ready to give your life to Titus just to save five ponies that were ready to kill in order to capture you?”

“I have to be, don’t you see?” Rarity stepped closer, lowering her voice. “I want this the least of anyone, but what other choice do I have? If I turn that brute down, those five ponies will die for my decision. How could I ever say that I believe every life deserves to be lived, and every offender deserves a second chance, after I fail to give my all in upholding those ideas?” Her vision blurred, and she looked away before wiping the tears with a hoof. “Thank you for the offer, Whitehorn, but I can’t accept it.”

She heard him let out a heavy sigh behind her. “There’s nothing anyone could do to change your mind on this, is there?”

Rarity’s voice was firm for the first time that day. “No.”

She felt him lay a hoof on her shoulder, and she found herself leaning into it. The soft fabric of his vest was warm against her cheek. “In that case, my Lady, I must thank you,” he said.

She frowned. “What for?”

“Titus didn’t tell me about your deal just to brag,” Whitehorn said. “Well, he did do more than his share of bragging. But he also agreed to support me in Parliament.”

Rarity blinked. She realized how close she was to Whitehorn and pulled herself back. “But what of all his talk earlier about doing what he wants on his own land?”

“I believe he hopes to ensure he has a position of power within the new system,” Whitehorn said. “Further, as his daughter-in-law, your interests become his. Any influence you gain in the future makes him and his line more powerful by extension.”

“I see.” Rarity frowned. “So we’ve managed to accomplish what we came for?”

Whitehorn dipped down into a deep bow. “Indeed we have, my Lady, and it’s thanks to your bravery and generosity that we’ve done it. The Gifted Table is closer to becoming reality than it’s been in over a decade of attempting on my part.”

Rarity’s mouth hung open. Just like that? Whitehorn had been trying to change the world for years, and within a week of joining him Rarity had already made a breakthrough. She truly was making a difference. A great weight seemed to leave her shoulders as she realized that her sacrifice had much further-reaching consequences than she had first imagined, and for the better. With the fog of stress lifted from her mind, she realized that she was standing and gaping like an uncouth child, and promptly shut her jaw a scant moment before Whitehorn looked back up at her.

“I’m just glad I could make a difference,” she said.

“As am I, my Lady.” Whitehorn gave her a warm smile.

Rarity took a deep breath. “So what now?”

Whitehorn straightened back up, fixing the wrinkles in his vest with a hoof. “Now we, and I do hope I can say ‘we,’ must prepare to face Parliament.” He glanced towards the dawn sunlight streaming in through the window. “But I’d rather not burden you with yet more worries until you’ve had some well-earned rest. We can discuss it another time.”

“You aren’t leaving, are you?” Rarity took a step forwards, her voice hitching.

“Fortunately not, my Lady,” Whitehorn said, flashing her another of his smiles. “Titus is now our ally in the bettering of the world, though not due to any selflessness on his part. I have much to discuss with him. I expect that you and Pinkie won’t be seeing the last of me for some time now.”

“Ah.” Rarity forced herself to relax. “I look forward to it.”

“Now unless you require anything more of me, Countess?” Whitehorn dipped his head. “I’m afraid I have much business to attend to.”

“No, that’s all, darling.” As he turned to leave, a thought occurred to her. “Actually, there is something.”

He looked back. “Yes?”

“Do you know where the bandits are being held?” Rarity asked. “I’d like to speak to them.”

“In the dungeons, no doubt,” Whitehorn said. “Perhaps you’d like to accompany me to the dining hall? I’m sure we could find you an escort.”

Rarity grimaced, looking down at her disheveled coat. She was absolutely not in the proper condition to be walking around the estate. She looked back to him with a demure smile. “Perhaps you could ask Titus to send a guide while I freshen up?”

“Of course, my Lady. I’ll leave you to it.” With one more bow, Whitehorn backed out of the room and closed the door behind him.

By the next time that Rarity bothered to check the clock, almost two hours had passed. She had bathed with her own perfumed soaps she’d acquired in Straterra, thankful that she wasn’t forced to use the far more offensively scented bar that came with the room, and returned her mane to its immaculate sheen. After an excursion into her clothing stock, she’d donned a pale yellow dress with sunny orange sleeves. For the first time since waking up, she felt like herself again. Her stomach politely informed her of its desire for food, and she found herself wondering where Pinkie Pie was. And what about that guide I had asked for?

She opened the door to the hall, and found herself locking eyes with Pontius. Oh.

The young pegasus was leaning against the far wall, his usual polished barding replaced with a clean orange shirt. He stood up with a start and gave her a short bow. “Lady Rarity.”

“Pontius.” Rarity gave him a tight smile. “Were you waiting for me?”

“Aye, my Lady,” he said, looking up. “Ye wanted to speak to the bandits? I can escort ye to the dungeons.”

“Ah, of course.” Rarity hesitated, considering breakfast, but decided that it could wait. “Lead on, then.”

Pontius started down the hall at an easy pace, and Rarity followed a short distance behind. They retraced the familiar path to the dining hall first, where Whitehorn was in the midst of conversation with Duke Titus and a few other orange-garbed ponies, all of whom bore grave expressions and none of whom seemed to notice her polite greeting.

As they left the hall for the path to the other wing of the manor, Rarity once again found herself wondering where Pinkie Pie was. They passed the entrance hall, and it occurred to her that she hadn’t seen any servants either. Normally she would have spotted a cleaning mare by now at least. Perhaps she was imagining it, but the air of the manor seemed thick with some unspoken anticipation.

She cleared her throat, drawing Pontius’ attention. “Do you know where Pinkie is, darling?”

“She’s been quite busy directing the staff in the preparation of her party,” he said. “It’s to be held tonight, on the grounds.” His eyes flicked away as he continued. “My father was going to announce our betrothal.”

“O-oh.” Rarity cringed at the way her voice hitched. “So soon?”

He turned away, opening a solid wooden door that led to an upwards spiraling staircase and grabbing the lantern hanging on the other side in a wing. His voice was stiff. “He says that such things aren’t truly official until the peasantry hears of it.”

Rarity grimaced as she began to follow him up the steps. “I see.” The brute doesn’t want me going back on our deal. Does he really think I’d leave those poor souls to die? She couldn’t help but be offended.

Though a trio of slit windows on the bottom level allowed some light in, the stairwell was otherwise lit only by the dim light of Pontius’ lantern. Rarity found herself thankful that she hadn’t worn any shoes as they approached the top, perhaps three stories up by her guess. The steps were narrow in places, threatening a nasty fall at any misplaced hoof.

Pontius paused as he reached the iron-banded trapdoor at the top of the stairs. After several seconds, Rarity gave a polite cough. “Darling?”

“It’s my fault, Countess.”

Rarity blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

He wouldn’t look at her. He kept his gaze focused squarely on the trapdoor as he spoke. “Why this all happened. Why ye got pulled into the Duke’s affairs. It was my doing.”

Rarity frowned, glancing down at the steep stairwell descending into darkness. Not the most proper place for a dramatic confession. Did he believe that his little crush was what had pushed the Duke into action? She reached a hoof up to pat at one of his hind legs, the attempted comfort made awkward by the difference in altitude. “Now, dear, I’m sure it’s not—”

“It is!” He punched a foreleg against the curving stone wall, causing Rarity to jump. “He was going to send ye away like he always does. Whitehorn has pestered him fer years, and he’s always sent away!” Pontius turned to face her at last. The light of the lantern highlighted the hardness in his eyes, and for a moment Rarity imagined that it was Titus standing before her. “Until I told him about ye.”

Rarity’s pulse quickened. She thought back to what Whitehorn had told her just a day ago. “It’s unlike the Duke to have changed his mind so suddenly over an infatuation of his son.” She swallowed. “What do you mean?”

Pontius let out a dry laugh. “Don’t ye see? Ye’re Gifted, and so powerful! Ye defeated a half-dozen bandits in seconds, without even lifting a hoof!” He licked his lips and lowered his voice, leaning in as if he was worried of being overheard. “There are many powerful ponies in Equestria that would pay well to have ye delivered to them, Countess. My father doesn’t leave the land often, but I’ve seen bounties for ye in town.”

The pieces fell together in Rarity’s mind. “And you told him about them.”

He sighed. “Aye, I told him. And so he let ye stay. Because of me.”

“And the bandits?” Rarity asked. Her heart was pounding against her chest. “Is it all just some ploy?”

He gave a slow shake of his head. “They’re real. Ye were so set on saving them, and my father saw opportunity.” He lifted his forelegs and clapped the hooves together, as if catching a bug. “He had something ye wanted, and ye gave yerself willingly in exchange. Thousands of bits on yer head, and he could have ye fer a few worthless lives.”

The feeling of being trapped was returning to her. Titus had manipulated her into his clutches with barely an effort. She knew that he had trapped her, knew now exactly how he had done it, and yet she still couldn’t escape. The ponies held hostage on the other side of that heavy trapdoor were still relying on her. I wonder which of us is more the prisoner?

“Why are you telling me this?” Rarity asked. “Why just now? How could I trust you?”

Pontius scowled. “Ye shouldn’t trust me, anymore than ye should trust anyone ye meet.” He snorted as he turned back to the trapdoor. “As fer why I’m telling ye? We’re betrothed, Countess. I have a duty to ye.”

Rarity was still trying to decide how to respond when Pontius shoved himself against the trapdoor. He grunted as he bodied it open, drawing a shrill complaint from the hinges, and climbed out of the stairwell.

She followed behind him, body moving on autopilot as her mind struggled to process what had been revealed to her. Could she have really been so oblivious? Titus certainly acted the part of the proud, selfish brute, but was it all just a cover for something more conniving? Rarity stiffened as she came to the realization that she hadn’t been taking matters quite as seriously as she should have. All her fantasizing about being the brave heroine in some romantic fantasy, and yet she was being manipulated like some bumbling patsy! She’d fought bounty hunters not more than a week ago, and yet she was parading herself through the streets oblivious of the danger.

She had to stop the dreaming and focus on reality. She couldn’t trust just anypony that walked up to her and spoke of honesty. The future was a place of treachery, and who knew if this was the first time she had fallen for another’s ploy? What of Whitehorn? She had met him at a party and was blindly following him not even three days later. Perhaps—

Steady, Rarity. Whitehorn had been nothing but an honest, generous spirit. If he had wanted to trap her, he had had plenty of time to do so already. Rarity couldn’t help but cringe at the thought that the chief reason she knew she could trust him was because she had already put herself so freely in his hooves. Still, she mustn’t let a single act drive her into paranoia. A lady does not flinch back from glimpsed shadows.

Pulling herself back to the present, Rarity found herself in a squat, circular stone chamber. The trapdoor was set against one wall, while the far half of the chamber had been divided into three cells by thick iron bars. A tall, unobstructed window—large enough for a pony to step through, Rarity noted—was left open at the back of each cell.

The five bandits all shared a single cell, bereft of anything but a single bucket and some straw for comfort. Most kept their heads down, pointedly avoiding looking at the trapdoor. One of them met Rarity’s eye. A pegasus stallion, a leg and a wing both swaddled in stained bandages.

Long, silent seconds passed. Rarity turned to Pontius. “Would you mind giving us some privacy, darling?”

Pontius grimaced, but didn’t protest. “I’ll be waiting in the hall, my Lady.”

Rarity watched him go, her eyes lingering on the trapdoor as she listened to his hoofsteps receding below. She turned back to the cell and met the curious eyes of the bandit mare. Taking a few steps closer, cautious to stay out of reach, Rarity searched for something to say.

She nodded towards the large window at the rear of the cell. “I’ve never seen a prison cell with an unbarred window before.”

The stallion cocked a brow. His voice was like gravel when he responded. “Th’ good Duke believes we ought t’ have th’ right t’ fly if we’d prefer it t’ whatever fate may await us.”

Rarity blinked. Her eyes darted over to his injured wing, and for a moment she wondered how many ponies had taken up the Duke’s offer. How many ponies had opted for a fall in freedom over a hanging in chains? Had any survived?

“Do ye need anythin’, lass?” the stallion prodded. “If ye came t’ listen t’ us grovel in thanks, ye best settle in fer a long wait.”

“I’ve come for no such thing!” Rarity paused, adding in a quieter voice. “Though some gratitude would be appreciated.”

“What fer?”

Rarity’s brow furrowed. “Saving your life, I would imagine.”

The stallion shrugged. “I’m t’ be thankful that I live on th’ goodwill of some prissy Gifted noble filly?” He spat on the floor. “My freedom was th’ most valuable thing I had, and now I’ve lost it twice over. Once t’ th’ Duke’s law, once t’ yer self-righteous crusadin’. I don’t think fer a second that ye have any care fer me.”

“I gave up my hoof in marriage for you!” Rarity insisted. Her tail flicked side to side as she struggled to contain her ire.

The stallion shook his head. “Neh, you gave it fer yer own foal ideals. My lot just happened t’ be in th’ way. Ye don’t care fer me.”

Rarity stared open-mouthed at him. She glanced to each of the other prisoners in turn, but none met her eye. Some had their ears up as if they were listening, but none of them even faced her way.

Rarity closed her mouth, glaring up at the impudent stallion. “What’s your name?”

“What d’ye care?”

“What’s your name?” Rarity repeated. “I’m asking you. Is it some big secret?”

The stallion eyed her for a few seconds. A breeze whistled through the pony-sized windows, carrying the scent of rain with it. With a deliberate motion, he turned away from her.

“So that’s it, then?” Rarity pressed. She again cast her gaze to the other prisoners, failing to keep the frustration out of her rising voice. “Perhaps I made a mistake in defending you all? Even now, you can’t present a single excuse for your actions?!”

She realized that she was trembling, but she couldn’t stop herself. Titus had manipulated her so easily, and now it seemed that even the ponies she had sacrificed herself for were playing her as well. Was there no honesty left in the world? Was she truly so naive? Was she such a monumental failure?

Just as the tears began to break free, one of the other bandits finally met her eye. It was the earth mare that had spoken during the trial Duke Titus held, the one who had recited the laws she had broken and the punishment she deserved. Her mouth hung open almost as if she wanted to speak, but no sound came forth.

“Speak!” Rarity demanded.

The mare flinched back. “I—I’m sorry, my Lady! I never’d’ve meant fer a kind spirit like ye t’ get tangled up in our mess!”

Rarity closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. It wouldn’t be proper for her to lose her temper, even now. “What’s your name, darling?”

“River Pie, my Lady.”

“Thank you,” Rarity said. She couldn’t help but think about Pinkie Pie and her family. Had some member of the Pie Family survived to carry on her lineage? Opening her eyes, Rarity forced a kind smile onto her face. “My name is Rarity. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

River Pie responded with a nervous smile of her own. She shuffled closer to the bars, shying away from the sideways looks from her cell mates. “I appreciate what ye done, even if’n th’ others don’t care.”

“Well, it’s nice to know that at least one pony does,” Rarity said, shooting a glare towards the rude pegasus stallion. She returned her focus to the skittish mare. “Can you tell me why you did it?”

“Clamp shut, Pie,” the pegasus stallion growled.

“What’s it matter if’n I tell ‘er?” River Pie shot back, her tail flicking. “As if th’ Duke don’t already hate Nettlekiss?”

“Ack, fine.” The pegasus shook his head. “Yer loss.”

River looked back to Rarity. “Ye ever hear of Duchess Nettlekiss?”

Rarity frowned. Whitehorn had mentioned her. All she knew was that she was a rival of Duke Titus. “Once, in passing.”

“It’s ‘er that put us up t’ it,” River said. She hesitated as another of the bandits turned to eye her, then pressed on. “She gave us weapons ’n trainin’, ’n paid us well. All we had t’ do was rough up some of th’ Duke’s caravans, ‘n threaten bits from a few scared peasants.”

Rarity’s heart sank. Titus was right? “So you did it for greed.”

River Pie dropped into a low bow so suddenly that for a moment Rarity imagined that she had been struck. “I don’t deserve yer mercy, my Lady, but if ye still see fit t’ save me, I swear t’ ye that I’ll make it up.”

Rarity couldn’t help but take a step back from the dirty mare groveling beneath her. Who was she to have ponies bowing and swearing their unworthiness of her favor? River had plainly admitted to having no purpose behind her ill deeds beyond her own thirst for wealth, and Rarity imagined that she should have felt furious, yet she could only muster an aching sadness.

Worst of all, she still couldn’t bring herself to take it back. For even if every other bandit returned to their crimes once they were released, as long as just River Pie kept true to her word and did better, it was worth it.

Nobody is truly beyond redemption… right?

Rarity wondered if maybe River was just pretending to be remorseful. Perhaps the mare was just worried that Rarity would go back on the deal and she would be doomed to hang after all, and she was just acting the part to ensure her own survival. Rarity dismissed the thought an instant later. Deep paranoia lay down that path, and she decided she would rather keep some amount of earnest naivete in favor of living in a world where every word hid another meaning and every act served another purpose. Maybe it would ruin her to do so, but then wouldn’t she be ruined even moreso if she allowed the world to twist her into its treacherous mold?

“Thank you for your honesty,” Rarity said. She turned away, pulling open the heavy trapdoor with her magic. “I do hope you don’t squander my generosity.”

The door fell closed behind her with a heavy thud that echoed through the ghastly darkness of the stairwell. She pursed her lips as she followed the steps down, lost in her thoughts. As he had promised, Pontius was waiting in the hall, fidgeting with his shirt’s collar in the far less sinister lighting.

He dipped his head in greeting. “I hope all went well, my Lady.”

She responded with a wan smile. “It did, thank you.” Her stomach let out a polite growl, replacing her complex worries with a far simpler need. “Goodness, I do think it’s about time I had something to eat.”

“Allow me to escort you to the dining hall,” Pontius said, stepping up besides her. “Chef Marmalade can make you whatever you wish.”

Rarity arched a brow. “I do appreciate the notion, dear, but I do think I can find the way there on my own.”

Pontius blinked. He looked down to his hooves with a thin-lipped frown, brow furrowed with consternation. After a couple seconds Rarity realized that the young pegasus was probably just trying to treat her well now that they were betrothed. She resisted the urge to let out a sigh. I suppose I can humor him, for now.

She made a show of looking up and down the hall, making a few confused titters. “Actually, which way was it again? I may have gotten a bit turned around.”

He brightened up at that, the frown replaced with a content little smile. “If you’ll come with me, my Lady.”

Rarity allowed him to lead her through the halls. He was somewhat endearing in a way, earnest and eager to please. For the first time, she realized that Pontius really was just a boy. Even as he marched through the countryside in gleaming steel armor with a soldier on each side, hunting bandits in the woods and being called ‘my Lord’ by ponies twice or more his age, he couldn’t be more than twenty years old by her guess. He had turned out surprisingly polite compared to his father. Rarity regarded him with new eyes as she followed him through the foyer, and found herself wondering where his mother was.

It was at that moment that Rarity became aware of a distant, high-pitched keening. She stiffened, scanning her surroundings as alarm bells went off in her head. Pinkie Pie was out there somewhere, and she was tackle-huggingly excited about something.

Rarity’s suspicions were confirmed as a pink blur launched itself towards her from her periphery. She had just enough time to brace herself in the proper direction before being bodily slammed into and wrapped in her friend’s vice-like grip.

“Eeee!” Pinkie informed her. “They’re here! They’re here!”

Rarity struggled to catch her breath as she squirmed between Pinkie’s hooves. “Pinkie—too much!”

The iron grip released her, and Rarity managed to suck in a lungful of air. Pinkie Pie bounced in place beside her as she lowered her voice to a less piercing singsong. “They’re here, they’re here!”

“Who’s here?” Pontius asked.

“Our friends!” Pinkie chirped. She bounced over to the grand double doors that dominated the foyer, reared up onto her hind legs with a fanciful pirouette, and shoved them both open like a mare both totally oblivious to and unaffected by proper door-opening etiquette.

Twilight flinched as the heavy wooden doors of the mansion were flung open. She flinched again at the shrill “Eeeee!” that cut through the air, flattening her ears back against her head. She was still trying to identify it when she was tackled to the ground by something fuzzy and loud. Amidst the laughter and exclamations of her friends, Twilight looked up to see Pinkie Pie beaming down at her, her face framed by a mane that seemed almost to vibrate with poofiness.

“You got my invitations!”

Twilight coughed as she struggled to regain her breath. A choked laugh pushed its way out of her, only to be interrupted by a sob. “You’re okay!”

“We’re okay!” Pinkie agreed with a bouncy nod. She jumped off of Twilight and began to dart between Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Fluttershy, racing to greet them each in turn. “Oh, I missed you all so much, I can’t even begin to explain how excited I am! There’s so much to tell you about! Ghah! Dashie, what happened to your eye? AJ, why is your barrel all bandaged? Oh no, Fluttershy, why don’t you have any cuts or bruises? Have you been emotionally battered? Did you guys get into a fight? What did you find? Where—”

“Whoa, nelly!” Applejack said. She let out a familiar chuckle. “Slow down, filly. We’ve been apart a mite too long to get all caught up in one kick.”

“Oh, I know!” Pinkie tossed herself onto her back besides Twilight, stretching her hooves up to the cloudy sky. “There’s just so much to say!”

Twilight picked herself up off the ground, dusting herself off with a hoof. “Don’t worry, Pinkie. We all want to catch up as much as you do. Where’s Rarity?”

“Over here, darling!”

Twilight turned to see Rarity strutting down the marble steps of the manor with her usual measured gait, her yellow-and-orange dress swaying around her hooves with each step. Twilight broke out into a wide smile as she ran up to give her friend a hug. “Rarity!”

“We missed you, my sweet,” Rarity said, returning the hug with a coo of affection. “That goes for all of you,” she added.

Twilight let out a deep sigh of relief as she stepped out of the hug. “I’ve been so worried. There’s been these bounty hunters chasing us—and then we went to Fellis to make sure you were okay—and the whole island was gone!” She lowered her voice, pushing the next words out through clenched teeth. “I thought you two might have been—y’know.”

“Perish the thought!” Rarity giggled. “And pardon the wordplay. It would take more than an island falling out beneath us to stop two of the Elements of Harmony!” Her mirth faded, a distant look coming over her. Her voice grew somber as she met Twilight’s eyes again. “We have much to discuss.”

Twilight cocked her head, picking up on the serious tone. Had Rarity and Pinkie made some discoveries of their own while they were separated? She brushed a hoof over her saddlebags, feeling for the reassuring weight of her notebook and pen. She would need it even more than usual for the coming discussions.

Somepony cleared their throat behind Rarity, and Twilight leaned around her friend to see a young, dusty brown pegasus in a clean orange shirt standing behind her. “My Lady?” he asked.

Twilight looked to Rarity, arching a brow. The other unicorn started as if just remembering something. “Oh! Forgive me, dear,” she said, turning to the pegasus. “Pontius, this is Twilight Sparkle, one of my dear friends. Twilight, this is Pontius, my—erm—”

“Her betrothed,” Pontius finished. He dipped his head. “Glad t’ make yer acquaintance, Lady Sparkle.”

Twilight choked, her eyes bulging out as she found herself caught between a gasp and a cough. “B-betrothed?”

“Twilight, manners,” Rarity chided with a wan smile. “We really have missed a lot, haven’t we? Goodness, and I can only imagine what all you’ve been up to, considering those garish injuries on the others. How long has it been? It certainly doesn’t feel like weeks.”

“Betrothed?!” Twilight repeated.

Rarity sighed. She wrapped a leg around Twilight’s shoulders as she raised her voice to speak to the rest of their friends. “I don’t know about you all, but I think we should all head inside and settle down, hrm? We’ve got a lot of time to cover!”

Pinkie Pie blew a loud raspberry. “Inside? I didn’t plan no party inside!” She leveled a hoof on Onyx and Ivory, who had been waiting to the side with opposing degrees of irritation and bemusement. “Put out the call, ponies! It’s party time!”

It really was amazing what Pinkie Pie could pull together on short notice, Rarity reflected.

She was seated at just one of several round wooden tables spread across the grounds of Duke Titus’ manor. Lanterns and streamers hung from lines that criss-crossed above the yard, illuminating the space below like flickering stars trailing spirals of blue, green and yellow. Ponies chatted and joked in the faux starlight, swapping stories over slices of freshly-made cake and mugs filled from barrels of cider that waited patiently to be emptied. In one corner of the yard was a cleared space where a group of villagers pulled lively music from string and wind, filling the little corners between conversation with energy and cheer. The stone walls around the yard looked less imposing in this light, the once-threatening spearheads that lined the top hidden behind colorful banners.

Laughter was abound, and Rarity marveled at the upturned smiles of the very villagers that had seemed so dour when she’d seen them just a day before. It was a party a thousand years removed from the world Rarity had known, but it was unmistakably a Pinkie Pie party in all it’s uncouth charm.

Rarity’s smile faltered as her gaze came back to her friends seated around the table. Rainbow Dash was in the midst of recounting the thrilling tale of the dive into what was once the Everfree Forest. Her wings and hooves alike swept up and down, side to side as she described the way a fearsome monster had chased their little submarine through the wreckages of a hundred other ships. Pinkie Pie bounced along with every rise and fall in Rainbow’s voice while Applejack chipped in with the occasional good-natured addition and Fluttershy hid a quiet smile behind her mane. It was an image hauntingly familiar. If not for the black patch over Rainbow’s eye and the murderous monster in her story, Rarity could almost pretend that they were back in Ponyville. Almost.

Rarity stole a glance towards where Twilight sat next to her. The other unicorn was hunched over a notebook, scribbling away with a pen. A slice of cake waited untouched beside her.

“Quite a story, isn’t it, darling?”

Twilight blinked, looking up from her notes. “What? Oh. Uh, yeah, it’s—” She paused, grimacing. “It was something.”

Rarity frowned. “Are you alright? Can you see in this light? Why don’t you light your horn?”

Twilight shivered. “I can see fine, thank you.”

Rarity’s lips twisted into a concerned pout. She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Twilight, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Twilight said, far too quickly. She sighed. “Well, there’s lots of things wrong, but that’s been the standard for a while. I just don’t feel like listening to the story, okay?”

It was clear to Rarity that Twilight wasn’t telling her something. The bookish unicorn never “just” did anything. There was always a reason, and usually that reason was some question she was fixated on. Rarity didn’t say anything. She waited patiently.

It couldn’t have been ten seconds later that Twilight spoke again. “We found Princess Luna.”

“You what?!” Rarity shrieked. All heads at the table immediately snapped to her. She let out a tentative giggle. “Uh.”

“I know, right?” Rainbow grinned at her, waggling her eyebrows. “She used The Stare!”

Fluttershy let out a despondent sigh. “I didn’t have any other choice. He was just misbehaving so badly.”

Applejack snickered. “Just wait till y’all hear how the story ends. That’ll really send ya for a spin.”

“Oh, I can’t wait!” Pinkie said. “What happened next? What comes next? Tell me!”

“Cool it, Pinks, let a mare tell a story!” Rainbow said, her grin only growing wider. “Alright, so ‘Shy’s got this thing locked in The Stare, but we’re still stuck, and Trails…”

Rarity cleared her throat. She took a sip of her cider to give her body some time to catch up with her mind. She set the mug back down carefully before rounding on Twilight. “You found Princess Luna?” she hissed. “What—where is she?”

“She’s on the ship,” Twilight said. “Don’t worry, Star Trails and Sunfeather are there watching her, and I made sure to place some wards around the ship and the cargo bay just in case. Oh, and Dusty Tome’s there, too.”

“No, I mean, where is she, darling?” Rarity insisted. Her mind flicked back to that brief glimpse she caught of Princess Celestia during the collapse of Fellis. “Why is she hiding away in the ship?”

“She’s not well, Rarity,” Twilight said. “She’s in some kind of magical coma. Self-induced, by my current theory, though that’s unconfirmed. We have to keep her safe and hidden away until I can figure out how to bring her out of it.”

“Oh.” Rarity let out the breath she’d been holding. “Right. Of course. But you have an idea?”

Twilight shrugged, never taking her eyes off of her notes. “I have a theory. I haven’t really been able to focus on it much. We were attacked by a gryphon bounty hunter named Gava, and then we thought she might be going after you and Pinkie, and I was just so worried! And I’m working on something for Rainbow’s eye and—ugh, there’s so much!” Twilight closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m stretched so thin, Rarity. It feels like I’m going to snap.”

“You’re pushing yourself too hard, like you always do,” Rarity said. She put a hoof on Twilight’s back, ignoring the coarse fabric of the drab crew uniform she was wearing, and began moving it in a slow circle. “We’re safe, Twilight. We have time.” Her mouth hung open as she considered adding more. I saw Princess Celestia. Just four words, and they’d been trapped inside her for as many days. She had to tell her friends, but Twilight already looked to have reached her limit. What would she do if she learned that her mentor was still out there, in any form?

“We’re not safe!” Twilight hissed. “Gava is relentless. She tracked us from Heighton all the way to the Everfree, and who knows if she tracked us here, too? Or any other bounty hunters, for that matter.”

Rarity grimaced. “Well, Pinkie and I have had a few run-ins. But we’ve held our own!”

“See?!” Twilight’s eyes darted around the crowd, jumping from pony to pony. “It could be anyone. We can’t let our guards down.”

“Twilight, stop it!” Rarity chided. “Nobody’s going to jump out of the shadows. Not here, at the very least. Duke Titus is a very respected noble with a well-trained retinue of soldiers. And we’re not entirely helpless either.” She couldn’t help but steal a glance at Rainbow’s eyepatch. “We can defend ourselves if it comes to it.”

“Y-you’re right.” Twilight shook her head, looking back down to her notes. After a second, her gaze traveled to her untouched cake. “I do need to unwind. Pinkie put a lot of effort into this party.”

“It would certainly do you well,” Rarity agreed. She watched as Twilight grabbed the plate in her hooves and raised it to her mouth for a bite. She couldn’t help but cock her head at the lack of magic. Odd.

Her attention drifted back to the rest of the table just in time for a dramatic reveal from Rainbow Dash. “It was only like a minute, tops, but it might as well have been days!” she was saying. “We were just about to blast a path through when Flint spoke to us over the radio, and then Twilight like right after. And y’know what she told us?”

Pinkie looked about ready to explode out of her seat. “What did she tell you?!”

Rainbow Dash leaned over the table, lowering her voice. Pinkie Pie leaned in closer to hear. “We had found… Princess Luna.”

“What?!” Pinkie shrieked.

Rainbow looked to Rarity expectantly. Rarity blinked, realizing that she was supposed to be surprised, and managed to summon a flustered, “Oh, goodness.”

“Oh, goodness?” Rainbow echoed with disdain. “That’s it? Princess Luna, Rarity! Didn’t you hear me?”

“Don’t get y’all’s lasso in a knot, RD,” Applejack said. “She ain’t obliged to react a certain way to your story.”

“But—Princess Luna!” Rainbow repeated.

“Oh, you hush.”

“What happened next?” Pinkie asked. “Was she okay? Where is she?”

“Hold your horses, Pinkie,” Applejack said. “The story ain’t done with yet. There was a whole ‘nother rodeo waiting for them when they got back to the ship. Let me tell y’all my side of it.”

Twilight took another bite of her cake. She felt a little clumsy eating without her magic, but it was just as delicious as any Pinkie Pie cake had ever been, nonetheless. Rarity was right. She needed to enjoy the party.

She couldn’t help but smile as she listened to Applejack take her turn at storytelling, using just as much embellishment and flair as Rainbow had. They’re probably making some kind of contest out of it, knowing those two. I mean, really, three chains? She told it as if six ponies couldn’t hold her down working together.

Still, Twilight couldn’t deny that it was entertaining. She hadn’t heard the dramatic rendition of Applejack’s part in the fight before.

She was distracted by Rarity letting out a polite cough. Twilight looked to her expectantly.

“I… should tell you something, Twilight. But I don’t want you to overreact.”

Twilight arched a brow. She swallowed the cake in her mouth so that she could speak. “Well, I’ll do my best. What is it, Rarity?”

“I—” Rarity’s voice hitched. She closed her eyes and took another breath. Her words came out in a rush. “Twilight, I saw Princess Celestia.”

Twilight was glad that she wasn’t holding the plate in her magic. She was certain that any spell, even one as simple as levitation, would have fizzled out in that moment. Instead of dropping out of a magic aura with a loud clatter, her plate instead found itself lodged between hooves that felt made of stone. Twilight very deliberately lowered her hooves and wrenched them apart, allowing the plate to return to the table with a quiet tink.

There was a ringing in her ears. The table appeared to be spinning, but Twilight knew that it was just an illusion of her mental disorientation. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Where?”

“In Fellis, as it collapsed,” Rarity said. “It was just a couple glimpses as we left, but I’m certain of it. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. It was Princess Celestia, although she didn’t look well.”

“How do you mean?” Twilight asked. Celestia is alive. Of course she’s alive. She’s alive. She’s alive. I knew she was alive the whole time, didn’t I? I’m the faithful student.

“She looked sick. Her mane was patchy and her wings were drooping. And her eyes—”

“Red tears?” Twilight asked. Celestia wouldn’t leave me. It’s just like I thought. She’s out there, waiting to be found.

“I don’t know,” Rarity admitted. “It was just a brief glimpse. She just felt—cold.”

“Cold,” Twilight echoed. I can do this. We have Luna. Celestia is out there. I can save them both. Everything will be alright. Twilight saw the path clearly stretched before her. Wake up Luna. With her help, find and wake up Celestia. The Princesses would know what to do. They would know what had happened.

“Twilight dear, are you alright?”

Twilight opened her eyes. The table wasn’t spinning anymore. Her breathing was calm. “I’m just going to go for a walk real quick, Rarity. Thanks for telling me.”

She stood up abruptly. Applejack arched a brow. “Off to use the stall, sugar cube? Story’s just gettin’ good.”

“I’ll be right back, Applejack,” Twilight said. Her words sounded robotic in her own ears. “Don’t wait for me.”

She turned and walked away without waiting for a response. The crowd felt thicker. The spearheads lining the walls leered down at her from their stone thrones, hidden behind a thin dressing of ribbon. She needed to be on her own. She had to get out, just for a little. Celestia was alive.

She traced a path around the tables and to the open gate of the yard. Ivory and another guard that Twilight didn’t recognize waited on either side. The question in Ivory’s eyes was clear.

“I’m going for a walk,” Twilight said. “I’ll be right back, don’t worry.”

Ivory looked away. Twilight stepped through the gate and nobody stopped her.

She walked through the darkness without direction, eyes focused without seeing on the ground in front of her. The distant sound of music and laughter faded into the background along with the chirping of the crickets and the rustle of the wind running over the grass. Celestia was still alive. A light drizzle began to fall, and Twilight welcomed the feel of the cold droplets slapping against her back. There was a brief uproar from the party, and when it subsided it seemed that the villagers had taken the light rain as encouragement.

Celestia was out there. She was at Fellis as it collapsed. A pensive frown crawled over Twilight’s face. Philomena had been in the ruins of Fellis. Was she still following her old master? Had Twilight passed right over Celestia without noticing in her haste to confirm the fate of her friends? A wave of nausea passed over her. Celestia was alive. That was good. Stop fretting.

Celestia had been at Fellis when it collapsed. Correlation did not imply causation. Celestia was alive and she could be rescued. Once she had a spell theory for waking up Luna, it could be tested. Success could be refined and then applied to Celestia as well. Good.

“You lost, witch?”

Twilight was so deep in her thoughts that she nearly didn’t register the words. She looked up from her hooves for the first time and her blood ran cold. Gava was perched before her, on top of a boulder half-buried in the earth and silhouetted by the drizzling rain that sparkled in the moonlight.

Twilight stiffened, feeling her pulse quicken. Magic bubbled up inside her. It wanted to act, to remove the threat. She suppressed it. She couldn’t afford to lose control. “Gava.”

Gava grinned. “You remember my name. I’m flattered. What was yours again?”

Twilight was suddenly all too aware of how alone she was. She took some slow steps backwards. “What are you doing here?”

“Huh, weird name,” Gava said. She raised her forelegs, showing empty talons. “I’m just here to talk, alright? No need to get snappy.”

“You ate Rainbow’s eye.”

“That is true,” Gava said. She jumped down into the grass and began to advance, her steps slow and deliberate. “I did do that. On the other wing, you nearly wrecked my ship. I think you got the better end of that deal.”

“Nearly wasn’t near enough,” Twilight growled. She stole a quick glance behind her, but all she saw was the shadow of the Duke’s estate against the stars. Could she make a break for it? The griffon would surely catch her. She could risk a teleport, but what if she lost control? She looked back at the bounty hunter. “Why are you chasing us?”

“Y’know, that’s a good question.” Gava’s beak twisted into a dangerous grin. “I’ve had a lot of people ask me that. Friends, enemies, victims. At first it was money, of course. A Gifted like yourself, if subdued, would set me and my crew up for years.”

“My crew and I.”

Gava blinked. “What?”

“‘My crew and I’ is the proper way to say it,” Twilight said.

Gava sighed. “Whatever. It’s pretty clear to me that you’re not worth the trouble of capturing.”

“So then why are you here?” Twilight asked. She took another cautious step backwards. “Leave us alone if we’re not worth the trouble.”

“Not worth the trouble financially, no,” Gava said with a nod, matching each of Twilight’s steps with a longer one of her own. The distance between them grew shorter. “But y’know what you are? Dangerous. The most dangerous game. It’s not about the money anymore.”

Anger swelled in Twilight’s chest. “Stop right there!” She crouched down, allowing some magic to pool in her horn. She aimed the tip at Gava as if to cast a spell. “Don’t come any closer!”

Gava arched a brow, but complied. She sat back on her haunches.“Not a game,” she corrected, wagging a single talon. “A hunt. Very serious.” She fluffed her wings out, bringing a hand to her heart. “You’re my legacy and my dream, pony. You and your friends. I’ll be the only hunter in all of history who’ll be able to say that they caught the Purple Witch. And that’s a cause worth striving for.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Gava,” Twilight said. Her horn began to glow brighter. The darkness rolled over inside her, pushing her to fight. “You haven’t caught me yet.”

“No,” Gava agreed. She winked. “Not yet.”

A thrill of panic ran down Twilight’s spine. She sent a ping out around her, stiffening as she detected the figure crouched down behind her. There was a rustle of grass and she felt the wind of wingbeats on her flanks.

The shield spell was already in mind as she twisted around to face a pair of slitted amber eyes. Time slowed down as she saw the ring descending on her; glowing white runes were engraved into the iron.

Let the magic go, little flower.

Twilight felt The Other curled up inside her, coiled like a spring and eager to pounce. She hesitated.

The heavy iron ring slipped over the tip of her horn.

She cried out and fell backwards. No lavender shield sprang into being as she landed in the damp grass. The ring settled on the base of her horn, glowing a pale white as it held her magic back.

The thestral flashed a set of fanged teeth at her. “Gotcha.”

Twilight grit her teeth. She screamed her fury as she poured more magic into her horn. The Other’s voice echoed in her head. Destroy them! Release our power and show them what it is to face a goddess!

The glow of the iron ring grew brighter, but no magic came forth. No sparkling spears of energy tore their souls from their bodies. No radiant beams of magic burnt the flesh from their bones. Twilight lay in the wet grass screaming in impotent, mindless rage at the bounty hunters standing over her.

“Oh, shut up,” Gava said. Twilight watched as the griffon pulled the revolver from the holster fastened to her chest and brought the grip down on her head.

“That was creepy for you too, right?” Ana asked. “Like, wow, did you see that look in her eyes?”

Gava grimaced. The purple unicorn beneath them had deep bags under her eyes. “There’s something up with that mare. I’m almost worried she’ll break the ring.”

“She can’t break the ring,” Ana said. “I don’t care how strong she is. That thing’s pre-flood.”

Gava shrugged. “Guess we’ll see, huh?” She turned to a nearby copse of trees and let out a sharp whistle. A pair of earth ponies crept out of the shadows, eyeing the unconscious unicorn as if they were afraid she was going to suddenly open her eyes and evaporate them all. “Take her to the Screech. And tell Top we’re good to go.”

The hirelings nodded. Gingerly, they braced the limp purple body, still giving off a pale white light from the ring on its horn, and began to walk away.

“And don’t touch that ring!” Ana added. “She’ll probably kill you if you do.”

“Do we really have to tell them that?” Gava asked, turning back to her sister.

Ana shrugged. “You never know. Some people are dumb enough to attack a ship full of Gifted with unknown capabilities in a head-on assault, after all.”

Gava narrowed her eyes.

Ana nudged her with a wing. “You’re welcome.”

“You truly are my better half,” Gava drawled.

“Smart half, at least.”

Gava rolled her eyes. “So that’s the witch down. You said the second unicorn was the other big threat?”

Ana nodded. “As long as you’re wearing clothes, yeah. I think that holster would be enough, even. I’ll handle her. Pinkie Pie is a wildcard.”

“That just leaves Dyejob, the cowpony, and that skinny yellow one,” Gava said. She turned towards the soft glow of the illuminated manor in the distance. “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

“And Titus and his soldiers,” Ana added. “Can’t forget about them. There’s a lot of ponies in there.”

“I’m sure the Duchess will be more than enough to balance that out,” Gava said. She flared her wings. “You ready?”

“More ready than you, that’s for sure.”

Again, Gava rolled her eyes. She took flight with a couple powerful beats of her wings. She couldn’t hear the thestral’s wings, but she knew that she was following.

They were together now. No prey could escape them.

Author's Note

Will Twilight's friends be able to weather the coming storm? Will she be able to break free from the clutches of Gava's crew? And will I finish writing the next chapter within two weeks? Find out soon(tm) in the next exciting installment of Empty Horizons!

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XXIII: The Other

Twilight gasped as her head jerked up. She was in her study in the Golden Oaks Library. A book was sprawled out on her desk—Slumber 101: All You Ever Wanted To Know About Slumber Parties But Were Afraid To Ask. Blood-red sunlight filtered past the drapes drawn shut over her windows, casting an eerie pallor over the room broken only by flickering candles.

There was a soft click behind her. Twilight turned around, coming face to face with The Other. It smiled at her, a leering, fanged doppelganger in her own image, and walked over to one of the private bookshelves she kept away from the public.

“What are you doing?” Twilight demanded.

“Looking for something to read,” The Other replied. “We enjoy reading, don’t we, little flower?” A tendril of black magic wormed out of its horn, plucking a book from the shelf. Daring Do and the Forbidden City of Clouds. “A guilty pleasure?”

“You know that’s not what I’m asking about,” Twilight growled. She stood to her full height, meeting the bloodshot gaze of her counterpart.

“Oh, but isn’t this what you wanted?” The Other asked. “Freedom from our shackles? Vengeance on our foes? Our true power, revealed?”

“No!” Twilight shouted. Her voice shook the treehouse with an ethereal echo, causing the pages of the open books strewn around the room to flutter back and forth. “I am not going to let you lock me in my own head! Not again!” Her horn burst into light, and she screamed as she unleashed a cone of rippling lavender energy against the nearest wall. The wall exploded outwards with a crash, revealing a starry black sky criss-crossed with meandering trails of twinkling purple and black.

Twilight blinked. Is that—unfiltered subconscious?

The Other’s sinister laughter drew her attention. “Such willingness to dominate! If only you were so ready to use our magic outside of our head.”

Twilight clenched her jaw as she rounded on her personal monster. “Stop talking like that! It’s my head, my magic, and my body! You’re just some parasite I haven’t figured out how to kill yet.”

“Is that so?” The Other sneered at her, tossing the Daring Do book aside and beginning to advance on her with a slow, measured step. “Oh, but I am you. Your anger and your aggression were always there, even if you couldn’t talk at it. You can’t get rid of me with the right book, little flower.”

“Stop calling me that!” Twilight hissed. The treehouse began to shake and groan around her.

“And what a beautiful blossom you are,” The Other continued. It began to walk a slow circle around her, leaning in close to whisper into her ears. “Willing to bring our power to bear against the weaklings that oppose us, willing to threaten me with death! We remember a time when you would shy away from even speaking such words.”

“Shut up.” Twilight’s whole body was shaking with the effort of holding herself back from another outburst. “That isn’t me.”

“No? Was it not you who killed changelings in Canterlot with your eyes squeezed shut? What of the scum you killed during your rampage on that mongrel griffon’s ship?” The Other’s breath was hot on Twilight’s neck. “Darling Celestia’s pet, impaled on your magic?”

“No!” Twilight’s knees buckled. Her breath came in short bursts as she looked down at the bloody tears falling off her cheeks. “That was you. You took me over! I didn’t do any of those things!”

“But we did, my little flower. We did them together, even if you’d like to pretend otherwise. I’m just the part of you that’s willing to do what it takes to survive.”

Twilight looked up, meeting her own eyes. “You’re not part of me. You’re that wild magic that I took in from Fluttershy. You can’t convince me that you’re part of me.”

The Other responded with a honeyed smile. Rivulets of blood dripped from her lips, stinking of death. “Would you like to see what we’re doing, together?”

A sob racked Twilight’s body. She was silent for several long seconds. At last, she nodded.

“Very well. I will show you.” The Other stood up, pulling Twilight to her hooves with a gentle hold. Twilight watched as it walked to a long reading pillow and sat down. It patted the spot next to her.

Twilight grimaced as she followed. She drew up short a couple steps from the pillow, eyeing the empty spot with clear distaste. The Other beckoned with a cracked hoof.

Curling her lip, Twilight sat on the furthest end of the pillow. Three windows decorated the far wall, wavy red light leaking past each set of closed drapes. In the corner of her eye, the sparkling abyss of her subconscious yawned at her.

“Remember, little flower, you chose to accept my help.”

Twilight didn’t look at it. “I didn’t have a choice.”

It let out a thoughtful hum. “You can believe that, for now.”

There was a soft tinkling of magic, and the drapes were pulled back.

Ana grunted as the coarse ropes were tightened around her legs. She struggled in vain against the weight pinning her face-down in the wet grass. “Let me go, mare! I have to go—mmm!”

She growled in protest as a coil of rope was shoved into her mouth. Rough hooves rolled her onto her back, and she glared up at the behatted cowpony above her.

“Y’all can sit tight for now, I reckon,” Applejack said. “At least until I find someone else to hoof y’all over to. I hear Titus has a mighty fine dungeon somewhere in this big house of his.”

Ana continued to strain against her bonds as Applejack began the process of freeing the three targets she had worked so hard to subdue. The knots held tight, but she couldn’t let up. Her home had just been blown out of the sky, and there was a fair chance that her only remaining family had gone with it. She had to know. She had to go. She had to find her sister.

“Y’alright, Fluttershy?” Applejack said as she pulled the rope bit out of the pegasus’ mouth.

Fluttershy rolled onto her hooves, still shaking. “I’m, um, fine. Th-thanks.”

“That’s good. Ya think y’all can get Pinkie while I take care of Rarity?”

“S-sure.”

Pinkie Pie had gone strangely quiet. It was perhaps the longest Ana had ever heard her go without making any noise. She finally spoke as Fluttershy leaned over her.

“Girls,” she said, her voice eerily serious. “Twilight’s in big trouble.”

“Don’t worry, Pinkie, we’ll get her,” Applejack said as she pulled the chloroform mask off of Rarity’s face. “Out of any of us, I figure she’s got a decent chance at takin’ care of herself.”

The ground shook with a distant explosion. Each of the five mares looked towards the source of the sound with varying levels of concern, fear, and alarm, but whatever it was, it was blocked by the looming shadow of the mansion.

“This is really, really bad, AJ,” Pinkie continued. “This is a bad, bad doozy. We have to get to her. Now.”

Applejack looked up from the unconscious Rarity, meeting Pinkie’s eyes. A second passed. “‘Shy, y’all carry Rarity till she wakes up. Let’s get movin’.”

Ana huffed as she was hauled bodily off of the ground and slung onto Applejack’s back. She gnawed at the rope in her mouth, her tail flicking side to side.

“Y’all can hush,” Applejack snapped back at her. “Half the blame for this mess is on yer head.”

A shrill screech echoed over the yard, causing each mare to wince and clench their teeth from the piercing pain in their ears. A flash of purple light lit the night sky like a stroke of lightning, and the flash was followed a moment later by rumbling thunder. Ana’s ears went flat against her head as her heart attempted to beat its way out of her chest. Her captors took a second to recover from the sensory overload before pressing forwards once more.

These ponies are crazy! Ana redoubled her struggle. Pain blossomed in her wings as she tried to loosen her bindings with them. They’re going to get me killed! She looked to Fluttershy with wide eyes, pleading for the pegasus to turn the group around. Fluttershy kept her eyes forwards as she brought up the rear step by shivering step. Even she, it seemed, was willing to march into the madness.

A quiet, “Whoa, nelly,” reached Ana’s ears. She turned to see that they had made it into the front yard. Bloody bodies in shades of green, orange, and brown were scattered over the smoldering gardens, but that wasn’t where Applejack was looking. Her mouth hung open as she took her hat off and looked up.

Ana followed her gaze and squinted into the lavender star that hovered over the cleared land. An arcing lance of energy shot out of it, sending a shockwave through the ground as it impacted somewhere out of sight. A long gout of flame clawed for the sky before dying back down.

Oh, fuck no! Ana aimed a few glancing kicks at Applejack’s flank, but it was impossible to get any leverage from her position. Let! Me! Go!

Applejack ignored her. She instead slipped her hat back on and turned back to her friends. Her face was grim. “Y’all ready, gals?”

Pinkie gave a firm nod. “Always!”

Fluttershy, meanwhile, had gone deathly pale. “R-r-r-r-ready.”

Countess Rarity let out a moan as she blinked her eyes open. “What happened?”

“We’ll catch y’all up durin’ the walk, Rares,” Applejack said. She started leading the group towards the nearest hole in the estate’s wall, weaving around bodies and burnt bushes. “I reckon this is partially my fault.” She shook her head as she watched the flickering star grow brighter still. “I had a sense somethin’ like this was comin’ up on us for a while now, gals, though not quite so violent. I failed Twilight and I failed y’all. I’m sorry.”

“No time for apologies, Applejack!” Pinkie said, bounding forward to take the lead.

“A-a-although we d-do, um, f-f-forgive you,” Fluttershy squeaked.

As she gathered her bearings, Rarity’s eyes came to focus on Ana, tied up on Applejack’s back. Her voice caught as she spoke. “But—why?”

“Later, Rares,” Applejack said. Ana looked away.

“But—mm. I think I’m good to walk now, darling,” Rarity said. She eased herself off Fluttershy’s back, staggering for just a moment before straightening up. “We need to move as—oh, goodness—as quick as we can.”

“Girls!” Rainbow Dash careened out of the sky, landing with a sloppy flop that she just barely turned into a roll back to her hooves. Bloody bandages and swollen bruises dotted her sides, and she was quick to speak as her friends all turned to her with questions in their eyes. “No time! We gotta get to Twi, fast!”

Applejack nodded. “Right, then. Let’s giddy up, y’all! Twilight needs us!”

The five mares galloped towards the blinding orb of destruction. Still tied up on Applejack’s back, Ana screamed in frustration.

In all her years, Gava had never seen destruction on such a scale.

She flew over a burning forest just a few hundred meters out from Titus’ estate. Waves of hot air buffeted her from below, pushing her up even as powerful bouts of turbulence threatened to throw her out of the sky. The roaring of the flames filled the night. Underneath it, a constant, high-pitched wail scratched at her thoughts.

Craters dotted the landscape, surrounded by bloodstains and charred limbs. Soldiers in orange tabards screamed as their attempts to escape into the night were cut short by bolts of lavender lightning. Each one popped with a flash and a violent burst of red, staining the grass with their spent lives. Almost every soldier that Nettlekiss had sent had been cut down, and the purple witch showed no sign of stopping.

And what could Gava do? Her ship was a smoking wreckage. Her father’s ship. He had trusted her to keep it safe, and she had failed. Her rage boiled inside her, urging her to exact vengeance. All she had to do was draw her father’s gun, throw herself screaming at the one that had taken everything from her, and then she could rest knowing that she had died as a huntress should.

But she couldn’t do that yet. She had to find Ana, first, dead or alive. Only then would she decide whether she wanted to see the sun again.

“Gava!” A voice like tearing paper shrieked inside her mind, almost making her wings seize up in shock. The flames swathing the landscape lashed higher still, shifting between brilliant purple and deep red, as they screamed along with their creator. “Where are you?!”

Gava dipped as low as she dared and angled herself towards the estate. Ana was probably hiding there still, and it would give her ample cover in case the witch found her. She clacked her beak as the heat of the fires singed her belly feathers.

“You can’t hide from me, fledgling!”

The feathers on Gava’s back stood up as the air around her began to glow. She squawked in alarm, snapping to the side just as a crackling lance of magic twice her size cut through the air where she had been. The beam struck the island with a deafening crack, causing the earth to ripple and snap around the point of impact with a shuddering groan.

A wall of hot air hit Gava like a giant’s wing. She cried out as she was flipped end over end through the air, her own wings buckling under the sudden acceleration. A lance of pain raced up one of her forelegs as she bounced off something hard, but the impact had slowed her down enough for her to snap her wings open and catch the wind once more.

Gava slowed herself down just enough to catch a glimpse of Titus’ estate as it rushed to meet her. She screeched again, her legs rising to protect her face just as she crashed into the slanted roof. Time seemed to skip as the pain in her leg multiplied tenfold, and the next time she opened her eyes she was on her back in the garden with loose tiles and masonry raining around her.

“F-fuck,” Gava groaned as she struggled off the ground. She began to limp towards the relative safety of the mansion.

“Come to me, coward,” the ethereal voice hissed. “I want to see you die!”

A low growl escaped Gava’s throat as she hobbled up the first of the steps. “Fuckin’ witch.” It’s not cowardice that drives me to survive.

Again, the feathers twitched on her back. She was lifted off the ground as if by an invisible vice and twisted mid-air, brought face-to-face with her prey-turned-predator for the first time.

Rarity grit her teeth as she galloped in Fluttershy’s wake, keeping her eyes fixed on the flowing pink tail in front of her. The rapidly spreading fires surrounding the estate had begun to fill the air with smoke that clung to her coat and stung at her eyes. She could barely even see the back of Fluttershy’s head, but as long as she didn’t lose track of her tail, she could keep up.

“You can’t hide from me, fledgling!”

Rarity winced as the deafening voice bounced around in her head. It sounded like Twilight, almost. It was as if she had spent three days straight screaming at the top of her lungs, and somehow still found the will to force more words out through her raw, bloodied throat.

A flash of blinding red and lavender washed over the burning field. A moment later, Rarity was tossed off her hooves by a rippling shockwave that traveled across the ground and rattled painfully up her legs. The breath was driven from her lungs by the force of its impact, and she gasped for air as she struggled to get back to her hooves.

A violent cough wracked her body as she stood up. Pillars of displaced earth shot up around her, blocking her sight and hemming her in. Squinting through the smoky haze around her in search of her friends, she let out a shriek as she realized that her dress had caught fire, and she tore it off with her magic before the fire could spread to her coat.

Applejack’s voice, hoarse from shouting, was barely audible over the flames. “She’s goin’ this way! Stick together, y’all!”

Rarity held her breath as she barreled through a wall of smoke towards the voice. Searing heat licked at her belly, but she came out into relatively clear air to find each of her friends around her.

“Oh goodness,” Fluttershy said. Her face was marred by black stains. “Are y-y-you okay?”

“Don’t look at me!” Rarity screeched, all too aware of the similar stains dotting her coat and ruined mane. “Where’s Twilight?”

“Follow me!” Applejack called. “She went back to the manor!”

Rarity’s mind raced as she fell in with the group once more, ignoring the way her hooves chipped as she ran over armored bodies and the way her fur stung when they passed too close to a fire. A gust of wind blew past, and Rarity caught a clear glimpse of Titus’ ruined estate. Floating above it was a unicorn mare swathed in a swirling mass of crackling arcane energies.

Is this what happened to Celestia? Rarity wondered. Has she just become another monster? A cold dread wrapped around her pounding heart, a chill that she felt even through the overwhelming heat of the fire. What if we can’t stop her?

Rainbow Dash slowed down, allowing herself to fall back from the front of the group. “Big gap ahead!” she shouted, voice cracking. “We’ll have to jump!”

The ground grew uneven, the once smooth hills of the land having been twisted into a rocky, burning hellscape. Rarity watched as she saw Applejack jump over something, causing Ana’s eyes to bulge as she teetered precariously on her flank, followed by Pinkie Pie. Fluttershy squealed in terror, spread her wings, and crossed the gap. Rarity crouched down, gritting her teeth before launching herself into the air.

Her hoof slipped. She screamed as she began to fall forwards into a pit over twice her size, its sides glowing red with heat. Time slowed as she stared with wide eyes into the endless stone maw, catching a brief glimpse of moonlight reflected on the ocean far, far below.

Rainbow’s hooves hooked under her legs. “I gotcha, Rares!”

Rarity’s legs were so weak that they barely held her weight as Rainbow dropped her back on solid ground. She stumbled, mind still reeling from her near fall, before shoving the experience aside. Twilight needed her. That was what mattered.

Twilight’s mutated voice echoed in her mind as she followed Fluttershy past the crumbling remains of the estate wall. “Come to me, coward. I want to see you die!”

Rarity looked up to see Gava struggling vainly in Twilight’s magical grip, both of them floating several meters over the twisted ground. “Darling, stop!”

The other unicorn didn’t show any sign of hearing. A manic grin stretched across her face as she lifted a hoof, causing Gava to rise along with it. She swept the hoof downwards, and Gava screeched as she was slammed into the marble steps of the manor hard enough to crack it.

“Twilight!” Pinkie Pie called, rearing up to wave both forelegs. “This isn’t you!”

“Hey, we’re talking to you!” Rainbow Dash coiled her body like a spring before launching herself forwards. “You need to calm down!”

Twilight’s head twisted around with unnatural speed, her cold gaze focusing in on the approaching rainbow blur. A tendril of lavender lashed out, and Rainbow just managed to let out a strangled yelp before she was flicked out of the sky.

“Rainbow!” Fluttershy gasped, rushing to help.

Twilight’s eyes lingered on Rainbow’s still form for a full second. “Do not interfere!”

Applejack stomped a hoof on the ground. “Twi, I’m sorry I let things get this far! Y’all need to just talk to us! Put that bird down and come back to us!”

“There is nowhere to return to,” Twilight said. Each of her friends flinched at the force of her voice. Her eyes glowed, and Gava’s limp body was peeled out of the indent she had left on the stairs.

On Applejack’s back, Ana found her second wind. She shook her whole body from side to side, pushing against her bindings with her wings, and managed to roll to the ground. The frayed rope in her mouth finally snapped as she bit down hard, letting her speak. “Sister!”

Gava stirred. Her head rose up just enough for her to blink an eye open. “Oh. Hey, Sis.”

Blinding light gathered at the tip of Twilight’s horn, forcing the assembled ponies to close their eyes or look away. The screech of raw magic clawed at Rarity’s ears as the ground buckled and shook beneath her, throwing her to the ground. The sound of crumbling stone and shifting dirt competed to be heard over the screaming of the land. When the light subsided enough for her to open her eyes again, Twilight and Gava were both floating over a chasm that stretched across out of sight in both directions, its walls glowing red-hot.

Twilight grinned down at the limp griffon. “Join your ancestors, fledgling.”

“Twilight, no!” Pinkie screamed. Tears streamed down her face as took a few steps forward.

“Careful, Pinkie!” Applejack called.

Pinkie looked back. Her mane began to lose its color. “Whatever happens, we have to be there for her.”

“Pinkie?” Rarity asked. “What are you doing?”

“I’m here for you, Twilight!” Pinkie Pie called. She broke into a gallop, aiming straight for her possessed friend. “No matter what!”

Pinkie jumped into the open air, hooves outstretched. The gap was far too big for her to jump across, but she had just enough speed to cross the distance between the edge and where Twilight was floating.

Twilight blinked as Pinkie Pie latched onto her with a fearsome hug, the brilliant glow in her eyes seeming almost to dim for just a moment. She looked down to the crying earth pony wrapped around her. Gava, forgotten for the moment, let out a barely audible wheeze as she fell out of sight.

“No!” Ana screamed. “Sister! Damn—fuck!”

Rarity held her breath as Twilight met Pinkie’s eyes. The ripping winds grew still, and even the flames seemed to hush themselves in anticipation.

The doors to the manor were flung open. Duke Titus hobbled out, bereft of his armor, with a squad of battered troops close behind. He took one look at the disaster that had befallen his land, and his muzzle twisted into a deep scowl.

He pointed a hoof at the crazed purple unicorn. “End that monster!”

Of the dozen troops beside him, eight were pegasi. Of those eight, six had rifles tucked under their wings. All six took aim without hesitation. Six gouts of fire spewed from their barrels as they each pulled the trigger.

Twilight’s head snapped around to face the new threat. A sneer wormed across her face. “Foals.”

A wave of red energy burst from Twilight, sending each bullet careening wildly off target. Pinkie Pie was thrown backwards with a shriek. A wet crunch echoed over the yard as she struck the smoldering remains of a tree, and she fell to the ground, silent and still.

Rarity let out a shriek. Applejack cursed and stomped. Fluttershy let out a sob. Above it all, Twilight screamed.

“No!”

Twilight opened her eyes. She was floating over the jagged chasm that had been torn across Duke Titus’ estate with her own uncontrolled magic. One of her oldest, dearest friends lay crumpled in the shadow of a burnt-out tree, thrown there with her own magic.

You said you wouldn’t hurt them!

Cease this at once! You will get us killed!

I would rather die!

The crack of gunfire sounded from behind her. Instinctively, she erected a shield to deflect the bullets.

You are weak! You do not deserve our power!

Twilight grit her teeth. She wanted to go to her friends, to comfort them and heal their wounds and beg for their forgiveness. She wanted so bad to just feel their warmth and cry and tell them everything.

Why can’t I move? Let me go!

We cannot be distracted by your worthless sentiment. Turn on those who would do us harm and end them!

Twilight could feel the Other writhing throughout her entire body. It hadn’t drawn back to where it had been before. Its dark magic still reached every part of her. She could feel it tugging at her mind, pulling at her limbs, clawing at her magic. It wanted to kill, but it couldn’t do anything if she didn’t let it. She wanted to go to her friends, but it was holding her back just as she was it.

She could still hear Titus shouting commands, even if she couldn’t turn her head to look at him. “Fire! Kill it, kill it, kill it!” The bullets kept coming, each one turning into a ball of molten slag before being flung off into the night.

We should run.

Flee? Bah! I refuse to turn my back to such fodder!

The sorrow lingering in Twilight’s breast turned to anger. I will hold us here until we die! I don’t care how long it takes!

You couldn’t, the Other shot back. I can feel your anger. You will give in again, and it will be for the last time.

Twilight couldn’t force herself to take deep breaths. She couldn’t even close her eyes. She summoned a mental image of herself as a filly, reading old textbooks under Celestia’s wing as the Princess sipped at her tea and read scroll after scroll of bureaucratic paperwork. The anger began to fade away. She could feel the magic shell around her weakening, fading away. A ball of melted lead landed on her flank, burning at her coat.

I will not let that happen.

For a moment, the Other didn’t respond. She could feel it thinking, pondering, testing at her mind. She moved her gaze to meet Applejack’s. The cowpony stood firm on the edge of the chasm, looking into her eyes with a calm solidarity. She was a rock, unflinching in the face of the strongest waves. In those steady green eyes, Twilight knew that she could find the strength to hold the monster inside her back until the end of time.

The Other screamed in impotent rage inside of her. Fine! We will flee as cowards for now, but I will not let you dictate our actions like this in the future!

The Other began to relinquish its pull. It drew back from her body, and Twilight finally found herself able to move her limbs again. She took a deep breath, choking back a sob.

“Twi?” Applejack asked. The sounds of gunfire and crackling fire faded into the back of Twilight’s mind as she focused on her friend’s voice. “Is that you?”

Twilight gave her a shaky nod. “It’s me.”

The tension in Applejack’s body began to fade away. “Y’all comin’ back to us, sugar cube?”

A shivering breath escaped Twilight’s lips as she shook her head. “Don’t follow me.”

Applejack frowned. She took a step forwards, eyes widening. “Twi?”

Twilight allowed the magic holding her in the air to falter. Applejack cried out as she dove towards the edge of the chasm, extending a hoof as if to catch her.

“Twilight!”

The wind rushed in Twilight’s ears as she plummeted through the gaping wound she had cut through the island. She kept Applejack’s gaze the whole way down, grounding herself in the cool green of her eyes as she fell out of the bottom of the island.

The ocean glowed a gentle lavender as it reared up, catching her on a gentle cushion of water. She lay still, her eyes remaining focused on the spot where Applejack had been, and she drifted deeper into the depths.

End of Act One

Author's Note

“Here will end the story of Twilight Sparkle, who died alone when she had nobody left to fail.”

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Epilogue

Three Days Later

Rarity gasped as the sound of the doorknob turning roused her from her fitful sleep. She blinked the fog from her mind as she looked up to watch Rainbow Dash step inside.

She glanced towards Pinkie and, seeing the mare still sound asleep in her bed, Rarity pulled herself to her hooves. She beckoned Rainbow towards the wardrobe.

The pegasus was still in her dive suit, cradling the armored helmet under one wing. The injuries she had sustained during the battle three days prior were still healing, and patches of missing fur left bare her fading bruises and scratches. A trio of jagged scars had formed running down one side of her muzzle. She answered the beckon with a stiff nod and followed Rarity to huddle in the corner of the room.

“Did you find—anything?” Rarity whispered.

Rainbow shook her head. “Still nothing.” Her eye flicked over to the sleeping Pinkie Pie. “C’mon. Let’s talk about this in the dining hall with the others.”

The two mares stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind them as silently as they could. They walked for a few seconds, putting distance between themselves and Pinkie, before speaking again.

“Is there anywhere left to search?” Rarity asked.

Rainbow shrugged. “A bit, yeah, but I don’t think she’s gonna be there either.” Her armored hooves thudded against the carpet as they passed by a collapsed section of wall outlined in scaffolding. The villagers had been working hard since the battle, but the damage to Titus’ estate was too extensive to fix quickly without endangering crop harvests.

“Well, why didn’t you look there before coming back?” Rarity snapped. “We have to be certain!”

“She’s not there, Rares,” Rainbow insisted. “I flew all the sky around this island for miles in every direction, and Trails has done the same for the seafloor. There’s nothing but the same old monsters down there.” She paused, pursing her lips. “She’s gone somewhere.”

They came out into the dining hall. The blood and rubble had all been scrubbed up and cleared away here, but the cracks in the walls remained. Applejack and Fluttershy were engaged in quiet conversation at one end of the table. The former was covered in sawdust and rock dust, and the latter was scrubbing idly at blood dried onto her apron. Both of their coats had a sheen of sweat.

Applejack dipped her head in greeting. “Did y’all tell her the idea yet?”

“I only told her what we found,” Rainbow said. “Or didn’t find, I guess.”

Fluttershy waved a hoof. “How’s Pinkie?”

Rarity answered with a wan smile. “She’s holding up.”

“Poor gal.” Applejack sighed as she took off her hat and shook some dust out of her mane. “Losin’ her legs like that. I feel for her.”

“At least she still has them,” Rainbow said. She plopped down into a seat, perhaps harder than necessary. “I bet Twi can get them working again.”

“If we can find her,” Fluttershy added.

“We’ll find her!” Rainbow snapped. “She’s out there somewhere.”

“But how can you be sure, darling?” Rarity asked. She sat down opposite Rainbow, extending a hoof to touch hers. “Maybe we should start talking about—”

“She didn’t give up on you,” Rainbow said. “An entire island fell out of the sky, and she wouldn’t even sleep until we went down to—to at least find your bodies.”

Applejack cleared her throat. “Y’all don’t really reckon that Twi would just—y’know, do ya? That filly’d barely close her eyes for a nap before she plans her schedule. Way I figure, she’s still got her mission and she ain’t gonna be puttin’ too much thought into any kind of sleepin’ till she sees it through.” She let out a low chuckle. “Shucks, I bet she ain’t caught a wink of shuteye without us hoverin’ over her.”

Fluttershy cracked a smile, but Rarity was too tired to consider laughing. Rainbow Dash just arched a brow. Applejack’s smile faded, and she hid her face behind her hat for a moment before placing it back atop her head.

“Plus there’s the whole ‘don’t follow me’ thing,” she continued. “Sounded kinda like she was goin’ somewhere, and didn’t want us to worry.”

“I’m, um, worried,” Fluttershy mumbled.

“We all are, darling,” Rarity said. “But how can we even know where to begin? There’s all of Equestria out there!”

“She’s probably scared,” Fluttershy whispered. “And lonely. I would just want to go hide under my bed if I were her.”

“Except we kinda crushed her treehouse as soon as we got here,” Rainbow said. She shook her head. “And then with Owloysius? I dunno if she’d want to go back.”

“She did have a home before Ponyville, dear,” Rarity said. “Perhaps Canterlot? It’s dry still. She might have gone back there to gather her bearings.”

Applejack shrugged. “I ain’t got any other ideas.”

Rainbow sighed. A small jet of steam vented from her armor as she stood up. “Well, I guess I’d better get going. The Argo will just need a bit of resupplying and then we can head out.”

“Now y’all hold your horses,” Applejack said, standing up. “Y’all know I’m comin’ along.”

“I would like to go as well,” Rarity said, raising a hoof. She let out a quiet “Oh, goodness” as her leg complained about the effort. She glanced around the room, hoping her friends hadn’t noticed.

All eyes turned to Fluttershy, who hid behind her mane. “I, uh, think somebody should stay behind and watch Pinkie. And all the soldiers, um, need me, too. Is that okay with all of you?”

“That’s quite alright, dear,” Rarity said. She reached over to pull the yellow pegasus into a sidelong hug. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

“Reckon that settles it, then,” Applejack said. “The three of us’ll join Sabre’s crew and go check out Canterlot. And hopefully we find somethin’, cause frankly I ain’t got a clue of where to check next if we don’t.”

“We’ll find her, dear Applejack,” Rarity said. She gave each of her friends in turn the most confident smile she could muster, shutting out her own doubts. “We’ll find her.”

With a grunt, Gava shoved the heavy wooden beam to the side.

It fell back to the ground with a crash, splitting down the charred middle section where it had burned through the most. She grimaced as she looked down at the shriveled and burnt corpse that had been hidden underneath it. A few patches of blue fur had survived around the ring of its horn.

“Sorry, Top,” she muttered, pushing him out of the way. “We had a good run.”

She ducked through a collapsed wall, waving the lingering smoke out of her face with a wing. A couple other bodies were hidden here, though she didn’t recognize them. She stepped over them without hesitation, making a beeline for an iron-bound wooden chest half-buried in rubble.

After a few good tugs, the chest came free with a great clatter of falling wood. She held her breath as she gingerly lifted the cover.

A bleached white griffon skull waited within. She let out the breath she had been holding as she picked it up and held its forehead up to her own.

“Hey, Dad,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “I really fucked up.”

She let several seconds pass in this way, feeling for her father’s spirit. His disappointment was clear, but he was also proud of her for admitting her mistakes. For a brief moment she was a fledgling again, listening to him lecture her on the dangers of pride. It was a lecture she had received many times.

With a sigh, she gingerly placed the skull back into the chest, making sure to nestle it snugly among the cushions within. “I’ll keep her safe. Promise.”

The chest closed with a solid click. She cradled it in her forelegs as she weaved her way out of the belly of her crashed ship and back to open air. She would have to find a new, safer place to store her father while she considered the best way to free Ana.

Somebody cleared their throat. She whipped around, drawing and cocking her revolver in the same motion that she lined up the sights.

A pale blue unicorn stallion was standing in the shade of one of the few trees lucky enough to have survived the airship crash. He greeted the barrel of her gun with a polite smile. “Good evening.”

She scowled down at him. The arm holding her gun shook with its weight. Fucking injuries. “What are you doing here?”

“I was hoping we could come to an agreement.” The unicorn dipped into a precisely measured bow. “My name is Whitehorn. Do you mind if I sit?”

“You can put your plot where you want, pony,” Gava said.

“Thank you.” He straightened up, tugging the creases out of his silver vest before sitting down against the tree. “I know you’re not one for wasting time, so I’ll get right to the point. I need you to stop hunting those Gifted.”

“What?” Gava snorted. “What do I care about what you want? Fuck off before I eat you.”

Whitehorn’s smile didn’t falter. “You’ve caused me a great deal of inconvenience with your interference, Gava. I need you to stop.”

Gava narrowed her eyes at him. Her tail swished from side to side. Why isn’t this one getting scared? She lifted a talon still stained with some of her own blood. “You got a deathwish, pony?”

He shook his head with a civil little laugh. “I’m not here to fight you, Gava. I do have some understanding of your motives, after all.” He reached into his saddlebag, pulling out a pouch as big as Gava’s head with a small grunt of effort and tossing it onto the floor between them. The bag’s contents jingled alluringly as they settled.

“You’re gonna pay me off?” Gava asked, arching a brow. She tugged at the bag’s tie with a claw, loosening it enough for her to confirm its contents. Gleaming golden bits stared back at her. Designs from several different islands were stamped onto their faces. A real traveler, huh?

She looked back up to him. “This isn’t nearly worth what all those Gifted would be. Not even a fraction.”

Whitehorn’s smile grew thin. “The stories I’ve heard weren’t exaggerating when they mentioned your arrogance.”

Gava pounced. She was on the pony before he could even react, bearing him to the ground and pinning him on his back. He grunted as she slammed into him, but didn’t offer any resistance as she brought a talon up to his face. “Insults will get you nowhere, food. Any last words?”

He grimaced as she pushed down on him with her weight. “If you kill me, you’ll never see Ana again.”

Gava hesitated. She picked him up off the ground by the neck, spinning him around and slamming him against the wreckage of her ship. “Where is she?!”

He grasped at her talons with his hooves, tugging weakly. “Can’t—breathe.”

She snarled as she let him drop to the ground. “Talk!”

He sucked in a few quick gasps of air and let out a breathy laugh. “Whew. She is being held by Duke Titus.” He looked up to meet her eyes, the same courteous smile returning. “He intends to execute her as soon as he can spare the time.”

Gava glared down at him for a few seconds. “So I’ll break her out, then. But for now, ready to die?”

“Still?” Whitehorn picked himself up and wiped some of the dust off his vest with a hoof. “You can’t save her, Gava, not on your own.Titus is on high alert after the attack on his home, and he knows that you will likely make a rescue attempt.” His smile grew a bit wider. “And after all, isn’t she the one with all the plans?”

Gava snatched the bag of bits up, shaking it so its contents clinked together. “I’ll buy help.”

“From who?” Whitehorn asked. “Who will be willing to attack a Duke’s home just days after some unknown monster sliced a piece of the island off the mainland and caused earthquakes for miles around?” He paused, letting his words sink in. “You cannot free her by force. But if you cooperate, I can ensure she survives.”

“So you’re blackmailing me,” Gava spat. She turned away from him, digging her talons into the ground.

“I am inviting you to join me,” Whitehorn countered. “Look at your situation, Gava. Your ship is destroyed, your crew is gone, and your partner is awaiting execution with no way for you to rescue her. You’re at the end of your line.”

She could hear his hoofsteps coming closer as he spoke. He put a hoof on her shoulder. She stiffened, but forced herself to keep still instead of ripping his leg off.

“But I’m giving you another chance. I could use a pair of skilled individuals such as yourself and Ana in the days to come. They will be trying times, and I expect I’ll need actors willing to do what must be done to further a noble cause. And once it’s all done, I will make sure that there’s a place for both of you in the new world we create.”

Gava shot him a sideways glare. She entertained a brief fantasy of cutting the smile right off his face.

“If nothing else, Gava, you will be well compensated in bits,” Whitehorn added. “And we can part ways once it’s all over.”

Gava narrowed her eyes at him.

He smiled up at her, as courteous and mannerly as ever.

Continued in Act Two: Sunken Horizons

Author's Note

What a ride, huh? I'll be making a blog post later, but to everyone that's come with me so far—thanks for reading, and I hope you're as eager to see what happens next as I am!

Click here to read the Act One Wrap-up Blog!

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XI: The Serpent

Gava had visited Leviathan Wakes only once before, as a fledgling still tugging on her father’s tailfeathers. It had left a good impression on her, and she had to admit that even now she was enjoying the oceanborne city. The neverending demand for fish to feed and guide the city’s patron leviathans had led the residents to develop their own taste for meat, and it was nice to be able to walk into a store and ask for lunch without nearby mares ushering their foals outside.

Besides the friendly diet and lingering scent of fish blood, Wakes was also home to a strong culture of exploration and independence. It was the perfect home for the wandering soul too poor for an airship, and the closest thing the city had to an official government was a fat sack of bits. Anarchy and capitalism at its finest, Gava thought. As the citizens were prone to saying: “Bits, wits, and nothing else.”

She landed on the deck of her ship, beak glistening with the fresh remains of an unfortunate fish. She had picked up a few extra hooves in Heighton, and offered the ones loitering on the deck a bloody smile. Most of them flinched back, but one was brave enough to respond with a shaky salute.

“Welcome back, ma’am,” he said. “Any orders?”

Gava dipped her head. “Thank you. Find Topgallant and tell him to push off.”

The sailor hesitated, eyes flicking back to his comrades. “We still have hooves on leave, ma’am.”

Gava’s smile faltered. “Did I stutter?” she snapped, causing him to stumble into the railing behind him. “Do you think I’m some kind of moron that leaves what she pays for behind in sheer absent-mindedness? We’ll be back soon, you idiot! Question me again and it’ll be your blood on my beak.”

She walked past him without waiting for a response, confident in his obedience. Ponies were always scared of being eaten. She knew for a fact that she had given subordinates recurring nightmares in the past.

Making her way to the ship’s bottom level, Gava was pleased to hear her lieutenants shouting orders at the hired hooves on deck. She could already feel the ship rising by the time she arrived at the brig. The cells were all empty save for one at the very back, a heavy curtain draped across its inside, and Gava was sure to let her just-sharpened talons click against the wood at a steady pace as she approached.

A quiet whimper leaked past the curtain as she opened the door, not bothering to close it. She was confident in her ability to catch her prisoner again, and wouldn’t even mind the opportunity for an exciting chase. She drew the curtain back sharply, pulling it back behind her and casting the cell into shadow. The only light came from a tiny round window on the far wall. A pony would be able to make out little more than hazy shapes, but to Gava’s eagle eyes the room was illuminated as if in broad daylight. She had no trouble seeing every squirm and struggle of the blindfolded unicorn mare tied to the chair before her.

“Hello?” the mare called. “Somepony there?”

“Mmm.” Gava leaned forwards, looking the mare in the eyes as she sliced the blindfold off with a talon. “Don’t you think that term is a little exclusive?”

The mare flinched, blinking as her eyes focused. A glint of recognition flickered over her face, followed quickly by fear—until it settled on stony defiance. “Gava. You have to know this is a terrible idea.”

“My reputation precedes me?” Gava smiled. She circled behind the mare with a few slow, measured steps. “I’ve heard of you too, Jester. Owner of the Laughing Cap. I’ve heard that every rumor in Leviathan Wakes passes through your bar with every bit close behind.”

Jester began to grunt in exertion as she struggled harder against her bonds. “Did they also—urgh!—mention what happened to the dozen ponies that—argh!—tried this shtick before you?”

“They did.” Gava came to a stop behind Jester. “You’re everybody’s friend, the master of the house! Hurt one hair on your head and all of Wakes will rise up to protect you. But those are just friends, and I’m in the business of bits and wits. Besides, I don’t have to hurt you. You know Sea Sabre, right?”

Jester didn’t offer any response, only continuing to strain against the thick ropes holding her back. Gava clicked her talons against the floor for a few seconds while she waited.

“The silent treatment, huh?” Gava mused. “Well, I’m sure you know her. Everybody that’s heard of me sure as hell has heard of her.” She circled back to the front of the mare, catching her gaze. “I know that she’s been through lately. Tell me where she went.”

Jester paused her struggles just long enough to laugh. “You know I can’t do that. We all have our reputations to uphold. I’ve never betrayed a patron before, and I’m not planning on starting now.”

Gava cocked her head. “I don’t think you want to go down this road with me.”

“What the hay are you gonna do, eat me?” Jester spat in Gava’s face before renewing her struggles. “This isn’t my first rodeo, featherhead. Urgh! As soon as I get out of these I’ll—”

She yelped, nearly falling out of the chair as Gava flashed a talon out and cut clean through the ropes holding her down. She looked up at the griffon, frowning.

“I’m sorry, were you saying something?” Gava quipped. “Well, you’re out. What happens now? Do you fight? Scream? Run? I do love a good hunt, although—”

Jester lunged forwards, aiming her horn like a spear at Gava’s eye. Gava opened her beak—dodging the clumsy stab—and clamped it down hard on the makeshift weapon.

Jester shrieked as a thick crack raced up her horn. For a solid ten seconds the two remained still like some macabre statue, the unicorn shaking and sobbing in pain as fish blood dripped down Gava’s beak and onto the cracked horn. She opened her beak, and Jester collapsed onto the cold floor in a shivering pile.

Gava took her time, pinning her prey under her bulk and leaning in close to unleash a piercing eagle cry. Jester shied away, her crying cutting out as she tried to raise her hooves to her ears.

“Look at me,” Gava said.

Jester didn’t move, and so Gava grabbed her by the throat and squeezed, forcing the unicorn to face her. The defiance that had once filled her bulging eyes had now been replaced with the same primal fear that Gava was so familiar with.

“Y’know,” Gava said, her talons starting to draw beads of blood from the pony’s neck, “I’ve heard before that cracking a unicorn’s horn will kill them, but you’re still alive.”

Jester tried to whimper, but the pressure on her throat kept her from pushing out anything more than a few choked sobs.

“This is what we’re doing now, alright? You chose this. I’m going to let you breathe, and you’re going to tell me everything you know about Sea Sabre’s visit here. I’ve got a lot riding on this, and I’m not in the mood for games. Well—” Gava shrugged. “—At least not this kind of game. You understand?”

Jester twitched her head in a weak approximation of a nod.

“Of course you do. So you tell me what I want, I’ll drop you on some roof somewhere, if you really still want to you can get some buddies together and see about carrying hell to my doorstep. If you deny me—” Gava’s beak twisted into a hawkish grin as she leaned closer. “—We’ll see just how many cracks it actually takes to shatter a unicorn’s skull.”

She gave her words some time to sink in while Jester began to buck and heave beneath her, face turning an off-blue. At last Gava released her grip, allowing the mare to draw great heaving lungfuls of breath.

Gava waited patiently for Jester to recover. After a few seconds of staring the mare down, she arched a brow.

“I’m waiting.”

“So you said there used to be a lot of monsters down here?”

Twilight blinked, the voice rousing her from her malaise. She at least had the presence of mind to click her transmitter back on. “What?”

Trails voice repeated itself in her helmet. “Didn’t you say this forest was full of monsters or something?”

“Oh, right.” Twilight took a quick glance around. They’d been diving for over half an hour now, with only the quiet ticking of the sub and rumble of the ocean currents to fill the void. Rainbow Dash had by then lost interest in the unflinching darkness of the viewport and was leaning against a corner next to Fluttershy. The tinny voices of Flint and Applejack talking off the radio could be heard faintly from the rear. Sea Sabre was staying steady at the controls, and Trails was looking at her expectantly from her terminal.

“Should we be talking about this over the radio?” Twilight asked.

Sea Sabre’s voice chimed in to answer. “It’s fine. I’m not going to chastise you for telling us more about what we’re going into.”

There was a click, followed by Flint’s voice. “You ever seen one of ‘em get shot before?”

“What?” Twilight shook her head. “We didn’t have guns in our time. And we didn’t kill things, either.”

“Why not?” Flint grunted. “Sounds like a good way t’get eaten if ye ask me.”

A shrill mumble floated into her helmet, and Twilight turned to see Fluttershy pushing herself further into Rainbow’s side.

“Hold,” Sabre said. “Trails, start scanning.”

“Roger that,” Trails said. The soft tinkling of magic became audible as her aura wrapped around the now-replaced control sphere. “Is there something wrong with her?” she asked. “I swear it seems she hasn’t spoken a word since I met her.”

“That’s cause she hasn’t,” Flint said. “Damn filly has been blubberin’ after Rainbow like a lost foal.”

“Hey!” Rainbow snapped. “Don’t talk about her like that!”

“Cut it for a sec, guys,” Trails said. “I’ve got… well—there’s some busy water out there. Feels like we’re coming up on a wreck. Three hundred degrees, Sabre.”

“Copy, adjusting.” Sabre’s hooves ran over the controls in a smooth curve, and a gentle rock passed through the sub. It was impossible to tell from looking at the darkness in the viewport, but Twilight had learned to recognize the feeling as a turn.

The sub’s lamps outlined a round shadow floating in the water. As they came closer, the shadow gained texture and depth, its color almost washed away by the powerful lights.

Twilight gasped. She could hear her friends letting out similar sounds of shock over the radio. “Is that—”

“Flint, head midships,” Sabre said. “I need torpedoes ready in case of hostiles.”

“Aye, boss.”

Another submarine was drifting past the viewport, its hull covered with dents and scrapes. There was a gaping hole torn into the side amidst a trio of deep gouges that could only be claw marks. The sub’s lights played over the armored legs of a pony. Twilight whimpered as she saw the fleshless spine that was all that remained of the legs’ original owner.

“What—what happened?” Rainbow choked out.

“Something breached that boat’s hull,” Sabre said. “Looks like at least one of the ballast tanks is still whole, if it’s floating here.”

Flint’s voice cut into Twilight’s helmet. “Ack, poor souls.” The sound of scraping metal was audible in the background. “Here’s t’hopin’ we don’t end up the same way.”

Rainbow leaned closer to the viewport, failing to keep her voice from wavering. “Th-those legs are armored. Do you think they saw whatever did that coming?”

“I’m getting nervous, Sabre,” Trails said. “I don’t want to be stuck down here with nothing but my suit, the oxygen inside, and whatever beast ate that pony’s barrel to keep me company.”

“Don’t be that way, Traily!” Flint chuckled. He let out a hefty grunt as he lifted something. “Ye’ll have all of us t’keep ye company, after all!”

“Quiet,” Sabre said. “Stay on your toes. Where are my torpedoes, Flint?”

There was a scraping sound, and then a deep click shook through the hull. “I’ve got two armed fer ye, boss.”

“Twilight?” Sabre’s voice was still the same stony calm as she eased the sub past the wreck and deeper into the darkness. “Any idea what did that?”

“I—” Twilight licked her dry lips and swallowed. “I don’t know. The Everfree never had any flying creatures in it and we knew next to nothing about what lived in its waters. It could be anything.”

“Well that’s helpful,” Trails muttered.

“What are you seeing, Trails?” Sabre asked.

“I hate to say it, Sabre, but I’m not even sure.” Trails scratched an armored hoof against the floor, snorting. “There’s this big field all over the seafloor. It’s eating up all my signals and keeps shooting out little bits of gibberish every which way. Maybe if I had some more time to figure it I could—”

“Let me look.” Twilight blinked in surprise as she realized she was standing up. The image of the half-eaten skeleton had burned itself into her mind, alongside far too many others.

Even with the armor, the skepticism on Trails’ face was clear. “You sure? You aren’t gonna blow my terminal up again, are you?”

“No, I—I know what happened last time,” Twilight said. “It won’t happen again.

“Let her on,” Sabre said. “See what she can do.”

Trails backed away from the terminal, gesturing with a hoof. “Be my guest, then, magic mare.”

Twilight took the few uncertain steps necessary to place herself before the pale white sphere. Hornbane. The ground up horns of her fellow Equestrians waited before her with all the patience of death. She took a deep breath to steady herself, then closed her eyes and reached out with her magic.

She sent a wide pulse out using her modified version of Trails’ spell, and her mind exploded with information. A thick field of ambient magic was splayed out on the ocean floor below them, which Twilight was quick to recognize as the Everfree. It felt different from her time—more sinister, somehow—but the core of it was the same as always. “We’re above the Everfree. That’s what you were feeling, Trails.”

“What else can you tell me?” Sabre asked.

Twilight’s muzzle screwed up as she sent out more focused spotlights of magic, fitting the returning flashes of data together in her mind. The forest was littered with wrecks. She sensed a dozen different metal alloys in hundreds of different places. Some were small like the submarine they had passed, but others were much larger—as large as airships. One particularly large shape even seemed to be made of dirt, stone, and minerals like a small island that had fallen into the ocean and become lodged into the trees. And as she looked, Twilight realized that the trees were somehow still alive. Even with no sunlight, with the pressure of miles of water above them, with the soil worn away by the ocean currents, the Everfree Forest had survived where so much of Equestria hadn’t. She made an on-the-fly modification to the spell matrix based on how it recognized the plant life, and couldn’t help but smile when her makeshift life-detection spell worked as expected. There was living fauna as well as flora in the forest, darting about beneath the cover of tree and ship alike, yet their movements were strange. As if they were hiding from something.

“There are shipwrecks everywhere, airships and submarines too. I think there’s even an island down here, somehow. The forest is still alive, too. Both the flora and fauna.”

“What?” Rainbow exclaimed. “How could an island be underwater?”

“Don’t ye fillies ever read th’ broadsheets?” Flint asked.

“Why would I do that?” Rainbow shot back. “Newspapers are boring.”

“Wait.” Twilight frowned, sending out another ping of magic. There was something else, moving swiftly above the bulk of the forest. It was twisting about like a snake as it moved, and wherever it went the forest beneath it grew silent and still. A shiver ran down her spine as the shape stopped suddenly, pivoting in their direction. “There’s something out there. Something big. Everything in the forest hides when it passes by, and it was just looking right at us.”

Trails laid a hoof on her shoulder, pulling her off the terminal with gentle urgency. “Give me a bearing.”

“Fifty degrees,” Twilight said. She took a few steps back to give the other unicorn room to work.

A few seconds passed as the glow of Trails’ magic wrapped around the terminal. Her body stiffened, and she shouted, “Evasive maneuvers! Sea serpent!”

Twilight yelped in alarm as the sub rocked to one side. She stumbled across the room, catching herself on Fluttershy and bowling the shivering mare over. “Sorry, sorry!”

She looked up just in time to catch the flash of a long, sinuous body twisting past the viewport. Barbed spines and sickle-like claws danced before the sub’s lights with a lunging, erratic rhythm, and then it was gone.

“Oh hay, that thing’s big!” Rainbow yelled, picking herself up off the floor.

“Quiet!” Sabre barked, her hooves flying over the controls. The sub twisted in place as the serpent’s movement shoved it aside—again throwing Twilight and her friends against the wall—before finally coming to a stop with nothing but darkness in front. “Trails?”

“Right in front of us, a hundred meters!”

“Flint!”

“Torpedo away!”

There was a dull thunk from the hull, then the whoosh of a propeller. A trail of bubbles marked the torpedo’s path as it swam into the darkness. Twilight held her breath as the crew watched and waited for the impact.

The explosion was little more than a low thud, but the following shockwave caused Twilight’s teeth to rattle in her skull. She was quick to catch herself on a wall this time, holding tight while the hull shook.

“Trails?” Sabre asked.

“It’s still coming!”

The serpent darted out of the darkness, giving Twilight her first clear look at the thing. Even in the whitewashed glow of the sub’s lights, the purple of its scales was visible, and a flowing gold-streaked orange mane and moustache draped from its head. Its eyes were sunken deep into its skull, with red trails stained into its cheeks like tears of blood. The scales on one side were torn and bloody, but it showed no sign of slowing as it opened its maw to reveal a set of pony-length fangs.

That was all Twilight saw before Sabre jerked the sub into motion, giving commands in a clean, crisp drone. “Flint, give me two proximity warheads, light fuse! We’re going down into the wrecks.”

“Right, boss.” The sounds of exertion and sliding metal leaked over the radio.

“There’s an opening thirty meters ahead and down!” Trails yelled, lacking Sabre’s calm. “Cracked airship hull!”

“Acknowledged.”

Rainbow looked from face to face as she clung onto the wall with two hooves. “What do we do?”

“Exactly nothin’ until yer told, little mare,” Flint said. “Torpedo ready, boss!”

Twilight screamed as the sub was shoved violently to one side, an ear-piercing, metallic screech echoing through the vehicle as the serpent tried to get to the ponies inside.

Again Sabre wrestled with the controls, bringing them into a slow spin. “Flint, on my mark!”

“Ready!”

“Three, two, one, mark!”

Another two thunks, and Twilight caught only a brief glimpse of the serpent and the two torpedoes sailing forth before they spun out of sight. She shut her eyes tight as the shockwaves rattled through the hull, fighting to keep her breathing controlled. Gravity shifted as the sub pulled into a steep dive, and she opened her eyes to see the gaping maw of a cracked airship before them.

Trails was hanging onto a bracket next to her terminal with both hooves. “Too fast, too fast!”

Twilight heard Sabre shout a strained, “Brace!” An instant later her ears were filled with the screams of twisting metal as the walls lurched and tossed her into the air. She flinched as her visor smacked against the roof, winced as the back of her helmeted head banged against the floor, and tried to blink the stars away as she listened to her own shaky breathing.

“Are we okay?” she asked.

She jumped at a distant metal bang, shortly followed by several more. With a groan she rolled onto her hooves and looked around. Her friends were lying dazed against the wall—Fluttershy cowering on top of Rainbow Dash—while Sabre and Trails were leaned into the braces set into their respective positions.

“Hull check,” Sabre said.

Trails’ magic hummed softly as she channeled it into her terminal. “I don’t see any breaches.”

“Nothin’ from visual inspection,” Flint said, stepping into the control room. “Where the hell are we?”

“In the wrecks,” Trails said. “What’s the plan, Sabre?”

“We’ll have to stick to the cover of the wrecks as long as that serpent is hunting us,” Sabre said. A trio of bangs and the deep crack of breaking wood sounded in the distance. She turned to Twilight. “Any bearing on that castle?”

Twilight grimaced at the mention of the dive’s primary objective. There had been some debate during the planning of the dive on what exactly to do once the forest was reached. Everypony had been reluctant to search it at random, but the notes they had found hadn’t offered any details on the potential location of Luna’s expedition. None of her friends were confident in their ability to find Zecora’s hut, and that left the Castle of the Two Sisters as the only notable landmark that anybody felt they could find.

Twilight tried to ignore the distant pounding from outside as she peered through the viewport. The lights were shining on a solid wall of aged wood, giving no hint as to their location. “If I could get my horn outside I could probably find it, but I can’t from here.”

“Very well, then,” Sabre said. “Flint, go outside with her.”

Flint’s hesitation was clear even over the radio. “I’m feelin’ a spot of unease at our continuin’ this dive, boss.”

“You have something to say?” Sabre asked. She didn’t look away from her controls, but there was a challenge to her voice that Twilight hadn’t heard from the normally impassive mare.

Despite the armor, Twilight could make out Flint’s body stiffen. “I just want t’make sure that our best interests are kept in mind, ma’am.”

Sabre paused in her motions. She turned to look at Flint, head cocked to one side. “How long have you been with me, Flint?”

Flint sighed, relaxing his posture. “Sorry, boss.”

Sabre nodded, turning back to her controls. “Your concern is noted. Twilight, are you ready to go outside?”

No. Twilight wasn’t sure if she would ever be ready to leave the safety of the sub. That sea serpent was still hunting them—the sounds of its search hadn’t lessened at all—and that was just the first creature they’d come across. Who knew what other monsters might be crawling around among the wrecks? But like so many other things since she’d woken up, it had to be done. She was the best pony for the job.

Rainbow gave Twilight a friendly bump. “Hey, don’t worry, filly! I’ll come along and watch your flank.”

“Negative,” Sabre said. “I’m not sending more than two ponies out, and one of them has to be someone I can trust to handle themselves in a fight.”

“What?” Rainbow scraped a hoof against the floor. “C’mon! I hate all this sitting around!”

Flint snorted. “I s’pose it’s a good thing nobody asked about yer feelings, then.”

“It’s okay, Rainbow.” Twilight was quick to put a hoof on the feisty pegasus before she could launch into an argument. “These ponies know what they’re doing, and we should trust them. I’ll go with Flint.”

“Good t’hear that at least one of ye has some smarts,” Flint said as he stepped out of the control room. “I’ll be waitin’ for ye in the lock, little mare.”

Twilight paused to speak with her friends before following him towards the aft. “I’ll see you girls soon.”

Rainbow’s answer came a couple of seconds late. “Just be careful, Twi.” The disappointment was clear in her voice, even with the metallic tinge lent to it by the helmet.

Twilight offered a weak smile, only to remember that her face was hidden behind the helmet. She settled for pulling them both into a quick, clunky hug instead. Fluttershy let out a quiet squeak as she was pulled in, but Rainbow returned the hug with surprising force.

Releasing her friends, Twilight joined Flint in the airlock and waited for him to close the inner hatch. She saw that the burly stallion had already fastened a pair of large guns to the flank hardpoints on his armor, though she didn’t recognize either one.

“Are those new?” she asked, pointing. She couldn’t help but steal a nervous peek downwards as the water level began to rise, her mind drifting to the nightmare of drowning. She was glad not to be going out alone this time.

“Neh. I’ve been haulin’ these ol’ gals about ever since me n’ Sabre took up divin’,” Flint said. He rolled his shoulders, adjusting the weight of the weapons. “That fancy repeater ye saw when we dug ye up is older—doesn’t work so well underwater. Sure was a treat t’feel that thump on my sides again…”

He trailed off as the airlock filled, leaving Twilight’s mind to toy with the new information. I wonder how long they’ve stuck together?

Bubbles rushed out of the airlock as the outer hatch opened, leaving the two divers poised on the edge of infinity. Sabre’s voice crackled into their helmets soon after. “Stick to redlight and magic only for sight, and keep an eye out for movement. Keep quiet and don’t delay. That serpent’s still out there.”

“Roger that, boss,” Flint said. “Alrighty, little mare, let me hop down first n’then—Ah, hell.”

Twilight wasn’t sure where it came from, but she had been overtaken by a sudden call—an urge to leap forth into the darkness and witness its furthest corners. She barely registered the expletive as her hooves made contact with the wreck beneath them. The dull thud of metal striking metal was a thing she felt more than heard, and a tentative grin inched onto her face. A thick cloud of sand was tossed up by the impact. She was outside.

A dull red light shone down onto her from above. She looked up to see the sub silhouetted by the colored spotlight cast from Flint’s shoulder. His voice barked into her helmet not half a second after.

“Head down!”

Twilight’s grin vanished as she rushed to comply with the command. The surrounding ocean muted the sound of a series of impacts to her side, but did little to quiet the bubbling screech that followed. She looked up, and caught sight of Flint wrestling with something in the middle of a thick cloud of raised sand.

“Oof!” A heavy weight smacked into Twilight’s side and sent her sprawling to the floor. She shrieked as the weight pinned her face down into the sand, smashing her visor up against a long-buried bone, and a hideous scraping echoed through her helmet. With a frenzied buck she shoved the thing off, and just managed to roll onto her back as it leapt back on top of her.

Jagged teeth flashed before her, snapping just inches away from her visor as she struggled to push her attacker away. All she could see was snapping teeth and sightless, milky-white eyes. Get away, get away! Adrenaline flowed through her veins as her instincts poured energy into her horn, shoving the beast away with a powerful pulse of magic.

For a brief instant the combination of motion and magic pushed the sand aside, giving Twilight a glimpse of her attacker’s appearance. The head was distinctly equine, with large eyes—filled with the milky white fog of blindness—and a short mare’s muzzle full of jagged, chipped teeth. Its mane was little more than a few wispy white cords, and its coat was a patchy collection of pale blue splashes against the ragged hide of its body.

The moment of clarity vanished as the monster lunged for her. She screamed, and as she shut her eyes in panic the heart-stopping sound of cracking glass rang in her ears.

Twilight’s blood ran cold as she felt cold water dripping onto her muzzle.

Her fears were confirmed when she opened her eyes to see the cracks in her visor. The beast was banging its head against her helmet, causing the cracks to thicken and spread. Water dripped down from where a single broken tooth had pierced the hardened glass just above her right eye. She heard voices shouting in her ear, but couldn’t focus enough to make out any words. “Just another unicorn that died alone and worthless.”

Twilight’s scream cut off abruptly as the drops began to run into her mouth. Again she pushed the creature away, and she caught sight of the fish-like tail that formed its rear end. With a twist of its fins the thing barreled itself headfirst into Twilight’s visor, causing a chip of glass to shatter onto her face.

The water was spraying onto her face like a broken faucet. A fierce yell passed through Twilight’s radio as Flint’s bulk crashed into the monster and carried it off of her. Twilight scrambled to her hooves, torn between the opposing impulses to suck in great heaving breaths and to clamp her mouth shut to keep out the water.

“Flint!” Twilight pressed her hooves up to her visor, keeping her head pointed down. “Do you—Help! What do I do?”

Sabre’s voice was the one to answer her. “Twilight! What’s happening?”

“Monsters!” Twilight choked out. “Visor’s broken! Water!”

“That’s it!” Rainbow said. “Hang on, Twi! I’m coming!”

“Hold her back, Trails,” Sabre said with unnatural calm. “Twilight, do you remember where the patch kit is on the suit?”

Twilight nodded, not even realizing that Sabre wouldn’t be able to see it. She shut her eyes tight and thought back to when she’d first tried the suit on. There had been a manual. She’d read it front-to-back. Patch kit! Patch kit is—right shoulder!

Her horn glowed as she tore the appropriate pocket open, ripping the small square of metal and adhesive out of its case. She spent precious seconds fumbling with the thing in her magic, trying to align it properly with her helmet, and finally slapped it into place. She curled up into a whimpering ball, her eyes glued to the spot of darkness on her visor. She didn’t feel the water sprinkling through the crack anymore, but she couldn’t stop the violent shudders wracking her body.

She heard a series of dull thuds from in front of her, and took a tentative look up to see Flint wrestling with the creature that had attacked her. His deep-voiced roar fed into Twilight’s helmet as he bore down upon the beast with all his weight. It was eerily silent as it struggled, the only sign of its panic being the thin stream of bubbles escaping from between its thrashing teeth.

Rainbow’s voice cut into the radio. “Let go of me, chump! Twilight! What’s happening?”

“I’m okay! I’m okay!” Twilight stumbled to her hooves, summoning a ball of light at the tip of her horn. She caught a quick glimpse of the inside of a collapsed airship hull, bulky debris ensuring plenty of space for anything to hide. A pair of the hideous creatures were laying still beside her, bodies bent at awkward angles. Her heart quickened as she saw the flash of movement—there were more of them, pulling back into the shadows. “There’s monsters! They’re all around us!”

“Stay close, Twilight!” Sabre said. “Keep your light on!”

There was a deep, wrenching crack from behind Twilight that sent a shiver down her spine. She risked a glance back to see Flint standing over the now still form of her attacker, his heavy breathing clear over the radio. “Fuckin’ seaponies.”

“Report, Flint.”

“Just what it sounds like, boss. Looks like seaponies lurkin’ about these wrecks. Twilight’s a little banged up, but she’ll live.”

“Roger that,” Sabre said. “Keep your eyes open and carry on.”

Twilight was standing frozen in front of the corpse, her eyes locked to the unseeing whiteness of its own gaze. “Sea… pony?”

“Well ye didn’t think everypony died or escaped, did ye?” Flint let out a ragged laugh as he caught his breath. “Worse than death, if ye ask me. Poor sons of cows.”

Twilight barely heard the exchange, her eyes still locked onto the corpse before her. Its patchwork fur was a pale aquamarine, but the second was a deep green, and the third a light beige. The slightest hint of a curving golden cutie mark was visible on the flank of the first body, the missing fur making it impossible to discern what the full mark might have been. An Everfree monster wouldn’t be born with a cutie mark, would it? Twilight felt her body trembling as a far more grim alternative came to mind. Did I know this pony?

Trails’ voice crackled into the radio. “C’mon, Flint, show some damn respect!”

“I don’t get paid for respect, Traily.” Flint did a slow turn, scanning the surrounding shadows with the barrels of his guns. The wreck once again looked as if it hadn’t been disturbed for hundreds of years. “I do get paid to shoot my gun, but it seems that ain’t much an option right now.”

“Shut up!” Twilight winced at her own words, feeling the tears as they clogged her vision. She jabbed a hoof at her face, voice rising. “My visor is cracked! There’s water in my helmet and more of those… things out there!” As she said this, she remembered that the suit had a drainage valve for just that purpose. She breathed a shaky sigh of relief as she drained the water that had pooled around her neck. “We should go back!”

“What the hell for?” Flint asked. “Ye want a new helmet? We didn’t have any room fer spares, so ye’d have to switch out with one of yer friends. Is that yer plan?”

Twilight opened her mouth for a sharp response, only to come to the infuriating realization that the big stallion was right. She knew she wouldn’t be able to bring herself to leave one of her friends with a cracked helmet, especially with the nearby threat of a sea serpent that might snap the sub in half if it found them. They might become like these horrible seaponies if they died down here. Of them all, she was best suited to survive without a helmet anyways—a bubble shield would serve as a substitute for a short time if necessary. She bit down on her tongue to hold back a frustrated groan.

“Fine!” she spat, her dark thoughts shoved aside by a swell of bitterness. “I’m fine. Let’s go, then.”

“Don’t ye worry, little mare,” Flint said, shining his light around as he walked into the shadows. “Those swimmin’ creeps ain’t comin’ anywhere near us. We showed ‘em what’s for. Just keep that horn of yers glowin’ and we’ll be fine.”

Is it too much to ask to at least use my name? Twilight followed after Flint with narrowed eyes, growing more and more irritated as she failed to still the shivers that wracked her body. Get a hold of yourself, Twilight! You’re not some weak little filly that needs to be led by hoof!

They made their way through the cracked ship in relative silence, with only the faraway bangs of the hunting serpent and the half-heard rush of watching creatures to keep them company. Flint led with confidence down waterlogged halls and up collapsed stairways until they came to a surprisingly solid wooden door.

“This should do,” Flint said, jabbing a hoof at the latticework window in the frame as his light clicked off. “Stick yer horn through there and let’s see what we’ve got.”

Twilight nodded, pushing past Flint without waiting for the larger stallion to make way. She dimmed her horn before stealing a peek through the lattice, but all she saw was darkness beyond it. “Are you sure that’s open ocean?”

“What’s it matter if it ain’t? Either I’m right or yer stuck with me ten more seconds. It’s a win-win.”

“Sounds like a lose-lose,” Twilight grumbled, but complied nonetheless. She closed her eyes, waiting to hear the sounds of the searching serpent in the distance before lighting her horn and sending out the necessary pings. She rushed herself—well aware of how her glowing horn would stick out in the pitch-darkness of the ocean floor—and was thankful that the castle’s massive stone form was easy to pick out among the bed of twisted metal and ancient wood. “Alright, I’ve got it. It’s southwest of here, on a short mesa. It can’t be more than an hour away.” Her report finished, Twilight was quick to pull her horn back into the safety of the wreck.

Trails was the first to respond. “That serpent will be on us the instant we hit open water.”

“We shouldn’t have to,” Sabre said. “We can use the wrecks for cover, and there’s a forest beneath if they aren’t sufficient.”

“A bit tight down here for a sub,” Flint commented, his heavy hoofsteps already starting on the return path.

Twilight lit her horn again and followed, glad to put some distance between herself and the open ocean once more. “I’m sure we can find a path. All these ships are barely holding together after so long.”

“I might have found one already,” Trails said. “You two will have to guide the sub by hoof for some of it, though. It’ll be a real squeeze.”

“By hoof?” Twilight glanced behind her and eyed the bobbing shadows cast by her hornlight as they walked through a windowless hall just wide enough for three stallions to step abreast. “You’re sure there won’t be any issue with the, uh… seaponies?”

“Weren’t we just over that?” Flint grumbled. He glanced back at her, and she could clearly hear the smirk in his voice. “Think ye’ll actually be of some use if they try us again?”

Twilight couldn’t help but gnash her teeth at the prodding. “I’d rather not get blood on my hooves, Flint.”

“Yer wrong in the head, girl,” Flint said, looking forwards again and pushing through the remains of a dilapidated door. “They ain’t even pony. Not anymore at least. Ye do ‘em a favor when ye cave their skull in. Ye didn’t have any issue when ye squashed that changeling back in Ol’ Canterlot.”

Twilight winced, vividly recalling the memory of warm blood on her face as she and her friends fled from the mutated changelings. She hadn’t killed that drone, had she? The details were hazy in her mind, and she could only remember the panic when it reared up before her and the rush of magic when she shut her eyes.

A flash of movement caught her gaze. She and Flint drew back as a group of four seaponies twisted down out of a hole in the ceiling. They formed into a snarling wall that left no space to squeeze past.

“We got more seaponies, Sabre,” Flint reported, squaring his stance.

“Roger that. Any issue?”

“S’ just four of ‘em. Stay back if ye ain’t gonna help, little mare.”

Five more seaponies crawled into the light behind them. “Flint, there’s more!” Twilight called as she pushed herself against his back.

The stallion glanced behind him, catching sight of the flanking predators. “Hmph. Clever girls.”

The seaponies charged, fanged muzzles open wide in silent snarls, only for the leading members to slam headfirst into the lavender barrier that Twilight erected around herself and Flint. The shield gave only a brief respite before the seaponies set into it with earnest, smashing head, hoof, and tail against the glowing surface in an attempt to get at their prey.

“Twilight?” Rainbow’s shout was loud enough to make Twilight flinch. “What’s going—”

Her voice cut out with a burst of static, replaced by Sabre’s calm tone an instant later. “Comm discipline! Situation, Flint?”

Flint grunted, his combat stance unchanged as the monsters continued to bang against the shield. “Looks like th’ magic mare’s summoned a shield fer us. I dunno how long it’ll last, but we’re safe for now.” He nudged Twilight with a hind leg. “Can ye keep this up n’ still move?”

Twilight answered with a few frantic nods. “We should be fine like this. I think I can hold it until we get back to the sub.”

“What about yer fancy teleport?”

Twilight grimaced. “I don’t know if I remember the sub’s exact location relative to us correctly. There’s no telling where we might end up, at least until I can see it.”

“Guess we’re hoofin’ it, then.”

Flint started forwards at a casual gait that would have been a better fit for a leisurely Sunday stroll than a hallway full of ponies mutated into ravenous predators. Twilight nearly fell onto her back as he pulled away from her, and was forced to scramble backwards a few steps before finally turning and catching herself.

“Some warning would be nice!” she hissed, keeping her head down as if it would make any difference.

“What, are ye afraid I’m gonna bump into yer shield and crack it?” Flint chuckled. “Sure seems to be holdin’ up well enough.”

The seaponies were growing more and more agitated as the shield pushed them further back into the hallway, and yet still they remained silent. Twilight felt like she was trapped inside some horrible painting, watching the monsters twist their bodies and roll their eyes and gnash their mangled teeth while the only sounds that reached her ears were the groans of the ship and her hoofs against the floor.

Until one of the seaponies, frothing at the mouth with its frustration, reared back and let out a shrill, keening wail that sliced like an arrow through the water.

There was a brief moment where everything was still, even the seaponies freezing up, their eyes bulging out of their skulls as—

—A trio of claws bigger than Flint burst through one wall, slicing down the hall and ripping a pair of seaponies in two. Two others narrowly dodged the bloodied claw, only to vanish in a cloud of blood as the sea serpent’s jaws snapped shut around them. A forked tongue slipped out and curled around the serpent’s lips as it turned one red-rimmed eye onto the shielded ponies.

Twilight screamed.

The serpent’s head slammed into her shield, sending both ponies tumbling backwards as the barrier shattered. A sharp pain lanced through Twilight’s mind as her horn tried and failed to keep the shield in one piece. Voices shouted into the radio, but she couldn’t make out any words through the haze of agony that hung over her.

Twilight coughed as she stumbled to her hooves, looking up just in time to see the flash of Flint’s guns. They were strangely quiet compared to his old repeater, but the furious roar of the serpent blasted clearly into her helmet as it pulled out of the hall.

Flint grabbed Twilight with a rough hoof, bringing his armored face up to hers even as he shouted over the radio, “Let’s move, little mare! Follow me if ye value yer life!”

She wasn’t sure if she answered the question, but the meaning got through to her. Follow or die. She gnashed her teeth and pushed herself into motion, stumbling behind as fast as she could as he galloped down what remained of the hall.

The pain in Twilight’s horn began to subside, and she caught the tail end of Flint shouting into the radio. “—found us and we’re comin’ in hot! Thirty seconds, Sabre!”

“Roger that! Trails, give me two torpedoes—Flint, Twilight, be ready to brace as soon as you board!”

They reached the end of the hall, coming out into a wide room filled with the shattered remains of benches and tables. An ear-splitting crack rang through the room as the serpent tore its claws through the ceiling. Its head came down right in front of Twilight, and she shrieked as she ducked under its snapping jaws.

Flint spared only a moment to glance back and ensure she was okay. “Keep up, little mare! We’re almost there now!”

Almost there, almost there! Twilight clung onto the words like a drowning sailor as she recovered from the last-second dodge. She followed Flint as he jumped down a ladder without hesitation, using her suit’s jets to slow the fall enough for her to land running. Another roar shook through the wreck, dislodging a crate somewhere above her. She was too slow to dodge, and the crate crashed into her helmet with a solid thunk.

For the second time in an hour, Twilight felt water spraying on her face. The patch had broken free of her helmet, leaving a breach even wider than the one it had covered. Within seconds the water was lapping at her muzzle, and Twilight was forced to hold her breath as she continued to sprint after Flint.

At last they came into the broken open room where the sub had taken refuge. It was positioned in front of a crack in the hull that looked just barely too small for it to fit through. Flint’s voice was muted by the water filling her helmet, but still clear. “Open th’ lock!”

No time for that! Flint came to an earnest stop under the sub, and Twilight barreled into him at full speed as her horn ignited. The searing pain returned as a blinding flash of purple ignited around them, and the two ponies collapsed into the mercifully dry aft section of the submarine.

“Ack, what the—” Flint rolled to his hooves, spending a precious second to take in his surroundings. “—We’re on, Sabre! Go, go!”

Twilight sucked in a deep breath of air as the water poured out of her helmet and pooled on the sub’s floor. Once she had blinked the water out of her eyes enough to see clearly, she looked up to see Rainbow Dash leaning over her.

“Twilight, are you alright?” Her voice was tinged with the metallic tone that indicated she was using the suit’s speakers instead of the radio. “That featherhead Sabre turned off my radio! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Twilight choked out, seeing Fluttershy watching from a short distance. “What—are we safe?”

Another serpent roar passed through the sub, and Twilight found herself rolling into a corner as it rocked to one side. She winced at the impact, thankful for the armor’s protection, only for Rainbow to fall on top of her. “Ow!”

“Heh, not safe enough, right?” Rainbow said, her voice cracking.

“Outta th’ way!” Flint said, pushing past where Fluttershy stood and rushing into the torpedo bay. “Get up front, Traily! I’ve got this!”

The rush of moving water was audible outside the hull, followed shortly by a bone-shaking boom and the challenging roar of the serpent. Star Trails stumbled into the room with a supporting hoof on the wall, her gaze locking onto where Twilight and her friends were piled up in a corner. “Oh, hey! Glad you could make it! Gotta go!”

The mare was gone as quick as she arrived, somehow keeping her stance as the sub rocked once more. Twilight clung desperately to a bulkhead as she clambered to her hooves, and Sabre’s terse voice came over the radio. “Brace!”

“C’mon!” Twilight said to her friends. “Let’s get to the front!”

The submarine couldn’t have been more than twenty meters long, but the tumbling journey to the control room felt like a mile. Twilight and her friends formed a pony chain for support, leaning against the walls whenever another vibration shook the hull. Small breaches in the hull sprayed water into a growing pool at their hooves, and Twilight was granted the terrifying image of she and her friends being found by some future salvagers, little more than bloated and half-eaten bodies.

At last they came out into the control room, giving Twilight a view of the sub’s surroundings. They were racing through what looked like the inside of a building tilted onto its side, weaving above and below chipped stone columns and dodging falling chunks of architecture. The sub was tossed into a sudden spin as a wayward block clipped them, only coming to rest when it impacted the far wall.

Sabre yanked at the controls, and bursts of steam jetted out of the sub, but it was lodged tight between the scenery. “Fuck!” She slammed her hooves against the wall in the first emotional display that Twilight had ever seen from the mare.

Trails was clinging onto the brace next to her terminal. “Are we stuck? Please don’t tell me we’re stuck!”

Rainbow leveled a hoof on the viewport, pushing herself back against the wall. “It’s coming, it’s coming!”

True to her word, the serpent was barreling towards them with hunger in its eyes, its forked tongue hanging loose as it began to open its bloody maw. With the sub stuck on one side, there was no angle to fire a torpedo. They’d been caught at last.

“Boss, what’s goin’ on?” Flint asked over the radio. “Give me a target, Sabre!”

Sabre continued to jerk at the controls, yelling her fury at the ship. Twilight took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she pushed herself up next to Rainbow Dash. I’m sorry, Princess.

She had failed. Her magic was too drained for any attempt at another barrier or an exhaustive teleportation to the surface, and the serpent had already proven it could break through her defenses. Here would be the end of Twilight Sparkle. And with her, the Equestria that she had known. She whimpered at the sound of a quiet thud besides her, and tried not to imagine how she would die.

“Stop!”

Twilight blinked, a confused frown coming to her face. Was that—

Fluttershy stood before the viewport, her helmet lying on the ground beneath her as she glared at the sea serpent frozen before her. It had halted just a pony’s length away from the glass, and even as its body trembled with hunger it seemed unable to pull itself away from the quiet mare’s disapproving stare.

“Just who do you think you are, mister?” Fluttershy demanded, leveling a hoof on the serpent. She launched into a harsh tirade without waiting for an answer, and Twilight was so busy watching her in wide-eyed shock that she didn’t even notice Flint coming up to her side.

“What th’ fuck?” Flint said, causing Twilight to yelp in alarm. “Is she lecturin’ that thing?”

“I don’t care if she’s seducing it!” Sabre spat, still wrestling with the controls. “We need to move!”

Twilight’s eyes flitted from Sabre, to Flint, to Fluttershy, and to the serpent still wrestling with its own body. It won’t hold for long. Fluttershy’s stare was a powerful thing, but Twilight could already see the serpent’s body twitch more and more as it began to break free. It was going to take more than a scathing lecture to save them.

She didn’t have much magic left, but it would have to do. Twilight lunged to where Trails was still watching dumbfounded as Fluttershy held the serpent in her grip, shoving her to the side.

“Hey, what gives?” Trails protested, coming out of her daze as she was thrown to the floor.

“No time, shut up!” Twilight shot back, throwing her magic into the terminal. She closed her eyes and sent a quick pulse out into the room around them. It was indeed a land building—perhaps a bank, if the thick cube of metal they’d gotten lodged in was any indication. Beyond the building she could sense the aged dirt and stone of the small island she had seen before, but she had no attention to spare on the question of its past.

Her focus honed in on the heavy marble columns that had remained steadfast within the old bank’s lobby for so long. The serpent’s twitching form was stretched out between four of them, lined up in the center of the room. Twilight clenched her jaw as she called on the dregs of her magic, shaping them into four chisels of telekinetic energy.

With a mourning shout, she released the spells. The whole building shook as the impacts sent deep cracks through the columns, tossing the sub free at the same time. Fluttershy let out a shrill yelp, and Twilight opened her eyes to see that the demure pegasus had fallen with the vibration, releasing the serpent from her gaze.

The serpent blinked, shaking itself as it asserted its dominance over its own body once more. It drew back like a spring, releasing a blood-curdling roar as it launched itself at the now free-floating sub, only to be crushed beneath the bulk of the two marble columns that fell from above.

A hesitant silence smothered the room.

“Is it dead?” Trails asked.

With one hoof Sabre angled the sub down. The serpent’s body lay still, sandwiched between the rubble of the two columns and the hard floor below. For several long seconds nopony said anything, and then Fluttershy broke down into tears.

“Oh, no! I didn’t mean to kill him!” she sobbed, burying her face in her hooves. “I just wanted him to leave us alone!”

Rainbow was quick to pull the other mare into a hug. “Hey, now, you did what you had to do.”

Flint stomped a hoof against the floor. “Is this Tartarus? Have I just gone fuckin’ insane? Is she mournin’ the damn beast after starin’ it down?”

Sabre took a deep breath, leaning back against the wall. She raised her hooves and gingerly removed her helmet, dropping it in the small pool of water that had covered the floor. A tired smile adorned her face. “Trails, damage report.”

Trails hesitated before climbing back to her hooves. “Well, uh…” She glanced around. “There’s at least a half-dozen leaks in the hull, the paintjob is probably completely ruined, and one of the torpedo tubes has collapsed. But we’re alive.”

Sabre nodded, her hooves returning to the controls. “Begin emergency repairs. Flint, go with her. Let’s find that castle.”

The sub gently rocked into motion, drifting away from the wall, over the still form of the sea serpent, and out into the open ocean. Trails and Flint both hesitated at the command, but stepped out of the control room after a brief exchange of glances.

Twilight stepped up to Sabre’s side, eyeing the mare warily. A small trail of blood was dripping down her face from some earlier impact, but the steel in her eyes was as hard as ever. “Are you sure we should keep going?”

“Why not?” Sabre asked as the sub’s lights illuminated the broken rope bridge that led up to the castle. “We have an objective. There was an obstacle in our way, and we removed it. The sub is operational and with repairs will be at no risk of critical damage.” She paused, fixing Twilight with her gaze. “Would you fight so hard, only to turn back within a hoof’s reach of your goal?”

“Are you kidding me?” Rainbow exclaimed, still holding the now quietly shivering Fluttershy. “What if there’s another one of those serpents out there? Or something worse?”

“Unlikely,” Sabre said. “That serpent wouldn’t tolerate anything else like it around here. It’s probably some relic of Old Equestria that’s been killing and eating anything it can find for centuries. An apex predator.” As she spoke, she eased the sub up to the yawning darkness beyond the shattered doors of the castle. “If there’s anything in that castle, it’s probably just more seaponies. We can handle those.”

“Don’t hurt them!” Fluttershy sobbed. “They can’t control themselves!”

Twilight grimaced as she watched Rainbow soothe the other mare. It was good to hear her communicating again, but Twilight wasn’t sure if it was worth the price.

Not sure what to say, Twilight settled for merely watching the castle interior as the sub drifted deeper into its depths. There was a part of her that wanted to go and comfort Fluttershy, to pull her and Rainbow into a hug and apologize for everything that happened until she ran out of breath, but she couldn’t bring herself to approach her fragile friend. Fluttershy was crying because she had hurt that serpent. She didn’t understand that it was something she had needed to do. Trying to explain it would just cause her more anguish.

The castle was in unusually good condition compared to everything else she had seen, but then it had already been a millennia old ruin in Twilight’s time. There were more holes in the walls, the tapestries had been worn down to rags, and in some places the roof had fallen in completely, but the halls were still recognizable.

“Any idea where to go?” Sabre asked.

“I’m not sure… wait!” Twilight had felt something, a barely perceptible tug at the edge of her senses, buried beneath the budding headache of mana depletion. She pointed towards the collapsed remains of a vaulted doorway that—if she remembered correctly—led to the throne room. “I think there’s something back there.”

Sabre nodded, guiding the sub closer to the pile of stone. “There’s no room for the sub to fit through there… we could probably blast a path through with the torpedoes.”

“No torpedoes!” Twilight shook her head. “There might be something fragile behind that rubble. I’ll use my magic to form a path.”

“Flint will go with you,” Sabre said. Her tone brooked no argument, and Twilight saw no reason to offer one. “You’ll need a new helmet.”

Twilight pulled her helmet off, turning it over in her hooves and examining the sizable gap in the visor. “We don’t have any spares.”

Rainbow raised a hoof. “You can use mine. Not like I really need it anyways…”

Twilight smiled as she accepted the offered helmet and locked it onto her armor. “Thank you, Rainbow. And don’t worry, there’s plenty of ruins left to explore.” Her smile faltered as the words left her mouth, and Twilight was thankful to have the helmet to hide her expression. Too many ruins left to explore.

Rainbow didn’t seem to share her thoughts, or at least she did a better job of hiding it. She waved Twilight off with a hoof, grinning. “I’ll be sure to take you up on that offer, egghead.”

Twilight nodded, turning to leave. She hesitated as she considered pulling Fluttershy into a tight hug, but again decided it would be better not to. Water splashed around her hooves as she marched to the airlock. “Did you get all that, Flint?”

“Ye, I’m on my way, Twilight. Hold yer horses.”

Twilight blinked. Did he just use my name? She shook her head, filing the thought away for later as she stepped into the airlock. Flint joined her soon after, helmet clipped onto his side.

He grinned at her as he grabbed the helmet and fastened it to his armor. “Am I weapons free, Sabre?”

“Weapons free,” Sabre confirmed.

“Alrighty then! What’re we waitin’ fer? Let’s find some salvage!”

“Is that all you think about?” Twilight asked, shooting him a sideways glare as water poured into the little chamber.

Trails’ voice cut into the radio. “He also thinks about shooting things.”

“Ye know me so well, Traily!”

Twilight couldn’t help but smile at the banter as the outer hatch spun open. “Just follow me, Flint.”

She jumped down to the stone floor below, bending her knees to help absorb the impact. Flint landed behind her not a second after, and the two waited a few moments to let the dust cloud disperse.

With her vision clear, Twilight wasted no time in approaching the blocked pathway. She could feel that tug again, just as small but now far more persistent. It was egging her on, calling to her like the final question on a timed test. After a cursory examination of the rubble and a few pings, she lit her horn. The ache that sprouted in her head was just short of painful, but she clenched her teeth and shoved it aside as she magically lifted the broken bulk of a pillar high enough to make a path. A pulsing pain drove itself into her skull as she strained to keep the pillar from falling back into place.

“Let me go first n’ check it out,” Flint said. Twilight nodded, but he was already pressing forth into the darkness beyond.

Twilight waited for the expected all-clear, but after thirty seconds it still hadn’t come.

Sabre’s voice crackled into the radio. “Flint, report.”

Twilight frowned, unease creeping up her spine. Had something happened to him? She never imagined Flint to be the type of pony that would ever go down so quietly. Any creature on the other side of the rubble would no doubt have been met by the flash of his guns and the roar of his fury the instant he saw it.

“Flint isn’t responding,” she said, straining to hold the spell. “It’s been nearly a minute now.”

Sabre’s reply was quick and curt. “Stay put. I’m coming down to investigate.”

“I don’t know if I can hold the path much longer.” Twilight flinched as a spike of pain raced through her. She was pushing herself too hard, she knew. She had overloaded herself when the serpent first broke her barrier, and then nearly again when she crushed it beneath the pillars. Her body needed time to recover and replenish its magic reserves, but that could take hours. She didn’t want to leave Flint stranded for so long if she wasn’t able to hold the tunnel long enough for Sabre to go through. “I’m going in.”

“You hold your position, Twilight!” Sabre barked. “There could be anything in there. Wait for me!”

The command in Sabre’s voice froze Twilight in place, but only for a moment. The pull was still calling at her, and made all the stronger by her desire to help Flint. There was a push as well, deep inside her, urging her to set caution aside and take a leap of faith. In a burst of motion, she broke into a gallop and passed through the makeshift tunnel just as the pillar fell down behind her.

Darkness. She was in total darkness, underwater. Her horn was still glowing, but the water seemed to swallow up the light not even a meter away. “I’m on the other side. I couldn’t hold the tunnel.”

“Damnit, Twilight! Trails, how are the repairs coming?”

“Almost done here, boss.”

“Horseapples!” Sabre cursed. “Step away from the rubble! I’m going to blast a way through.”

The sounds of exertion leaked over the radio just a moment before cutting out. She must be loading torpedoes herself. Not wanting to be caught in the blast, Twilight began to take tentative steps deeper into the room, following the persistent tugging on her mind.

Never in Twilight’s life had she experienced such suffocating darkness. It was oddly calming to her, and Twilight found her breathing becoming slow and rhythmic even as the darkness came closer. Was her hornlight dimming as she pushed herself further? It was hard to say, and Twilight found herself unable to care even as complete darkness overtook her.

She walked for nearly a minute like this, in the pitch black with only her breathing and the sound of her hooves to keep her company. Soon even they drifted into nothingness. Where was Flint? And where was the end of this room?

Twilight opened her eyes. She was laying in bed at the Golden Oaks Library, the dawn sunlight streaming in through the window. She let out a fearsome yawn as she crawled out of bed, levitating her brush to her mane and straightening the unruly hairs. She did this for several seconds, and then she remembered.

A terrible shiver ran down her spine. Wow, what a nightmare. All of Equestria at the bottom of the ocean, and in such detail! She shook her head as she set the brush aside. She would have to talk to Princess Luna about that. Or maybe she would write a letter to Celestia.

“Spike!” she called, poking her head out to look for her assistant. “Spike, I need you to take a letter!”

No response came. He wasn’t in his bed, either. “Ugh, where did that little dragon get off to?” she grumbled, starting down the stairs.

Pinkie Pie would probably know. And I can grab some breakfast, too! She yawned again as she stepped outside, a wide smile gracing her face as the warmth of the sun settled on her back. It was a beautiful day in Ponyville.

Humming a little tune to herself, Twilight Sparkle made for Sugarcube Corner at a lazy walk. She had all the time in the world.

Author's Note

Oh, good. It was all just a dream. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

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XXII: The Clash

“And then I said, ‘I believe in you! Do you believe in me?’ And Rarity held that wagon together all the way down!” Pinkie Pie made a series of dramatic fwooshing sounds as she waved her hooves through the air, pantomiming a wagon bouncing through heavy waves.

“Shucks,” Applejack breathed. “Ya mean to tell me that y’all were actually on the island when the thing fell?”

Rarity shuddered. “I still don’t believe that we made it out of there, even with Pinkie Sense.”

“Oh oh, and I’m so glad you guys got my invitations!” Pinkie cheered. “I didn’t realize that I had lost them for days! And Twi didn’t give me so many of those weatherproof envelopes that I can just pull them out of my mane, y‘know.”

“And it’s a good thing we found ‘em, too,” Rainbow said. She poked at the cake crumbs on her plate with a fork. “Twilight just about lost it when we realized the island was missing.”

“We all did,” Fluttershy added.

“Speaking of,” Applejack said, straightening up and scanning the busy garden with narrowed eyes. “Where did that filly go and get off to?”

“She said she needed some air,” Rarity said. “The poor dear seemed awful stressed.” She neglected to add that she had caused much of that stress herself.

“Air?” Applejack echoed. “We’re already outside!”

“My Lady?”

Rarity’s ears perked up as she turned to see Pontius approaching the table. He came to a stop a respectful couple steps away, dipping into a stiff bow that he awkwardly swept across the five seated mares.

“Ah, good evening, darling,” Rarity said. She turned to her friends with a wan smile. “Have I introduced you ladies to Pontius here?”

“You haven’t.” Rainbow leaned over the table with an excited grin. “But that doesn’t mean we didn’t hear you two are engaged!”

Fluttershy’s gasp cut off with a sudden gag. She thumped her chest with a hoof, spitting out a half-chewed wad of cake. “What?!”

Applejack gave Fluttershy a few hearty pats on the back as she turned a suspicious gaze on Pontius. “I had been doin’ some mighty wonderin’ about that myself. What’s the story here, Rarity?”

“Did you finally meet the stallion of your dreams, Rarity?” Rainbow squished her cheeks together into an exaggerated kissy face before breaking down into a raspy chortle. “I didn’t know you were into younger ponies.”

“Hey, don’t make fun of Pontisnick-snack-a-cracker!” Pinkie said. She bounced out of her seat and pulled the wide-eyed Pontius into a tight hug. “He’s a good pony!”

“Uh, t-thank ye, Pinkie,” Pontius said. “It’s a pleasure t’ meet my Lady Rarity’s companions.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Pontius,” Fluttershy whispered. She kept her eyes on her plate. Rainbow Dash had devolved into quiet snickering, while Applejack’s withering gaze remained fixed on the young stallion.

“Now now, girls, be nice,” Rarity said. She gave Pontius a quick, encouraging smile before turning back to her friends. “It’s a political arrangement is all. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal, huh?” Applejack arched a brow.

“Whoa, what? Political arrangement?” Rainbow floated out of her chair, dashing over the table to Rarity’s side and lowering her voice. “Do ya need me to beat him up for you?”

Rarity gave Rainbow her best sit-back-down-please smile. “Not now, darling.”

“So, later then?” Rainbow asked.

Rarity let out a polite little laugh and gave the pegasus a friendly little shove, speaking slowly through clenched teeth. “Everything is fine, Rainbow Dash.”

Rainbow cocked her head. “We’ll talk later.” With a lazy roll, she drifted back over the table and plopped back into her seat.

Rarity let out a breathy chuckle as she turned to Pontius, who was in the midst of a feeble attempt to pry Pinkie off of him. “So, Pontius, these are my charming friends.” She pointed to each in turn. “Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Fluttershy. There’s Twilight Sparkle, as well, though she’s not here right now. And this here is Pontius, girls. My fiancé.”

Pontius dipped his head to the mares as they were introduced. “Lady Rarity is a very graceful mare. She’s an example t’ nobility everywhere.”

Rarity saw the confusion on her friends’ faces at the word ‘nobility.’ Her pulse quickened as she realized that they weren’t yet aware of her newfound status as a Countess. Luckily, none of them questioned it outright.

A loud, rising bugle cut through the chatter of the crowd, drawing all eyes to the top of the manor’s stairs. An aging pegasus in a crisp orange uniform lowered the horn raised to his lips, drawing in a deep breath before throwing his voice over the yard with surprising volume.

“Duke Titus of Canterthusia, Fifth Lord of Pikes, Victor of th’ War of Nettle Aggression, Liege of th’ Eastern Counties!”

The pegasus dipped his head and flared his wings, stepping back. At the same time, Duke Titus stepped forwards to stand between the towering marble columns carved into the likenesses of his progenitors. A thick white robe embroidered with a pattern of glittering orange pikes was draped over his back, and a pike-and-shield had been sewn into the silk of the vest he wore over his polished breastplate.

“My ponies!” Titus called. “How do ye find th’ festivities?”

An appreciative round of cheers and hoof-stomping applause rose up from the villagers scattered over the garden. Rarity joined in with polite clapping of her own, shooting the reluctant Applejack and Rainbow Dash pointed looks until they joined in. Pinkie Pie’s ecstatic whooping could be heard over it all.

“Good!” Titus shouted, quieting the crowd. He passed his gaze over the party, a small smile on his face. “Ye have worked hard ‘n honest fer yer Lord, and ye deserve this reward!”

Again, the cheers. Behind her, Rarity heard Rainbow Dash saying, “But I thought this whole thing was Pinkie’s idea?”

“Pinkie’s work, too,” Applejack added.

Titus waved for silence, and the villagers were quick to comply. “I have an announcement t’ make today, and I expect ye each to celebrate twice as hard, and t’ work th’ same when ye return t’ yer homes.”

A nervous tingle passed through Rarity. She fluffed her mane with a hoof, her eyes darting between the ponies around her all looking up to their lord. She knew what the announcement was, of course. She had expected that Titus would have some motive for allowing Pinkie to throw her party besides friendliness. Once he told the world about the deal she had struck with him, there would be no going back. Word would race from village to village, to the ears of the neighboring nobility, across the island and from there across Equestria. Anybody who cared to know would learn that she was betrothed to Pontius, and she would be locked in.

“Ye all know my son, Lord Pontius. Some of ye have met th’ beautiful Countess Rarity, who recently aided him in capturing th’ very band of outlaws who have been harrasin’ ye for th’ past two months. And ye’ll be pleased t’ hear that those very outlaws’re sittin’ in my dungeon this very moment, wonderin’ if they should jump or not!”

He paused to give the crowd some time to jeer. Some of them glanced over to Rarity. She answered the looks with a thin-lipped smile.

“As of yesterday, Countess Rarity is betrothed to my dear lad Pontius! And ye’re all to return here within th’ month to witness their wedding!”

The crowd was louder than ever before. Rarity turned back to her friends and saw them each clapping and cheering with varying levels of excitement and suspicion. A few villagers approached her table with slurred congratulations and well-wishes, and she answered them all with a smile.

The cheers grew louder, rising in pitch, and for a moment Rarity looked up to Titus thinking she had missed something he’d said. She frowned as she saw him shouting at the soldiers that had been standing in front of the columns to either side of him. They were all crouched low, looking towards the gate.

Rarity flinched as the night was illuminated by a flash of light from the far side of the garden. Through squinted eyes she saw chunks of stone arcing through the air before crashing back onto the crowd, and it was at that moment that Rarity realized that the cheers hadn’t gotten louder. They had turned to screams.

She jumped to her hooves, trying to see the source of the explosion through the rush of the crowd. She caught glimpses of grim-faced ponies in green uniforms surging through a cloud of acrid smoke against the far wall, running down the fleeing villagers. Another explosion flared up, this time from the wall nearest her table, and she was knocked to the grass by the shockwave.

“My Lady!” Rarity spat grass out of her mouth, looking up to see Pontius hovering protectively above her. “We must get ye inside!”

“What’s happening?” Rarity asked, rolling to her hooves.

“Nettlekiss!” Pontius hissed. “Th’ coward mare is attacking us during a festival!”

Rarity shrieked as a chunk of stone fell onto the table her friends had been sitting around, shattering it like a toy. A sharpened speartip jutted out of the rubble. The ear-piercing report of gunfire skipped across the yard.

“Oh my goodness, oh my goodness!” Fluttershy was on the ground, hooves and wings over her face.

“C’mon, ‘Shy, ain’t time for panicking yet!” Applejack said, heaving the shivering pegasus off the ground. “Stay on y’all’s hooves, ya hear? We gotta get outta here first!”

A trio of soldiers in orange tabards broke through the thinning crowd at a gallop. Two of them veered off, charging into a group of approaching Nettlekiss soldiers, while the third came to a stop in front of Pontius. “My Lord, My Lady! Come with me!”

A persistent ringing lingered in Rarity’s ears from the most recent explosion. She clenched her teeth as she looked back to her friends. Pinkie Pie was helping Fluttershy along, while Applejack was in the middle of an argument with Rainbow Dash.

“Consarnit, Rainbow, will y’all cool your jets for once in your life?!”

“I’ve been training for this, AJ!” the pegasus shot back. “I’ve got to find Sabre—she has my wingblades. Don’t worry about me!”

With a powerful beat of her wings, Rainbow swept her tail out of the way of Applejack’s jaws and disappeared into the chaos of the night.

“Damn that filly!” Applejack turned back, meeting Rarity’s gaze. “Y’all stick together and stay safe, ya hear? I’m gonna go catch that mare and knock some sense into her!”

“Applejack, wait!” Rarity reached out, but the cowpony was already gone. With green-garbed soldiers closing in, she had no choice but to follow Pinkie and Fluttershy back towards the safety of the manor.

Gava floated in lazy circles from on high, watching as the throngs of partying peasants collapsed in the face of the sudden assault. Firebombs thrown from the deck of the Roc’s Screech twinkled like shooting stars as they crashed into the garden below, the flames catching onto carefully trimmed bushes and trees and turning them into towering gouts of fire.

She scanned the burgeoning battlefield with a veteran eye. The defenders were still trying to get into formation and escort wounded peasants to safety. It didn’t look like any of them had noticed the airship hovering overhead yet, even as it continued to bombard the yard. She spotted Sea Sabre and Flintlock cut off from Titus’ forces and carving an aggressive path back to safety. Her wingtips twitched at the thought of diving down to confront her old enemies, but she held back. She had other business to attend to first.

Titus stood on the steps, barking orders at his soldiers as an assistant approached with armor plates to supplement the breastplate he wore under his silk vest. He waved the armor off, beckoning instead for a pair of wingblades, and held his wings out while the deadly weapons were secured to his sides. He pushed the assistant back the moment he was satisfied, shouting some nonsense as he led a charge of six soldiers forwards into the melee.

Gava did one more lap above the battle before folding her wings in and allowing herself to fall. She angled herself towards the Duke’s back like an arrow, extending her talons for a quick, killing blow from above. Her beak twisted into a predatory grin as the wind tugged at her feathers, carrying the scent of pony blood. It was time for a hunt.

An orange-clothed soldier looked up at the last moment, face paling as he met her eyes. He shouted something indistinguishable over the roar of the wind and tackled Titus, pushing him away from the strike.

Gava scowled as her talons dug into commoner flesh. The soldier’s scream was cut short as she severed his windpipe and spine before rolling off of his collapsing body. She bounced back up in an instant, flaring her wings out to catch her mid-air and drawing her revolver.

The Duke let out a snarl as he turned to the fallen soldier. His eyes traveled from the fresh corpse to the killer. “Griffon!”

“Pony.” Gava lined her revolver up with his head and pulled the hammer back.

“My Lord!”

Gava grunted as a soldier slammed into her from the side. She rolled with the blow, using her weight to swing the white-coated pegasus mare underneath her. The mare’s wings flapped uselessly beneath the griffon’s weight as Gava stuffed her revolver into her belly and pulled the trigger three times in quick succession.

The mare went still. The smell of cordite stung at Gava’s senses. She turned around, leveling the gun for another shot, just in time to see Titus launch himself at her with a wordless roar.

He lowered his head, barreling past her outstretched arm as she pulled the trigger. Gava cursed, dropping onto her back and scoring her lion claws across the metal covering his belly before kicking him over her head.

The pegasus twisted mid-air, using his wings to ensure he landed hoof-first before throwing himself at her once more. Still on her back, Gava brought her gun around for a snap shot. The barrel spat fire, and a blossom of red burst from Titus’ chest. The impact threw him off balance, forcing him to the ground.

Both fighters scrambled off the ground. Gava aimed center mass and pulled the trigger, but instead of the booming report of gunpowder she was rewarded with the barely audible click of the hammer striking an empty chamber.

“Seems yer out of rounds, griffon.” Duke Titus coughed blood as he spread his stance. “Think ye can handle an old warrior without yer toy?”

Gava scowled as she slid the revolver back into its sheath. Looking around, she saw ponies of both colors clashing in isolated pockets, but none paying attention to them. “And you’re out of lives. There’s nobody left to save you.”

“My great grand-uncle killed a griffon, ye know.” The Duke said. The rain bounced off his bloodied armor with quiet applause, catching the flickering glow of the burning shrubbery. He took a step closer. “I’m lookin’ forwards t’ addin’ a trophy of my own next t’ his.”

“And I’m looking forwards to giving you a painful death,” Gava said. Taking a single step back, she crouched low to the ground and pounced.

The Duke stepped to the side, raising a wing to slice through her flank, but she was expecting as much. Gava snapped a wing open and twisted mid-air, talons digging into his exposed shoulders.

Titus pushed into the pounce with a grunt, slamming into Gava’s chest and knocking the breath out of her. She fell onto her back just long enough for the pegasus to get a cut in on her belly before one of her paws kicked out, the claws scraping across his face with a splash of blood.

He grit his teeth and stumbled backwards, trying to shake the blood from his eyes. Gava threw herself at him paws-first, throwing him onto his back as her lion claws sunk into his chest.

He glared up at her through the blood and rain as she lifted a taloned hand for the killing strike. She answered with a cocky grin. “Nice try, little pony.”

“Gava!”

Gava looked up, eyes narrowing towards the raspy voice that had called her name. The rainbow blur racing towards her was easy to pick out even in the chaos of the night, and she jumped off of Titus with a powerful kick, narrowly avoiding the rainbow-maned pegasus’ charge. “Can’t you wait just two seconds?”

Her eyes shot open as the pegasus reversed direction with a single flap of her wings. She spread her own wings, pushing herself to the side to avoid the second charge. “Didn’t you learn your lesson last time?”
The pegasus re-angled for a third charge. Gava braced herself to accept the blow, ready to use her greater strength and size in a grapple, only to squawk in surprise as her opponent twisted mid-air and delivered a rising kick to her jaw.

Stars burst in her eyes. The wind tugged at her feathers, and she wasn’t sure if she was falling or not. She let instinct take over and splayed her wings, slowing her movement. When her vision cleared, she was hovering a dozen feet over the battlefield with an angry blue pegasus in front of her.

“Okay,” Gava said, rubbing her jaw. “So you’ve learned something.”

“My name is Rainbow Dash,” the pegasus said, leveling a hoof on her. “And I’m gonna make you hurt.”

“That so?” Gava eyed Rainbow’s stance. Fiery, but far more controlled than before, and familiar. She began to fly a slow circle around the pegasus, turning side-on to hide the holstered revolver on her chest behind her spread wings. She pulled it free, holding it close, and flicked the cylinder open. “Sabre’s been teaching you?”

Rainbow grinned. The glint in her remaining eye made for a harsh contrast with the plain black of her eyepatch. “She has.” She spread her wings wide, showing off the polished edges of her wingblades.

“Those look pretty sharp.” Gava opened the ammo pouch next to her holster and began fishing out rounds. Hours of practice came into effect as she started slipping them into place without looking. Just keep talking a bit longer, Dyejob. “I’m surprised Sabre lets you play with them. You accidentally cut anything on your blind side yet?”

“Shut up!” Rainbow snapped. “You’re a monster. I’m here to put you down.”

“Not very creative, are you?” Gava asked. The third bullet slid into place. “You called me a monster last time, remember? When I ate your eye?”

Rainbow just growled at her. The hatred in her gaze was murderous, and for a second it looked as if she was about to attack. With six bullets in the cylinder, Gava flicked it shut and pulled the hammer back.

Rainbow’s ears twitched at the click of the gun cocking. A moment of alarm flashed on her face as Gava began to lift her arm. A strong gust of wind blew by as the rain grew heavier. Rainbow threw herself forwards just as Gava pulled the trigger.

The flash from the barrel lit the sky like lightning. Like lightning, Rainbow had closed the gap. Gava cursed as the pegasus slipped past her outstretched arm and raked a blade down its length.

She drew her injured gun hand back as she lashed out with her other talon. Rainbow danced away from the strike and Gava snapped off a second shot. She hissed as the recoil jarred her wound while the bullet went wide. “Hold still, you gaudy chicken!”

Gava closed the distance before Rainbow could recover from her dodge and lashed out with her talons. Rainbow pulled back as expected, and Gava pressed on. She knew that she couldn’t let up. The pegasus had almost been a match for her with neither training nor weapons, and now Gava didn’t even have the tight confines of an airship to throw her weight around. For the first time that night, she felt the thrill of uncertainty. The hunt had become a battle, and the adrenaline in her veins was rapturous.

She aimed the revolver in one direction, landing a solid kick on Rainbow’s wing as she dodged away from the anticipated shot. Rainbow grunted, thrown to the side by the blow, and dipped down just as Gava pulled the trigger again, parting her mane with the shot.

Rainbow swept in with one wing extended for a slash. Gava threw herself into the attack, locking her free talon around the pegasus’ neck and squeezing. “Gotcha.”

The pegasus lashed out with all four hooves as she struggled to breathe, but Gava had the reach advantage. She brought up her hind legs and raked her claws over her prey’s gut. Rainbow screamed, using her wings to twist herself around and break Gava’s grip. In the same motion she extended both blades, scoring a pair of deep cuts across Gava’s belly.

Gava pulled back, panting. She raised her gun for a shaky fourth shot, but Rainbow knocked her aim off with a powerful gust of wind from her wings. Combined with the recoil of the gun, Gava nearly lost her grip on it.

She let out a bitter chuckle as the hardening rain bit at her wounds. She clutched at her bleeding stomach with one hand while the other holstered her revolver. “Really? Fuck you.”

“You’ve still got some bullets left, don’t you?” Rainbow asked through clenched teeth. Her wings faltered, and she dipped dangerously before recovering. “I’ll let you shoot yourself if you ask nicely.”

Gava let out a shrill eagle cry as she launched herself forwards. Rainbow tried to dodge, but her injured wing was too slow. The two collided mid-air and tumbled to the ground in a ball of biting, kicking, and cutting.

“Oof!” Gava’s injured hand went limp as they fell onto an armored body, and Rainbow seized the chance to roll away. By the time Gava had regained her bearings and scrambled off the ground, Rainbow was already standing on shaky hooves.

Gava clacked her beak as her injured leg threatened to give way. I need to end this now. Movement behind Rainbow caught her eye, and she scowled as she recognized Sea Sabre and Flintlock galloping towards them.

“Rainbow Dash!” Sabre shouted, drawing Rainbow’s attention. “Get out of the way!”

“I’ve got this, Sabre!” Rainbow yelled back. She returned her eye to Gava’s.

Ah, fuck this. Gava spread her wings, thankful that she hadn’t taken any injuries to them. “You lucked out this time, Dyejob.”

Rainbow tensed as if ready to pounce, only to stiffen as Sabre called out again. “Rainbow, you’re in the shot!”

Gava pushed off the ground and threw herself into gaining altitude. A trio of shots from Flint’s repeater tracked her through the sky. The first two went wide, and the third clipped her hind leg. A hiss escaped her as she dove into a cloud of smoke.

She closed her eyes and held her breath, using her natural senses to angle herself upwards. She burst out of the cloud a few seconds later, dirty and wounded, but alive.

Scanning the sky, she picked out the shape of the Roc’s Screech pulling away. She frowned, looking down, and realized that the fight was already over. The last of Nettlekiss’ troops either turned tail and fled or threw themselves to the ground in surrender as Titus’ surviving defenders seized the burning yard. She let out a heavy sigh. Those little ponies sure went fast.

Despite her pride, Gava recognized that she was in no shape to keep fighting. She angled herself towards the Screech, replaying the fight with Rainbow over in her head.

A brilliant lavender light illuminated the sky, and Gava was pushed back by a sudden gust of wind. For a brief second, the rain seemed to abate before returning twice as hard. A sense of dread overcame her as she squinted into the light.

The Roc’s Screech fell out of the sky in two parts. Gava saw a ball of flickering purple and rolling black floating in the sky for just a moment before, with a flash, it vanished.

“Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, oh my goodness…”

Fluttershy’s panicked murmurs were barely audible beneath the sounds of battle outside. The crack of gunfire, clang of steel, and wet crunch of bones shattering underhoof all competed to be heard by Rarity’s ears. The fires laughed and cackled over it all, the flames spiraling ever higher as they claimed more and more of the garden.

The heat had begun worming through the stones, heating the air inside and sucking it free of moisture. Rarity winced as she rubbed a hoof over the stiff, dry hairs of her coat. She tried not to look at the dry blood baked into her dress.

“There must be some way we can help,” she said. “It doesn’t feel right sitting here while those ponies fight for us.”

“I-I’m okay w-with s-sitting h-here,” Fluttershy whispered. “I d-don’t want t-t-to fight.”

“We should be safe here for now,” Pontius said. Rarity turned to watch him pacing across the hall, his head fixed in the direction of the foyer. “My father’s soldiers are well-disciplined.”

A cry of pain echoed down the hall. Rarity climbed to her hooves, ears angled towards the noise. “Was that inside?”

The call came again, louder this time. “Somepony’s calling for help!” Pinkie said.

“We must lend aid at once,” Rarity said, starting forwards. “Come along, girls.”

“Lady Rarity.” Pontius stepped in front of her, face grim. “Ye should stay here where it’s safe.”

“Didn’t I tell you before that I don’t need coddling, darling?” Rarity asked. She tried to step around him, but he matched her movements. “Get out of my way, Pontius!”

“My Lady, I’m responsible for—u-uhm.” Pontius paused mid-sentence as his clothes began to glow a sparkling blue. With a smooth motion of her horn, Rarity picked him up by his clothes and moved him to the side.

“If you can follow behind and protect us, dear, I’d much appreciate it.” She gave him a wry smile before turning back to the source of the noise and following it down the hall.

She didn’t have to walk far. A pair of soldiers in torn orange outfits had collapsed in the dining room. One lay still on the polished floor, his breath coming in quick bursts. The other leaned over him, forelegs pressed over a wound in an attempt to staunch the bleeding.

“Oh my goodness!” Fluttershy crossed the distance to the two soldiers in a single winged bound. “What happened?”

“Shot in th’ barrel, my Lady,” the healthy soldier grunted. “Must of hit somethin’ bad, way it’s bleedin’.”

“Pinkie Pie!” Fluttershy shouted. “Go to our rooms and get my critter care kit, please!”

Pinkie zipped up to her side and snapped off a crisp salute. “Yes, ma’am!”

Rarity approached the injured soldier as Pinkie disappeared in a flash of motion. A jagged hole, rimmed with blood, had been torn in his scarred breastplate. “We need to get this off of him. Hold him still, dears.”

Her horn glowed as she felt over the soldier’s armor with her magic, found the belts securing it in place, and loosened them enough to pull the breastplate off. He grit his teeth and groaned as his wound was jostled.

Pontius cleared his throat behind her. “My Lady, is there any way I can help?”

Rarity glanced up. “Open the door to the foyer, would you, Pontius?”

Pontius gave her a puzzled frown, but complied. The indicated door opened with a quiet creak, and he jumped back with a yelp as a trio of large draperies tugged themselves free from their windows and raced into the dining hall, each glowing the soft blue of Rarity’s magic.

“See if you can find anymore wounded,” Rarity continued, returning her eyes to the soldier bleeding beneath her. The window drapings turned lazy loops in the air above her as she ripped a piece off and held it out for Fluttershy, who began to apply pressure to the wound. “Actually—” Rarity looked up once more. “Where does your father store his drinks?”

Pontius made for a cabinet near the head of the table. “He keeps them in—ah.” He stopped mid-step as the cabinet’s doors flew open and a line of bottles labeled in expensive scripts floated out.

“Thank you, dear. Now could you see about those wounded?” Rarity asked. Fluttershy cooed comforting words as she doused the injured soldier’s bloody gash with alcohol.

“My Lady, I cannot—”

“Right, of course, you can’t leave me. Silly me.” Rarity rolled her eyes and gave a slight shake of her head. She looked up to the uninjured soldier, who was staring at the dancing drapes above him in open-mouthed awe. “Excuse me, darling. Hello?”

The soldier blinked as if waking up, meeting her gaze. She gave him a sweet smile. “Thank you. See if you can find anymore wounded and bring them here. We’ll take care of them.”

After a few moments, the soldier licked his lips and straightened up. “Yes, my Lady.”

“And she said any more wounded,” Fluttershy added. She narrowed her eyes at the soldier, who took a step back. “I don’t care what color they’re wearing. Understand?”

“Uh.” The soldier looked to Rarity.

Rarity gave him a little nod, still smiling. “Do as she says, please.”

With a hasty bow, the soldier ran out of the dining room. Rarity returned her attention to her work, using her magic to fish the pieces of shrapnel out of the wound.

Fluttershy drew in a deep breath. “Pinkie Pie!” she bellowed. Rarity winced as her ears rang.

“Here!” Pinkie appeared beside them, laden down with a pair of saddlebags stuffed to the brim. “I picked up some extras along the way! I hope you don’t mind.” As she spoke, she pulled a miniature cupcake out of one bag and stuffed into the injured pony’s mouth. He struggled for a brief moment, swallowed, and then seemed to relax.

“Oh, thank you, Pinkie,” Fluttershy said. She accepted the bags with a blush, setting them down on the ground and pulling out a needle, some colorful pink thread, and a roll of band-aids with happy smiling butterflies on them.

Rarity, sensing that her part was done, stood back to give Fluttershy more room to work. She took a deep breath, content, and ignored the new bloodstains on her sleeves.

Pontius approached her, his voice low. “My Lady, the Duke wouldn’t approve of you helping Nettlekiss’ soldiers.”

“I’m not concerned with the Duke’s approval, Pontius,” Rarity said. She looked to the door to the foyer as a fresh pair of wounded limped into the dining hall. “Just stand guard, please.”

Whatever he said in response, she made a point of ignoring it as she went to help the new arrivals get situated. Time began to blur together as Rarity allowed herself to get lost in the work, doling out alcohol-soaked dressings to Fluttershy and clearing ruined clothes away from the injuries they hid. Pinkie kept spirits up as the hall grew more cluttered, sometimes disappearing for minutes at a time before returning with an unconscious soldier on her back. More and more green began to mix in with the orange, and soon there was a pocket of a half-dozen Nettlekiss wounded huddled in one corner, the healthiest of them leering out at the rest of the room like watchful guardians.

The sounds of battle outside grew quieter, the sweat soaked into her coat grew thicker, and the sleeves of her dress grew bloodier. Eventually Rarity decided to just rip the sleeves off her dress altogether. Clearly, the universe did not want her to wear dresses anymore. She made a mental note to begin phasing less constricting articles of fashion into her wardrobe. It was no wonder that Titus and Pontius seemed to always be wearing armor.

“Make way! Make way!”

Rarity looked up as a group of four older soldiers trotted into the hall, a heavyset stallion splayed over their backs. She rushed over as they set him down, fresh bandages floating behind her. “Where is he hurt?”

“His shoulder,” one soldier said. “He’s lost a lot of blood!”

“He was unconscious when we found him,” a second soldier added. “We failed him.”

Rarity frowned at the strangely servile tone in the soldier’s voice. Several already treated wounded began to gather around, all whispering anxiously among themselves, and she was just about to tell them to give her some space to work when she rolled the wounded stallion over and realized who it was.

Even unconscious, the fury on Duke Titus’ face was palpable. A wide bullet hole had been punched through his armor on one shoulder, and one side was so heavily dented that it was a struggle for her to remove it from him even with her magic. She spared a moment to examine the six thick gouges carved into the belly of the armor. They couldn’t have been caused by a pony weapon, could they?

Rarity’s blood ran cold as the trance she’d fallen into while working fell away, replaced by a sudden, focused clarity. Griffon claws.

It couldn’t be coincidence. Twilight had arrived that very day talking about the griffon bounty hunter that had harried her across the horizon since their separation. Gava had something to do with this sudden attack. Rarity was sure of it. And I let Twilight walk out there alone.

Rarity’s breath hitched. Her face felt numb. Stupid, stupid, stupid girl.

Pinkie Pie’s voice came to her as if through a haze. “Rarity? Are you okay?”

Rarity looked up to meet her friend’s concerned gaze. What about Applejack and Rainbow Dash? Had all three of them been captured while she was hiding inside?

A double door that led deeper into the estate was flung open with a great crash. Rarity turned, staring in confusion at the dozen green-garbed soldiers that swarmed through it. That’s odd, she thought. None of them are wounded.

Then one of them reared up, hooves clad in studded steel, and crushed the skull of the wounded Titus soldier that stood to challenge them.

Shouts of alarm raced through the room as ponies hobbled by bandages and burdened by wounds scrambled to grab discarded weapons before they were cut down. On one side of the room, the wounded Nettlekiss troops were suddenly turned on by the Titus soldiers they had been sharing their uneasy truce with. On the other, the disorganized and unequipped Titus wounded were cut down by the sudden rush of green-outfitted ambushers.

Rarity was bumped every which way by the crowd. There were too many for her to even hope to hold with her magic. “Pinkie Pie?” she called. “Fluttershy?” She heard a quiet mewl of a response, but couldn’t find the source.

She turned as something tugged on her dress, pulling her back. Pontius. “Get to the rear, my Lady!” he said, pushing her away from the collapsing line.

Rarity tripped over something, falling backwards. She didn’t look, but it was wet and warm. Any confidence that she had developed hunting bandits in the woods and fending off bounty hunters in corner stores evaporated as her senses were overwhelmed by the rising pitch of battle. She heard a giggle and caught a glimpse of Pinkie Pie leaping through the air. Something reared over her, and she flung it away with a wild burst of magic. There was a loud crack, and the room begin to fill with a thick white smoke.

Rarity scrambled to her hooves, sucking in the smoke as she gasped for air. It dragged across her lungs like sandpaper, and violent shivers wracked her body as she keeled over once more.

She rolled onto her belly, thinking to crawl to safety. The smoke wasn’t so thick low to the ground. Once she got out of the chaos she could find her friends.

Rarity heard a solid thud as something collided with the back of her head, and her world fell into darkness.

Ana took a moment to catch her breath as she came to an intersection between two hallways. She leaned against the wall, idly inspecting her charges.

Three Gifted, trussed up and ready for delivery. The gas had more than done its job, throwing the already chaotic dining room into a frantic free-for-all. And so she had slipped in and slipped out, quietly incapacitating her targets.

“What do you think?” Ana asked, looking to the yellow pegasus shaking like a leaf besides her. She’s even more adorable in pony. “Think we’ve got some more time before they start searching the place?”

Fluttershy said nothing, although she did manage to squeeze a high-pitched “Meep!” out past the rope gagging her muzzle.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Ana said. “There’s no time to waste. C’mon, pick up your hooves. We’re in this together.”

She tugged on Fluttershy’s lead rope, guiding her through the halls at a brisk pace. Behind each of them they dragged another pony. Pinkie Pie, covered in bruises and scratches but otherwise no worse for wear, hummed a little ditty past her gag as she was dragged across the floor in Fluttershy’s wake. Ana tried not to look at her, because everytime she did was met with a disturbing lack of disgust, betrayal, anger, or fear. Even with the extensive ropes hogtying her, Ana couldn’t help but feel like she was being played.

Lady Rarity was granted the pleasure of being Ana’s deadweight. With all the blood soaked into her tattered dress, there had been a moment where Ana worried that she had taken some grievous wounds during the battle, but a quick inspection had shown all the blood to be belonging to other ponies. And so Ana had secured a small mask soaked in chloroform to her muzzle and hauled her along. She certainly wasn’t going to risk the powerful mare waking up in transit, and the magic-nullifying ring passed down by her father was one of a kind.

“She’s a lot heavier than she acts, isn’t she?” Ana asked as she led Fluttershy through a dusty study.

She received another squeak in response.

“Oh, relax. I’m sure you’ll be fine. You seem like the sort to follow directions. Hold up.”

Ana raised a hoof, tugging the pegasus with her behind a crooked bookshelf. Fluttershy shivered behind her in almost total silence as they waited for the sound of passing hoofsteps to rush out of earshot.

“All right, let’s move.”

“Meep!”

Out in the open once more, Ana traced the steps she had plotted to reach her exit point. The halls were empty, every soldier caught up in the fight out front and every servant entrenched in the deepest bolt hole they could find. Leading the small team of Nettlekiss troops in the backdoor had been trivially easy. I wonder if any of them will make it back out?

“Look, almost there,” Ana said, looking to Fluttershy and pointing to the shattered window ahead of them. “Can you carry that weight, by the way?”

A collection of stuttered noises escaped Fluttershy’s mouth that sounded almost like a squeaky, “Uh huh.”

“Great. You go first, through the window here. C’mon.”

Bending down, Ana shouldered some of Pinkie Pie’s weight and helped push her through the window behind Fluttershy. That done, she pulled Rarity up onto her back and then climbed through. She landed in the garden next to Fluttershy without a sound.

“Let me tell you, Fluttershy, don’t get involved with nobles,” she said. She pointed towards the flickering red glow blooming around the far corner of the mansion. “See that? A few dozen dead at least, over some silly feud. They’re nothing but trouble. Be smart and stick to yourself as best as you can.”

“Eeeeee.”

“That’s the spirit. You ready to fly?”

It was at that moment that Pinkie Pie began to tremble. Ana arched a brow, turning to the mare. Every part of her was shaking to its own tune, moving with vibrations so powerful that she began to bounce up and down on her back.

“Hey,” Ana said. “Stop that.”

“Mmmm!”

Ana looked to Fluttershy. Whereas the pegasus had been frightened before, now she seemed to be stricken with terror.

“What is this?” Ana demanded. She looked between the two mares. “Do I have to knock you out?”

The rope came loose from Pinkie’s mouth, shaken apart with the strength of her shivers. “It’s a doozy!”

Fluttershy let out a shaky whimper. Ana frowned, looking around. She recalled a single occasion when Pinkie had referred to a doozy in the past tense. A faint alarm bell rang in her mind.

“Stand down, ya rascal!”

Ana didn’t even bother looking towards the newcomer. She flared her wings, slicing through the ropes that held her to her charges with the sharp claws on their tips, and crouched down to take flight. She pushed off with force, ready to turn on her assailant as soon as she gained the altitude advantage.

She squeaked as something yanked her back by her tail.

Ana hit the grass hard. An instant later, a hoof like iron was pinning her down. She looked up into the sweaty, freckled face above her. It growled down at her from under its hat.

“And just what do y’all think yer doing?”

Ana coughed. She flapped her wings in an attempt to gain leverage, but the iron hoof didn’t budge. At last she relented. She laid her head back and watched the stars twinkle as columns of smoke spiraled through the rainy night. “I could ask you the same thing.”

The pony easily recognizable as Applejack arched a sage brow. “Y’all’re trying to abduct my friends.”

“Would’ve gotten away with it if you weren’t hanging out in the backyard,” Ana shot back.

A quiet voice whispered something to the side. Both mares turned to Fluttershy. “D-d-did you find R-R-Rainbow?”

“She’s alright, ‘Shy. Despite her and Gava’s best attempts to make it otherwise.” Applejack shot Ana a meaningful glare.

Ana blinked up at her. “Don’t blame that on me.”

Applejack nodded over to Pinkie Pie, who was currently wriggling around the yard like an enthusiastic fish. “Y’alright, Pinkie?”

“Oh oh oh, here it comes!” Pinkie exclaimed. She bounced nearly two feet in the air. “The doozy!”

She landed back on the ground with a squeal. She lay still. The rain pitter-pattered off of Applejack’s hat.

“Is it over?” Fluttershy asked.

“Oh,” Pinkie Pie said. She looked to Ana, her voice suddenly somber. “Sorry.”

Meeting Pinkie’s gaze, Ana was overcome with a sudden wave of dread. An instant later, a flash of brilliant lavender lit the night sky. The bushes whispered their alarm as a wave of hot air rolled over the estate. Ana looked up and, for the second time in her life, she felt her world drop out beneath her.

“Oh, fuck,” she whispered as she watched her home fall out of the sky in two parts. “She broke the ring.”

Get up, little flower.

Twilight groaned as she blinked her eyes open. The grain of the wooden floor she was lying on slowly came into focus. What happened?

We were overpowered. You should not have held us back.

A pulsing pain lingered in Twilight’s horn, matched by a queasy nausea in her gut. She turned her head to look around and groaned as both maladies redoubled in strength. What did you do to me?

I would have saved us, just as I saved us from the creature of fire. It is your cowardice that brought this.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and turning her senses inwards. Her magic had built up inside her. It had been summoned for a spell and built up in preparation only to be forced haphazardly back down with nowhere else to go. It still skulked about within her, leaving her with a sickening case of arcane indigestion.

She opened her eyes and tried to lift a hoof to her horn, only to be stopped by the chains tying her legs together. She winced as the links cut into her fetlocks, jerking her hoof back.

Twilight went to tug on the chains with her magic. Nothing happened. A spike of panic drove itself into her heart as she tried again. She put more power into the third attempt, her breath coming in quick gasps, and noticed a white glow coming from her horn in place of the usual comforting lavender.

Right, the ring. She remembered the brief glimpse she’d gotten of the runes engraved on it. Dampening enchantments.

We could break it. Together, no prison can contain us.

Twilight grit her teeth, deigning not to dignify the suggestion with a response. Instead she focused on her surroundings, moving slowly so as not to cause her nausea to act up. She was in a bare wooden room with a sparse spread of hay scattered over the floor. A steady swaying sensation in her gut told her that she was in an airship, and the creak of the wood reinforced the conclusion. Rain could be heard bouncing off the hull.

She rolled over. A narrow wooden hallway waited on the other side of a set of sturdy bars. A thin unicorn stallion with a cool blue coat was seated within, his eyes fixed on her.

Several seconds passed while Twilight waited for him to say something. She ended up speaking first. “Where am I?”

The stallion arched a brow. “You don’t recognize it?”

Twilight frowned. She scanned the little prison once more, searching for anything familiar, but came up blank. “Should I?”

“Heh, interesting.” The stallion fished a sugar cube out of a cup by his side and popped it into his mouth. “You nearly killed me here, along with everybody else on board.”

Oh. “This is Gava’s ship.”

“There you go.” The stallion’s head bobbed in a slow nod.

The silence returned. Twilight grunted as she tried to twist out of her chains, but they held her firm.

“You’re a lot weaker than that cowpony.”

Twilight glared up at him. Set us loose! the Other demanded. We will show his corpse true strength!

“What?” the stallion asked. “I’m just stating the facts here.”

“Why are you doing this?” Twilight asked, returning to her futile attempts at escape.

“Doing what?”

“Holding me here! Working for that monster, Gava. Any of it!” Twilight huffed as her anger began to bleed into sorrow. She let her head fall back to the floor and tried to stifle her tears. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“Who says it’s about you?”

Twilight sniffled, looking at the stallion through teary eyes. He leaned back and rubbed a hoof on his chin.

“Okay, maybe it’s a bit about you,” he admitted. “But you’re taking it too personally. Gava likes chasing things. That’s just in her nature. You’re a hard catch, and that gets her excited. She’d lose interest the instant she caught you.” He shrugged. “The rest of us are just kinda following along.”

In a quiet voice, Twilight asked. “What’s your name?”

The stallion arched a brow. “Topgallant.”

“My name is Twilight Sparkle,” she said. “Why are you doing this, Topgallant?”

Topgallant blinked. He regarded her with some surprise for a moment, and then broke out into a quiet chuckle. “What are you trying to do, charm me? I’m not going to let you out because you asked what my name is in a sincere tone.”

Twilight could feel the Other’s irritation as it rolled about inside her. End this charade! Give yourself over to me, and I will grant us freedom over this worm’s corpse!

Twilight closed her eyes as her lips curled back into a snarl. Shut up! I don’t need your help!

You needed it to save us from the creature of fire.

You killed her. I would have rather died.

Bold words from the little flower that summoned me to save her when faced with death.

Her snarl turned to a growl. “You’re wrong!”

She blinked her eyes open, instinctively raising a hoof to cover her mouth as she realized she had spoken aloud. She winced as the chains pulled her leg back.

Topgallant cocked his head. “Honestly, I’m not even sure how to react to that.”

Twilight turned on him with a glower. He looked back with a curious bemusement that only fanned the flames of her outrage. After several seconds she spoke. “Where are my friends?”

Topgallant didn’t say anything. He just held her gaze as he slowly pulled another sugar cube out of his cup and popped it into his mouth.

“Answer me!” Twilight screamed. She struggled in vain against her chains, filling the hall with the sound of the jingling links and her own impotent snarls.

“Why should I?” he asked. She paused, her breath coming in heavy gasps as her ears angled towards him. “You’re my prisoner, and my job is to watch you. What reason could I possibly have to answer your questions?”

He is wasting our time. Why do you insist on letting this mongrel toy with us?

Twilight grew still. She stared at him with as much hatred as she could muster. The steady beat of the rain against the ship’s hull grew stronger. “If you don’t answer me, I’ll—I’ll break out of here and m-make you.”

Topgallant just continued to watch her with that same cool gaze. He licked his lips before picking out another sugar cube.

Twilight clenched her jaw. She assumed that Gava’s ship didn’t have multiple brigs, and therefore her friends couldn’t be stashed elsewhere aboard it. They either weren’t captured yet, or had been and were being taken off to Celestia knew where. Perhaps they were fighting even still. Perhaps Applejack had finally taken one wound too many, or Rainbow Dash had pushed things too far. Her pulse began to quicken as she imagined Gava killing a cowering Fluttershy just to make a point, or Rarity laying in the grass in a blood-soaked dress, or Pinkie Pie’s cry of shock when she ran out of luck.

You understand, don’t you, little flower? It’s the only way.

It’s the only way. How could she sit there on the cold wood of her cell, straining against iron chains with hooves used to idle days beneath open books? Could she look her friends in the eyes and tell them that she had done everything she could, when all she had done was ask her jailer, one of the very ponies that just spent weeks tracking her across Equestria, to explain himself?

Yes! Release the magic inside us!

She closed her eyes. The fading ache in Twilight’s horn resurged as she began to draw upon her magic. Basic magic safety taught that one should never call on magic without a plan for how to use it, and Twilight cast this aside. She did not know how she would use the magic, but she knew that she needed it. Her friends needed it. Princess Luna, still deep asleep aboard the Argo, needed it. And wherever Celestia was, she would need it too.

Who are you?

I’m your mentor. I’m your guide on the path to our true potential.

“Uh, what are you doing?”

Twilight opened her eyes. She was still in chains on the ground, but a pale white glow from the base of her horn was flickering around the room. The glow began to flash brighter, highlighting the concern in Topgallant’s eyes as he stood to regard her.

Please don’t hurt my friends.

We wouldn’t dream of it, little flower.

The ship groaned around her. Twilight’s horn burned with energy as the white glow was joined by a high-pitched keening wail that seemed to come from every direction. Hot, sticky tears dripped down her cheeks.

Topgallant shoved himself back against the far wall, sugar cubes bouncing everywhere as he knocked his cup over. “What the fuck!”

Twilight turned to meet his wide eyes. “Run.”

He nearly tripped over his hooves as he rushed out of sight, voice raised in a shaky shout. “Everybody get off!”

Twilight could feel it now. The Other stretched and grew inside her from the small ball of darkness that had lingered in her gut ever since she first drew its strange magic inside of her. It filled her whole body out, reaching down to the tips of her hooves and the end of her muzzle. It touched every part of her, soaking her in its chill warmth. It stopped only at the base of her horn.

She marveled at the strength of the barrier. The ring on her horn would have been a powerful item even in her own time, and a small part of her was saddened by its coming fate. She wondered how Gava had come to acquire it.

Nothing can match our power.

She was a giant trapped inside a paper prison. With a thought, it was brushed aside.

The ring shattered.

The Other’s gleeful laughter echoed in her mind as it reached the tip of her horn.

The blinding white glow turned lavender, broken only by red-tinged tendrils of blackness.

Author's Note

You've suffered a terrible fate, haven't you?

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