A sigh escapes your lips as you settle against the stone wall of the classroom and face the only doorway, hand wrapped firmly around your pilfered shotgun. It’s an old thing, the gun in your hands. Littered with scratches and dings from use, yet still fully functional. It’s some sort of Winchester pump action with wooden furniture and a flashlight you had taped to it. The rollmarks on it had faded from use, leaving you only with speculation as to the model. In the end, it’s not that important, you suppose. The poor soul you looted it from had already started to decay when you found him.

You let out another sigh as the sun dips lower and lower into the sky, casting long shadows in the trashed elementary school. Everything with even a semblance of value has long since been taken, leaving only a few bookshelves with scattered children’s books and a handful of desks in the dirty, glass littered room.

A hand reaches into the bookshelf you sit next to, returning with a worn copy of “Space Brat”. The pages are dog eared and the inside of the cover has doodles of aliens and a chuckle-worthy “Bobby is a jerk!” in marker.

‘It’s fascinating’, you silently muse as you flip through the short book, ‘that objects can wear their history and tell another story.’

The little book in your hands had to have passed through hundreds, maybe even thousands of other, smaller hands. The pages and colorful cover are faded, but still legible. Inside is a simple story about a bratty alien on a planet of snooty, unfair adults. It’s definitely something that would appeal to a young child.

You read only a handful of pages before the light streaming in through the broken window fades too much to be of use, leaving you in the dark.

“Stay? Or find a less exposed room?” You ask yourself, pondering.

After a moment, you stand low and begin to move, off to find a room a bit more secure than this one. If your luck holds, you might even find something worth keeping. As you move, you make sure to avoid the windows.

*Crack! Cra-cra-crack!*

“Shit!”

You drop to the ground and frantically press yourself against the closest wall, keeping still as the staccato of gunfire rages somewhere close. The echoing inside the classroom makes it impossible to tell where the fighting is coming from other than ’outside’.
*Cra-cra-cra-cra-crack!*

A scream sounds from the direction of the fight.

…*Crack!*

In hardly a minute, the low howl of the wind is the only sound, letting you sit and steady your heart in relative peace.

You gulp, letting your painful grip in your gun ease just the slightest amount. You do notwant to be near the windows now.

Getting up again, you murmur a prayer and keep moving, moving slowly past the classroom into the dark hallways.

The halls are just as lifeless as the classroom and even more silent. The lockers on the walls are all torn open, leaving papers and books scattered around on the dirty linoleum floor. Along the walls are the happy, educational decorations one would expect of a school, but all of them are covered in dust, and some are torn down. Almost all the decorations torn down were once covering now barren electrical plugs, each stripped for copper. You would have clicked your tongue in distaste if you didn't do the same thing often. Even now, copper is still a valuable trading item.

It’s all a grim reminder that nothing is sacred anymore. Not even places where kids congregate.

You slowly stalk through the halls, each footstep, and breath deliberate to keep quiet. The moonlight pouring in from the windows thankfully gives you just enough light to see, letting you conserve your flashlight battery. A few times you passed another classroom, each one empty but with broken windows like the first one. They're passed over, much to your frustration. You even passed the cafeteria and kitchen, but a cursory look dashed any hope of resupplying your dwindling food.

“Picked clean…” You mumble to yourself, peering into a supply closet only to find nothing. “This may have been a bad idea…”

Slowly you trudge on, finding nothing until your path brings you to a larger hallway with a lopsided map on the wall.

“Gym just ahead, eh?”

You look down the widened hallway that quickly turns into inky shadow the further in it gets. You’ve no idea what scavenge-worthy things you might find in a gym, but surely it’s worth a look. It’s not like you’re doing anything else, after all.

Slowly, you slink into the dark, trying to suppress the goosebumps that run up and down your body. There’s something distinctly foreboding in the air, something like a weight on your shoulders that just can’t be shaken. You keep your shotgun held forward in a tight grip with a finger held over the trigger, ready to pulp anything that might pop out of the gloom. For a moment, you entertain the thought of turning on the flashlight on your gun, but toss the idea since this isn't an emergency.

The gym doors come into sight thanks to the thin slivers of bright light that escape between the cracks in the doors. There’s nothing special about the doors themselves, but the light is rather curious. Maybe the room has a skylight, letting the moon shine down?

As you draw closer though, a smell that you’ve become all too familiar with recently invades your nose with its face-twisting stench.

Death.

“Just fantastic...” You grunt and pull your shirt over your nose, forcing you to breathe in the still awful, but the much more tolerable scent of the dirt and sweat that clings to you.

Shifting your shotgun to one hand, you gently push open the right door and walk inside.

The instant you did, you wish you didn’t.

The moonlight that streams into the large gym and through the door cracks isn’t from a skylight, but a huge hole in the roof and ceiling. Just under the huge hole is an even bigger crater with blackened wood floors peeled back around its lips. What’s scattered around the crater stops you cold.

Faded red. Faded red everywhere.

Broken bodies. Mangled forms.

Small forms...

All over the room. Hundreds of milky eyes stare in countless directions, unseeing. Some still have surprise frozen on their faces. Some, terror. Others don't have faces any longer.

Your gun rattles in your trembling hand and hot tears sting your eyes as the horrid scene burns itself into your memory. You take a shaking half-step backward, only to step on something and nearly trip over it. Looking down, you only barely choke back a whimper.

It’s a small hand, fingers splayed as if pleading for help. Help from anyone.

The owner of the hand is nowhere to be found.

Your heart pounds so hard it feels as if it’s going to explode, sending you off with the rest of the unfortunates here.

You turn away from the carnage, only for your sight to land on something that turns your despair into world-ending fury.

A large spray painted tag on the wall, bolding proclaiming “CRIMFA WAS HERE”

“Anon!”

Something takes hold of your shoulder.

You whirl around with fright, your fist lashing out with all your strength. A split second before your fist connects with the aggressor’s skull, a translucent bubble of purple stops your attack. A loud *Crack!* sounds and sudden pain flares in your knuckles.

“A-anon! Please wake up!”

‘Where… Where do I know that voice?’

You blink a few times, the gymnasium and reek of decay fading away in favor of a small, rustic bedroom. Just to the side of your bed, a purple bubble covered in spider-web cracks stands, and inside is a frightened looking winged unicorn.

‘Wait... Winged unicorn?’

“Twilight..?” You blink blearily again as everything comes into focus. “Where the hell am I?” You ask, your free hand shooting to your pocket and wrapping around your Colt 1903.

The alicorn lets the damaged barrier around her fade, making your arm fall and smarting hand hang limply. She takes a moment to compose herself before answering. “You’re in my guest room,” she starts slowly, her pinned back ears perking back up. “Or I suppose this is just your room now. Remember?”

The memories of the day prior slowly filter into your mind. The bridge, meeting the ponies, seeing magic, all if it. “Ahh. So yesterday really happened?” You ask yourself more than her, pondering. “Did I hurt you with that swing, Twilight? I’m sorry about that, it’s just reflex.”

‘I really want to ask how you made it past the lock on the door, but the answer is probably magic.’ The thought makes you suppress a groan.

The answer seems to worry her before she buries the reaction and answers you. “No no! Not at all.” Twilight insists with a shake of her head. “I put up a shield in time and I’m just fine. I came here because, well…” your equine host scuffs the wooden floor with a hoof. “I heard you tossing and turning so I thought you were having a nightmare… That doesn't happen often, does it?”

“I was, and it’s not often I have one,” you admit, standing up and taking stock of yourself. “Thanks for snapping me out of it.”

‘Ugh, my clothes are gunna need to be washed soon.’

Twilight gives you an openly curious look, her ears, and posture forward.

“...And I’ll keep what the nightmare was about to myself, for now, thanks.”

The alicorn nods agreeably. “Okay. If you ever want to talk though, I’ll always have an open ear,” she gently tells you.

You just nod as you stretch, making your back let out a satisfying series of pops and loosening the kinks that one gets sleeping in a plate carrier. “So, I need to take the papers that Princess Celestia gave me to the mayor, right?” You ask, already knowing the answer. “I hate to impose, but could you show me the way if you have time?”

Your question earns you a beaming smile from the mare. “You’re not imposing at all, and I’d love to help, and I even planned on escorting you!” she exclaims cheerfully. “Let me finish up the mug of coffee I left downstairs and we can go. Do you want some?”

“Coffee, eh?” you ask, scratching your chin. “Sure. I haven’t had any in ages. I’ll be down in a moment.”

The chipper pony smiles and trots out, closing the door behind her with magic.

Now alone, you sit on the bed and hold your head in your hands, trying to stave off both a hellacious headache and the chills the nightmare left you with.

“I’m not sure what’s worse. Being here, remembering all that, or the fact that both are real,” you mutter sardonically. “If this isn’t the shittiest hand I’ve ever been dealt…”

You stand back up and pull your still holstered Glock 20 from under your pillow and belt it on, then pull the backpack sitting next to your bed onto your back. A grunt escapes you when the extra weight makes all the aches and soreness from the day prior that much worse. Your boots are the last thing to go in, and your gloves are simply left in your pack

When you finally trudge down to the kitchen, you find a happily humming Twilight pouring a fresh mug of coffee from a metal, stovetop coffee pot. The room quickly fills with a rich aroma that makes you feel a bit more alert from the smell alone.

The alicorn looks over her shoulder with a smile. “How do you like your coffee?”

“Black is good,” you reply, holding back an achy groan when you settle into a chair at the table.

Like yesterday, you get a look of surprise for some odd reason. For some reason you simply cannot pin down, the ponies would give you funny looks over the strangest things.

“Are you sure?” She asks, picking up sugar dish and a carton of cream by the pot in her telekinesis and giving both a shake. “I can add whatever you’d like, and I’m sure I can figure out mochas or lattes.”

“Black is good,” you repeat simply. “You seem well versed in mundane living for a princess, Twilight. If I may ask, what spurred such a lifestyle?” You ask, watching the hot mug floating towards you carefully.

“For a princess..?” Twilight asks with a confused tilt of her head, setting both your mug and her down as she does so. Then it seems to hit her. “Oh! Whoops! I sometimes forget that I’m a princess now,” she says with a giggle and a flap of her wings.

‘A princess now?’ You wonder. “Were you not always a princess?”

“No, actually. I was a normal unicorn before I ascended to an alicorn and was awarded princesshood,” she says proudly, hopping into a chair. “I finished one of Starswirl the Bearded’s incomplete spells, one that’s gone unsolved for millennia, and that’s how I ascended.”

“Hmmm…” You hum into a sip of hot and rich coffee. “That just raises more questions. Is princess not an inheritable title? One the daughter of a king or queen would be given?”

“It is in most places,” Twilight replies, seeming greatly pleased with the conversation. “But in Equestria, it’s a bit different. All the alicorns are given the title Princess and share their power. No one is greater than the other. Princess Celestia tends to take charge and rule, however. None of us truly want to overturn that, so it works out swell.” She pauses to take a large gulp of her mug with a satisfied sigh. “I know I certainly don’t have the experience to lead the nation like she does. She’s been Equestria’s sole ruler for the last thousand years,” the alicorns says, her baby-doll eyes shining with adoration. Then she blinks. “Well, actually she had help when Cadence ascended, but it was all minor things, like what Prin- Er, Celestia gives me now.”

“Can just any alicorn be made into royalty?” You ask, now genuinely interested. “That seems risky, doesn't it? What if some alicorn without Equestria’s best interests in mind shows up?”

Twilight’s mouth opens to answer, but she shuts it again to rub her chin with a hoof, expression one of deep thought. She’s thinking long enough for you to take another sip from your mug. “I… Don’t know what would happen then,” she finally admits, her visage troubled. “That’s a really good question. I imagine she’d be barred from taking power, but I don’t want to assume. I’ll have to ask…”

“You said you ascended into an alicorn because you completed an age-old spell?” You ask, getting a nod from the pony. “Interesting. Is that the requirement to become an alicorn? Or is there more to it than that?”

“Much more to it than that,” Twilight replies, holding a hoof in front of her mouth and clearing her throat. You would later learn that this is a tell for her ‘lecture mode.’ “Nopony is really sure what the exact requirements for becoming an alicorn are, other than the approval of another alicorn. But that alone isn’t enough. The most common way is through some sort of incredible feat. Princess Celestia and Luna ascended when they defeated Discord, the spirit of chaos, thousands of years ago.”

‘They beat a spirit of chaos without the power of being alicorns?’ You silently puzzle. ‘Either spirits must be weaker than I would guess, or I really need to be more wary of these princesses that I first thought, and that’s saying something. Can nothing be easy?’

“Cadence, my sister-in-law, managed to ascend after she stopped a witch doctor from taking over her home village. She did so even after facing discrimination for being a pegasus orphan in a mainly earth pony village, and claimed to love both her home and the ponies there.” Twilight continues, heedless of your internal thoughts. “As you may have noticed, each alicorn embodies something that they can influence and draw power from. Celestia is the sun, Luna is the moon, Cadence is love, and I am friendship!” she finishes, glowing with pride.

You just nod along like the explanation made sense. “Fascinating…” You murmur genuinely, lacing your fingers and resting your chin on them. “Though, I’m a little unclear by what you mean by ‘embody’. How does one embody a celestial object or an idea like friendship?”

“That’s a whole other topic by itself,” Your hostess says, pausing to down the last of her mug. She lets out a satisfied sigh after. “Besides a talent, a pony’s magic usually aligns itself to an element found in nature either temporarily or permanently. In either case, it’s easier to cast spells and perform actions that relate to that element, even if it’s non-magical in nature. How great the bonus she gets varies depending on the degree of attunement. For example…”

You lean forward in anticipation as Twilight ponders to herself for a moment.

“Say a pony has an average alignment with fire,” she starts, “then she would have an easier time casting spells related to fire or even starting one with flint and steel.”

As she talks, Twilight’s horn lights up, making you lean back when a tiny, holographic mare with a matchstick mark appears on the table. The little mare smiles up at you before starting a tiny holographic fire in an equally tiny holographic pile of logs with a hunk of steel and flint. “There’s even a quiet clink clink! then a fwoosh!

You can't help but blink incredulously at the cartoonish little thing.

“But say that a pony has a non-standard alignment thanks to her cutie mark,” Twilight continues on, making another holographic mare on the table, this time with a cute little safari hat and saddle bags. “Like survivalism or another like an idea or concept that can’t be easily tied to a traditional element. The pony would get access to a wider or more powerful set of abilities because of her abstract alignment. All she has to do is find a way to tie what she needs back to her talent, and a survivalist should know how to start a fire so…”

The safari hat mare pulls out her own bit of flint and steel, then starts a fire in another pile of illusionary logs with the same ease of the matchstick mare. The safari hat mare gives the sour looking matchstick mare a cheeky grin before both fade away.

“Back to the first part of your question, alicorns always have a powerful alignment to non-standard elements,” the purple alicorn says. Her horn lights up again, and more small illusionary ponies appear on the table.

The first is a serene Princess Celestia, who stands on a sun symbol

The second is a stern looking blue alicorn, who you guess is Princess Luna. She stands on a white crescent moon symbol with smudgy black around it.

The third can only be Cadence, considering her bright pink color and smile most would associate with a lovey individual. Under her hooves is a crystal heart symbol.

The final one is Twilight herself, standing on the same starburst mark as the one on her flank.

“Each one of us holds the highest possible attunement for our affinities, being “Sun”, “Moon”, “Love”, and “Friendship” respectively, and each one complements our special talents.”

“What’s the difference between a special talent and an affinity?” You ask, “Both seem distinct, but they also seem to interact a lot. And what determines an affinity, exactly?”

Twilight gives you a confused tilt of her head before an “Ohhh.” finds its way out of her lips. “Right. Alien. I sort of forgot there for a moment,” she says sheepishly. “You're following along very well for somepony without magic.”

You take a long gulp of the cooling and nearly forgotten coffee before answering. “Even if I can’t use it, my kind still had the idea of magic. It all exists as fiction or elaborate tricks to wow crowds.” You lean back in your chair with a chuckle. “Magic in fiction back home varied from simple thought activation to rules so lengthy and complex that you need a rulebook open at all times. I was a bit of a nerd back in the day and played a caster more than once during some tabletop games, some of which had really arbitrary magic rules. I guess I’d get it a bit faster than the average guy because of that.”

Looking back down to Twilight, you frown.

She’s giving you a narrow-eyed look that’s somehow both disbelieving and awed as if what you said is somehow unbelievable. You’re not sure if the little tail flicks she’s doing are from agitation or something else.

‘I did not just offend her talking about DnD of all things, did I?’

“Are you alright, Twilight? I didn’t say something offensive, did I?” You ask worriedly.

The mare quickly wipes the expression from her face and replaces it with a wide smile instead. “No no. Not at all, Anon. I was just thinking is all.”

“That’s some pretty intense thought…” you mutter.

Her ears swivel to face you. “What was that?”

“Nothing, just thinking aloud,” you wave her question away. “Anyway, you were talking about the differences between talents and affinities and what determined an affinity?”

“I was!” She agrees happily. “Honestly, an affinity is largely random, but they are influenced on some level by a special talent and the pony’s race. Getting the two to work together can take some creative thinking if one or both is vague. Take Applejack for example.”

A tiny, translucent Applejack appears on the table in a flash of magic.

“Her talent is farming, and her element is honesty. With a bit of work around and out of the box thinking, she can use her talent and abstract element to an enormous complimentary degree,” the princess explains.

A tiny sapling appears next to the small orange pony. Just to her right, another small mare and a sapling materialize. Both rapidly tend their own small plants, but the cow-pony’s sapling grows into a full, healthy apple tree much faster. It takes nearly a minute to Applejack’s twenty seconds for the nameless mare’s tree to stop growing, and it’s a pitiful sight compared to the orange pony’s mammoth apple tree.

“To Applejack, nothing beats ‘honest’ hard work, and her talent and magic element work in tandem when she has the mentality, doing more than what each could accomplish alone or without her innate magic. This is why her orchard, Sweet Apple Acres has enjoyed so much success since she took over,” Twilight says, voice full of pride for her friend.

You just ponder the implications for a moment.

‘So depending on the element and talent, a pony can induce a reality-altering effect as long as they can even sort-of connect the two? Jesus Christ… This is getting insane. How many more powers can these little equines pack into themselves?’’

“Now, a pony’s special talent is separate from her magic affinity,” the lecture continues before you can lose yourself to your thoughts. “A special talent is what a pony does best in life. Be that art, sports, farming, or something less defined like being good at making others smile or being kind.”

The purple alicorn smiles to herself for a moment, then continues speaking. “Once she’s realized that talent, that pony’s cutie mark will manifest in an act of spontaneous magic. Celestia’s is moving the sun, Luna, the moon, Cadence’s talent is mending bonds and fostering love, and mine is magic in general. I’m the largest deviation among the alicorns since, as you remember, my affinity is friendship and not magic.” The purple princess finishes happily.

‘Magic in general?’ You think to yourself. ‘If Twilight has the highest possible attunement to just magic in general, what does that mean? Is she the strongest? The most versatile? How the fuck does a ‘friendship’ alignment work with that? That tells me almost nothing.’

The cheer on the face of the mare across from you lessens a bit when she takes in your unsure face. “Oops, I’m just raising more questions, aren’t I?” She asks, letting her holographic princesses fade.

“A few,” you admit with a small grin. “But I’m getting the feeling that some serious self-study is in order anyway, so It’s not a huge deal. I thought the marks on your sides were just body art like tattoos, not something so meaningful.”

Twilight matches your grin at the phrase ‘self-study’. “So what’s a tattoo and why aren’t they as meaningful as cuties marks?” She asks with a cute tilt of her head.

Before you can answer, the alicorn glances towards the window. Then her eyes widen to unnatural proportions when she sees the position of the rising sun. “Sweet Celestia how long have we been sitting here talking?!” She yells in alarm.

You recoil, not expecting the outburst. “Maybe thirty, forty minutes tops? Not terribly long…”

She groans and hops out of her chair, doing an impatient dance on the tips of her hooves and filling the room with a rapid ClipClopClipClopClipClop

“I told Mayor Mare that we’d be there at seven AM sharp!” She exclaims, looking frustrated with herself. “It’s got to be at least seven-thirty now. We’re so late! I got sucked into our conversation and lost track of time!”

“Twilight, I think it’ll be okay. It’s still early in the morning after all, so I doubt that there’s going to be a queue or anything.” you try to reassure her as well as taking note of the familiar way time is told. “We just need to calmly explain what happened and we’ll be fine. The Mayor can't be that unreasonable, right?”

Her nervous little dance slows to stop. “She’s not…. Actually, Mayor Mare is rather fair…”

You smile and stand yourself. “See? No need to fret.”

‘That, and I don't want to know if panic casting is a real thing. Not this close, at least.’

“But..”

“But nothing, Twilight,” you say gently as you test your bounds again. “It’ll be fine.”

The mare sighs but relents with a small smile. “Oh, the irony. You’re perfectly calm and I’M the one freaking out.”

“Well, I’m going to have you at my side, so I see little reason to worry,” you freely flatter with a small smile.

She responds as you hoped, with a pink face and bashful grumbling. “Well, let's not be any later than we already are…”

“By all means, lead the way.”

Author's Note

EDIT
Holy hell the formatting on this was bad. FUcking hell knighty can you not break the site every update?