Darkened Shores

Chapters

01: An Idle Inquiry
02: The Story
03: A Little Vacation
04: The Hive
05: The Trap
06: Deception
07: The Lifeless Wood
08: Distrust
Peaceful Interlude
09: Spark and Tinder
10: Host of Shadows
11: Vigil
12: An Interesting Life
13: Stargazing
14: A Promise
15: The Storm
Lyral Thredony
16: Loss
17: Landfall
Dissonance
18: Adrift
19: Bright Eyes
20: Fateful Hour
21: Movement
22: Still Life
23: Fall of Canterlot
24: Sunset
25: Into the Fire
26: Chaos
27: And Harmony
28: The Brink
29: Fracture
30: Nightmares
31: "Damn Us All"
32: "To Corruption And Blackness"
33: Ghosts of the Past
Final Interlude
34: Daybreak
35: Broken
Prologue: Aether's Vigil
Celestial Interlude
Magic's Requiem
Epilogue: Voices in Darkness

01: An Idle Inquiry

“Go! GO!” Twilight Sparkle shouted at her friends as they sprinted through the streets of Canterlot. The solid stone beneath her hooves began to tremble, threatening to pull her hooves out from beneath her. Everyone stopped and braced themselves as the shield surrounding the city crumbled in a roar of shattering magic. When the shaking stopped the paniced friends kept running, only now their staccato hoofbeats were punctuated by the high-pitched, insect-like whine of changeling wings hurtling towards them. Black creatures crashed into the streets and sidewalks all around them, snarling and hissing as the ponies ran by.

At the crest of a flight of stairs Twilight skidded to a stop, and her friends piled against her from behind. They stood in front of a wall of changelings. Fangs glistened pearly white against shiny onyx carapaces. There were so many, and they stood between Twilight and Canterlot Tower, where the Elements of Harmony were kept. They had to get through somehow, but Twilight was filled with a hopeless dread. She knew there was no way to win this one.

“Looks like we’re gonna have to do this the hard way!” Rainbow Dash sounded confident as she slammed her hooves together and darted forward, but the pegasus pulled up short in confusion as she wound up facing an exact copy of herself. Twilight felt sick. She knew what would happen. Twilight stepped out of the way as her friend was flung across the concrete. “How did sh. . .?” Dash gasped in a sick sort of awe as several more changelings flashed a sickly green, reappearing as exact replicas of Rainbow Dash, grinning from beneath identical, spiked manes.

“They’re changelings, remember?” Twilight said.

“They’re changelings, remember?” Chorused half a dozen Twilights in unison. It made the fur on Twilight's neck stand on end. She shuddered.

“Don’t let them distract you! We have to get to the Elements of Harmony! They’re our only hope!” At that, Twilight Sparkle swallowed her fear and launched herself into a sea of changelings. It was an absolute nightmare. She found herself confronted with images of her friends, and they all tried to hurt her. She wound up kicking an Applejack in the face, and punching a Rarity across the jaw.

She turned and blasted a Rainbow Dash with her horn, purple magic catching the changeling and flinging it far away. At least, she hoped it was a changeling. A Fluttershy pounced on Twilight’s back, and Twilight knew that couldn’t be the real Fluttershy. Twilight rolled with the other pony’s momentum and kicked the Fluttershy into another pony.

Twilight spun and found four other Twilight Sparkles leaping toward her. She blasted two out of the air before she found herself slammed onto her back, kicking desperately to keep their teeth and hooves at bay. One pinned her arms as the other leveled its horn at her neck, tensing for a vicious headbutt. Twilight rolled her hips up and bucked the other Twilight in the face with both hind hooves. She heard something snap, and she felt a moment of nausea as she contemplated the damage she’d just done. She didn’t hesitate to keep up the attack, however. As fast as thought, she lifted the other Twilight off of her with magic, trapping her in the faint purple light of her telekinesis spell.

Then, Twilight remembered her friends. They might already be hurt, or. . . or something worse. With a snarl and an effort of will, Twilight slammed the imposter hard into the ground once, twice, three times, and then let the stunned creature tumble onto its back. She pounced on it, and with an entirely different spell peeled its glamour off like the skin of an orange, revealing the dazed and dizzy monster underneath.

Twilight leapt off the changeling and turned to face a sea of imposters. Her horn burst into a purple light so bright it was blinding. She grit her teeth together, planted her hooves, and with a cry sent out a shockwave of force that radiated out in all directions, peeling back her friend’s fake faces and exposing the lies beneath. When she finished her spell, she stood, head drooped and panting in front of a sea of black, snarling, fanged grins. Not one of her friends was to be found. Not one speck of color remained. They were gone.

Twilight felt something precious inside of her snap. All of her fear turned instantly to hatred and boiling anger. She no longer wanted to make it to the Elements of Harmony. She only wanted to hurt these creatures that had invaded her homeland, destroyed her city, ravaged her brother’s wedding and done something terrible to her friends. She wanted to kill them. And as they leapt for her throat, Twilight Sparkle began to do exactly that.

With searing magic she burned them to ash and cinders. Pain radiated through her skull while her horn glowed like a furnace. And as part of her felt a savage and alien glee at wielding her power, another part of her was horrified and sickened at what she’d become. Now the hatred and fury of her attackers was mirrored exactly on her own face. Now. . . now the changelings could mimic her perfectly.

Twilight woke up gasping from the nightmare, barely choking back the scream of horror she’d been about to make. It was late, the only light filtering through the window shed from a thin sliver of moon, and what few stars managed to peek from behind the clouds. The castle was quiet, with the exception of soft breathing scattered around the spacious and elegant room the Princess had offered them for the night. She lay very still, exhausted as much from the craziness of the day as from her nightmare.

Her brother’s wedding had ended up being a joyful occasion, and Twilight had downed more sarsaparilla than she’d really meant to. Her head was pounding. She hadn’t slept much the past few days anyway, and what little sleep she could get was troubled. Twilight spent some time mentally reviewing books long known to her, and reciting poems she had memorized in the hopes of lulling herself into slumber. Not that it helped. Her mind raced along for no reason, quite alert, almost as if afraid to let go of the present. Or afraid to slip back into her dream.

Twilight began listening to the sounds of her friends around her. Applejack snored quietly in the closest bedroll to her, next to Spike. Rarity made the occasional small murmur, and Fluttershy across the room was almost impossible to hear, especially next to Pinkie Pie. Twilight rolled her eyes in the dark. That pony couldn’t even sleep quietly! Pinkie Pie twitched and moved, tossing her covers about. She made some clarifying remark about a stepladder, and then tossed again before settling down into less fitful dreams.

Twilight smiled softly in the dark. But only then did she notice she couldn’t hear Rainbow Dash at all. As an experiment, she sighed and then turned over. And just as she thought, she heard a stirring from Dash’s direction. “Can’t sleep either?” Twilight asked softly.

“Hmpf.” Rainbow Dash was quiet, but she sounded annoyed. “I just can’t seem to get comfortable.” She let out a long-suffering sigh. “And if Pinkie doesn’t pipe down, I swear to Celestia's plugged-up shower drain I’m going to drop her out a window.”

Twilight stifled laughter, only a few hushed snrks sneaking out her nose. “Yeah, she is. . . different. I’ve never met anypony quite like Pinkie.”

“I’d hope not.” Rainbow Dash countered. “One Pinkie Pie is pleeeen-ty.”

Their laughter drifted softly through the thick darkness, making Spike stir a bit. Twilight noticed that, for a few moments at least, the dark didn’t seem so dark. Silence stretched on for a minute, and then two. Just before Twilight bid her friend good night, she heard Dash yawn, and then say in a much sleepier voice “Hey, Twilight?”

“Yes Dash?”

A pause. “You remember a couple of years ago when Luna was the Nightmare and she threatened to make night last forever? And we stopped her?”

Nightmare Moon. Before Princess Luna was freed from her hatred and jealousy and spite, she was a force to be feared. Twilight shuddered at the memory of her dark power. She had been entirely outmatched, outsmarted and found herself helpless as the Elements of Harmony were destroyed right in front of her. Only her friends had enabled Twilight to surpass herself and prevent night eternal. “I remember.”

“You said Luna had been banished to the moon for, like 1,000 years or something.” Rainbow Dash yawned again, longer than last time. She was clearly struggling to stay awake to speak her mind, and it was equally clear she was losing. “So, I mean, just how old is she?”

Twilight lay still in thought for a minute. The ancient stories and texts clearly stated that the battle between the two sisters happened 1,000 years in the past, and they called Princess Celestia and Princess Luna both by name. Twilight realized that she’d never really questioned it before. She’d assumed her luminous mentor and her dark counterpart were as constant and eternal as the very ground she walked upon. Yet, if they were truly immortal, if they never aged with the passing of time. . . what did that make them, she wondered.

“I. . . I don’t know.” She offered. But Rainbow Dash’s only response was the soft and slow breathing of deep sleep. Twilight was left alone with her thoughts, further from sleep than ever. Her troubled eyes caught the reflection of those few stars and the crescent moon as she wondered what else she didn’t know.

Twilight Sparkle squinted at the morning sun as it peeked over distant buildings, filtering through trees and gleaming off the spires of the castle in a majestic panoply of radiant color. Princess Celestia had truly outdone herself this morning. She shifted her weight impatiently as she waited for Spike to bring their carriage up to the side of the road.

Rainbow Dash stretched and yawned, “I wasn’t expecting that wedding to be nearly as much fun as it was. I figured the music would be super lame, but it was actually pretty cool.”

Pinkie Pie bounced in place. “Yeah! And the yummilicious cake! I ate sooooooooo much cake!”

Rarity sighed contentedly. “Weddings truly are magical, aren't they? At least when they aren’t being crashed by unrefined imposters.” She glanced towards the hovering pegasus. “I thought you were going to say your favorite part of the wedding was head-butting changelings.”

Dash chuckled a little, but she shook her head at the same time, her rainbow-colored mane swaying with the morning breeze. “Hey, I'll put a hoof through anypony or anything that tries to hurt my friends, but I can’t look back and say I, like, enjoyed it or anything.”

Applejack agreed. “Ain’t that the truth. Rough-housing with siblings or playing a game can make it seem like fun, but real violence kinda makes me feel sick.” Fluttershy and Rarity nodded along with her. “Still and all Rainbow, you can really handle yourself in a tussle. Y'know, for a lightweight pegasus.”

Rainbow Dash swelled a bit with pride. “Yeah, I can totally handle myself. But in a fight like that, I’d want Twilight’s magic by my side any day. Did you see the way she was throwing changelings around? It was so awesome.”

“Not only that,” Rarity noted, “But Twilight could reveal their true forms. I simply must learn that spell for the future. Would you mind teaching me sometime, Twilight? Perhaps over tea?”

Twilight hadn’t noticed her friends were talking to her. The unicorn was squinting back towards the castle, where Princess Celestia now stood with a pair of royal guards by the main entrance. “Um, hang on a second, everypony. I’ll be right back.” With that, Twilight turned and trotted back up the path.

Applejack sighed. “Anypony else notice how quiet Twi’s been all mornin’?”

“Why yes.” Rarity said. “She just hasn’t been herself lately.”

“Um,” Fluttershy mumbled from behind her mane. “She seems worried about someth. . .”

Pinkie Pie popped up in between them, inturrupting. “It’s like she’s worried about something! Or maybe she pulled a muscle while dancing last night! Or she ate too much cake. . .”

Fluttershy's brow creased in a delicate frown. “That's what I was just. . .”

“Oh!” Pinkie's bouncing gave her a clear view past all of her friends. “Here comes our ride!”

Just as the carriage pulled up to the side of the road and the five friends picked up their bags and began loading them up, Twilight made it to the front door of the castle. She bowed to the Princess, who nodded kindly back. “Twilight Sparkle, my best student, aren’t you heading back to Ponyville with your friends?”

Twilight blushed faintly from the compliment. “Yes, Princess, but there was something I wanted to ask you first.”

Celestia’s eyes darkened with worry for only an instant, like a flicker of lightning. But it was gone so quickly Twilight felt certain she’d imagined it. “Yes? What is it?”

“Um, the ancient texts, the ones containing the prophecy about Luna and the stars aiding her escape. . .” Twilight stammered as Celestia became as still as a statue. Her mane and tail were the only parts of her that moved. “Well, I mean, those texts mention both of you by name, and. . . well, I was just wondering. . .” She became more nervous the longer Celestia neither moved nor spoke. “Not that it’s possible, but. . . I mean, you don’t look that old. . .” Twilight gathered her courage and plowed ahead. “So. . . just how old are you? Um, age-wise.”

Princess Celestia’s eyes darkened again, and this time they stayed dark. “You should know that it’s impolite to ask a lady’s age.”

Twilight was hurt. To be honest, she was a little scared too. She’d never seen an angry side of the benevolent Princess Celestia before. At least, she'd never in her wildest dreams imagined that ire being directed at her. She felt a chill run through her, from her horn down to her hooves. But. . . then Twilight felt a tiny spark of anger. She knew without a doubt that Celestia was hiding something from her, probably from everypony.

She grit her teeth and pressed on. “My apologies, Your Highness. I merely assumed that asking questions was a part of the learning process.” Twilight was shocked to hear the accusation in her own voice. “Something you taught me, I might add.” Twilight’s eyes were steely, but inside she marveled at her own audacity. To speak to the ruler of Equestria in such a manner! The quavering feeling in her stomach intensified.

Twilight watched as Princess Celestia grew furious without moving a single muscle. It was all in her eyes. “Indeed, my student. Yet the seeking of knowledge can be very. Very. Dangerous.” Her voice was a frigid and empty wasteland. “Now go. Your friends await.” Without waiting for a response, Princess Celestia turned and walked back into the castle, so she couldn’t see the tears welling up in Twilight Sparkle’s confused eyes. Even the guards exchanged concerned glances.

Twilight felt as though her heart was breaking. She’d always felt close to the Princess, honored and cared for, as though Celestia found her special. Maybe more special than anypony else. As she tried to figure out how things went so wrong so quickly, she suddenly considered that maybe she wasn’t so special after all. Maybe Celestia made all of her students feel like they mattered. She swallowed hard as the thought hit her.

Twilight fought herself back under control. She wasn’t going to make a fool of herself here. She was going to march over to the carriage, climb in, and ride home with her friends. She wiped her violet eyes and blinked them clear, shook herself off, then turned and headed back down the walk to where her best friends waited.

Spike was wearing the little tux he’d worn to the wedding. “C’mon Twilight, the sun’s already up. We should be. . . Twilight, are you ok?”

“I’m fine, Spike, really.” She tried to give him a smile, but only managed a bit of a grimace. “I’ll explain everything later. I promise.”

Spike glanced back up towards the castle before returning his concerned gaze back to Twilight. He opened his mouth as if to ask another question, and then seemed to think better of it. Instead he gave her a reassuring smile. “Ok Twilight.”

She smiled gratefully, and then clambered into the carriage as Spike began giving directions to the pair of stallions in the pulling harnesses.

Twilight stepped into the carriage and closed the door behind her, and then she turned to face her friends. Immediately Fluttershy gasped, “Oh Twilight, what happened?” All of her friends looked concerned.

“There’s no hiding things from you ponies, is there?” Twilight asked with a grumble and a bit of false bluster as the carriage began moving.

“Of course not darling!” Rarity cooed. “We’re your friends. Good friends can always tell when something's wrong. Whatever's the matter?”

The rest of her friends waited in silence. After a steadying breath, she took the open spot on the cushioned bench between Fluttershy and Applejack. “I want to tell you all what just happened, and I want to tell Spike as well when we get back to Ponyville. But I think it’s important that nopony else hears about this, just in case.” Twilight looked everyone in the eyes. “And I really mean nopony.” She stopped to glare at Pinkie Pie.

“What?” Pinkie glanced around hurriedly. “Why is everypony looking at me? I can keep a secret!”

Rainbow Dash chuckled. “Yeah, I met a donkey in a toupee who says otherwise.”

“I was trying to find him a new hairpiece!”

“You practically shouted to the whole village he was bald!”

“I DIDN’T KNOW THAT WAS A SECRET!”

“Now settle down y’all.” Applejack interjected. “I think I have a solution that’ll make everypony happy. How about we all Pinkie promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to fly. Stick a cupcake in my eye.” Everyone chorused. Hooves were drawn over ribcages, limbs were flapped like birds, and around the carriage hooves were stuck somberly into left eyes. Despite herself, she smiled a little.

“See sugarcube? You can tell us anything.” Applejack put an arm around Twilight. “Now let us know what happened. What in all of Equestria did the Princess say to upset you?”

Twilight sighed. “Well, it started when I asked how old she was.”

Pinkie Pie burst into giggles. Rarity looked shocked, and she asked Twilight, “But, you do know it’s impolite to ask a lady her age, right?”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “That’s exactly what she said.”

“Oh, I see now.” Fluttershy’s voice was soft, but it stilled everyone else into listening. “Twilight, you were trying to find out what Princess Celestia and Princess Luna really are.”

“Yes.” Twilight continued, nodding, her bangs swaying across her forehead. “It's a deep question! Dash brought it up last night.”

The pegasus was startled from an intanse bout of digging a front hoof into an ear. “I did what now?”

“You asked the question.” Twilight continued earnestly. “The ancient prophecies implied that both of the royal sisters were around at least a thousand years ago! There’s more to the history of Equestria than they’ve told us. I mean, will they both live forever? Have they both lived forever? Where's the rational explanation!?!”

Applejack interjected. “While we’re questionin’ authority, what exactly are they anyways? Are they unicorns or pegasii?”

“Oh, I know this one!” Rainbow Dash interjected. “They’re called alicorns.”

“Sure, but what’s an alicorn, then?” Applejack shot back.

“I don’t know.” Dash looked thoughtful. “I mean, Celestia and Luna are the only two I know of. Except I just got to meet Cadence a few days ago, so I guess that makes three.”

Twilight added, “Don’t forget about Chrysalis and her changelings. They may not be ponies at all anymore, but every one of them I saw had wings and a horn. And a grasp of magic.” She shook her head. “I’ve read most of the histories of Equestria in the library in Canterlot, but none of them ever mentioned alicorns except in passing. It’s like there’s some huge conspiracy to cover up where they came from.”

Rarity looked nonplussed. “The Royal Princesses of Equestria are special. Maybe they are forces of nature given form, rather than proper ponies.”

“Maybe.” Twilight continued, “But when I pushed her for an answer, she became furious with me. I’ve never seen her so angry before. Then she just stalked away. . .” Fluttershy put an arm and a wing around her friend and lay her head against Twilight’s shoulder, consoling her.

“Everything will be alright sugarcube.” Applejack hugged her friend from the other side. “We’ll figure this out.”

Twilight almost didn’t want to know anymore. She wished she hadn’t said a word to the Princess. The thought that the Princess was somehow disappointed in her twisted her stomach into sick knots. Yet at the same time, the dull ache in her heart was slowly fading into the background as her friends gave her reassurance and sympathy. She smiled again, and this time it didn't fade.

Five afternoons later, Twilight Sparkle stuck her head out the front door of the Ponyville library. The sky was overcast without being completely clouded over, since the next storm wasn’t scheduled for another couple of days. The subtle scents of the flowers growing around Ponyville wafted past her nose. As she trotted out her front door and closed it behind her with a small effort of magic, she glanced at Spike riding along lazily on her back. “Okay, you’ve got quills and parchment? We’re going to head over to Sugar Cube Corner to help Pinkie gather up supplies for June Bug’s birthday party, then we’ll slip over to the town hall to see if the Mayor has any old records we can browse through.”

Spike was wide-eyed with excitement as he leaned forward to respond. “Yeah, maybe there’ll be more clues about Princess Celestia in there.”

“Shhh Spike, not so loud.” Twilight felt as though they weren’t alone, but when she glanced around she didn’t see anyone else nearby. “We're just calling it 'research.' But Granny Smith says Princess Celestia had a hoof in the founding of this village, and I need to know for sure.”

They rounded a corner and nearly bumped into a grey pegasus trotting in their direction. It took a moment for the mare to speak. “Hello Twilight! Hello Spike!”

“Oh. Hello D—ooff” The grey mare gave Twilight a big bear hug before continuing down the street, dandelion-colored tail swishing as she walked.

Spike’s smile was faintly amused. “I think that mare is kind of. . . special.”

“Yes she is.” Twilight agreed with genuine warmth. “She’s one of the nicest ponies I know.”

The smells of grass and subtle flowers were pushed away as the scent of the bakery hit them both full in the face. They turned a corner, and Sugar Cube Corner sprang into view, the only store in Ponyville to look like a giant gingerbread house. It smelled like vanilla and cinnamon and nutmeg, all fresh from an oven. Spike’s mouth began to water. “Hey Twilight, maybe we should have some snacks on hand when we go talk to the mayor. You know how tough it’ll be to browse through old, musty papers on an empty stomach.” His voice sounded hopeful.

Twilight giggled. “Oh Spike, we just had lunch two hours ago.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t have danishes for lunch.” Spike threw himself dramatically over Twilight’s back. “They’ve got danishes filled with cherries Twilight. And then sprinkled with cinnamon and drizzled with frosting.”

Twilight laughed some more. “Ok junior salesman, we’ll grab a couple before we leave.”

She nudged the front door open gently, and saw Pinkie Pie securing a container of cupcakes all decorated with light green frosting and placing them in a brightly colored bag. Pinkie bounced over to the doorway. “Hey you guys! You got here just in time! I need a hoof carrying the cupcakes, the mini-cupcakes, the actual cake and the punch bowl down to where the party’s going to be!” She gestured at three other brightly-colored bags. “Oh, and I’ll need to stop and get streamers, confetti, flowers, and the fruit punch! Spike, can you carry the balloons?”

Spike turned away from the bakery counter to stare up at what must have been fifty balloons of various shapes and colors. He shook his head. “I don’t know, Pinkie Pie. I don’t think I weigh enough to get those down the street.”

Pinkie giggled, “You might be right Spike. I guess I’ll take those.”

The various bags floated into the air in front of Twilight. “I’ll carry these.” Twilight said. “Spike, you can carry the punch bowl.”

“Just a second,” Spike turned to the counter. “We need two cherry danishes, please. To go.” Spike said, rocking back and forth on his heels.

As they left Sugar Cube Corner, with Pinkie Pie bouncing in slow-motion thanks to all the balloons tied around her midsection, Twilight noticed a subtle change in the town. Every pony in the market area was standing still. Carts had stopped, and a low murmur had begun as ponies took turns glancing down the main road through Ponyville. Twilight turned to look back the way she’d come and dropped the bags she’d been levitating. “Spike. . . Pinkie. . .”

Pinkie Pie dropped slowly to the ground after a particularly high bounce. “Wheeeee! What is it, Twi. . . oh!” Pinkie gasped as she turned around.

Princess Celestia walked through the center of the town, without guards and without fanfare. Startled ponies dropped to one knee and bowed as she passed, but she barely nodded to acknowledge her subjects. She was headed straight towards the three of them. Twilight once again felt that twisty sensation in her belly.

Over the last few days, she had built up her resolve to find out what the Princess was hiding, and had pushed her doubts firmly aside. But watching Princess Celestia stalk closer, with her mane and coat seeming to radiate light of its own, seeing her beauty and stature once again, Twilight felt ashamed of her insistence. She was certain something terrible was going to happen, and it would somehow be all her fault.

“Pardon me, but I would like to speak to my student alone.” Princess Celestia’s voice was kind, but had a fine edge hidden beneath it. Pinkie Pie took the hint.

“Okey dokey lokey!” Pinkie grinned at Twilight, entirely oblivious to her friend's look of alarm, and gathered up most of the bags Twilight had dropped with her mouth. “C’mon Shpike, let’sh shake a leg!” Then she trotted off to talk with Rose at the flower stand.

Spike tried to glare at the Princess in Twilight’s defense, and found that he simply could not. He settled for a pleading look he hoped meant ‘Please take it easy on her.’ Then he placed a reassuring claw on Twilight’s shoulder, and then hurried to catch up with Pinkie.

Celestia turned and walked towards the park, away from the houses of Ponyville and anyone who might listen in. Twilight swallowed hard, and turned to trudge along behind her. What had she said wrong? What was she so angry about? She couldn’t remember feeling this sick to her stomach in her whole life.

After a few minutes of silent walking, Celestia led her through a small grove of trees, then she turned and glided up a hill only to stop at the top and gaze off into the east. Twilight came and stood next to her, staring at the ground between her hooves. She wanted to tell the Princess she was sorry she’d offended her at the castle. She wanted to explain herself, and she wanted so badly to bridge this rift between herself and her teacher. But no words would come out past the lump in her throat. So she waited in miserable silence as the sun slowly began to set behind them and their shadows began stretching toward the edge of the world.

Finally, without glancing away from the horizon, Princess Celestia spoke. Her words were slow and heavy, filled with a resolute sorrow. “Twilight, just how many students do you think I have?”

Twilight’s gaze snapped up to Celestia’s face, but all she could see was a deep sadness there. The question caught her completely off guard. She couldn't fathom what the alicorn meant, or where she was going with the harmless, but seemingly loaded question. So she said nothing and waited.

“Did you think I had ten students of my own? Thirty? Fifty?” Twilight shook her head in confusion as Princess Celestia continued. “No. Twilight Sparkle, you are my only student.” Celestia sighed once, and her gaze hardened. She turned her ancient gaze upon Twilight. “I am sorry I spoke harshly to you at the castle. Over the years I have become adept at. . . turning aside questions like yours.” She smiled sadly, and her eyes softened. “But I will tell you the truth. I will tell you everything, even if the answers place you in grave danger. Because the truth is, I’m afraid that I need your help.”

She had to lick her parched lips before she could respond. “M-my help?” Twilight asked in confusion. “With what?”

“Not just your help.” Princess Celestia drew herself to her full height. Her long, elegant horn caught the dimming light, and it gleamed like an upraised sword. “Gather your friends and meet me in the library. I will explain what I can.” She glanced up towards the clouds. “And you can help her get everypony together, right Rainbow Dash?”

Celestia’s horn glowed briefly, and a particularly low-hanging cloud disappeared with a poof, leaving a startled and flapping Rainbow Dash hovering within earshot. “Ummmmm, eheheheh. . .” The pegasus blushed a deep shade of red. “Sure. Of course. Anything you say, your Highness.” Dash grinned abashedly, and then shot off into the distance.

Twilight watched her leave, and then nodded once. “Of course, your Highness.” She hesitated, then gave Celestia a quick hug before turning and galloping back down the hill towards town. Maybe things weren't as bad as they'd seemed. Maybe celestia still thought of her as a good student. In fact, hadn't she said. . . only student? Despite Celestia's grim intimations of danger, Twilight nearly leaped for joy. She already knew she'd offer whatever help the Princess might ask for.

Meanwhile, Celestia stood atop the hill a minute more, quietly allowing herself to feel the fear and dread she’d been hiding as the setting sun limned half of the world in a fiery red. She touched her leg where the young, trusting filly had just hugged her, and she shuddered. Her shoulders and wings drooped, as though under a heavy weight, and her sigh seemed to come from the very tips of her hooves.

02: The Story

Rarity was the first pony to reach the library as dusk settled into night, and she began bringing down pillows and cushions from Twilight’s bedroom so ponies could make themselves comfortable. Fluttershy arrived, followed by Pinkie Pie and Spike, both still wearing party hats. Twilight and Rainbow Dash came in together, followed by Applejack, who was a bit winded having run from her farm.

“Ok then,” Applejack began. “Anypony care to explain what all this is about? It’s not another one of Pinkie’s parties, is it?” She eyed the party hats suspiciously.

“I wish!” Pinkie Pie piped in. “We should be at June Bug’s birthday party, but Twilight said this was more important.” She took of her party hat and started swinging it about by the elastic. “We didn’t even get to bob for apples.” Pinkie stretched the elastic over one hoof and flung it into the air, and the festive hat drifted down to rest by Applejack’s hooves.

Reclining across two soft pillows, Rarity chimed in. “Well, Rainbow Dash didn’t fill me in on any details. She merely said it was urgent.”

Fluttershy glanced from Rarity to Twilight, but said nothing. Twilight spoke. “Thanks for coming over on such short notice, everypony. I’d like to explain, but I think we should wait for one more to show up.” She glanced at Rainbow Dash, who shared the same look of anticipation and anxiety.

Spike broke the silence. “One more?” He looked around. “Who are we waiting for?”

The front door opened as if in answer, and Princess Celestia walked in, filling the library with radiant light and the sweet scent of honeysuckle. Applejack gasped “Sweet sassafrass!” Rarity and Fluttershy jumped to their feet, and everypony bowed their heads. Spike lifted a claw into the air. “Oh.” He said. “Right.”

Celestia looked at everyone in turn. She didn’t glance. She looked. As if trying to gauge the depth and breadth of their souls. Or as if she was etching them all into memory exactly as they stood before her. Even Spike. Finally she seemed to reach a decision. For a brief moment, her horn gave off a soft yellow glow, and the smell of honeysuckle intensified. There was a very tiny pop, and everyone suddenly felt a strange pressure on their ears. Applejack shook her head a bit. Pinkie Pie looked confused and rubbed at her ears.

Celestia explained. “I’ve placed a bubble shield around this library, to prevent anypony from listening in.”

Spike glanced out a window. “Oh, Twilight knows that same spell. She used it just last month to keep Applebloom, Sweetie Bell and Scootaloo out.”

Celestia smiled down proudly at Twilight. “I know she can. I taught her that spell myself.” Twilight blushed.

“Now hold on just a buckle-buckin’ minute.” Applejack’s eyes narrowed. “What is it that’s sooooooo terrible secret you can’t just tell everypony? Just what have you been hiding?” When Celestia narrowed her eyes, Applejack’s eyes widened and she retreated a step. “Um. . . that is, if’n you please. . . your Majesty.”

Princess Celestia closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she didn’t look angry. She looked worn and sad. “I’ve placed this protection around us for the safety of your town, Applejack. I fear the secrets I mean to tell you will place you all in danger.”

“Danger?” Rainbow Dash sounded more curious than afraid. “What kind of danger?”

“I risk your lives, Rainbow Dash, so I would call that mortal danger.” A heavy silence fell. Celestia continued, “I suggest we all make ourselves comfortable. There’s no need to stand for the story I must tell.” As ponies and a baby dragon pulled cushions closer and gathered around the Princess, Celestia settled down on the floor. She was still a head taller than any pony there. “If you have questions, you may ask them now. I will answer as I can.”

Rainbow Dash was fast on the draw. “Just how old are you anyway?”

Twilight cringed a bit, and Celestia noticed. Her brow creased with worry. “By my count young Rainbow Dash, I am 11,470 years old. Give or take a few. Time can be hard to track across so many centuries.”

“Goodness!” Rarity murmured.

“Sweet apple sammich!” Applejack shouted.

“Oh my.” Fluttershy whispered.

“That’s a lot of birthday parties. . .” Pinkie Pie breathed in awe.

Twilight asked, “Is your sister just as old as you are?”

“Oh, no.” Celestia shook her head, her mane swaying slightly. “I’m still two years older than she.”

Pinkie Pie giggled. Spike was impressed. “So, why don’t you look 11,000 years old?” He asked.

“That, my dear Spike, is a very good question.” Celestia’s gaze unfocused, as if she was looking somewhere far away. “My sister and I were given a gift, and this brings me to the story I mean to tell.”

Applejack held up a hoof. “Uh, Princess Celestia, before you begin your story, what exactly is a pony with wings and a horn anyway? Rainbow here says you’re called an ‘alicorn,’ or somethin’. Is that right?”

Celestia smiled. “Yes, Applejack. That’s what we were called.”

Applejack smiled back, relieved. “I think it sure is a pretty word, alicorn. But I guess my question is, why don’t we see more of ‘em around Equestria?”

“First,” Celestia answered, “My sister and I were born a long way from here. Our homeland lies across thousands of miles of vast ocean.”

“That sounds amazing!” Rainbow Dash looked excited. “I’d love to see a vast ocean!”

“That may not be as exciting as you think, Dashie.” Pinkie added. “I’d imagine it just looks like water that goes on forever, right? Boooring!”

“You and your sister traveled here, didn’t you?” Twilight spoke softly. “You mentioned that the two of you arrived in Equestria to find chaos. That Discord was loose, causing havoc and misery.”

“That’s right.” Celestia said. “Luna and I eventually made our way across the ocean just over 9,000 years ago.” Celestia nodded, but then her gaze grew distant again. “However, the city we grew up in so long ago was filled with alicorns. My people lived and worked, traded with the other tribes and nations of ponies in a relative state of peace. And yes, we were born, grew old and died, just like any other race of creature living on this world.”

“But, there are no other major land masses.” Twilight protested. “Aside from a few tiny islands, I mean. Everything’s been explored. Hasn’t it?”

The princess actually looked a little embarrassed. “Well, Luna and I have worked very hard to erase all evidence to the contrary, so I would certainly hope you learned that in school.” She said. “But the truth is quite different.”

Twilight’s eyes lit up with excitement. “So, there are ponies that live on the other side of the world?”

Princess Celestia shook her head and said slowly, “Not anymore, Twilight Sparkle. I can’t imagine any of them survived.”

Dismay choked Twilight into stillness. A heavy silence settled over the seven companions as they glanced at one another in alarm. A wide-eyed Fluttershy looked as though she might cry. Celestia continued. “My story begins a long time ago. About 11,450 years ago if I’m not mistaken. In the alicorn country called Galur, near the lush jungles in the south, there was a large city named Pejas, where I was born. I lived there with my father, my sister Luna, and my brother Teryn.”

Rarity gasped. “You had a brother?”

Celestia nodded. “Luna and Teryn were twins, born together, and I was their big sister. Father always charged me with looking out for them, told me I had to be the responsible one.” Celestia smiled wistfully. “I took that quite to heart. It wasn’t always easy, as my siblings seemed skilled at causing mischief.”

“Tell me about it, sister.” Pinkie Pie rolled her eyes. “Responsibility can be—OOOF!” Rainbow Dash elbowed her side and put a hoof to her lips.

Celestia continued. “Our father, Silfur, worked as a weather warden. His being a dangerous and prestigious job, we lived in comfort, never wanting much. We had food, toys and books, knickknacks, puzzles, jewelry. . . most of what we wanted was provided. We simply didn’t see our father very much.” Celestia paused to look at the ponies settled around her. “I’d guess it’s a common enough tale, parents who work hard and don’t spend much time with their children, but we did miss him.” The Princess’s gaze unfocused again as she continued. “Father’s work was dangerous during the spring and summer. Violent storms used to assault our city and our lands from the south, and the flights of wardens from Pejas would be sent out to break the storms when they could, or move ponies to safety when they couldn’t.”

The friends glanced at each other in confusion. Twilight spoke up. “Who would make a storm that large?”

“This. . . may be difficult to understand for some of you, but the world used to work in a very different way in the beginning. The wind used to blow entirely on its own. The wind used to scoop water off of lakes and oceans to make clouds all on its own. The clouds would gather on their own without anypony lifting a hoof.” The Princess smiled at the wide eyes staring at her in disbelief. “Our vast world even turned on its own, bringing night and day each by turn. The world itself seemed to have its own life, its own purpose. We were all but specks by comparison, doing our best to live in harmony with the cycles of the planet.” Celestia giggled a bit at Rainbow Dash’s puzzled expression. “I understand this must sound very strange, but every word is the truth.”

Rainbow Dash looked like a filly lost in the woods. “So, clouds would just happen for no reason? Is that it?” Celestia nodded. Dash continued. “And then they’d move around. For no reason.” Celestia nodded again. Rainbow Dash groaned and buried her face in her hooves. “Honestly, that sounds completely made-up.”

Twilight looked skeptical. “This does sound far-fetched, your Highness. . .”

Applejack tapped a hoof on the floor in thought. “So these here clouds, they used to make rain and such all on their own?”

“Rain, snow, hail, lightning. . .” The Princess confirmed. “All of it. As I said, it helps to picture the world itself as being alive, having its own energy and will.”

Fluttershy looked concerned. “But, but if that’s true, what would happen to the critters if they didn’t know when a storm was coming? Weren’t their dens and homes flooded? Or, or blown away?”

Celestia considered that carefully for a moment. “It always seemed to me that our world was impartial, bringing rain or sunlight to all creatures great and small. When nature was in a good mood, one could frolic in the sunlight, sometimes for weeks. And when the world turned grim, all creatures were wise to seek shelter. That was simply the way of things back then.” Fluttershy did not look reassured. Celestia added, “Many of us did try to help, though. That was a weather warden’s job in those days. Flights of alicorns would fly to meet a storm and try to summon wind to divert it, or disperse it. When the storm was too great, they would simply try to warn anyone in its path.”

Celestia continued. “We lost Mother when we were very young, and with Father gone much of the time, my siblings and I used to study together, invent games, play with our toys, read, make up stories, practice what magic we knew. . . none of us were terribly good with magic back then. Yet when we grew bored with these things, we would explore our great city. It’s difficult to describe the size of it, but Pejas was enormous. You could easily fit a hundred Ponyvilles within its walls, with room to spare. Most of the buildings were made of sturdy stone, yet they were carved to look as elegant as spun glass. The largest and most elegant being the Celestial Temple, the center of our sprawling city. Trees and creeper vines were grown all through our streets and around our homes to make us look as though our homes were part of the jungle. Our city was also very old, old long before I was born.”

Celestia sighed again. “One night, an alert sounded through the city. One of the largest and most dangerous kinds of storms was headed inland. Something we called a ‘hurricane’.” Celestia glanced at Fluttershy. “Colts and fillies were rounded up, windows were shut and locked. Shops were closed, and of course the Pejas wardens took to the skies to try to divert it. We secured our home, bolting storm shutters and closing every door to try to keep the winds out. When we were done, however, the three of us gathered on our porch to watch the incoming storm.”

“I remember it well, my little ponies. I remember the black storm clouds stretching across the horizon to the south and west. I remember the sound of the alarms ringing through the ominous quiet, and I remember the strange rumbling noise we’d never heard or felt before. It began so low at first that I thought I was imagining it. It was just a deep thrumming I couldn’t hear as much as feel in my chest. As the rumbling grew to something I noticed, however, I glanced at my siblings. Luna looked anxious. Teryn was clearly frightened and equally clearly trying not to show it. If I’m honest, I’d say I was pretty well frightened myself.”

“Then there was a flash of light from the south-east so bright it hurt my eyes and left me seeing spots. As we all flinched away, the ground began to shake beneath our hooves. We nearly fell to the stone, and we clung to one another for balance. I’d never felt an earthquake before, and we couldn’t do anything but watch the whole city below us quiver and shake as we blinked our eyes clear. A couple of buildings fell. Our house stood, but I could hear things being knocked off of shelves behind us.”

“When the ground stopped trying to fling us about, we began to see strange things from the direction of the flash. Things none of us could have understood at the time. Looking back, however, I believe we were watching a great battle, something beyond anything we’d ever seen or heard about. There was another burst of light, not blinding this time, but directed in a cone away from us. A vast swath of darkness coalesced in the air and flattened a section of the jungle. Lightning struck repeatedly in the exact same place. Long, thin red beams cut through the stillness that followed. Then a firestorm burst into life, dying into embers moments later. We were stunned by the display of power and violence, as though armies of unicorns had for some reason gone mad and decided to lay waste to one another. Or, more likely, as though a pair of deities had brought some eternal conflict to our very doorstep.”

Rarity coughed politely. “Not to be rude, your Highness, but I’m unfamiliar with that word. What do you mean by ‘deities’?”

Twilight offered an answer. “She means gods. I think.”

Celestia nodded, and then clarified, “Or, to be more precise, beings who surpass our knowledge and our comprehension, and therefore we have no proper words to describe them.”

“Oh.” Rainbow Dash jumped in. “So you mean something like, I don’t know, you?” She gestured vaguely towards Celestia.

Celestia recoiled in shock before pausing in thought, and then smiling a bit. “Hmpf. I can see what you mean, at least so far as ‘surpasses knowledge and comprehension.’” She shook her head in wonder. “But I’m not really comfortable with that label. I feel silly thinking of myself as a deity.”

Pinkie Pie waved a hoof in the air. “Well, can we still use your name in sticky situations? Like, can I still say ‘By Celestia’s beard, those are some burnt cupcakes?’ I’ve grown rather fond of it. . .”

Everyone laughed pretty hard, even the Princess. Celestia nodded, wiping a tear from her eye. “If you must, Pinkamena. I promise I won’t mind.”

As the laughter died away, everyone looked at one another a bit uncertainly. It was nervous laughter, and the friends all knew it. The story the princess had yet to tell cast a shadow over the evening. Twilight was the first to regain her courage and speak. “What happened next, Princess?”

Celestia continued, “At the time, all we knew for certain was that something terrible was happening. As the strange battle continued far in the distance, and the hurricane drew closer, I failed to notice my sister was no longer standing with us until she darted past Teryn and I and took to the sky, her travel bags already cinched around her waist.”

“Of course she was worried about Father. I should have seen it coming, maybe I could have stopped her. As it was Teryn and I followed as fast as we could manage. Luna had always been faster than I on the wing, and even without carrying a pack I could barely keep her from leaving me behind. Teryn was faster than both of us, so I sent him ahead to reason with her, to convince her to turn back. I knew it wouldn’t work, but I had to try.”

“We flew for quite awhile through still air, the calm before the storm, eventually leaving the city walls behind us and soaring out over dense jungle. I remember the sun dipping towards the horizon, beneath the looming clouds. The magical detonations had stopped, but the wind was finally picking up speed, making flight harder and harder. I’d hoped then that Luna might turn back, but she and Teryn kept flying until the winds grounded them both.”

“I followed them down through the thick jungle canopy and found my siblings working their way through the vines and roots of the underbrush. When I caught up to them, it was clear that I’d be dragging Luna back to Pejas kicking and fighting me tooth and hoof before she knew father was safe. Whatever those explosions were, they’d shaken my sister up pretty badly. So, against my better judgment, we travelled together. The coming storm may have worked in our favor, because we didn’t stumble across any venomous snakes or wildcats during our trek. In fact, we didn’t see a single living thing until the sunlight disappeared completely.”

“We must have been getting close, but with the sun gone the jungle became entirely black. Teryn called up light from his horn, and there in the deep golden glow a pale wolf stood before us. It was massive, nearly as tall as I am, and it gave an immediate impression of lean strength and agility. Yet I didn’t feel frightened of it. I don’t think any of us did. Partly because it was injured. (Fluttershy gasped) And the strange wolf was covered in burns and scorch marks, lacerations and worse. (Fluttershy squeaked in dismay) Partly because it was caked in mud and dirt. But mostly I wasn’t afraid of the wolf because I looked into its eyes. Even though it was so badly hurt I couldn’t believe it was still standing, its eyes gave me a strong impression that it liked us straight away, even felt sorry for us.”

Celestia seemed baffled by the memory. “The winds were getting more frenzied by the minute, and the first few heavy drops of the storm hit the canopy above us. Lightning flashed almost continuously and the thunder was deafening. I remember shouting at Teryn, telling him to find us some shelter. He nodded and leapt away, taking the light with him. I called up my own, as Luna tore off her pack and began pulling out salve and bandages. I still couldn’t say why, exactly, but we both agreed without exchanging a word that we would try to help this creature. By the time Teryn came crashing back through the jungle, we had swathed the wolf’s face and three of its legs in bandages, fashioning a splint for a hind leg that seemed broken. The wolf had been still through most of it, shuddering and panting heavily through the worst of the pain. But as Teryn motioned us to follow him, the rain began in earnest, with the branches above us creaking and thrashing dangerously. I knew that if the storm didn’t kill us directly, exposure might.”

“Luna and I helped the injured wolf through the storm, lifting paws over roots and tearing vines out of the way with our horns. By then we were all soaked and muddy, covered in foliage and sap. Then Teryn stopped and used his horn to illuminate what he’d found. There was a large tree in front of us, taller and larger even than the tree that makes up this library. Its roots arched out of the ground, and I saw room underneath where we could all squeeze in. So we crawled into the space underneath the tree, dragging ourselves through the mud and trying not to catch our horns on the tree bark above us. Then the four of us huddled together for warmth. Gusts from the storm drove rain, bits of dirt and leaves against us even under the tree’s protection, and we occasionally heard massive, shuddering crashes whenever a nearby tree was overcome by the might of the hurricane. I tried keeping a protective bubble up around us, but I lacked the strength to keep it up for long.”

Celestia laughed a bit then. “That should have been a long, miserable and sleepless night. Instead, I found myself dreaming in no time. I dreamt of relaxation and contentment. I dreamt of cold drinks on a hot day, of rare moments when our family was together. And then I dreamt of endless rolling fields of flowers under the glow of a loving sun. I remember, as I turned my face into the sunshine, I felt an unspoken question, just a vague sense of curiosity about me. About whom I was and what I cherished. As if in answer, I felt a deep and unwavering love for the world, and the sun that shined upon it. I felt something shift, as though the world had dropped out from under me, and I startled awake.”

“The first thing I noticed was that the storm had ended. The sun shone down strongly through holes in the jungle canopy above our hiding place. Everything around us looked windswept and wet, except for our little makeshift den; it was warm and dry for some strange reason. The second thing I noticed was just how absolutely alive I felt. The green around us looked so very green, and the brown of the dirt looked really brown, as though I could see the richness of the soil. I could sense the deep vitality of the tree sheltering us, and its slow satisfaction at having weathered the storm. It was like another sense, a new dimension layered on top of the world I’d been living in. It was like I’d been deaf and blind my entire life.”

“The third thing I noticed, when my siblings stirred awake next to me, was that we were all curled up next to a statue. The wolf had turned to stone during the night. Teryn pulled a couple of our bandages off of the figure before us, and we could see the injuries from the night before etched into the stone. To this day, I have never learned who or what that wolf was, nor have I unraveled the mystery of the power it bestowed upon the three of us that night. Yet when we returned to Pejas and our home, we were all transformed. Magic became as simple as breathing, and whenever I closed my eyes, I found I could feel the world around me. We all could. We stayed up all that night, trading stories of what we dreamt under that tree and trying out our new powers. When Luna found she could lift our entire house, I urged us all to stop. I thought our power should stay a secret until we understood it better.”

“Within days of the storm’s passing, rumors began to spread about a darkness that had taken root in our jungle. Rumors of dark and twisted plant life, rumors of faceless and violent creatures stalking the underbrush. Ponies going missing, ponies going mad, all sorts of evil. Everypony called it a curse, but the three of us had another theory. Luna, Teryn and I had figured that the wolf we’d found wasn’t from our world. We’d decided that, before it passed its power on to us, it must have had all that power at its disposal. Not only that, but it had fought something dark and terrible, and it had lost. And we were worried for another reason. Father never came home. None of the wardens sent out that day returned. The official report classified them as missing, but we weren’t convinced. We somehow knew we had lost our father in that same struggle we’d witnessed when we should have been indoors.”

Celestia hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. Everyone met each other’s eyes nervously. Spike had half of a doughnut dangling from his claws, apparently forgotten. Rarity glanced anxiously out of a window, as though the dark of night concealed something dangerous. Even Pinkie Pie kept quiet. The Princess continued. “You must understand, as the darkness slowly spread towards our city we tried everything we could think to try. The shields we constructed were eaten away. The light we summoned was absorbed or dispelled. The creatures corrupted by the curse fought anything that approached them. We failed to learn much of anything about this being ponies had taken to calling Varkur. In our language back then, it just meant The Darkness. We failed to understand it, and we failed entirely to stop it. You see, eventually we discovered that it was moving toward our city. Incredibly slowly, as slowly as grass grows. We spent years trying to fight it, slow it down, divert it. We constructed barricades in the jungle using all sorts of materials, all of which it eventually ate through. I remember at one point Teryn, Luna and I joined our new powers together and opened a deep chasm, a rift we’d hoped this Darkness might fall into. It seemed to work. It took almost an entire season for the thing to work its way back to the surface. But it just kept coming.”

“We knew where it was headed. The Celestial Temple in Pejas was built around a mote of light embedded in a strange rock formation. Some said it was a star fallen to the planet, or a shard from a fallen star. Others believed it to be a place where the life of the planet touched the surface. We didn’t know what would happen if Varkur slithered its way into the temple, but we knew it would be bad.”

Rainbow Dash spoke up. “Couldn’t you just move the shard? Or whatever it was?”

Celestia shook her head gravely. “By the time the darkness reached the city walls, Pejas had been long deserted. With only the three of us left in our home, we were free to try whatever we wished. We wound up breaking apart the entire temple and about a dozen homes trying to move the shard, but it was beyond what we could touch. At the last, Teryn told us of a desperate plan he’d come up with. He wanted to teleport into the heart of the Darkness, try to find Varkur or whatever being lay at the center, and teleport them both as far from Pejas as he could. With his new power, he hoped he could at least survive the attempt. Luna was livid, and screamed his foolishness in his face. I was torn, unable to think of a better plan. I hesitated, and taking that as my support, Teryn vanished. Luna followed him. All I can say was that it seemed to work. The darkness dissipated. The monsters wandered away. And Luna was left alone near the city walls.”

“She was never quite the same. I don’t know that she ever forgave me for letting Teryn go. Especially since we never saw him again. He was gone, just like Father. Luna and I split up. She insisted. And we travelled Galur and all the lands beyond, one ocean to the other. We tried warning ponies and any other creatures we met of the danger we’d faced, but it was difficult to sound credible. We also scoured the land for any artifacts of magic or power we might use. Over three hundred years passed before Varkur returned to Pejas, but it finally reached the ruins of our Celestial Temple. We never managed to stop it. It took another hundred years, but eventually the wind stopped blowing. Rain stopped falling. Days and nights grew longer and longer. Eventually, the world stopped turning at all, and the sun sat on one horizon while the moon peeked above the other, neither rising nor setting. I don’t remember how long the world stayed that way. It was weeks, maybe months before Luna and I discovered that together, with the right kind of nudge, we could keep the world spinning. I’ve had 11,000 years to get used to the idea, but when I recall that day I still remember the fear I felt. The fear that we were witnessing the end of all things. It still troubles me to think that our world is no longer alive, if it ever was.”

“Every year we lost ground. We kept everypony we could away from the encroaching Darkness, but more and more ponies felt they had to see it for themselves. I think it must have called to them, usually in the night. Most never returned. We fought to keep our communities, and we ran when we couldn’t. Finally, there was no place left to run, and too few of us to make a difference. So we travelled across the great ocean hoping to find a refuge, someplace safe. Instead, we found Discord.” Celestia sighed heavily. “It was clear right away that Discord had something to do with the Darkness in our homeland. Their powers feel so similar. Maybe Discord inherited his power from Varkur the same way we were empowered by that strange wolf. As terrible as Discord was, however, he was only a shadow of the true Darkness we had faced. He was a dangerous prankster, seeking mischief rather than slaughter, but at times his results were the same. Together, Luna and I were a match for that corrupted draconequus. And the rest I believe you all know well enough.”

“Since then, my sister and I agreed that nopony should be allowed to venture across the ocean. We tried to eliminate all knowledge and record of the world as a whole, and we worked hard to acquire or disable any transportation that stood a chance of traversing the ocean. All the while, we worked to make of our lands a safe haven, a place where sunlight and joy could be defended to the last. A place where friendship and life and love were the most important things. We needed to find a way to grow strong enough to resist the Darkness when it appeared on our borders. Yet strangely enough, it never did. We waited thousands of years, and all we saw were the occasional threats, like the changelings. However, I think the brief moments Luna spent in the Darkness changed her, infected her mind somehow, because she eventually seemed to lose herself. When I banished her to the moon, I thought I had lost her forever. Yet she is restored to me, and I have all of you to thank for bringing my sister back.”

“That brings me to tonight. I need to find out what is going on. I need to return to our homeland. Perhaps this evil is gone, or perhaps it cannot cross the oceans for some reason. But I have a bad feeling that things are not quite so simple. I’m afraid things may be worse than I fear, and I need to know for sure. However, with this recent attack on Canterlot I cannot leave my subjects undefended. Therefore, Luna will stay to protect Equestria, so I am asking you all to accompany me on my trip. I intend to cross the ocean, discover what has become of my homeland, and return. I hope you all will come with me and assist me should I need the help. That’s all I can ask of you.”

The hour had grown very late during the Princess’s story, and a few of the lit candles had already gone out. The friends stirred as they glanced at one another. Twilight’s joints creaked a bit as she adjusted herself on her cushion. “But your Highness, why me? Why us?” She asked.

“Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia spoke warmly. “In 9,000 years of students I believe you are the most gifted unicorn I have ever met, and the bond you share with your friends is more impressive yet. Together, you ponies have faced more disaster and evil than most have seen in a couple of lifetimes. I dislike risking your lives, and I dislike even more admitting that I may need help on my trip, but the truth cannot be avoided. Should you all agree, I will arrange transportation through Manetreal and on to Nova Coltia, where I will have a ship ready. I will meet you all there with the Elements of Harmony. And from there I will show you how I plan to cross the ocean.” Celestia looked around the room, waiting for the friend’s responses.

Rainbow Dash didn’t hesitate. “I’ll go. That is, if Twilight’s going.”

Twilight nodded. “If you need me, Princess, of course I’ll go.”

Rarity agreed. “I’d be happy to help in any way I can.”

Applejack nodded. “Count me in. Although I’ll need to find somepony to help Big Mac look after the farm.”

“Then we’ll all go together, right Spike?” Pinkie Pie pulled Spike in with a hoof and hugged him until his eyes bulged. Whatever he was going to say squeaked into nothing as Pinkie Pie squeezed the air out of his lungs.

Twilight shook her head. “I don’t want Spike to go. He should stay here.”

Spike gasped in a breath as Pinkie Pie dropped him. “Wait, why?” He sounded hurt.

“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash jumped in. “Why not Spike?”

“He’s too young for this sort of thing.” Twilight insisted. “This could get dangerous! Weren’t you listening to the story?”

Spike looked both hurt and angry. He looked to Celestia for support. Celestia said. “I believe Spike is mature enough to decide for himself. Besides Twilight, you and I both know why you will need him with you.”

Twilight looked like she might charge the Princess right there. Her eyes were narrowed, head down and she leaned forward. Then Celestia’s words seemed to sink in, and Twilight closed her eyes. She swallowed and nodded. Then, with the exception of Twilight and Spike, everyone looked towards Fluttershy.

“Of course I’ll go.” She whispered. “You’re all my very best friends.” Rarity smiled and put a hoof on her shoulder.

Princess Celestia stood, stretching her legs and her wings. She dispelled her shield with another soft pop, and she spoke again. “Thank you all. I promise I will do everything in my power to keep us safe. I must go and make preparations, and I suggest you all do the same. In three days time I’d like you to be at the Ponyville train station at dawn. There you will take the train east through Baltimare and towards Manetreal. I will gather the Elements and meet you all in Nova Coltia.”

03: A Little Vacation

It was way too early in the morning for Spike. He didn’t really care what Twilight was saying or how impatient she sounded. He would have bet every last bit that the sun wasn’t even up yet, and Twilight was already calling for him to get out of bed and help with the packing. He rolled over and buried his head under his pillow. That worked for a minute, and he almost managed to block out the sounds of Twilight moving about and things clanking together before his pillow was magically lifted out of his reach. He mumbled something uncomplimentary about a purple snout and a dustbin, and a moment later felt the queasy, disjointed sensation of being teleported. He found himself slumped over Twilight’s back.

“Bleh. I get it. I’m up.” Spike rubbed his face and gazed around the library. He blinked. “What in Celestia’s name did you do to the place?!?” Nearly everything in their home, including most of the books and scrolls, lay piled in circles of decreasing size, ending at Twilight’s travel bags, a suitcase and a backpack.

Twilight looked as though she hadn’t even tried to sleep. Which she hadn’t. “I began by taking inventory of everything we owned after I tucked you in last night. Then I made a list of everything it would be helpful to have on this trip around the world. However, everything useful would be too much, so I made this chart over here to measure an item’s size and weight and factor that into an item’s usefulness. Then I made a second list which only had the absolute essentials on it. By contrasting the lists using the chart, I was able to pack our bags as efficiently as possible, barring some minor modifications.” She sounded very pleased with herself. She also sounded a bit strained.

Spike wandered over to the packs, lifting up a disc of metal. “So, you snapped the handle off of the frying pan. . . why, exactly?”

“To reduce space and evenly distribute weight between the two of us, factoring in our relative sizes and levels of endurance, as you can see from my third chart over here. Oh, and I’ll use the hollow handle to store sewing needles in case any of the straps on our packs rip.”

Spike buried his face in his claw. “If you say so, Twi’.” He stumbled into the kitchen, presumably to find something to eat, while Twilight double-checked her checklist.

The sun was just starting to bring some color to the eastern sky as Twilight and Spike made their way across Ponyville to the train station. Birds were just beginning to chirp, the air smelled sharp and clean, and it didn’t seem anypony else was awake. It‘s a beautiful time of day, Twilight reflected. Not to mention a beautiful place to live. Princess Celestia had told them all what horrors they might face half of a world away, but it was difficult in that pre-dawn light to imagine any of them being real. So long as she had a home like this and her friends, Twilight figured she didn’t have too much to worry about. Except maybe Spike eating all their rations.

“Hey, do you mind?” Twilight magically closed the flap on her pack before Spike could pull out the bag of oat bars. “The food I’ve packed is for emergencies only. There’s going to be food on the train!”

“Sure Twilight.” Spike leaned in. “And there’s probably going to be food wherever we’re going, too. We can pick up some more.”

Twilight sighed. “I don’t even know where you put it all. You’re like a third my size, but you eat more than I do.”

“What? I’m a growing baby dragon. I need my energy.”

“Really? Because I think you stopped growing about a year ago.”

“That’s a low-blow, Twilight.” Spike shook his head in mock sadness. “And that’s the difference between you and me. I don’t discriminate by metabolism.”

“Do you even know what a metabolism is?”

“Ummmm. . .”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “I don’t think you’ll starve to death between now and dawn.”

“You think, but you don’t know that.”

Twilight sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose with a hoof. “Well, we’re here.”

Spike sat up and looked around. “And we’re the first ones here. Shocking.” He met Twilight’s disapproving glare and lifted an eyebrow. Twilight bucked just enough to dump Spike onto the floor, and then turned to face the ticket counter. A sleepy-looking earth pony was juggling coffee and a doughnut while trying to open the locked door to the office. Twilight walked up behind the mare and magically lifted her breakfast out of her hooves so she could get her keys. The ticket agent smiled gratefully and unlocked the door. When she rolled the counter shutter open, Twilight slid the mug and pastry across the counter.

“Good morning!” Twilight beamed. “We need two tickets, please.”

The ticket agent shook her head tiredly. “You’re awfully chipper for it being so early in the morning.”

Spike’s voice drifted over the counter. “Tell me about it.”

The agent continued. “But your name is Twilight Sparkle, right?” Twilight nodded. “Yup, you’re all paid for. The royal treasury has paid for the entire train, bag checks and meals for the trip. Here’s your tickets.” She slid seven tickets across the counter. “Enjoy the ride.”

“Wow.” Twilight looked from the tickets to the train. “That’s very generous of the Princess.” She glanced down at Spike. “Well, there you go. Celestia’s just offered to feed you for the trip. Well, the first leg of it anyway.”

A voice drifted across the platform. “Twilight, Spike!” Applejack waved. “What’re you two doin’ here so early?” Spike turned a glare at Twilight that clearly said See? Twilight shrugged a bit sheepishly. Applejack made her way over to her friends and set her packs down. “Figured I’d be the first one here by a long shot. Get our tickets in advance and all. But here you are bright and early, Twi’.”

Twilight shook her head. “I don’t think you need to worry about tickets.” Twilight handed one to Applejack. “Here, the Princess has already covered everything. Apparently we’re the only passengers on this train.”

“Well, I’ll be. That’s mighty fine of her.” Applejack stared at the ticket for a moment. “You know, something’s been bothering me ever since Princess Celestia told us her story.” Twilight gave her a questioning look. “It’s just that, well, we heard some real scary things that night. And now we’re going to go and find those scary things and maybe do something about them.” Twilight nodded. Spike glanced between them. “But, thing is, I haven’t felt scared. I should have, I think we should all be scared of what we’re up against. But it just doesn’t seem real at all, you get my meanin’?”

Twilight nodded emphatically. “I was thinking about that just this morning, walking through Ponyville. It’s hard to imagine anything so horrible could even exist when there are places like this in the world.”

Applejack held up the ticket. “Well, knowing that the Princess is paying for our trip, somehow that makes it more real to me. Like, if she’s worried enough to drop hundreds, maybe thousands of bits to bring us somewhere, then maybe I should be worried.” Applejack laughed nervously. “It’s strange to say so out loud, but this ticket is the scariest thing I’ve seen in awhile. That make a lick of sense to you?”

Twilight drew her friend in for a hug. “Of course it does.” Twilight glanced down and saw Spike looking nervous too, his green eyes wide. Twilight scooped him up and into the hug. “But there’s no need to worry just yet. We’re a long, long way from anything bad, and I’m sure there’ll be plenty of time to worry later. This is just going to be a fun train ride, like a little vacation!”

“Yeah.” Agreed Applejack. “I guess you’re right. I’m not fond of leaving Big Macintosh with all the chores, but there’s no reason not to enjoy the ride, right?” Twilight nodded.

Pinkie Pie arrived next, with bags that were full to bursting. Probably packed with pony party provisions and popcorn. Twilight rolled her eyes a bit at that thought. Rainbow Dash arrived next, swooping in gracefully just as Rarity arrived. Fluttershy arrived last, walking instead of flying. By then the sun was mostly up. “What took you so long, Fluttershy?” Rainbow Dash snorted from the bench she was laying on. “Everypony’s ready to go!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Fluttershy mumbled. “It’s just that Twinkleshine agreed to look after all my critters, and I had to make sure she knew just how much to feed them, and how often to play with them, and to make sure Angel doesn’t get into the cupboards, and. . .”

“Geez, we get it.” Rainbow Dash said with an exasperated moan.

“There there,” Rarity reassured her. “I’m certain Twinkleshine was the perfect choice. You’ll see. Everything will be just fine.”

Fluttershy smiled from beneath her mane. Her smile vanished, however, when she heard a faraway voice shout, “Dash!” Everyone seemed to hear it, and they looked around the train station in confusion.

Pinkie Pie thought to glance upwards, and she smiled in recognition. “Oh! This will be fun!” She took a couple of steps back from Rainbow Dash, a look of glee and anticipation on her face.

Rainbow Dash glanced upwards, and her eyes widened in shock as a grey pegasus javelined out of the sky and enveloped her in what might be described as an ‘impact hug.’ Fluttershy squeaked and leapt out of the way. Pinkie Pie literally fell over laughing. The pair tumbled across the train platform and into a bench. A dazed Rainbow Dash picked herself up. “Wow. Take it down a notch, Der—ooff!” The yellow-maned mare enveloped Rainbow Dash in a bear hug.

“Are you leaving, Rainbow Dash?” She asked.

“Yeah.” Rainbow Dash glanced at her friends. “Yeah, I’m leaving for awhile.” The grey mare threw herself into another hug. “But I’ll be back soon enough. We all will.”

“Don’t go, Rainbow Dash.” She sounded like she was crying.

Rainbow Dash pushed her back to arm’s length. “Hey, hey, stop that. We will be. . . we’ll probably be just fine. Besides, my friends need me.” The grey mare’s dandelion-colored eyes were full of tears. Also, they were a bit crossed. Dash continued. “Ok, here’s the deal. While I’m away, I need you to look after Ponyville for me, you got that? Somepony has to take care of my town, and I can’t think of anypony better than you. You make sure everypony is being good. Can you do that for me? Please?”

The grey mare thought for a moment, and then nodded and smiled. “Ok. You be careful Rainbow Dash.” Then she turned and trotted away. When she didn’t think anyone was looking, Rainbow Dash wiped at a corner of her eye. Then she trotted over and scooped her bags onto her back.

Twilight spoke up. “Well, this is it. Is everypony ready to go?” Twilight spoke lightly, but it was a weighted question. The friends glanced at one another, and then they all nodded. Even Fluttershy.

They gathered up their bags and boarded the train. Twilight glanced back over her shoulder at Ponyville. Of course she’d get to see it again. Right?

The rhythmic click-clacking of the train gliding down the tracks had nearly lulled Twilight Sparkle to sleep as she leaned her head against the window. The morning sun was no longer shining through Twilight’s eyelids, but she was still aware of her friends around her. Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy were playing a game against Rainbow Dash and Spike, and they seemed to be losing. Rarity spoke with a waiter while Applejack studied a menu.

“ So.” Rarity was saying. “Are you saying all of these dandelion flatbreads are wood-fired?”

“Yes ma’am.” The tawny waiter nodded. “We have a stove in the prep car we can stock with hickory or maple, at your request. Most everything served warm can be cooked over the wood of your choice.”

“And these dipping oils?” Rarity pressed.

“We actually have 17 different flavors.” He said proudly. “Four of them aren’t even on the menu yet.”

“Goll-ly.” Applejack said. “This train’s got more food than most of Ponyville. There’re almost too many options.”

“Well.” Rarity glanced around the train at her friends. “We will simply have to sample them all before we decide, wont we? You can do that, can’t you?”

“Right away.” He turned and trotted towards the front of the car, opened the door and let himself through. The sounds of the train grew louder for a moment, and then grew muffled again.

Rarity waited until he left the car, then she practically squealed with delight, throwing herself across a velvet cushion. “Oh, this is so wonderful! I’ve never travelled in such style before.” She sat up and looked at the game going on in the corner. “Anypony care to join Applejack and I in sampling this food?”

Rainbow Dash didn’t stop studying the game board. “Absolutely. I’m starving. Just give us one more minute.” She made a couple of adjustments to the game pieces. “Ok, I build a bridge here and move three ponies across the river.”

“Hey!” Pinkie Pie looked worried. “You surrounded my castle!”

Rainbow Dash looked smug. “And that’s the game!”

Spike looked wistfully at some cards in his hands. “Awww, I didn’t even get to play my blizzard spell.”

“So you had the blizzard card this whole time.” Pinkie Pie noted.

Fluttershy whispered, “Oh, you can still play it if you want to. I don’t mind.”

Spike sighed and set his cards down. “That’s ok. I’m feeling hungry too.”

Pinkie Pie bounced into the center aisle of the train car. “Well, I want to play another round while snacking! Who’s up for a game of Castle Canterlot?”

“I’ll play, dear.” Rarity offered. “Although you may have to refresh me on the rules. It’s been awhile since Sweetie Belle first showed me how to play.”

“I’d love ta play a round.” Applejack spoke up. “But I’d rather wait ‘til after I’ve eaten, if it’s all the same to you ponies.”

“Maybe Twilight would like to play!” Pinkie Pie said.

“I don’t know.” Rainbow Dash shook her head. “I think she’s asleep.”

Spike shook his head. “I’m not surprised. I don’t think she slept at all last night. And she got me up super early this morning to help her double-check the checklist she made to double-check her checklist.” Spike sighed deeply.

Rainbow dash, Applejack and Pinkie Pie laughed. Fluttershy scooped him up in her hooves. “Oh, but you’re still just a baby dragon. You need your sleep or you might get sick.”

“Enh.” Spike shrugged. “I’m kind of used to it by now. Mostly I just give Twilight a hard time about it out of habit.”

“Here’s an idea.” Applejack jumped to her feet. “Maybe if we keep her awake now, she’ll get a good night’s rest tonight. Get her sleep schedule back to somethin’ normal.”

“Darling, Twilight Sparkle is an adult.” Rarity pronounced it ah-dult. “There’s no need to treat her like a cranky newborn filly.”

“I’m not treatin’ her like anything!” Applejack stepped back, offended. “I’m offerin’ a solution to a problem.”

“Besides,” Rainbow dash added. “She’ll probably want to get in on some of this awesome-sounding food. She won’t thank us for letting her sleep through that.”

“I don’t know that we should wake her up.” Pinkie Pie wrapped an arm around Applejack and pulled her in close, then proceeded to whisper very, very loudly. “We’ve seen how she can get when she’s low on the old snoozaroos.” Pinkie Pie made a series of very accurate crazy-Twilight faces.

That seemed to resolve the dispute. Everyone exchanged worried glances and nodded in sage agreement. “I’m not asleep, and I can hear you.” Twilight Sparkle said into the quiet. Everyone froze. Twilight lifted her head and blinked, peering blearily out of the train window. “Hey, what is that?” She asked.

Pinkie Pie leapt atop Twilight’s back (‘OOOF!’) and squinted into the distance where the train was headed. “What is what now? You really need to be more specific when you ask a question.”

“Up ahead.” Twilight pointed from below the level of the window, being unable to see with Pinkie Pie standing on her. “Right there, right where we’re headed. Is that smoke?”

There was a horrible metallic shriek as all of the train’s emergency brakes activated at once, pitching everyone into the front of the train car. Twelve cushions, six packed bags, two paintings, a blanket, seven menus and half of a bucket of Pinkie Pie’s popcorn joined the six ponies and Spike in a jumble between the floor and the wall. Sparks flew up in a shower past every window of the train as the car shuddered and jumped a bit. Twilight was certain they would derail, and she put up a purple shield around her friends and the junk piled atop them. Thankfully the train stayed on the tracks, and eventually they shuddered to a stop. Applejack reached over and picked up her hat, revealing a startled and worried Fluttershy.

“Is everypony all right?” Applejack asked.

Pinkie Pie plucked game board pieces out of her mane. “I think so.”

Twilight dropped the shield and sagged in relief. Everyone began picking themselves up and dusting themselves off. Rarity reached over to pull the popcorn bucket off of Spike’s head. “Wait!” Spike’s voice was muffled, and it sounded like his mouth was full. “I’m almost done. Mfff. . . buttery. . .” Rarity recoiled. Rainbow Dash laughed. Twilight pried open the door, spilling cushions and game pieces out into the mid-afternoon sunlight.

“Come on you guys. We have to find out what happened.” Twilight stepped out and leapt down to the ground below. They were a fair way from the mountain range, and the surrounding rocky terrain teemed with conifers. The still air smelled softly of pine in the early-afternoon sun. She started a slow trot towards the engine. Her companions stepped out into the sunlight to follow her. Up ahead, a disaster had clearly taken place. Another train had jumped the tracks and broken train cars were strewn everywhere. Two of them had clearly been on fire and then been put out, and a huge column of smoke drifted into the still air.

The conductor leaned out of the window of the engine and called out to Twilight. “We need to find out if there’s anypony still in those cars!”

“We will.” Twilight answered. “Send anypony who wants to help.”

“Of course. Y’know, it’s a good thing there was so much smoke. Around this bend and behind those trees, we’d have never seen the wreck in time.” The conductor whistled through his teeth. “We got real lucky here today, real lucky.”

Twilight nodded in comprehension. “C’mon everypony.” Twilight turned her trot into a gallop. “I have a terrible feeling about this.”

“It’d be weird not to.” Applejack had grabbed a loop of rope from her pack and set it about her neck before disembarking. “I’ve never seen a train wreck before.”

“It’s worse than that.” Twilight slowed as they approached the first upended train car. “This must be the train Celestia was on.”

Rainbow Dash gasped and flew ahead to the nearest overturned railcar, a passenger car on its side across the tracks. She fought with the door, but it looked jammed. Rainbow Dash turned and kicked the door in, and then darted inside. Twilight called after her. “Dash, be careful!”

“Twilight, this is bad, isn’t it?” Applejack stopped scanning the wreck and began scanning the surrounding trees. “I mean like. . . bad bad, you know?”

Twilight nodded grimly. “I’ve never even heard of a train derailing anywhere in Equestria. At least not in my lifetime.” Twilight slowed as they reached the car Rainbow dash had disappeared into. “The history books mention this sort of thing, but only back when trains were still fairly new inventions.”

Pinkie Pie looked a bit upset. “So, you think somepony wanted this train to crash?”

Twilight Sparkle nodded. “DASH!” She shouted.

There was a small crash, as though some luggage was tossed aside, and Rainbow Dash reappeared. She flung herself down in front of Twilight in a fighting stance, crouched and ready for anything. After she glanced around and didn’t see a fight going on, she relaxed and rolled her eyes. “Geez Twilight, I expected a manticore at the least.”

Twilight took her friend by the face. “Dash, this might not be an accident. We need to keep checking the train cars for survivors, but we also need to stick together and be careful. We’ll follow and keep a lookout.”

Rainbow Dash nodded, and she continued to the next closest car, this one lying at a slant atop another car. She dove in, rummaged around a bit and flew back out, shaking her head. Three cars later, Rainbow Dash kicked in the door, only to be flung hard out of the doorway and into the top of the train car behind her by a bolt of magic. Applejack and Rarity galloped towards the train door with Twilight hard on their heels as Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie and Spike helped Rainbow Dash up. A stallion’s voice shouted from inside, “Hold your hoofin’ fire! For the love of berry tarts Trig, that might be a rescue party!”

Another voice, this one a bit high-strung. “I’m sorry, Stal.”

Applejack peeked into the open door and immediately dropped to the ground as another bolt of magic sailed out, taking the hat off her head flinging it behind them where it hit the dent Rainbow Dash made in the train car, and then landed neatly on Rainbow Dash’s head.

“Trig! Oh, for the love of Celestia. . .” There were scuffling sounds from inside the train car. “Just stay here and don’t do anything, you understand? Don’t. Do. Anthing.” A moment later, a black pony appeared wearing a helmet emblazoned with Princess Celestia’s cutie mark. A personal bodyguard.

Rainbow Dash was unimpressed. She stalked forward menacingly, still wearing the cowboy hat. “Hey! Nopony fires at my friends!” Pinkie Pie grabbed her by the tail and held her back.

The pony who must have been Stal held up his hooves. “Woah, take it easy there killer. Was anypony hurt?”

Twilight glanced at Rainbow Dash and rolled her eyes. “I think it’s fair to say we’re fine. What about you? What happened here?”

Stal glanced around suspiciously then looked back to Twilight. “The Princess told us you would be the first ones to show up. Are you Twilight Sparkle?” Twilight nodded. “Ok then,” He continued, “Before you come any closer tell me this. How big was Spike when he was hatched?”

Twilight felt as though the bottom of her stomach had been filled with sand. Changelings. Of course. She heard Fluttershy gasp; she’d figured it out too. Oh, things certainly were ‘bad bad’ as Applejack noted, but it was worse than that. Celestia either wasn’t here, or was hurt pretty badly. Otherwise she’d be able to verify their identities herself. Twilight answered. “I’d say he was about fifty feet tall.”

“WHAT?!?” Spike looked stunned.

Stal nodded in relief. “It’s good to meet you. I’m Stalwart. My partner in there is Hair Trigger. You’ll have to forgive him, he’s kind of shaken up. We have three injured, four unharmed and the two of us. Thanks to the Princess, we didn’t lose anypony.”

Twilight thought she had it figured out. “And Celestia figured the accident was caused by changelings. So she left her bodyguards to look after the injured, probably told you two to get everypony onto the next train scheduled through here, which she would have known would be the train she sent to pick us all up.” Twilight glanced behind her. “She probably knew that this curve would make us certain to crash into your derailed train, so she set fire to those two train cars in the hopes that the smoke would give our conductor enough warning to stop in time. The Princess must not be here, or she would have come out to verify our identities for herself. The only thing I can’t figure out is why she left when there were injured ponies here.”

Everypony looked impressed with Twilight or worried about the situation. Stalwart looked very impressed. “Wow! I mean, she said you were smart, but that’s incredible! All I know is that the Princess headed north into the woods after making sure everypony would be alright. She insisted she go alone, but she left us specific instructions. She wants all seven of you to follow her. She said that you would know how to get in touch with her, and to hurry.”

Twilight nodded, her face growing determined. “Ok. Applejack, I need you, Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie to go back to the other train and gather up all our stuff. Anything we can carry through the woods. And make sure to grab a quill, ink and some parchment for Spike. Spike, get a message to Celestia right away. Tell her where we are, and ask for instructions.”

“You got it, sugarcube.” Applejack snagged her hat back off of Rainbow Dash’s head and put it on. “C’mon Spike, girls. Let’s shake a leg.”

“I was how big when I hatched?” Applejack dragged Spike away by the tail.

Twilight stepped toward Stalwart a bit, then pounced on the larger pony, her horn glowing a bright purple. “Hey!” He shouted. Twilight concentrated for a bit, then relaxed and stepped back. He was unchanged.

“I’m sorry.” She explained sheepishly. “I just had to make sure you are what you look like.”

“Oh, I get it.” Stalwart brushed himself off. “But maybe you could just ask next time. That is one intensely uncomfortable sensation.”

Twilight shrugged. “Rainbow Dash, Rarity, I’d like you two to help Stalwart here move the injured onto our train.”

“Of course, Twilight.” Rarity said.

Rainbow Dash scoffed. “Sure, if this guy’s friend in there will let us get in the door.”

Stalwart rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. “I’ll go see to him.” He turned back to Twilight. “In the meantime, what are you going to do?”

Twilight looked around at the dozen or so train cars strewn about the tracks. Only six of them looked like they were blocking the tracks. “Since I’m not sure how well trains move in reverse, I’m going to try and clear the tracks to let you all through.”

Stalwart eyed her skeptically. “Are you going to want a hoof with that?”

Twilight sighed heavily. “Honestly, I might. I’ll let you know.”

Within a couple of minutes, Rainbow Dash and Rarity walked by with the conductor stretched across their backs, followed by a pair of serving staff carrying another injured staff member. Stalwart and Hair Trigger followed carrying the third injured pony. The other survivors trudged by while Twilight lifted the first train car with her purple magic and shoved it off the tracks. Then she lifted another. Some of the ponies stopped to watch. Twilight struggled to lift the third, but she planted her hooves and leaned forward, and the train car moved. She had trouble lifting the fourth, so she just shoved it roughly off the tracks, scraping it along the ground. As she tried to lift the fifth she felt other unicorns adding their strength to hers, and it moved easily. The last one was the engine, and it was much heavier than the others. Even with help, she could barely lift it. It moved in small increments and seemed to take forever, but eventually it tumbled clear.

Twilight opened her eyes, breathing heavily, and looked around. Two unicorns from the wreck and Stalwart had stopped to help her with the heavy lifting, and all three looked exhausted. One unicorn, dressed as a waiter, collapsed to the dirt. Even Stalwart was gasping for breath. Twilight smiled at them, feeling quite proud despite herself. She trotted off in search of her friends. “Thanks for the help, everypony.”

Stalwart slowly shook his head at her in wonder. “Woah. . .”

Twilight Sparkle found her friends gathered around their train, their packs set out neatly. She noticed Spike was holding a scroll. “Here Twilight,” He said. “I got a response already. Read it.”

Twilight felt magically exhausted, so she picked up the scroll with her hooves and laid it out on the ground. “Hey, this looks like a map. See, this x she drew must be the crash, and this arrow shows where she’s gone. Well, I guess we have a direction.” She glanced at the bottom of the map and gasped in horror. “She says they’ve taken the Elements of Harmony.”

04: The Hive

There wasn’t much light beneath the canopy of pine trees. The friends seemed to trot through a sea of lengthening shadows as the afternoon sun began moving toward the nearby mountain peaks. The air was crisp without being too cold, and it smelled of pine and fresh loam. Twilight figured the trees must have been ancient because they stretched majestically into the sky. She wished they’d been hiking this forest under different circumstances. Without her concern for Princess Celestia and the danger they were all in, she would have appreciated its beauty. The forest seemed timeless, as though they walked between the pillars of some ancient and forgotten temple. As it was Twilight Sparkle was tense and alert, trying to watch every direction at once. Every startled woodland creature and rustle in the branches made her twitch and jump. It didn’t help that the carpet of branches, pine needles and other plant detritus made Pinkie Pie spring even higher than normal.

“Wheeeeeee!” Pinkie Pie leapt into the air. “It’s just like my trampoline back home, except it’s everywhere! C’mon, you have to try this!”

Twilight whirled on her. “For the last time!” She whispered fiercely. “Shush! There could be changelings all through these woods. Or worse! So for the love of Celestia, be quiet!”

“Oops! Sorry.” Pinkie Pie whispered back. “I forgot. . . You still have to try this, though!” Pinkie Pie sproinged into the air quietly a few times, and then attempted a front-flip. She turned tail-over-mane and overshot, landing on her face. Her packs spilled open. Everyone stopped to glare at her. She looked around sheepishly. Applejack helped her scoop supplies off the forest floor and put them back in her packs. Pinkie Pie was humming under her breath by the time they finished. Everyone else had continued on. Applejack grabbed Pinkie by the mane and drew her eye-to-eye with her. Applejack’s eyes went wide and serious before contracting to angry slits. Pinkie Pie cowered a bit. Applejack popped a hoof up in between them, and then slowly put it to her lips, glaring all the while. Then she turned and trotted off to catch up with her friends. Pinkie Pie gulped, then followed.

They wended their way through the massive pines, skirted a rather large lake, and then followed what might have been an animal trail, heading a little more north than east. When the sun hit the horizon and began to set, Twilight called for a stop. Rarity and Fluttershy dropped their packs and tried to catch their breath a bit. Twilight spoke quietly. “Dash, I want you to fly straight up and scout around a bit. Let us know if you see anything.”

“Sure Twilight.” Rainbow Dash unslung her packs and tossed them aside. Then she flew up and shouldered through some branches, disappearing from sight. She reappeared almost immediately. “Um, what am I looking for exactly?” She asked quietly.

“Anything out of the ordinary.” Twilight answered. “Buildings, any large clearings, umm. . . smoke. . . oh wait!” Twilight began rummaging madly through her packs. “Don’t go yet!” Rainbow Dash flew back down, pine needles stuck through her mane and tail. Twilight withdrew more parchment, ink and a quill, giving them to Spike. “Here, write this. ‘We’ve got eyes in the sky. Let us know where you are, if you can.’ And send it.”

Spike scribbled quickly in the last of the fading light, rolled the parchment up and blew a bit of green dragonfire down its length. The parchment blew into dust and vanished from sight. Twilight nodded to Rainbow Dash, who nodded back and shot into the sky like an arrow, showering her companions with pine needles and pine cones.

As shadows thickened, Twilight began to have trouble seeing her friends. Spike spoke into the darkness. “Hey Twilight? What is this?” He didn’t sound alarmed. Twilight squinted, and made out the outline of a vague shape he was holding up.

“Oh, that’s called a pine cone.” Twilight said softly. “They grow on coniferous trees like these, and when the time is right they open and release seeds. It’s how they reproduce.”

Spike nodded. “Oh, ok. Cool. I just don’t think I’ve ever seen one before.”

Twilight smiled. Applejack stepped closer and spoke up. “Um, Twi’? Should we maybe set up camp here?”

“No.” Twilight’s voice was resolute. I’m not leaving Princess Celestia alone in these woods tonight. Not if there’s a chance she needs us.” Applejack acquiesced with her silence. The companions waited together beneath the spread branches of the majestic pines. Fortunately, they didn’t have long to wait.

“Um,” Pinkie Pie said to nobody in specific. “My knee feels pinchy.”

As the sun began setting behind the nearby mountains, Princess Celestia crept silently through the woods. Silently may be a bit of an overstatement, but she certainly made less noise than a chipmunk or a mouse. Centuries of practice made it second nature. She also crept almost invisibly through the forest, having long ago mastered a light-bending spell invented by Starswirl the Bearded. She’d even improved it. When she held still she knew she’d be invisible to any kind of sight. Even moving, she appeared as a strange blurring, a subtle smudging of the forest floor. Scanning the ground carefully, she found another faint hoofprint and changed her course slightly, following the changelings back to their lair. Most of them would have flown through the forest, knowing they couldn’t be spotted from the sky and leaving no trace of their passing on the forest floor. They hadn’t used any kind of traceable magic, but that meant that at least two of them had to have carried the heavy case containing the Elements of Harmony the hard way. They never seemed to suspect that Celestia could read tracks the earth pony way. As she ghosted through the trees, her one concern was that she might alert the changelings to her presence. If warned, they might try to move the Elements someplace else, and that was unacceptable.

Celestia froze in place as still as any statue, and faded into invisibility. She kept her breathing slow and measured, and scanned the forest using only her eyes. A few moments later, a darker shadow crept out of the shadow of a tree. Its black carapace glistened in the fading light. It scanned the ground as it scuttled through the dirt and undergrowth smoothly, without hurry. Excellent. Celestia thought. A patrol. The hive can’t be far. The changeling scout crawled closer, rustling pine needles and dirt underhoof. It swung wide, angling right past Celestia’s position. It drew close enough for Celestia to clearly see its blue, pupil-less, soulless eyes even in the gathering gloom. She calmly drew a deep breath and held it, and she mentally prepared a spell to use in case the creature discovered her. The changeling stopped suddenly, snuffling at the ground. Then it chittered to itself, lifting its head into the air and sniffing around slowly. It was close enough to smell now; a sharp, oily and unpleasant scent that stung the nostrils. Another moment, Celestia thought to herself. She prepared to drop her veil.

More chittering and scuttling from a short distance away and another changeling crept into view, then another. Soon there were four of them about twenty feet away making hushed but urgent noises in their insectile language. The changeling near Celestia chittered back, again sounding hushed and urgent. Then it flowed away across the forest floor towards the other four. Celestia allowed herself to breathe out very slowly, and she smiled to herself. They were making every attempt to be quiet, it was clear they were trying to hide from pursuit. She relaxed her will and let the spell she’d prepared go. If they remained unaware that she’d tracked them this far, she still had a chance. All she had to do was reach the entrance to their hive unnoticed, and then she could hopefully find the Elements of Harmony and get them to Twilight Sparkle and her friends. Celesta was a little alarmed at how much stronger the changelings had grown over the past fifty years. Chrysalis had overwhelmed her with sheer force during their last altercation, an outcome the Princess would never have expected. Maybe while she was here, she could find a clue as to what had changed.

The insectile argument stopped abruptly as five oily-black heads turned to look at a point above Celestia’s field of vision. Their gazes dropped towards her just before a small cloud of smoke drifted into view and coalesced with a soft *pop* becoming a scroll of parchment which promptly bounced off of Celestia’s invisible nose, fell and rolled to a stop against her hoof. The Princess had a brief moment to reflect upon the state of events, and she used that moment to berate herself for not considering this eventuality.

As one, the changelings hissed in challenge. Celestia dropped her glamour and clamped a bubble around the cluster of changelings, hoping to keep them from calling for help. The four enraged creatures sheathed themselves in sickly green power and began flinging themselves at the makeshift shield, trying to bash their way out. Four of them? Celestia cursed herself for being a fool and flung herself after the fifth. She caught a glimpse of a black form flitting between the trees as she took to the wing. The changeling saw her giving chase, and began a high-pitched cry intended to alert the hive. It vanished over a small rise and through a break in the trees. Celestia angled for more height, and burst upwards into a moderate clearing covered in bare dirt and green, sticky-looking secretions. In the center of the treeless hollow rose a mound of dirt and rock and solidified green slime punctured by a hole no larger than a small pony. She’d found the hive. Now she simply had to ensure they didn’t relocate the Elements.

But all around her, the alarm call was taken up and repeated by a multitude of throats. The forest echoed with alien threats. Black shapes floated into the air all around Celestia as the last of the sunset faded into twilight. Changelings began boiling out of the hive entrance. Celestia took a deep breath before her entire form burst into radiant, blinding light.

In growing darkness, Twilight began to feel a gnawing dread that made her insides churn. What if she’d put Celestia in some sort of danger? Or did Pinky Pie’s pinchy knee mean danger for them? Of course she shouldn’t have sent that scroll. What a terrible idea. Her breathing sped up. All of her fears were confirmed the moment she heard the high-pitched, ululating screams rising out of the forest to the north. Then a bright light blazed into existence from the same direction, like a sunrise in miniature, casting stark shadows dappled with bright white across the six companions. Twilight had caused this, and she knew it. Dash burst back through the branches shouting “Let’s go! Let’s go!” What have I done? Twilight wondered as they grabbed their bags and began running toward the source of the light. Rarity lit her horn to help everyone keep their footing, and Twilight did the same. When Spike started lagging behind, she lifted him onto her back.

Twilight ran frantically despite the extra weight. Her guilt was only outpaced by her rising panic. Celestia was in danger, and they were moving too slow. “Dash! Fly ahead and see what you can do to help the Princess!”

“I’m on it!” Rainbow dash flashed out of sight through the trees, leaving a brief and faint rainbow-colored streak in the air. By hoof she’s fast. Twilight thought. I just hope she’s fast enough. The strange alarm had stopped, but now they could hear the occasional sound of combat. The electric sounds of magical strikes, the deep thud of impact, and a steady drone from dozens, maybe hundreds of buzzing insect wings. And the source of the light grew brighter and brighter. After several agonizingly eternal minutes, the companions burst from the tree cover and staggered gasping into a clearing.

It was chaos. Black shapes buzzed angrily in every direction, many of them sheathed in green auras of power. High above the clearing shone a small sun in the shape of Princess Celestia. She was too bright to look at directly, and just glancing at her left afterimages smudged across Twilight’s vision. Any changeling that got too close to the Princess was swept up in an invisible whirlwind and flung around in uncontrolled downward spirals. The lucky ones were flung free after a time, the rest were sucked downward towards a solid impact with the ground. A pile of stunned black bodies had piled up on the ground beneath her.

Twilight shielded her eyes with a hoof and she glanced above Celestia, and she saw that some of the changelings had managed to fly above the strength of the swirling winds and plunged directly at Celestia’s back. They looked like sickly green comets. Twilight knew it would only take one to break Celestia’s concentration over her spell, or maybe break her wing and ground her. It was a good bet that the changelings knew that too. However, she was incredibly hard to look directly at, and she never seemed to be where they thought she was. She slipped aside from the fast ones and blasted the cautious into her personal cyclone. Twilight took a moment to study her mentor, watching the way she gently tucked one wing and rolled out from underneath an angled attacker, righted herself and blasted two hovering changelings with small, precise bolts of yellow. Just a nudge of power, but enough to knock them into the winds that surrounded them. She was pacing herself. Another dove for her wing with fangs gleaming, and Celestia spun gracefully into a quarter-turn and planted one shining hind hoof into the creature’s forehead. Twilight thought that maybe its horn had cracked at the impact.

She was so absorbed in the battle that she failed to recognize their own danger until Fluttershy cried out a warning and backed into Twilight’s side. On impulse, Twilight placed a simple shield around her friends as she glanced around, blinking rapidly. Several changelings had noticed them, and had flung themselves in their direction. The first impact was staggering. The changeling flew horn-first into the shield inches from Fluttershy’s face. The shield cracked, and Twilight winced in pain, but the shield held and the changeling dropped stunned to the ground. As did the second. And the third and fourth. Twilight was surprised by their strength, she really thought her shield would hold better than this. Three more changelings lined up to charge together, and Twilight realized what she’d done. She’d trapped her friends in a convenient little fishbowl. They couldn’t scatter or fight, and the shield certainly wouldn’t hold through much more abuse. At her sides, Applejack and Rarity crouched, ready to fling themselves at the charging creatures when they broke through. Twilight glanced around for a way out, and she glimpsed a flash of cerulean blue crouched in the shadow of a strange mound of dirt in the center of the clearing. Twilight’s heart leapt with joy, and as the changelings dove towards them she teleported her friends forward. A flash of purple and three changelings plowed furrows into the ground, kicking up clods of slightly scorched dirt.

Everypony staggered or fell as the ground beneath their hooves abruptly changed. Twilight swayed on her feet. She’d clearly expended more magic than she should have that day. As gifted as Twilight was, she was only a unicorn after all. Shifting those train cars had left her more drained than she thought. And while teleporting herself a modest distance had become downright easy, it grew sharply more difficult to teleport multiple ponies. She heaved in a shaky breath and hoped she wouldn’t have to do that again tonight. Why didn’t I get any sleep last night? She thought to herself. What was I thinking?

They’d appeared right next to the dirt and slime structure where Rainbow Dash had been hiding, trying to look inconspicuous. “Celestia wants us to get inside!” Rainbow Dash shouted over the din as she tapped the mound of dirt next to her. “She’s drawn most of the changelings out of the hive! Now she wants us to get in there and find the Elements!”

Twilight nodded sharply. “Okay. Everypony in the entrance, now!” As a group, the friends circled the strange mound to the lit side, where a green-tinged maw yawned open in the dirt. The effect was fairly genuinely grotesque. Diving head-first into a changeling nest had not been anywhere on Twilight’s to-do list that morning, and she marveled at how much had changed in just a day. Twilight shook her head. They couldn’t afford to hesitate, but her friends were all looking to her to decide what to do next. “Um, Dash and AJ, head in first. Guard our backs; we’ll be right behind you. Everypony else follow them and help if you can. Rarity, stay with me.”

Rarity placed a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder and nodded. “What shall I do, Twilight?”

Twilight didn’t bother with a shield this time. As a pair of changelings flew towards them, she simply aimed her horn at each of them in turn, and blasted them clean out of the clearing. “Just stop them from reaching us. If you try and hold them, I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Just like holding up a heavy shopping bag. Easy.” Rarity looked around, and spotted a changeling crawling over the top of the mound. It spotted her and hissed. Rarity squeaked in surprise, and then hoisted it into the air surrounded by the blue aura of her magic. The changeling kicked against the empty air and buzzed its wings, but Rarity held on grimly. She floated it in front of Twilight, where it stopped moving long enough for its eyes to go very wide before Twilight blasted it into the atmosphere.

“Just like that! Keep them coming! We need to give Celestia a chance to join us!” Twilight blasted another that got too close.

Rarity nodded and grabbed another one. “Just like holding up a heavy, kicking, struggling, fanged and angry shopping bag. No problem.” She said anxiously.

“We’re in!” Pinkie Pie’s voice sounded a bit distant in Twilight’s ears, partly because of the buzzing of the changeling wings, and partly because of all the magic she’d been flinging around today. She felt a bit dizzy, and a throbbing headache was starting just below her temples. She couldn’t keep this up forever. Another black and oily face dove snarling at her, only to be caught in a swath of blue and slowed to a standstill. Twilight hopped to one side, and blasted the changeling straight at Celestia’s radiant form. It was the first thing she could think of to get the Princess’s attention. She hoped it would work, because her next idea involved magically amplifying her voice, and she wasn’t exactly sure how well that would turn out.

She didn’t need to worry. Celestia’s whirlwind contracted a bit, and then exploded outward, flinging changelings in all directions. The resulting silence was deafening, and the darkness left after she dropped her blinding spell was thick and black. Twilight had turned and motioned Rarity towards the hive, but now neither one of them could see. Twilight rubbed her eyes, and when she opened them, Celestia stood before her, adjusting her wings and breathing hard. Her horn was glowing softly and gently, a mere speck compared to her previous performance. Twilight’s eyes ran with tears. Of course this was a reaction to the sudden change in the light, and in no way reflected how happy Twilight was to see that the Princess was unharmed, despite Twilight’s bad judgment calls. She threw her arms around Celestia as Rarity did the same from the other direction.

Celestia sounded very tired. “We must hurry. Please, go in first. I’ll be right behind you.” Twilight nodded and, ears ringing, scampered over to the hive entrance. It smelled like changeling, only ten times worse. Like piles of moldy grains that had set in the sun for a couple of days. Rarity took one whiff and turned away, gasping for cleaner air. She rolled her eyes, held her breath and dove in. Twilight was right behind her. The opening led downwards at a slant, twisting a bit to the right in a tunnel barely tall enough for her to stand upright. Celestia squeezed in behind her, practically crawling. The sides and floor of the tunnel were sluiced with that hard green resin the changelings seemed able to make. Twilight wondered if that stuff was the source of the smell. Interestingly, it seemed very slick when dry, and it made the footing treacherous. She watched her step. Maybe changeling hooves had no problem with it.

The tunnel ended in a small open space, like a cavern. There were three other exits, all of them heading downward. Spike was holding a flashlight and shining it around, and Twilight felt a moment of smug satisfaction. The time she spent agonizing over what to pack was well spent, it would seem. Soon all eight of them stood together, and Celestia turned back and faced the way they came in, bowing her head in concentration. She touched the tip of her horn to the floor of the entrance tunnel, and slowly drew it in a circle, up one side, and down the other. When she hit the center of the floor again, a barrier popped into place looking like a yellow soap bubble. Celestia stood back and considered her handiwork.

“Um, Princess?” Twilight spoke up. “I don’t think a shield will hold for long. These changelings are stronger than I remember.”

Celestia took a moment to speak. “Yes, these creatures have fed recently, and fed well.” She turned to Twilight and her friends, a small smile on her face. “So it’s a good thing this isn’t a normal shield.”

Twilight trotted over to examine it. “Oh, it’s a reflective shield!”

“So, what does that mean?” Pinkie Pie asked.

Twilight’s eyes shone in the soft light of magic. “It turns force back on itself, physical or magical. If a changeling gets a running start at this shield, it’ll bounce back up the tunnel like a pinball.”

Pinkie Pie gasped in wonder. “Oh, that’s so cool! The pranking opportunities alone. . .”

Twilight sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Celestia laughed. “This barrier will not hold forever.” Celestia said as she paced to the opposite tunnel. “But it should hold long enough for our purposes. Follow me.” With that, she turned and squeezed into the next tunnel, taking her light with her. Everyone fell in behind.

Applejack called to Celestia from behind Twilight. “Hey, Princess, how is it you know where we’re headed?”

Celestia called over her shoulder without slowing down. “Because I’ve done this before.” Everyone gasped. Even Twilight wasn’t expecting that answer. Celestia continued. “Every couple hundred years or so, the changelings cross our borders and cause some kind of trouble. I’ve had occasion to be in maybe thirty hives before this one, and they’ve all been exactly the same. It’s strange, really, that a race of creatures that can be so variable in their appearance seems so inflexible in their behavior. They always seem to fall for the same old tricks.”

Twilight asked. “Like drawing them out into the open before coming in yourself?”

“Exactly.” Celestia answered. “Although I wasn’t expecting it to work quite as well as it did. Keep your eyes open.” They emerged into a single chamber that had one other exit. Though the chamber was oddly shaped for some purpose, Twilight couldn’t tell for the life of her what that purpose might have been. They continued on into the next tunnel, crowding in close yet again.

“Princess?” Twilight spoke again. “The changelings. They’re connected to your story, aren’t they? The Darkness we’re going across the ocean to find.”

Celestia stopped walking, and everyone else crowded in to hear her answer. She said. “Yes. They were alicorns once. They are most of what is left of my kind. Varkur has somehow stripped them of their identities, of their personalities. Leeched them of all color. They exist now only as a scourge, they feed and reproduce, and aspire to little else. And they care little enough for whom they hurt or what they consume. Yet I still find it difficult to hurt them in return. A part of me still remembers that, long long ago, they were my kin.” Celestia turned a gaze filled with determination on Twilight. “But do not let this fact stay your hoof Twilight Sparkle. When you face them, they will not hesitate to do you harm. Remember this.” Celestia continued on. Everyone else followed quietly.

The next chamber was vast, the low ceiling a claustrophobic contrast to how far away the walls were. “It’s shaped like a giant pancake! That’s weird.” Pinkie Pie observed. “Hey, is anypony else getting hungry?”

“How could you even think of eating right now?” Fluttershy answered. “This place is so dangerous. . .”

Spike shone the flashlight briefly in Fluttershy’s face. “It has been awhile since we’ve eaten, you know.” He added softly.

Rarity shook her head. “Ugh, the smell alone down here is enough to keep me from eating for a week. What I wouldn’t give for a long soak in a tub right now.”

While the ponies behind them continued to talk quietly, Applejack paced up next to Twilight, ducking a bit so as not to scrape her hat against the ceiling. She nudged Twilight’s side to get her attention, and then she silently mouthed some words at her. I don’t like this. She said. It feels like a trap.

Rainbow Dash appeared at Twilight’s other side, and she nodded towards Princess Celestia moving ahead of them and mouthed, Changeling?

Twilight thought about it. She did lose sight of the Princess after her spell had finished. In fact, she couldn’t have seen much of anything then. If the Princess had been hurt, or more likely had flown away to draw off pursuit, then this Celestia would have to be a fake. It would very neatly explain why the hive seemed so completely empty, and why none of the changelings outside the hive had changed form during the fight. Maybe they didn’t want form-revealing spells being tossed about, so that they could pull a trick like this. It was perfect, really. Lead the companions deep into the hive, and then lock them all away. Then they’d be free to impersonate them all in the world above. Twilight imagined a fake Twilight returning to Ponyville, feeding off of the energy and life of her friends. She was horrified. Before Twilight knew that she’d stopped walking, she found she’d curled herself into a ball on the floor, covered her eyes with her hooves and was gasping huge, panicky breaths. Everypony had gathered around, worried looks on their faces. Celestia reappeared, a look of genuine concern on her face.

“Twilight Sparkle, are you alright?” The soft light of Celestia’s horn was reassuring, but it cast stark shadows across her features, making her seem alien against the slimy-looking green and grey of the low ceiling. Twilight thought furiously. If she pounced and cast a revealing spell on Celestia, she might just reveal a changeling. The companions could handle that, even in such close quarters. But if she revealed Queen Chrysalis, or another such leader of changelings, they’d all be doomed. Twilight had watched as Chrysalis defeated Celestia in single combat, and she had won so quickly. . . Twilight had no wish to rush into that fight. She had to be clever. Very, very, very clever. She’d already come close to giving away their suspicions. She constructed a lie to cover for her collapse.

“I’m okay.” Twilight picked herself up off the ground. “I was just feeling a little claustrophobic, that’s all.” She glanced around sheepishly and, she hoped, convincingly. Then she felt a bit of inspiration. Maybe she could turn her mistake into an opportunity. “Your Highness? Maybe if I focus on something else, I won’t feel so panicky.” Celestia tilted her head questioningly. Twilight continued. “Do you mind if I try a tracking spell on the Elements? I think it’ll help me keep going, give me something else to think about.” Twilight cringed inwardly. It didn’t sound like that smooth of a lie. Surely a changeling would see right through that.

Celestia didn’t hesitate to respond. “Not at all, my student. Feel free. I only ask that you hurry, if you can.” Celestia gestured the way they’d been heading, and then settled on her haunches to wait.

Twilight nodded, and then she closed her eyes. She focused on holding an image of the Elements of Harmony. Specifically hers, the ‘big crown-thingy’. She tried imagining it in every detail; the gold sweep of its contours, the blue gems inset along its length, the purple gem set above the rest in the shape of a star. It was forged while channeling magics she could barely understand at the time, but it was singularly hers. It belonged to her, or represented a portion of her. She wasn’t sure which. But she held the image in her mind as well as she could as she gathered her will and her magic for the spell. Her headache jumped up a notch, but she corralled the pain into a little box in her mind and shut it away. Sure, she was over-extending now, but she could always pay for it later. She let the magic build, and when she figured it was strong enough, she released the energy in a burst, and she sagged in relief.

Immediately she fell over forward and was dragged several pony-lengths away from her friends before she braced her hooves under herself and stopped moving. Sticks rocks and stars, that was too much! Twilight thought to herself. I just wanted a little nudge! Most tracking spells just gave a little tugging sensation, a subtle pull on the horn to tell you which way to go. Twilight felt as though gravity itself had shifted. She’d clearly gone way overboard with the force required. She felt herself turning pink. Or at least a lighter shade of purple. This was kind of embarrassing. Everyone caught up and gathered around her.

“Well,” Applejack drawled, “At least we know we’re headed the right way, wouldn’t you say?” Pinkie Pie laughed a bit, stifling it in her hooves. Spike just rolled his eyes and smiled. “C’mon everypony,” Applejack continued, “Let’s all follow the air hockey puck.” With that she gently nudged Twilight’s flank. Twilight’s hooves promptly slid out from under her and she began sliding along the floor of the cavern on her stomach. She deliberately spun a bit while sliding so that she could turn and face Applejack; the better to glare at her with her forelegs primly crossed. However, when her butt hit a rough patch and she tumbled mane over tail, she decided she’d better watch where she was going.

Sliding through the poorly-lit darkness, Twilight had to keep a careful eye out for bits of rock and uneven patches, especially after one such rock caught her painfully in the armpit. Despite the fact that Rarity, Spike, and the supposed Princess were fighting off the darkness on all sides, Twilight still felt like she had scant seconds of warning to put out a hoof or angle herself to the side. The floor was more or less level, but Twilight felt strongly that it was tilted away from her. It was a strangely disconcerting sensation. Added to that, the patches of solid green would make her slide faster, and she’d have to angle toward bare patches of dirt to slow back down again. Factoring in the smell of the place, she was just glad she didn’t get physically ill.

Pinkie Pie was positively prancing with stifled giggles, and Spike was little better. Entirely out of breath, Pinkie Pie could barely speak, which was usually a good thing. However, this did not prevent her from trying. Gasps of “Have you ever seen. . .?” “Oh, for pony’s sake. . .!” and “My sides hurt. . .!” were mixed in with so much laughter that it seemed hard not to join in. Everyone wound up laughing a bit, even Celestia. Well, everyone laughed except for Rarity, who just looked thoughtful. For the curious, Rarity was contemplating the day she got her cutie mark, remembering the frustration she felt making the outfits they’d needed for the play her school was putting on. And she was wondering just how plausible it was that, being so young at the time, she could have cast a similar spell accidentally. She decided, Plausible enough. And set the matter aside.

They finally reached the far side of the chamber where walls and another small tunnel opening appeared in the gloom. Twilight caught herself and stopped sliding, glancing around with an appeal in her eyes. She clearly did not want to go sliding down uncontrollably into the unknown without friends at her side. Applejack glanced down the new tunnel nervously and then turned to Twilight and nodded. Twilight called out softly, “Spike, would you and Applejack mind going first?” She didn’t like the thought of Celestia being behind them, but she recognized that the only safe way to get her friends out of this mess was to reach the Elements of Harmony before the Princess did. If it turned out she was a grave threat, they could at least defend themselves. Spike gulped audibly, but he nodded. He walked up to Applejack, who had crouched to let him get on her back. He clambered up onto her back and used one foreclaw to hold on to her straw-colored ponytail while he shone his flashlight ahead with the other. Once they started down, Twilight nodded to Pinkie Pie, and then let herself slide in. Pinkie Pie followed.

Now that the floor actually was tilted away from her, Twilight had to work extra hard to keep from sliding out of control. She spread all her hooves out and leaned back against the pull of her spell. After just a couple of minutes she could tell that they were getting close. The pull on her horn was getting noticeably stronger. She was seriously considering breaking the spell off when she hit a huge patch of oily, green resin and her hooves flew out from underneath her. Like a purple cannonball, she shot toward Applejack and Spike. She only managed a small squeak of warning before she swept Applejack’s legs out from under her and sent the three of them flying down the tunnel. Spike lost his hold on the flashlight and it tumbled behind them, sending them all sliding into darkness. Twilight stilled her panic, stilled her thoughts, closed her eyes, and with a mental twist she broke her spell. Fortunately, that let them slow down a little bit before they ran out of tunnel and they all piled into a wall. The impact knocked the breath out of her, and for a bit Twilight just lay there stunned.

Far above them, up the sloping tunnel, Spike’s flashlight spun slowly as it slid after them, revealing in brief and eerie flashes a distant Pinkie Pie racing after them. Twilight called up a bit of light and revealed a disheveled Applejack underneath her, smooshed between her and the end of the tunnel. Spike lay next to them, sprawled across what looked to be a threshold or a doorway. The room beyond stretched into darkness. Twilight extricated herself from Applejack’s tail and stood up on shaky legs. She figured she could sleep for a week. She also figured that this room must be their destination. She reached down to help Applejack up. “Are you okay?”

“Ugh. I’m thinkin’ so.” Applejack staggered to her hooves and looked around blearily. She stretched out each leg in turn, checking for injuries. She scooped her hat back onto her head. “Remind me ta pick up some postcards from the gift shop while we’re here. This place is ab-so-lutely mah new vacation spot.”

“Everypony okay down there?” Pinkie Pie called out as she trotted up. However, since she’d picked up Spike’s flashlight in her mouth on the way down, it sounded more like, “Erryony oghey own air?” Twilight and Applejack both nodded. Rarity caught up next, asking the same question, followed by Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash. Celestia filled the tunnel behind them. Spike still lay across the threshold of the room before them, and in the tiredest voice he could manage, he said, “This. Vacation. Sucks.”

“C’mon Spike,” Fluttershy reassured the little dragon. “We’re almost there.”

Without looking up or moving at all, he reached out toward Pinkie Pie, who promptly dropped the flashlight into his outstretched claw. He sighed and, making it look like an enormous effort, swung the flashlight and pointed it into the room before them.

It was a small room, just seven or eight pony-lengths across, and it was cluttered with things. Mostly junk at first glance. There were a few piles of bits, some scuffed or dirty gemstones thrown about, and a few miscellaneous odds and ends. There were knickknacks, a bar of soap, a few piles of clothing, stuff like that. Twilight thought that maybe these were the leftovers. When a changeling leaves its double-life after it has fed, it must do something with the stuff it brings back. This looked for all the world like the saddest junk closet Twilight had ever seen. Twilight, for the first time, contemplated what happened to ponies who were impersonated. Maybe they were held prisoner somewhere. Maybe they were killed. Twilight’s heart sank.

Spike’s flashlight fell across an ornately carved, bejeweled and slightly muddy chest against one wall. “Is that it?” He asked uncertainly.

Celestia sighed, although whether in relief or in exasperation it was hard to tell. “Yes, that’s the chest of Elements. And it’s in the same place they always throw valuables. Honestly, they never change.” Twilight Sparkle knew there was no way she’d be able to open that chest on her own. The way it was locked and warded, she doubted anypony but Celestia herself could undo the magical bindings on it. Glimpsing that chest, Twilight felt as though a small weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. She didn’t need to prove that this was the real Celestia. They were about to find out, for better or worse.

Celestia entered the junk room, striding purposefully despite the low ceiling. Twilight nodded to Rainbow Dash and Applejack, who flanked her as she followed Celestia in. Twilight quietly shrugged out of her packs and set them to the side. Behind them, everyone else crowded forward to see what would happen. Celestia stood one pace away from the chest and examined it critically before she bowed her head and closed her eyes. Just before she moved to open it, she turned to look behind her. Twilight, Applejack and Rainbow Dash all relaxed from crouches and tried to look natural. It didn’t work. Twilight in particular looked like she was just caught with her hoof in the cookie jar. Celestia smiled sadly. “I see. Twilight Sparkle, would you care to verify my identity?” Twilight didn’t speak or move. “Very well. Then perhaps this will be identification enough.” She turned back to the case, slipped her horn into the lock, and after a pair of breaths and a soft glow, the case unlatched, swinging open. When she stepped back, the Elements of Harmony were visible in the soft light from her horn.

Twilight Sparkle sighed in relief, and then she threw herself against the Princess in a pony hug. Cheering and congratulations arose from behind her. Twilight finally allowed herself to relax a little. Things could only get better from here. All they had to do was leave, right? Looking at her dear friends through a blur of exhaustion, she noticed one of them acting strange. Spike was staring at Rainbow Dash’s tail, and he had a faraway look in his eyes. That seemed kind of weird, but she didn’t get the chance to ask if he was alright. Because that’s when the entryway snapped closed with a deafening boom, leaving nothing but a blank stone wall covered in icky green resin. The cheering stopped abruptly. Into the silence, Celestia said, “That’s new.”

05: The Trap

There was a terrible moment of silence, followed by everyone talking at once.

“Princess, please tell me that was you.” Applejack said.

“Where’d the door go?” Pinkie Pie bounced over to examine the now seamless wall.

“I can assure you, I did not seal us in a box.” Celestia answered with a frown.

“Was this a trap?” Rarity sounded more offended than afraid. “This was a trap, wasn’t it? How impossibly rude.”

“Oh no!” Fluttershy squeaked.

“AJ.” Pinkie Pie motioned to her friend. “Maybe you can kick the door back open. Or at least move it.”

Applejack was no slouch. Years spent working on her farm kept her in excellent shape. She was easily the strongest of her companions. Without hesitation she turned and kicked with both hindfeet at the spot they had entered the room. The resulting thunderclap of noise made everyone jump, and Applejack looked around sheepishly. Pinkie Pie shook her head, not seeing any change in the wall.

“Well Ms. Pie,” Drawled Applejack. “Maybe you can break this wall with your forehead.” Pinkie Pie simply glared in response.

“Make room, my friends.” Celestia approached the wall. “Give me a moment to examine this portal. Maybe I can open it.” She touched her horn to the wall and closed her eyes, her horn still glowing softly.

Meanwhile, Twilight Sparkle was thinking furiously. If the changelings had planned on us getting in, how did they spring this trap at just the right moment? She thought. Are we being monitored somehow? Was this a physical trap, or was it sprung magically? Why not seal us outside this room and away from the Elements? Oh, maybe because the real danger is being in this room. With that thought, Twilight felt all the hairs down her spine stand on end. She froze in place and began scanning the room for hidden dangers, but she didn’t know what she was looking for. What, something like a spiked ceiling or the walls closing in? That only happens in books, doesn’t it?

She didn’t notice Spike touching her flank until he said her name. “Twilight?”

Twilight shook her head, annoyed. She needed to think. “What is it, Spike?”

He still seemed dazed and distracted, lost in a worrisome thought. “Pine trees.” He said, staring. “I’d never really seen them before today.” Twilight’s annoyance fell away as she mentally began running down his train of thought. She held her breath. Spike continued in a monotone. “They have a sharp smell to them. I really like it.” Twilight followed his vacant gaze to Rainbow Dash, who was staring into the open chest. “But those pine needles, wouldn’t they be tough to get out of your mane?”

As Rainbow Dash reached into the chest and pulled out an ornate golden necklace inset with a deep red jewel cut in the shape of a lightning bolt, the physical representation of the Element of Loyalty, Twilight hurtled into her from the side as if she’d been launched from a catapult. She slammed Rainbow Dash into the wall and held her there. The necklace clattered to the floor.

“Hey!” Rainbow Dash complained. “What gives?”

With a sinking heart, Twilight could see that Spike was right. There wasn’t a single pine needle anywhere in her mane. Rainbow Dash saw the look in Twilight’s face and knew instantly what she suspected. Dash glanced around the room, and a sly look slithered into her eyes. “Help me!” She shouted. “Twilight’s a changeling! She’s a fake!” With that she jabbed a hoof into Twilight’s throat. It was faster than Twilight could move out of the way. She was stunned by just how painful it was as she felt something crunch in her neck.

Twilight hadn’t been ready for that, but she’d been ready for something. As she took the hit, she fell backwards, still holding on to the fake Rainbow Dash and pulling the imposter on top of her. As they fell, Twilight’s attacker glanced towards the fallen Element and made a grab for it. Twilight didn’t know what would happen if a changeling got a hold of one of the Elements of Harmony, but she didn’t want to find out. So as she rolled to her back, she kicked up with both of her hindfeet and launched Rainbow Dash into the low ceiling. There was a heavy thud of impact, and as the stunned Dash fell back toward her, she caught her with her magic and kept her in the air.

It had only taken a pair of seconds for the entire altercation to take place, and everyone else in the room still stood stunned. From her position on the floor, Twilight’s horn blazed a bright purple, and with an effort of will she peeled her friend’s face away, revealing a black, chitinous creature beneath. She heard a collective gasp, and she heard Fluttershy murmuring, “Oh no. Oh no no no no no. . .” Then Twilight noticed how hard it was to breathe. She tried to inhale deeply, and she immediately began hacking and coughing. Her concentration wavered, and her spell failed, dropping the changeling right on top of her.

Or it would have, if Rarity hadn’t barreled into its side and knocked it to the floor. It kicked at her with its hooves and Celestia slid Rarity to the side with her magic, trying to get her out of harm’s way. It turned to bite at Applejack who had thrown herself forward to help, but she leapt backward out of reach. Princess Celestia enveloped the creature with her magic, but it struggled so fiercely that it managed to accidentally kick Spike in the stomach, even though he had pressed himself against the wall to get as far from the fight as possible. Spike belched a small gout of green flame, and a chunk of the changeling’s leg disappeared in a puff of smoke.

The changeling stopped struggling and its eyes went very wide. Then it let out a sharp, pain-filled cry that filled the room and caused everyone to cover their ears. At the same time, a puff of smoke coalesced above the Princess’s nose, and she stepped backwards as the small chunk of changeling leg appeared and fell to the floor, sluggishly oozing a purple liquid. When its voice died down, Pinkie Pie said simply, “Yuck.”

“Oh, you can say that again, sugarcube.” Applejack breathed, clearly horrified.

“I’m so sorry!” Spike said to the room in general. He seemed equally horrified. “I didn’t mean to do that!”

The changeling no longer struggled as Celestia stared at it, and as the Princess approached it tried to cower away. Celestia’s features changed from a righteous anger to a distant look of worry, before steeling itself into an impassive mask. Reaching a decision, she focused her will, formed a bubble around the changeling and pushed it into the wall furthest from the door, trapping the creature under a dome of yellow light as far from everyone else as she could manage. The changeling hung suspended in the air, as though inside a sideways snow globe.

Then Celestia turned to Twilight Sparkle, still coughing on the floor. Twilight could only see her approach through a veil of watery tears. Celestia studied her for a moment, and then bowed her head and touched her horn to Twilight’s collarbone. A minute passed before Twilight felt a painful swelling in her throat, and there was a panicky moment where she couldn’t breathe at all, followed by a flood of relief. Twilight gulped air into her lungs, heaving great shuddering breaths as her friends crowded around her.

“Thank goodness you’re alright, Twi’” Applejack said.

“I’m so sorry, dear. It all happened so fast.” Rarity added.

Twilight stood on shaky legs, coughed a little more, cleared her throat and managed to say, “I’m fine, I think.” Her voice came out hoarse and scratchy. With a concerned expression, Twilight tried massaging her throat, but cringed away in pain.

“I’d give that some time to heal, young one.” Celestia sounded even more tired than before. Twilight nodded in understanding.

Pinkie Pie studied Twilight’s neck and asked, “What, can’t you just ‘poof’ and glow a bit and she’ll be better?”

Twilight carefully shook her head no as Celestia answered. “Magic as we know it has its limits. Turning the world is a simple matter compared to aligning blood vessels and repairing damage to cartilage or tissues. All I did was push Twilight’s injury back into the right shape. The healing will be up to her. True healing through magic is impossible.” Twilight nodded. That was what she’d learned as well.

Spike picked up the fallen necklace and glanced toward the trapped changeling. He turned to the Princess and offered the Element to her. She lifted it into the air and considered it carefully. “That was well done, Twilight Sparkle. I don’t believe a changeling could have drawn much power from this, but perhaps it could have damaged it. Had it used the Element of Loyalty to attempt to betray us, it might have destroyed this talisman entirely.” Celestia shook her head in frustration, and set the Element back into Spike’s claws. “I have been far too careless. Please forgive me, but we must be sure. This may feel quite uncomfortable, but I ask you to hold still.”

With that Princess Celestia turned and verified each of their identities one by one. Pinkie Pie remarked, “Gah, it feels like there’s bugs everywhere! Oh wait, I’m fine.”

“I don’t feel anything.” Spike shrugged.

“Sayin’ it’s ‘uncomfortable’ is bein’ mighty generous.” Applejack added, nodding sagely.

Celestia levitated the chest of Elements into the center of the companions and set it on the floor. “Please, put these on. Things have become dangerous far faster than I had anticipated.” Applejack and Rarity reached in and pulled out the necklaces, distributing them between the ponies. Rarity helped Fluttershy put hers on while Applejack helped Pinkie Pie. Celestia continued, “The safest place for the Elements for now will be on all of you.”

“But, Princess,” Fluttershy asked timidly, touching the edge of the butterfly-shaped jewel at the hollow of her throat. “What if we lose them, or drop them, or they get snagged on something?” Twilight looked back and forth between Fluttershy and Celestia, clearly wondering what the answer was.

Celestia looked like she might answer quickly, but then she thought better of it. With a frustrated glance at the trapped changeling, she said instead, “A long explanation will have to wait. Please be content when I say that these trinkets will not be parted from you easily. Even yours, my faithful student.” With that, Celestia lifted the crown out of the chest and set it gently atop Twilight’s head. It fit perfectly behind her horn. Twilight seemed to stand a bit taller, as though a weight had been lifted off of her. Celestia smiled at the sight of her protégé wearing her power as though it was her birthright. It seemed to confirm everything that the Princess had hoped Twilight would become. But Twilight was looking at Celestia as though the Princess would be the one to figure everything out. The way all her subjects always looked at her. Celestia’s heart sank a little; maybe Twilight wasn’t quite ready after all.

Celestia took a deep breath and forced herself to look away from Twilight to Spike. “We need to get this Element to its rightful owner. Spike, would you mind. . .”

“Oh no.” Spike replied immediately. “I’ve worn this once before, and it did not end well. Ask another pony.”

“Spike, I only ask you place it in your pack and keep it safe. Nothing more.” Celestia raised one eyebrow at the outburst.

“Oh.” Spike seemed mollified. “Okay, that makes sense.” He unslung his pack and began trying to fit the thick choker-style necklace in. It was only difficult because Twilight had packed his knapsack so completely. He grumbled to himself as he worked.

Rarity looked distressed. “Your Highness, we need to find her. I mean, she must still be alive, right?”

Celestia’s gaze darkened considerably. Her eyes narrowed. Her brow furrowed. Her shoulders slowly hunched, and she lowered her head menacingly. Her teeth bared in a very un-princess manner. When she spoke, the very air throbbed with power. “For their sake, Rainbow Dash best be unharmed.” It took several long moments for the Princess to relax her stance and shift her focus. “Twilight Sparkle, how would you propose we get out of this room?”

Twilight seemed taken aback. She had been so convinced that the Princess would get them out that she hadn’t actually done much thinking of her own. Twilight’s brow creased in thought. And when she spoke, her voice was hoarse enough that it was difficult to understand her. “Heat.” She shook her head and cleared her throat. “Heat would be bad. Too small a space.” Celestia nodded in agreement. “Force would be tricky. We don’t know how much to use. Flying bits of rock would be bad too.” Celestia nodded again. “Can’t. . . can’t we just lift it back up?”

“I have already tried.” Celestia looked vexed. “Something has fallen into place above it, or it has locked somehow. I may as well use force to blow it outward rather than pry it straight up.”

“Well then,” Twilight continued. “I say we ask our gracious host.” She gestured towards the trapped changeling. Celestia nodded in approval.

Everyone looked at the yellow dome against the far wall. Except the changeling was gone. Instead, Pinkie Pie was trapped inside, banging against the side of the shield and begging to be let out. She looked sad to the point of depression. It made Twilight’s heart skip a beat, even though she knew that the real Pinkie Pie stood next to her. Twilight wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, but she reined herself in. Besides, She thought, I won’t have much of a scream for awhile. I might as well save my breath. She stalked up to the edge of the bubble, grim determination and anger in her eyes. When Twilight glanced back and nodded, Celestia dismissed the spell and the fake Pinkie Pie tumbled gracelessly to the floor. When she looked up into Twilight’s eyes, she just looked like a dirty, hurt and lost Pinkie Pie. It was heartbreaking.

Twilight was having none of it. “Take off my friend’s face.” She rasped.

This is a good place to mention that Twilight with no voice is about as far from intimidating as possible. Point of fact, it’s kind of adorable. “What are you talking about, Twilight? Don’t you remember me?” The changeling answered in a perfect Pinkie Pie imitation.

In response, Twilight lifted the imposter into the air and drifted her over to rest in front of Spike. Spike glanced around nervously, but then he squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. The imposter’s eyes went very wide, and in a flash of pale and vitriolic green the Pinkie Pie was replaced by the changeling’s true form. Spike exhaled, and managed to hide his relief.

Twilight walked over. In that same non-voice, Twilight said, “Okay.” She cleared her throat again. “How do we get out?”

The changeling’s true voice was an edged, guttural thing accompanied by a faint buzz, as though it had done a poor job of swallowing a dragonfly. “There is no way out. The hive will open this chamber when they will meet no resistance. Perhaps in a week or so, if you are lucky.”

Twilight’s certainty was absolute. “We will not be here that long.” She rasped. “How did you trigger the door?”

The changeling hesitated, and then motioned to the wall behind where the chest was. “The release is there, set into the wall. But it only closes. It does not open.”

Pinkie Pie bounced over to the wall and found a loose clump of rock that depressed when she touched it. She fiddled with it for a bit, but there wasn’t even a clicky noise. “Well, this wasn’t interesting.” She complained. Twilight turned back to consider their prisoner.

Twilight stood stone still for a minute. She didn’t move a single muscle, but her mind raced along furiously. Seething just beneath the surface was a series of terrible things Twilight was envisioning doing to the changeling. She wanted to punt it in the face, or blast it into the wall, or slam it against the ceiling again. She imagined making Spike breathe more of his fire, maybe removing a hoof or something. She almost talked herself into it too, rationalizing that she might be able to get more information, or discover if it was lying. She told herself that the creature deserved it. Her eye began to twitch. She didn’t notice her friends all backing a step or two away. She did notice that the longer she didn’t move, the more nervous the changeling became. It glanced around. It licked its lips. Twilight felt like the room was spinning a bit; as though she stood atop a precipice looking into a deep abyss, and her head reeled with the vertigo. That is, until a steadying touch on her shoulder made her turn her head.

Princess Celestia stood beside her, staring into her eyes. All at once, Twilight felt ashamed. Celestia had been more than a kind ruler and a mentor to Twilight. The Princess had been a role model, a masterful sculpture of kindness, gentleness and understanding that almost belied comprehension. She had shown Twilight how to care, how to open her heart and let others in. How to see life from another’s perspective. And how not to hate. What would she say if she could see the anger, frustration and hate in Twilight’s heart right now? Twilight hung her head in dejection. She’d come so close to violence. Not violence in self-defense or to protect a friend, but for far darker reasons. The room continued to spin. Hopefully, Celestia wasn’t a mind reader among everything else she was. Twilight felt that she couldn’t bear her teacher’s disappointment.

Rarity spoke before Celestia could. “Is anypony else feeling light-headed?”

Twilight’s head snapped up in alarm. Celestia gasped in comprehension. The room wasn’t very big, and there were eight of them trapped inside. And thanks to Twilight, many of them had been breathing pretty hard. The room must have been airtight. The changeling stifled a mad little giggle. Celestia moved to the wall and closed her eyes. “We are out of time. Twilight, I will try to teleport out of this room and find a mechanism on the other side of the door.”

“No!” Twilight barely made a squeak, but she leapt forward and grabbed Celestia by the tail, breaking her concentration. “You can’t!” She desperately tried to speak clearly. “If you miss. . . If your aim is off. . .”

Celestia nodded in understanding. “I know the risks, Twilight Sparkle, but I say again we are out of time. The longer we delay the more dangerous this becomes.” Twilight shook her head in frustration.

“What’ll happen if she misses teleporting. . . oh.” Applejack’s eyes grew even more alarmed.

Twilight nodded. “She might end up embedded in the rock somewhere. Even a partial miss would probably kill her.”

“Not before I could reach the door, Twilight. And remember, I have been doing this for far longer than you have been alive.” Celestia sounded stern and impatient.

“No.” Twilight shook her head in denial. “Let me do it. I’m much smaller than you. And I’m less important. Equestria needs you. Let me try.”

Celestia had thousands of years experience hiding her emotions, but Twilight very nearly brought her to tears. Young one, Celestia thought, you couldn’t be more wrong. Rather than say anything, rather than argue, Celestia deferred the spot by the wall to Twilight. It caused her physical pain to place her student and her hope for the future in danger, but Twilight was right. In the tunnel beyond the wall, Twilight had a far greater chance of teleporting without mishap. She was a tiny filly, after all. Celestia said only, “Be careful, Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight nodded, and her dizziness spiked. She stumbled before turning to the wall and closing her eyes. She was breathing heavily, and she thought she could see spots dancing behind her eyelids. If her friends were in a similar state, she didn’t have much time. Twilight focused, extending her senses outside of herself, hoping to feel the empty space on the other side. To her surprise, she could sense everything in great detail. The patches of disgusting green stuff stood out in stark contrast with the rough texture of the stone walls. The air on the other side actually felt fresher. Twilight lifted both eyebrows in surprise. This might be easier than she thought. Maybe anoxia is helping me to focus. Twilight came back to herself, shrugged mentally, and then focused her will. With a small pop, she disappeared.

When Twilight reappeared, she stood in the exact center of the space on the other side of the door. She didn’t even fall a centimeter to the floor. She appeared literally exactly where she’d meant to. She gulped a breath of fresh air, and then another as her head began to clear. She hadn’t been producing light with her horn inside the chamber, so she appeared in a deep, oily blackness that made her feel physically blind. However, she lifted each hoof in turn and felt elation bubble up inside her. She’d done it, and done it perfectly. Hah! She turned to the door and drew up a little light. From this side, there clearly was a doorframe, and the door itself was a slab of stone. There weren’t any obvious knobs or levers, but she probably just hadn’t looked hard enough.

There was a soft scrabbling noise from behind her, and Twilight froze. She turned her head slowly, and her light reflected back from dozens and dozens of pale blue, pupil-less eyes stretching back up the tunnel. Oh no. Maybe she could have fooled them into thinking she was a changeling herself, but she was wearing the Element of Magic, and had just appeared out of thin air. Then all the changelings seemed to hiss a challenge at once, and Twilight’s ears drooped in dismay. They swarmed toward her in a rush, a living wall of fangs and chitin.

In hindsight, Twilight wished she’d had different spells prepared in advance. She did know how to cast reflective shields, like the one Celestia set up at the entrance. The only problem was how complicated and involved they were, and Twilight didn’t have time to think. She hastily threw up a simple shield across the tunnel entrance, and as bodies piled against it she turned to examine the door again. Her heart was racing, and she couldn’t see anything that would free her friends. Couldn’t they have just installed a giant lever or something? Twilight thought angrily. A couple of heartbeats later a cluster of changelings, some on the walls and ceiling, rammed their glowing green horns through Twilight’s shield, shattering it. The compressed purple energy fractured and dissolved into nothingness. Twilight didn’t glance backwards, she simply drew up another shield around herself; a small sphere to keep them off her as she began looking over the doorframe carefully, scanning for anything out of the ordinary. Then she was surrounded.

The chittering creatures knew they could break this shield too. Twilight had seriously overextended herself magically, and her last shield had been a thin, brittle thing. Her shield now was little better. However, none of the changelings tried to break her out of it. As they swarmed around her, a few set their hooves against her shield and began rolling her away from the door and up the slope. Twilight had only had a few breaths to study the doorway, but she knew a great deal about secret passages. She’d read three whole books dedicated to architecture and masonry, and all of them had chapters on hidden doorways. Had there been a hidden catch, she should have been able to spot it somewhere around the doorway, but Twilight added another thought. Moving solid stone was no easy feat, especially if one didn’t use magic, which the changeling inside the room hadn’t. Likely, the stone fell into place via gravity, which meant there was no easy way to open the door itself. Of course there was no lever or button. The room was never meant to be opened again easily. The changelings would chisel and gouge their way in when they felt like it, to recover the Elements. If they aren’t content with just impersonating me and my friends in our lives in Equestria.

If only she were as powerful as Celestia. If only she’d let Celestia go first, the Princess could have beaten them all and freed her friends. But the door faded into darkness as the creatures piled around her and rolled her up the tunnel, almost as fast as she’d slid down it. As the shield rolled, Twilight remained upright, suspended by a conscious expenditure of energy as she held her hooves out in four directions. She was pretty clear on the fact that she didn’t want to get any closer to these creatures than she had to. Also, the thought of being spun in loops didn’t really appeal to her. And yet, even holding the spinning globe of energy together was almost too much for Twilight to manage. She gritted her teeth and forced more of her will into the shield, but it was still failing. She was nearing the end of what she could do.

When they burst into the chamber above, the one shaped like a pancake the size of Ponyville proper, Twilight sensed a change in the creatures around her. She couldn’t quite place her hoof on it, but the cadence of their breathing changed, became more excited. Or their movements became more frenetic, urgent. As they neared the center of the room, Twilight looked beyond her captors and noticed hundreds of changelings stretching into the darkness all around her. They crawled across the floor and the ceiling indiscriminately, a writhing mass that nearly unmade Twilight’s concentration right there. She knew she didn’t stand a chance. If a pair of these changelings even sneezed on her shield, it would fracture. Possibly worse, if her magic failed, the light of her horn would go out. The thought of being with these creatures in complete blackness paralyzed her with terror. She couldn’t possibly survive that. Surely the fear alone would stop her heart cold. As that thought hit her, Twilight realized that she’d stopped moving, and the changelings surrounding her retreated to a respectful distance.

That’s when another figure paced into view. It was taller than the other changelings; its horn just barely missed the ceiling when it stood upright. Its mane was short, and faded from a dusky grey to a fiery red. It moved with certainty and authority on thick, powerful legs pocked with holes the way all changelings seemed to be made. Its eyes actually had pupils, however, and its red-orange eyes assessed Twilight and her shield critically before dismissing her as non-threatening.

“Where are the others?” His voice was a mild, buzzing baritone, lacking weight but carrying through the chamber nonetheless.

One of Twilight’s captors answered, “Still below, your grace.” It gazed adoringly at the changeling in charge, as though it relished what might come next.

“Good. Take your contingent back into the tunnel and continue your watch. Two others yet possess magic. Go.” Before he’d finished giving orders he turned back to Twilight, eyeing her speculatively, as a swath of changelings turned and crawled back the way they’d come.

Twilight reached inside herself and found a mote of defiance. She wasn’t beaten yet. Though her voice shook, she tried to speak boldly. “What have you done with Rainbow Dash?”

Twilight had honestly hoped the changeling would answer her. But he only smiled and walked up to her shield. He took one hoof, smashed it through her shield and she dropped to the floor in a heap. “I didn’t quite catch that.” He said, in an almost bored tone of voice. “Behind that little soap bubble of yours, I couldn’t hear what you said.”

When Twilight’s shield dropped, the light from her horn brightened a couple of notches. She picked herself up on shaky hooves and looked up into his eyes. “I said,” She rasped, “What have you done with my friend?”

“Huh.” He still sounded bored, but he added a small, condescending smile on top of it. “It wasn’t the shield at all. You just sound terrible.” And with that he dismissed her.

Twilight watched as his eyes focused elsewhere, as though there were other things he had to attend to. He turned, and in a flash of intuition, Twilight knew that things were about to get much, much worse for her. She had to keep him talking. Her brain scrambled for something, anything she could throw at this creature to keep him from dismissing her as unimportant, as something to throw to his underlings. She shouted at him, “Is that what your plan was all along? Taking Celestia’s place in Canterlot?” Maybe shouted was a strong word. But it was louder than she’d managed before. And the changeling leader paused to reconsider her. She continued. “That’s a stupid plan, and nopony would fall for it for long. Sure, Chrysalis had more power than brains, but I didn’t realize all changelings were that thick.”

The leader turned to face Twilight squarely, a wolfish grin spreading on his face. “My, your precious leader has certainly kept you ignorant. You really have no conception what transpired at your brother’s wedding, do you?” He shook his head in amusement. “It’s a shame that my mission isn’t to educate young foals about harsh realities. I would love to watch your face crumple as you learned the truth. As it is, we are done here.” He turned to the changelings crowding around them in the fading light of Twilight’s horn. “It would be best if this one was taken someplace. . . remote.”

The crowd of creatures surged forward, and Twilight closed her eyes. This was it, then. As the light from her horn failed, and changelings surrounded her in the dark and lifted her up, she reached beyond herself for more power, more magic. It was a reflex, the same way a falling pony will paw at the empty air hoping for something to grab onto even if there’s nothing around. It’s a survival instinct, plain and simple, and exactly as fruitless.

Or at least, it should have been. Yet, when she consciously pushed her senses outward, she felt motes of power all around her. Small sparks of magic, of life, blazed like tiny stars all about her. Many were near her; many more were further above, somewhere through the dense rock and dirt piled above her head. Each one that Twilight could sense seethed with energy, and she opened herself up to that power, mentally drawing it through the crown atop her head and into herself.

Pain like Twilight had rarely known burned through her, as though the inside of her head was being scrubbed with red-hot steel wool. A gratefully detached corner of her mind wondered how long she’d be willing to endure it, and honestly debated letting the changelings take her away instead. At the same time, however, the nearest of the creatures fell away as Twilight lifted up into the air and burst into incandescent light. Her eyes shone, bright flat disks of light, and a penumbra of magic enveloped her. This was more magic than Twilight had ever consciously tried to control before, and what energy she couldn’t keep a grasp on bled away in bright purple rivulets.

The changeling leader turned, shocked, and braced himself in a combat stance. He suddenly seemed ready to take her seriously. “So,” He breathed in wonder, “You comprehend the Elements better than we thought. Although, perhaps you hadn’t considered. . .”

Twilight wondered for half of a heartbeat why he bothered talking. Did he really think she wanted a conversation? The power she’d drawn demanded utterance, or she felt she might fly apart at any moment. While the changeling spoke, Twilight focused her will and sent a shaft of energy coruscating into the darkness, aimed right for his chest. His eyes widened, and he rolled to the side as the changeling behind him was hit with the magical equivalent of three or four battering rams. Large ones. The changeling was lifted from its feet and flung into the two behind it, and so on, clearing a path straight through the suddenly nervous-looking horde of creatures until they all plowed into the far wall. The pair of changelings to either side of the one struck glanced uncertainly at one another and then bolted into the darkness.

The leader rolled gracefully to his feet. “Honestly,” He didn’t sound afraid; he only sounded a little ruffled. “Where do you think your power is coming. . .?”

Twilight was baffled. He’s still talking? That’s fine by me. Keep going, chatterbox. Twilight fired at him again, and again he dodged her strike with the timing and confidence of one who has done this all before. This time, the changeling leader popped out of his roll angry. “You ignorant, mewling newborn! You dare to draw. . .”

Wow, it’s like he hasn’t learned anything. Twilight fired again, this time spreading her blast wide in a cone. Dodge this, creep. Twilight felt a deep satisfaction as she saw him brace himself, lowering his head to place his horn between himself and the oncoming force. Twilight saw the energy she had released splash against a dome of putrid light-green force. He had slid backwards a smidgimeter, but was otherwise unharmed. He rose from his crouch and acknowledged her with a nod. “I must admit, you are stronger than you look.”

In between the words ‘you’ and ‘look’ Twilight took a terrible risk. She teleported right behind him and blasted him again, unleashing even more power than she had the last time. Her aim was true, both with the teleport and her force spell, and the changeling was hurled screaming into the distance. Still floating off of the ground with the excess of her power, Twilight flung herself back towards the tunnel she had come up.

The pain was still tearing at her mind, but the pain was tempered by a sort of enhanced perception. Ever since she’d donned her Element, she’d felt as though her eyesight was sharper, her hearing more acute. She felt like she could count every changeling in the room with her, even the ones she couldn’t see. She could feel them, the same way she could feel which tunnel was the correct one based on the texture of the stone around it. And she sensed much more besides. She felt buoyed by vivid and tangible streams of power, rivers and eddies of force which she could see overlaid atop the real. Not just see, but smell and touch and hear and sense.

Twilight barely thought about hovering off of the ground, she was simply held up by the power coursing around her. She barely had to consider moving, and she drifted where she intended. The sensory input was terribly distracting, but it was also sharp and definite. So Twilight Sparkle had no problem conjuring up a solid shield on her right just before she reached the tunnel entrance, a full quarter second before a wrecking ball of magic crashed into her.

Her shield blazed purple in a quarter dome as it scattered most of the emerald green ball of force, but the impact still shoved Twilight off of her aim for the tunnel and towards the wall instead. With a thought, Twilight spun in the air to brace all four of her hooves against the wall to stop herself, and her mane obscured her snarling face for only a moment as she oriented herself towards her attacker. Another green bolt hurled towards her, and she readied her shield. This attack felt different somehow, but even though Twilight could feel something was off, she couldn’t tell what it was before the attack reached her. As green magic splashed against Twilight’s shield, it clung and spread, dissolving and dispersing her defensive energies like an acid, tearing her power away from her. With a gasp, Twilight realized her danger as the changeling leader appeared before her, emerging from his teleport at full speed and slamming her into the wall with his shoulder.

Twilight instinctively braced herself with her magic, leaning into the impact and feeling her own strength augmented by the force of her will. However, magic still has dealings with physics, and the math of the physics all went against Twilight. That detached corner of Twilight’s mind was trying to multiply estimated mass with estimated velocity, and she never really followed through on the calculation itself before the changeling leader, brow furrowed in fierce concentration, filled her vision and a mighty impact shook her world. He slammed her into the unyielding wall, sending an impact tremor through the cavern and shaking dirt and small stones down from the ceiling. The impact and the added pain shattered Twilight’s concentration, and the power she’d collected bled away through the cracks in her will. The light surrounding her faded, the glow in her eyes replaced by Twilight’s normal violet irises, and she shuddered as she collapsed gasping onto her side.

The changeling leader stood over her, his chest heaving with exertion, his enraged eyes only visible in the faint green glow still wreathing his horn. “Ridiculous.” He spat. “I told her that keeping you alive was more trouble than it was worth.” He drew upon more power, the glow of his horn growing and revealing more of the chamber as his mane and tail began to move as if being brushed by an unfelt wind. Twilight thought again about her dear friends, and she wondered how long she’d been gone. Too long, she was sure. They might already be dead.

Twilight tried to reach for power again, tried to recapture the feeling of being connected to the invisible currents of magic around her. The pain was immediate and excruciating, and she recoiled in panic. She couldn’t do it now, not even to save her own life, let alone the lives of everyone she held most dear. With a whimper she gave up trying as her eyes filled with tears. She wasn’t sure what was worse, being trapped and beaten in some horrible hive far below ground, or the feeling that she might have somehow ruined her own ability to use magic. Her magic defined her. The study of magic had framed her entire life. She wondered what she would become if she could never draw upon it again.

The changeling’s eyes widened in shock and flicked towards the tunnel entrance just as a torrent of changelings scattered from the tunnel, some of them running on the floor or the ceiling, and others being flung through the air like rag dolls. Cinder was forced to shield himself from his own underlings, and he swatted them out of the air without blinking an eye. Those remaining changelings who hadn’t turned and bolted found themselves facing a furious Princess Celestia. A curt gesture from her horn, and the intervening creatures simply vanished, teleported elsewhere. Cinder glanced at the fallen Twilight, giving away his intent a second too early. As he moved to grab Twilight as a hostage Celestia teleported into the space between them, leveling her horn at his throat.

Princess Celestia spoke, and there was steel in her voice. “Cinder. Do not touch my student again.” She stood in between Twilight and the changeling leader, wreathed in warm yellow power. Her dazed mind noted that Celestia’s flank was marked by her own cutie mark. Six stylized stars. That couldn’t be right. It took a moment for Twilight to realize the Princess was just carrying her packs.

From around Celestia’s flank, Twilight watched as Cinder snorted in frustration and glared hatred as he locked eyes with Twilight, but after a few moments his brow smoothed, and he smiled at the Princess. When he spoke, he sounded confident once again. “Fine, your Highness. Have it your way.” He gave Celestia a mock bow without taking his eyes off her. “However, your student appears undereducated. Really, it seems as though you should be wearing this.” With that, he inclined his head, and Twilight noticed something she hadn’t before. One of Cinder’s ears had been pierced, and a small jewel hung from an earring made of some dusky metal. It was difficult to focus on, as if it slipped subtly from direct sight, but the jewel seemed to be a clear diamond fraught with flaws and laced with fractures.

Celestia made no move, save to twitch her tail in vexation. “So, you finally found the Element of Deception. It does seem to suit you, Cinder. But you must know that if you push me, I will take it from you.”

“Perhaps.” Cinder’s voice became disembodied, seeming to originate from the air around them rather than from his mouth. “Then again, perhaps not.” Darkness seemed to wrap itself around his form, obscuring him and melting him into the shadows of the cavern.

06: Deception

“Twilight,” Celestia’s voice sounded faintly worried. “Your friends will be here in a moment. You must find Dash and leave this place as fast as possiOOF. . .” A kick to the ribs sent Celestia sprawling towards the center of the cavern.

“Princess!” Twilight gasped as Celestia flinched away from another kick, one aimed for her temple. It caught her across the muzzle instead and she dropped to the floor, rolling away from her unseen attacker. She swept her horn up in a dangerous arc as she regained her feet, but she caught nothing but empty air.

Twilight heard hooves in the tunnel next to her, and the staccato stride was immediately followed by Applejack in her cowboy hat, her features lit from behind by Spike’s flashlight. Twilight glanced back towards Celesta in time to see her disappear behind her own veil. Applejack cantered over to Twilight and stood over her protectively, just as Celestia had. “Oh Twi, please tell me you’re okay.” Applejack tried to watch the entire cavern at once. Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy joined them, Spike’s flashlight sticking out of Pinkie Pie’s mouth. Just then a black shape emerged from the tunnel. Twilight blinked and rubbed at her eyes, but it didn’t change what she saw. Spike clung to the captured changeling’s back, his hands clasped around its neck and determination in his eyes. Rarity emerged last, both her horn and the thistle-colored diamond at her neck aglow with a steady blue light.

Twilight tried scanning what she could see of the cavern around her, but the fight between Celestia and Cinder had taken on another timbre altogether. Now their fight was one of stealth and detection rather than trading blows. Should one of them reveal themselves in any way, it would open them up to a nasty sucker-punch from their opponent. Twilight silently wished there was something she could do to help, but she felt so weak the very thought made her choke back a sob of exhaustion.

Rarity’s eyes were both clear and determined as she strode purposely into the group of companions. “Twilight, thank goodness. Can you walk?”

“Um,” She rasped. “I think so.” Twilight lurched to her feet, but all of her muscles shook and she nearly fell over. Fluttershy caught Twilight on her shoulder and helped support her weight.

“Oh my, this won’t do.” Rarity glanced around. “Pinkie, be a dear and pass the flashlight to Fluttershy and take Applejack’s bags? Applejack, can you carry Twilight for awhile?”

“Course I can.” Applejack eased herself underneath Twilight and lifted her off of her feet. “There you go sugar, now you just try an’ hold on and I’ll try an’ not jostle too much.”

Rarity turned and glared pointedly at the changeling. The creature gulped, and then turned and began following the wall, taking Spike with it. Everyone else followed. They walked in silence for a minute, before Twilight tapped Applejack on the shoulder. When their eyes met, Twilight shrugged and gestured ahead. Applejack nodded in comprehension and began explaining in a soft voice. “Oh, well Spike here is a little trooper. He leapt atop this here changeling’s back and threatened to burn the horn clean off its head if’n it didn’t give us a hoof finding Dash. Seemed to make our new friend all sorts of helpful.” Applejack grinned softly. “Once we figured something terrible had happened to you, Spike became a whole ‘nuther dragon. You’d have been mighty proud.”

“But, how did you all escape?” Twilight rasped.

Applejack’s smile melted away. “I ain’t rightly sure, Twi. All I know is that Rarity figured something out. You’ll have to ask her how she made that stone move.” Twilight glanced up towards Rarity walking just behind the changeling and considered her friend. Rarity walked with a calm assurance and confidence that Twilight couldn’t remember seeing before. She directed the group as though she expected to be followed, and she faced the unknown ahead as though she expected to be a match for it. It was a new side to Rarity, and Twilight felt a surge of pride for this fussy and fashionable unicorn who seemed to have found a core of strength within herself when it was most needed.

But that pride was tempered by a sharp sense of loss tinged with jealousy. Somewhere deep in her heart, Twilight had hoped that she could be the one to lead her friends through the darkness to safety. Of course, the jealousy was immediately followed by anger at her own selfishness. As the companions entered another twisty tunnel, Twilight found herself trying to pick through the tangle of emotions that her relative helplessness conjured out of the gloom.

The changeling led them through two branching tunnels into a modest room with seven exits, all of them almost identical to Twilight. Without slowing, the changeling led them to one of the tunnels and entered, this one angled downward. Another branching path later, and the companions soon entered a room the size of an average house, with a ceiling five or six pony-lengths high. The changeling stopped at the tunnel entrance and rarity walked around it, joined by Applejack carrying Twilight. Immediately to their right, Rainbow Dash shook her mane and looked up. “Oh, am I glad to see you guys! Help me get out of this stuff.” She nodded her head towards her legs, which were encased within a thick shell of green resin up to her thighs.

“Dash.” Applejack managed to express both recognition and relief with one word. “Now how did you go and get yourself all trussed up like this?”

Everyone else surged into the room as Rarity’s horn began to glow brighter. Rarity lowered her head to touch her horn to the resin when Fluttershy squeaked very softly, “Wait!” Rarity stopped and looked up. Fluttershy was scanning the room, her eyes wide with horror, and everyone else began looking around as well. Twilight closed her eyes to try to block out the sight, but it’s just about impossible to unsee something. There were several prisoners being held in this room, easily thirty, probably more. All of them were Rainbow Dash. Of course they are. Twilight thought. If I wanted to slow down a rescue mission, this is exactly what I’d set up. Why did I assume this would be easy? Every Rainbow Dash in the room began asking for help, demanding rescue, or trying to prove their validity at the same time. It was madness.

Rarity looked overwhelmed as she scanned the room. “Well. This is simply outrageous.” She declared to no one in particular. She turned to the changeling they had brought with them. “I thought we had been quite clear. No funny business. Spike, if you would please. . .”

Spike, still astride the changeling’s back, took a deep breath. “No!” The changeling flung itself to the ground. “Your friend is here! I swear it! I have done everything you asked!”

Spike held his breath, his mouth still agape, but he shifted a quizzical gaze to Rarity. Rarity in turn glared at the changeling. “Then reveal your companions to us. Where is our friend?”

The changeling glanced around the room, a look of genuine anxiety and fear on its face. “I. . . I cannot tell. Unless they choose to reveal themselves, I see only what you see.”

“Unacceptable.” Rarity sniffed. “Spike?”

Twilight rasped, “No!” Just as Applejack murmured, “Now hold on to your horseshoes. I think he’s telling the truth.” It was hard to hear her over the Rainbow Dash din, but Twilight heard something in her friend’s voice. Some hint of wonder or surprise.

Twilight slid down off of Applejack’s back and stood on her own. When she was sure her legs would support her, she looked Applejack in the eyes. “Why do you say that?” She rattled.

Applejack’s eyes seemed unfocused. “I don’t rightly know. He just sounds truthful to me, that’s all.” Twilight grimaced. If it were anyone but Applejack, she wouldn’t have given them any credit. Applejack refocused on Twilight and shrugged. “Guess I wouldn’t rightly know, would I?” She laughed sheepishly.

Pinkie Pie walked into Twilight’s field of view. “Hey, can’t you just use your magic and make the changelings all ugly again?”

Twilight carefully shook her head so as not to aggravate her bruised throat or her pounding headache. Pinkie Pie seemed to understand that option was out. Pinkie glanced at Rarity, who shook her head as well. “I’m sorry my dear, I haven’t gotten around to learning that spell.” Her voice rang clearly through the room.

Twilight cringed. Now every changeling within earshot knew they couldn’t just reveal them. Worse, so did the changeling still cowering on the floor. Pinkie Pie turned back to Twilight. “Oh. Drat. Twilight, can you teach her that spell right now?”

Twilight shook her head again, and Rarity added, “There isn’t time. We need another idea. Any suggestions?” Everyone seemed to consider that carefully, but while everyone else tried to think of a way to identify the real Rainbow Dash, Twilight eyed their captive worriedly. The changeling also seemed lost in thought. Twilight’s slip earlier, when she tried to stop Spike from using his dragonfire, was a fatal mistake. Twilight just hoped to the stars above the changeling wasn’t smart enough to put the pieces together. Twilight studied its eyes, and noticed the exact moment comprehension dawned across its features. Twilight threw herself forward saying “Spike don’t!” as the changeling dropped to the ground and rolled, trying to force Spike into belching flame. Spike had the breath squeezed harmlessly out of him as the changeling rolled over him, but his eyes became steely as he sucked in another breath to use on the creature. He seemed doubly surprised when Twilight’s arm wrapped around his neck as she tried to pull him off of the struggling creature.

Spike slid off of the changeling’s back and onto the floor, not so much due to Twilight’s strength as to the fact that she’d startled him. Pinkie Pie reacted first, pouncing towards the freed changeling, but her packs slowed her down. The changeling dodged and kicked her in the face, and then it turned and fled back up the tunnel before Rarity’s magic could trap it again.

Applejack ran to the edge of the light and stopped, snarling in frustration. “What in all of tarnation was that, Twi’?” Applejack sounded genuinely angry as she turned and stalked back to the group. She paced right up into Twilight’s personal space and glared threateningly. “Do you realize that creature was our only means to findin’ our way outta’ this snake pit? And that he’s probably bringing reinforcements as we speak?”

Twilight felt a stab of anger. She didn’t want to have to explain herself. They were running out of time, and they were no closer to rescuing Rainbow Dash then they were when they walked into this room. “If you can’t figure it out,” Twilight rasped, “At least get out of the way.”

“Oh yeah?” Applejack shot back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means!” Twilight nearly shouted. Twilight wished she had her magic again so she could shove Applejack out of her way. Or at least her voice! She couldn’t even shout properly. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so ineffectual.

Then there was a gasp from ground level, and everyone turned to look at Spike. In dawning comprehension, he said, “Of course. The Princess.” Twilight nodded in satisfaction.

Fluttershy stepped forward. “Anything Spike disintegrates will find Celestia, and maybe give her away, or distract her at a vital moment. We almost put her in serious danger!”

“Wow.” Pinkie Pie breathed. “That was a close call.” She stepped in between Twilight and Applejack and pushed them apart. “So can we please stop fighting here? We need to get out of this place!” Pinkie Pie winced and rubbed at her temple.

“Ok,” Applejack seemed a little chagrined. “I guess we hadn’t thought of that.” She turned toward the room full of Rainbow Dashes, most of who were still talking, squared her hat on her head and addressed them all at once. “All right now settle down you slimy, deceitful sacks of crazy. Which of you parasprites are fakes?” As one, every pony in the room stopped talking and waited in a hush. “Good.” Applejack nodded in satisfaction. “Now that I’ve got your attention, answer this. What is Winona?”

Several Rainbow Dash copies chorused, “A pet.” “Your pet.” and “Your dog.” with only three or four answers of “A friend.” Applejack tried to clarify, “No, I mean what kind of dog is she?” Uneasy silence followed as several dashes glanced at one another. Some of them shrugged. Applejack looked stunned. “Really, Rainbow Dash? You honestly have no idea what kind of dog I have?” A few muttered apologies drifted through the room. Applejack threw her hooves up in disgust and turned away.

Rarity took her place. “Ok then, would the real Dash please tell me what it is I do for a living?” Almost all of them replied “Seamstress.” or “Design clothing.” Rarity’s eyes went very wide. “Well. These imposters have certainly done their homework.”

Twilight stepped up next to Rarity and said quietly, “Not well enough. Dash would never use the word ‘seamstress,’ and only a few of them said ‘design clothing’ as if it were boring.” Twilight peered critically at a few of the prisoners around her. “I have an idea.” Pitching her voice louder, she said, “’Take this. Wave it at anything that slithers.’”

Without an ounce of hesitation, one Rainbow Dash near the back of the room shouted with a giant grin, “’Dear Celestia! This whole place is slithering!’”

Twilight smiled, feeling a surge of relief and joy as she nodded her head towards the Rainbow Dash who understood her Daring Do reference. “That’s her.” She said.

A moment later, the room flashed green as every changeling ditched their disguise at once and surged towards the companions. Clearly, none of them had really been trapped. Applejack kicked a pair of changelings away before being tackled by a third. Pinkie Pie swung her bags around, forcing another couple of changelings to keep their distance from her and Fluttershy. Rarity handled the brunt of the assault, using her light-blue magic to sweep changelings aside and fling them backwards into the walls, but there were just too many of them. Spike rolled away from a changeling that slipped past Pinkie Pie, and wide-eyed with panic, he tried to run away. There just wasn’t anyplace left in the chamber to run to.

Three changelings piled atop Pinkie Pie at the same time, one of them snatching her packs away and flinging them into a corner. Fluttershy gasped in shock, steeled her courage and leapt atop the nearest changeling’s back, forcing it to turn its attention onto her. Applejack twisted around in her changeling’s grasp and banged its head into the floor before rolling free. Another changeling lunged forward, managing to grab her by the mane. Applejack spun to bite her attacker’s arm as she kicked at another changeling, and even though the second changeling cringed away, she caught it in the shoulder and sent it spinning hoof over horn. The one she bit snarled, but didn’t let go. It managed to rear up and slam Applejack back to the floor, holding on grimly. It bit her back in retaliation, and she cried out in surprise and pain. Meanwhile, Twilight reached out for Spike as another creature snagged him from behind and lifted him into the air by his pack.

“Twilight!” He shouted in fear.

“Spike!” Twilight cried out. “The Element!”

Two things happened at once. A terribly loud scuttling/rustling noise swelled from the mouth of the tunnel just before the only entrance to the chamber erupted with a flood of changelings; a swarm of snarling fangs and black, oily bodies. They were mere pony-lengths away from Applejack, Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy. At the same time, Spike shrugged out of his pack and as he fell he reached behind himself and clawed the canvas open, spilling the contents out in a jumble right next to him. As the changeling wasted a moment tossing the empty pack aside, Spike snatched up the Element of Loyalty as it fell and he threw it at Twilight.

But as Twilight reached up to grab it, a heavy weight hit her high in the back and she collapsed to the ground, the breath driven from her lungs. Twilight watched in dismay as the Element arced through the air right towards the changeling standing on her back, the deep red jewel reflecting light around the cavern as it spun. Twilight imagined herself catching it with a simple levitation spell, and to her surprise the choker-style necklace halted in mid-flight, just out of the changeling’s reach.

As the horde of changelings poured over Applejack and swarmed around Pinkie Pie, Twilight noticed with a small pang of disappointment that she hadn’t used her magic after all. Rarity had turned from her efforts against the mass of changelings before her in time to target Rainbow Dash’s Element with a spell. Without hesitation, the changeling atop Twilight leapt into the air, grabbing the Element in its hooves. Twilight gasped in a breath, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of the Element of Loyalty. They absolutely had to trigger the Elements and unleash the flood of power these artifacts could channel. It was the only hope left to them. Twilight lifted herself up, grabbed the changeling’s rear hooves and pulled with all of her fading strength. The changeling’s eyes widened with surprise as Rarity yanked the Element out of its grasp and flung the necklace across the room towards the imprisoned Rainbow Dash.

Twilight didn’t get to see what happened next. Her entire world became a writhing sea of hooves and fangs and buzzing, angry wings. The sour-grain smell was overwhelming. Twilight twisted, kicked and struggled, and it didn’t make a difference. Fangs sank into her leg. Hooves kicked at her flank. She felt herself lifted into the air. Her mind detached, separated itself from the horror and the pain and the helplessness, and it focused on one coherent thought. She had to keep the changelings from separating her from the Element of Magic. Changelings grappled for it and pried at it, but the smallest of twitches somehow dislodged them. It seemed Celestia was right. There was no easy way for these creatures to divest her of her power. Unless they decided to knock her unconscious, of course. Of if she fainted. She decided that fainting probably wasn’t a good option. Twilight wondered briefly what would happen then, if the strange connection between herself and her Element would fade. For that matter, she wondered just what connection they shared, and if it was similar to the connection she shared with her friends. It was certainly difficult for anything to come between her and her friends. Apparently, it takes a room full of changelings to come between us. Twilight thought with a small touch of hysteria.

There are precious few moments in our lives which can truly be called magical. Most of these moments occur when we are quite young, and usually involve some sort of new concept or idea that our mind finally wraps around, comprehends fully, and fills us with a sense of wonder so acute it becomes joy. These personal revelations are almost impossible to share with those around you, are deeply transformative, and the sensation rarely lasts. Yet these moments come to define who we are. They can change us, remind us what is important in our lives. In fact, I suspect most of our existence is a daily quest to recreate and relive these moments, even if we only ever manage to feel a shadow, a ghost of what we were once lucky enough to discover.

Twilight felt the exact moment when all six of the Elements of Harmony aligned. It felt as though a door had opened somewhere within her mind, and all of her anxiety, fear, and pain washed away in a flood of genuine wonder. Her heart rate and breathing slowed down without transition. Even her fractured and desperate analysis stopped as her mind and her heart filled with light. Even though she had felt this sensation twice before, it still felt fresh and new, undulled by the repetition.

Once again, Twilight could sense the life and the energy around her, the gentle yet massive currents of magic that twined their way through the world around them. And she could sense her friends. She felt Applejack’s quiet wonder and Rarity’s surge of triumph. She felt Pinkie Pie’s giddy elation and Fluttershy’s deep, calm acceptance. And she sensed Rainbow Dash’s curiosity as though she had wondered aloud, What next? It was a valid question the friends shared amongst each other.

They pooled their thoughts, considering the possibility of turning the changelings to stone, rolling them all into a ball or blasting them all into pieces. Applejack suggested that last one, due mostly to how many were biting her at the moment. Twilight’s first, visceral reaction was to agree. She very nearly began to channel the forces needed before she remembered her dream. Her sudden nausea was acute enough to cut through the euphoria she’d been feeling. Within a fraction of a second her friends shared in the memory of her desire for violence, and they recoiled with her.

Fluttershy asked if they could try a sleep spell, and that went over well. Twilight agreed, relieved. As Twilight tapped into the power swirling around them, she helped show her friends how to channel only a small fraction of the power available to them. She shared with them which part of the spectrum to use in a sleep spell, and she guided them in releasing that power through the room. As she did, she wondered why her head didn’t hurt anymore. Maybe there was a difference between power taken and power freely given. Or maybe she just couldn’t feel it at the moment, and it would come back later. She filed it away with everything else she meant to ask the Princess once they were out of this mess.

All of this happened within a second or so. The changelings were still falling away from the power radiating from Twilight’s arched form, some of them conjuring up shields. And as the magic scaled into the visible spectrum, shedding every color of the rainbow until the changelings were forced to cover their eyes, the deep blues and violets condensed and released in a gentle pulse, washing over every nearby creature and bombarding them with images of rest and sensations of deep sleep. Changelings felt their limbs grow heavy. They blinked, and their eyelids had trouble opening. Changelings in the air dropped to the floor, most of them deeply asleep already, their eyes twitching beneath their lids.

When the last of them hit the dirt, the six friends tried to shut away the rest of their power. It was surprisingly difficult to do. So long as they all let the power flow through them it felt as easy as being a riverbank. Redirecting the river was work, sure, but that was nothing compared to stopping the river entirely. Twilight struggled mightily to close the door in her mind, and her headache came back with a vengeance. At the same time, she could feel her five friends trying to do the same thing. None of them could do it; none of them could break the connection on their own.

Twilight was the only one of the companions who had spent her entire life in the study of magic, sharpening her focus and strengthening her will power. She had to try harder. With a cry, she shoved with all of the grim determination she could dredge up, and she felt something start to give way. When the connection broke, it caught her by surprise and she dropped a few pony-lengths and landed atop a sleeping changeling. She was followed a moment later by her friends, all of them falling and landing in a rough circle around each other.

To Twilight’s left, Rainbow Dash lay collapsed atop a changeling’s sleeping head. She wasn’t gasping for breath, but she seemed pretty winded as she lifted her head to look around the room. Fluttershy squeaked and leapt to her feet, trying hard not to step on any of the changelings scattered about. A hatless Applejack put a hoof over her mouth in a futile attempt to stifle laughter. “Snkkkkt—Heheheheheh.” Rainbow Dash burst into big belly laughs, kneeing the changeling underneath her as she did so. Rarity’s giggle joined Pinkie Pie’s as everyone laughed in sheer relief. Twilight flung herself forward and put her arms around Rainbow Dash as everyone else joined her. As Twilight buried her face in her friend’s mane, something poked her in the eye. She leaned back and gently rubbed a hoof against the corner of her eye and pulled away a pine needle.

Twilight smiled, and then her eyes widened in shock. “Spike?” She grated.

Pinkie Pie’s head shot up with a gasp. “SPIKE!!!”

“Gah!” Rainbow Dash cringed. “That was right in my ear!”

They noticed a little movement from across the room, near the tunnel entrance, and they could make out muffled sounds. “Now, how in tarnation did we end up all the way over here?” Applejack muttered as she wended her way through the sleeping bodies. Twilight followed, even though her every muscle seemed to shake and her head felt worse than ever. The simple elation at having survived kept her on her hooves.

“I don’t know.” Rainbow Dash flew overhead, swooping down to land where Spike lay underneath a pair of changeling bodies. “Ask Twilight, she knows about this magic stuff.”

Pinkie Pie crossed the room by literally bouncing from one sleeping changeling to another. “Wow! That worked soooooo much better than I thought it would! How long do you think they’ll sleep for?”

Twilight shook her head. “I have no idea.” Pinkie Pie stopped bouncing to listen. The magic of the Elements of Harmony had done nothing for her voice. “But we should probably leave now. And we probably shouldn’t bounce all over them, Pinkie.”

“Oh, why not?” Pinkie Pie complained, “How often does anypony get to bounce around on sleeping changelings, huh? This is undoubtedly a once-in-a-lifetime chance! Don’t be such a Buzzkill Frettypants.”

Twilight opened her mouth, but she couldn’t think of any sane reply. So she just closed her mouth again and focused on making her way over to Spike. Rainbow Dash had already pulled Spike out from under the collapsed creatures, and he was dusting himself off. It seemed that everyone got to Spike first and gave him hugs, complements or reassuring pats on the back. Rarity in particular made a bit of a fuss over him, while Applejack turned away and found her hat beneath a pair of changelings. She dusted it off and tipped it back onto her head before looking for some gauze in the scattered pile of Spike’s gear. Twilight just smiled proudly at him, waiting for a chance to get closer. Before she got that chance, a thought occurred to her. “Hey, why isn’t Spike asleep?” She asked. “Shouldn’t he be as zonked as the rest of these critters? Maybe dragons are resistant to that kind of magic.”

Fluttershy shook her head. “Oh no, I made especially sure to keep him from being touched by our spell.” Twilight just stared tiredly at her in numb confusion. Fluttershy continued nervously. “I mean, it wouldn’t do to have Spike be asleep and defenseless down here, would it?”

Rarity glared disapprovingly at Twilight, and then moved to console Fluttershy. “Of course not, dear. That was very considerate of you.”

“But,” Twilight stammered a bit. “But, but how did you do it?”

Fluttershy seemed to take Twilight’s incomprehension as an indication that she had somehow done something wrong. “I don’t know. . . I just sort of bent the, um, the magic away from him. Sort of. I guess.” Her voice grew softer and softer. “Why? Was that bad?” By that time the yellow pegasus was hiding behind her soft pink mane.

Twilight shook her head. “Doing something like that. . . it should have taken years of intense study to be able to redirect energy in motion. It’s incredibly difficult!”

Applejack also seemed to take Fluttershy’s side. “Naw, it wasn’t bad at all, sugarcube. It just seems somepony’s having trouble saying a simple ‘thank’s’.” She stopped bandaging her multiple bite wounds to glare at Twilight too.

Finally, Twilight’s tired brain seemed to catch up with Fluttershy’s emotional state, and she tried to correct herself. “No, I’m sorry Fluttershy. That was amazing. I’m trying to complement you, and it came out wrong. I’m just exhausted. Let’s grab our stuff and get out of here.” Everyone nodded. Pinkie Pie bounced away to find her bags while Applejack and Rarity tried to find some of Spike’s scattered gear to shove into their own packs.

Twilight walked over to Spike. She was so relieved to see him unharmed, she almost didn’t see how sullen he looked. In fact, he looked downright angry. She tried to give him a hug, but he pushed her away. “Let me guess.” He pitched his voice low. “You would have just knocked me out like you did to all these monsters, huh? Let me sleep like a baby through the rest of the trip, is that it? Or were you not even thinking about me?”

Twilight felt cut to the bone. “Spike, I didn’t. . .” But her voice trailed off, wondering if his accusations were somewhat true.

“Don’t worry about it.” Spike’s voice was an empty desert. “You didn’t want me along anyway.” He turned and walked away, leaving Twilight speechless. She loved him. There was no doubt about that. Spike was family to her. All she wanted to do was protect him, couldn’t he see that? But he was right about something. In the ordered chaos the Elements of Harmony generated, for that brief moment when they were struggling to end the conflict with the changelings, she had forgotten about Spike. She had forgotten him entirely. She stared at the floor stunned, unable to move or speak while her friends gathered their things, Spike found his flashlight, and they all looked ready to go.

Someone said something, but Twilight couldn’t tell what it was because the room was spinning too fast. Her vision narrowed to a small, blurry dot, and then it winked out.

When she came to, she was draped across Applejack’s back again, and they were cruising through changeling tunnels. Twilight blinked her eyes a couple of times, and she even tried rubbing them, but she couldn’t quite get them to focus. She could see that Pinkie Pie led them, coming to a fork and choosing a path without hesitation. A long stretch of tunnel later and they emerged back into the chamber where they had left Princess Celestia. Spike said from somewhere behind Twilight, “Way to go, Pinkie Pie!”

“I don’t know how in Equestria you managed, but that was some fine pathfinding, Ms. Pie.” Applejack tipped her hat.

“Oh, it was easy.” Pinkie Pie shrugged. “It was the same way we went, just backwards! I’m sure you could have done it if you led the way.”

Applejack smiled, “I ain’t too sure of that. All these creepy tunnels look exactly the same to me.”

Far away, small flashes of light could be seen, obscured by the occasional shadow of a scattered changeling. It was a very eerie effect, to visually see the scale of the entire cavern. The sense of vertigo was only compounded by the strange echoes that reached their ears; dull retorts, impacts, and chittering not at all in time with the flashes of light. The group immediately stretched into a canter with Rainbow Dash easily taking the lead. Changelings by ones and twos stood in their way or charged them from afar. Rainbow Dash plowed through some of them with kicks or head-butts, clearly venting her frustration at having been imprisoned. Rarity handled the rest, tumbling them away with her magic accompanied by snippets of “Oop! Excuse me!” or “Pardon us, please.” It took longer than it seemed like it should, but eventually they drew close enough to make out the two combatants.

Princess Celestia looked awful and ragged. Her mane and her tail were frayed, tangled and burned in places. She was covered in dirt and scuffed up as well. She also had blood caked across one shoulder. Cinder honestly looked little better, but both of them clearly had some fight left in them. Having obviously thrown caution and stealth to the winds, the two of them traded blows with abandon, interspersing swipes of their dangerous hooves with slashes of their horns and bursts of luminous magic.

Princess Celestia noticed them coming first, but she didn’t even glance their way, which just goes to show how well thousands of years of experience can help out in a jam. She didn’t want her opponent to have any warning at all. She rolled to Cinder’s far side, turning his attention away just as Rainbow Dash flexed her wings and shot forward at an incredible speed. At the last moment, Dash spun in midair, launching a kick at the changeling leader’s flank. She connected with his knee. Despite Rainbow Dash having less than one-third of the changeling-leader’s mass, her speed lent force to her blow. And he never saw it coming. He hit the ground, and Celestia pounced on top of him, leveling her horn to his throat.

“This fight is over, Cinder.” Celestia said, breathing heavily. “We have the Elements of Harmony. Now, your hive will let us leave.”

Cinder’s smug confidence was gone, replaced by what seemed to be a righteous anger. “And what will you do, Princess? Find another place to hide your power?” He spat.

Rainbow Dash leaned down and snarled in Cinder’s face. Surprisingly, she looked rather scary. Celestia responded. “We are going, and I urge you not to stop us.” Twilight glanced up at Celestia in confusion. We are going, as in leaving this hive? Or does she mean something else? Twilight wondered. She slid down from Applejack’s back and found she could stand again.

Cinder studied Celestia for a long minute before conceding with the smallest of nods. He said in a low voice, “You will not survive. There’s much you still don’t comprehend. . .”

“I comprehend enough.” Celestia didn’t shout, but there was steel enough in her voice to interrupt him. “And so long as my subjects remain unharmed, I will do what is necessary.” With each word, she moved her horn a little closer until it pushed into the base of the changeling leader’s throat and his eyes widened with shock.

Cinder blinked slowly and said, “Your Highness.” It sounded like a respectful dismissal. Twilight was confused. What in Equestria is going on here? Twilight felt sure she could make sense of this whole situation if only her brain didn’t feel so much like a slug stuck in molasses. Without moving an inch, Celestia used her magic to gently pull the earring out of his ear, eliciting a snarl of hate from Cinder indistinguishable from pain. But he said nothing. Celestia didn’t move her head away until the small diamond was safely out of his reach, then she backed away slowly. With a glance, she lifted the flap on one of Pinkie Pie’s packs and set the earring inside, tucking it away.

Cinder stood slowly, favoring one hindleg. He glanced around briefly before tilting his head toward Celestia. “Your kingdom is worth less than you believe.”

“We shall see.” Turning to address her companions, Celestia said, “We’re leaving. Let’s go.” She turned her back and walked away as though she had nothing left to fear, and apparently expecting everyone else to follow her. Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Rarity and Spike turned their backs on the changeling leader without hesitation and walked with Celestia, trusting her completely. Rainbow Dash glared threateningly at Cinder before turning to join the others. Twilight and Applejack turned away last, keeping an eye on the red-maned changeling until the darkness swallowed him up. The two friends glanced nervously at each other before picking up the pace and catching up with the others.

Twilight moved in close to Celestia and asked, “Princess, why would they. . .”

“Hush.” Celestia cut her off abruptly. “Not here.” Celestia glanced around smoothly and quickly, watching every angle of approach without looking outwardly nervous. Twilight nodded and dropped back a bit, letting everyone else take the lead. Eventually, Celestia’s steady trot took them to a tunnel that angled upward, which in turn led them to another small chamber. It was the oddly shaped one they had passed through on the way in. What few changelings they ran across hissed at them, but backed away, offering no challenge. And Celestia paid no attention to them.

They made their way up through the entrance without incident, emerging into a brisk, deep night. It seemed strange to Twilight. While they were underground it was so easy to lose track of time; but once she could see the sky again it felt like all of that lost time caught up to her at once, making her feel extremely tired. They had spent easily half of the night down there. Spike yawned hugely.

Celestia considered each of them in turn. “I know you must all be weary, but I urge you to come with me. It isn’t safe here.” Celestia took Fluttershy’s packs and draped them across her own back alongside Twilight’s, followed by a sleepy Spike. Applejack offered to take Pinkie Pie’s packs, but she declined, nodding towards Applejack’s bandages.

Twilight forced herself to look away from the black hive entrance looming behind them to walk up next to the Princess. Twilight said, “They let us go far too easily.” It came out as something of an accusation.

Celestia nodded, radiating understanding and sympathy. She gently placed a reassuring hoof on Twilight’s shoulder and said, “Of course I don’t mind being certain.” Celestia lowered herself to the ground, becoming as non-threatening as possible. “When you are ready, my student.” From Celestia’s back, Spike blinked his eyes and shook his head, trying to look more alert while Twilight verified the Princess’s identity.

Twilight reached for her magic and immediately cringed away. It still hurt so much she could barely focus. She must have done a terrible job hiding it, because Celestia’s eyes widened in sympathy and Fluttershy gasped as if she’d felt the same pain. The glow from Celestia’s horn brightened, and the pain in Twilight’s head receded somewhat. Twilight nodded her thanks, and summoned the spell that would peel back a glamour or any other type of veil. It still hurt, but it was no longer the burning agony that destroyed her concentration. As it came to her, she felt a surge of relief that she hadn’t permanently lost her ability to use magic. She gently touched her glowing horn to Celestia, who remained unchanged. With a sigh of relief, she let go of the spell. “Thank you, Princess.”

Celestia only smiled and rose to her feet. “Now, we must leave. Please everypony, follow me. I will lead us all somewhere we can rest.”

07: The Lifeless Wood

Within moments, everyone was trekking doggedly across the clearing and into the woods, trying to put as much distance between themselves and their nightmarish ordeal as possible. Celestia seemed to know where she was heading, and no one had the inclination or the energy to question her. However, after only a few minutes had passed, Fluttershy stopped in her tracks and muttered to herself, “That’s not right.” She was staring at a squirrel who was staring right back at her from atop a stump.

“Move it, Fluttershy.” Rainbow Dash probably sounded more exasperated than she meant to. “We can’t stop to make friends with every living thing between here and the coast. Sheesh.”

Fluttershy shook her head and kept moving. But she stopped again before another minute had passed, this time for a small brown bird perched on a low branch. “No, this isn’t right. Something’s definitely wrong with this bird.” This time the companions gathered around. The bird perched just within reach of Celestia’s horn, but it didn’t flit or stir as the ponies gathered around to stare at it.

Pinkie Pie cocked her head to one side, then the other. “It looks fine to me.”

“Yeah,” Applejack added with a yawn. “What’s got yer feathers all ruffled, ‘Shy?”

“I don’t know.” Fluttershy sounded deeply upset. “It just looks really sad.”

Rainbow Dash glanced sideways at Fluttershy and dramatically rolled her eyes. “The bird looks sad? Did the bird get captured by changelings and dragged into some smelly hole in the ground? Ugh, that’s it! I give up.” She huffed and turned to the Princess, motioning her to lead on.

But Celestia stared at the bird too, with a concerned expression on her face. “Fluttershy, we must leave.” Celestia stroked Fluttershy’s mane so that Fluttershy turned, her sea-blue eyes reflecting back the light. She looked like she was on the verge of tears, but she couldn’t say why. Celestia continued, “They will be fine, all of them, but we must keep moving. There’s nothing we can do for them.” Fluttershy did not look reassured. “I promise you, there’s nothing we can do.” Celestia’s voice grew more determined as she addressed the entire group. “We must not stop again until we find shelter. It isn’t safe out here. Follow me. And stay together, no matter what you see.”

They walked for a few more hours, and the trek became more and more eerie the further they went. They passed more wild creatures than Twilight had ever seen in one place before, and not one of them reacted to the presence of seven ponies and a snoring baby dragon traipsing through their woods. An entire herd of deer all stood or lay down without moving, or watched them go by without the slightest hint of concern. A trio of wolves lay out in the open, making no move to even watch them walk by. They just looked bored. Bored to death, perhaps. Everyone seemed to find it creepy, except for Fluttershy, who merely looked heartbroken. Applejack dropped back next to Fluttershy and said, “I’m just a mite unsettled. What’s going on out here? It’s like we’re all invisible or somethin’.”

Fluttershy didn’t focus her eyes on anything. She bit her lip. “I’m. . . I’m not sure. It’s like they’re all empty inside. It’s horrible.” Applejack looked like she might try to say something reassuring, but she couldn’t think of anything to say.

Twilight might have been more concerned, but she was having trouble enough just placing one hoof in front of the other without tripping on roots or branches. Her every muscle ached and shook with strain. She wasn’t even sure how she’d made it as far as she did, but she refused to give up. Twilight was already embarrassed by how she’d fainted back in the hive, and how she’d needed to be carried more than once. She refused to go through that again. Worse than that, her mind kept going back over the evening, reliving all of her mistakes. She was the one who sent the parchment that revealed the Princess to the changelings, she was sure of it. And beyond that she’d made an even worse decision. She’d sent Rainbow Dash ahead because she’d felt responsible for the Princess’s dilemma, and it had nearly cost Dash her life. If that didn’t make Twilight a horrible friend, at the very least it made her a dangerous leader. Twilight felt enough shame that the sting of it kept her on her hooves through the night.

Eventually, the flank in front of her stopped, and Twilight walked right into Rarity’s tail. Celestia had descended a small trail around the base of a hillock, and the entrance to a cave was visible beneath an overhang of solid rock. She could hear a stream not far from them, murmuring to itself somewhere just beyond the trees. Celestia ignored the cave and walked towards the sound of water, encouraging everyone to accompany her. The stream didn’t look very deep, and it was less than a stone’s throw across.

Celestia gently woke Spike up, and set him by the bank. Twilight hadn’t realized how thirsty she’d become, and she ducked her parched lips to the stream and drank deeply. The water was cold and pure, and in that moment it was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted. Rarity gently held her mane back with a hoof while she drank, but Applejack just waded out and plunged her head under the water completely. Rainbow Dash stopped drinking to chuckle a little. Once everyone drank their fill, Celestia urged them all back towards the cave they’d passed, as she topped off a couple of canteens.

The eight companions filtered into the cave, finding room enough for everyone to stretch out and then some. The cave was large without being enormous, and a brief check ensured there weren’t any surprises, like a family of bats or a second entryway through which they could be found. Applejack removed the packs she’d taken from Pinkie Pie awhile back, set them down gently and immediately flopped onto her side, panting heavily. She should have been uncomfortable on the uneven stone, but her posture gave no indication that she was going to move anytime soon. Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy were in little better state. Pinkie Pie practically crawled into the cave and collapsed, and Fluttershy made a visible effort to open her pack and pull out a pair of bedrolls she’d thought to bring.

Celestia settled Spike onto a blanket pulled from her own pack, and immediately moved to check Applejack’s wounds, despite the straw-maned earth pony’s protestations. Twilight found a relatively even patch and fell upon it, heaving large and unsteady breaths.

Celestia made sure everyone was as settled as they could be before withdrawing the last of the bandages and a canteen of water, and setting herself to cleaning out the worst of Applejack’s bites. A couple of them had been fairly deep, and the one on her left leg had started bleeding again while they’d hiked. Celestia spoke softly, “Sleep now, my friends. I will stand watch. We are as safe as we may be.” Twilight still had unanswered questions, but they weren’t enough to keep her awake after the night they’d had. As the sky in the east began to lighten with the first hints of sunrise, Twilight fell hard into a deep, deep sleep.

Twilight awoke all at once, stifling a scream with a hoof, her eyes darting around the cave in a panic. It took a minute for the dream to fade and a minute more for her heart to stop hammering. Twilight looked frantically around the cave until her gaze settled on Rainbow Dash asleep on a thin bedroll. The pegasus pony was stretched out on her stomach with her chin straight out and her hooves stuck out in every direction. Her unkempt mane partially hid her face. Awake, Dash always looked bold and tough, ready to take on the entire world. But asleep, she just looked strangely vulnerable.

Twilight didn’t know what she would do if she lost any of her friends on this journey, but she knew she wouldn’t handle it well. Especially if she were to blame for it. Twilight felt another sharp stab of guilt for risking Rainbow Dash’s life the way she had, and before she’d made a conscious decision, she was on her hooves, picking her way through the early morning light streaming through the cave entrance until she reached Rainbow Dash’s side. Then she carefully squeezed herself onto the bedroll next to her friend, gently put a foreleg around her and closed her eyes. Twilight sighed, and eventually she fell into more peaceful dreams.

Hours later, Twilight floated up through thick, groggy layers of sleep. She blinked her eyes clear and looked blearily around. She was still stretched out by Rainbow Dash, but Rarity had curled up on Dash’s far side, and Fluttershy stirred next to Twilight. Every single one of them had moved during the night, including Spike, in order to cluster around Rainbow Dash. They had formed an enormous pony pile. Twilight stretched and rose, marveling at how much better she felt after a few hours of good sleep.

Spike had woken up moments before Twilight, and had beaten her to her packs. He rummaged around and pulled out a clawful of oat bars, the very same ones he nearly ate before boarding the train. Twilight glanced at the angle of the sun shining outside the cave and guessed it to be about midday. Has it really only been a day and a half since we left Ponyville? Twilight mused. It feels like a week has passed. Spike tore into an oat bar like a wild animal, but as ponies stretched and blinked awake, Spike tossed them all something to eat.

“Thanks Spike! I’m crazy hungry.” Rainbow Dash barely stopped to tear the packaging before demolishing the compressed rectangle in three bites.

“Woah there, nelly.” Applejack took a step back. “The food ain’t goin’ nowhere, Rainbow.” Applejack yawned, pulled her mane back into a ponytail and slid her cowboy hat back onto her head before tipping that hat to Spike in a gesture of gratitude. “Thanks for the breakfast, shortstuff.”

“You’re a great pal, Spike!” Pinkie Pie added with her mouth full.

Fluttershy just chewed pensively, saying nothing. At the last, Spike tossed an oat bar at Twilight’s feet, offering her a sad smile. He looked so small. He looked so defenseless and innocent. But when push came to shove in the middle of a dark and dangerous changeling hive, he’d kept his head. In fact, Twilight was certain that none of them would have made it out if it weren’t for his help. And she would tell him as much, and apologize to him for hurting his feelings.

Just as soon as she’d eaten something. She’d thrown around more magic last night than she did in most months, and she’d eaten nothing since lunch the previous day. Twilight hadn’t realized it was possible to be so hungry. She was certain that if she didn’t eat something right away, her stomach might try eating her own backbone. So Twilight tried to apologize and thank Spike with a warm, genuine smile while she settled down to eat. I’ll sort things out after breakfast. She thought.

Pinkie Pie found some hay in a pack and passed it around, along with one of the canteens. “Ugh,” Rarity said, “Plain hay. I haven’t eaten just hay in ages. I suppose I’ve been a bit spoilt, living in Ponyville. It’s awfully easy to forget to be grateful for the important things in life, like good food and a warm bed, until one has to do without.”

Pinkie Pie nodded somberly. “I hear ya, sister. Hey, where’s the Princess?”

“Keepin’ a lookout, I suspect.” Applejack said. “Maybe somepony should bring her somethin’ ta eat. You know, in case she hasn’t eaten already.”

“On it.” Rainbow Dash held a hoof out to Spike, who threw her a few more oat bars. At the mention of Celestia, Twilight’s mind began retracing the previous day, reliving all the vague inconsistencies and moments that didn’t make sense. In particular, she thought of one question she probably didn’t need to ask Celestia.

After Rainbow Dash vanished from the cave leaving nothing but a rainbow-colored blur across Twilight’s field of vision, she spoke up. “I’m curious about something.” Everyone stopped and gave her their full attention. “The chamber we were all trapped in. . . how did you all manage to escape and come and rescue me?”

“Oh! Oh!” Pinkie Pie bounced to her hooves and began pantomiming wildly while she spoke. “At first, you went all glowy and poofed into thin air, then Celestia got real upset like ‘grrrr’ and said you’d been pony-napped, and she was about to do her own glowy poofy thing when Rarity stepped up to the door and made a weird hummm-y noise and the big rock just sort of shuffled and ka-chunked by little bits and pieces into a whole new doorway! It even looked pretty, you should have seen it Twilight! Then fresh air well not fresh air but fresher air kind of wooshed into the room and the changeling made a break for it but I clobbered it on the head with my packs like thonk and Spike jumped onto its back and whispered something terribly not-nice into its ear and then Celestia ran ahead to find you like fwoom! And. . . and that’s it, I think.” Pinkie Pie stood panting in the center of the companions facing Twilight with wide blue eyes and a giant grin.

Twilight couldn’t help it, the corners of her mouth turned up a bit. “It’s a good thing I’m fluent in ‘Pinkie’ or I’d need somepony to translate for me.”

“I understand it better’n I can speak it.” Applejack added.

“I speak enough ‘Pinkie’ to get by.” Rarity sniffed. “I mean, I can get directions and order in restaurants and such.” Spike laughed.

“But Rarity,” Twilight grew serious again. “How did you move the stone out of the way when nopony else could?”

“Why Twilight,” Rarity flashed Twilight a dazzling smile. “I asked politely, of course.”

Twilight didn’t think that was any kind of answer, but she could see that Rarity wasn’t joking with her. Twilight pondered this for a moment. Maybe it had something to do with her Element. Twilight nodded to herself. She could pursue that later. In the meantime, another question bothered her even more. “Okay, here’s something else strange. The changelings, they feed by mimicking a pony who has a life and friends, and they absorb the love and affection they receive, right? Like emotional parasites.” Her friends shrugged or nodded.

“That’s what the changeling queen said.” Spike said.

Pinkie Pie shook her head, her tousled pink mane bouncing around as she did so. “Actually, Princess Cadence said that. The moldy swiss-cheese queen just agreed with her.”

Twilight didn’t remember exactly, but she trusted Pinkie Pie’s strangely accurate memory more than she trusted her own. Twilight continued, “Ok, and they seem to gain some mental control over whoever they’re feeding off of. So, it’s in their best interest to remain undiscovered, isn’t it? I mean, it’s got to be impossible for them to feed off of affection if everypony knows who and what they are, right?”

“Perhaps they can feed off of other emotions.” Princess Celestia said from the entryway to the cave. The sun shone full on her, illuminating the colors in her mane and glinting off of her crown and peytral. She was studying Twilight with an odd look, a strange combination of awe and unfamiliar unease. She started forward, crossing into shadow with Rainbow Dash pacing her at her side, and her expression smoothed into practiced neutrality.

Twilight’s brow creased in thought. “Even if they can, everypony knows that friendship and love are the most powerful forces in the world. Why did the changelings invade Canterlot openly? For a chance to feed off of fear and anger? It makes no sense!” Celestia said nothing. She seemed to be waiting for something. Twilight’s eyes widened in comprehension as something Cinder had said clicked with her own memories. “When we reached Canterlot Tower, it was absolutely crawling with changelings.” Twilight continued in a much softer voice. “They never wanted the city, did they? They wanted a distraction so they could steal the Elements of Harmony.” She reached up to touch the crown still set atop her head. It hadn’t fallen off during the night.

Celestia paused for a moment before answering. “Well, they certainly did want Canterlot. Yet it seems they were after the Elements as well. Creatures like that are always looking for more power, however they can find it. It seems I had protected the Elements well enough, for they didn’t reach them before Princess Cadence and your brother ousted them from our fair city.”

Twilight added, “Even if they did get their hooves on them, they wouldn’t have been able to use them, right?”

Celestia smiled and addressed the entire group. “No. Of this I am certain. When my sister destroyed the physical representations of the Elements, some of their essence was drawn into the six of you. Each of you now lives and breathes a portion of the spectrum of their power. You are living Elements, I suppose. The physical aspects of these Elements merely contain what remains of those crystals shattered in the Everfree Forest. They can help you channel your latent power, but much of that power lies within each of you now.”

“Princess,” Twilight asked. “Had the changelings found the Elements, assuming they could use them, what did they plan to do with them?”

Celestia turned and looked her pupil in the eyes. “I’m not sure, Twilight Sparkle.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Twilight saw Applejack recoil as though she’d been slapped. Twilight glanced towards her, and saw a strange, faraway look in her eyes. Twilight had a strong sense of déjà-vu, but her train of thought was derailed by another question.

For the first time since waking up, Fluttershy spoke. “Um, Princess? What happened to all the animals around here?” Once again, Fluttershy’s eyes shone with worry. Rainbow Dash moved to stand by her side, waiting for Celestia’s response.

The Princess threw a very concerned look at Twilight before closing her eyes and shaking her head. “Perhaps there will be time for questions later. We still have a long way to go, and even at our best pace, it’ll be long days before we reach Manetreal by hoof. I suggest we gather our things and set out.”

As Applejack and Rarity began picking up scattered supplies, and Spike started gathering what bits of trash had fallen to the ground, Twilight glanced at Fluttershy in consternation. Fluttershy looked sad, but it was clear she was planning on following Celestia’s lead. Twilight, however, wasn’t ready to drop it. She’d gone long enough without having her questions answered. “Princess Celestia?” The regal alicorn froze in mid-step. “I’d also like to know what happened to the wildlife in this area. Was it the changelings?” Twilight’s tone was conversational, but what she said felt very confrontational. Everyone stopped and glanced nervously at the Princess.

“Twilight,” Celestia sounded low on patience. “I think it would be a good idea to answer this question later.” She said without glancing at her student.

“Why, Princess?” Twilight asked very nicely, but a bit of stubbornness glinted beneath her voice.

Celestia closed her eyes and took several slow, steady breaths. When she opened her lavender-colored eyes again, they were full of frustration. “Fine. We shall address this now.” Spike and Pinkie Pie exchanged a nervous glance, but no one spoke. Celestia composed herself and settled back on her haunches. “Twilight Sparkle, what is magic?” She asked in a tone Twilight remembered well from any number of lessons she’d had in the past several years.

Twilight answered right away, as though she were reciting a litany she’d memorized years ago. “Magic is the unicorn ability to shape energy with will.”

Celestia nodded. “While that certainly is true, where does that energy come from?”

Twilight shifted uncomfortably. “Um, it comes from deep within the self. But Princess, I don’t really see what. . .”

Celestia interrupted her. “That’s not a good answer, and you know it.” The Princess flicked her tail in annoyance. “What ‘energy’ does one draw upon? Name it for us.”

Twilight had never encountered that question in her studies. “Um, well, I have guesses, but I don’t think you’re looking for a guess, are you?”

“Naturally not, Twilight Sparkle.” Celestia paused for a moment. “Then let me approach the question from another angle. What forces hold the universe together? The stars and the planets?”

Twilight pondered that before answering. “I’d say gravity. Gravity and inertia, I suppose.”

“Correct. And what about the very small? What forces do we find holding atoms together?”

“Oh, I haven’t studied physics in so long. . . Augh.” Twilight’s brow creased in thought as she leafed through memories. She stamped a hoof, kicking a couple of loose stones about. “I remember something about a strong nuclear force and a weak nuclear force, but I didn’t understand them very well, I’m afraid.”

“You have answered well enough, my student.” Some of the haughtiness drained from Celestia’s voice, replaced by compassion and tenderness. She glanced at Fluttershy, but turned back to Twilight as she continued. “And what forces hold ponies together? Ponies and birds and squirrels and dogs and goats, what universal forces hold the living world together and keep us all connected?”

Twilight didn’t respond, but her eyes grew unfocused and distant. Rarity offered an answer instead. “Well, you’re referring to love, of course. Aren’t you? Love and friendship and compassion?”

Celestia nodded. “Among others. These forces are indeed magic, and they hold the whole of our world together, as you all have discovered. The ties between friends, between lovers, between family, these are the sparks which compose the magic of our world. Yes, much of this magic resides within the heart, but much more exists between us, within the ties which bind us together.”

Twilight spoke. “It was me.” Fluttershy gasped in comprehension. Twilight’s voice was empty and dull, as unfocused as her gaze. “I drained the life right out of this forest, didn’t I? When I fought Cinder.” She paused as another memory came back to her. “He even tried to warn me, tried to tell what I was doing.”

“How could you?” Fluttershy whispered, shocked horror in her eyes.

Celestia pitched her voice to address the entire cavern. “Perhaps I am to blame. Had I better instructed you in the nature and origin of magic, perhaps you would have known. But this is a dangerous secret, only usable by a few, and not something we make a habit of teaching in schools.” Celestia walked over to stand next to Twilight and draped a comforting wing over her. “The creatures of this forest will remember themselves. Given time, they will rediscover their spirits, and the connections between one another.”

“Sure.” Twilight did not sound the slightest bit comforted. “If they don’t starve to death first. Or let themselves get eaten.”

Celestia’s brow creased in consternation, and she slowly withdrew her wing. She also couldn’t refute Twilight’s words. “I am sorry my student. I had no wish to lay this at your hooves now, when we still have so far to go.”

“Hey, she didn’t mean to.” Rainbow Dash said defensively to no one in particular. “It was an accident. Wasn’t it, Twilight?”

Twilight said nothing. Celestia urged everyone once again to get ready to leave. Then she approached Twilight and, in a very soft voice asked, “What else did that changeling say to you?” Twilight continued to say nothing, but deep within her mind dark thoughts were beginning to surface. Feelings she hadn’t allowed herself to examine, but they had been there nonetheless, eating away at her since her brother’s ill-fated wedding. Twilight was no longer certain she could rely on her monarch, her mentor. Not for protection from the dark things of this world, and not for the entire truth it would seem. Twilight felt as cold as if she’d been doused with ice water. Outwardly, all Twilight Sparkle offered was silence and a dull stare.

Celestia shook her head sadly and reached out to touch Twilight’s mane. Twilight flinched away a bit, and Celestia withdrew, a faint look of genuine pain on her face. Twilight felt a stab of pain too, but she didn’t allow herself to show it. Spike, Applejack and Pinkie Pie had resumed picking up and repacking supplies, so Twilight found her bags set neatly in a corner, and she hoisted them onto her back without magic. Until she had more answers, what else could she do but blindly follow where the Princess led? Celestia took Pinkie Pie’s pack and settled it over her own flanks. When everyone was ready, Celestia spoke again. “If we set a steady pace, we should reach Manetreal in two days. It’s important we don’t get separated. Dash, that means no flying ahead. Everypony, follow me.”

Twilight was lost in a fog of conflicting feelings. What had Cinder meant about Celestia ‘hiding’ her power? Why hadn’t Celestia told her it was possible to draw power from outside oneself? Just how much damage was Twilight herself capable of doing to the world? And why did she have the sinking feeling that Princess Celestia still wasn’t telling the whole truth? As they walked out into the early-afternoon sun, Twilight chewed these thoughts over, chasing them around and around in her head, determined to piece together some kind of answer.

08: Distrust

The second night the eight companions spent in the wilderness happened to be on the verge of a rolling grassy plain which seemed to lap against the forested foothills they’d descended from. Princess Celestia once again did without sleep through the night and, in lieu of conventional shelter, she maintained a protective shield to keep out the worst of the wind and the chill of night. With the sheer amount of walking they’d managed, Applejack and Celestia were the only ones able to stay awake for any length of time. Everyone else seemed to collapse directly into a deep sleep, their muscles shaking.

The following day was even worse. Despite the easy pace that the Princess set towards the south-east, heads began to droop and hooves began to drag. Pinkie Pie had to stop bouncing and walk normally. Rarity and Fluttershy both looked miserable and bedraggled, unaccustomed to such exertions. Twilight would have expected more complaints from Rarity, but whether the presence of royalty, a lack of energy or some newfound fortitude were the cause of her courage Twilight couldn’t say. Even Rainbow Dash, a natural athlete in her own right, hadn’t trained for this kind of endurance march; she looked as exhausted as everyone else. Spike insisted he walk his fair share, but as the third evening painted a beautiful sunset at their backs even Spike began to look like a derelict, shuffling mindlessly forward. The trek became a blur, only occasionally broken by stops to distribute food, crop grass or pass a canteen around.

Celestia kept them moving forward well past sunset, and it became apparent why as they crested a hill and stopped to stare at a brightly lit city nestled in a shallow valley below. “Princess?” Applejack glanced hopefully at Celestia, her ears swiveled forward and the lights of the city reflecting in her eyes. “Is that Manetreal?”

Celestia nodded. Rarity squeaked with delight. “Somewhere down there is a bathtub with my name all over it.” Rarity said. “I’m just dying for a chance to brush out this tangled mess I’ve become.” She twitched her tail to emphasize her point.

Twilight smiled. “And maybe a real bed too, something with covers and a pillow.”

“Oh!” Pinkie Pie regained a bit of her bounce. “And some real food! Not that the food we ate the last two days wasn’t real, but we could have food that’s even more real! Not more ‘real’ real, just realier than the already real food we’ve not really but sort of wanted to toss into a dustbin. . . wait, what was I talking about?” Her eyes brightened as the thought reoccurred to her. “Oh, can we stop at a diner somewhere?”

“Pinkie Pie,” Rainbow Dash shook her head fondly and chuckled, a stray breeze catching her mane and tousling it playfully. “You are so entertaining.”

Celestia wasn’t looking at the city anymore. She stared off into the east pensively. But after a few moments passed, she glanced down at Pinkie Pie and answered her. “I don’t think we will be able to secure transport until the morning. There’s no harm in finding some food and a place to sleep for a bit.” Celestia did something then that no one present had ever seen before. She yawned. “Just remember to stay together.” The companions, galvanized by the prospect of civilized comforts, stretched into a light canter towards the city. They reached the edge of a field of wheat and at Rarity’s and Celestia’s insistence changed their course to go around it. Their excited canter drooped back into a tired trot once they found a road, and as they walked it led them to another road that led into the city proper.

Manetreal was a true city, with cobblestone streets and streetlights and tall buildings packed in close. Despite the late hour, there were still a few ponies out shopping or socializing. A couple of places blared loud music, the smells of sarsaparilla and cider clinging to these bass-heavy and well-lit locales. Pony-drawn carts cruised the streets, many of them slowing down or stopping completely when they noticed Princess Celestia walking with an entourage of bedraggled ponies down their sidewalks. Twilight blinked rapidly, trying hard to focus on her surroundings. The city was large and imposing, an altogether different feel from the cozy cottages of Ponyville, but Twilight noted that the city was relatively clean. She wasn’t quite sure what she expected to find so far from the capitol, but she supposed she expected more garbage, homelessness or unrest. Things she had read about in history books. Some of her suspicions surrounding Princess Celestia diffused as she reconsidered how her rule seemed to ensure everyone great and small was provided for. Whatever Celestia was hiding, she genuinely cared for her subjects.

They found an open diner without much of a problem, the aromatic smells of fresh berries and flowers wafting over them as they entered. The place wasn’t large, but it was well lit and clean. Conversations hushed as every pony in the diner turned to stare. Somewhere near the back, a waitress dropped a glass with tiny crash, making Fluttershy squeak and jump. One of the waitresses, a cream-colored earth pony with an elegant coif approached with wide eyes, stumbling over her own hooves. She bowed without taking her eyes off of the Princess. “Y-Your Highness.” She breathed in wonder and apprehension. “I had no idea you’d be in. . . Um, shou. . . that is, if it pleases your Majesty, would you like. . .”

“A table for myself and my friends would be lovely, if you please.” Celestia smiled warmly down at her. “And some menus.”

“Of course!” The waitress scurried over to the furthest corner from the door and motioned everyone towards the largest booth in the place. Conversations resumed around the diner as the seven ponies and baby dragon crossed it, but it was clear that the topics had all changed. Spike clambered up and scooted in, his chin barely clearing the tabletop. Rainbow Dash dropped her packs and flew over the table, taking a seat next to Spike. Pinkie Pie bounced up onto the table, nearly fell over, and blushed with embarrassment while she climbed carefully down the other side. Applejack and Fluttershy took their seats normally, while Rarity levitated a nearby pair of napkins over and tried wiping Pinkie Pie’s hoofmarks off of the table while Twilight squeezed into the booth next to Applejack.

“Honestly Pinkie,” Rarity sounded offended. “We’re dining with royalty and you walk on the table. It’s as though we can’t take you anywhere.”

“It’s like she was born in a barn or somethin’.” Applejack agreed.

Pinkie Pie looked crestfallen. “I’m sorry, I hadn’t really thought about it like that.” Then she perked back up. “I just figured I was dining with friends! Right?”

“Thank you for the complement, Pinkamena.” Celestia’s laughter was warm and affectionate. “Or should I just call you Pinkie?”

“Of course! All my friends do!” Pinkie Pie said. “It matches my mane! And my coat.”

The waitress returned with menus, accompanied by a bronze unicorn levitating a tray of waters. The waitress gasped in horror when she noticed the Princess still standing. “I’m so sorry, your Highness! Um, would one of these stools suffice?” She began dragging a small padded seat over, something that the tall Princess would have serious trouble sitting on, considering her height.

“Thank you, this will do fine.” Celestia’s horn glowed faintly, and with a soft pop the chair became a large, plush and elegant cushion. The waitress looked a little startled, but she set the cushion down where Celestia could settle on it, which she did. Twilight reached out and grabbed a menu, as everyone else did the same.

After setting out the waters, the waitress shooed her helper away and turned back to the table. “W-Would everypony like a minute to look over the men. . .”

“DONE!” Rainbow Dash fairly shouted, jabbing a hoof into the air. “Seasoned hay fries, and a short stack of wheatcakes with dahlias.”

“Open-faced daisy sandwich with applesauce and hay fries on the side, please an’ thank you.” Applejack closed her menu and passed it forward.

“Large stack of sweettoast with extra syrup! And an apple pie. Not a slice of pie, but like the whole pie!” The waitress looked up from writing in her pad, her pencil nearly falling from her mouth. “What?” Pinkie Pie asked innocently, “I’ll share!”

“I’d like the sprout salad please, with tarragon vinaigrette and extra cucumber.” Rarity said.

“Um, I’ll take the salad too.” Fluttershy whispered as she adjusted her wings. “That sounds nice.”

Twilight was still scanning the menu. “Well, I guess I’ll take the alfalfa soup, and a buttermilk salad on the side. Hold the onions.”

Spike piped up. “Any chance you serve sapphires or rubies?” The waitress blankly shook her head. “No precious stones of any kind?” She shook her head again. Spike crossed his arms in a huff. “I thought at least a city this size might cater to dragons. I mean. . . fine, I’ll have a grilled oat and daffodil sandwich and a berry smoothie.”

Celestia finally turned her gaze to the waitress. The waitress’s hooves shook slightly, though she tried not to show it. Celestia leaned down and said, “I’ll take the fried carnation sandwich, extra hay fries and a box of crullers, please.” The waitress stared for a bit too long. Celestia added, in a fair imitation of a certain mink-maned earth pony, “What? I’ll share!” Everyone at the table burst into giggles, startling the waitress who shook her head, wrote it down and put her pencil away.

“Heh. Of course, your Majesty. Right away.” She scampered off to put the orders in. As she vanished around a corner, the sounds of nervous and excited whispers drifted out.

While the companions started in on their ice waters and settled themselves comfortably, Twilight took a deep breath. “Um, there’s something I’d like to say.” Seven sets of eyes turned to look at her. “And I want to say it in front of everypony.” She turned to the cute reptilian member of their group. She’d gone over this so many times in her head that the words came out smoothly. “Spike, I owe you an apology. I know I said I didn’t want you coming with us, and I still kind of feel that way, but I. . .”

“I know Twilight,” Spike interrupted. “You just wanted to keep me safe. I understand.” There was a sad undertone to his voice.

“Yes, exactly.” Twilight continued, brushing back her mane self-consciously. “And it’s only because I care about you. . . But that’s not what I wanted to say. What I wanted to say was. . . I never meant to hurt your feelings and. . . and I’m glad you’re here.”

Spike looked as though a tiny weight had been lifted off his scaly shoulders. His smile seemed sad and happy at the same time. “Thanks Twilight.”

“Besides,” An excited Rainbow Dash added. “You rode a changeling like it was nothing! And I saw that sweet move you pulled keeping my Element out of their smelly hooves. You were awesome!” She wrapped an arm around Spike and gave him a friendly hoof-noogie. “You’re the reason I get to wear this swag around Manetreal tonight!” She tapped her necklace with a hoof.

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it!” Pinkie Pie squealed. “He burnt off a piece of that changeling’s leg, and it poofed next to Celestia just like all those letters he’s sent!”

“Hahah! What? Ewww! That’s fantastic!” Rainbow Dash folded her forelegs to her chest and laughed hard. “That’s so hardcore!” Applejack and Twilight laughed a little too, while Spike blushed. Rainbow Dash wiped away a tear with a fetlock.

“Hardcore?” Fluttershy was so taken aback, she spoke at a normal level; the Fluttershy equivalent of yelling. “It was gross! But. . . it was very effective.”

“Spike was thoroughly indispensable.” Rarity said. “And we’re all so very proud of him.” Spike’s blush deepened noticeably, and he grinned.

Celestia nodded in agreement. “I would add that such praise may be used to describe each of you. As far as I’m concerned, medals all around. When we return to Canterlot, of course.”

Twilight mentally cringed away from the discussion. Unwanted memories of failure haunted her at the Princess’s words. I don’t deserve a medal. Twilight thought, I deserve to be locked up for nearly getting everypony killed. Memories of losing her fight with Cinder, failing to open the stone doorway, triggering the initial attack, all played through her mind as the food was brought out, and her friends laughed and bickered while Twilight ate in silence. She barely tasted her food, despite her hunger. When they had mostly finished eating, while Rainbow Dash and Spike were helping Pinkie finish the pie she’d ordered, and Pinkie and Applejack snacked on crullers, Twilight found something she wanted to ask the Princess. She came back to herself and refocused on the conversation.

Rarity seemed to be stating something very important. “All I’m saying is that I think it would be quite sensible to try to look my best, no matter what the situation.”

“Ok.” Rainbow Dash leaned forward, clearly trying hard to make a point. She barely swallowed before started speaking. “I can see being lost in the woods with a bunch of ponies, but what if you were lost by yourself? All hungry and alone? Then what would the point be of trying to brush out your mane?”

“I reckon she’d want to look gussied up on account of a rescue by some handsome stallion.” Applejack drawled.

Rarity leaned back, gesturing grandly. “The council rests.”

“I don’t know.” Rainbow Dash looked unconvinced. “Seems like a lot of trouble to go through when you’re playing the ‘you never know’ card. I think your energy might be better spent finding food, or your way home.”

Spike finished his slice of pie. “Hey, what if you were rescued by a stallion who really goes for the ‘mussed up and rolled in leaves’ look?”

“Spike!” Twilight gasped in shock.

Rainbow Dash leaned in again. “Hey yeah! He’s got a point!”

Rarity shrugged eloquently. “That clearly would not be my type of stallion.”

Celestia tracked the conversation fondly. Twilight reached out and touched her wing, and Celestia turned her smile on her student, a question in her eyes. Twilight glanced at the trio of balloons adorning the flap on Pinkie’s pack still cinched around Celestia’s flank before quietly venturing her question. “Princess? What exactly does the Eleme. . .”

“I would urge you not to speak of it.” Celestia interrupted. The table talk stopped as faced grew serious. “It isn’t necessarily safe to discuss these things in public. Despite my preparations, that creature managed to bring a dangerous power into my country, within my borders. Word of that getting out would benefit nopony.”

“So, that’s what’s important?” Twilight asked incredulously, “Making your subjects blindly believe that you can protect them?” Her tone made it clear that Celestia could do no such thing.

The Princess seemed to grow taller and her voice darkened a shade. “I speak of our safety, Twilight Sparkle. There are other beings in this world who covet power, even if we do not mention changeling hives. Knowledge of the power we carry could be dangerous to those of us here.”

Twilight ducked her head sheepishly and glanced away. “Of course. My apologies, your Highness.” Applejack glanced between the two, looking a little lost.

Celestia looked mollified. “We can discuss this further once we have a place to rest.” Celestia glanced towards the door where a crowd of ponies had formed, trying to glance in through the windows or take pictures through the open door.

“That sounds lovely.” Rarity produced some bits and left them on the table, next to the neatly-stacked dishes she’d used.

“Woah,” Rainbow Dash said, “I don’t think they were planning on charging the Princess. I mean c’mon, we’re dining with the ruler of Equestria.”

“Half of the ruling Diarchy.” Rarity corrected. “And yes, and despite forgetting to introduce herself, I thought our waitress did a fine job keeping her head. One doesn’t expect royalty to drop unannounced into a common diner. A nice tip is the absolute least we can do.” Rarity glanced around and dropped her voice to barely a whisper. “Even if her hairstyle is a touch out of date.”

As the cluster of ponies moved to get up, Celestia motioned them all to sit back down. “Please everypony, just a couple of minutes more.” Everyone sat back down without question. Twilight looked around at her friends before she returned to her seat. Rainbow Dash drummed her hooves on the table, at least until Applejack glared her into silence. Twilight silently wondered which of her friends would be the first to question the Princess. She should have guessed.

“Why aren’t we leaving?” Pinkie Pie asked innocently. Even after days of tiring hikes through rough terrain, she couldn’t seem to sit still.

“We are finding a place to spend the night.” Celestia glanced at the door again, but she failed to elaborate.

“Oh.” Pinkie seemed satisfied with that answer.

Applejack didn’t. “Uh, yer Highness? How exactly are we finding anything?”

“And here he comes now.” Celestia smoothly stood, motioning everyone else to do the same. “Please gather your things.”

“Uh, here who comes now?”

Just then a short bespectacled earth pony with a graying mane and a fancy, if dated, suit bustled through a crowd of ponies by the front door. “I say,” His voice sounded as old as the rest of him. “Shift your flanks and stop gawking. I say, young filly, move along!” He adjusted his thick glasses and peered across the dining area. “Ah, Princess Celestia, there you are.”

“Mayor Hayfield, such a pleasant surprise. It’s been far too long.”

“Yes, yes.” The mayor of Manetreal made his way over to the group. “And here you go dropping in without your entourage and without so much as a spot of notice. Half the city already seems to be talking about your arrival, and I hadn’t a clue. You’ve made me look a right foal, you know.” As he drew near enough to make out the state of the Princess’s mane he pulled up short. If anything, his voice seemed even more tired. “Ah, more ‘troubles’ I see.” He glanced around at the rest of the crew. “And troubles enough to involve the famous Element Bearers.” He sighed.

“You are correct.” The Princess conceded. “And since you are here, perhaps you can assist me and my companions.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Lodgings at the Place d’Hooves is already being secured for you, although I will have to make additional arrangements for our other guests.” Rarity squeaked with delight, while Pinkie Pie and Applejack exchanged a confused glance. Mayor Hayfield took no notice. “What else might you need?”

“A train to the coast, departing as early as possible.”

“Well,” The mayor nodded to himself. “That certainly can be done. And if you cannot stay, I understand. However, perhaps you can explain the passenger train that arrived two nights ago bearing injured ponies and tales of changelings. That caused quite the stir you know, the papers are still talking about it.”

Celestia nodded her head the smallest fraction. “I understand. There is at least one changeling hive within our borders, and I would suggest remaining vigilant, but I can assure you they are not an immediate threat. Standard security protocols should suffice.”

The old pony nodded, his glasses sliding up and down his nose as he did. “Of course, your Highness. That’s a relief to hear.” Twilight wondered how she could know that, after the attack on Canterlot. Did it have something to do with the Element of. . . Deception, was it? Or something else altogether? Mayor Hayfield had already turned towards the door. “Well, we have transportation waiting out front. Let’s get you all settled in.”

They all made their way outside, where the street was filling with onlookers being ushered back by a few police ponies. A pair of carriages waited in the road, each drawn by a pair of smartly-dressed stallions. The mayor led Celestia to the first cart, followed by Rarity trying very hard to fix her mane and trying equally hard not to look as though she were fixing her mane. Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie joined them. Twilight, Applejack and Spike angled towards the second carriage. Twilight glanced backward to find Fluttershy trying to hide behind her tail. Fluttershy met Twilight’s gaze and blushed, but she didn’t stop hiding until they made it to the door of their cart.

After they piled in, and the cart started moving, Spike asked, “So where are we headed? Plass de Hooves, or something? Is that some kind of hotel?”

“I reckon it must be, but by all rights you’re askin’ the wrong pony.” Applejack said.

“Rarity seemed excited.” The way Spike said it, it sounded like anything she found exciting must be the most wonderful thing in history.

Fluttershy forgot to slouch down out of sight from the sidewalks as she spoke. “Oh. The Place d’Hooves only the most elegant hotel in the city. Probably in all of Equestria. Only the most important and most famous ponies stay there. Why, I bet it’s just spectacular.”

“I don’t care if our room’s got a satin slip’n’slide, a disco bowling lane and emeralds pour out the faucet so long as the bed’s comfortable.” Applejack adjusted her Stetson on her head.

Spike’s eyes became dreamy. “You really think there’s a faucet like that somewhere?”

Twilight shook her head in wonder. “I don’t understand. What kind of nutrition do you even get from gemstones?”

Without missing a beat, Spike replied, “Minerals.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. Spike shrugged, smiling to himself. The carriage continued down the streets, making the occasional turn. Twilight hesitated, as though she was about to say something but thought better of it. Applejack noticed and said, “Out with it, sugarcube. What’s got yer tail in a twist?”

Twilight glanced around with a troubled expression. “Is anypony else curious about what else Celestia isn’t telling us?” She asked softly.

Spike looked exasperated. “Why do you keep doubting the Princess? You pried at her secrets less than a week ago, and now she’s taking us around the world to answer your questions. What more do you want?”

“No Spike, she’s right.” Applejack’s brow creased in thought. “I feel like there is somethin’ we’re missing. I just can’t put my hoof on it.”

Fluttershy glanced around nervously. “What do you think it is? Something scary?”

Twilight glanced at Applejack. “I think Celestia knows exactly what the changelings would have done with the Elements if they’d gotten a hold of them.” Applejack nodded in agreement. Twilight smiled and continued. “I thought you caught that, AJ.”

Applejack nodded. “Yeah, it didn’t feel right when she said she didn’t have a clue.”

Spike raised a claw in the air. “Wouldn’t the changelings have used the Elements of Harmony to take over Equestria? Enslave the population, that sort of thing?”

“I would think so.” Applejack said.

Twilight thought for a moment. “Celestia said that using the Elements against their intended purpose might destroy them. Maybe the changelings just wanted the Elements broken, so they couldn’t be used against them.”

Fluttershy seemed to be half-hiding behind her mane. “But. . . but if that were the case, why wouldn’t she just tell us?”

Twilight leveled a serious gaze at her friend. “That’s what I’ve been asking myself the past two days. It just doesn’t add up” The four of them sat in contemplative silence for awhile.

“Well, here’s my trouble.” Applejack leaned forward earnestly. “See, every time I see Princess Celestia, I can’t help but trust her, you know? Just looking at her makes me feel like everythin’s going to be horseshoes and hammocks.”

Spike and Twilight nodded their agreement. Twilight in particular looked torn as she said, “That’s what makes all of this so unbearable. I know she’s hiding something, but every time I’m near her it’s like I’m the one who’s wrong for even thinking these things.”

“Don’t you trouble your head overmuch, Twi’. Even if she’s playing her cards a mite close to her chest, I don’t think she’s lookin’ to harm anypony. Besides that, we’ll keep our eyes and ears open. And should it come down to it, we’ll be on your side. She might be the ruler of Equestria, but you’re our friend. Ain’t nopony can change that, am I right?”

Spike jumped up and gave Twilight a hug as he said. “Of course!” Startled, Twilight hugged him back. Fluttershy closed her eyes, smiled and nodded.

Applejack smiled too, patting Twilight on the back. Then she turned contemplative again. “Twilight, why is it we only seem to have this sort of conversation durin’ carriage rides?” Twilight giggled, and that set everyone else to laughing.

The hotel they eventually arrived at was as large and as glamorous as any of them could have wished. Unfortunately, they were all too tired to enjoy it much. Twilight barely took in the beautiful artwork, the dazzlingly enormous chandelier and the expensive carpeting before she found herself collapsed atop a sumptuous bed and mumbled something about needing the washtub. Barely one moment later, Pinkie Pie was jumping up and down on the bed right next to her, jostling her around. Twilight wanted to glare, but her eyes wouldn’t open. “Pinkie Pie. . .” Twilight mumbled. “Go away.”

“But Twilight, you’ve got to get up!” The spastic pink pony punctuated each word with an extra-high bounce.

“Twilight became angry with her friend. “Go to sleep, Pinkie! We need to get some kind of rest before morning.”

Pinkie Pie sproinged off of the bed, landed nimbly on her hooves and touched her nose to Twilight’s. She giggled. “This is morning, sillypants. And Celestia says we can sleep on the train. C’mon!”

She bounced away, revealing an amused Spike munching on some fancy-looking rye chips. “You know?” Spike said with a tired smile, “I think this is what they call ‘karma’.”

Twilight said something that sounded like “Mmmff.” She blinked blearily around the hotel room. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost dawn.” Rainbow Dash said. She was slumped next to her packs against the wall. Her rainbow-colored mane spiked chaotically in every direction, slightly obscuring eyes that radiated a mix of exhaustion and determination. “Celestia’s already downstairs. We’re supposed to meet her once Rarity’s done washing up.” Rainbow Dash’s gaze tracked from the closed bathroom door to following Pinkie Pie as she bounced through another circuit of the room, her cotton candy mane poofing and fluffing with each bounce. Twilight rubbed some grit out of her eyes and leveled a questioning glance at Dash. The cerulean pegasus explained. “Room service showed up. They brought coffee.” Twilight’s eyes widened with alarm.

“Oh my goodness I love coffee!” Pinkie Pie blurted in a sing-song voice. “It’s the bestity best! The Cakes have never sold any but I can’t imagine why not because everypony would want to drink a mug or three or five! Twilight! you should totally try some!”

Rarity flung the bathroom door open and stepped out, her mane and tail perfectly styled. Her coat fairly shone in the light. “Finally!” She spun gracefully in place and struck a pose. “Oh, finally I look good enough to walk through this hotel!” Spike spilled the plate of rye chips all over the plush carpet and scrambled to pick them up. Rainbow Dash stood up and slung her packs over her flanks.

Pinkie Pie gasped dramatically. “Oh Rarity you look so amazingly amazing! I mean you look so amazing that only using one amazing isn’t enough! I need two!!!”

Rarity looked nonplussed. “Thank you Pinkie Pie, but do be a dear and stop speaking in italics if you please. Perhaps you should go check up on the Princess.”

“Okey dokey LOKEY!” Pinkie Pie ended the last word on one hoof, and then vanished out the open door.

Twilight dragged herself off the bed. “One second. Um, Rarity, do you mind lending me your brush? I didn’t pack one myself.”

Rarity gasped, “Twilight!” She sounded downright scandalized.

“I know, I know. . .” Twilight sighed. “I should have thought I’d need one sooner or later.”

“No darling,” Rarity levitated her brush to within Twilight’s reach. “I’m shocked you feel the need to ask. In fact, take it. I packed two.”

Twilight smiled. “Thanks Rarity. You’re wonderful.” She shut herself in the bathroom and quickly ran her mane under the sink.

Stepping aboard the train car at the Manetreal train station, Twilight felt anxious. She tried to glance everywhere at once, never quite certain what she was looking for. Although the train sat solidly atop the tracks, radiating stability to Twilight’s heightened senses, she didn’t quite trust it. The events of the last few days had left her twitchy. The eight of them filed into an empty passenger car with the exception of Pinkie Pie, who bounced aboard. It was a simple affair with thin carpeting and bland canvas-covered cushions atop the benches. As they stashed their packs and claimed seats, Twilight turned to the Princess. “Celestia?”

“Yes Twilight?”

“Um, don’t take this the wrong way, but. . . why are we back on a train?”

“Yeah,” Applejack leant Twilight her support. “You know, ‘derail my train once, shame on you. . .’ and so on.”

Rather than take offense, Celestia smiled. “I understand the risks. Here, gather around me and I’ll explain.” As the final whistle blew and the train lurched into motion, everyone made themselves comfortable. “A train is still the fastest way to get to the coast, and we’ve already lost more than two days. I have no wish to delay ourselves or those waiting for us any longer than we must.”

“But,” Twilight looked around the passenger car. “There are ponies aboard the other cars. Innocents just making a trip. Aren’t we endangering them?”

Celestia looked grave. “Yes. But it was a choice between endangering a train with few innocents, or a city with many. And the longer we might have delayed, the greater the danger would have become.”

Twilight pondered for a moment, trying to get her fuzzy brain to work in straight lines. “Okay. You’re worried that the changelings tracked us to Manetreal, so we needed to cause a stir going into the city so that everypony would know that we left.”

Celestia agreed. “Yes. I’d prefer to guard a train full of bystanders rather than have an angry hive of changelings sweep through the city searching for us.”

Pinkie Pie, who had spent the time on the train so far rocking back and forth with both hooves clamped over her mouth, burst into loud, babbling speech. “Omigoshomigoshyou’reso SMART!!!” She sprang from her seat and bounced around the train car. “You’re like a regular smarty smart super awesome brainy royal PONY GENIUS!!! You’re a total-OOF!”

Rainbow Dash managed to catch up to the pink earth pony and cram a hoof into her mouth. “Pinkie Pie,” Rainbow dash said very slowly and calmly. “What did we talk about in the carriage?”

Pinkie Pie’s whole body vibrated in place, but she answered Dash’s question. “Mmf ffdnt trrk mmfmff dknk kfff.”

“That’s right. You shouldn’t talk after drinking coffee. Now, do you think you can try sitting down again?”

Pinkie Pie glanced around before answering, her shaking becoming somewhat less violent before her worried eyes met Rainbow Dash’s and she nodded. “Mmm hmm. Rrr trr, drshr.”

“It’s okay,” Rainbow dash consoled her. “Just try to have a seat with us.” Pinkie Pie lunged back to her seat, zipping her lips and miming throwing away a key.

“Heheh.” Spike sniggered mischievously. “The next time we need to enter a changeling hive, we could just caffeinate Pinkie Pie, count to three and throw.”

Celestia smiled fondly. When the car was quiet again, Celestia continued. “To answer the true question, I do not yet believe we are safe. At the very least,” she dropped her voice to barely above a whisper, “I don’t think Cinder will give up his Element quietly. Yet we escaped his hive at the height of his power, and he knows it. He may try to recover his treasure before we leave the continent, but I do not believe he will succeed. That, and he must catch us first. The sooner we can get out over the open ocean, the sooner I can dispose of this dark relic.” She gently patted the packs cinched around her waist.

“Well that’s a relief.” Rarity sighed. “But I’d feel even more reassured if I learned the spell for revealing changelings. I’ve gone far too long without it.”

“I agree, Rarity. Twilight and I can teach you, which is part of the reason I paid for the entire passenger car, that we would have the privacy required to practice.”

Hopefully she means after a nap. Twilight thought.

“Part of the reason?” Rainbow Dash asked. “”What’s the rest of the reason?”

Celestia hesitated, glancing out the window as the city began to give way to countryside. “In all honesty, Rainbow Dash, I need to reveal a secret to you all. Something I probably should have explained before today.” As Celestia spoke Twilight’s eyes brightened and her back straightened. Relief flooded through her, and she felt like laughing. Finally, Celestia would reveal what she’d been hiding all along. Twilight could stop second-guessing her and the world could go back to normal.

“I wish to reveal to you all what I know of the Elements.” Celestia’s voice provided a soothing counterpoint to the clacking of the train. “The simplest theory, and the one I believe is most accurate, claims that the Elements we have discovered are naturally occurring deposits formed in response to long-term exposure to ley lines, or magical currents. These gems, if they are of the correct size and constituency to resonate perfectly with the specific energy flowing through them, will absorb and be changed by this energy, slowly enchanting the gem. The stone can then act as a focus for magical energy, allowing one to draw it through the artifact and manipulate it at will. The location and quality of the stone reflects the kind of power it controls, and therefore how it might be used.”

Rainbow Dash looked like she was trying really hard to follow. “So that diamond thing you snagged off of that changeling guy was an Element, buuuuuut it was a bad one?”

“To put it bluntly, yes. It has been attuned to and harnesses the powers of trickery and lies. It was rumored that there was an Element of Deception in existence somewhere, but I could not find it. How the changelings might have discovered it I don’t know. But in any case it is dangerous to wield. Lies beget lies, and the power to change what ponies think is true is potent indeed. We must not let it fall out of our hooves.”

Twilight almost laughed out loud at the irony, but she contained herself. She felt crestfallen. Celestia wasn’t going to explain herself here. The theory behind the Elements was something she’d already been familiar with, and beyond that little else was surprising. Yet as she swallowed that disappointment again her mind followed another thread to its logical conclusion. “An Element can act as a magical focus?” Twilight asked aloud. “You mean the way a unicorn’s horn does?”

“In my long life I have never heard of any earth ponies or pegasi who have come in contact with an Element before, but the theory is sound. The spectrum of power available would be limited to what specific energy the Element is attuned to, but your Elements should allow contact with magical power, whether joined or separate. In short, each of you can probably use a little magic.”

Pinkie Pie exploded off of her seat. “I can do WHAT?!?!”

Peaceful Interlude

As the commuter train sped through a green and sunlit countryside, Twilight lay across a threadbare bench trying very hard to contain a giddy elation. She was watching Celestia instruct Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie and Applejack in the fundamentals of magic. Pinkie Pie still quivered with excitement, and Rainbow Dash looked equally enraptured. Applejack looked blank, as though she’d been hit over the head with a rake. And Fluttershy just sat quietly, eyes wide. Although she wasn’t part of the lesson, and could easily have taught it herself, Twilight felt a very real joy. To her, magic was an endless source of wonder. She’d never even dreamed of the possibility that she might one day share it with her friends. As she watched the lesson, she drummed her hooves against the bench and grinned excitedly.

However, her elation was relatively short-lived. Her friends found even simple magic more difficult than anyone had anticipated.

“How am I supposed to clear my mind and picture the apple at the same time? It makes no sense.”

“I reckon I ain’t usin’ the proper part of mah brain fer this.”

“Um. . . did it move? No? Oh. . . I’m sorry.”

“Apples are boring! Can I try levitating Spike?”

*sigh* “Isn’t something supposed to be happening about now? When do we blow stuff up?”

“There, see? Ah levitated the apple. It’s called a ‘hoof.’”

“Oh, good job Dashie! You looked like you tried really hard there! I’m sure you almost had it!”

“*squeak*”

“Now, y’all ain’t supposed ta. . . and ya ate it. Good fer you. How’d that taste?”

“Now that Pinkie Pie ate the apple, can we try levitating her instead?”

Shields were almost as disastrous. Fluttershy was the only one of the four who managed to generate anything at all. As a soft-yellow dome of light coalesced around the pegasus and her friends cheered her success, she blushed faintly. But when Celestia levitated a cushion and flung it at her, Fluttershy panicked, dropped her shield and got thwapped in the face. It was a somewhat disheartening end to hours of frustrating attempts.

When Princess Celestia tasked Twilight with helping Rarity learn the illusion-piercing spell, she started by instructing her student to change her own appearance. It took Twilight a full minute to clear her mind and actually cast the spell, but when the flash from her horn died another pony stood in her place. A white unicorn with a violet-streaked red mane, and a moon for a cutie mark. Spike did a double-take. “Wow Twilight, you look just like Moondancer!” But when Twilight turned to look at him, the colors of her face and mane blurred, and the shape of her eyes too. “Woah. That’s creepy.”

“Try to remain focused, Twilight.” Celestia said with a frown.

“Hmmm. . .” She still sounded like Twilight. She swished a hoof through the air and watched her glamour fray at the edges. “It’s harder than I remember.”

Celestia nodded. “You know the principals. Use your focus to breathe magic into the spell, and then allow the spell to hold the structure. Don’t force it.”

“I’m not sure I’ve practiced this enough, Princess.”

“Perhaps I should apply the spell for now.” Celestia turned towards Rarity. “Deception is all about showing us what we want to see, playing upon our preconceived notions. To pierce an effective illusion, one must first focus upon a feeling of skepticism. If you aren’t willing to see something unpleasant, your spell will fail.”

Rarity nodded. “I do believe I can manage that particular mindset. I’m always trying to view my boutique creations with something of a critical eye.”

“Good. Next, use your horn to try to feel the presence of a magical aura. Once you can sense it, you may be able to affect it.” Celestia’s horn flashed white, and a blurry Moondancer was replaced with a different pony. Rainbow Dash sniggered, and elbowed Fluttershy in the flank. “Now Rarity, approach Twilight and try to sense the magic clinging to her.”

Rarity did as she was asked, closing her eyes. The seconds dragged by. Twilight noticed all her friends were watching her rather than Rarity. Celestia’s illusion must have been convincing. All she could see of herself was a chestnut coat.

“Wait. . .” Rarity gasped a little. “I. . . I think I can sense it. It’s terribly subtle.”

“Yes.” Celestia agreed. “It might seem impossible to grasp, but if you can imagine the glamour as a garment woven of magic, your task is to find and pull one of the threads.”

Rarity seemed hesitant to nod, fearing to lose the sensation she’d found. She took her time, so Twilight was unprepared for the abrupt crawling sensation that covered her from crest to hoof. “Gah!” She yelled in a deep and masculine voice. “Easy!” Dash and Spike fell over together laughing, and Pinkie Pie burst into giggles. Even Fluttershy cracked a tiny, genuine smile. Twilight spun to look at her reflection, catching sight of a young stallion with a trio of colored pencils for a cutie mark. Twilight sighed and rolled her eyes.

“My sincerest apologies, Twilight. Please, let me try that again.”

09: Spark and Tinder

The persistent coniferous forests began to break apart as the train neared the coast. Eroded knobs of rock thrust their way out of the ground, pushing the trees aside. Twilight smelled the ocean before she saw it; a salty and refreshing smell undercut by something only faintly unpleasant. It was an interesting smell, and Twilight, a purple unicorn once again, decided immediately that she liked it. Conversations fell into a hush as the train crested a small rise, revealing an irregular coast bordering an endless bluish-green expanse of water. A large town clustered atop what appeared to be a bluff or cliff, surrounded by grasslands and farms. Evening was falling, and the stark shadows lengthening across the landscape made the entirety of the town appear vivid and unreal, like a skilled painting.

As the train drew closer to their destination, Pinkie Pie pointed out her window. “Hey! There’s a gryphon flying up there!”

“Really?” Dash leaned her head out of her window. “Yeah, there’s a few.”

“Actually, the population of Nova Coltia is gryphon by majority.” Twilight began in a tone her friends recognized all too well.

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes and groaned. “Here we go.”

Twilight didn’t notice. She closed her eyes and held up a hoof as she entered her own full-fledged lecture mode. “Seven hundred and, let’s see. . . twenty-eight years ago Equestria gifted Nova Coltia and its environs to the Soverign of the gryphon nations, one Grand Kieree Rearrk as a refuge from the political infighting at the time and as a peace offering between our nations. The extra land and access to prime fishing areas off the coast helped to stabilize Rearrk’s grip on the throne and prevent a civil war. Which legally means that we’re outside the borders of Equestria, by the way. In return, the gryphon King declared that all gryphons born within the town limits of Nova Coltia be given pony names. Their major exports are fish, hardy northern vegetables, technological advancements and small novelty items. Their major imports are steel and textiles. The bay, located at the base of the cliff beyond was named after Sir Hedge Hoofton, a charter of inlets who spent his early years. . .”

“Twilight!” Rainbow Dash fairly shouted. “When do you inhale?”

Celestia laughed aloud. “Actually, Twilight Sparkle, I gave Rearrk the land for an entirely different reason. But he was genuine and kind, so I figured keeping him on the throne was of tremendous benefit to his subjects.”

The purple unicorn looked as though she’d stumbled a bit. “So. . . what don’t the textbooks know? Why did you give all this land away?”

Celestia’s reply came just as the train began braking, pulling into the train’s final destination. “He was a tinker.”

Twilight nodded as she stood to grab her bags. “You’ve been planning this for a long time, haven’t you Princess? You needed a place where you could hide a transport capable of crossing the ocean.”

Celestia nodded her agreement. “I also needed a place outside the reach of Equestrian law to avoid the questions that might arise. And I needed engineers who would be willing to work on my secret project.” As the train lurched to a complete stop, Celestia grew serious. “Everypony, please gather around. It is of the utmost importance you tell nopony where we intend to go. If certain members of this town, or of any gryphon nation, discover we intend to cross the ocean it could mean very real trouble for all of us. Do you understand?” Seven solemn heads nodded up and down. “Good. The major gryphon religion revolves around what they call the Words of the Ancients; a collection of scrolls written ages ago detailing, among many other things, terrible horrors befalling the world should anyone cross the ocean. Many of the Reformed Tarsonites I’ve met would sooner die than allow anyone to attempt an ocean crossing.”

Applejack looked like she’d stepped in something even she found distasteful. “Well isn’t that a lick o’ horsespittle. Who in their right minds would die for some story on an old scroll?”

Celestia pondered that for a moment. “The stories are both harsh and deliberately terrifying. In retrospect, we may have gotten a bit carried away when Luna and I wrote them.”

Fourteen eyes went from wide to wider. Spike said slowly, “You know, Princess, sometimes you can be kind of scary.”

Celestia sighed, and for a moment her eyes actually looked old. “I know, Spike.”

When the companions saddled their things and stepped onto the train platform, Celestia froze in place. She didn’t outwardly betray any fear or uncertainty, but Twilight instantly knew something was wrong. She began searching through the crowd of disembarking passengers and new patrons, many of them staring back at her or her friends. She saw more gryphons than she’d ever seen before, some with brightly colored feathers, some with mechanical oculars or wing-struts. Twilight’s inner scientist gasped with joy, but was slowly beaten down by her alarm as she forced herself to continue to look around. There were several ponies, a couple of reindeer, a mule near the ticket counter, and. . . There! Walking through the crowd towards us. She spotted a gryphon with grey feathers speckled with white dressed in full armor, an insignia resembling two crossed feathers overlaid atop two crossed talons on its helmet. That looks official.

“Oh, this town looks like fun!” Pinkie Pie had stopped with everyone else, but she continued to bounce in place. “I wonder what they have to eat around here. When can we see the ocean?”

Applejack had a couple of apples leftover from the train ride, and she took one of them out and absently shoved it in Pinkie’s mouth while she waited to see what the Princess would do. Celestia waited with a patient air as the well-armed gryphon made her way through the crowd. When she drew near enough to speak, the dappled gryphon bowed over one foreclaw. “Princess Celestia of Equestria, our monarch bids you welcome to the humble port town of Nova Coltia.” She withdrew a small scroll from a tube slung over her shoulder. “His Majesty, King Aurak Rirton, desires an audience to be held in the potentate suite above town hall, at sundown.” The messenger stood straight, bearing the impression that she would stand forever without even twitching until she received a response, but she did so without making eye-contact.

Celestia offered a genuine smile, but it came a quarter-second later than it should have. “Of course. We would be honored to attend.” Celestia levitated the scroll out of the gryphon’s foreclaws and nodded a polite dismissal. The messenger clacked her beak in acknowledgement and pivoted smartly on one foreclaw, her striped feline-half following her away. Twilight looked up at her mentor with worry in her eyes.

“Soooo, that’s good, right?” Rainbow Dash glanced around the crowd. “Drop by and say ‘hi’ while we’re in town?”

Celestia, without losing her poise, began walking forward. The crowd parted from their way as conversations throughout the train station stopped. “If only things were so simple, Rainbow Dash.” She said quietly over her shoulder. And she refused to say more. She led them through town, nodding cordially to passerby and ignoring the stunned overreactions the populace tended to display. The town was nice enough, with streets lined with stores and the occasional dwelling. Nova Coltia only appeared slightly bigger than Ponyville, but Twilight knew that was only because few gryphon homes would be visible. A couple of the large cloud masses hanging above might house some of them, but the majority of gryphons would have carved their homes into the cliff facing the ocean.

That didn’t surprise Twilight. What did strike her was the strange aura of subtle desperation that hung about the place. It was difficult to point out any one thing, but it could be seen in the cracked shutters on one building, a sagging porch on another. The gryphons and ponies they passed seemed to be in a hurry, or maybe just slightly less friendly than she was used to. She’d learned a little about alternate economic structures in her studies in Canterlot, but it’d never really struck her as tangible before.

They stopped at a bakery, cringing away from the seafood selections, although Rarity tried a seaweed-alfalfa wrap and declared it most palatable. Then Celestia guided them to a park with a beautiful view of the sea, the local docks and the magnificently complex crane used to haul cargo and crew alike up the high cliff face. Twilight studied its intricate workings with a distracted eye. Aside from the occasional gryphon or pegasus pony soaring above, they were left alone. “Princess,” Twilight asked, “What’s going on? Why is the King so far from his capitol?”

The half-set sun cast a shadow over Celestia’s expression; a look of apprehension and resolve. “This isn’t as bad as it seems.” She said to herself. She sounded doubtful, as though she was trying to convince herself. “A semi-private audience, rather than a public display?” She seemed to be talking mostly herself. “He’s giving us an opportunity. I’d rather not waste it.” She turned to Rarity. “I need you to take everyone over to the Fitting Inn, two blocks south of here and to the right. I need you to get us two rooms, top floor but opposite ends of the hotel. Do you understand?”

Rarity nodded, her bright blue eyes wide and serious. “Of course, your Highness.”

As the ponies and Spike turned to go, Celestia added, “Not you, Twilight Sparkle. I’d like you to come with me.” Twilight gave her mentor a small smile, but her heart wasn’t in it. They angled towards a tall building overlooking the park. It was an imposing structure, with lots of pillars out front and gargoyles crouched along the rooftop. The inside of what must have been Nova Coltia’s town hall matched the outside, with large, heavy doors and vaulted ceilings. It all brought to mind something the Princess had said long ago about the importance of trying to impress foreign powers. Twilight shook her head. Politics. Bleh.

A pair of bronze and cobalt-plated gryphons opened the front doors for them, and several more guards stood at attention in the entrance chamber within. One opened another door, this one slid sideways on a mechanical pulley system of some sort. Twilight’s interest peaked as she wondered how it worked, and she failed to notice that she’d followed Celestia into a box. As the door closed behind them, she looked up to Celestia questioningly just before the floor leapt up under her hooves. Twilight squeaked and splayed her legs for balance as the elevator sped them to the top floor. Celestia cracked a tiny smile.

When the elevator stopped and the door opened again, Twilight remembered all at once that she was supposed to look dignified. She was here representing her country, after all. She hurriedly adjusted the Element atop her head and checked to make sure her mane fell properly as she followed Celestia out into a hallway. Through another pair of guards and another pair of double doors the pair entered an elaborate study. Scroll-lined shelved graced two of the walls in a room paneled in some rich, dark wood. Various gadgets and inventions lined the third wall, some of them in display cases and others looking well-used. Twilight found it terribly difficult to pry her eyes off of the science and focus upon the royalty.

A gryphon rose from behind a desk covered with parchment, old enough to look like a natural leader but still young enough to appear strong and formidable. His ebony feathers contrasted with the forest green of the light cloak he wore over his shoulders, fastened with a clasp that might have cost a small fortune. As he rose, he nodded his head towards the Princess, and she nodded back. A bodyguard and what looked like a pair of advisors all bowed low, so Twilight followed suit, bowing towards their king. His voice, while rich and deep also sounded worn. “Princess Celestia, it’s been too long. Welcome to Nova Coltia.”

When Rarity led the six of them through the front door of the Inn, she gasped in horror. The main room was a poorly kept tavern with walls of worn wood paneling and cheap, threadbare carpeting near the entrance. The stools and benches scattered haphazardly throughout the dim, hazy bar area were both rickety and in terrible taste, much like the clientele.

“My goodness!” Rarity exclaimed, scandalized. She had clearly been expecting something more along the lines of their previous lodgings. “When was the last time this place bought new lampshades?”

Every eye in the place turned to stare, most of them glaring down beaks at the newcomers. None of them looked particularly friendly. Fluttershy squeaked and hid behind Rainbow Dash’s tail. Dash shrugged and said, “It doesn’t seem that bad. But hey, do you think we should find another place?”

“No!” Rarity and Applejack said in unison. Applejack continued, “Celestia named this here place in specific. I reckon it’s for a powerful good reason.”

Rarity sighed and closed her eyes. “Applejack, dear, please pay attention to your participles. They’re all over the place.”

“They are?” Applejack immediately began checking her packs, making sure things weren’t falling out.

“Well I think this place looks swell!” Pinkie Pie said a little too loudly. She bounced over to the bartender, a grim-looking gryphon glaring over a row of crude mugs. “Hi! We need two rooms, I think! What’s your name?”

Rarity gently shoved Pinkie Pie out of the way (‘Waugh!’ Pinkie fell to the floor). “Pardon us, sir, but we do require a pair of rooms on the top floor. You are the proprietor, yes?”

The bartender nodded, and then plucked a fish up from behind the counter and swallowed it whole. Rainbow Dash made a very rude noise clarifying what she thought of fish as a food source, but Rarity managed to limit herself to a single eye twitch. The bartender licked his beak and spoke. “Sure, we can. That’ll be. . .” He eyed their golden necklaces inset with jewels. “100 bits.”

“What?!?” Rainbow Dash exclaimed.

“Hi! How ya’ doin’?” Pinkie Pie approached a corner table where five scruffy and salty-looking individuals hunched and scowled into their drinks.

“Each.” The bartender smiled, and it was only sort-of friendly.

Rarity glared at the gryphon, who easily stood a head taller than she. Then she glanced around the main room again and sighed. “Agreed.” She said, “On two conditions. One, the rooms must be far apart. One of us snores.”

“Hey!” Spike sounded offended.

“And two,” Rarity leaned forward and whispered intensely. “Buy some new lampshades for this place. Maybe something in a soft green. You’re by the sea, for hoof’s sake! Make a bit of an effort to impress, and maybe your business will pick up, hmmm?”

The gryphon’s expression melted from cunning to surprised before he glanced around his establishment with what might have been construed as a guilty look. Rarity spoke over her shoulder. “Applejack, Rainbow Dash? Would you two mind taking Spike and Fluttershy up to get us settled in?” Rarity glanced across the tavern and sighed heavily. “I’m going to go save Pinkie Pie from herself.” The pink pony had already wedged herself into the booth next to one of the looming gryphons, and she was talking animatedly.

“King Rirton, you are looking well.”

“Gracious as always.” He tactfully evaded a comment about Celestia’s somewhat travelled look. “But sojourning beyond your borders without proper escort? Is that quite safe in these troubled times, Celestia?”

Princess Celestia glanced down at Twilight, who met her gaze. “I am as safe as may be, Rirton.”

“Ah yes,” The gryphon emerged from behind his desk and approached the pair. “The Element of Magic. I suppose you are ‘as safe as may be.’” From up close, Twilight could make out the elegantly crossed feathers making up the clasp on his cloak. They were cleverly studded with jewels to make them shimmer with reflected light. He looked down his beak at her, but his smile was warm. “I must admit, the tales concerning your student implied she might be. . . taller.” Twilight lifted an eyebrow in confusion.

“Is that so?” Celestia’s smile grew wider. “Well, I do apologize for the lack of notice, Rirton. I simply had no wish to bother you with trivial matters. This visit will be short lived.”

“Is that so?” He asked with a little more force than necessary as he turned back toward his work. “Rumor has it that Equestria has had a spot of trouble recently. Something about changelings?”

“Rumor would be correct in this instance. However, Chrysalis and her armies were summarily routed.” Celestia confirmed.

“Yes, the reports were quite clear on that point. So, you feel your kingdom is ‘as safe as may be,’ correct?” The King scratched his beak in a gesture that looked subtly doubtful.

Celestia smiled. “I have left very capable hooves in my place. I assure you, I’m quite comfortable attending to other matters.”

The gryphon’s brown eyes widened, and he nodded. Twilight suddenly realized that, although Chrysalis had cast Celestia down in front of every guest at her brother’s wedding, there was almost no one around when Chrysalis was defeated. It was only her and her friends and her brother, Spike, Celestia, and Cadance. And while they had re-told the story to a few of their friends in Ponyville, Twilight was willing to bet every book in her library that most ponies just assumed that Celestia and Luna had taken out the changelings. And here Celestia was, letting a foreign ruler assume exactly that. It was downright dishonest.

While Twilight fumed to herself, Rirton continued. “Well, that’s a relief. You know that, should international issues of such a scale arise, our treaties will hold. We would gladly offer Equestria our military support.”

“Let’s both hope it doesn’t come to that.”

The King nodded his assent. Then he sighed deeply, glancing towards the settling gloom of night. “Of course,” He began reluctantly, “There are other rumors floating about. Rumors of an airship capable of crossing the ocean entire.” His tone clearly implied that such a thing would be awful if it were true. “Rumors that someone clearly intends to commit blasphemy of the most direct and troubling nature.” He turned a very direct stare upon Celestia. “I wonder if there is any truth to these rumors as well.”

Celestia didn’t waver. Not in the slightest. “I wouldn’t believe every rumor I heard, Rirton.” Twilight tried very, very hard not to twitch. The Princess smiled. “It’s simply a routine visit. I must ensure none of Equestria’s holdings have been. . . compromised. You understand, don’t you?

The king of the gryphons nodded, focusing on a point on the well-polished floor. “Of course. Well, that is a relief.” He turned and paced over to the window, looking out over the street below. “I do apologize for requesting an audience before you’ve had time to recuperate from your travels, but my subjects required answer to these. . . apparently ephemeral rumors. I hope you understand.”

“I understand perfectly.”

“Good. Shall I have accommodations prepared for you and your retainer?”

Celestia smiled. “That won’t be necessary, but thank you for the offer.”

The gryphon glanced towards them from the window and paused for a beat, giving Celestia time to elaborate. When she didn’t, he conceded with a subtle nod. “Again, thank you for allaying my hesitations. Please, enjoy your stay here in Nova Coltia.”

“I shall.” Celestia turned to leave. “Twilight?”

Twilight bowed once again to the King of the gryphons, who nodded in return. Then she hurried after the Princess.

As night truly fell, and Luna’s moon peeked over the horizon, the worn fishing town acquired a peaceful charm. The entire town seemed to have retired to their beds as night fell. Twilight vaguely wondered how normal that was for a coastal fishing town, and whether their presence had anything to do with it. If rumors of Celestia’s intent had reached the townsfolk, then that could be a very real possibility. Celestia and Twilight walked north together in silence. Twilight studied the sidewalk in front of her. After a few blocks, the Princess stopped mid-stride along an empty stretch of street. A few steps later, Twilight stopped and looked back.

Celestia’s voice was quiet and soft with concern. “Twilight, what’s wrong?”

The purple unicorn broke eye contact to keep herself from glowering at her sovereign. She said nothing for a few moments, hoping that Celestia would drop it and keep moving. When she didn’t, Twilight took a deep breath. “Thank you.” She said.

Celestia’s brow furrowed. “What for?”

Twilight kept her gaze firmly averted. “That’s what I should say, right? I mean, I asked you a simple question about your age, and now look where we are. You’ve given me plenty of answers, and I guess I should be grateful instead of pushing for more.” She didn’t sound particularly grateful.

“I’ve told you as much as I can Twilight.”

Twilight’s gaze snapped up and her voice dropped to a whisper. “Then why won’t you explain what the changelings want the Elements for?”

Celestia recoiled from the question. She clearly hadn’t been expecting it. “I told you, I can’t be certain.” A faint edge of annoyance had crept into the Princess’s voice.

“But you have a pretty good idea, don’t you?” Twilight’s confrontational stance had lost steam. She sounded more sullen than angry, even to herself. When Celestia didn’t respond, Twilight nodded to herself. “I don’t blame you. I’ve spent hours just trying to imagine what it must be like to live forever. Our lives must seem so short to you, I’m kind of amazed you bother explaining anything to us mortals at all.”

“Twilight Sparkle!” Celestia didn’t raise the volume of her voice, but it was as angry as Twilight had ever heard it.

Twilight held up a hoof in self-defense. “I’m sorry, maybe I didn’t say that quite right. I just. . . I know I wouldn’t explain everything to me. . . I just don’t get why you lied to another leader. . .”

“That’s enough!” Again, Celestia’s voice was pitched low despite its sharpness. “We will speak of this later.” Celestia marched forward at a brisk pace, and Twilight hurried to catch up. Why do I have to pick a fight with Celestia about this? She thought frantically to herself. Why can’t I just let her have her secrets and trust her? Everypony else seems to have no problem doing it! Why can’t I? Because She answered herself, If a pony has nothing to hide they shouldn’t ever need to lie. Also, if I’m being honest, I’d really hoped that she could trust me, if nopony else. But then a darker thought occurred to her. Maybe Celestia knows about my violent thoughts. Maybe she doesn’t trust me, and she actually has good reason. A chill that had nothing to do with the temperature ran down Twilight’s back.

Twilight had noticed that they had been walking the wrong direction since they left town hall, and Celestia’s silence on the topic of royal dishonesty confirmed her suspicions. The Princess was worried that they were being followed or tracked somehow. So Twilight wasn’t surprised to see Celestia’s horn glow faintly as they approached a nice hotel in an upscale section of town. When Celestia put out a hoof to stop Twilight in her tracks, she complied without hesitation or confusion. What made her eyes widen in astonishment was seeing the pair of them continue walking down the street. The entirely convincing illusion Celestia turned and said something to the illusion Twilight before they seemingly opened the hotel door and walked in. So, Twilight thought to herself as she allowed Celestia to slowly guide her into the mouth of an alley. That’s what I look like from behind.

At the same time the real Celestia had vanished from sight. Twilight could only tell where she was because she felt her hoof on her chest. They spent maybe a full minute standing next to the mouth of an alley just keeping still and breathing slowly before a pair of gryphons walked by, their talons clicking on the ground with each stride. Twilight tracked them with her eyes. They passed by without even glancing in their direction. We must be under a veil. Twilight thought with a fair amount of admiration. The gryphons wore no armor or adornments, but when they reached the entrance to the hotel, one ducked inside while the other took to the wing, quickly flapping out of sight.

Twilight allowed herself a small sigh of relief. They’d thrown off the King’s informants, now they just had to make their way back to the place where Celestia had sent everyone else. With a whispered word, Celestia led Twilight deeper into the alley. Twilight felt as though she’d had the breath knocked out of her. The amount of precision and mental control needed to perform two veils and a detailed illusion at the same time was awe-inspiring. And her veils were nearly flawless. There was only a faint smudging of the air in front of her to let her know she wasn’t walking alone. Glancing down, Twilight found she couldn’t see herself at all. Perhaps only a student of advanced magics could truly appreciate the complexity involved. Had Twilight been pressed for an earth pony analogy, she might have likened such an exercise to balancing on one hoof on the edge of a hay cart as it bounced down a dirt path. While reciting Shakespony ballads in reverse. While trying to hold on to a struggling rabbit. And blinking in a complicated pattern.

When they reached a particularly shadowy stretch, Celestia spoke very quietly. “Twilight Sparkle. We don’t have time for explanations. I need to know right now whether or not you trust me.” Celestia still sounded angry, but her soft voice also sounded strained.

Twilight hesitated, but she assented with a soft “Yes.”

Celestia accepted that answer with a grim sigh. “Okay, I need you to hold these veils while I take us across town. We need to get all of us out of Nova Coltia tonight. Now, if possible.”

“Princess? I really haven’t practiced veils much.” She didn’t add that they’d always seemed dishonest to use around Ponyville. Tricking her friends into thinking she wasn’t there or wasn’t listening in? What would Applejack say? Without seeing anything but the bricks of the building beside her, Twilight could nevertheless feel Celestia’s disapproving glare. She mentally reviewed the turns they’d made. “But, I think I can backtrack us both quickly if you keep us invisible.”

“So be it.” Celestia whispered, “We need to go four blocks back. . .”

“. . . down. . .” Celestia’s whisper died on her lips as the pair silently appeared in the middle of an empty street. Celestia barely had time to smile to herself before they vanished again, this time appearing on a sidewalk outside of the town hall building. Celestia’s smile faded, replaced by concern. “Twilight. . .” She whispered.

“Two blocks south of the park?” Twilight panted softly. “I think I can see it from here. Right.” They disappeared again. When they reappeared, it was next to a dingy and sagging building that almost seemed to be leaning against the building next to it. A rusted metal sign clearly proclaimed it the Fitting Inn.

“We’re here. Now what?” Twilight whispered. Celestia hesitated, and before she could say anything the pair heard a loud squeal, coupled with a cluster of gruff-sounding voices. “That sounded like Pinkie!” Twilight whispered, and she cantered around the building and into the dark alley beside it. Near the end of the alley she thought she saw a pink mane surrounded by hulking shapes. She tried to make as little noise as she could as she charged in. Whatever these monsters wanted with her friend, they couldn’t possibly be prepared for the world of hurt Twilight would put them in if Pinkie Pie had even one lock of mane out of place.

Pinkie Pie’s voice pierced Twilight’s mental preparations. “. . . and then I said, ‘Oatmeal? Are you crazy?’” Several loud voices burst into laughter; four gryphons, a pegasus pony who might have been a mauve color, or some variant thereof, and Rarity. The din muffled the sound of Twilight’s invisible charge and the scrabbling of hooves as she slid to a stop.

Rarity seemed to be truly enjoying herself, which was very strange indeed in a shadowy and filthy back alley. She wiped a tear from her eye and spoke. “Oh Pinkie Pie, that story is a gem! I’m simply shocked I haven’t heard it before.”

The gryphon next to Rarity, with a grimy and bespectacled osprey-looking face and orange and brown wing bars, recovered her composure and said, “That reminds me of my cousin up in Chickoutimi. If he even looks at a table of pastries or a public theatre, it’s followed by some sort of disaster.”

There was another round of laughter, and Twilight rolled her eyes. She walked up next to Pinkie Pie and, with an effort of will, shed the veil Celestia had been holding in place. Pinkie Pie didn’t notice her, nor did she notice everyone else stopping and staring, so Twilight reached out and touched her flank. “Pinkie, we need to. . .”

“WAUGH!!!” Pinkie Pie leapt into the air and fell over on her rear, eliciting another roar of laughter from the group. Even Rarity chuckled. Pinkie Pie giggled. “Oh, it’s you Twilight! You got me good! You’d be a great prankster, did you know that?”

“It’s time to go, isn’t it Twilight?” Rarity, ever diplomatic, completed Twilight’s original thought.

Twilight nodded. Pinkie Pie leapt to her feet. “But I haven’t even introduced you to my new friends! This is Lidrith, Greybeak, Shimmerwing, Salt Hooves, and. . . Aurui? Am I saying that right?”

Each gryphon nodded in turn, until the pegasus came up. His voice was low and scratchy. “It’s Aurruri. You can’t roll your ‘r’s, can you?”

“Nope!” Pinkie Pie responded.

“Wait,” Twilight glanced around, “So, your name is ‘Salt Hooves?’” She pointed towards the gryphon in glassicals.

The gryphon in question rolled her eyes and buried her face in her foreclaw. “It’s a long, long story.”

Rarity smiled at each of them in turn. “Well, it has most certainly been a pleasure getting to know each of you. Do take care of yourselves, will you?”

A general round of nods and murmurs ensued, including Aurruri adding, “Thanks again, Rarity! I’ll be sure to try out that mane brush you gave me.”

“Oh, think nothing of it. I packed two.” Twilight lifted an eyebrow at her. Rarity looked only slightly chagrined.

After another round of goodbyes and promises to visit, the quintet dispersed, walking or winging their way home. Pinkie Pie bounced twice in place and hit Twilight with a very energetic hug. “Oh, I’m so happy to see you! This vacation is so much fun! Hey, where’s PrOOOF!”

Twilight shoved a hoof in her face. “Let’s regroup before we tackle questions, okay? Where is everypony?” She glanced back to the alley entrance, but there was nothing to see.

Rarity turned to a door hidden in the shadows, leading the way. “We got a pair of rooms. Come with me.” Twilight took her hoof back and followed Rarity’s purple tail inside.

Pinkie Pie smacked her lips a couple of times, a distasteful expression on her face. “Why can’t anypony just say ‘shh?’ Honestly? Hey, wait for me!” She cantered after her friends.

The trio made their way up a deserted and poorly-lit rear staircase to the fourth floor. The dingy carpeting led past a number of identical doors to an open balcony in one direction, and curved out of sight in the other, presumably towards other rooms. After glancing at the room numbers, Rarity led them towards the balcony and stopped at the last room, knocking politely on the door.

Rainbow Dash opened it from the other side. She sighed in relief when she saw the three of them. “Good.” She said to Rarity. “I was starting to get worried that you and Pinkie might need rescuing. Oh hey Twilight. Where’s the Princess?” Fluttershy appeared in the doorway and smiled at everyone.

“I’m right here.” Celestia’s voice came from right next to Pinkie Pie.

“WAUGH!!!” Pinkie Pie leapt into the air and fell over on her flank. Again. Rainbow Dash chuckled as Fluttershy’s eyes went very wide. Even Twilight smiled.

Celestia did not appear, but her voice continued. “I’m sorry my friends, but we cannot stay. Please gather anything you’ve unpacked. We are leaving.”

“Oh, okay.” Fluttershy turned back into the room.

Rainbow Dash snorted. “I don’t think she’d say that if she knew how much these rooms cost. . .” She muttered under her breath.

“I take it Applejack and Spike are in the other room?” Celestia asked.

“Yeah, they should be.” Rainbow Dash turned to help Fluttershy gather up their things.

Rarity rattled off the other room number. Celestia continued. “Good. We must leave at once. Please hurry.” Rarity followed the Princess’s voice down the hall as they left.

Pinkie Pie snickered from the floor. “She rules the land from the shadows. . . The Unseen and the Unsmelled. . . She’s an alicorn Princess, or so we’re told. . .”

Rainbow Dash joined in. “Yeah, and nopony ever breaks the law, because she might be standing right behind you!”

Fluttershy appeared with fully packed bags and a very serious expression. “Stop it you two. You need to be more careful with what you say out loud.” She slipped past them and started down the hallway. She flipped her light-pink mane over one shoulder. “Invisilestia might be listening.” Dash and Pinkie Pie glanced at one another, and then they both fell over laughing.

The companions met up in a small room in the opposite corner of the building, where Rarity had found Applejack and Spike. Once everyone was in the room and the door closed behind them, Celestia dropped her veil. “HOLY HAYSTACKS!!!” Applejack shouted as she lunged sideways, tripped over her packs and tumbled to the floor. Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie broke into a fresh bout of laughter.

Twilight stared in wonder. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” She gestured with her horn accusingly.

Celestia allowed herself a small, guilty smile as she picked up Applejack’s hat and hoofed it back to her. Then her face grew serious. “I am sorry for not explaining my plans earlier, but I wasn’t certain how we would proceed until I got the chance to meet with the King.”

Rarity’s eyes fairly shone. “Oh, did you meet with him? What is he like?”

Twilight shrugged. “He seemed really nice. Formidable, but nice.”

“He knows, Twilight Sparkle. That’s why he’s here, in Nova Coltia.” Celestia’s gaze swept the company. “Somehow, the whole town knows, or at least suspects.”

Pinkie Pie had been bouncing on one of the rickety cots, but she stopped, saying, “Hey, I didn’t say a word to anypony about our trip. Pinkie promise!”

Celestia nodded. “I know Pinkie. I’m afraid that a spy must have worked its way into my airship crew. I just hope they’re all unharmed. I don’t want any bloodshed over this.”

Applejack rubbed the grime off the corner of a window and peeked out. “Just so’s we’re clear, you don’t want to spend the night?”

Celestia shook her head no. “We cannot.”

“And thank goodness. . .” Rarity murmured, glaring at the shabby furnishings with distaste. “I mean, just look at these bedspreads. . .”

Rainbow Dash glanced around the room. “For once, I agree with Rarity. But we aren’t just walking out, are we?”

“I have a plan.” Celestia said. “We will gather in the alley below. Twilight, you can provide us with transportation, can’t you?”

Twilight nodded. “A transmutation spell, sure. So long as somepony here has an apple I can work with.”

Applejack popped a couple out of her pack. Celestia continued. “Good, now once we’re in, I’ll need. . .”

“Something’s wrong.” Fluttershy’s voice was barely audible, but it stopped Celestia in her tracks. In the silence that followed, the sound of flapping wings – several sets of them - could clearly be heard.

Celestia gasped. “Impossible.”

Spike peeked out the window Applejack had cleaned off. “Um, you might want to break out the extra tea set, because we’ve got company.”

Pinkie Pie’s ears drooped. “What do we do?”

“Panic?” Fluttershy suggested.

“I think we need a new plan.” Twilight slung her bags over her flank.

Celestia’s eyes unfocused for a few moments. She nodded sharply to herself. “Twilight, if Rainbow Dash and I can draw them off, can you get everypony else out of town?” Rainbow Dash glanced at the Princess with excitement gleaming in her eyes.

Twilight hesitated. “Um, I think so, your Highness.”

Celestia cantered up next to the door. “Rainbow, with me. And do exactly as I say.” Rainbow Dash nodded and zipped over, throwing her back against the door. “We have to buy them some time. Twilight, there’s a dirt road headed south out of town, near the coastline. Follow it for three miles and it will fork. Head towards the ocean. When you come to a set of docks, there’ll be a large island not far from the coast. Meet us there.”

Twilight nodded and turned to the south-facing window, prying it open. A gentile night breeze blew in, tousling her mane. Glancing upwards, Twilight thought she could see distant black shapes high in the night sky, no doubt keeping an eye on the streets below. She suddenly wondered to herself just how badly these gryphons wanted to keep them all from making this trip. Would they hurt us to stop us? Would they kill us? Twilight stepped back from the window. “Okay everypony, gather around me and stay close.” Spike climbed atop Applejack’s back, sitting forward of her packs and holding on to her mane. Applejack, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie and Rarity all clustered around Twilight as she let her eyes track south, beyond the buildings. She picked a distant spot and focused on it just as a polite knock resounded through the room. Everyone startled and glanced at the door.

“Excuse me.” The voice on the other side of the door said. “Room service.” Pinkie Pie’s face lit up with a happy smile, but Celestia gave her a meaningful look and shook her head no. Pinkie Pie’s face fell. Twilight tried to block out everything in the room to focus on her spell. Her horn began to glow faintly.

Another knock, more assertive this time. Celestia caught Rainbow Dash’s eye and nodded towards the door. Rainbow Dash nodded in understanding and cleared her throat. “Just a minute! Getting dressed in here!” Applejack threw Rainbow Dash a look that clearly said Really? Dash just shrugged in response. Long moments dragged by through the thick tension, and still Twilight hadn’t cast her spell. Rarity began lightly tapping a hoof against the floor, glancing from the door to Twilight and back.

A loud crash resonated through the building; the sound of a distant door being smashed open. A moment later the door behind Celestia jumped in its frame. If her shoulder hadn’t been set against it, it probably would have burst open at once. Rainbow Dash set her hooves and leaned against the door with all her strength. The door lurched again.

Twilight didn’t think she could do it. This wasn’t a modest clearing she intended to leap across. This was a solid mile or more. If it was just her, Twilight knew she could make it that distance. Herself and one or two others? Probably. But it’d be a massive strain. But all six of them? Beads of sweat broke out along her brow as the door shook a third time.

“Twilight. . .” Pinkie Pie’s voice was tight with worry.

She could teleport them all down to street level and proceed from there, but they’d be easy to spot from the air. They’d be surrounded before they’d gone two blocks. I have to get this right. Twilight thought.

“Any time now!” Rainbow Dash shouted from the doorway. The doorframe split on the next impact.

Fluttershy squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face against Twilight’s side. Twilight focused on the magic, the glow of her horn scaling from a dull purple into a bright white. With a cry of effort, the light grew to envelop her friends. There was a soft ‘pop,’ and the six of them disappeared.

The door shook with another impact. The doorframe shattered completely and the door opened a fraction, spilling light from the hallway into the room. “Split up!” Celestia gasped, “Distraction!” She dragged rainbow Dash away from the door as it burst off its hinges and crashed against the flat shield Celestia had just erected across the room. As the door rebounded to the floor, it revealed a quartet of armed and armored gryphons.

One of them, clearly the squadron leader, stretched her wing back behind her, which drew one of a pair of large crossbow bolts into a track set above her wing joint and along her back. The bolts were rubber-tipped, made to incapacitate rather than kill. “By order of the King, stand down!” She shouted. “You are to come with us at once!”

Celestia shoved Rainbow Dash towards the open window and hissed “Go!” Dash launched herself clean out of the window without looking back, her wings a blur.

The gryphon’s beak opened a bit in shock, but she smoothly tracked Rainbow Dash’s trajectory and fired, releasing the crossbow bolt with the twitch of a talon. It hit Celestia’s shield and deformed violently, rebounding into a wall with a crash to rival the sound of the door breaking in. The impact shook Celestia deeply. She hadn’t been aware that arcanium bolts had become standard military issue through the gryphon tribes in the last fifteen years.

Celestia’s mane and tail always flowed gently on their own, swaying in their own unseen breeze. However, as the regal alicorn’s features darkened, the unseen wind that blew through her mane began to blow a little faster. “So.” Her voice had darkened along with her expression. “This is Rirton’s idea of hospitality.”

The soldier Celestia faced looked nervous enough that she might throw up at any moment. It was clear that firing upon the subjects of a dangerous foreign power was clearly not how she’d planned to end her day. But like any good soldier, she swallowed her fear along with her personal opinions and followed her orders. “Your Highness, please. If you would just come with us. . .”

Celestia dropped her shield and stood tall, glaring her righteous anger down at the gryphons crowded in the doorway. “To what end? A prison cell?” She looked from one to the next. “And if I refuse?”

Without bringing themselves any closer than they needed to, the four gryphons in the doorway entered the room and fanned out along the wall, making room for four more to crowd forward. With practiced motions, all eight of them cocked their wings back, loading their weapons. Celestia’s ire faded into resignation. She spoke again. “I understand. You are all frightened. Frightened that we mean to cross the great ocean and bring evil down upon all our homes.”

Several startled expressions greeted her. They hadn’t expected to hear her speak so plainly. The spokesgryphon didn’t relax her stance, but she answered. “The ancients spoke of the dangers. Even if we don’t all believe, everygryph knows. We can’t let you damn us all.”

Celestia sighed. “You may not realize it, but we aren’t enemies. I don’t blame any of you. Or even your king.” Her horn began to glow with a soft golden light. “However, that doesn’t mean I will come quietly!” As one, the eight gryphons fired and Celestia sent out a wave of force, tumbling all of her opponents off their feet and back against the wall. The arcanium in the bolts was used specifically because they weren’t easily deflected by magic, but all eight of them whizzed harmlessly through the air, crashing into the walls or shattering windows. Celestia had vanished.

10: Host of Shadows

Rainbow Dash didn’t fling herself out of the hotel window because she’d been told to. Not even the immortal ruler of Equestria had that kind of power. Rainbow Dash had complete confidence in Celestia’s ability to handle a hoofful of gryphons, but that still didn’t explain why she complied without hesitation. In fact, her deep sense of loyalty would have made her hesitate, hoping to kick some feathered tail on Celestia’s behalf. No, Rainbow Dash flung herself out of that hotel window because Princess Celestia had given her a mission, and her blood sang in her veins. Split up! She’d said, Distraction! Oh, she’d be a distraction all right!

Rainbow Dash shot out of the hotel window, banked hard to avoid the building across the street and flew into the night sky, pushing for altitude. The moonlight glinted off of the rooftops, treetops and the vast expanse of ocean unfurling in front of the grinning pegasus. But what kind of distraction did she want? Rainbow Dash thought as she banked around the town. Maybe I should show this place what a sonic rainboom looks like! Rainbow Dash’s face fell, as she realized she probably couldn’t pull off that move while carrying her packs. She grimaced over her shoulder at the bags cinched around her flanks. Why did I even bring this stuff? She thought. All I packed was snacks, a scarf and my Ponystation Portable. Snore.

Then another thought occurred to her. While a sonic rainboom might be singularly spectacularly awesome, it would only be distracting for a little while. If she was going to buy time for Fluttershy and Rarity to cover three miles on hoof, she’d have to think of something else. She frowned at the night sky. She tried to guesstimate how fast Fluttershy could run if she was scared, and whether Rarity would ever move that fast, but she quickly gave up when she ran into mental long division.

Still, things didn’t stay boring for long. A trio of gryphons broke formation and swooped down to intercept her from a higher altitude. As they closed in to flank the rainbow-maned Dash, one of them pitched his voice over the sound of wind and wing strokes. “A curfew is in effect! Please land immediately!”

“Sure thing!” Rainbow Dash nearly laughed the words. Her keen pegasine eyesight had already picked out two other clusters of military patrols sweeping Nova Coltia. A hint of scorn entered her voice. “If you can catch me!” With that she banked upwards, hard.

Had Rainbow Dash glanced backwards as she fled the hotel room, she might have developed a deeper appreciation for the weapons her opponents were equipped with. As it was, only her choice of direction saved her. Most flyers, especially loaded with packs, would trade altitude for speed to evade pursuit. The gryphon flying behind her had cocked both of his shoulder rigs and had fired one bolt in the wrong direction, angling downwards. Dash accelerated upwards, leaving her pursuers behind.

Rainbow Dash spiraled into some corkscrews as she banked towards the second patrol she’d spotted. “A distraction, huh?” Dash grinned fiercely to herself. “You got it, Princess.” She picked up a bit more speed, closing in on the second trio of gryphons from behind. They hadn’t even noticed her yet. With a shout and a laugh, Rainbow dashed right through the middle of their formation, scattering them with her wind stream. She looped effortlessly upward and began winging her way back the way she came. The first squadron was flapping hard to catch up, and the second was still trying to pull back into formation. The third cluster she’d spotted had changed course and angled back towards the commotion she’d caused. She laughed out loud again. She was barely trying!

She banked toward the third squadron, hoping to pull off a couple more tricks and really give them a show. Rainbow Dash’s grin vanished though, as she heard a deep thrum accompanied by a high-pitched whistle the same moment a dark projectile shot past her from behind, barely missing her ear. Her eyes widened in shock, “What the. . .?!?” She blurted out loud.

Rainbow Dash glanced backwards, pulling into some instinctive evasive maneuvers. Her hooves suddenly felt very cold, and her heartbeat thumped double-time in her ears. Were they trying to kill her for not grounding herself? Would they kill her for that? As the adrenaline hit her bloodstream Dash’s fear found itself thoroughly drowned in a sea of righteous anger. If they were willing to hurt her, what in Equestria would they do to her friends? Rainbow Dash snarled as she sped into a swaying helix; something she and Gilda had invented back in Junior-Speedster Flight camp. She followed with an Immelpony, using it to angle herself away from all nine of her attackers. Another pair of shots flew harmlessly past. Missed by a mile.

The hotel room disappeared in a flash of purple light, replaced by fresh air and open sky. Twilight’s knees buckled and a stretch of pavement hit her hard on the chin. Her lip curled up in a silent snarl. Get up. She dragged her hooves back underneath herself. You’re supposed to be better than this. Now get UP! Spike’s voice came from nearby, but it sounded like it echoed down to Twilight through a long metal tube. “Twilight, are you okay?”

She forced herself to her hooves and blinked her eyes open. “Is everypony here?”

“Yup!” Chirruped Pinkie Pie from somewhere behind her.

“Oh, thank Celestia.” The spell had been so taxing, Twilight had been sure she’d lost someone. But she hadn’t managed to get them quite as far as she’d needed to.

“We ain’t in the woods yet.” Applejack adjusted her hat. “Let’s move, everypony! Best hold on tight there, Spike.”

“Aye aye, AJ!” Spike leaned forward along Applejack’s back, twining his claws in her mane.

The five of them broke into a canter following a paved road south away from the town. Twilight had teleported them past any buildings, but they were still a long hay field away from the first trees. Twilight struggled to keep up, but she didn’t need to glance behind her the way Fluttershy kept doing. She knew that the bright moonlight made them all stand out against the road beneath them. It would only be a matter of time before they were spotted. She stretched her canter into a gallop, breathing in deep, ragged gasps.

She needn’t have bothered. Well before they reached the trees, dark shapes flew down out of the sky, landing heavily on the path ahead. As the companions pulled up short, more gryphons landed behind them and to the side of the road around them. Twilight glanced backwards at the town, and thought she saw a rainbow of color flash between two buildings. She shook her head. She couldn’t stall for rescue, not this time. She had to get them all out of here herself. Somehow.

Celestia emerged from her teleport at full gallop, mentally preparing her next jump before all four hooves had hit the ground. Things had gotten out of hoof yet again. If she could just signal Aether’s Vigil to pick them up by the docks, they could easily throw off pursuit. But something brushed against her senses, something bitter and acrid and nearby. She pulled up short, digging shallow furrows in the dirt with her hoof-shods as she studied the path ahead. She knew there was no need to call out a challenge, not with the entrance she’d just made. A few tense moments drifted by before a smaller shadow detached itself from the host of larger shadows beneath the surrounding trees and stepped to the middle of the path twenty or so paces ahead. Despite the distance and the darkness, she recognized him.

“Cinder!” She called out into the night. “I have spared you and I have spared your hive! I would think, given the circumstances, this artifact would be a small price to pay.” They both knew what she referred to.

He walked closer, his orange eyes catching the light from the moon as he passed out of the shadows. “The Element is mine. It belongs to me.” His voice sounded strained.

Celestia pushed her awareness away from the path, searching for other changelings closing this trap in. Yet, where she expected an army, she discovered nothing. He was alone. That made several things clear to the Princess. The challenge left her voice as she spoke, “Chrysalis never knew about the Element of Deception, did she? You managed to hide a dangerous power from your own queen. Amazing. . . How did you even find it?”

He hadn’t slowed his advance. “It doesn’t matter.” Up close, he looked drawn and pale, not at all healthy. Celestia wondered if he was suffering from some sort of withdrawal. She filled with pity despite herself.

“You can’t defeat me on your own, Cinder. Go back to your hive.” Celestia stepped back a pace from the approaching changeling to brace herself against a charge. She twisted her neck, leveling her horn to aim it at his throat. “It doesn’t have to end this way.”

Rainbow Dash leveled out and flew straight for a breath, presenting an excellent target. One. . . Two! and she cupped her wings and cut downward hard, feeling more than seeing or hearing the shots whizzing through the space she’d been. Just before she dove between the buildings she risked another backwards glance. All nine gryphons struggled to keep up, but keep up they did. Good. Rainbow Dash thought. Gotta keep them occupied. Once she broke line of sight she leveled out, skimming the street. She spotted a pair of gryphons walking down the sidewalk ahead of her, so she strafed them both, knocking one’s hat clean off. They both took to the sky after her.

Flying fast is as much about speed as drag racing is about pushing down a pedal. There’s so much more to it than that. And Rainbow Dash had spent most of her young life obsessing over the fine details of momentum, banking, braking, wing-position, trajectories, drafts and wind streams. She turned at an intersection like a jackrabbit, angling sharply between a lamppost and a hardware store before picking up more speed down the straightaway. She spotted more nighttime strollers, and Dash called out something that was half-greeting and half-taunt as she whooshed past.

Rainbow made quite the distraction winging her way from street to street, banging off of shuttered windows and shouting at the top of her lungs. She hadn’t been told just who to distract, so she simply went all-out. By the time she pulled up over the rooftops once again, she found she’d done her job better than she’d hoped. She gasped. The sky above Nova Coltia was speckled with flying shapes, the nearest of which were only houses away. There must have been fifty of them, maybe more, and they were closing in.

One gryphon walked towards them from behind. Twilight recognized him immediately. “I deeply regret that I must place you all under arrest.” King Rirton’s voice had a natural ring of authority to it. He was used to having his orders followed. “Please accompany me back into town.”

Twilight placed herself between him and her friends. “Why, Your Majesty?”

Rirton hesitated before he spoke. “I believe you can tell me, young Twilight Sparkle. Please, tell us all. Speak aloud what your Princess intends that the night itself might hear your words!”

Twilight licked her lips nervously and drew in a breath. “We intend to see what has become of the lands across the ocean.”

The King nearly shouted, “In direct violation of everything my subjects and I hold faith in!” Scandalized murmurs surrounded the group. Rirton composed himself. “Twilight, I know you are bright. I have heard grand compliments concerning your abilities. But it wasn’t until I met you up close that I felt you might genuinely be the decent soul I’d heard you were. Please understand, we cannot let you do this.”

Twilight took another step closer and gathered her courage. She thought she had a card to play here, and she took her best shot. “Yes, your Majesty. I think I do understand. Your ancient teachings tell you we mustn’t be allowed to cross the ocean, and you must obey them. But, your Majesty, you seem to me like a rational thinker. Do you really believe your ancient scrolls are fact?”

King Rirton glanced at his subjects. “Of course I do.”

“He’s lyin’.” Applejack said without hesitation.

“Applejack!” Rarity sounded quite taken aback. Fluttershy covered her face.

The King’s eyes widened in anger and his ear tufts flattened to his head. “How dare you impugn my faith, when your own mighty ruler crossed my border and lied to my face?!?” Rirton took two angry steps around Twilight to point a talon at the wheat-maned earth pony. The guards closed their circle in, looming over the cluster of ponies. “How dare you?!” he shouted again.

“I don’t know why she lied to you!” Twilight raised her voice, trying desperately to be heard. “But I’m sorry!” Twilight continued talking into the stunned silence. “We are all sorry. None of us would have backed Celestia up if we knew ahead of time she would be dishonest with you. Especially Applejack.”

Applejack chuckled sheepishly and spoke. “Yeah, I wouldn’ta stood for it. But uh, Dash mighta.” Rarity elbowed her in the flank, and she hastily added, “Um, yer Majesty.”

Twilight continued. “I never would have dreamed that Celestia had ever lied in her life. But lately I’ve been finding out that she’s not exactly the Princess I thought she was. She hasn’t even told us everything, and we’re risking our lives for her.” Twilight couldn’t keep a small waver of pain out of her voice. “I swear to you. I would have told you the truth.”

The King of gryphons drew a couple of deep breaths through his nares. His ear tufts un-flattened a bit and he nodded. “I’m not sure why, but I believe you. However, that doesn’t change. . .”

He was interrupted by a shrill, panicky voice. “Um, something’s happening.” Pinkie Pie sounded very worried, and her knees were twitching. “Something dangerous and yucky somewhere in the forest. Mostly yucky.” She sucked in a breath and yanked her right foreleg off the ground. “Nope, mostly dangerous. Twilight, I think something scary is coming.”

Cinder pounced forward, nodding his head sharply. As the point of his horn swept towards Celestia’s eye, she twitched her head to the side, deflecting his sweep with her own horn. As he over extended, Celestia jerked her head to the side, opening up a cut along Cinder’s cheek. She took a light step back from his return swing and he caught nothing but her mane. His eyes radiated ferocity, but no fear. His horn began to glow, gathering power into a bolt he hurled at Celestia from point blank range. It missed as she teleported to the side and swatted him to the ground with her own magic.

“Cinder, I’m warning you! I do not have time for this!” He gathered more energy and feinted an attack. When Celestia leapt nimbly to the side he adjusted his aim, forcing her to meet the blast head-on. The green magic broke and dispersed on her shield, obscuring his charge. He attacked again, and Celestia dodged a pair of hoof-strikes before catching his horn on hers. Celestia winced in pain as the impact jarred her head and neck, but she held him off. She grit her teeth. He was still very strong, at least physically, so Celestia decided to take that advantage away. She infused her own muscles with the force of her magic and flung him into the air. The changeling commander arced horn-over-tail, spread his wings in a futile attempt to break his fall and sprawled in the dirt a couple of pony-lengths away. Before he could rise, Celestia slammed her will onto him, pushing him to the ground.

“This is your last chance, changeling. I don’t want to kill you.” Celestia scarcely looked winded.

Cinder’s limbs convulsed, and then they slowly curled up beneath him. With a snarl, he lifted his head up, pushing against the weight of Celestia’s spell. Then he placed one hoof underneath himself, and then a second, slowly trying to force himself to his hooves. Celestia’s expression fell from anger into shock, before slowly melting into regret. She sighed, but she didn’t hesitate. With a toss of her head she flicked Cinder into the air, and she followed immediately with a searing ball of magic, designed to kill. The light burst over Cinder’s form, the heat chasing the deafening detonation as it washed back over the Princess and the surrounding landscape. Disorienting an opponent before the killing stroke was an old and sadly effective tactic. Her heart feeling heavy, Celestia turned her attention back to reaching her island. She needed to get her crew out of Nova Coltia as quickly as possible.

Rainbow Dash snapped into a couple of turns, evading another shot from her pursuers, but she found herself angling upwards towards a gryphon in a steep dive, its talons outstretched. Dash flapped hard once and clamped one wing in to her side, rolling her light body above her attacker’s reach. As she shot past, she stomped one hoof down on the gryphon’s back eliciting a squawk of surprise and pain.

Rainbow Dash flapped madly, straining for altitude while swaying and dodging. But she was surrounded, and there was no clear escape. Even as she managed to climb to dizzying heights, there were still menacing shapes above and below her, closing in. She’d done her job too well and left herself out of options. In desperation she tried to recall what Celestia had said about magic. To Dash’s complete surprise, she found she could feel the power inside herself, just like the Princess said. She shouldn’t have been surprised; it was only when flying hard that Dash ever truly felt alive. Quickly, she pictured a bubble in her mind and forced the energy outside of herself. With what Dash felt was an entirely unfair amount of strain, a translucent red bubble formed around the pegasus. Her eyes widened in utter amazement and joy. She’d done it! She’d used magic! She couldn’t wait to show Twilight.

Rainbow Dash’s elation lasted only moments before her shield shattered like glass, and what felt like a bus hit her in her right flank. She spun out of control and blacked out.

The King glanced from Pinkie to the quiet forest, and then back to Twilight. “Does this have to do with the Element of Laughter?”

Twilight shook her head. “Nope, it’s just Pinkie Pie.”

A deep rumble shook the ground, and somewhere in the woods a tree fell. Pinkie gasped. “Twilight, it’s the Princess! She’s in danger!” She leapt straight into the air in panic. “We have to help her!” She tried to shoulder her way past the guards, but they blocked her path.

Twilight’s voice was laced with dread. “Please let us go, your Majesty. Pinkie’s never wrong.” He hesitated, clacking his beak in frustration. She continued. “At least come with us. If there’s danger, we might need your help anyhow.”

The King nodded to himself. “Aubri, Lightcrest, let her through. The rest of you, fan out and follow. Let’s move! Don’t let them get too far ahead.”

“Thank you, your Majesty.” Twilight turned and leapt into a gallop behind her friends, and the gryphon guards kept pace running on all fours, close enough to keep the companions from slipping away. The pavement ended abruptly, becoming a compressed dirt road only slightly less comfortable to run on. The forest began rather suddenly, with tall pines springing up all around them. They made good time until a dark beam of magic arced into the night sky above them from somewhere ahead. Twilight felt the discharge of power like dry desolation across her face. The power involved must have been massive. “Oh no. . .”

“Twilight?” Fluttershy’s voice shook as she kept pace next to her friend. “What was that?”

“Bad.” Twilight swallowed hard. “Very bad.”

From behind them, Rirton mumbled gruffly. “If you have placed my citizens in danger Celestia, you will answer to me.”

Light burst somewhere in the sky far above the tree canopy. Everyone skidded to a stop except Pinkie Pie, who tripped over her hooves and landed on her face. No one saw though; all eyes were staring up through the branches of the tall trees, trying to see what was happening. The night grew darker somehow, and Twilight noticed her vision narrowing as darkness seemed to sap her peripheral vision. She went through her mental encyclopedia of spells and couldn’t remember learning about anything like this. A bright light burst into life, a shining cynosure of hope that dispelled the darkness, and Twilight silently cheered.

As she watched breathlessly, an impossible screech of pain clawed at her ears, resonating from somewhere up above. As she clamped her hooves over her ears, something horrible happened. Everything in the world seemed to shift to the side, only not all at once. Everyone around her, gryphon and pony alike, collapsed to the dirt. She wasn’t certain that it hurt exactly, but the sensation was excruciatingly unbearable. Although Twilight’s heart still beat in her chest, she felt convinced that each one would be her last. She was vaguely aware that her legs were twitching. She heard Fluttershy nearby, and it sounded like she was crying.

Celestia blinked. The force of her magic had dispersed revealing a dark figure, entwined and crawling with living shadows hanging in the air, wings spread. It radiated cold, and the deep blacks of its eyes tugged at Celestia, making her feel off-balance; like she might topple towards this creature at any moment. What hovered before her was not Cinder. It looked like him. It had the changeling’s form from crest to tail, but something else inhabited his body now. You foolish little changeling. What have you done? Celestia thought. The twining shadows writhed slowly, like maggots, across wings and legs and torso alike. And when they came together they almost seemed to form runes or sigils, the meaning of which just barely eluded discernment. For the first time in a very, very long time, Princess Celestia felt terrified. This thing was clearly older than any changeling. She slid into a combat stance and began to glow with a soft white light.

The avatar of darkness hovering before her blinked slowly, as though studying her. Its expression was both alien and unsettling. It smiled fondly, and then blurred towards her, horn lowered, and even though she’d already mentally prepared the spell, Celestia almost didn’t teleport backwards in time. The ground shook as dirt and rocks exploded outward from the impact, forcing Celestia to shield herself from the debris when she appeared. The creature walked calmly out of the crater it had made, and in the silence that followed, a tree somewhere nearby toppled and fell.

“Who are you?” Celestia’s voice trembled, just a little. “What are you. . .?” The creature smiled again in response, and wordlessly began gathering more energy for an attack. Celestia took to the sky, drawing the creature’s aim away from the town behind her as her form burst forth an aura of bright yellow sunlight. Before she cleared the treetops a coruscating beam of darkness hit her like an oversized train. Celestia managed to deflect the worst of it, but she felt the tips of her wings singe. On a whim, she let herself go limp and fell towards the ground as though she’d been mortally wounded. As she fell, she glimpsed her opponent rushing towards her, propelled by magic rather than wings or hooves. Celestia hit him with a disorienting burst of light as she teleported herself as high into the air as she could manage just before she would’ve hit the ground. She threw a veil over herself as quickly as she could, then started scanning the landscape below.

She was higher up than she’d expected. Celestia could see the lights of Nova Coltia far below her. The ocean stretched away to her left, the rugged coastline before her unfurling into forest aglow with moonlight. She could even see her island; close enough to reach in a single jump, if she could just focus. No. She thought. Not until I’ve dealt with this monster. Her heart hammered in her chest. She tightened her veil around herself. Where is it? It should be right below. . . Celestia felt a familiar chill run down her spine. She didn’t turn her head the slightest fraction, but she knew she’d been outplayed. It was just sportingly waiting for her to catch on. Celestia turned in midair to see. . . nothing. Nothing except a faint smudge across the otherwise untrammeled stars adorning the sky.

Celestia swallowed hard and, gripping her courage, dropped her veil. When her opponent did the same, she gasped. He was close enough for their horns to touch. On reflex, thinking only of placing more distance between herself and this unknown attacker, Celestia gathered more energy and flung it forward blindly, using the detonation to shove herself backwards. It charged through her blast, keeping pace, but only for a moment. It gathered more darkness and lashed out, but its bolt rebounded as if off a mirror, forcing it to duck away from its own attack. The shadowed thing grinned fiercely.

Darkness gathered across the night. It seemed to coalesce out of nowhere, blotting out the stars and the nearly full moon above. The host of shadows swept its horn through an arc, and Celestia found herself hauled physically towards the ground below her, as though gravity had doubled its force on her. And darkness seemed to fill her existence, crowding close and leeching the warmth out of the very air. It had been literal ages since she’d felt this kind of power. In a panic, Celestia threw caution to the winds and drew upon the full force of her gifts. Her shield exploded outward in a blinding shower of sparks, and she burst into light enough to make the sun itself jealous. The darkness reaching for her was repelled, seared away in her light. And as she fell, Celestia focused that light on her attacker, forcing the beam through sheer will to concentrate on her enemy, continuous and lethal. Celestia felt its defenses crack. Finally. She panted to herself. She poured even more energy into her spell.

A concussion wave of blackness rocked the night followed by an otherworldly screech of pain; a scream that simply could not have emerged from one throat. Reality seemed to ripple outward, like the snapping of a sheet, and Celestia felt her heart stutter and lurch in her chest as it washed over her. Her spell guttered and her concentration slipped as high above her a thousand small, black motes of power erupted into the sky, dark cousins to the stars glinting behind them. As she tried to form a defense against the myriad attacks closing in on her from above, she remembered a fraction of a second too late the ground rushing up to meet her from below. As her shield blazed back to life, she crashed through the tree canopy and hit the ground like a wrecking ball. At the same instant, the magical bolts closed in and blanketed her in a series of explosions so close together they sounded like one continuous roar.

Rainbow Dash came to moments later, still spinning and yawing sickeningly. Her heart had just stuttered in her chest for no reason, and her entire body convulsed in panic, convinced she’d just died or worse. The ground was still far away, but it seemed to be proof that she wasn’t dead yet. She fought her momentum with her thankfully-unbroken wings and stabilized her spinning into a simple steep dive away from the town and towards the pearl and onyx ocean. Her hindquarters hurt terribly, but she fought to ignore it. A glance around showed her something truly strange. Every other flyer she could see was in a similar state, plunging towards the ground in a freefall or fighting their way out of a freefall. It was raining gryphons in Nova Coltia. She wondered for a moment if Celestia had done something princess-y to buy her some time.

Not that it mattered. Dash unstrapped her packs and flung them away, pouring more speed into her dive. This was her chance, and she couldn’t afford to let it slip by. Unhindered by her packs she lurched ahead, gaining even more speed. A faint penumbra of compressed air began to gather around her, a visible cone that dragged against her, trying to leech away her speed and force her to obey the laws of physics. The harder one pushes against the sound barrier, the harder it pushes back. ‘Can’t’ is still the word used in most textbooks concerning flyers attempting to exceed the speed of sound. Rainbow Dash has never in her life taken the word ‘can’t’ seriously.

Tears streamed out of her eyes and her face stretched backwards in a grimace from the force. She was running out of room, so she leveled out and turned upward, straining for more speed. She could barely feel her wings anymore, and the breath was ripped from her lungs before she could properly breathe it. The cone around her elongated, pulling hard against her whole body. Spots danced before her eyes. Hints of color, like tiny, half-seen bolts of electricity flashed through her wind stream.

What Rainbow Dash didn’t know about magic could fill a book. Several books, in fact. When she finally pushed through that barrier the resulting detonation ripped at the fabric of the magical world, shedding colorful light in an expanding ring through the sky. She also shot forward as the resistance disappeared, reaching speeds no flyer had ever matched through all of known history. The sheer speed was breathtaking, and Dash’s heart leapt with elation. Remembering Celestia’s words she angled south, aiming for a large and conspicuous island she’d spotted, leaving a shimmering contrail of rainbow colors behind her. Rainbow Dash allowed herself a small smile. Now that was a distraction! They might all make it out of this alive after all. That was a little too close, though.

Even at her speed, she’d only covered part of the distance to the island when reality seemed to blur, as though everything in the world was suddenly not where it just was. It felt intimately familiar and entirely alien at the same time. In a horrifyingly deep way it made Dash feel small and alone and helpless and scared in a way she could never remember feeling before in her life. She didn’t know it, but she was screaming until she hit the water.

“Hey!” Pinkie Pie’s sounded fairly worried. “What’s wrong? Why did everypony fall down? What did I miss? Fluttershy? What’s the matter?”

Another impact tremor, much louder and longer than the first, shook the ground beneath them, but the sound didn’t scare Twilight. She was already terrified. Pinkie Pie dragged Twilight to her hooves. “Twilight. . . what’s wrong?”

Twilight nodded to herself, swayed a bit in place and said, “We need to find her. Right now.” Her voice sounded a little too high-pitched, threaded with panic. Her friends scrabbled to their hooves as well, as Applejack helped a distraught Fluttershy. Spike clung to Applejack’s mane, his expression distant and unfocused.

“Stop.” Rirton struggled to pull himself up off the path. His wide eyes winced away from every benign shadow, and his wings twitched sporadically, as though he only kept himself from taking flight through sheer force of will. “You. . . You have brought some terrible evil down upon our heads. The prophecies were all true, true and so. . . so much worse. . .”

“We need to. . .” Twilight began.

“You’re all coming back with us.” Rirton interrupted harshly. “You will use your Elements to defend my town against this evil.”

“We need to find Celestia!” Twilight nearly shouted.

“No.” Rirton made a curt gesture, and one of his shaken subordinates cocked a bolt back above her wing, ready to fire at Twilight or her friends.

Twilight’s eyes filled with tears of frustration. “Why won’t you believe us?” She asked half-heartedly, although she already knew the answer. They’d deceived him. Why should he believe anything they said? She wiped at the corner of her eye.

Twilight gasped in shock at another series of crashes, followed by what might have been sharp cracks of lightning. Without thinking, Twilight threw herself forward, running towards the sounds of violence. Rirton pounced upon her, easily driving her to the ground with his greater mass. “Hey!” Pinkie Pie shouted, offended.

Another ripple surged through the world around them, another disjointed shifting in the fabric of time and space. Rirton collapsed atop Twilight as everyone around them hit the dirt. Once again, Twilight felt as though her body wasn’t quite where she’d left it, and her heart stuttered and lurched like a rabbit trying desperately to evade a wolf.

The moment she found her voice Twilight shouted to her friends. “Go! Find the Princess!” Her horn began to glow. “I’ll catch up.”

“Stop them!” King Rirton gasped as Twilight’s friends scrabbled back to their hooves again. The first gryphon to her feet swayed in place, but made it clear she would fire if she had to. Rarity had barely coaxed Fluttershy to stand again; the strange spell seemed to affect her worst of all. Fluttershy shuddered uncontrollably, and tears leaked out of the corners of her clenched eyes.

Twilight’s horn flashed, and a brief cyclone of wind ripped through the branches high above, showering the gryphon guards with pine needles. Quick as blinking Twilight dropped the wind and channeled another spell, one she’d learned last Nightmare Night in Ponyville. Every pine needle exploded into huge white cottony masses of spider web. The decorative kind. All of the gryphon guards instantly found themselves thoroughly mired in festive, pale cocoons.

Pinkie Pie giggled once, halfheartedly, and both Twilight and the King of the gryphons vanished in another flash of purple. The whole altercation took only a pair of seconds. Spike clenched a tiny, clawed fist in victory. “Way to go, Twilight.” He spoke softly as the four ponies turned and cantered away. One of the guards fired after them, but the rubber-tipped bolt didn’t make it two feet, tangled as it was in fake webbing.

Rainbow Dash surfaced, spluttering, somewhere in the ocean. She spit saltwater out of her mouth and glanced around furtively. She kept her breathing steady, her nose and eyes just above the water as she meticulously scanned the whole of the sky and the horizon. Dash was not easily scared, so she rarely had to deal with that emotion face-to-face. But her heart pounded away in her chest and all her limbs shook. Whatever weird spell or whatever that knocked her out of the sky had left her feeling strangely skittish. It didn’t help that she couldn’t feel her right hind leg. Whatever those flea-bitten gryphons shot her with had hit her hard. She was just glad she’d had her packs on when she did. The whole ‘magic shield’ thing was complete garbage.

She absently touched the choker still clasped around her neck, reassuring herself that it was still there. Dash’s assumption that whatever danger there was, it must be somewhere above the waterline was quite the unknown blessing. Had she considered for even a moment that the ocean might contain its own dangers, she would have thoroughly panicked.

Rainbow Dash felt keenly alone. She wondered whether her friends were alright, and whether the Princess might somehow find her out here so far from shore.

As the smoke and dust dispersed a little, the ex-changeling landed on its hooves next to the large swath of forest it’d just demolished. Despite its hide being covered with cracks and blisters, it limped through the smoldering remains of the forest floor until it came across the still form of the alicorn princess. It tilted its head to the side, studying her without fear. She was still alive, her chest rising and falling shallowly. It ignored the scattered and charred remains of the packs she’d been wearing. Instead, it leaned over her and gently, slowly pushed the hair back from her face. It stood there for several moments, just staring wide-eyed. All at once, its brow furrowed and it kicked her in the ribs. Hard. Celestia rolled limply, but she didn’t respond. It kicked her again, and again, and yet again, growing fiercer and more frantic with each blow.

It seemed not to notice a distant cobalt blue form pulling into a steep dive out of the moonlit sky high above. The newcomer spread its wings just enough to level out of the dive and, with beautiful precision, impacted Cinder’s flank with a heavy thud. The scorched avatar of darkness found itself sped out of the clearing, smashed through a number of tree trunks and flung to the ground as the attacker flipped gracefully in the air and landed softly on blue-shod hooves. Moonlight glinted in Princess Luna’s eyes as she glared out from under her starry mane. “Vile corruption. Lay not a hoof ‘pon my sister.” She growled under her breath as the creature of shadows picked itself back up. “Stay, and we shall make thee suffer for thy transgressions.” Her words were lost amidst the sound of falling trees, but her combative stance spoke louder than she did.

The creature, panting heavily, cracked a broad grin. A grin that vanished as a distant concussion, easily heard over the din, caused the ex-changeling to glance towards the town and a bright spectrum of colors expanding in a ring through the sky. Seizing the moment, Luna snarled and her horn burst into soft blue light, telekinetically pulling the nearest toppling tree over towards her opponent. It shielded itself, but did so from the wrong direction and was instantly buried beneath a massive pile of foliage. Luna’s horn grew brighter and her eyes began to glow as lightning bolts hurled from the sky in rapid succession, hammering the fallen tree and setting it ablaze.

There was another scream, and a second black concussion shook the firmament. Luna was ready for it, having been nearly knocked from the sky by the first one. She slowed her breathing and centered herself mentally in the deep bedrock of the ground below her. As the fabric of reality snapped once more like a banner in a gale, Luna remained unmoved. Once it passed, she cried out in challenge and continued her assault with short blasts of magic from her horn.

The burning detritus exploded upward, and the dark figure rose into the air, bleeding and scored. It had lost its crawling aura of shadows, replaced by what appeared to be severe injuries. For the briefest of moments it locked eyes with Princess Luna, and as she stared she felt her concentration falter. In that moment, the scion of darkness retched, and thick, oily blackness poured out of the changeling’s throat, oozed out of the corners of its eyes, dripped out of its nostrils, bled in dark rivulets from gashes in its exoskeleton. When the blackness hit the air, it evaporated, eventually leaving the limp body of a changeling behind. Cinder fell like a discarded foal’s toy into the smoldering pile of branches beneath him, unconscious. Luna took no notice of him. She simply stared, wide-eyed, at the spot where she’d last seen the other creature’s eyes, as though her mind resembled the blasted landscape her surroundings had become. Soon enough though, she shook her head clear and took to the wing, flying as fast as she could to the place where she’d left Celestia.

Luna landed gracelessly next to her sister, kicking up small clouds of ash and smoldering pine branches. The ground beneath was still hot, and Luna briefly debated manipulating a cold-based spell before shaking her head no. Her horn glowed with a gentle light, and Celestia’s unconscious form lifted carefully into the air. A low thrumming noise descended upon the desolate scene, and a massive shadow fell over them. Luna immediately placed herself between her sister and this new threat.

Even though Twilight Sparkle had known what to expect, the cold water assaulted her from all sides and the shock of it nearly caused her to lose the breath she’d been holding. She’d closed her eyes as well, but she could still feel King Rirton clutching her by the shoulder as they reappeared. He immediately pushed away from her and began clawing his way towards the surface. In his panic, his talons raked Twilight’s face. Some of her breath escaped her then through pain and surprise, but she began swimming doggedly upwards, stroking two hooves through the water at a time.

She broke the surface gasping and sputtering, her face afire with pain. The salty water was a blaze of bright agony in her cuts, sapping the strength from her limbs. Twilight swept her mane out of her face and glanced around, blinking her eyes clear.

The ocean about her gleamed silver in the moonlight, a burnished instance of beauty Twilight failed utterly to appreciate in that moment. The shore was over a stone’s throw distant. Her plan had worked, at least as well as she could have expected. But something was wrong. She glanced all around herself, blinking blood out of her left eye as she did so. She didn’t see anyone else. She was alone save for a strange, low thrumming noise. Rirton hadn’t surfaced.

She plunged her face back under the surface, gritting her teeth against a fresh wave of stinging pain and pried her eyes open. She couldn’t see anything. . . just inky blackness in every direction. With an effort of will her horn began to glow, dispelling some of the underwater gloom. It did no good; she still saw nothing. Twilight dropped the spell and surfaced again.

Now the cuts on her face burned and her eyes stung. Her breaths came out more like sobs. Why hadn’t he surfaced? Are gryphons just terrible swimmers? She didn’t remember reading anything on the subject. But another thought caused her a stab of dismay. Or maybe all that gear he was wearing is dragging him down. She struggled to fight off her growing panic. Had she just murdered a foreign ruler? Celestia’s lies suddenly seemed like small sins indeed.

Aether’s Vigil swept out of the cloudless night, scattering ashes and embers everywhere. Luna conjured a quarter dome shield to protect herself and her sister from the debris. The enormous bulk of the ship stopped dangerously close to the ground, and through her shield Luna spotted a silhouette leaning over the rail. “Wow!” A male voice called out over the sound of the turbines. “By the First Forge, I’ve never seen anything like THAT before! Wait, are you Luna? Sorry! Princess Luna! Princess, of course. That was my bad. Oh, and are you all right?”

Luna alone among the citizenry of Equestria was entrusted with knowledge of Aether’s Vigil and its purpose. And rightly so, as Luna was instrumental in the germination of the concept. She also knew that its crew consisted of ponies and gryphons her sister would entrust with her life. Indeed, that seemed like that would be the case. She leaned to the side, revealing Celestia’s unconscious form behind her, still encased within the glow of her levitation spell.

“Oh no. . .” The gryphon vanished, shouting orders out of sight. Then a section of guardrail swung inwards and a long rope appeared over the side, landing within reach of Luna’s hooves. The Princess of the Night rolled her eyes and lifted Celestia’s limp form up into the air magically, flying behind her sister. She landed gently upon the deck. The startled gryphon glanced down at the rope and back up. “Heh, right. . .”

Luna stood taller than he. “FEATHERED SQUIRE! MY SISTER REQUIRES A SKILLED MEDIC!” Luna mostly remembered not to slip into the Royal Canterlot Voice anymore. Mostly.

The gryphon’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “Well, I happen to be the physician here on the Vigil, let me take a look at her.”

Princess Luna stepped in the way. “WHAT IS THY NAME?”

“It’s Pin Feather. And you don’t have to shout, your Majesty. . .”

“KNOW THIS, YOUNG PIN FEATHER. SHOULD MY BELOVED SISTER FARE ILL, MY IRE SHALL BE DEEP AND SPANN’D AS THE GREAT OCEAN!”

“Geez, I get it.” He blinked and rubbed at one ear before gesturing with a blunted talon towards the closed cabin door. “Trust me, just put her on the stretcher.”

“WHAT STRETCHER?”

A moment later the cabin door burst inward, and a gryphon and a pegasus pony appeared, balancing between them a large, flat tray. “Look, I know we haven’t formally met, Princess, but you’re going to have to trust me.” He lifted an eyebrow and flicked an eartuft.

Luna nodded. She levitated Celestia over the stretcher and set her down with all the deliberate care of an artist moving a Faberge egg. Pin Feather reared up over the unconscious alicorn on his hind legs and studied her intently. He gently peeled back an eyelid with the side of a talon, and he delicately ran his spread foreclaws over her ribs. “What happened to her?” He asked no one in particular. He perked an ear and gently laid it against Celestia’s chest. “At least one of her ribs has punctured a lung. Get her to the infirmary now.”

As Pin Feather followed his aides through the cabin door, Princess Luna’s eyes suddenly unfocused. She turned and threw her hooves over the rail, looking back down into the blasted clearing just as a quartet of ponies cantered into view.

“What in tarnation. . .” Applejack adjusted her hat in the wind from the airship.

“That’s neat! What is it?” Pinkie Pie asked.

For once Fluttershy didn’t duck and hide. She looked too worn to do either. Still, she spoke, for her friends’ sake. “It looks dangerous.”

Princess Luna recognized them immediately. “’TIS GOOD YOU ALL HAVE COME.” She said. “TARRY NOT, FOR BOTH OF YOUR PRINCESSES ARE ABOARD.”

“Woah. . .” Spike shook his head in disbelief. “Is that Princess Luna?”

“Seems to be.” Rarity looked as shocked as anyone. “I mean, who else still uses the Royal Canterlot Voice?”

“She’s sayin’ Celestia’s already on board.” Applejack turned her stunned gaze upon the surrounding devastation. “C’mon everypony, let’s go find out who’s tail she’s kicked up and down these parts.”

Okay, I just need to focus. Twilight pictured the clasp on the cloak King Rirton had been wearing when she’d met him. She pictured the two crossed feathers, the jewels inset around and through them. She tried to imagine the weight of it, and she used the mental image she’d conjured to channel a spell, something she hoped would help.

It was tougher than she thought it would be. Water was difficult to work with magically. It resisted definition and rigidity, always slipping away if a spell wasn’t perfectly defined. It’s why advanced students of magic were always instructed to practice levitating small quantities of water from place to place. Worse, water was tough to work through. It tended to diffuse a spell’s energy, dispersing it from its intended path. Had Rirton been submerged beneath a fast-moving stream, Twilight might have found her spell impossible. As it was, enough effort eventually paid off. As Twilight’s horn burst into light, it was answered by a similar glow from beneath the ocean’s surface several pony-lengths away. She latched her dry, burning eyes on that glow and focused on hauling Rirton towards the surface by the clasp of his cloak.

Twilight should have known better. She hadn’t braced herself magically, so the force she exerted upwards simultaneously dragged her back underwater. She berated herself sharply, held on grimly to the breath she had and used her magic to pull herself towards the glow. She kept her eyes doggedly open, trying to resist the urge to shut them again. Within moments she saw him, his regal cloak billowed out behind his head. He’d sawed through a pair of the straps clasping the strange crossbow device around his midsection, but another pair of straps still wrapped beneath his wings. His legs kicked and his wings swept through the water, but he made it no closer to the surface. He locked eyes with Twilight in a silent plea for help.

Twilight felt lightheaded. She hadn’t taken a deep breath before her spell pulled her under, but it was clear that Rirton was out of time. She focused on the remaining straps and tried some delicate levitation to unbuckle the clasps. She failed. The intervening water dispersed her attempts. Spots began to flash before her eyes. I couldn’t save him. She thought desperately. I tried. How could I know this would happen? It was an accident! Nopony would blame me anyway. A dark part of her thought. I don’t owe him my life. I don’t owe him anything!

She shoved those thoughts aside. With a snarl her horn’s glow scaled from purple to white and she snapped the straps through sheer force, and the metal rig fell away. Rirton started rising to the surface. She followed. Every beat of her heart, Twilight fought the urge to breathe. But the urge grew every second, demanding that she inhale or die. How in Equestria did we drift so deep? Her chest convulsed on its own as she struggled to keep her mouth shut and her throat closed until she reached the surface. She was still swimming towards the surface, right? She could no longer see the King. Where is he, anyway?

Twilight Sparkle broke the surface and gasped as much cool night air into her lungs as she could. Except that her throat and chest burned mightily as her lungs filled with seawater, for only the tip of her hoof had broken the surface. Why did she think she’d made it? Another pair of kicks later her head surfaced but it didn’t matter anymore because she couldn’t breathe in any of the air around her with her lungs filled with water and her eyes rolled back into her head and she slipped back beneath the gentle swells. Panic was replaced with stillness, pain replaced with peace, desperation replaced with quiet despair as the darkness closed in. I’m sorry. She pictured her dearest friends, laughing and drinking cider beside the white fence surrounding Sweet Apple Acres. Please be okay.

That thought was not followed by another.

11: Vigil

Twilight Sparkle surfaced through thick layers of clinging blackness. A fine pinpoint of light began to grow, acquire definition. Conscious thought began to follow as a dark shape appeared. Twilight made out a beak and eartufts. You. The shape vanished, and a distant crash reached her ears. “Ponyfeathers!” Should she have recognized that voice? Twilight became aware of something else, something foreign intruding into her throat, making her body convulse and gag. She reached up with her hooves and pulled. With a terrible scraping sensation an impossibly long tube slid out of her esophagus. She almost threw up.

Another shape appeared in her vision, this one purple and green and heartbreakingly familiar. “Twilight! Stop!” Spike? It took real effort, but she blinked her eyes wider. Spike? She wanted to grab the little scaly beast and cuddle him to her chest. Instead she blinked painfully slowly, and she turned her head to try and figure out where she was.

She found herself on the floor of a small antiseptic room. Her attention could have been taken in by the soullessly bright electric lights. Or the strangely tasteful black and burgundy trim. Or the elevated cot next to her, over the side of which dangled Princess Celestia’s golden hoofshods, looking much the worse for wear. Or the tiny snippet of the night sky outside the porthole above her head.

Instead, Twilight found herself focused on a gryphon, slightly smaller than average, with a coat of a dull, dusky blue with sporadic bands of lighter blue. His foreclaws were the standard yellow-gold with black talons, and his hindpaws were flat white, like socks. Also, he was writhing against the ceiling while a sopping wet and bedraggled Rainbow Dash tried to pull him down and Spike continued shouting at her.

With a start, Twilight dropped the spell and with it her captive. The gryphon tumbled unceremoniously atop Dash, landing together in a heap on the threshold. Spike turned wide, trembling eyes upon Twilight before flinging himself into her arms, hugging her tight. Twilight ached everywhere, and the hug really kind of hurt. She didn’t mind.

“Mmmmfff!” Rainbow’s mane twitched from underneath the pile of feathers and fur.

“Oh, sorry!” The gryphon carefully arched off of the floor, allowing Dash the room to scootch out. “Gak! My back!” He twitched and fell away from the pegasus before they both picked themselves up.

“Hey, are you alright?” Dash reached out a tentative hoof.

“I’m fine, except for your purple pony pal trying to rip my limbs off my body.” He gingerly put weight on each of his legs in turn.

“Twilight, what gives?” There was no accusation in Rainbow’s voice. None. Only exhaustion tinged with relief. “He was just trying to help.”

Twilight’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth to apologize, but doubled up into a coughing fit instead. Spike backed away a little to give her some room; unshed tears making his eyes shine in the bright lights. The stranger sighed and walked back to her side. “At least you didn’t break anything. Here.” He reached up out of sight and produced a pair of pills and a cup of water. “These will help with the pain and should stave off infection. You’ve got some serious explaining to do, you know. Thistle is livid, seeing as how. . . wait, sip it slowly!”

Twilight took two large gulps and nearly choked, spitting some of the water back out rather than inhaling any of it. The gryphon shook his head and said, “Yeah, I probably should have said that last thing first. Here, let me get that.”

Rainbow Dash glanced from the cot to Twilight and back as water dripped off of her blue coat and pooled around her hooves. “Twilight, what the hoof happened?” She seemed subdued by some new seriousness; all of her usual bluster was gone.

Twilight took a second look at the cot above her, wondering why Celestia wasn’t moving or joining in the conversation. When cold logic implied that she’d been hurt somehow, Twilight found that she felt. . . not much. She was concerned, of course, she just felt no surprise. Twilight had come to see her mentor as fallible, even mortal, over the last few weeks. The candle of her blind faith or ignorance had been snuffed out, leaving a colder, darker sensation behind. A larger picture had been drawing into focus, and Twilight was just beginning to see her place in it.

“Equestria to Twilight!” Twilight’s eyes swam back into focus as Rainbow Dash prodded her hindhoof. “Are we losing you?”

“How. . .” Twilight coughed a bit more. “How is she?”

The gryphon didn’t glance behind him as he fumbled with the sink. “Who? The giant winged horned goddess? She’ll be okay, so long as she doesn’t move around too much.”

Spike didn’t take his eyes off of his only family in the world. “Twilight?” Spike’s voice hitched in his throat. “Does it hurt?” He reached a gentle claw towards her face. What doesn’t hurt? She thought. Then she realized everyone was staring at her face. As her memories resurfaced, Twilight felt a fresh wave of stinging pain across her eye and muzzle.

“Here.” The gryphon pushed forward again, proffering a fresh cup of presumably water. “Sip this, and I’ll clean those cuts out.” His tone of voice suggested a measure of forgiveness for Twilight’s past sins. “Ocean water only does so much as an antiseptic. I might even have an eye patch around here somewhere.” He offered her a lopsided grin alongside perked eartufts. “Then we’ll let you meet the rest of the crew. If you’re feeling up to it, of course. And if you promise not to ponykinesis them about the place.” Twilight smiled guiltily.

“Honestly, I think anyone looks cooler with an eye patch.” Rainbow Dash kept a limping pace next to the gryphon who had introduced himself as Pin Feather, the airship’s medic. Spike clung to Twilight’s back at her insistence. His solid reassurance felt very comforting in the strange surroundings she found herself in. Twilight wasn’t certain what she’d been expecting, but she hadn’t been expecting an airship to look so. . . stylish. The trim matched the soft carpeting, which in turn matched the décor. Beautiful paintings offset the occasional bench covered in silk cushions which probably cost more than anything Twilight owned, including her rare first-editions. She’d figured that any royal transport would look nice, but. . . sheesh.

Pin Feather nodded earnestly. “A lot cooler. Hey, maybe we could try to get Cloud to wear one! Clouded Gaze is our core helmsgryph, and she always looks like she’s ready to throw someone out of a hatch. Like, seriously no-nonsense all the time.” He bounded in place for emphasis. “If she put an eye patch on, I bet she’d look even more awesome!”

“Hahah hah! Yeah, we’ll have to ask her.” Rainbow Dash’s grin slowly deserted her as voices drifted towards them from an open room ahead.

“It’s not happening! We aren’t heading far from provisions without knowing what’s out there!” A male voice, probably a gryphon.

“ARE WE NOT FULLY PROVISIONED NOW?” What? Princess Luna? Twilight nudged Rainbow’s flank, and Dash turned her a look as if to say I know! Crazy, right?

“Yes, we are. But that’s not the point!”

“MY SISTER’S WISHES ARE KNOWN, AND HER CONDITION HAS STABALIZED.”

“I’m fully aware of both facts. . .”

“THEN ANY DELAY COULD BE CONSIDERED TRESON!”

The four of them rounded a corner and stopped in the doorway to a large, elegant room. Clearly a place where the crew could grab a bite to eat and relax. There were mahogany tables bolted to the floor, and benches near one wall where one might have a view of the stars. Another section had what looked like a bar, although no one stood behind it. In the center of the room a stern Princess Luna squared off against a large tawny gryphon. He was tall enough that he didn’t need to look up to meet Luna’s eyes.

“Treason? Ha! More like avoiding suicide! Until I know what that thing was. . .”

“WE HAVE ALREADY DESCRIBED WHAT WE KNOW OF THAT VILE CREATURE.”

Applejack, Rarity and Pinkie Pie all stood well back from the altercation. Fluttershy hid behind Rarity’s tail, as far as she could get from a magenta earth pony Twilight didn’t recognize. Twilight cracked a small, relieved smile at the sight of her friends and placed a hoof around Rainbow Dash.

“Until I know what that thing was we aren’t leaving sight of shore! And stop shouting! This is a small space! And I have excellent hearing! This isn’t a train station!”

“OUR. . . Our apologies! We are still somewhat out of practice with normal conversation, Captain Thistle Down. Truth told, we are vexed.”

The magenta pony with the raven black mane stepped forward, glaring daggers at the somewhat windblown gryphon trying to smooth his feathers. “What the good Captain is trying and failing to adequately express, your Highness, is a simple and practical fear.” Her fluid bow denoted obeisance while gesturing to the airship as a whole. “The forces we have seen unleashed this night could have scourged our beloved dirigible from the sky a dozen times over. Should this creature find us over open ocean, our odds may prove unfavorable. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Whatever Princess Luna might have said in reply was lost beneath a squeal of joy as Pinkie Pie shot across the intervening space like a brightly-colored hug rocket and knocked Rainbow Dash clean over. Rarity’s features were positively aglow. “Twilight! Rainbow Dash! Thank Celestia you’re both alright!”

Twilight smiled and said, “I guess we all made it. Oh, it’s so good to seeWAUGH!!” Her breath was knocked out of her as Pinkie Pie tackled her from the side and sent Spike tumbling off her back. Pin Feather leapt nimbly out of the way, his own eyes sparkling at the energetic display.

Pinkie’s bright blue eyes dominated Twilight’s field of vision. “Twilight! We saw Dashie bring you in but they wouldn’t let any of us stay by your side except Spike and that’s maybe because he’s smaller than the rest of us but we were all so worried we didn’t care but Thistle Downy here explained that on an airship even a big airship like this one here there’s only so much room for stuff like lamps and desks and bouncing bubblegum-looking wackjobs so they made us *long, gasping inhale* wait in this room which looks like it’s for eating but it seems mostly used for yelling so I think I’m going to call it the Arguing Room and what’s a wackjob because I just now realized he might have been talking about me when he said that what happened to your eye?”

Applejack pried Pinkie Pie off of their friend while Pin Feather giggled in the background. “Now let the filly talk, Pinkie. I reckon she don’t need more rough handlin’ than she’s seen.” She helped Twilight to her hooves and eyed her friend nervously. “Um, you didn’t lose an eye, didja?”

Twilight shook her head, but Pin Feather answered for her. “Oh no, nothing like that. But her eyelid was cut rather deeply, and her cornea got scratched a little. She’ll be fine, the patch is just to keep her from blinking too much and making the scarring worse.”

Twilight’s head jerked back in surprise at his words. She hadn’t considered the possibility of facial scars. Rarity noticed her reaction and reached out a hoof to comfort her. “Oh, don’t worry Twilight, dear. If you’ve got any blemishes when these things heal I’ve got a cream you can try. It’s wonderful for smoothing skin and getting your coat to grow back evenly.”

“Why would she want it?” Rainbow Dash was struggling to stay upright as Pinkie Pie directed all of her overflowing hug energy towards the cerulean pegasus. “Scars are awesome! I bet she looks even cooler without the eye patch! Right Pin Feather?”

He seemed to take her suggestion seriously, peering critically at Twilight from a few different angles. “Hmmm, I don’t know. Maybe.”

Princess Luna paced up to the group of friends. “TWILIGHT. . . Twilight Sparkle. We are pleased to find you hale and ambulatory.”

Pinkie Pie, finally distracted from her hugging mission, dropped her current victim back onto his scaly haunches and scrunched up her face at Luna’s words. “Huh?”

Twilight’s good eye unfocused. “I. . . I thought I died out there.”

“Well, you nearly did.” Pin Feather’s grin slid off his face. “Rainbow Dash here saved your life, somehow flying you both to the Vigil’s upper deck. She’s quite the athlete.”

Dash shrugged. “Well, I swam towards some sort of commotion in the water, and I found this gryphon treading water, holding up Twilight’s limp body. I almost put my hoof across his beak before I realized he was trying to help her.” She chuckled weakly. “He gave me a boost to get airborne, otherwise I probably couldn’t have taken off at all. He deserves as much of the credit as I do, whoever he was.”

Luna’s expression was grave. “Didst this gryphon inflict this harm upon you, Twilight?”

Twilight nodded. “I teleported us both into the ocean. In Rirton’s defense, I don’t think he was expecting that.”

“Wait, King Rirton?!” The tawny gryphon finally spoke up, stalking forward a pace. “As in King Aurak Rirton?! The liege of the seven gryphon tribes?” He seemed at a loss for which gesture to resort to. “Are. . . Have we all gone barking, raving mad? How. . . How could this. . .”

The magenta pony stepped to his side and looked up at him, gently touching his side to get his attention. “They’ll send flights after us. You know they will. Perhaps the Princess of the Night is correct. We should disembark now. Sooner, if possible.”

“Paugh. . . Madness.” The tawny gryphon crossed the mess hall in a pair of bounding leaps towards a far door. His voice rang out as he disappeared. “Moon to stern and ahead full! Gaze, I want us well above second cloudline in three! Let’s move move move!”

The magenta pony, her eyes the only part of her that appeared worried, gestured to a large central table. “Perhaps we should make ourselves comfortable while we make one another’s acquaintances.” Even her walk was somewhat stately as she took a seat near the end of the rectangular table, hooking her hindlegs under the bench. Twilight found herself between the stranger and Fluttershy (who was trying hard to disappear behind her own mane) as she took a seat, marveling at the subtle designs. Each place setting had an elegantly carved and gilded depression for holding a food tray steady through turns and tilts. And the bench itself had subtle depressions to make holding oneself in place quite comfortable.

A sleepy Spike clambered up to wedge himself underneath Twilight’s arm as Rainbow Dash took a seat next to Rarity. Pin Feather sat across from Fluttershy, causing her to shrink even further into herself. Princess Luna marched to the end of the table, declining a seat with a shake of her head. Pinkie Pie contented herself with pronking around the table, her eyes closed and fairly beaming with undisguised joy.

“My dear Miss Pie,” The unnamed earth pony’s eyes sparkled beneath her raven-black locks. “Are you certain you wouldn’t like to join us properly?”

“Mmmm hmmm!” Pinkie Pie bounced through another circuit. “I’m too happy to sit!”

“Of course you are dear.” She turned to Twilight and held out a hoof. “My name is Sun Shade.” With a sudden lurch, the airship skated sideways through an arc, throwing Pinkie Pie into a long skid on her face. Princess Luna looked as though her hooves were bolted as securely to the floor as the benches were. Twilight found that she was anchored well enough to her bench that she could take the hoof proffered her with an amused smile.

“Ex-ambassador to the Higher Gryphon Court, amateur interior designer and unfortunate spinster. And you are?” The airship began to pick up speed as its nose angled upwards. Pinkie Pie scrabbled her hooves against the carpet as the g-force dragged her across the room and away from her friends. Pin Feather laughed aloud. Sun Shade hadn’t broken eye contact, but she was clearly enjoying the moment, amused by Pinkie Pie’s plight.

Twilight giggled, something she felt she hadn’t done in forever. “My name is Twilight Sparkle.” She suddenly felt as though that wasn’t enough of an introduction. She tried to think of something to add about herself. “Um, Bearer of the Element of Magic and, uh, primarily diurnal arboreal librarian.”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “Is this gonna be one a’ those conversations?”

Sun Shade’s smile widened. “It’s a true pleasure to meet you, Twilight Sparkle. And you, Miss?” She turned her attention to the semi-dry pegasus wringing saltwater out of her mane and onto the carpeting.

Dash tossed her colorful mane back, flinging water droplets everywhere. “Oh, I’m Rainbow Dash! Element of Loyalty, winner of Cloudsdale’s best flyer competition and, uh, Pentagon of Awesomliness.”

Rarity interjected. “Don’t you mean ‘paragon?’”

Dash cocked her head to the side. “Why? What’s paragon mean?”

Rarity swept her nose through a subtle arc for emphasis. “It means ‘quintessence.’”

Applejack leaned toward her friend. “Gesundheit.”

Rarity’s expression instantly fell into mock offence.

“Art more introductions in order?” Princess Luna glanced about the table pointedly.

“No ma’am.” Pin Feather’s smiling eyes widened suddenly. “Oh, I mean your Highness.”

Sun Shade tilted her head to the side. “Almost, your Highness. There remains one pony I have not yet properly met.” She directed her gaze to the yellow pegasus sitting low on the bench.

Fluttershy’s voice was a delicate thing, barely discernible above the roar of the airship’s engines. “Uh. . . Um. . . F__sh__.”

“Help!” Pinkie Pie crawled across the carpet one inch at a time. “Why are you all so uphill?” A subtle course correction caused her to lose what traction she’d had, sliding back down towards the far wall again. “Aaaaaaaackies-OOF!”

“Well, it is a divine pleasure meeting you, Miss F__sh__.” Sun Shade mimicked Fluttershy’s mumbling perfectly. “Your mane is full of luster, and I find I am quite jealous of it. Should we become friends, I intend to shamelessly pester you for mane-care advice.”

Fluttershy may have squeaked something out in reply. But even though she’d sunk so low in her seat she appeared no bigger than Spike, a small smile may have been visible.

“Princess Luna.” Twilight’s violet eyes grew worried. “I mean no offence, your Highness, but why are you here? Is Canterlot alright?”

“Your concern is misplaced, Twilight Sparkle. Equestria remains tranquil. When we scryed my sister’s train and discovered it derailed, we decided to disobey her orders and proffer her our assistance. Fortune smiled upon us, for we arrived this very night, and it seemed not a moment too soon.” Princess Luna’s eyes unfocused. “We discovered our beloved sister beset by some fell beast, a foe of such puissance and darkness that we shudder to recall it.” Luna’s horn began to glow, and a black stain began to spread across the table, drawing everyone’s attention. The center of the blackness bulged upwards, forming the outline of a face struggling to define itself. It writhed and snapped its jaws, glaring at the companions seated about the table.

Fluttershy squeaked and hid. Twilight tried to hide Spike’s eyes, but he moved her hoof out of the way. “Coooool.” Dash said, leaning closer for a better look.

Luna continued, “It was injured when we blindsided it, and we injured it further, forced it to retreat. We remain uncertain whether or not we could have destroyed it utterly, given time. ‘Twas fearsome.”

Twilight cleared her throat. “So, we don’t know what it was? We don’t even have a clue?”

Luna shook her head. “Only that t’was powerful, corrupt of soul, self-aware, and it had no body if its own. Instead, it fought from within a vessel; this mature changeling. One with a mane of red and grey. When the darkness fled, it left the changeling’s body behind.”

Applejack tipped her hat back. “That’s the changeling from the hive! ‘Ember’ or something.”

“Cinder. His name was Cinder.” Twilight slapped a hoof against the table, jostling a wide-eyed Spike. “Oh, if only I had access to my library. . . or better yet, the Canterlot library. I think I’d at least know where to start looking for clues.”

“Twilight.” Luna’s intense, teal eyes bored into hers. “Whatever this creature may be, we believe it is older than the Canterlot library.”

Rainbow Dash whistled through her teeth and left her seat, hovering in place just above the bench. “Woah. So like, on a scale of um, let’s say ‘obnoxious’ to ‘Discord,’ just how dangerous. . .”

“DO NOT SPEAK THAT NAME.” Princess Luna shattered the illusion she had summoned. Dash dropped back into her seat, and Luna dropped her voice into the shaken silence. “Dare not speak his name. The ensconced draconequus you faced is possessed of powers drawn directly from the heart of the Darkness we journey towards. We are exceptionally lucky that during his brief freedom he did not actively seek our harm.”

“Sure he was powerful,” Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes, “But he folded up like a lawn chair when we hit him with the Power of Friendship! Right Twilight?” Twilight nodded, but she didn’t reflect Dash’s confident smile.

Princess Luna seemed unimpressed. “We studied his prison, and it appeared quite formidable. The combined force of the Elements of Harmony has not waned in our absence. You claim, however, that he did not fight back, nor dist he flee?”

Twilight shook her head. “He seemed confident that our friendship would fail us. He’d gotten inside our heads, convinced us to act against our natures, I guess.”

“With our beloved sister, we pursued the Spirit of Chaos for years before we managed to exhaust his capacity for deception and his proclivity for cunning escapes. Hmmm. Perhaps his long imprisonment somehow blunted his wits.” Luna’s eyes remained doubtful. Twilight suddenly wanted to return to Canterlot, maybe examine Discord’s statue herself. She had never before considered their victory over him ‘easy.’

Luna flung her mane over one shoulder, effectively dismissing the topic. “To address your earlier question, Rainbow Dash, the creature we faced tonight displayed knowledge of ancient magics and was possessed of no hesitation to employ them towards our end. At the height of our powers mayhap we would tarry to engage such a beast upon even hoofing.”

Rainbow Dash didn’t look impressed. She looked like she was doing algebra in her head. Rarity offered a translation. “She said ‘it’s dangerous,’ Rainbow.”

“I knew that.” Dash looked only vaguely annoyed.

Twilight glanced nervously out the window. “Um, should we keep some sort of watch, your highness?”

“Of course. ‘Tis the only sane solution for the time being. We will stand first.” Luna’s gaze turned critical. “Until my sister may join us, you are the only other creature aboard who may provide effective vigil. Whilst we rest or raise the celestial bodies, thou must watch over this vessel. Do not engage except for defense, and call for us instantly. Do not rely upon your eyes, rather open your other senses. Dost thou understand all we have conveyed?”

Twilight hesitated, but she agreed with a nod. “Yes, Princess.”

“Good.” Luna began to walk towards the far door. “Join me upon the flight deck ere sunrise. Thou hast five hours.” Luna paused to scowl at Pinkie Pie, who lay in a jumbled heap near the door. With a spell, Luna lifted the earth pony up into the air and set her down at the end of the table, where she clung for dear life. Then the Princess was gone.

“Thank you!” Pinkie Pie shouted after her.

Twilight waited a beat before turning back to the rest of the table. “Okay, is anypony else worried that our Luna might be a changeling?”

“What?!?” Pin Feather looked shocked.

Sun Shade nodded. “Quite honestly, I am happy we can address this now. I hadn’t wanted to broach the possibility myself.”

Rarity toyed with her mane in thought. “She certainly sounded like Princess Luna, even down to the Royal Canterlot Voice. . . Yet that scarcely proves anything.” Rarity sighed, her hooves massaging her temples. “Ugh, I grow so tired of unthreading deceptions and suspicions. Why must these cursed changelings complicate everything?” She whined.

Pin Feather glanced around warily. “I guess they’re just mindless, disgusting parasites, aren’t they?”

“Um, fer what it’s worth,” Applejack removed her hat and held it to her chest. “I didn’t get the sense there was rats in the cellar, ifn y’all get my meaning.”

“Oh, how delightful!” Sun Shade laughed. “Your euphemisms match your hat!”

“Oh, you have no idea. . .” Rarity rolled her eyes dramatically.

Twilight caught Applejack’s gaze. “We need to be sure, AJ. Pay keen attention to everything she says. Until we can try a spell on her, we need to be on our guard.”

“And, why can’t we try that now?” Rainbow Dash’s mane fell into her eyes as she glared. “You know we’d all have your back. Let’s go! I’ll hold her down while you do your magic thing.”

Sun Shade and Rarity both made equally offended noises, paired with scandalized expressions to match. Twilight shook her head no. “We can’t let her know what we know until we know for sure.”

Dash rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Ugh, why not? You know, you can’t just tippy-hoof past all of your problems by thinking through every little thing. Sometimes you gotta get in and get your hooves dirty to take out the trash.”

“This is the same problem we faced in the changeling hive, remember? If we reveal Luna as an enemy, we might not be able to keep her from destroying this ship. I don’t think we can afford a confrontation until Celestia’s on her hooves. And we can’t leave Celestia alone with her until we’re sure.”

Sun Shade nodded her agreement. “I’m certain this is the real reason Thistle wanted us to stay near shore; the possibility that Luna isn’t who she claims to be. Having Rirton’s military board the ship would be only slightly more fatal to our plans.”

“Gah, fine.” Rainbow dropped into sulk mode. “We’ll play this your way. I guess I’d rather drown than get dragged off to some smelly gryphon dungeon anyway.”

Applejack grit her teeth. “Manners, Rainbow. We’re guests here, remember?”

Rainbow Dash glanced guiltily at the only gryphon at the table. “Heheh, sorry. No offence, Pin Feather. I guess I’m just tired.”

Pin Feather clapped her on the back. “No sweat, Dasher! Truth be told, our dungeons do have a kind of funk to them. . .”

Fluttershy’s quiet voice drifted across the table while she fidgeted nervously with her mane. “Um, if Princess Luna was, um. . .” Fluttershy seemed to realize she was speaking, squeaked and hid behind her mane again.

“It’s okay Fluttershy. What were you going to say?” Twilight placed a hoof on her friend’s shoulder. The pink mane squeaked again, but neither a face nor recognizable words emerged.

“My dear,” Sun Shade spoke gently. “Did you mean to say that, should our Luna mean us ill, she would have acted against us by now?” Fluttershy’s pink mane nodded. “That was well reasoned. We should be safe enough at present. Fluttershy, beneath your lovely mane you possess both perception and wit. We shall indeed be fast friends.”

Rarity smiled fondly. “Quite. Our Fluttershy is a true gem.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Applejack agreed.

Rainbow Dash shrugged. “Yeah, if only she wasn’t entirely useless in a fight.”

Pinkie Pie reached across the table and whapped Dash over the head. “That’s awful! Say you’re sorry, Dashie!” But Fluttershy was already half-running, half-sliding towards the far door, embarrassed to be seen crying in front of strangers. The airship chose in that moment to level out as Fluttershy ran for the door and she tripped, smacking her face against the doorframe. Crying openly now, Fluttershy vanished.

Applejack turned a glare of death upon the blue pegasus. “Just what is your problem, Rainbow?”

“What?” Dash looked from face to face, wide-eyed. “All I’m saying is that I think she’d lose a fight to a breakfast muffin. But, in the nicest possible way. . . Seriously, am I wrong? Tell me I’m wrong!”

“That is not the point, Rainbow Dash. You’ve gone and hurt her feelings.” Rarity glanced from Sun Shade to Pin Feather. “What kind of comfort foods do we have? You don’t have tea aboard this delightfully posh airship, do you?”

Pin Feather held up a pair of foreclaws, warding off the question. “Don’t look at me; they don’t let me in the kitchen anymore.”

“You are in luck.” Sun Shade’s eyes brightened. “We have only the finest tea aboard, Miss Rarity. Twenty hoof-selected imports directly from the Mareiage Freres. ”

“Oh, marvelous! You simply must show me your selection!” Rarity squeaked.

Sun Shade nodded. “I’ve done my best to ensure modern comforts on our voyage. Allow me to accompany you to the kitchen, and we shall see what we can find to cheer up our friend. Pin Feather, would you be so kind as to show our guests to their rooms for the night?” Her gaze once more swept the company. “I hope our accommodations suffice. Rest as you will, and rejoin us as you like.”

Twilight stood up from the table, trusting that the airship wouldn’t turn again and fling her hooves out from underneath her. She set a quietly snoozing Spike gently across her back. “Okay, but. . . I can’t allow myself to sleep tonight. There’s too much at stake.”

“That’s funny.” Pinkie Pie observed. “Because you don’t eat steak, and you look like you’re asleep already.”

Twilight glared a bit before she shook her head a little and gently slapped her cheeks. “Ugh, I feel like I’m asleep. But too many things could go wrong. Maybe I’ll just grab a book and sit where I can keep an eye on Princess Luna. And maybe I can trouble you for some of that tea.”

Sun Shade’s serious eyes closed as she conceded with a nod. “As you wish. I am certain I do not speak solely for myself when I say we are glad to have you aboard, Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight smiled in reply. Turning, she regarded the scaly beast on her back. Spike looked so adorable whenever he slept, more so than any tiny colt or filly Twilight had ever seen. She’d never once considered having a foal of her own; uncovering the mysteries of the world had been Twilight’s sole obsession since she first watched Celestia raise the sun in Canterlot. But this tiny dragon had come to teach Twilight just why some ponies wished nothing more than to devote their lives to raising their young. She thought of the endless hours she’d spent in research and study over the last few years, and her eyes misted over. Maybe he would have had a better life if someone else had raised him. Her voice cracked a little as she gently nuzzled Spike. “H-- hey, how about you go with this nice gryphon and find out where we’ll be sleeping, hmmm?”

Spike rubbed tiredly at one eye. “Mmmpff. . . what ‘bout you?”

“I’ll join you in awhile. I promise.”

“No.” Spike mumbled. “No. . . ’m staying with you.”

Twilight sighed. Spike’s eyes had already closed again, so he didn’t see the love welling up in Twilight’s. “Okay.” She whispered. She kissed his forehead. “Okay.”

“Once you loop that bit around here, and clasp this section here, you should be all set.”

“Hmmm. . .” Twilight had perked up slightly when Sun Shade started strapping her into a belay harness, but now that she understood how it worked, her mind went back to feeling soggy and semi-useless. “Thank you. So, the anchor rope loops under here. . .” She indicated the coil of rope neatly hung about her chest. “And the eyelets on the deck will be obvious?”

“Quite.” Sun Shade indicated the short staircase before them. “They’re all painted a bright yellow, so as to be unmistakable.”

“So, just how bad will the wind be out there? How fast are we going?”

“Fast enough to give you far more of the ‘windblown’ look than you’d like, I’m sure. But your footing should be just fine. Barring major course corrections, naturally. That’s what the belay line is for. Just be cautious, darling.”

“Of course.” Twilight indicated the sumptuous cushioned bench nearby, whereupon Spike slept soundly next to a well-worn adventure novel. “And thank you for tracking down something for me to read. I’ve never heard of the ‘Parasol Protectorate’ series before.”

“I hope you find it a delightful romp.” Sun Shade said. “Now I simply must catch up with Rarity and see to Fluttershy’s state. I do hope a little light banter will do the trick. If you require anything further, do not hesitate to ask.”

“Of course.”

Sun Shade trotted out of sight, leaving Twilight alone with her thoughts. And her tea. It smelled like honeysuckle and mint, an invigorating combination. Twilight leapt lightly atop the cushion next to Spike and he barely shifted. Twilight smiled and stomped around a bit. If Spike were a wineglass, Twilight didn’t think she could tip it over. But scant seconds after she settled down she realized her danger. The bench was far too comfortable. With a small sigh, Twilight lay herself upon the cold, hard floor in front of the bench where she could see the intimidating steel hatch which opened to the flight deck, but she could also lean her head gently against the sleeping Spike.

Twilight’s horn began to glow as she pushed her senses outward, feeling her way through the structure of the ship. She sensed old, obdurate wood atop cold steel supports, thinly overlaid with the accruements of living. She sensed the subtle crackle of electricity through wires, the low thub-thubing of pumps moving various fluids, and the warm glow of a cluster of living creatures nearby. Perhaps the control room, or something similar. Further ahead, at the front (prow?) of the ship, she felt the deep presence of Princess Luna; unmistakably the one who had been chatting with her and her friends earlier.

Luna wasn’t doing anything that Twilight could sense. No destructive magics, no communication spells. Nothing even remotely suspicious. Also, she was standing confidently in what Twilight imagined was intense wind without budging. Please please please be the real Princess. By the hoof of the Celestial Matriarch, we could use a break. Twilight tried to maintain her awareness as she cracked the book open in front of her. Just like pulling an all-nighter study session. Twilight yawned hugely. Except I feel like I just ran a mareathon. She sipped some tea and tried to focus her eyes upon the page in front of her.

Twilight Sparkle awoke with a gasp, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. She glanced through the porthole in the door above and glimpsed the sky. The first vestiges of lighter colors had tinged the darkness as the dimmer stars began to wink out. Glancing down at the book in front of her, Twilight noticed the page number: 56. She could scarcely remember if she’d actually read any of it. Spike still slumbered on the cushion next to her, and her teacup idled on the floor before her, cold and forgotten. Twilight leapt to her feet, raced softly up the steps before her and fiddled with the circular wheel on the metal hatch.

The door opened inward a crack, and a surge of wind shoved against the far side. Twilight had to set her shoulders and her hooves to keep from being mushed uncomfortably against the wall. Flipping her mane out of her eyes and squinting hard, she peered out onto the deck of the airship. The deck itself was a dark polished wood, inset with bright yellow eyelets, just as Sun Shade had promised. Bright silver guardrails bordered the deck, and where they met Princess Luna stood like an immobile icon carved of onyx and shadows to honor the mysteries of the night. The alicorn’s horn was wreathed in layers of light; various blues mirrored by the lightening sky before her.

Twilight resisted the impulse to reach out with her senses to touch upon the magics at work. It would be simple enough to determine whether the creature before her was truly raising the sun, yet it would be equally obvious that she was doing so. With a shake of her head, Twilight pushed out into the wind.

She had trouble breathing. The air before her was snatched away, forcing her lungs to strain just to pull air down into them. She ducked her head beneath the worst of it and focused upon putting one hoof in front of the other. After a few steps, a brilliant idea occurred to her. With a soft glow, a familiar purple dome formed around her, cutting out the wind entirely. Twilight smiled at her own cleverness and blinked the tears out of her eyes, just as the wind fully caught her makeshift bubble and flung both her and it backwards through the door. She landed heavily, her shield softening her fall a little. She let go of the spell and collapsed upon the stairs beneath her.

Ow. I really should have seen that coming. Twilight shook her head, irritated. Okay physics, you asked for it! Twilight charged out the door again. This time, her shield appeared as a pair of flat planes forming a ‘V’ in front of her, cutting through the air and forcing it to either side of her. Wind still skirled around the edges, buffeting her mane in all directions, but it wasn’t nearly the force she had been dealing with. Twilight reveled in a deep satisfaction. Universal Laws:1 Twilight Sparkle:1 Hah! With another spell, she pulled the door shut behind her.

Twilight made her way up the deck until she stood alongside Princess Luna’s ethereal mane. It seemed only somewhat touched by the wind, as though Luna’s mane and tail only partially existed upon this plane of reality. Up close, flecks and sparks of silver appeared and vanished, twinkling like stars. If that’s not the real Princess Luna, I will. . . um. . . eat something improbable. That’s one hoof of a disguise.

As the sky lightened, a tiny mote of fire peeked over the horizon. A minute speck which, given time, would utterly unmake the night and usher in a new day. Twilight tried not to look directly at it as she held her tongue and shivered in the cold, thin air. Looking up, she took in a perfect, cloudless dome of sky, with little to obstruct the view. Twilight had always envisioned that any airship imaginable would hang beneath a giant balloon, zeppelin-style. This vessel had no such source for lift, and she instantly felt a burning curiosity as to how this airship worked.

Minutes later, with the sun fully up and the stars having retreated, the light surrounding Luna’s horn faded, and the Princess of the Night turned a disapproving glare upon the unicorn beside her. “Twilight Sparkle. Didst thou maintain vigil whilst we ushered in the dawn?”

Twilight’s gaze dropped and she blushed hard. What with her falling asleep unexpectedly, being suspicious of Luna and battling the wind, she’d forgotten why she’d be out here in the first place. Her chagrin cut deeply, choking off any reply. She needn’t have spoken aloud in any case; her guilt radiated off of her.

“We had thought not. We had also thought thou might take the safety of your friends and the safety of these kind strangers with a measure of gravity.” Twilight wilted even further. “Our sister has erred in your instruction, young Twilight Sparkle. Do not shame her further.” Twilight nodded miserably.

Luna turned to walk away, unaffected by the howling river of air sweeping above and below and around her. She paused and looked back as Twilight took her place at the head of the ship. She called out effortlessly over the sound of the wind. “Thou’rt shielding thyself quite cunningly!” Twilight glanced up at her words, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “However, we would still advise use of thy harness, young one.” Twilight quickly fumbled the loop of rope from her harness and, reaching down, snapped the carabineer onto the closest eyehook. By the time she glanced back again, she was alone.

With a dejected sigh, Twilight took her place at the prow of the airship. The ocean was visible far below through the purple sheen of her shields. She could just make out a slight curvature to the horizon. Even atop the high mountain peak overlooking Ponyville, or the looming parapets and balconies of Canterlot with grand views of the vast lands of Equestria, had Twilight ever been able to see so far. Yet the only real feature she could discern was the thin line where the ocean met the sky.

The enormity of it all was oddly comforting. It made Twilight feel small. Dizzyingly small. Which, at least for the moment, made her forgetfulness seem small as well. She savored the illusion of the world being too large for the fate of it to rest squarely upon one filly’s shoulders. With another spell, Twilight conjured up some warmth and pushed her senses outwards, feeling for trouble as the crisp morning air tousled her mane.

12: An Interesting Life

Twilight found the morning slipping out of her hooves much faster than she would have thought. The emptiness of the sky, the constant rush of wind, the endless, unchanging expanse of the visible world. . . All of these things should have been boring to say the least. Especially to a pony who’s usual schedule is parsed by the minute for maximum productivity. Instead, Twilight Sparkle felt calmed. The movement, the simple spells, the hum of the airship’s engines beneath the wood of the deck all felt very meditative, helping to still Twilight’s spiraling thoughts. She found herself feeling the entirety of the vessel under her hooves, as though it was its own living thing. And Twilight was but a part of it.

The regal sun had barely climbed a respectable portion of the sky before Twilight sensed someone scaling the stairs behind her. A moment’s thought recognized Rainbow Dash and a gryphon without needing to spare a glance behind her. Another part of her wondered what kind of image she must portray, if she appeared the way Luna did perched upon the edge of the ship and gazing into the unknown ahead. She almost giggled at the overly-dramatic thought. Rarity would certainly approve.

As the door opened behind her, she caught snippets of conversation approaching through the wind.

“. . .elling you, It’d. . . roblem. . .”

“. . .ss harness is basic saf. . . otocol.”

“. . .an handle it!”

“I don’t think you apprec. . . spee. . . Ms. Dash.”

“Ugh, don’t call me that! And like I s. . . ven’t seen me fly before.”

“Then perhaps. . . me feel better. Humor me.”

“Fine. Good morning, Twilight! We brought you breakfast!”

A blue pegasus appeared on Twilight’s right, and a beak appeared on her left. She couldn’t see much on that side thanks to the soft black eye-patch. Both figures attached themselves to the deck, just as Twilight was. With a thought, Twilight widened her shield, diverting the worst of the wind away from the new arrivals before she glanced to her left. Twilight did a bit of a double-take. She’d been instinctively assuming Pin Feather, since he and Dash had hit it off so well last night. Instead, she found the tan and brown gryphon who’d been arguing with Luna. What was his name?

“Here, sunflower sandwich.” Dash hoofed her a napkin-wrapped bundle and a canteen. “We thought you could use some company, too. Neat spell.”

Twilight took the breakfast and offered a grateful smile in return. “Thanks Dash.”

The large gryphon smiled charmingly, head cocked to one side. “Captain Thistle Down. Please forgive my brusqueness last night, Ms. Sparkle. Something about our Princess Luna and evading my own government frays my civility, it would seem.” His words were clipped, intelligent and cordial. As though he was used to having a disarming effect on anyone around him. “The forward deck is somewhat inhospitable at these speeds, but I’m afraid we haven’t the luxury of slowing down quite yet. Although you seem to be holding up rather well.”

Twilight nodded. “Pleased to meet you, Captain. It’s beautiful up here.”

As Thistle followed her gaze off towards the horizon, his smile widened. “Yes it is, isn’t it?”

Dash snorted. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Pinkie was right. There isn’t anything to see out here. The ocean’s big, but it’s kind of boring.”

Thistle lifted an eyebrow. “And yet when that boring horizon changes, changes at all, it’ll be anything but boring. It’ll be a new land. Unexplored. It might be the most interesting thing any of us will ever see in our lifetimes.”

Twilight had opened the canteen and drank deeply, but it hadn’t distracted her from the undercurrent of yearning in Thistle’s voice. “You’re excited about this whole trip aren’t you? Exploring new places?”

Thistle shrugged a feathered shoulder. “It’s kind of my thing.”

Twilight’s thoughts drifted back to Celestia’s story concerning her homeland. “What if this new land is corrupted and dangerous? Don’t your people have, you know, stories?”

“I find that most stories are just that, Ms. Sparkle. Some of us don’t believe everything we’re told. I’ll believe what I see.”

Twilight grimaced. “I guess. But even if we are flying towards danger, you’re right about one thing. Our lives will become interesting.”

“That’s the spirit! Although in your case I might say ‘more interesting.’ Just from the gossip I’ve picked up the last few hours. . . I would love to hear about your adventures.”

Dash perked up when Thistle glanced her way. “Oh yeah, we’ve got stories about stories. Remind me to tell the one about Twilight and the fifty-ton bear.”

Thistle smiled. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Twilight’s smile was swept away by the wind. “How’s Fluttershy doing?”

Dash’s face fell. “She’s okay, I guess. Rarity and Shady found her in the infirmary.”

Thistle arched an amused eyebrow. “Shady?”

“Yeah.” Rainbow Dash stared in incomprehension for a moment. “Oh! Sorry. I mean ‘Miss Shady.’ Anyway, they talked her up last night and I apologized this morning. She didn’t sound mad, but she didn't seem herself, either.”

“Well, she should be mad!” Twilight put a little bit of the Stern Lecturer into her voice. “You embarrassed her in front of strangers, Rainbow! I would be mad at you.”

“Geez, I said I was sorry. Besides, Fluttershy could stand to toughen up just a little.” Twilight glared with her good eye at that last statement.

Thistle broke the resulting awkward silence. “You should know, Ms. Sparkle, that Princess Luna has been helping us map out our progress. At this speed we should see land in eight or nine days, assuming her memories are accurate.”

Twilight’s ears perked up. “Oh, that’s not too bad.”

“That’s only if we maintain this speed. However, we can’t keep pushing the engines at this pace. We’ll have to cut our speed in half today or risk warping the pistons, or worse. Aether’s Vigil was never tested at these speeds for more than a few minutes. Our cooling units are strained as it is. But even taking a slower pace, we have enough fuel and supplies to last us months if need be. We’ll be fine.”

Twilight’s eyes returned to the horizon. “Well, it’ll be nice to have nothing happen for a change. I’d be okay with having a slightly less interesting life for a couple of weeks.”

Dash agreed. “I’d drink sarsaparilla to that!”

Thistle laughed. “You know, among the zebras the phrase ‘May you have an interesting life.’ is considered a curse.”

Twilight felt a subtle change in the vibrations beneath her hooves. Maybe they were slowing down. “Do you feel that?”

“Feel what?” She heard from both sides at once, although only Thistle sounded concerned.

“The. . . vibrations from the engines, I guess.” The vibrations continued to deepen. “Didn’t you say we’d be slowing down?”

Thistle glanced back towards the rest of the ship. “We shouldn’t be. Not yet. We. . .” He clamped his beak shut as he caught the sound himself. He flicked an eartuft. The sound was followed by a soft ka-chunk, and the odd vibrations scaled back up to rejoin the hum of the other engines. Through Twilight’s senses, she felt something falling, something inanimate, from the bottom of the ship. The gryphon’s eyes flew wide. “Was that one of the turbines?” His horror was infectious.

Twilight frowned in concentration. They couldn’t be under attack, could they? She would have sensed something. They were beyond alone this far from shore. Dash had her ears perked, awaiting instructions. Twilight asked her, “Can you take a look?”

Thistle had unclipped his harness and pivoted to throw himself back towards the hatch. As he heard Twilight’s question, however, he twitched back to face her so violently he slipped, hitting the deck. This was the first time Twilight had noticed one of the Captain’s wings was trussed up in a sling. He was shouting before he found his footing. “’Take a look?’ Are you insane? We’re doing almost seventy knots!”

Dash answered by unclasping her harness from the deck. “Give me a boost, Twi?”

Twilight’s horn began to glow, and an answering glow hoisted Rainbow Dash into the air and pitched her over the railing and into the howling wind, where she was instantly snatched out of sight. Thistle Down’s shocked expression made Twilight giggle. “Yes.” She assured him. “She’s fast.”

Thistle blinked and sputtered. “For her sake she’d better be! Let’s go.” They both began a fast trot towards the doorway. Twilight dropped her shields, and the sudden wind behind them helped shove them forward. Thistle splayed his limbs against the deck, sliding neatly to a stop and popping the hatch open. Twilight overshot and stopped herself by splatting against the wall. She dropped into a crouch to get under the wind and looked up, grinning sheepishly.

Only a few tense moments passed before Rainbow Dash reappeared alongside the airship, wings a blue blur. “Fast my furry butt.” Thistle muttered under his breath. “She’s like lightning.”

Fighting the wind, she swept lightly over the guardrail, under the beam of the loading crane and landed easily on her hooves, her colorful mane gusting chaotically as she struggled to be heard. “So, like, one of your big fans under there lost its fan blades. It’s like they all tore off.”

“Which one?”

“One of the front ones. Um, this side.” Dash pointed.

“Crowfeathers!” Thistle spat as he flung himself through the hatch. Dash and Twilight followed, Twilight pausing to shove the door behind them shut with magic. She leapt down the stairs, racing past the bench where she’d left Spike the night before, chasing the rainbow tail in front of her around a turn, down another set of stairs and doubling back through another hallway.

From an open doorway ahead, a cacophony of excited and playful voices was cut to silence by the Captain’s booming voice. “Quarter speed and ease us down to skim-line! NOW, you oil-soaked pigeons!”

Twilight stumbled into Dash’s flank as she rounded the corner and found a strange display, shocked to stillness. They stood in the entrance to a large room, well-lit by three large windows set into the front of the airship, providing an excellent view of the sweeping panorama of sky and ocean before them. A young and startled-looking pegasus pony stood before a modest yet complex bank of electronics. He was easing back a pair of levers while a striped and colorful gryphon next to him rapidly flicked switches.

They were far from alone. The cabin actually looked crowded. Pinkie Pie was picking herself up off the floor. It looked as though she’d been spattered with oatmeal and had been laughing hysterically. None of which, knowing Pinkie Pie, was out of the ordinary. On the far side of the cabin, Applejack had a rope around Spike, who was holding her large and worn western-style hat. A trio of other crew members Twilight hadn’t met, all gryphons, looked on in stunned silence, wondering what was going on.

Twilight clutched onto a nearby rail, expecting the nose of the airship to tip forward, but they stayed level as they began descent. She suddenly felt lighter, and she was reminded forcibly of the small moving-room in Nova Coltia’s Town Hall.

Thistle prowled forward. “Clear Sky. How is our bird holding up?” His civil tone didn’t mask his anger so much as provide a frame for it.

“Um. . . G-Green across the board, Sir.” The poor pegasus scanned his instruments frantically, searching for his mistake.

“Oh?” Thistle loomed over the helmspony.

“Sir? Velocity and altitude were holding steady. Fuel stable, temperatures just below the red, as you instructed.” He ran a deep-brown hoof through his light blue mane. He sounded frightened. “I’m not sure. . .”

“What you missed?” Thistle’s voice rose in volume. “Did you see a power spike to forward engines one and two?”

“I didn’t see any power spike, Sir.”

“Because it didn’t happen or because you weren’t looking?”

“Because I wasn’t looking, Sir.” A faint flush shone through his coat.

Thistle’s voice lost its edge. His words were tinged with exhaustion as he said, “Kelbrri, cut power to forward engine three.” Grim, meaningful glances were exchanged throughout the cabin.

“But, engine thrrree is rrruning fine, Sir.” Said the vibrant yellow/green/red striped gryphon with the regal accent. She complied while she protested, however.

“I’ll bet it’s running fine.” Thistle’s crest flattened against his skull. “But it isn’t doing much good without blades.”

Spike shrugged out of Applejack’s impromptu lasso and gave her back her hat. Then he waddled his way back to Twilight and clambered atop her back. Applejack didn’t bother putting her hat back on. She just held it in front of her chest as she appealed to the Captain. “I’m awful sorry Captain. The blame properly belongs over here. We were bein’ a mite distractin. . .”

The Captain ignored her. “Sky, find Cloud and send her in. She should be on her way anyhow. Then find Summer Reeds and send her in too. Then I want you to hit the hay. You’ll be pulling a triple shift starting at 1800, so get your rest now.”

The other crew members cringed at the punishment, but Sky just nodded. “Yes Sir.” he turned away from the controls, leaving Thistle at the wheel. Twilight wasn’t certain how to react, since she technically hadn’t met this pony before. But she didn’t have time to consult her copy of Friendship Etiquettes and Guidelines 7th Edition even if she had brought it along. However, she figured that erring on the side of kindness couldn’t be too ill-mannered. So she put out a silent hoof as Clear Sky walked past, and she offered him a sympathetic smile. Rather than hurry past or take offense, he offered her a small, sad smile in return.

Rainbow trotted up to the big windows, but directed her question towards Thistle. “Hey, we’re still in the air. Can’t we just keep flying?”

Thistle sighed and stared out the window at the blue-green expanse of ocean rising up to meet them. He placed a foreclaw over his face and held it there for a bit before shaking his thoughts loose. “Possibly.” He said. “But the simple truth is that we just didn’t run through the right tests. I never dreamed we’d disembark on the run. Always figured we’d slip out quietly at dusk, even if this ship deserved fireworks and champagne. I never thought to push her at flank speed for a day. You said the fan blades just stripped clean off?”

“Yeah. I could see the gouges left in the walls where the blades had hit. Guess they’re at the bottom of the ocean by now.”

Applejack donned her hat. “Maybe the fan blades weren’t rightly balanced ta begin with.” Everyone turned to look at her. “I mean, wouldn’t that do it?”

Thistle’s brow creased. “Rainbow Dash, did you notice if the flywheel was intact?”

Dash blinked.

“The center of the turbine, did it still look like the others?”

“Oh, yeah. Exactly the same.”

Thistle said, “I’m convinced an imbalance would have shattered the down-rod. I’m afraid the metals we used just weren’t strong enough for these kinds of stresses. And now the other two forward engines will have to work harder to keep us afloat.”

Twilight spoke up from the doorway. “Can it be fixed?”

“Of course.” Said a gruff voice from behind her. Twilight leapt out of the way as a mottled steel-colored gryphon paced into the room like she owned it. “Anything can be fixed. We’ve got parts enough in the hold to rebuild half of this ship.”

“But no dry dock.” Thistle added. “Friends, this is Clouded Gaze, First Helmsgryph.”

Twilight perked a little bit. She knew the process for making new friends by heart. Step one? Introduce yourself with a smile. “Nice to meet you. I’m Twilight Sparkle.”

“Great.” Cloud grumbled as she took Thistle’s place. Twilight recoiled a bit in shock. That’s not how it was supposed to go.

Pinkie Pie noticed too. She said, “Hey, that’s not how it’s supposed to go! You say ‘Pleased to meet you!’ or something of equal or nicer value!” Cloud didn’t respond, but the glance she tossed Pinkie’s way caused the party pony’s eyes to widen, her ears to flatten, and she mimed zipping her lips, locking them and and setting fire to the key.

“Can we replace it in the air?” Dash asked. “Have someone fly out there or something?”

Applejack grew solemn. “That sounds mighty difficult, not ta mention dangerous.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” Thistle replied. “But it is possible. I’m just trying to figure out how to keep it from being suicide.” The Captain paced the deck, his talons clicking on the floor with each step. “We have the parts, the tools, and the know-how. We’ve got more than enough ropes and harnesses. The real danger is dropping anything or anyone overboard. One of those turbine fans weighs more than I do, and we only brought one replacement.”

Twilight’s eyes lit up. “You know, I think I have a spell or two that might help.”

A couple of hours later, most of the crew of Aether's Vigil had gathered on the forward deck beneath the bright midday sun. With the Vigil at a near standstill there was no wind to contend with. Rarity and Sun Shade had even set up a small table laden with sandwiches and tea. Applejack kept them company as they took in the beautiful day and carried on a friendly debate between Sun Shade's elegant parasol and Applejack's reliable Stetson. Pinkie Pie tried to see how far she could lean over the railing and Rainbow Dash threatened not to catch her if she fell. Spike took in the view with wide eyes, holding the rail and rocking back and forth on his heels.

Twilight couldn't resist taking a peek herself. It was tough to tell, but it seemed the fall to the water's surface wasn't quite the drop that, say, a leap off of Canterlot's balconies would provide. but it was close. She edged back from the rail.

To one side of the deck a portion of the crew had gathered, surrounding a pile of tools, parts and coils of rope. Princess Luna had joined Thistle Down and a deep blue unicorn introduced to everyone as Summer Reeds, First Tinker aboard the Vigil. Her green mane was streaked with white and disheveled, and her hooves were stained with the ghosts of oil and grime.

"You're certain you can fix this in less than an hour?" Thistle asked.

"I'll be certain when I see the damage first-hoof." She spoke with shades of an accent, possibly rural Mane. Her 'R's seemed to lose their way and come out of her nose. "If that purple filly over there can pull off the spells she says she can, it should be fast work."

Twilight nodded, rejoining the group. "I've practiced these spells often enough. We shouldn't have any trouble. It just might feel. . . strange."

"I'll say." Summer checked her harness one more time. "This'll be one for the books." She began slipping tools into her tool belt as though she was arming herself for battle.

Thistle received a ready signal from Kelbrri, having stationed herself at the crane controls. Nodding, he pitched his voice across the ship. "Ms. . . Rainbow Dash? We're ready!"

Dash hoofed the rest of her sandwich over to Pinkie Pie, who downed it in one bite. Dash trotted over. "Where do you need me, Captain?"

Thistle pointed to a rope coiled nearby. "That's the anchor rope. We need it to circle under the hull and attach back here. Just mind the turbines still running."

"Got it." Dash grabbed the end in her jaws and flung herself overboard, reappearing on the far side less than a second later. There were general gasps and murmurs from anyone paying attention, clear admiration for the young mare's speed. But Rainbow Dash didn't waste time posing, preening or otherwise basking in the praise. She simply offered the other end of the rope to Thistle, who quickly hauled in the slack and started tying it off. Twilight smiled in genuine admiration, but not at Dash's speed.

Thistle turned to Twilight. "Have you double-checked your harness, Ms. Sparkle?"

"I quadruple-checked it, but feel free to quintuple-check me. This is my first time doing something like this." Twilight still wore the same safety harness Sun Shade had helped her put on the night before; they'd just added a couple more well-placed carabineers.

Thistle did so, examining every buckle and strap. Nodding, he waved to Kelbrri, and the crane arm juttered to life, unfurling and swiveling, shaking the deck with a deep thrum. Twilight's wide eyes took it all in, watching every gear and joint move together in harmony. A steel cable unspooled from the tip and lowered towards the Captain's outstretched talons. He caught it and fastened the end to the replacement turbine gleaming in the sun. It was almost twice as long as Twilight herself, and it looked like it weighed a ton.

"Twilight Sparkle." Although Luna stood in full sunlight, she appeared a little shaded, as though the light were reluctant to intrude upon the Princess's personal space. "We offer our assistance in this endeavor. Wouldst thou accept it?"

Twilight pondered Luna's choice of words. She seems to think my honor rides on this, or something. Then another thought occurred to her. Wait, does it? Oh ponyfeathers, what's the right answer? "Thank you, your Highness, but. . . I'll be okay."

"Didst thou not drown last night? Twilight, such things exact a toll upon the spirit." Twilight's brow furrowed, but she said nothing. Luna continued. "Are you certain you do not desire aid today?"

Twilight squared her shoulders. "I know I can do this, your Highness."

For the first time since last Nightmare Night, Twilight saw the Princess of the Moon smile. "As do we, Element Bearer. Despite our sister's soft teaching, we find steel within thee. Thou shall succeed. Although we are happy to see that the safety lines have been doubled."

Twilight felt a small weight lift off her back. "Thank you, your Highness." I think.

"We're ready over here!" Summer Reeds had secured her harness to Dash's rope and she perched on the edge, ready to drop.

"Be careful, Twilight." Spike said, appearing at her side.

She smiled reassurance at him. "I'll be okay. Worst-case scenario, somepony goes for a swim." Twilight ruffled his head and walked over to where Summer waited. The blue unicorn nodded and lowered herself gently over the side, slowing her descent with her hooves. Twilight attached both of her safety lines and re-checked all her fastenings. Then she lifted herself over the cold steel rail, waved to her friends, carefully grasped the rope before her, and with a DZZZZZZT sound and a surprised yell she dropped out of sight.

The rope slipped away too fast. She couldn't get a hold of it. The side of the airship blurred past. The guide rope curved under the ship, altering her trajectory without slowing her free fall. She glanced down in time to see Summer Reeds cringe and then she stopped. There was nothing but the sound of her adrenaline-fueled breathing, the hum of the engines, and the soft flapping of pegasus wings.

"I think the idea was to let yourself down slowly." Rainbow Dash's voice was right behind Twilight's ear, and her hooves were under her arms. She sounded like she was holding back laughter.

Twilight chuckled weakly. "I'll remember that for next time. Thanks for the save Rainbow, I owe you one." She checked her head self-consciously to make sure her crown-thingy hadn't fallen off. It hadn't. Twilight wondered for a brief moment if it had permanently attached itself to her head. That would be weird.

"Actually," Summer said, "I think I'm the one who owes you, Rainbow. I'll buy you a drink tonight, whatever you like." Whatevah you like. "How's that sound?"

Dash let Twilight take her own weight. "But, there's no charge for food or drinks. . ."

"Then I'll buy ya two."

Rainbow Dash grinned. "You got it." She flew back up to the deck.

The underside of the ship consisted of long planks of wood, curved and fitted so as to look nearly seamless. Twilight studied the planks so that she wouldn't study the drop below them. She followed the pony ahead of her, crawling along the rope like an inchworm. At least it's nice being out of the sun for awhile. She thought. Maybe I can borrow somepony's parasol for the rest of the day. I didn't realize I'd been slow-cooking myself all morning.

Summer Reeds stopped at a large, circular hole in the bottom of the ship, and Twilight peered upwards behind her. They could both see the center of the turbine and the shredded edges where the blades had peeled off. "Okay," Twilight steadied herself atop the rope. "Are you ready?"

Summer nodded absently. "Yeah."

"Hold on." Twilight's horn began to glow, and after a few moments the unicorn before her swung around the rope and fell upwards, her mane and tail trailing against the deck of the ship. Summer let go, setting her hooves against the bottom of the airship. She laughed in wonder. "Well, if that isn't wicked amazing!" She leapt off the hull and landed lightly on her hooves again. "It's like I stayed the same and the world went all topsy-turvey." Her smile vanished and she glanced around nervously, crouching a little.

Twilight's horn continued to glow. "Don't worry, you can't fall off the planet. Even if I kept the spell going, my magic wouldn't reach that far."

"Who said I was worried?" She trotted carefully over to the hole and peered in, sliding her safety line along with her. "Oh yah, this looks doable. Hmmm." She reached in and started feeling around. "Sure. Let me just get this out of here." She reached into her belt, pulled out a tool, and it immediately fell out of her grasp and towards the water below. "Oh, hoof me!"

Twilight was ready, and she caught the tool with another spell before it fell too far. "The gravity spell doesn't extend too far. You'll have to hang on to these." She levitated it back to the startled tinker.

"This is trippy." Summer took the tool back with her own magic. "Thanks."

"No problem." Twilight maintained the spell and tried to make herself comfortable as Dash flew by again, holding a second rope. Glancing behind her, she saw the new turbine being lowered by the crane, and Dash hooking the second rope to it. She flew back up out of sight.

The work went fast, with Summer Reeds removing the damaged parts and tossing them into the ocean below. The crew above helped haul the new piece into place with Dash telling them when to stop and when to pull, and they managed to hoist the new part into place using their combined magic and Dash's wingpower.

Twilight had broken into a sweat holding the gravity spell and the levitation steady, but she kept her mind clear and let the power flow through her horn. Out of the corner of her eye something caught her attention. Carefully, very carefully, she turned her head to look at the ocean far below her.

Something had broken the surface. Small, sleek forms leapt out of the water, dozens of them, all headed in the same direction. Even from a distance, they appeared playful, maybe even beautiful. Twilight held her breath in wonder. They formed a rough pattern, like water cascading over stones. She wondered if they were friendly.

"Almost got it. . . Okay, it's attached at least." Summer wiped sweat off her brow with a greasy hoof, leaving a streak across her forehead that would make Rarity twitch. "Help me detach the ropes, Rainbow, and tell the Captain we're almost through."

Twilight dropped her levitation spell with a sigh and asked, "What are those?"

Her two companions stopped to look down. "Woah." Dash's eyes flew wide.

"Oh, those're probably dolphins." Summer had already turned back to her work. "Smart enough swimmin' critters, but they eat the same fish the gryphons like. I don't mind them, though. I think they're pretty."

"I'm gonna get a closer look."

Before Rainbow could take off Summer stuck her head out of the hole. "Hold up a second. We've got some work here to finish, can we focus on. . ."

"WOW!" Dash interrupted, pointing.

Twilight followed her hoof and saw a much larger shape, long and knobbly, break the surface behind them. It was hard to say for sure, but this new creature looked larger than the airship. Twilight's heart sped up, and her brain felt stunned at the sight. There was a wet sound, a burst of air, and a hole at the top of this monster sprayed a geyser of mist and water up into the air. Twilight had never felt so small. She clutched the rope and held on, focusing on maintaining her spell if nothing else. The enormous shape had been joined by another, and another.

"So, what are those?" Dash asked, without the slightest trace of fear.

Summer opened her mouth, and then closed it again. She shook her head, her mane swaying against gravity. "Um, bigger dolphins? I dunno." She said softly. Ever so faintly, they heard voices shouting up on the deck. They must have seen them too. Suddenly Twilight wanted very much to stay out of the water. The reality of her ignorance about the sea hit her hard. Why wasn't anypony out here studying? There were now a dozen of those things, maybe more.

Summer shook herself and got sluggishly back to work. She disengaged the support lines from the turbine and re-clipped the rope one to herself, and the steel cable from the crane she offered to Twilight, who took it with her magic and clasped it to herself. When they were finished, the lines would be used to haul both unicorns back up either side of the airship to the safety of the flight deck. "Um, could you tell the Captain how we're doing, Rainbow?"

"Sure." Dash still sounded distracted, but she flew back up and out of sight.

The tinker turned back to her work, levitating a pair of tools and what looked like a container of grease. "Almost set here." She said, her voice sounding hollow as it resounded out of the hole. "Maybe this is a little morbid to say, but if this engine turned on right now I think I'd be powdered unicorn in a blink. What would make a pony think that, I wonder?" No response from Twilight. "Yeah, I guess it's a silly thing. I always seem to imagine the worst-case scenario. My brother used to call me a worry-wart growing up. . . But what does he know, right?" Still no response. "Well, I think we're about done here. We've earned a few drinks, haven't we?" Summer heard a strange rushing sound, like a river or a waterfall. She peeked over the rim.

Everything she'd been holding dropped into the no-longer still ocean far below. Twilight had paled with fear, and her whole body shook, clinging desperately to the rope beneath her.

Far below them the gigantic creatures had scattered, swimming away from a literal mountain that had broken the surface in their midst, pushing the water upwards in a massive swell. The rough ridge would have to be measured in miles, and it had emerged like magic, an island in the sea. A few of of the great creatures wound up stranded upon its surface, lifted high into the air as their companions fled.

The landmass before them already towered over the airship itself, and the water sloughing off its surface created a roar of sound that drowned out everything else. It was covered in clusters of small, white bumps and seaweed and all manner of strange creatures. The smell of the ocean grew overwhelmingly sharp.

It was approaching the airship at an alarming rate. "MOVE!" Summer shouted, throwing herself over the edge of the hole and grabbing Twilight by the tail. Twilight let herself be dragged along, her carabineers scraping the rope while Summer galloped upside-down along the hull of the ship towards the far side, skirting the middle engine, its spinning blades a silver blur. In an instant, one of Twilight's safety lines snapped taut, hauling herself and Summer to a standstill. Twilight fumbled at her harness. "Here!" Summer Reeds appeared at her side, disengaging the link with a quick twist of a hoof and letting the crane's steel cable swing free. Then she grabbed Twilight and kept running.

Twilight watched as the colossal mass drew closer and closer, wondering what spell she had that might help them but she'd hesitated too long and the entire airship jostled with a mighty crash making Summer miss her footing and sprawl upon the deck and slide towards the last engine. With a soft and sickening buzz her tail vanished into the blades before Twilight dropped her spell and Summer Reeds fell towards the planet, gasping and hanging by her harness.

Twilight glimpsed another swell, far ahead of the mountain behind them. The ocean rising up in a globe far, far too large to be real. And beneath the surface a second mountain could be glimpsed.

A mountain larger than Ponyville.

One shaped vaguely like a head.

With a maw that could swallow everything.

Absolutely everything.

It wasn't a landmass at all.

Twilight may have screamed, she wasn't sure, but she cast her gravity spell on both of them and flipped neatly through the air, landing easily on her hooves. Summer fell upwards badly, hitting her head. She didn't move right away, so Twilight grabbed her companion by the harness and dragged her forward, sliding downwards (upwards?) as the hull curved, dropping them down (up?) zipping along the rope as it flung them back onto the deck. Twilight released both of her spells and they collapsed together in a heap.

The forward deck was overshadowed by the mountainous ridge that loomed over them all. Most of the crew couldn't be seen, but Rarity stood her ground, facing the edifice with her horn and the jewel at her throat aglow. She seemed to be trying to push the airship away, with limited results. Rainbow Dash and Sun Shade stood by her side, ready to protect her if they needed to. If they could.

The colorful gryphon from earlier, Kelbrri, rushed over, helping Twilight detach their harnesses from the rope. "You must get inside! It will be saferr therre!" She trilled.

Summer still hadn't gotten up. Twilight glanced around the deck. "Where's Luna?"

"She flew frrom the deck! I don't know what she intends to do! Come quickly!"

"No!" Twilight gestured towards the door. "Help her!" With that, she turned and lunged towards her friends. She only made it halfway before the airship turned abruptly, and the deck flew out from under her hooves. As she slid, the time seemed to slow down to a crawl. Her friends were right near the edge, in the greatest danger of falling overboard. But Kelbrri behind her hadn't made it off the deck carrying the unconscious Summer, and both of them were in danger too.

She seemed to have all the time in existence to think, but she only had time to cast one spell. I have to trust my friends. She arched her head backwards and her horn blazed to life, enveloping Kelbrri and the unconscious unicorn across her back in purple light and stopping their uncontrolled slide. With a mental shove, Twilight pushed them through the open hatch behind them and into safety.

Twilight hit the guardrail with her back, hard enough to stun her. Her momentum flipped her over the rail and into open air. The world spun past her, the blue of the sky blurring into the bulk of the colossus and the side of the airship. Until everything tinged with ivory and stopped spinning. She floated gracefully back aboard the airship cradled in Rarity's magic.

As the airship sped away to a safe distance, Rarity brought Twilight close enough for Dash to grab her in her sky-blue hooves. Twilight noticed that all of her friends had been tethered to the deck with quick loops of rope. She sighed in relief.

As the airship attained a safer distance it slowed and turned, far gentler this time. Twilight looked over the rail and saw a small speck of black just above the water's surface, at the foot of the mountain that had emerged from the deep. From a distance, it might have looked like a shell of some sort. One that would flatten Canterlot without trouble. Twilight remembered an obscure bit of information about ice, and how much of it would be visible above water, and her heart fluttered in her chest. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe.

"Hey, it's sinking!" Rainbow Dash called out, breaking the silence. "Way to go Luna!"

Sun Shade's voice quavered a little. "I am astonished. And I am not easily astonished."

"I think I may require more tea after this." Rarity said breathlessly.

There was a small flash behind them and the four ponies turned to find Princess Luna standing behind them, dripping wet from crest to hooves, levitating a long metal pole before them, maybe three or four pony-lengths. It too was dripping wet. She breathed easily, as though she'd only nipped out for a walk through a park. "The leviathan has gone." She said, setting the pole down before Sun Shade. "Our thanks for allowing us use of your weapon."

Twilight's ears perked in interest as Sun Shade lifted the pole in her hooves. With a deft twist it telescoped into itself, and she slid it into the unbloomed-flower of fabric slung across her shoulder.

Twilight's eyebrows shot skyward. "That was a piece of your parasol?"

Sun Shade smiled coyly. "Oh, you couldn't buy this parasol in a Hayrrod's, darling. It's custom-made."

Dash crouched in excitement. "And you beat that thing down with it? That's so awesome I can't even stand it!" She said, squishing her cheeks in her hooves.

"We did not 'beat it down,' Rainbow Dash."

"Poke it in its giant eyeball?"

"Neither didst we do that."

"Oh." Dash thought for a moment before giving Princess Luna a quizzical look.

"We sang to it."

Twilight thought she understood. "You sang to it, and you needed the pole to channel the vibrations underwater."

"Yes, something akin to that." Luna smiled again.

"That's incredible." Twilight shook her head. As they untethered themselves and headed back in towards the safety of the airship's interior, Twilight posed another question. "How did you know what song to sing?"

Luna's gaze darkened with remembered sorrow. "Didst our sister describe to thee our history? Our origins?"

"Yes." Twilight said.

"When we first crossed the Great Sea so very long ago, we did not do so by air, Twilight Sparkle. We lost more than one ship before my sister and I discovered the Songs of the Leviathans and what they might mean. Had we not found a way to calm them, perhaps every life in our care would have been lost."

Twilight pondered this in silence as they shut the hatchway behind them and continued into the ship. A wave of exhaustion crashed over the purple unicorn and she stumbled. In a blink Rarity was at her side, holding her up as she regained her footing. Their eyes met and Rarity smiled, a warm and affectionate thing full of concern. Twilight smiled tiredly back. Thistle bounded into view from the stairs. "Twilight! Is engine three fixed?"

Twilight's face scrunched up in thought, trying to remember what happened before her whole world turned upside-down. In, well, in multiple ways. "Um, I'm pretty certain Summer said 'We're done here.' before all the, uh. . . excitement started."

Thistle's eyes grew very serious. "Almost certain or certain?"

Twilight reviewed her memory again. Nodding decisively, she said, "Certain."

Thistle's beak cracked into a broad grin. "Excellent." He turned back down the stairs.

"Rarity, Rainbow Dash," Luna's voice had warmed considerably. "Please ensure that our Twilight Sparkle is provided food, drink and ample rest." Her eyes bored into Twilight's with a familiar intensity. Celestia always looked at her the same way. "Thou acquitted thyself well today. Were thou our student, we would be pleased."

"Thank you, your Highness." Twilight felt the exertion of the day pile atop her, and a deep ache began to radiate from her horn and through her skull. But it didn't do much to drag her spirits down. The prospect of food and a nap was incredibly reassuring.

"Come Twilight, we will get you washed up." Rarity said.

"Hmmm?" Twilight was mildly confused by that statement, until she glanced down and found blood staining her hooves. Summer's blood. She suddenly felt a little sick.

Despite the fact that she didn't taste any of it, Twilight managed to wolf down enough food to feed two of her. Applejack commented as such, several times, comparing her appetite to her brother's. A number of compliments were exchanged, involving Rarity's bravery, Dash's speed, Sun Shade's parasol and Twilight's magic. Spike in particular couldn't stop talking about the leviathan they'd seen. "I always thought dragons were the largest creatures on the planet!"

Applejack reclined with her hat tipped forward to cover most of her face while she spoke. "I reckon you've been knocked down a peg or three there, shortstuff."

"Wow!" Dash seemed even more energetic than usual. "I mean, that thing was. . . it was just so. . . just really, really. . . huge!"

Rarity's eyes sparkled. "Your eloquence is staggering, Rainbow Dash."

"Thanks!" Dash replied, missing the sarcasm entirely.

"That was the most cooleriffic thing ever!" Pinkie Pie added. "I wish I could have met it, introduced myself. I wonder what it eats. . ."

"Us, you sugar-fueled nitwit!" Dash exclaimed.

"Silly Dashie! If all it eats is 'us' I'm guessing it must be mighty hungry. We haven't been eaten at all!"

"Hey," Twilight interrupted, "Where's Fluttershy?"

The atmosphere, previously giddy with the relief that accompanies survival, turned somber very quickly. Rarity recovered her poise first, "Let's go and visit her, shall we?"

The companions made their way through the airship, down a pair of corridors Twilight recognized. She began to worry when she realized they were headed to the infirmary, but the door to the room before the infirmary was open, revealing a small room with a bed. Twilight instantly recognized Pin Feather, and she stopped in the entryway.

Pin Feather shifted, revealing the form of Summer Reeds, her head resting on an icepack. She lay on her side, and Feather was bandaging what was left of her tail. Twilight's breath seemed to catch in her throat. She swallowed hard. "Is she going to be okay?"

"Oh, hey Sparkler! Yeah yeah, she's fine. Here. . ." He reached over to a nearby tray and picked up a vial, unstopping it and waving it underneath the unicorn's nose.

"BUCK A BEEHIVE!" Summer thrashed awake, knocking the vial from Pin Feather's talons. "Ugh, that stuff's nasty! 's the matter with you?"

"Like I said, she's fine." Pin Feather grinned over his shoulder.

Twilight laughed in relief. "Good to know. Thanks." Rarity touched her shoulder and motioned Twilight forward. In the next room, Twilight found Princess Celestia exactly as she had last seen her, stretched out unceremoniously on the cot against the wall of the infirmary. Curled up against her was Fluttershy's small, yellow form. It only took a moment to notice that something was wrong. Twilight glanced around for her friends, but they stayed in the hallway.

"Fluttershy?" Twilight's concern didn't seem to touch the pegasus. She stepped closer. "What's wrong, Fluttershy?" She reached out a gentle hoof, but when she touched her friend's shoulder she twitched away so violently that Twilight recoiled too. Her eyes filled with tears. "Ev. . . Everypony's okay. We're all okay. There's nothing to worry about. The big creature is gone. Luna sang it away." All Fluttershy did was curl up into herself a little tighter.

Rarity's soft voice carried from the doorway. "She hasn't been herself since we boarded, actually. Neither Sun Shade nor I could reach her, though we spent most of the night with her. I'm at something of a loss."

"Not jus' bein' on this here airship." Applejack stepped inside, standing next to Twilight. "It's been ever since our tussle in the woods last night. Remember?"

Twilight did remember. In fact, she remembered it vividly. And Fluttershy had seemed more upset than anyone else. "Oh Fluttershy. . . Talk to us. Please."

Fluttershy didn't move and she didn't speak. Twilight reached out a hoof again, but she maintained the contact even when her friend twitched away. It felt like all her muscles were shaking beneath her fur. Twilight nodded to herself. "AJ, can you find another bed to squeeze in here?" Applejack ducked out. "I'm going to stay."

"Me too." Spike added, his wide eyes reflecting the light from the porthole beyond.

"Of course." Twilight smiled fondly down at him. "We both will."

Night had just begun to fall when Twilight felt a stirring next to her. She lifted her head and, with an effort of will that brought her headache back twofold, she lit the room with a soft glow. Fluttershy was gone, the space where she'd been curled up was still warm. Spike slept soundly; he hadn't twitched a muscle. Maybe she just went for a walk? That thought was little comfort. But just as Twilight was going to get up to look for her she heard a warm voice resonate in the darkness.

"Twilight?"

Celestia had awoken.

13: Stargazing

"Twilight Sparkle." Celestia embraced her student in the darkness, radiating relief. Twilight hesitated before nuzzling her back. She nearly laughed out loud in sheer relief. Everything was going to be okay again. Everything was finally back under control.

Spike stirred. "Nggh. . . Twilight, what's. . . Holy guacamole!" Spike rubbed and blinked his wide, green eyes in the gentle light from Twilight's horn.

"Hello Spike." Celestia reached out a golden-shod hoof to touch the young dragon's shoulder. "Thank you, both of you. I'm comforted knowing that my faithful student and her number one assistant have been watching over me."

Spike blushed. "Well, it was less 'watching over' and more 'snoozing next to,' but I get what you're saying."

"Princess, I'm so glad you're awake! We have kind of a strange problem." Twilight tried to backtrack through everything that had happened since she had last spoken to her mentor. "You've missed quite a lot, actually."

Celestia slowly and gracefully rolled to her hooves, finding her footing on the small bit of floor beyond the two cots. As Twilight's words sunk in, her expression turned grave. Celestia's eyes darted around the room, as though memories fluttered like moths about her head. "I believe I have. I remember an overwhelming darkness. . . I remember falling. . . Twilight, what happened? How did I survive? Did you. . ." The Princess eyed Twilight askance.

Twilight shook her head quickly. "Oh, no. It wasn't me, your Highness. I never even saw whatever it was you were fighting. I was too busy trying not to drown King Rirton."

Celestia's head snapped upright, her eyes widening. "I have missed quite a lot, haven't I?"

"You have no idea, your Highness. From the sounds of it, your sister found you just in time, and she scared. . ." Princess Celestia's eyes hardened and she stalked out into the hallway. "Celestia, wait!" Twilight hurried to join her, Spike by her side.

Celestia glanced to each side before choosing a direction and walking, determination in her strides. "What is my sister doing here?"

Twilight hurried to keep up, with Celestia's pace as well as her shift in mood. "Well, that's just it, your Highness. We think it's your sister. I mean, we're pretty certain. . ." Twilight ran out of steam as she floundered for words.

Spike took up the thread as Twilight dropped it. "But, now that you're awake, it'll be safe for us to find out if she's a dirty changeling or something, right? Or safer, at least."

Celestia was silent, her ethereal mane flowing in it's own silent breeze rather than swaying with her steps. Those steps brought them unerringly to the stairs to the upper deck. Twilight asked aloud, "Princess, how do you know where she is?"

"If I know my sister, she'll be somewhere she doesn't have to socialize. Probably someplace she can watch for danger at the same time."

Twilight nodded, respecting the analysis. Celestia's horn wreathed itself in a warm glow, and the hatch above them swung inward. Twilight instinctively braced herself for another wrestling match with high winds, but as they ascended the stairs out into the star-speckled night, she found something more like a stiff breeze. The airship continued its journey into the east, but at a gentler pace.

Princess Luna stood at the prow of the ship, but she had turned, and her stance radiated concern and relief without losing one ounce of the grace Luna may very well have been born with. Luna's dark form was framed by an illimitable panorama of glittering stars keeping silent watch in the night sky above her. Perhaps it was Twilight's imagination, or the height the Vigil flew at, but the full moon hanging in the sky above appeared larger than Twilight had ever remembered it before. As the three of them approached, Luna's eyes stayed locked upon her sister. In the soft light from the moon above, Twilight thought that maybe she'd caught a glimpse of a tear. Then again, maybe not.

Celestia's voice cut harshly through the night. "Luna. What are you doing here?"

Spike, having just clambered up to his usual perch atop Twilight's back, froze in place upon hearing Celestia's tone. If Luna was offended by her sister's anger, it didn't show. "We are here to help." She said. "We are here to fight."

"And what of our subjects, dear sister? We agreed that. . ."

Luna cut her off. "Perchance thou agreed. Canterlot remains warded. We have recalled Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armor from their tryst in Jamareca. Equestria shall stand in our absence."

"They are no substitute for the power you wield, sister." Celestia sighed. "However, they are formidable together." She faced Luna unrelentingly, her breaths even and measured in the steady breeze. Eventually she spoke, "Still, you should not be here."

"Dost thou truly believe thou art a match for the Darkness? Alone?" Luna stepped closer.

"We both know that I am not. Nor am I alone here." Celestia replied, "You must understand I had no desire to risk you, little sister."

Luna's voice softened further as she came to a stop face-to-face with Celestia. "We are all at risk, sister mine. We have accepted this, but it seems thou hasn't. Every small and beautiful thing in this world lies in danger."

Celestia's voice thickened with sorrow, and her gaze softened. "That does not justify me throwing others into harm's way. . ."

Luna reached out a hoof. "Sister, we have forgiven you this."

Celestia nodded her head forward, bringing their horns together beneath the moon. "I know."

Twilight turned away, suddenly feeling like an intruder upon some deep connection. She shared a glance with her scaly companion, who smiled at her and nuzzled himself sleepily into her mane. Twilight turned to study the cloudless expanse of stars above them. Forgive her for what, I wonder? Banishing her sister to the moon? No. . . that's not it. She threw somepony into harms way.

Celestia's voice swept like a melody through the wind. Her concern was palpable. "When I say 'risk,' I do not speak only of physical harm."

"Nor do we." Luna asserted. "Yet we have traveled the pathways of ill and spite and have returned to your side. There is much we have learned." She stepped back from her sibling. "And yet thou appear unhappy to see us? For shame, sister."

"I apologize, dearest Luna. I am grateful to see you."

"And grateful we were timely enough to hoist thy flank out of the snake pit?"

Celestia smiled at that. "Of course."

Luna's gaze tracked the deck and came to rest upon Twilight. "Perchance now thou wouldst consent to widening thy pupil's field of instruction. . ."

Celestia's smile fled. "No." Her rebuttal was delivered like a blow. "You know the dangers. . ."

"And thou art aware of the potential!"

Celestia turned a look full of concern towards Twilight. Concern and maybe a little fear. "I will not have it."

"There exists a balance, dear sister."

"Precarious at best!"

"Thou wouldst die bathed in the holiness of light rather than. . ."

"Rather than what?" Celestia stood tall and proud beneath the scrutiny of the moonlight. "Compromise my soul? My spirit?" The two faced one another, Luna's shadowed visage unreadable. Celestia's radiance as still as marble. "I will not have it." She repeated very softly.

Luna's words sounded cold and distant. "Thou wouldst gird thyself for battle without sharpening thy weapons. A fatal sentiment, we fear."

"Twilight. Spike." Celestia's soft voice thinly veiled the steel in her words. "I would like to speak with my sister alone please."

Twilight didn't want to leave. A thought had captured her. Princess Luna wants me as a student? She found herself approaching the pair of alicorns, captivated by the same curiosity that drove her back to her studies again and again and again; an endless fascination with the secrets of the world. She was surprised to find her mouth opening, forming words. "'Widening my field of instruction', Princess?"

Twilight glimpsed what might have been despair in Celestia's ancient eyes before the tension was shattered by the deck hatch bursting inward, releasing Pin Feather hopping and flapping like a startled blue jay. He was followed closely by a gruff and red-eyed Thistle Down.

Pin Feather was all afluster. "She's walking around?" He squawked. He actually squawked. "You can't just walk around!" He shouted at one half of the ruling diarchy of Equestria.

"I said cool it, Pins!" Thistle grabbed his friend by the tail with both foreclaws. "Our apologies, your Highness."

"She's got fractured ribs!" Pin Feather pulled uselessly against the larger gryphon's mass. Scowling at the futility of scrabbling for purchase on the pressure-treated wood of the deck, the gryphon held up an onyx claw towards Celestia. "Don't move, I'll be right there." He swiveled his head to point backwards over one wing. "She might've re-punctured a lung, you tech-obsessed magpie!"

"She's an immortal Goddess Pins," Thistle growled. "A little respect would be nice."

"Let me go, Sir! Or by Krearrk's huge, wrinkled b--"

"MANNERS!"

Pin Feather deflated instantly, his voice dropping to a chagrined trill. "I was going to say 'bellows.'"

The corners of Celestia's eyes crinkled as she smiled. "Captain. Pin Feather. It is nice to see you both again."

"Your Highnesses." Thistle bowed his head in greeting.

"Grr. . . fine!" Pin Feather made a complicated, yet inarticulate gesture with one foreclaw. "Your Sweet Celestialship, would you be so kind as to not do anything else stupi-GWAARRK!" Thistle gave his tail a twist.

Celestia may have been trying not to laugh. "Of course, First Medic. I wouldn't dream of placing myself between you and your duties." Pin Feather turned a sharp glare upon the Captain, who released his friend with a sigh. "However," She continued. "I assure you I have felt no pain since I have awoken."

The freed gryphon rushed over, studying Celestia's sides without touching them. "What about grinding?" Celestia shook her head. "Popping? Any peculiar sounds at all?" She shook her head again. "Um. . . shortness of breath?"

"I can report nothing of consequence." Celestia assured him.

"Hmmm. . ." He sat back on his haunches and and ran his spread talons gently across her soft, white coat. "That's the strangest thing." He pushed a little harder in several places. "The bones have fused. All of them. Two days and you're. . . You're practically healed up." He dropped back into a stunned sit, the steady breeze tousling his crest as his unfocused gaze drifted away. "Well. . . Isn't that something?"

"I told you Pins," Thistle popped Pin Feather a friendly punch on the shoulder. "I told you she'd be fine."

Twilight's eyes sparkled in wonder. "Did you speed your own healing? Princess, that's unbelievable!"

Celestia exchanged an inscrutable glance with her sister before turning suspicious eyes upon her student. "Yes, I suppose I did." Twilight's smile melted under the heat of that glare.

Pin Feather frowned. "Well, how was I supposed to. . . Gah! You alicorns with your Princess-y Powers and your weird, flowy manes and your. . . your. . . jewelery!" Celestia raised one eyebrow. "Well, you still need to rest!" He finished defensively.

Thistle Down sighed heavily and pinched his brow with a pair of blunted talons. "I swear to the stars I'm going to throw you overboard one of these days." From his tone, it was a threat he'd delivered before.

"Thank you for your help, and for your concern." Celestia said. "But I'm actually quite hungry."

"Oh!" Pin Feather brightened instantly. "I'll go fix you up something from the kitchen!"

Thistle stopped him with his good wing. "Remember the noodle incident? No kitchen, Pins. I'll fix the Princess something."

Pin Feather's crest fell. "Oh yeah, Right."

Twilight heard a loud gurgle from somewhere behind her, and she turned to give Spike a quizzical glance. The whelpling blushed sheepishly. "If you're hungry Spike, why don't you head in with the Princess?"

"But what about you, Twilight? You must be hungry too." He asked with wide-eyed concern.

She glanced towards Princess Luna before answering. "I'll be in soon Spike. Why don't you make me a plate of whatever you're having?"

Spike brightened a little. "Sure thing, Twilight!" He hopped nimbly off of her back and joined Celestia and Thistle Down.

"Noodle incident?" Celestia asked as she fell into step next to the Captain.

"More of an 'explosion' than an incident, your Highness." Thistle gestured to the open hatch, allowing Celestia to precede him. "Took us months to get the smell out. . ."

"Captain, is this related to the unexplained 40,000 bit charge for 'misc. fire-retardant bake ware' on the fiscal statement last Hearth-Warming Eve?"

"Oh, I can explain that. . ." He said as he shut the door behind them.

Princess Luna studied the moon. She took in the complex patterns the stars formed in the night sky above. Then she peered thoughtfully at Twilight, who was trying hard not to look like she was holding her breath. And then she glanced at Pin Feather, who still looked a bit dejected. He looked like he was about to say something, then thought better of it.

Luna turned to leave. "Wait," Twilight said. She still had so many questions. "Princess, what. . . what did you mean by 'widening my field of instruction?'"

The alicorn stopped, giving Twilight an appraising look. "Twilight Sparkle, your instructor and liege has expressly forbade us from answering that question." She turned to direct the full weight of her attention on the small purple pony. "Why do you counter her wishes?"

Twilight tried not to answer too quickly. She was acutely conscious of the fact that they weren't alone, and she had no idea how Princess Luna might react to anything she said. But she felt as though this was a chance she might not get again. A chance to explore the darkness of her ignorance in search of a spark. "Because. . . because she. . . I know she hasn't told me everything." The words were difficult at first, but they came more swiftly as she continued. "I mean, I'm her student, and she trusts me enough to tell me and my friends about her past, and about this horrible, formless thing we should all be scared of, but nopony even knows it exists!"

Twilight finally gave voice to the doubts that had plagued her ever since the mighty Queen Chrysalis cast Celestia down in her own throne room. The moment when she learned that Celestia could be beaten. "And the changelings wanted to stop us, but then they let us walk right out of their hive. And even though I think she knows why she wont tell me. Celestia claims she doesn't know what the changelings wanted with the Elements, but Applejack and I think she does. And I sucked all the life and magic out of an entire forest because I'd never even learned the simple fact that external magic can be manipulated. . ." Her eyes shone as she pleaded with the Princess of the Night. "It. . . I guess it just. . . I just want to be trusted with the truth." Twilight gulped as she ran out of words, fearing that she'd already said too much out loud.

Pin Feather just sat, shocked to a polite silence by Twilight's outburst. Luna didn't spare him a glance. She simply offered Twilight a smile full of understanding and sympathy. "Thou art astute, Twilight Sparkle, and thy reflections display clarity and presence of spirit. We mean this as high praise. We are aware of our sister's reasons for silence. We assure you they are good reasons, despite our belief that she is wrong." As her words sunk in Twilight bowed her head, and the breeze scattered her mane across her face. Luna reached out a gentle hoof and brushed Twilight's mane back, revealing a lost expression. "We agree with our sister on one subject, however. Starswirl's prophesy was quite accurate. Thou art a wonder, and thy softness belies thy strength. Trust thyself."

Twilight gasped. "Starswirl mentioned me? B-But that's impossible! I've read through all of his published works as well as his manuscripts in the Lunar Archives. He never mentioned me!"

"Surely thou recallest a passage concerning us? 'On the longest day of the thousandth year, the stars will aid in her escape,' ect."

"Of course, that passage was referenced in a copy of Predictions and Prophecies kept in the Canterlot Library. It meant that the stars would, um, free you from your banishment to the moon so you could return to Equestria. . . I mean, didn't they?"

Luna shook her head. "Dost thou mean the sky-jewels above us? No, the spell our sister cast using the Elements of Harmony simply wore off. She had only intended to seal us away from our source of power long enough for our vast puissance to wane. The Nightmare thou faced was but a wisp, a hollow wraith next to the strength we wielded during our. . . original disagreement."

Twilight blanched. Nightmare Moon's power at the time had seemed overwhelming. Then again, Twilight herself had grown stronger in the last two years. There's still no way I could have beaten her, even knowing what I do now. Wait, if the prophecy didn't refer to actual stars. . .

"But that means," Twilight glanced back at her cutie mark as though seeing it for the first time; a six-point star surrounded by five smaller stars.

"Yes, Twilight Sparkle. Thou art the beacon of harmony which liberated us from our despite and poisonous jealousy. We owe you much, my sister and I. Perchance we will yet sway our sister to believing she owes you the whole of the truth." Luna hesitated, uncertain. "Twilight, weren't thee aware thou'rt being forged as metal is forged into a weapon, keen and dangerous?"

Twilight thought hard, remembering the lessons, the training. The challenges which seemed enough to daunt a goddess sometimes, yet challenges which always seemed to fall solidly into her path. "I guess some part of me always knew, or at least suspected." Celestia had been her personal mentor for years now, but Twilight had always felt as though she'd been more than that. She was a guardian, and if Twilight let herself think the words possibly something of a mother. Yet all this time it seems Celestia had been more of a blacksmith, sharpening a dagger. Suddenly Twilight's jeweled crown felt impossibly heavy.

"Good. We are all made to exult in life, to resist the pull of oblivion. The darkened shores we approach shall doubtless challenge us to find answer, yet the Elements buoy us. We believe together we shalt discover an anodyne to corruption. We say again, Twilight Sparkle. Trust thyself."

When Luna turned to leave, nodding to a solemn Pin Feather as she passed, Twilight let her go. Instead, she let her companions leave as she trotted over to the nearest guardrail and flung her hooves over the side, staring up into the untrammeled whorls of the night sky. I don't want to be trained to fight. I don't want to live as a weapon. What kind of life is that? She thought to herself. She plucked the Element of Magic off of her head, studying it in her hooves. Moonlight glinted off of the purple gem set into the crown, just as it glinted off of the cold water far below. She imagined herself flinging it over the rail, having the weight of all that responsibility fall with it.

She knew she wouldn't do it. Then I'd be responsible for something else. Something worse. I'd be undermining our chances, and turning my back upon Harmony. She sighed to herself. And a part of me does want to fight. Ever since I discovered something worth fighting for. The images from her dream of changelings burnt to ash and cinders, the smell of charred flesh and oil-black smoke washed over her, and her heart fluttered in her chest. But. . . I can't believe Harmony will ever be preserved by violence. That's just. . . Maybe I just have to find another way to fight.

She was startled out of her musings by a figure approaching the rail next to her. She hadn't sensed Pin Feather walking up behind her until he appeared out of the gloom. He didn't say anything, he just stared up at the sky, sharing the silence. Twilight settled her Element back atop her head and glanced at the gryphon beside her. The cool, steady breeze played with his thick ruff of feathers and his flattened eartufts. Gone was the spastic, improper jester from before. This Pin Feather seemed pensive as his eyes slowly swept the sky.

"So." He finally said. "Celestia's keeping secrets from her subjects. I have to admit, I did not see that one coming."

Twilight cringed. She should have known better than to open her big mouth without having a private audience with Luna. She could have even used a spell to ensure they weren't overheard. But she'd jumped at the opportunity to look for answers like an eager foal. "I'm hoping you'll be tactful about this, and not say the wrong thing at the wrong time."

"Oh, mum's the word with me, Sparkler. Although I have no idea where the phrase 'mum's the word' even came from. It's kind of a strange saying."

"'Mum' was a word in old Moonwhiny, meaning 'silent'. It's thought to be derived from the sound one makes trying to speak with your muzzle shut, popularized by it's usage in one of Shakespony's plays. I think it was Haynry VI."

Pin Feather's beak opened in an avian smile. "Heh, if only I sat next to you instead of Thistle during mid-year exams. . ." His eyes grew distant as a comfortable silence stretched between them. Eventually he sighed. "You know, we weren't really surprised when Thistle and I were both accepted into Saguenare University, even though he went for engineering and I studied medicine. Our test scores were stellar. My. . . My mother wouldn't accept anything less than that. She made dire threats about what she would do to me if I didn't receive a full scholarship. She knew I was smarter and more capable than my siblings, but she was often harsh about pushing me where she wanted me to be."

Twilight's smile was sympathetic. His attempt to relate to her situation was equal parts obvious and endearing. "I've never been threatened by my parents. But I've always felt the push to achieve high test scores. In different ways, I'm sure our parents just wanted us to be our best." Twilight tilted her head. "How many siblings do you have?"

"Oh, too many." Pin Feather made a show of rolling his eyes. "I just wanted to make her proud of me, you know? To show her that I've worked hard to accomplish what she expects of me."

Twilight chuckled weakly. "Imagine if instead of being your mother, it was the ruler of an entire country. Now that's pressure."

"Oh, I can imagine." Pin Feather's words were heavy.

"Well," Twilight gestured to the airship around them. "You were hoof-picked by Celestia herself to help run a secret airship. Does your family know just how important you seem to be?"

"Oh yes, I think they do." He said. "Although I wasn't exactly hoof-picked. Thistle was, and he sort of talked Celestia into hiring me on as well. He was an obvious choice, a born leader and a genius among the gifted. He designed the side-mounted aerial crossbow when he was nine! Nine, the bastard. Used by the entire gryphon military nowadays. He just wouldn't sign on without me. My. . . mother sort of pushed me to become friends with him. Hoped I'd get somewhere in life by proxy. It seems she was right." He stared off into the sky, but he seemed not to see it, instead laying out his memories before him.

Twilight copied him, taking in not just the bright pinpricks of light but the immeasurable miles between them. She spoke, placing each word gently into the dark. "You know, I always used to love nighttime, more than any other time of day. Even as a filly I'd stay up as late as I could, usually reading. Or sometimes stargazing, searching for comets or planets or. . . anything interesting, really. Days were hectic and unpredictable, with everypony in Canterlot moving through their lives, bumping into one another, altering each others courses like an endless uncontrolled chemical reaction. A reaction I never fully understood. But the night, that was peaceful. Serene. Imagine my delight when I earned my cutie mark. It all seemed so perfect."

"But as I grew older, my foalish wonder seemed to drain away, and I began to see the stars more scientifically. I began to grasp just how long it takes for light from a star to reach us, and I began to grasp just how far away each of them are, from us and from each other. . . Each of these lights in the sky is nothing but an old, lonely photograph. Isolated much like I was for most of my life. If one of these stars exploded, do you know just how many years it would take for us to even find out about it? Half of the universe could be dying, and we wouldn't even know." Twilight absently adjusted her mane, wiping at the corner of her eye as she did so. "I didn't even know how lonely my life was until a couple of years ago. Now the stars in the sky just make me feel sad, like I'm back in my bedroom in Canterlot with nopony to talk to."

A minute passed in silence. Twilight was close to excusing herself and heading back inside when his friendly voice began again. "Are you familiar with the gryphon origin myth?" Twilight shook her head no. He continued. "It predates the Scrolls of the Ancients and the fracturing of the seven tribes. I think it went something like this."

"Drifting amongst the formless void of the cosmos, Krearrk, alone of his siblings, took joy in manipulating the realm of the physical. He would create objects out of the dust of creation, and his mother, The Matriarch of the Void, taught him how to use the flow of time to watch his creations dance amongst each other. His sister, Tarsi, was preoccupied with the ebb and flow of energy through the cosmos. She delighted in swirls of light and heat, and The Matriarch taught her to use the flow of time to create patterns out of the energy. Yet these two had a third sibling, Kitami, who delighted in nothing. It's said she grew bored and restless with meaningless creation, and she planted into Krearrk's ears an idea. She described how much more interesting his creations would be were they imbued with energy and will. Excited, he brought this idea to Tarsi. He explained how he wanted to endow his creations with a spark of magic. She remained unimpressed until he described how such a joining might be used to create life. At this, Tarsi agreed."

"So Krearrk set about forging tiny statues and figures, designs of such delicacy and beauty that they smote his heart. And Tarsi breathed the spark of magic into each one, setting them aglow. These ethereal and eternal beings came alive, aware of themselves and aware of one another. For a time, the deities were content. Particularly Kitami, who delighted in the interactions between the creations of light. Yet the harmony Krearrk and Tarsi had anticipated soon revealed itself to be flawed. As much joy as there was in being alive, there was an equal amount of sorrow. Pleasure was matched by suffering. Tenderness by intolerance."

"Kitami understood this, understood it was a fundamental balance necessary for existence. And she reveled in both the good and the evil brought forth. Tarsi and Krearrk were not pleased; they could only see the suffering they had engendered where before there was emptiness. They turned to Their Matriarch in a plea for help or wisdom. The Matriarch observed what her children had wrought, and she was displeased. So she scattered her children's creations across the expanse of eternity, and forbade her young from playing with their toys."

"And as the powers we name 'light' and 'life' radiated out from the scattered bits of creation we now call stars, the light reached the dull bits of rock sweeping through the cosmos and began life as we know it. And so long as their gentile light can reach us, ever will the mystery of life persist."

He continued. "You see, by describing the stars as projectors. . . as origins of life, it strikes me as painting a much warmer picture of eternity than your cold scientific analysis." Pin Feather shrugged a feathered shoulder. "I don't think the universe is so lonely a place. It's just difficult to find the connections between us if you only focus on what you see."

Twilight smiled. "That's a beautiful story. I suppose it's all in how we choose to look at things, isn't it?"

"Now you're getting it, Sparkler."

He struck her as being so friendly, so genuine, so honestly concerned about her feelings that Twilight couldn't help but feel a warm glow deep in her chest. "I don't think I've properly thanked you for saving my life."

"Ah, don't mention it. Just doing my job, is all."

"Well, I don't think it's part of your job description to offer comfort during an existential crisis, so maybe I can thank you for that."

"Oh, you'd be surprised. One of the medical textbooks in my quarters is called Angsty Unicorns: Avoiding Startling Bouts of Ponykinesis."

"Heeheehehehee-heheheh." Twilight Sparkle doubled over as she laughed. "Hehe, oh geez -- I said I was sorry for that!"

Pin Feather had laughed too. "Yeah, that doesn't mean I'll let you live it down, though. Maybe when it's not funny anymore." He smiled at her hopefully, his eartufts perking in the breeze. "Hey, want to go find out what kind of grub the others are rustling up? I'm feeling a bit peckish."

Twilight nodded, turning away from the rail. "Sure. I could go for some more of that tea Sun Shade likes."

They walked together across the deck of the Vigil. "Yeah, she's got excellent taste."

Twilight was silent for a beat. "I get it. Peckish. Because you have a beak. That's funny."

"Thank you. I liked it."

14: A Promise

The next morning, just after dawn, Twilight and Spike sat at the central table in the mess hall, Spike looking somewhat bleary-eyed. Twilight found herself gesturing telekinetically with her fork while she spoke. "Are you speaking of the team as a whole, or using the same terms to describe each of the Wonderbolts individually?"

Summer Reeds sat across from them, also gesturing. "Both! They're all a bunch of washouts and failures!"

"That sounds rather harsh, considering you've never met any of them face to face."

"Well, then, maybe not individually. But they're a sad bunch'a losers. It's all a matta' of who'se got the bits to get in. And those uniforms are just silly!"

Twilight shared a wary glance with Spike, and said, "I don't know if that's true or not, but I wouldn't say those things in front of Rainbow Dash."

"Yeah," Spike added, "She would really take that personally, since they're her childhood heroes and all." Spike set down his orange juice with a loud bang, for emphasis. He'd seen Applejack do that angrily one time while reading the Ponyville Confidential, and he'd been dying to try it out ever since.

"Yeah, well I don't care! I'll say it to whoever, wherever and whenever! There's no shame in calling out a sad sack. . ."

"Hey!" Twilight desperately tried changing the subject. "That's a nice necklace! Where'd you get it?"

"This?" Reeds looked down at her neckline. "Oh, Clear Sky made it for me."

"Wow, that was very sweet of him." It was a tiny silver wrench wrapped about with metal wire and attached to a simple cord. It was clearly an amateur project, and it was equally clear that his heart was in it. Twilight smiled. "Not everypony gets hoof-made jewelery from somepony else."

"Heh, yeah. . ." Reeds didn't blush, but Twilight figured that was only because Reeds wasn't the type to blush easily. "He's kind of sweet on me, and I'm sure I'll never understand just why. Actually, he made this last night to commemorate our little repair adventure!"

"The brush with the leviathan? See, now that's cool." Said Spike.

"Oh yah, see Pin Feather pulled this long sliver out of my fetlock, and he told me I should hang on to it. Now, I'm not usually a pony of sentiment, but. . ."

She trailed off as voices began to drift through the open hatchway, Pinkie Pie's being the easiest to recognize. "Maybe I'll order it with syrup! I love syrup!"

"Now, ya can't go an' bog down a toasted carnation sandwich in syrup!" Applejack replied.

"She's right, you know," That had to be Rarity. "Carnations are already alive with their own subtle sweetness. That would be like spreading, ugh," There was a shudder in her voice. "Frosting on pancakes."

"Ooooohh, now you're talkin' sister!" Pinkie Pie bounced into view. "That sounds delicious too! Morning Spike, Twilight, Reeds!"

Twilight smiled. Pinkie Pie had that effect on everyone at the table, it seemed. "Morning." She said. Spike's mouth was full, so he settled on a wave. Summer held up her coffee in a toast of welcome.

Applejack and Rarity followed, next to a hovering Rainbow Dash. "Hey Twilight, check me out!" Dash zipped over to hover above the breakfast table. "I'm flying while I'm flying! Ha-hah!" She pointed out at the sapphire ocean beyond the large portholes.

Twilight tapped a hoof to her chin as she thought. "Hey, you're right!" Her face lit up with wonder, her visible violet eye shining. Her exclamation caught her friends by surprise, and they glanced at one another knowingly. Twilight's brain couldn't resist latching onto problems and figuring them out. She spoke out loud to herself. "How can she hover at high speeds without fighting inertia? Shouldn't she have to propel herself forward too? Hmmmm. . . Oh, I see. The air is moving at the same rate of speed we all are, and inertial forces are exerted not with velocity but a change in velocity." She nodded to herself, satisfied. "Cool."

"Yeah." Dash rolled her eyes. "Cool."

Spike swallowed his bite of food and raised a claw. "Hey, after everypony grabs some breakfast, we should head to the bridge. Celestia's up."

This was greeted with general gasps and heartfelt cheers. "Oh, what a relief!" Rarity sighed. "Is she quite alright?"

Twilight nodded. "Pin Feather thinks she's made a full recovery. . ."

"Finally." Rainbow pumped a hoof in triumph.

"Not 'finally', Dash." Twilight grabbed her friend by the tail and yanked her down to floor level. "She should have been laid up for weeks with the injuries she suffered."

"So?" Rainbow folded her wings and shrugged. "Immortal alicorn powers, right?"

"Magic doesn't work like that!" Twilight said, flustered that she couldn't seem to impress upon her friends how strange this seemed. "At least, I don't think it does. She's not Wolveroan, for hoof's sake!"

Dash's eyes brightened. "So, you have been reading those comics I lent you!"

"Hey Dash!" Summer's voice held a note of challenge in it. Twilight held her breath, exchanging a worried glance with Spike. She wondered if Summer Reed's opinions on the Wonderbolts would lead to a fight. Twilight nervously itched her head where the band of her eye patch lay too close to her ear. Instead of anything else she could have said, Reeds went with, "What comics have you got?" Twilight sighed in relief as Rainbow Dash settled into a seat next to the unicorn, talking animatedly.

Applejack took a seat next to Twilight. "Well now, why's it so important to you figurin' this out, Twi'? What is it about Celestia healin' up that's not to be happy about?"

"I am happy!" Twilight replied. "I'm really really relieved. . . I guess I just don't like feeling confused." She concluded lamely.

"I hear ya'. Ain't no shame in that." Applejack started piling food onto a plate. "Still an' all, I ain't one to look a gift horse in the mouth."

Twilight mused. "Now there's a phrase I don't know the origin of."

Pinkie Pie sprang up behind Twilight with her hooves outstretched. "That's because it was first said by monkeys!"

"Monkeys can't talk, Pinkie."

"Of course not, Twilight! I'm talking about alien monkeys. Anyways, I'm gonna go find out where the syrup is hiding! La la laaa!" She bounced away.

Rarity finished arranging a variety of foodstuffs onto a plate. "Do express to The Princess of the Sun my heartfelt joy for her recovery, but I must join you all later."

Twilight nodded her understanding. "I'd like to come with you." She stood up from the table. "Where is Fluttershy, anyway? She left the infirmary sometime during the night, and I haven't seen her since."

Dash was clearly filling up a plate for herself. She ignored Twilight and addressed Rarity. "Hey, you heard her. She just wants to be left alone."

"Hmmmm," Rarity sniffed. "Perhaps I don't listen well. She will simply have to tell me again. Are you coming, Twilight?"

Rarity led Twilight down a set of stairs and through another corridor, one that ran along the hull, with periodic portholes offering a view of the pristine sunrise. Huh. Twilight thought. I haven't even seen a proper bunk yet, have I? Let alone slept in one. She yawned involuntarily.

Rarity stopped at a closed door, lightly tapped a hoof on it and paused for a polite count of five before gently pushing the door open. Twilight glimpsed a pair of bunks on either side of a room which might best be described as 'cosy' rather than 'cramped,' likely due to effective use of storage space and tasteful lighting. And every bulb in the room burned brightly. A familiar yellow pegasus lay curled upon a bottom bunk, blinking wide, bloodshot eyes at the intruding pair.

"Oh," Fluttershy's soft voice was as unconsciously melodic as ever. "Rarity, Twilight." She sniffled. "What. . . um. . . How are you?"

"Smashing, darling." Rarity set the laden tray she'd been levitating atop a compact bureau by the bed. "Just relocating some of the decadent breakfast fare being served this beautiful morning."

Fluttershy's eyes drifted to the floor. "I'm so sorry you went to the trouble, but I did say I wasn't hungry. . ."

"My dear!" Rarity affected shock at the mere thought. "Such nonsense! 'The trouble,' indeed. It is as much in my nature to bring breakfast to a friend as it is in your nature to apologize for it." Rarity shrugged in a playfully nonchalant manner. "For the moment, it would seem, you have no choice but to suffer our friendship." Fluttershy didn't smile, but the corners of her eyes scrunched a bit as though part of her wanted to smile.

Twilight trotted forward, settling herself on the bed beside her friend. "Fluttershy, how are you? I've been so worried about you. We all have."

Fluttershy immediately deflated. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry."

Drat! That's not the question I asked. Twilight wondered how to tactfully skirt the apology without hurting her friend's feelings. Hmmmm. . . "I know you don't mean to make anypony worry, Fluttershy. That's because you're so considerate." Okay, that seemed to work. "But I think I would worry less if I knew more about what you're going through. Please tell me what you're feeling. Help me understand." Oh, I hope that's what a good friend would say!

Rarity smiled her approval from the other side of Fluttershy's mane. But Fluttershy didn't respond or move. Twilight wondered if she should say something more, or if she should keep her muzzle shut and not push too hard. She decided to trust her instincts and wait.

Eventually, Fluttershy answered. "I'm. . . I'm just. . . just scared, that's all."

Twilight put a hoof on Fluttershy's shoulder. "Oh, well that's perfectly logical." Twilight said. "I think, deep down, we're all kinda scared."

Fluttershy looked for a moment as though she might not reply. But then she shrugged off the sympathetic hoof. "No. You're not scared. Not yet." She began shaking a little. "If you were scared you would be screaming at somepony to turn this ship around."

Twilight recoiled from her friend's vehemence. She glanced towards Rarity for help, but Rarity only shrugged. Twilight ventured, "Is this about the other night, when we were running through the woods. . .?"

"It just shut us off. All of us." Fluttershy whimpered. "It shut us all off like a collection of foal toys. And it didn't even know we were there!" Her beautiful sea-green eyes looked hollow. "I don't know what's going to happen next," She turned her haunted gaze fully upon Twilight. "But if we don't turn back some of us are going to die." She turned away. Her shaking had spread from her wings to her hooves, and tears threaded down her cheeks. "And I don't know which would be worse. . . dying, or having to lose. . ."

Twilight reached out her hoof again. "That's not going to happen. Fluttershy, listen to me." She lifted her Fluttershy's chin up to meet her gaze. Twilight put as much steel into her voice as she could manage. "Nopony's going to die. I wont let that happen." It was Twilight's turn to sound vehement, even angry. And in that moment she knew how far she would be willing to go to protect her friends. She would smash the world around her to pieces if need be.

Fluttershy seemed to sense exactly what Twilight was feeling. "You'll survive, Twilight. You'll be fine." Was that accusation in Fluttershy's voice? "After all, you're willing to burn, or destroy, or. . . or kill whatever might be in your way, aren't you?" Twilight's clear logic vanished, scattered to the winds by the deep sting of shame. Her mouth hung open. "The. . . the violence just radiated off of you down in that changeling hive. It was so dark and vile, it made me feel sick, Twilight." She flung the words with a bitterness that bespoke more hurt than anger. "We all felt it when we were connected by the Elements! But none of us said anything." Fluttershy glanced towards Rarity, who backed away a step. But when Rarity turned quavering eyes upon a stunned Twilight, she didn't refute it.

Fluttershy grimaced at the choker about her neck as though she'd found the one creature in all of Equestria that disgusted her. "I mean, that's what happened to Luna before she became Nightmare Moon, right? Nopony wants to talk about it, but there's a darkness inside of you, Twilight, and that scares me as much as anything."

Twilight Sparkle had pushed herself as far away as she could from the tiny pegasus. Her chest rose and fell heavily, as though she couldn't find enough air in the room to breathe. Fluttershy had curled up into herself, slipping her head under a wing and shaking like a leaf in a storm. Rarity bit her lip in consternation, unsure what to say or whom to comfort.

"You know what I miss most about Ponyville?" Pinkie Pie's voice entered the open doorway before she did. Her voice lacked all of its usual hectic energy, and instead it was bright and steady, like a candle in a dark room. "I miss the smell of Mr. Cake's chocolate chip and daisy muffins. We would open Sugarcube Corner every morning, and you could just see the moment ponies walked into that smell. You couldn't help but smile." Slowly and steadily, Pinkie walked up to the trembling Fluttershy. "Or maybe it was Ms. Cake's splendiferous butterchip scones. Matilda and Cranky would always come in on Thursdays and Sundays to get tea and scones, and just sit in the rear corner by the one odd vase and the windowsill with the chip in it and be all in love and stuff."

Fluttershy hadn't uncurled, but her shaking had slowed noticeably. The cadence of Pinkie Pie's voice didn't change or miss a beat, but she cast a sympathetic glance towards Twilight as she continued. "Hey, remember back when Bon Bon first moved to Ponyville from Germaneigh to set up a confectionery of her own, and the Cakes thought that baking her a bunch of welcome meringues was a good idea? But then I thought they might be trying to upstage her and make her feel bad, so I messed up the mailing address and had the mailmare drop them all off at the Mayor's house, except she dropped them from really high up. . ."

Pinkie Pie's voice had faded, because Twilight had fled the room. Pinkie Pie's halcyon memories of Ponyville had no effect on her, because Fluttershy's words bounded and rebounded in her head, and she couldn't escape the truth of them. Twilight ran down the gently curved corridor, coming to a split where stairs would take her back up to the upper deck, and a transverse hallway led towards the bowels of the airship. Unready to meet anyone else's eyes, she stopped.

She planted her hooves on a nearby bench and pressed her face against the cool glass of a porthole. Of course she's right. She thought. Everypony's right. I want to bring harmony to the world, not violence. She sighed deeply. Okay, if it happens again, if those feelings come back, I'll. . . I'll just ignore them. I'll remember this moment and remember what it is I want to stand for. she promised herself. She conjured up her memory of Princess Celestia as she had first seen her during the Summer Sun Celebration some fifteen years ago. She'd watched the Princess raise the sun, watched the pure radiant light fill every corner of Canterlot, and, it seemed, every corner of Twilight's young soul. I will be a source of light! Not darkness! She didn't realize she'd been stomping her hoof against the edge of a bench until the wood chipped beneath her.

Twilight heard dense little footsteps coming down the stairs, and she quickly composed herself before Spike trundled into view. "Hey Twilight! Is everything okay?"

For a moment, Twilight thought he meant her. Then she remembered. "Oh, Fluttershy? I don't. . . I don't really think so."

Spike's eyes grew very wide. "What's wrong with her? Is she going to get better?"

"I think she must have some form of PTSD. Whatever strange shockwave that hit us all back on the coast. . . I don't think she ever really shook it off, for some reason."

"Yeah," Spike nodded. "That was a really weird sensation. I figure that might have been what dying might feel like. No wonder she's still upset."

Twilight studied Spike's face, the concern mixed with determination. All of it underlaid with a fragile innocence. For a moment, she considered leaving it at that. Then she slumped, her shoulders and her ears drooping. "And. . . and she's worried about me. She's afraid that. . . that I might become violent if I'm pushed too far."

Spike's face grew wide-eyed and solemn. Then he laughed, long and loud. "Hah hah hah heh hehheh! You? You wouldn't hurt a fly! You're the sweetest pony in the whole wide world! Heh, next to Rarity of course. Honestly, what would make her say that?"

Twilight smiled fondly. "Thanks Spike. That means a lot." She swept him into a hug. "And whatever happens, I promise you that wont change."

"So, is there anything we can do for her?"

"I'm not really sure, aside from just trying to be there for her. Maybe one of the Princesses will be able to tell us if there's more we can do."

"Oh, good. We can ask them at the meeting."

"Meeting?"

"Yeah, that's why I came down to find you guys. Celestia wants to get everypony together up on the flight deck. C'mon!"

The morning sun shone full in the sky, reflecting off of the burnished rails and the majestic ocean far below. Twilight emerged from the hatch, squinting her eye and blinking in the harsh glare. She was followed by Spike, Pinkie Pie and Rarity.

It looked as though Princess Celestia was having a conversation with a windblown Rainbow Dash, but if Celestia's furrowed brow was any indication, it wasn't going as she expected. Applejack had covered her face with her stetson, and Princess Luna stood by with Thistle Down and Sun Shade.

Dash had the floor. "So. . .? You're telling me there's a special metal that resists magic? Why didn't you make us all armor out of it?"

Celestia's eyebrows shot skyward. "Well, there's several reasons. . . even ignoring the time constraints, such armor would severely hamper our own magic use. . ."

"So what?" Rainbow Dash interrupted. Sun Shade gasped. Clearly such informal speech offended her sensibilities. Dash continued. "I told you, the whole magic is thing total crud. I don't need it." Applejack grumbled something under her breath.

Celestia looked as though she didn't know quite what to say. "But. . . But I did hear what you told me, young Rainbow Dash. You told me that you conjured a full shield on the wing. Don't. . . I mean, you're the first pegasus in the recorded history of Equestria to touch magic! Doesn't that mean something to you?"

"Pffftt." Dash rolled her eyes from one horizon to the other. "Maybe if it didn't crumble like a soggy cookie the moment I needed it."

"Yet, that's what I'm trying to explain. There are many factors which can affect a shield's strength and stability, including the properties of the object or force you're trying to repel. Perhaps your shield was stronger than you realize."

"Yeah right." Thick, heavy layers of sarcasm. Twilight wondered if she should interject on Rainbow's behalf, or if she should just let Dash dig herself a nice little hole. Dash threw her hooves dramatically into the sky. "I'm probably fast enough that I wont even need to learn this stuff! Maybe your magic is all effective and junk, but mine isn't! It's about as effective as what comes out of my pegasus device!"

Rarity looked as though she might faint. Sun Shade actually did, although she managed to collapse in such a way that she landed somewhat comfortably. Luna closed her eyes and looked for all the world as though she might burst out laughing at any moment.

"O-kay, hah hah!" Twilight interjected on Rainbow's behalf. "I think that's enough from you, Rainbow Dash!" Dash tried to say something, but it didn't make it out past Twilight's hoof. "If we're going to forget that she's our liege and ruler for this trip, at least remember she has thousands of years of experience. Maybe do a little less talking and a little more listening?" Dash scowled and grumbled incoherently.

Thistle Down looked dazed as he helped Sun Shade back to her hooves. "Pegasus device. . . Oh sweet Tartarus, I'm going to have to have grandchicks just so I can tell them this story. . ." He said to no one in particular. Luna appeared to be losing ground to the laughter she so valiantly fought, but she refused to give in entirely, resorting to placing a hoof over her mouth as her eyes began to water.

Twilight spun to face her mentor, blushing furiously and radiating chagrin. "So. . . what's, ah. . . what was, um. . . You wanted to see us?" She concluded lamely.

Celestia's vexation gave way to a reassuring smile. "Yes, I did. I would like to continue instructing your friends in basic magic defense. I fear we may need it by the time we cross the ocean." She glanced towards the open hatch behind them. "Where is Fluttershy? I had hoped to replicate her success from the train."

Rarity glared daggers at Rainbow Dash, still clearly mortified at her friend's behavior. Yet she answered first. "Our Fluttershy isn't feeling quite well, your Highness." She said. "Perhaps after this little meeting you wouldn't mind paying her a visit?"

Soft concern was evident in Celestia's smile. "Of course. But first there are a few things I think we need to go over, and time is of the essence."

"Ah don't mean to ta be 'that pony,' but ah ain't gettin' a word of this." Applejack said.

Luna squinted in the harsh glare of the sun. "Then we shall begin anew. The art and practice of grounding thyself magically is akin settling oneself in such a way that thouart braced. Mages we may be, but magic and physics are yet kin. Shoulds't thou lift or push an external object with magic, thou woulds't feel thy effects enacted upon. . . Rainbow Dash, pay attention!"

Dash had been picking something out of her hoof. "Oh, sorry Princess."

Applejack still looked lost. Rarity offered a raised hoof and spoke up. "I think I see. Anytime I have levitated something with my magic, I've felt the weight of it." Rarity said. "Applejack, what would happen if you were to buck an apple tree without properly setting your front hooves?"

Applejack chuckled. "Like that time a couple years back when Big Macintosh tried bringing in the west field? He took no notice of some spilt gravel when he bucked the first tree. Wound up bucking himself halfway down the far hill. Heh, big lout sprained an ankle an' torqued a knee. Wound up havin' to pull in the harvest on mah lonesome. I think it was around the time y'all gave me the pony pony pony award, or somethin'."

Luna smiled. "Just so, Applejack. Our intent is to help thee brace thyself."

Rarity nodded. "So that's why Twilight can lift a train car without throwing out her back."

"Twilight likely grounded herself in the bedrock beneath her. . . RAINBOW DASH!"

Dash had been staring at the distant horizon. "Gah! What?"

"What indeed!" Luna paced back and forth in front of the line of ponies. "This information might save thy cerulean hide! Now, close thine eyes and breathe deeply. Still thy thoughts, and settle all four of your hooves evenly upon the deck beneath thee. Now, push thy awareness into the deck beneath thee. Ah, quite good, Rarity. Applejack, we believe thouart doing it correctly!"

"R--Really?" Applejack asked. "'Cause i don't feel no different."

"Commendable, actually. Hmmmmmm. . ." Luna paused. "Pinkamena?"

"Sorry Princess!" Pinkie Pie chirruped. "I was thinking about cake frosting! I'll try again." Her brow furrowed in thought, and her tongue stuck out the corner of her mouth in concentration.

"Wait." Luna held up a hoof. "We. . . Thouart grounded, and quite solidly we might add."

"Oh!" Pinkie Pie bounced in place. "'We weren't awareth it would be-ith so easy-ith!'"

Rarity hip-checked Pinkie to the deck. "Don't make fun of the Princess, Pinkie. The royal 'we' is a time-honored tradition."

Pinkie Pie looked offended. "We would never make fun of a Princess, especially one as cool as Luna! I. . . Waugh!" Pinkie twitched as a deep blue aura of magic closed around her.

Luna circled the pink earth pony, peering at her critically. "Thouart grounded, but we can't say for certain where. How curious. Sister! A moment, please?"

"Gate magic?" Twilight's good eye widened with disbelief. "Um, we don't have the correct facilities for me to learn to open gateways, do we? Wont this be dangerous?"

Celestia only looked faintly worried. "Well, we will be careful. Believe it or not, I have taught gate magics on a large sailing vessel before. Arbor Mist was both sharp and studious, and we were traveling to the Minotaur homelands during the Goblin invasions. I thought that teaching him advanced magic would prove helpful."

"Oh, Clover's grandcolt? That's interesting." Twilight looked relieved. "So, opening gateways while moving isn't quite as dangerous as it sounds?"

"Well, danger does exist." Celestia's gaze grew distant and worried. "But we should be fine this time."

"Why, what happened last time?"

"Nothing terrible. We managed to salvage most of the ship and complete our journey without any fatalities." Celestia explained. Twilight's pupils shrank to pinpoints and she gulped. "We'll just take extra precautions. Now, are you familiar with the theory?"

Twilight brushed a hoof through her mane. "Um, yes. It involves a pair of linked objects, ones which used to be connected in some way, and establishing one as a nexus for reaching out towards the other."

"Good. And the establishing of the nexus?"

"Well, you start by reinforcing the object with stabilizing spells, and grounding yourself within the object, if possible." Celestia nodded, motioning her student to continue. "It's also a good idea to shield yourself, in case the gateway opens somewhere unexpected. Then you focus magic externally, compress it into a small space above the object in question, and then strike it with energy. If you've done it correctly, a gateway will open, and the other side should be located where the linked object exists."

Celestia nodded again. "A pair of linked objects are only required to direct and stabilize the gateway. Of course this prevents serious disasters, like opening a gateway into the center of the planet."

Twilight's jaw dropped and her ears wilted. "That. . . I don't think any shield ever conjured would save your life if that happened."

"And that's why we ground ourselves within the object being used. We can direct the gate at will, ensuring we aren't simply floundering about the universe for an exit."

"And that's equally horrifying." Twilight shook her head. "Can't we try something less dangerous?"

"Nonsense. Now, Sun Shade has been generous enough to offer up this saucer for us to work with. I'd like you to work on setting up and holding the preparations to my satisfaction before I break it in two. In. . . What was that, sister?" Luna was waving them over towards the other ponies. "Hm, maybe we'll try it later. I wonder what's the matter?"

"That certainly is strange." Celestia's perplexed expression matched Luna's. "Remember Starswirl's dissertation on alternate grounding techniques?"

"Yes, sister mine, yet recall it was all theoretical. Not to mention painfully unfeasible."

"Hmmmm. . . Yes it was." Celestia agreed.

"Wait," Pinkie Pie looked worried. "So, am I doing something wrong?"

"Not at all, young one." Celestia reassured her. "Just something. . . different."

"Different good? Or different bad?"

"Just. . . different. Special, even."

"Well then, yay!" Pinkie Pie wrapped her arms about herself. "I'm different-special!"

Twilight was wide-eyed with curiosity. "She's not grounded locally? Are you certain she's grounded at all?"

"See for thyself, Twilight Sparkle." Luna gestured with a hoof.

"Oh, this again?" Pinkie bounced to her hooves and bowed her head low, braced as though she intended to charge Twilight and tackle her to the ground. "I like this game!"

Twilight stepped forward, her horn wreathed in light. An answering glow sprang up around Pinkie, but she didn't move. Twilight's brow creased in concentration. After a moment, the steady breeze flowing across the deck from the flight of the airship was disrupted by air currents blowing outwards from the empty space between the two. Twilight leaned forward, her horn glowing brighter and brighter. Pinkie Pie leaned forward too, smiling and straining to push back. The glow intensified. The winds doubled. Applejack reached up and shoved her hat more firmly onto her head.

Celestia placed a golden-shod hoof on Twilight's shoulder. "Easy, young one." The glow dissipated, and Twilight glanced up at her mentor. When she followed Celestia's gaze downward, Twilight noticed that her hooves had scraped a few inches back across the deck.

Rainbow Dash rocketed into the air. "That was awesome!"

"Observe, Rainbow Dash. This is why we implored thee to focus upon our instruction." Luna reminded her.

Pinkie Pie resumed pronking in place, springing up and down. "Thanks Twilight! That was fun!"

"Celestia, where was all of the energy going? How in Equestria is she doing that?"

"I don't know, my student." Celestia said. "But I'd like to know." She looked about the airship deck. "There are other opportunities to take advantage of out here while we study this. Twilight?"

"Yes, Princess?"

"Please take Rainbow Dash back towards the aft section of the deck and see if you can convince her to give magic shields another shot."

Twilight saluted. "You can count on me!"

Celestia continued, "Sister? Would you prefer to continue examining Pinkamena's. . . talents? Or would you prefer to continue instruction?"

"By all means," Luna gestured towards Pinkie Pie. "We would prefer your input. We are vexed."

"Gladly. Would you consent then to continuing the basics with the others?"

"Certainly."

"But how did it feel, doing it for the first time? Wasn't it exhilarating?"

"Honestly Twilight? It was just way more work than it should have been. I don't know if I'm ready for all of this."

"Well, that's what the first time usually feels like according to the books. But the more you practice with magic the easier it gets. You spend less energy wrestling with your leylines and you can just let the magic do the work."

"See, I didn't even hear everything you said because I was thinking about Batmare."

Twilight pulled at her mane in frustration. "Look, Dash. . . I. . . Ugh, okay. How about this. . . Just draw up your shield one more time. Try to do whatever it was you did before, just to show me you can. Then we'll drop it and go do something else."

Rainbow Dash was silent for a few moments. Then she rolled her eyes. "Fine. But just once." She looked down at the choker clasped about her neck, considering it with a rare expression on her face; wary respect. Then she closed her eyes. A few heartbeats later, she peeked one eye open. "Can you, like, look the other way or something for a minute? I can't focus with you staring at me like that."

Twilight had to stifle laughter, "Sure, no problem." She turned away, pretending to study the polished wood of the deck. At the same time, she tried to feel what was happening behind her. Even though a full minute passed, and then two, Dash hadn't moved. Twilight knew she would wait all day if she had to, so long as Dash was willing to keep trying. The hardest part was fighting the urge to give her advice.

Twilight felt it the moment Rainbow Dash succeeded, like a warm, subtle glow behind her. She spun around and gasped with delight. A translucent, red bubble had formed around the pegasus, and the choker at her neck was aglow. Within her shield, Dash shook with the strain, but she gave Twilight a triumphant grin. From across the deck, Applejack and Rarity cheered, while Pinkie Pie threw a hug around the closest thing to her, which happened to be Princess Celestia.

Twilight studied the shield avidly. It wasn't half-bad, as beginner defenses went. As an idea hit her, a sly smile slid across her features. Dash had seen that expression before and suddenly became very alarmed. "Twi, don't even. . ."

Twilight's horn burst into light, and a bolt of purple force slammed into the sphere, splashing across it even as it flung the bubble and its contents halfway across the deck of the airship. Dash's shield flickered and blinked out as she collapsed in a heap.

"That was amazing!" Twilight called out as she cantered up. "You completely dispersed my spell! See, now if you had grounded yourself, you probably wouldn't have moved at all!"

Dash's voice was soft with exasperation and disbelief. "Someday Twilight, someday in the far and distant future, when you're content and happy with your life, and when you absolutely least expect it. . . I'll get you back for that."

"But it worked! Your shield was both stable and functional!"

"When you least. Expect. It."

"Come on, I bet it didn't even hurt!"

"I want you to remember this day, Twilight."

"Let's try this again!"

"No bucking way!"

Twilight's horn lit up once more, illuminating Dash's face as she launched another telekinetic slap at her friend. But her spell flew harmlessly into the distance, because Rainbow Dash was suddenly hovering above the airship deck, flapping her wings to keep pace.

Twilight's brow furrowed. A scientist at heart, she couldn't help but repeat her experiment, firing more mostly-harmless magical attacks into the air. But as often as she tried, Rainbow Dash was faster. She slipped effortlessly out of the way of each attack, rolling and spinning and diving. A twitch of a wing was enough to catch a stray draft of turbulent air and nudge her out of harm's way. Several graceful dodges later, Dash slipped aside from another spell and folded her wings, flipping through the air and landing on Twilight's back, knocking the wind out of her.

"See Twilight?" Dash remarked, giving Twilight a playful noogie, "That was so much easier! I think I should just stick to what I'm best at, don't you?"

Twilight's horn lit up again, and this time Dash found herself encased within a purple-colored shield, floating just above Twilight's head. Dash's hooves found no purchase on the inside of that magic bubble, and she wound up floundering her hooves about and sliding around into somewhat undignified positions. "And what happens if you can't just fly around?" Twilight asked, all of her playfulness gone. "How will you protect yourself then, Rainbow?"

Dash had just enough room to flap her wings, so she hovered inside her prison. She reared back and slammed a hoof into the side, producing a hollow ringing noise. She hit the side again, then again, then again, but she couldn't so much as scratch the inside of Twilight's shield. Twilight watched as the pegasus scratched her head, looking about the deck for inspiration. Her gaze eventually settled on Twilight's horn, aglow with an ethereal light. Dash drew in a deep breath, her shoulders relaxed and her eyes closed. Good, Twilight thought, Celestia's counting on me to convince Dash to practice. Once her shield is up, I'll drop mine and we can try again.

But no shield appeared. Instead, Rainbow Dash pushed both of her front hooves out to either side of her. Then she moved them both in over-sized circles and drew them into her chest. Twilight thought she looked ridiculous, and she started to ask just what she thought she was doing. But then the blood-red jewel at Dash's throat burst into light as she slammed both of her hooves against the side of the shield, which shattered instantly. Twilight cringed as a jolt of pain shot down her horn and into her skull.

Twilight opened her good eye to find an elated Rainbow Dash sitting on the deck and staring at her hooves as though she'd found the key to the Smithsoatsian Wonderbolt Museum. Glancing over her shoulder, Twilight noticed a small, smoking dent in the steel of the loading crane.

"Omigosh, that was the most awesomazing thing ever!" Dash's voice cracked on the last word. "In the history of absolutely everything EVER!"

Twilight noticed that both Princesses were strolling purposefully in their direction. "Rainbow! You've got to be careful with offensive magic! You could have hurt somepony!"

"Oh," Dash seemed breathless with wonder. "Oh, sorry Twilight. But this is just too awesome. . . Seriously, why aren't we learning this stuff?"

Celestia offered an answer. "Because it is dangerous. I had hoped you would at least learn the rough basics of defense before trying your hoof at magical sparring." While the Princess's disapproval wasn't entirely aimed at Twilight, she still felt responsible. She probably shouldn't have pushed Dash so hard. Her cheeks burned.

Celestia turned and considered the sun. "Perhaps we should all take a break. We can take a second look at what we've learned after lunch. In the meantime, I'd like to pay Fluttershy a visit."

While Celestia accompanied Rarity to see Fluttershy, Twilight Sparkle waited slumped across a bench in the hallway. Part of her fervently hoped that Fluttershy would say nothing about her. She dreaded the look on Celestia's face if Fluttershy revealed her secret hunger for violence. Another part of her wanted Celestia to know, wanted to ask Celestia it she'd ever personally wrestled with hatred or rage at some point during her life. Although it stretched Twilight's imagination to picture Celestia as anything but benevolent, living through a hundred lifetimes must have provided ample opportunities. Through it all, she waited like a school filly in the Principal's Office.

Yet, when Celestia emerged looking drawn and sad, the first thought through Twilight's mind was, "How is she?"

Celestia hesitated before speaking. "I have placed a sleep spell upon her for the time being. She is a very sensitive soul. Her mind and her spirit have been hurt, and hurt deeply, by that creature's magic. It may be that rest is all I can offer her, but perhaps Luna can watch over her and ensure her dreams remain tranquil. Such rest may help the soul find strength."

"Princess, what in Equestria did attack you? That shockwave. . . I've never heard about some of the spells we saw that night, let alone have names for them."

"I doubt you would have come across them in your studies, my student." Celestia paced up to the nearest porthole and stared out to sea. "To toy with the very fabric of reality in such a way. . . Luna and I agree, the monster we fought must be a piece of the Darkness, some avatar or inheritor of the power we once tried to fight in our homeland. Not even the gnarled demons of Tartarus can shake the joining of time and space in such a way. It must have known we were coming, and moved to stop us."

Twilight joined Celestia in staring out at the ocean. "Could this creature have given the Element of Deception to the changelings?"

Celestia smiled at her student's cleverness. "We believe so, Twilight. The question that remains to us is simply this: What did a beta changeling have to offer an ancient evil in return for such a powerful artifact?"

"Or: What could such an ancient evil possibly want in the first place?"

Celestia's contemplative silence was agreement enough. Twilight glanced at Celestia out of the corner of her good eye, attempting to gauge whether or not she wanted to discuss something else. But Celestia gave no indication that Fluttershy had said anything at all. She merely gave her student a sad smile. "A mystery we will doubtless unravel together. In the meantime, what do you believe should be our next step with Rainbow Dash?"

Days and nights aboard Aether's Vigil fell into something of a routine. Twilight found herself sharing a room with Spike, Applejack and Rainbow Dash. Mornings were spent upon the deck of the airship, practicing and training under the watchful eyes of Equestria's rulers. Pinkie Pie and Applejack made almost no progress at all, much to Applejack's frustration, and her poor stetson bore the brunt of that emotion. If Pinkie Pie felt any similar frustration, she never showed it. She gamely tried what she was told over and over and over, stopping periodically to cheer on an overly excited Rainbow Dash.

Dash, for her part, spent so much energy flinging mana bolts around the empty dome of the sky that first day that she overextended herself and passed out, spilling to the deck like a dropped bag of mail. She came to several hours later with a headache that felt as though a dozen Pinkie Pies with construction equipment were renovating the inside of her skull. At least, that's how she described it to anyone who would listen.

Twilight found her instruction both complicated and difficult. Even after Celestia deemed her preparations adequate and she split the dish she'd been using into two, it wasn't until her third day of trying that Twilight was able to open a stable gateway. Pinkie Pie, of course, flung herself through it, crossing the entirety of the deck in the blink of an eye and giggling hysterically. When Celestia casually remarked that it took Arbor a solid month to make that kind of progress, Twilight blushed with pride. Pride which lasted until Celestia began trying to teach her advanced shielding, anyway.

Eight days off of the coast, Pin Feather removed Twilight's eye patch, and determined that she'd healed up enough to leave it off. She was left with a faint trio of scars that she found herself staring at and tracing in a mirror. As promised, Rarity had given her a cream for smoothing blemishes and scars, but Twilight never brought herself to try it. She had the vague feeling that she wanted to be reminded of the consequences of her choices.

That same day Fluttershy left her bunk, joining everyone in the mess hall for lunch. Not one of her friends made a big fuss over her, knowing how little Fluttershy liked to be singled out on the best of days. They simply offered her a seat and tried their hardest to make her feel at home. Even Rainbow Dash was extra considerate. Yet Fluttershy still wasn't herself. She never appeared relaxed, her shoulders and wings always betraying the tension she felt. She even seemed a little snappish over inconsequential things, but no one seemed to take her odd outbursts personally. Her friends simply offered her friendship and kindness, and lots of patience.

On the fourteenth morning away from land, Twilight Sparkle was awoken by a loud voice. "Twi, Spike, you've got to see this!" Applejack's voice was urgent, intruding upon troubled dreams. As Twilight cracked her eyes open, her first thought was that she must still be asleep. She rubbed her eyes and blinked a few times, but the light angling through the porthole was still a deep, blood red.

Applejack was busy waking up Dash, and a sleepy Spike mumbled, "Twilight, what's going on?" as Applejack flung the door open and leapt out of sight.

"I'm not sure." Twilight said. "Let's go find out." She teleported Spike onto her back and set off into the airship. A couple of bleary faces peeked out of doors, asking questions Twilight didn't have answers for. Rainbow Dash zipped past them flying recklessly, but expertly, ahead. Twilight felt no such sense of urgency, but she was deeply curious. Peeking out of a porthole, she could see the last of the stars fleeing from Celestia's sunrise. Yet it was clear that, where the sun was rising somewhere in front of the airship, there were some serious colors going on.

"Woah." Spike turned a grin full of innocent wonder upon Twilight. "Let's see what the sky looks like from the bridge!" Twilight reserved judgement on whether or not to feel excited, but she smiled at Spike's enthusiasm and cantered on.

When they burst onto the bridge Twilight pulled up short, gasped and felt her jaw go slack. From the looks of it, so had everyone else. The horizon was no longer a simple circle overlaid atop a rectangle of sky, set atop a rectangle of water. A dark, craggy mass lay across the horizon, and from behind it the sun lit the world with vibrant, glowing reds and yellows. The light of dawn cast upwards, but not evenly. Instead, it was broken into uncountable distinct beams of light, radiating upwards like a heartrendingly beautiful forest of sunshine. Beyond the core of the image, every imaginable shade and texture of blue provided a backdrop for odd, scattered clouds, throwing them into sharp relief. And all of this flowed seamlessly into violets and purples around the edges of the bridge's massive windows. Everyone present had been struck silent by the majesty of the sunrise.

Rainbow Dash had a hoof against the glass. "Wow. . ."

It was a challenge for Twilight to tear her gaze away from the natural spectacle, but a glance about the bridge revealed a somber Princess Celestia, her wide orchid-colored eyes studying every detail of the horizon. When Twilight found her voice, even a breathless and awestruck version of her voice, she asked, "So. . . we made it?"

Celestia gently shook her head no, but her sister at her side answered. "It is too soon. . ." Luna whispered.

Celestia drew in a long breath and slowly let it out. Applejack turned to the Princesses, her outstretched hat gesturing vaguely towards the window. "But, but there it is, right? Right there. Shouldn't we be shoutin' 'Land ho!' or somethin'?"

"That's not land, Applejack."

"That's not land?" Applejack replied. The same question was echoed by Dash from the window, and Clear Sky from the controls. "Oh, that's land." Applejack returned to studying the sky before her. "Ah mean, look at it. . ."

"Princess?" Twilight stepped in close, tucking herself under Celestia's wing. "What is it?"

The silence on the bridge was emphasized by the hum of the engines, not broken by it. Celestia's words dropped like bits into a well. "It's a hurricane."

15: The Storm

It was midmorning, and the sun stood imperiously above the distant bank of dark clouds. Standing up on the flight deck, it seemed to Twilight that they plunged straight towards the heart of it. A storm too vast to comprehend. Even more disorienting, the steady current of air caused by the Vigil's movement was occasionally disrupted by a sporadic cross-breeze; cast-offs from the storm itself. "How high would you guess those cloud peaks reach?" Thistle asked as he leaned against the forward rail, squinting beneath the sun's glare.

Sun Shade, wearing her ocular spectrometer, answered immediately. "Oh, fifth cloudline, easily."

Thistle Down whistled through his beak. "So much for flying over it, then." He shrugged his wings. "We never did solve the icing problem."

"Icing problem?" Pinkie Pie inquired hopefully.

"Actual ice, Pinkie Pie." Sun Shade gestured with her parasol. "It gets colder the further one gets from the ground, my dear. We've discovered ice buildup around the turbines at heights over third cloudline, even in direct sunlight."

"A simple fix, we imagine." Princess Luna added. "We know spells of warmth and heat, do we not? 'Twould be possible to make the attempt, at the least."

"Except for the additional tiny fact that this bird wouldn't generate enough lift at those altitudes." Thistle replied.

"Oh yeah," Twilight added. "Air density is as proportional to distance below the tropopause as temperature, isn't it? The engines will have to work harder the further up we fly, wont they?"

Thistle and Sun Shade nodded their agreement. Luna nodded her understanding.

Fluttershy stopped chewing on her bottom lip anxiously long enough to ask, "Can't. . . can't we fly around it?"

Celestia smiled, taking the young pony's participation in the conversation as a good sign. "Possibly. Captain?"

Thistle sighed. "Well, with accurate triangulation we might be able to measure this thing, but it looks like the edges curve with the horizon. Assuming we're still a day's flight away from the first thunderheads, it'll be like circumventing a small continent."

Rainbow Dash hovered above the deck. "If only the weather team back home could see this. . . A continent made of clouds. . . Cloudsdale could shut down the cloud generators for fifty years, at least."

"Well, we've got the food," Thistle continued, "We can eat for months with the stores we have. We can even purify ocean water into something drinkable if we have to. It's fuel I'm worried about. If we take another week to circumvent this thing, and add another week onto the return trip, we'll be paddling this bird like a canoe the last five hundred miles."

For the first time in awhile, Fluttershy sounded hopeful. "So, we have to turn back, don't we?"

"Perhaps." Celestia answered. "I have no wish to needlessly risk lives."

Luna glanced at her sister in alarm. "Perhaps there exists another way." Everyone turned their attention towards the Princess of the Night. "Should we draw close enough, mayhaps thee and I, sister, can disperse the worst of this storm."

Celestia remained doubtful. "Weather magic can have severe repercussions. . ."

Luna raised a single eyebrow. With calm confidence, she said, "We should at least brave the attempt. You know tis what Father would have done."

Celestia's eyes unfocused, but she didn't disagree. "We have lost the teachings of the weather wardens, but we have learned much since those days, haven't we?"

Luna nodded. "Yet we shall have to reach the cloud banks to attempt to read the storm properly."

"Yes. Yes, of course." Celestia tapped one hoof-shod delicately against the deck to emphasize her point. "Captain, it would be wise to ask your crew to tie down everything that isn't already tied down. Even the stray wind currents we will encounter outside the hurricane will be substantial."

"Yes, your highness." He turned immediately and motioned Sun Shade to accompany him.

Luna reached out a hoof and pulled Twilight in close to her. "In actuality, thy faithful student may have a spell which may assist us."

Twilight found all eyes on her. "I do?"

As the day wore on and the sun drifted closer to the far horizon, the airship finally closed in on the massive storm. Stray clouds floated by, both above and below the ship's position, and the sporadic breeze had grown to a constant cross-wind. Holding a massive pair of flat shields in place, Twilight managed to cut through the worst of the air currents and divert the wind around the airship without compromising its lift.

The flight deck was clear save for three brave figures. Standing at the prow, Celestia threw a concerned glance over her shoulder. "Twilight, how long can you keep this up?"

Twilight's grin was victorious and determined. "As long as you need, Princesses. I can handle this!"

At Celestia's side, Luna nodded her approval. "Art thee ready, my sister?"

"Yes. Let us begin. Just be careful out there."

The pair of alicorns at the very prow of the airship leaned forward and touched their horns together. Celestia's horn began a soft glow, but Luna's remained unlit. Twilight kept half-an eye on them while she denied the wind the pleasure of scooping Aether's Vigil out of the sky. She hadn't been exaggerating, she really did feel as though she could hold off this kind of wind the whole night through if she had to. The mathematically precise angle of the shields balanced energy expenditure and efficiency. And though the winds gusted and shifted, they generally blew from the same direction. Easy.

As the sky dimmed and the first patters of rain began to splash the deck, the airship slowed its approach, coming to a hover just outside the storm itself. Twilight didn't need to fling her consciousness into the gale the way Luna was doing in order to feel its power. Somewhere deep within that massive black wall of clouds lightning flashed and winds howled. It crouched over them like some great elemental beast, a living thing that could no more take notice of the airship than Twilight could take notice of a dust mite. Daunting wasn't quite the word. Yet Twilight's confidence was bolstered by her success against the wind.

Time passed. The sun sank down to the horizon, but it didn't set. Twilight found herself mentally reviewing old and exciting textbooks and losing track of time. She realized with a start that maybe an hour had passed without the sun properly setting. Of course it wont. Both Celestia and Luna are distracted. A subtle feeling of alarm began to creep up Twilight's tail and spine. Has something gone wrong? Shouldn't Luna have snapped out of it by now?

She decided to give them another ten minutes. After ten minutes had gone by, more or less, she decided to give them another five. Ponyfeathers. Keeping her Wind Defense System in place with firm concentration, Twilight decoupled her safety harness from the deck and made her way forward. She had to stop twice to adjust her shields against gusts, helping the airship remain steady. When she closed in on the pair, she noticed that Luna looked like she was miles away; which, mentally at least, she probably was. On the other hoof, Celestia looked strained.

"Princess?" No response. She shook her wet mane out of her eyes. "Princess, can you hear me?" Neither alicorn stirred. Twilight reached out a hoof to touch Celestia's wing.

Instantly Twilight's head filled with a cacophony of rushing wind and frothing waves and constant, grumbling and crackling thunder. She pitched her voice into the din. "CELESTIA!!!" Her voice resonated out along unseen leylines stretching far beyond what she could sense. But without transition Celestia's consciousness was there, surrounding her. Twilight was certain her mentor didn't mean for her mental voice to be as overwhelming as it was. "What is it, child?" Nevertheless, Twilight was flung away from her, snapping back into her own body with a cry.

She rolled a few feet across the deck like a rag doll, all of her attention focused on her fading shields. A gust had slipped through, and the deck of the airship canted a little, juddering beneath her side. An eyelet dug painfully into her ribs, but she had no attention to spare. With an effort of will the shields solidified, the airship righted itself, and Luna's Canterlot Voice shook the deck. "WHAT EMERGENCY TRANSPIRES?"

Celestia regained her poise within a breath. "There is no emergency here."

"THEN WHY BRING US BACK? WE HAD ONLY BEGUN TO UNDERSTAND. . ."

"Please, sister. . ."

"Ahem, our apologies. Why was our sojourn cut short?" They both noticed Twilight picking herself painfully up off of the deck, and Luna's confrontational tone immediately softened a little. "Twilight Sparkle, art thou hurt?"

Twilight stretched out each leg in turn. "No, I'm fine. It's just that. . . well, you'd both been gone so long, I thought something must have gone wrong. I got worried."

Celestia studied Twilight's shields and nodded in satisfaction. "Why, how long have we been out here, my student?"

"I'm not entirely certain, your Highness. Um, three hours? Maybe more?"

"Hmmm. . ." Luna pulled at her mane in what must have been an entirely unconscious gesture of frustration. "Moments only, as it seemed to us. Yet we are now certain that this storm is a construct."

"As we expected." Celestia responded. "Can it be dispersed?"

"Gah, it would require an age to unravel this cyclone. The pressure systems are both stable and strong. We fear it is being fed by a terrible power."

"We have faced terrible powers together before, dear sister."

Luna's smile made her look positively young. "We have. That we have. However, we could gather no scent nor sign of the storm's maker. It could very well be here, within the eye. It was too cunningly hidden for us to detect."

"And that will make cutting the straight path too dangerous." Celestia scratched her chin in thought. "What's the distance to the far side?"

"Two days, assuming Sir Thistle Down can hold a straight course and a steady pace."

"I have full confidence in our flight crew." Celestia sighed. "Yet if we two are expending our magic keeping the Vigil safe from the storm. . ."

"Prospects against our unseen foe grow dim should it attack, more so in light of the fragile nature of our dirigible."

Twilight interjected with a raised hoof. "Wait, what exact spells will we need to fly through this mess?"

Celestia explained. "A windbreak will be essential, and as you've demonstrated flat planes work fairly well. However, the winds near the core of this storm will be harsh enough to scour an average house down to the floorboards, so focus will be key."

"We shall also require protection from lightning." Luna added. "With proper grounding, a simple lightning rod spell wouldst be easier to manage than a dispersion shield. Either are likely boons any of us can maintain through a day of travel."

"And you'll need the Elements of Harmony." Twilight mused. "And the Elements will need to be ready at a moment's notice."

Luna turned to consider the landscape of clouds before them, her mane damp from the light rain flung their way. The Princess of the Night laughed. "It seems our only safe passage through this quagmire is to expose ourselves, all of us, to the storm's fury and cast our defiance into its teeth! Ha-hah! Such indelible irony!" As she spoke her horn began to glow, ushering in the night.

Twilight scrunched her face up in doubt. "I don't think my friends are going to be okay with this. . ."

"They want you to do what?" Spike wrung his hands, wide-eyed and anxious.

"Oh, I'm so in! This is going to be the ultimate thrill ride!" Rainbow Dash's eyes were wide with excitement. "How could anypony pass up a chance like this?"

"Um, I could pass up a chance like this." Fluttershy offered, curled up on a nearby bench. The bags beneath her eyes made her look tired and worried, as though she hadn't slept well in weeks.

"I'm game!" Pinkie Pie bounced joyfully in place. "It'll be just like a slumber party, except we wont slumber at all and we'll be out in the rain and we probably wont be able to party, but at least we'll be together!"

"You do realize this escapade will be long and unpleasantly dangerous." Rarity pleaded. "Not to mention absolutely devastating to our manes." She pouted.

"There's nopony out here to impress with our mane-dos!" Twilight glared. "From the sounds of it, Celestia will be able to hold off the wind, and Luna will keep the lightning from striking the ship. Plus, we'll all be tethered to the ship itself. I don't think it will be all that dangerous."

Dash hovered in close, "So, why do they need us out there in the first place?" She tapped the crown resting behind Twilight's horn.

"Okay, so it might be a little dangerous." Twilight conceded. "They believe some powerful being must have created the storm, and we need the Elements ready in case it attacks us."

"So long as we can blast first and ask questions later, it sounds fine to me." Dash patted Rarity on the back, earning a glare of her own.

"Hey AJ!" Pinkie Pie snatched the worn stetson off of Applejack's head and plopped it on her own. "Yur tha' only pardner hasn't weighed in in these parts, ya'hear!"

Applejack made a swipe for her hat, but Pinkie danced out of reach. "I swear, Pinkamena Diane Pie, it's a lucky thing you're so buckin' adorable."

"Yep!" The party pony agreed.

Applejack gave up on hat retrieval and started scuffing a hoof in thought. "To be honest, I don't really like the sounds of it. Then again, I reckon I haven't liked the sounds of anything we've been through since we left Ponyville. Ya' see, I don't want to be here at all." From the bench, Fluttershy nodded her sad agreement. "I belong on the farm, with my family and my friends and my small, purdy little hometown. I didn't ask to be an Element of Harmony and get caught up in magic and battles and changeling hives and such. I'm a simple pony at heart, through and through."

"Yet, I reckon it all comes down to the same stitch on the saddle, don't it? We don't pull in no harvest unless we tend the trees. And all the peace and harmony I've come to cherish in my home, well I reckon it needs some tending too." Twilight's breath caught in her throat as Applejack continued. "If harmony needs me to be more than an applebuckin' family girl, then I'm gonna try an' be whatever it needs me to be. 'Sides, we can't very well turn tail now, can we? Not after the hornet's nest we stirred up in Nova Coltia. I say, if the Princesses think we can do it, then we gotta try."

Rarity was the first to throw a hoof about Applejack. "Of course you're right, darling. I couldn't possibly have said it better."

"Well then, I'll be out there with you." Spike's determined glare was betrayed by the dampness in his eyes.

Twilight gasped. "Spike, why? It's so much more sensible for you to stay safely inside!"

"You aren't leaving me behind, Twilight." There was no whining or pleading in his tone. "I'm not going to lose you again. Besides, I'm waterproof, remember? I can hang on to supplies and hand out food. . ."

It was a stretch and he knew it. Twilight nearly lashed out in frustration and anger, just like she did when Spike first suggested tagging along late that night in the Ponyville library. But another memory followed upon the hind hooves of the first one; Spike's expression when Twilight tried to make him stay. And the way he turned his back on her in the changeling hive, because she'd turned her back on him. All that after he had literally saved their hides. Maybe he'd earned her respect in this. Maybe being a good parent, even to a dragon, meant learning how to trust. He certainly didn't act like a baby anymore. Twilight sighed. "I'll see if we can find a harness to fit you."

"Are you serious, Twilight?" Fluttershy's melodious voice quavered with panic. "He's just a baby dragon!"

"You're right, Fluttershy." Twilight agreed. "I could use your help keeping an eye on him."

Fluttershy recoiled, noticing how she'd backed herself into a corner. Her trembling intensified. Then, with a pronounced shudder, she sighed, and all of her shaking stopped. Without another word, she climbed to her feet like a resigned prisoner facing the gallows. "I. . . I guess. . . I suppose you do." Her red eyes were dry. "I guess we have to find out what's on the other side sooner or later."

"The other side of the storm?" Twilight asked.

"Um. . . yeah, sure."

They spent the night hovering out of reach of the storm's winds. Thistle relieved his best crew members and ordered them to rest and eat. Celestia and Luna advised their subjects to do the same. Celestia raised a delicate eyebrow at the mention that Spike would be joining them upon the flight deck, but she made no objection. The Captain made it a point to mention, several times, that the ship hadn't been tested in those kinds of winds. Celestia reminded him that she would be working to keep those winds at bay, and that he should trust her abilities.

The following morning found everyone aboard up before the dawn, gathering supplies in the forehall. Sun Shade had conjured up every safety harness the ship had, but it only amounted to half a dozen. With Applejack's help, Sun Shade rigged up a couple of extra harnesses out of a long coil of sturdy rope. And she tied together a small version for Spike. Although the royal sisters declined them, the other six ponies were provided with bright yellow rain slickers, despite Luna's warning that they would do little good. Snacks were passed around, and Spike got himself what looked like an overlarge fanny pack he cinched around his waist, filled with sustenance. He smiled proudly.

The royal sisters took up spots next to one another in the center of the flight deck. Twilight and her friends unfortunately had to spread out around the railing to find enough eyelets so they could each tether themselves to one. Twilight found herself near the prow, and Sun Shade double-checked her harness and her tether for her before moving on to Spike, tethered behind her. He was staring up at the monstrous storm before them in trepidation. Twilight tried to say 'We'll be fine' with a smile. A thrilled Rainbow Dash offered some reassuring words to Fluttershy, who looked as though she were staring into an open grave.

On the bridge Thistle Down gave the order, and Clouded Gaze eased the airship forward, hoping to cut a straight path through the clouds. The crew collectively held their breath in grim silence. No one moved as they accelerated to a fast clip. Celestia finished raising the sun on their approach, and as the winds picked up a pair of sunshine-yellow shields sprang to life, angled into the wind. Luna's horn glimmered and shone, and a beacon of light extended into the sky; a magical lightning-sink that would draw stray bolts like a magnet, keeping Aether's Vigil safe.

The clouds gradually devoured the sky, blotting out the weak light of dawn and bringing with them a pelting rain that, while uncomfortable, wasn't quite as cold as it looked. Soon, any possible voice or sound was drowned out by a constant, overwhelming roar. All the light disappeared, save for the illumination provided by the sisters' spells and the occasional flash of lightning. A few stray bolts turned mid-strike and vanished into Luna's thin beacon of light. Fewer than Twilight had imagined, anyway.

The deck was instantly slick with rain, soaking everything in a horizontal deluge that Celestia's shields only partially diverted. The only wind that reached them did so indirectly, skirling around the edges of Celestia's shield, but it was still enough to make everyone hunker down against the deck. Rarity tried to keep her mane underneath a plastic cap adorned with a pattern of roses and lilacs, but she gave up in disgust when the wind snatched it away. Applejack noticed, and kept one hoof firmly atop her worn stetson from that point on.

Rainbow Dash exulted in the storm, her eyes bright. She didn't dare take off, even to the extent that her rope tether would allow, but that didn't stop her from spreading her wings and letting the turbulent air slide her around a little. Her excited grin was infectious whenever Twilight craned her head around to look at her. Pinkie Pie started bugging Spike for snacks about ten minutes in, using elaborate and frantic hoof gestures. Spike, displaying more maturity than Twilight had honestly expected, shook his head no. Fluttershy just curled into herself and shut her eyes.

Twilight, with a resigned sigh, pushed her senses out into the storm about them. It felt much the same as when she touched Celestia's wing last night. The force of the storm seemed chaotic and alive; unceasing movement and unending noise. Yet the storm took no notice of them. They were but a tiny leaf fallen into a river, a flake of chaff in a field. The hurricane flailed at the ocean far below and howled its rage toward the sky, but Aether's Vigil slipped through it like a knife. Twilight spared a thought for the crew. It was unlikely that any of them slept. Most of them, it was likely, hardly dared breathe. The tenacity and courage required for such an attempt required a great deal of faith and courage, among other things.

It was difficult, sifting through all of that noise and sensation looking for possible threats, but Twilight kept at it. After the first hour, she even found she didn't have to try quite so hard. It was as though the storm had become background noise, deafeningly loud, but constant enough that her brain had acclimated to it. All she had to do now was keep her senses open for a change, an off-note in the elemental symphony being played about her.

Hours dragged by in the cold and the dark. Flashes of lightning became more and more frequent as Twilight took the time to levitate some of Spike's snacks to the other ponies waiting in wet misery. More hours dragged by, and she distributed food yet again. Twilight found herself trying to push the airship faster with her magic, hoping to speed their progress. They were all going to come down with vicious colds at this rate. Twilight wondered, briefly, if she'd ever come across a spell for giving ponies gills. She actually had to try to keep from breathing in the ever-present water as it pelted the deck and worked its way underneath her useless rain slicker. Luna was right, she may as well have gone swimming with the slicker on for all the good it did. Actually, it might honestly be drier just to swim to shore.

More hours passed. Twilight wished she had some sort of watch that could keep working even when wet. Then she found herself wishing for many, many other things. Most of which were towels, preferably fresh out of a dryer. But through it all, she tried her best to keep her senses open for danger, no matter how overwhelmed and exhausted she might feel. Even if time seemed to stretch out into a soggy, windblown and deafening forever. Had it been twenty-four hours yet? Ugh. was the most coherent thought Twilight could put together.

"Twilight Sparkle!" Celestia's voice, amplified magically, startled Twilight into standing bolt upright, her heart racing. "Please take the shields a moment!"

"Okay!" Twilight realized there was no way she could possibly have been heard, so she nodded, and her horn lit up. Rather than create her own, she simply took hold of Celestia's golden shields, holding firm against the gale. The wind flowed constantly, forcing itself against the shield like a mighty river. Twilight had to brace herself against her tether and splay her legs to keep from being overwhelmed by the sheer weight of it. Celestia's presence withdrew cautiously, ensuring the shields didn't waver. Then she pierced the heavens with her own silver-gold beam of light, mirroring her sister's spell so Luna could drop her own with a sigh.

Oh, she's raising the moon. Twilight already felt weary beyond all reason. After a brief eternity, Twilight felt Princess Luna take control of the shields, and Twilight relaxed. Stretching out her limbs, and fighting a cramp in her hind leg, (Pinkie Pie called it a Charlie Horse, for some reason.) she pushed her senses back out into the storm and steeled herself for more waiting. Is this the worst day of my life so far? Why yes, I believe it is. When the waiting ended, however, Twilight Sparkle found herself sluggishly unprepared.

Twilight had kept herself alert for any possible danger hidden in the storm. This is why she didn’t notice the wind rip the loading crane off of its mount until the giant metal arm had clipped Princess Celestia, sending her to the deck as the crane slid towards Rarity. Fluttershy froze in panic. Twilight focused her will and grabbed the skidding metal arm of the crane with her magic. But Celestia’s shields had vanished when she fell and the winds redoubled, slicing across the deck of the airship like a scythe.

Even though strong ropes tethered Twilight to the deck, she could feel the airship losing speed, itself being spun out of control by the storm. She couldn’t stop the crane skidding towards the guardrail and Rarity, she could only slow it down. Twilight began to see red as she planted her hooves and poured more of her will into her spell. Her vision was narrowing; she could no longer see any of her friends. She heard somebody shout out a warning as Rarity’s eyes widened in panic, and Rarity braced her shoulder against the guardrail and aimed her brightly-lit horn towards the center I-beam on the crane as it slid into her.

Several things happened at once. Another’s magic joined her own, and Twilight recognized Luna’s will as the two of them struggled together to stop the crane. At the same instant, there was a metallic sound like some unimaginable beast squealing in pain as the crane smashed into the guardrail. It was the single loudest thing Twilight had ever heard. She was still straining with all her might, and with Luna’s help finally lifted the crane arm up and over the side of the airship where the wind clawed it into the darkness just one second too late.

From behind her, she heard Pinkie Pie shout, “Spike, NO!” Twilight thought she might faint, but as she gasped in a shaky breath, she saw Spike sliding past her across the rain-slicked deck, his eyes locked on Rarity’s still form collapsed against the dented and mangled guardrail. Spike’s tether rope was still tied around his scaly waist, but the rope near the knot looked frayed. Twilight felt her heart skip when she realized he must have chewed through it.

It didn’t take long to lose so many friends, Twilight noticed, just a couple of heartbeats and they were gone. Yet she seemed to have all the time in the world to note the exact instant when Spike’s eyes changed from concerned to afraid. He hit the guardrail next to Rarity’s unconscious form and lunged for her tether line just as a hard gust slammed into the side of the ship. Spike’s head hit the rail, stunning him as the wind scooped him over the side.

Rainbow Dash was only a split-second behind him, having slipped her ropes when she noticed Spike freeing himself. She slid through a bend in the metal rail and grabbed the end of Spike’s rope in her teeth. She bent her hind legs back to catch the guardrail. For a moment she hung off the side of the airship while Spike reached out to grab her hoof. Twilight managed to envelop Dash with her magic and she started her teleportation spell, hoping to bring them back within reach.

But a great bolt of searing white light struck the ship, sight and sound and senses overwhelmed into silence and emptiness. The feral lightning bolt erased a moment in time and revealed the blank canvas of the universe before creation. Twilight's vision began to clear before her hearing did, colors filtering back into existence. She almost wished it hadn't, because Dash and Spike were nowhere to be seen.

Pinkie Pie screamed into the rain, “DAAAAAAASH!” Applejack had been pulling more rope from her pack, tying knots to try and mount a rescue safely, but now she just stared in dismay. Twilight gasped for breath, she couldn’t quite seem to get enough air into her lungs. Luna looked singed and weary, having redirected the current of electricity away from the ship. Her expression was ashen and ill, but she wasted no time in trying to set herself against the storm once again. Luna summoned a pair of shields, trying to hold off the chaos of the gale long enough for the flight crew to regain control of the Vigil.

Fluttershy glanced around in panic for a few moments. Then she closed her eyes and seemed to reach a decision. “No.” She said quietly to herself. It wasn’t denial, or desperation, only a simple statement of fact. Then she began calmly freeing herself from her own restraints, working the wet ropes free. The slashing rain couldn’t quite mask the tears in her eyes.

Twilight shook her head in frustration. Where had all the air gone? She couldn’t get enough breath in her lungs to protest Fluttershy’s decision. Pinkie Pie made a grab for her, but Fluttershy pushed away from the deck of the ship and let the wind whisk her away. She didn’t even try to fight it. Then she was gone too. Twilight just wanted to collapse, maybe sink into the deck of the ship and disappear if she could manage it. How had things gone so wrong so quickly? Maybe it would be easier to just faint, she decided.

But Applejack hadn’t stopped working. She’d managed to tie one end of a rope to the rail near herself, and the other end to her makeshift harness, even through the rain and the wind and the plummeting ship. Twilight saw her pass her end to Pinkie Pie. At Applejack’s nod, Pinkie began playing out the rope, slowly lowering Applejack towards Rarity’s position across the canted deck. Twilight noticed that Rarity was still breathing, and she felt a small surge of hope.

Pinkie Pie was sobbing openly, but she played the rope out smoothly, staying focused on Applejack. Another jarring shift in the currents of wind slid Applejack several feet to the side, and Pinkie caught the rope and held it grimly. Applejack hit the wall of the cabin, thankfully not hard, and after a moment motioned Pinkie to keep going. Another breathless moment, and then two, and Applejack bumped against the rail and held on. She made her way over to Rarity, and once she got herself braced against the side she began lashing Rarity’s harness to her own. She didn’t seem to notice when the wind snatched her cowboy hat off her head. But Twilight did. It was then that Twilight realized she could see.

The storm hadn’t given an inch, and it still raged on heedless of anything but itself. But they had plunged below the level of the lowest clouds. The wind was throwing the airship as hard as it could towards the black, frenzied waves of the ocean below. Twilight finally found her breath and began shouting, “AJ! Look out!”

Applejack had just started to unclasp Rarity from the guardrail when Twilight’s warning caused her to look up. Then she glanced over the side. She gasped, hesitating for a moment as the waters rushed up to meet them. Then she re-secured Rarity’s ropes and wrapped herself around her friend’s still form, trying to protect her from the impact.

Luna’s shields, a darker black against the deep grey clouds, could only hold off the very worst of the gale. She couldn’t seem to stop the airship’s steep plunge. She kept trying though, her wet mane whipping about her face as she strained against the winds. Celestia stirred at her sister’s side, and then lifted her head, blinking. It was in that moment Twilight felt a thrumming in the air. A hint of gleeful malice, a taste of bitterness that was gone the moment it was felt. But Celestia’s dazed eyes widened in shock, and Luna threw her head back and roared in challenge.

“You!” Luna seemed consumed with inexplicable fury, blue eyes narrowed dangerously, angling her neck around to shout straight at the storm. “I know you, Traitor of Life! We will NOT BE TAKEN SO EASILY!” There was a brief flash of darkness from Luna’s horn, and the winds stuttered and limped as if the storm itself had been taken by surprise.

Luna staggered, but Celestia pushed herself up on three hooves, supporting her sister and keeping her from falling. The ocean loomed frighteningly close, all huge rolling waves and spume. Celestia focused, and shaped a protective light-yellow bubble around the ship just before it hit the waves. Pinkie Pie wrapped herself around Applejack’s rope, holding on for dear life despite the fact that it was tied off. Twilight braced herself, and then found herself out of moments.

The airship hit the water with a deafening crash, dark water parting around Celestia’s protective bubble and flinging itself into the sky. The deck of the airship seemed to leap up at Twilight and flattened her as though a dragon had hit her with a picnic table. For a moment, through the protective spell, it looked as though the airship and her friends were at the bottom of a fifty-foot crater made of water. Then, with a mighty roar, it came crashing down all around them, plunging them under. Twilight covered her ears, squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the end.

The silence and calm that followed was almost more frightening than the terrible violence of fighting the storm. Twilight’s ears were ringing. She opened her eyes to see the deck of the ship still unbroken, and Pinkie Pie’s wide eyes, pupils constricted with alarm. She turned and saw Applejack, still curled protectively around Rarity. Only then did Twilight notice they were all underwater. Dark black ocean lay in every direction beyond the thin yellow of Celestia’s shield, and the surface above was just a fading grey as the ship continued its plunge into the depths.

Twilight watched Celestia’s eyes narrow, and her lips began to pull back into a snarl. The force against the outside of the shield must have been tremendous. The only sound was fast, panicky breathing and low creaks and groans from the ship itself. Celestia’s legs began shaking. Twilight noticed the gash running along Celestia’s flank, right through the middle of her cutie mark, splitting the sun in half in a ragged line where she’d been hit by the crane. It was bleeding slowly.

It couldn’t end like this. Twilight locked eyes with Luna for a moment, and they both nodded together. Luna gently helped her older sister settle onto the deck. Celestia tucked her forelegs under herself and lay on her uninjured hip. Then Luna slowly touched her horn to her sister’s, and she began to share the burden of keeping out all that water.

Twilight knew what she had to do, but that didn’t make it easy. She felt so tired. Physically drained, emotionally drained, even magically she didn’t think she had much left. But her friends needed her. What friends she had left. The rulers of the land she called home were struggling to pull them through this crisis. She couldn’t give up. No matter how tired she was. No matter how badly she was shaking. No matter that everything seemed hopeless. So long as she had even one friend to protect she couldn’t give up. Could she?

Twilight began unclasping her harness. Applejack glanced up and said simply, “Twilight. . .” With one word Applejack managed to convey her concern, her fear, her unwillingness to lose someone else, and her knowledge that Twilight needed to try anyhow. Twilight focused on slipping out of her harness despite her shaking hooves. When she wiggled free, she began slowly walking towards Celestia and Luna. The deck of the airship was canted away from them a bit, but it was only a few steps. The surface above vanished completely. Twilight walked behind the sisters, and wedged her small body between them. Luna leaned into her, stabilizing her against Celestia’s side, stilling her shaking and sharing what comfort and warmth there was to be had with that one simple gesture. Twilight took a deep breath, let it out, and then stretched her neck up to join her horn and her power with theirs.

At once, Twilight could feel the aching pressure from all sides. She couldn’t believe the sheer force of it all. It hurt her mind, caused genuine pain, feeling the weight of the ocean all around her. But she could also tell that they weren’t sinking anymore. Celestia had trapped quite a lot of air within her shield, and even though the airship itself was enormous, it was built for flight. It didn’t weigh as much as it looked. They would float to the surface if they could just hold out long enough.

Twilight couldn’t tell how long they struggled in silence. It could have been hours, or half of a day, even though it was probably only two or three minutes. Without moving her body, her mind writhed with the pain. It was unbearable. It felt like her skull might split. She instinctively needed to escape it, and she began to hyperventilate. She couldn’t do this. Her head twitched to the left, then the right.

Through her rising panic, Twilight felt Celestia and Luna holding on together, sharing the pain and the burden between them. And Twilight noticed that neither Luna nor Celestia actually resisted the pain. They just accepted it, without struggling. Easy for them, being a kerjillion years old. She thought to herself. Yet she took a steadying breath, and tried to stop fighting it. For a while she just welcomed the pain. As bad as it was, it wouldn’t kill her. Pain was only pain. It had its own role and its own uses. It was a part of her, and it belonged to her. Her breathing slowed. Each agonizing second stretched on forever, but she held on.

When they finally broke the surface, Twilight gasped and broke contact. Luna did the same, looking even more exhausted than Twilight felt. A moment later, Celestia’s shield shattered, and the storm came howling back in. However Luna had countered the storm earlier, it hadn’t stopped it for long. If anything, the storm seemed even more violent than before. As the shield fell, a sledgehammer of wind broke across the side of the airship, rolling it dangerously onto its side.

The dark ocean water surged up quickly towards Applejack and Rarity. Applejack barely had time to cover the unconscious Rarity’s mouth with a hoof and gasp her own breath before they both vanished from sight, swallowed by the icy waters.

Celestia and Luna both slid to the end of their tethers, their hooves scrabbling uselessly for purchase against the deck of the ship as it lifted nearly horizontal. Twilight felt herself in free fall for a moment, watching the water surging around the ship. It looked very, very cold. The salty spray stung her nose as her hooves flailed uselessly. Then something snagged her tail and her free fall stopped with her nose just inches from the waterline. Then she hit the deck.

She saw that Luna was mostly submerged, but her tethers held her in place. Princess Luna was being swept back towards the cabin by the current, but even though she seemed able to stretch her head and neck clear of the ocean, the water that crashed against her flew up into her mouth and nose. She sputtered and struggled to turn her head away. When Twilight glanced behind her, she saw that Princess Celestia was practically hanging upside-down in her own harness, and had her tail in her mouth. Up above them all, Pinkie Pie dangled from the other guardrail next to the rope Applejack had tied off.

Twilight pointed to the rope and shouted to be heard over the storm. “You have to swing me over!”

Celestia hesitated, filled with trepidation. The rope hung several feet away, and was dripping wet. All around them ocean water surged and frothed. The wind must have been pushing the airship through the water at an incredible speed. But despite the other dangers, at least the hull of the airship was acting as a windbreak now, shielding them from the worst of the wind and rain. And two ponies were in terrible danger. Celestia didn’t hesitate for more than a second. She began swinging Twilight back and forth by her tail, getting higher with each pass. On the third swing, she let go. As Twilight flew through the air she could feel the wind try to snatch her away from her target and hurl her into the sea. But the gust wasn’t quite strong enough. Twilight snagged the rope in one arm, brought herself close as she began to slide down it, and sank her teeth into the rough, scratchy threads of Applejack’s rope.

Twilight clamped her front hooves onto the rope, and then did the same with her back hooves. Only then did she open her mouth, stretch her neck upwards, and bite further up the line. Like an inchworm she clambered up the wet rope. A distant, detached corner of her mind wondered what the rope was made of, and why it actually tasted good covered in sea salt. She must have been hungrier than she thought. A mad giggle threatened to bubble out of Twilight’s chest, and she forced it back down.

She reached the rail before she realized it, and a pink pair of hooves reached down and hauled Twilight up by main force. Pinkie Pie had already climbed her own tether rope, and now perched on the upper rail in the wind, her hind legs wrapped around the rail to steady her in the pummeling wind. Her wet pink mane snapped in the howling gale like a banner. With Pinkie Pie’s help, Twilight managed to climb up next to her and brace herself. The moment she was set, Pinkie began hauling on Applejack’s rope, trying to pull her back up. Twilight tried to help.

It was like trying to lift a house. They strained, but to no avail. It felt so useless. Twilight hated being such a small filly. Her brother probably could have managed it. But what could she do? Her friends were out of time, and she was out of magic and out of strength. The surging wind caught Twilight from behind and she felt herself slipping. She had to drop the rope to steady herself. She nearly broke down and cried there.

Pinkie Pie turned and screamed over the gale. “We have to think of something!”

Twilight realized in that moment that she wasn’t so helpless after all. Sure she was magically spent, and then some. If she lived through this, she knew she’d have a headache she would never, ever forget. Sure she was achingly tired. But she could still think. And so long as she could think, it would never be hopeless. Twilight remembered Applejack re-securing Rarity to the guardrail before they hit the water. It was probably the only thing keeping them from being swept away in the current, aside from the line Twilight and Pinkie were hauling on. Applejack was a smart mare; she probably wouldn’t untie Rarity’s tether unless she knew somepony was on the other end of the line.

Twilight grabbed the rope and gave it three sharp tugs. She felt two in return. Then the line started moving. “Help me!” Twilight shouted, and the two of them resumed hauling on the rope. It wasn’t much easier than before, but at least it was moving this time. Eventually they broke the surface, a good four or five pony-lengths further down the deck towards the cabin, past the spot where Luna was trapped fighting the current. She heard Applejack gasp a desperate, hacking breath, and then two, despite water frothing everywhere. Twilight sobbed in relief. Rarity was still limp, but Applejack managed to keep her head above water for her.

Pinkie Pie called out. “Applejack! You’re alive!”

Twilight leaned towards Pinkie. “We need to pull them back towards Luna!” Pinkie nodded in agreement, and they hauled with all their might. Foot by foot, Applejack and Rarity drew closer to Luna, and Applejack reached out, grabbing a hold of Luna’s shoulder and hauling Rarity in between them. Applejack positioned Rarity in front of Luna, where Luna could support most of her weight, then Applejack pulled herself in front of them both with her back facing the current to try to keep their mouths clear of the bitter salt water.

The door to the cabin burst inward, and a lone earth pony clambered into view. Sun Shade glanced around quickly, apparently doing an impromptu head count, her raven-black mane quickly clawed by the wind onto unkempt strands. Her expression turned bleak. She glanced over her shoulder, back into the cabin, and shouted some muffled instructions. Then she called out, “Princess Celestia! Where are the others? Spike and Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash?” When Celestia shook her head slowly from where she hung in her harness, Sun Shade hung her head in sadness for a heartbeat or two. Then she seemed to reassert her self-control. She glanced down at the trio in the water. “What about Rarity?” Sunshade shouted, “Is she alright?”

Applejack replied, “I ain’t sure! But we’ve got to get her inside right away!”

Sun Shade nodded. “There’s five of us here to help, so we should be able to lift the three of you together!” She glanced behind her again. “In a moment, I will throw you a weighted rope. Please secure yourselves to it!”

“Heh, ‘please.’ That’s rich.” Applejack muttered. A few moments later, Sun Shade reached down and lifted a sumptuous silk cushion into view. Another rope was tied around it. Sun Shade hesitated a moment, and then threw the heavy cushion towards Applejack and Luna. The wind caught it, and it spun wide, but Luna’s magic enveloped it and floated it to within reach. Even perched atop the guardrail where she was, Twilight could see the effort it cost Luna to throw even more magic around. She looked like she nearly fainted.

Applejack caught the cushion, untied the rope and dropped the cushion into the current where it was instantly snatched away. A faint look of regret crossed Sun Shade’s eyes then, but she said nothing. Applejack began threading their harnesses together with the rope, and detaching Luna from the eyebolts secured to the deck. It took a minute, and Twilight found herself looking around a bit. This high up, catching the full force of the wind and the rain from behind her, she realized just how cold she’d become. She couldn’t feel her hooves anymore, or much of her legs. She’d stopped shivering a couple of minutes ago, and she was sure that wasn’t a good sign. It likely didn’t help that she’d spent so much of her energy magically over the past day, trying to push the airship along. Her stomach growled again, insisting that she find some sort of sustenance in this crazy situation. Twilight Sparkle scowled at her belly. She was in no mood to be pushed around and bullied by her internal organs.

“You hush.” Twilight told her stomach. “You’re not important right now, so just keep it to yourself.” Her stomach settled down with one last gurgle. Satisfied, Twilight looked up to see Pinkie staring at her, her eyes wide and nervous. Twilight shrugged, embarrassed, and continued looking around.

The wind was no longer chaotic or gusty, not since Luna attacked the storm directly. The wind seemed like a retaliation, a continuous and steady wind that didn’t abate or change, but swept angrily across the endless ocean like a bulldozer. It kept the ship canted onto its side, but it also leveled any ocean swells that might have washed across the ship and pulled them back under water. Instead, when Twilight squinted out across the ocean, all she saw was a nearly flat expanse stretching in every direction. It was deeply unsettling to see so much power and force exercised upon the world.

Twilight hadn’t realized how close she had been to nodding off until Pinkie Pie nudged her, and she startled awake, nearly losing her grip on the wet metal at the same time. Pinkie leaned in close. “They’re ready! Help me lift them up!” Sun Shade was motioning them to help pull. At Twilight’s nod, Applejack undid the last clasp, and Sun Shade slid from sight, presumably to help the other ponies below haul on their line. Twilight and Pinkie pulled hard on their rope, and together Luna and Applejack cleared the water, supporting Rarity between them. Twilight and Pinkie played out some of their slack as Sun Shade’s team gently pulled the dripping wet trio up to the cabin door, where Sun Shade reappeared and helped pull all three of them into the relative safety of the cabin entrance.

None too soon, it would seem. Twilight glanced down to where Luna was tethered just a minute ago, and saw one of the ship’s eyebolts slowly disappear beneath the surface. They were taking on water. They were sinking. Twilight wanted to scream in frustration, burst into tears and laugh hysterically all at once. Fortunately, she lacked the energy for any of those things. But really, how could anything possibly get any worse? She met Celestia’s gaze, and shouted, “I think we’re sinking!”

Pinkie Pie turned towards Twilight. “We’re WHAT?”

Celestia nodded tiredly. Just then Sun Shade reappeared. Painfully tapping into the last reserves of her own magic, Twilight cupped her hooves to her mouth to pitch her voice farther. “Sun Shade! Keep the rope taut! I’m sending Pinkie down! Then tie your rope to this one and send it back!” Sun Shade seemed to understand immediately, and she gave Twilight a decisive nod.

Twilight unclasped Pinkie’s tether rope from the guardrail and urged her over to Applejack’s rope. Crawling across the guardrail was a slow, slippery and dangerous process, but Pinkie managed it without mishap. Twilight wrapped Pinkie’s tether rope around the rescue rope and clipped it back to her harness.

Pinkie Pie said. “Twilight, you’re coming with me, right?”

Twilight shook her head. “I left my harness behind. It’d be too easy for me to fall, Pinkie. Have you ever gone zip lining before?”

Pinkie glanced down at the water, and back towards the cabin before turning back to Twilight. “I never have. But I think I get the idea.”

Twilight took Pinkie’s face in her hooves and looked her in the eyes. “Neither have I! But I hear it’s really, really fun!”

Pinkie thought for half a second before breaking into a genuine, albeit sad, smile. Pinkie nodded and said. “Okey dokey lokey. I’ll see you inside.” Then she pushed away from Twilight and the rail, and slid down the rope to safety. Twilight waited for the rescue team to prep the last rope, and she took another look around. Suddenly a jet of water burst from the side of the airship and into the sky, where the wind tore the jet into droplets and whisked them away, adding to the horizontal rain. All up and down the side of the ship similar jets appeared, as the airship crew began working pumps to try and keep the ship afloat. Twilight felt another small surge of hope, and marveled at how powerful a little bit of hope could be.

When Sun Shade reappeared and gave Twilight a wave, Twilight began hauling the rope back hoof over hoof. She felt a sharp twinge in her shoulder. Twilight cringed as she realized she must have pulled something lifting her friends earlier. She didn’t slow down though, she couldn’t afford to. When she reached the end of the first rope she found a second rope tied to it. She untied the ropes, and wrapped the second rope around her waist and tied it off. For a brief moment she mentally thanked Applejack for teaching them all a thing or two about knots.

She began descending the first rope towards Celestia. She wasn’t a foot away from the top guardrail before her numb hooves slipped on the wet rope and she began plummeting towards the ocean. Twilight wrapped an arm around the rope in panic, but rope zipped through her arms without slowing. That burned. She couldn’t stop her fall on her own. Sun Shade shouted something Twilight couldn’t make out.

Then she stopped falling, just like that. Twilight looked up, and Celestia’s horn glowed faintly, like a speck of sunshine too far away to be called sunshine. Celestia lifted Twilight into the air with the last of her magic, and floated Twilight closer. As Twilight dropped into Celestia’s arms, she grabbed a hold of Celestia’s harness and looked up gratefully into her mentor’s eyes. Celestia smiled tiredly, and promptly rolled her eyes back into her head and lost consciousness.

Twilight’s heartbeat sped up a notch. She had to hurry, and now she had to rescue them both on her own. She’d left a long end of rope left over when she tied the rope around her own waist, and now she used that bit to secure herself to Celestia’s harness. Then she double-checked her knots, pulling on each one. It took twice as long as it should have, even being nestled between Celestia and the deck of the ship, she was so cold her hooves were moving in slow motion, and she kept fumbling the rope, dropping it and having to start again.

When she felt the knots were as solid as she was going to make them, she began unclasping Celestia’s harness from the deck. When she got to the last one she hesitated, then glanced back up the rope tied to the upper rail. Twilight did not want to go for a swim before reaching the warmth of the cabin. So she threaded Applejack’s rope through Celestia’s harness and held onto it for dear life.

With a wave to Sun Shade and a ready wave back, Twilight unclasped the last coupling, and they both lurched downward, suspended between both ropes. The rescue team pulled them in slowly as Twilight played the rope out, but it didn’t last too long. In well under a minute, Twilight’s grip failed, and the rope slipped away from her. As they fell, swinging downward towards the cabin wall, Twilight had a moment to feel thankful they wouldn’t hit the water. But then she rolled her eyes and braced herself as they hit the cabin wall just above the waterline. The impact was jarring, and Celestia stirred and opened her eyes, glancing around warily. She looked down at Twilight.

“Sorry about that, Princess.” Twilight said with genuine regret. She quirked the corner of her mouth back. Celestia smiled weakly, and glanced upwards. The cabin ponies were hauling them up now, the sideways door of the cabin loomed into view, and Twilight sagged in the ropes. For once she could relax a bit and let someone else do some rescuing. Hooves reached out, and pulled them both into warmth and light. Just being out of the wind for a moment was a blissful sensation, and Twilight closed her eyes and sagged against the floor. She lay there bonelessly, exactly the way a pile of books would. She found the energy for a tiny giggle, and then she sighed deeply. She felt someone untie her from the ropes, and she made no move to help. A minute later, she heard the cabin door wrestled closed, and the sounds of the storm cut down to a muffled roar.

Sun Shade gave orders left and right, instructing two figures to prepare a safe space to care for the injured, and another to help string ropes around the above-water parts of the airship to help them navigate the upturned ship. Applejack helped Twilight get to her feet, and as she stood Twilight opened her eyes. She suffered an immediate sense of vertigo. She’d been lying on the wall, and anything not bolted to the floor had slid about in a jumble. Although she was surprised to see just how much of the airship’s furniture was actually bolted down. The tastefully appointed benches and coat racks, umbrella stands and pictures all remained firmly in place, minus a cushion or two. It was kind of. . . freaky.

The rest was blurry in Twilight’s mind. Somebody helped her climb into the mess hall, and settled her down under some blankets against the wall next to the stove. She was so cold, she felt like she could barely move. She felt herself being adjusted, blankets shifted, and she wound up curled around something warm. Eventually she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Lyral Thredony

The sun sparkled brightly off of Canterlot's elegant spires and cobbled streets alike. The smell of the warm summer air pervading the streets and open market carried just the right balance of baked goods and lilacs. The Canterlot weather team had quite outdone themselves, some ponies might have mentioned. Others might have pointed out the extra couple of hours they'd been given in the afternoon two days before, and why shouldn't they be on top of things? And if the day seemed just a tiny bit colder than yesterday, well that was to be expected when living at such altitudes, wasn't it?

At a table in one of Canterlot University's courtyards, a golden-eyed unicorn poked glumly at the salad she'd ordered. Then she squinted into the harsh glare of the sun, as though it had wilted her appetite long before it could have wilted the lettuce before her.

Sitting across from her, an earth pony with an elegant coif stopped mid-sentence. "I'm sorry, am I boring you?"

"What?" The unicorn perked her ears and straightened her spine. "No. . . I mean, that sounds great. Let's do it." Her usually subdued and melodic voice had an unfamiliar edge to it.

"Do what?" The way her companion said 'what' made this unicorn realize she'd dropped the ball. Again.

Crud. She thought. The unicorn scratched her head with a nervous hoof, but she went on the offensive. "The museum. You said you wanted to go look at the new tech exhibit, right?"

"Lyra, that was like five minutes ago." The earth pony sounded more disappointed than angry.

"Well look, I'm sorry if I've had a long day, okay?" Lyra's tone didn't sound apologetic. "There was a simply massive line at Barns and Noble this morning, and by the time I'd worked my way up the queue they were out of crullers. . ."

"That is a bad omen."

"Right. Anyway, I was late to my first class, so of course Silver Note made me stay to discuss the importance of punctuality in a student of music, completely missing the irony of making me late to my next class. And then my vocal coach gave me more grief about studying multiple instruments as well as voice. And to top it off, I'm certain I nearly failed my music history essay!"

The earth pony nodded in understanding, her blue mane with its rose-pink streak bobbing with her. "Which is why I'm here." She said softly. "To try to make your day a little better."

Lyra sighed heavily and laid her head on the table in front of her. "I know. . ."

"This just doesn't seem like you, Lyra." The earth pony reached out a hoof and placed it over Lyra's. "Enrolling in summer classes, taking on extra courses, pushing yourself like this. . . I mean, I was really looking forward to having you back this summer. Especially after. . ."

Lyra pulled away. "I'm just trying to get ahead, Bon. Is it wrong to apply myself? Seriously, I'd hoped you would be more supportive than this!"

A louder voice managed to interrupt the pair, even before addressing them directly. ". . .'ll be there, you know it! No Scratch, no party, that's right!" The approaching unicorn lifted up a pair of goggles, and made no effort to reduce the volume of her voice. "Wub-a-dub dub, motherbuckers! How's it hangin' on CU's west side?"

Bon Bon's smile was polite, if nothing else. "Just enjoying the beautiful day, Vinyl."

"Yeah, that's great. Listen," Vinyl dropped her voice down from a shout to merely loud. "There's gonna be a party at Neon Light's place this Saturday night. You little fillys down for some bass-dropping bad-assery?"

Lyra glared up from her tray. "I don't know, are you ready to slide from one meaningless party to another, with no objective except to score your next high and eventually die alone in the back alleys of Manehattan un-mourned and useless?"

"Lyra!" Bon Bon gasped in shock.

Vinyl's enthusiasm drained away. ". . . What?" She said, sounding unsure of what to think, let alone say.

Lyra sighed. "Just get out of here. Some of us want to accomplish things with our lives." She went back to poking at her food.

"Tch." Vinyl struggled to gather up her defenses as she beat a hasty retreat. "Whatever. Stuck-up prudes."

Bon Bon waited until they wouldn't be overheard. "Lyra, what's the matter with you? This isn't like you at all!"

"Oh, come on!" The mint pony gestured towards the departed DJ. "She's always shouting about stuff and cheating on tests. . ."

Bon Bon interrupted. "But you haven't always been mean!"

"Oh, is that what it was? I thought it was called 'being honest.'" Lyra snapped.

Bon Bon paused for a heavy breath. "I'm worried about you. Your parents are worried. . ."

"Don't drag them into this!"

"Ever since the changeling incursion, you've just been so distant. . ."

"Yeah, remember that?" Lyra's soft voice wasn't naturally suited to harsh screaming, but she tried. "Because I remember it! I remember being brainwashed! You have no idea what that feels like, do you? That's right, you can't possibly know what it's like! So why are you trying so hard to make me feel like the bad guy here?"

"Hey, don't treat me like I don't care, okay? I traveled all the way up here from Ponyville just to. . ."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have."

Bon Bon's eyes filled with tears. "If you aren't a changeling. . . you sure are changing." She finally said, gathering her things and trotting away.

Lyra watched her go without a word. Then, with a shuddering breath, she grabbed her lyre and her notebooks, and headed out in a different direction.

Of course, all of the practice rooms on campus were taken, so Lyra found herself in the heart of the Canterlot Gardens practicing the more complicated runs she had to master. By the time the sun began setting, Lyra found she still did not want to go back to her apartment. So she found a bench near some statuary and closed her eyes, thinking bleak thoughts about her day. A pair of ponies trotted by, arguing quietly. All I wanted was some peace and quiet. She growled under her breath.

They didn’t understand. None of them understood her need to keep playing, her need to immerse herself in music. Well, her new friend Minuette understood. During the invasion Chrysalis, the Queen of the changelings, had broken and bent both of their psyches. They’d felt their will scooped from their minds like so much ice cream and thrown away, replaced by something dark and spiteful. How could Lyra explain what that felt like to someone else? How could she explain what it felt like to be unmade? She never spoke of it. She didn’t have words for it. During the days that followed Chrysalis’s defeat, Lyra appeared in public, acted out her life, finished her classes, and smiled at the world. But her nights were spent staring at the wall and feeling just as blank.

Only the music she immersed herself in made her feel whole again. It seemed to bring her back to herself, and she reveled in the sensation. And spending time with Minuette helped. Just being around one another helped, knowing that they had both been in that dark place together. She knew that they understood one another. Staying in classes, giving in to the music, spending time with her friends, keeping herself busy, Lyra was starting to feel almost normal. There were more good days than bad, now. But today? Today was definitely a bad day.

She dwelled on her relationship with Bon Bon, one of the gentlest ponies she'd ever met. The two of them had gotten along so very well the first few months. They had a great deal in common. But after the changeling incursion, they started to drift apart. Bon Bon was very supportive and patient, at first, but Lyra always seemed a little cold. A little detached. There was a distance there that she couldn’t breach, and Lyra knew she didn’t hide it well enough. Lyra was no changeling, that was certain, but Bon Bon had accused her of changing, and. . . maybe she had. Lyra found more solace in her music than in Bon Bon's company these days, and Bon always seemed to take that personally. She thought to herself, Maybe I’m not cut out for relationships. Or maybe we’re just too different. It was plausible. If she had changed, maybe their differences were irreconcilable. I should end it tonight.

“Who’s there?” Lyra sat up and quickly looked around. Had she heard something? No, probably just the wind. But she felt like she wasn’t alone. It was the same feeling one gets when you’re standing in a line and someone comes up and stands behind you. Yet, as twilight fell on the garden grounds, Lyra could clearly see she was all alone. She tried to remember what she’d been thinking. Oh, yes. Breaking up with Bon Bon. Maybe she was right. If they had grown apart, then there was no sense in dragging the relationship out any longer. Lyra teared up, feeling worse now than she had all day. She gathered her things and headed back to her apartment.

Had she paid more attention to her surroundings, she might have noticed just which statue she’d been resting near.

16: Loss

Twilight Sparkle fought consciousness for a long time. For several hours she slept without stirring, without dreams, as if her mind or her spirit were still far below the surface of the sea. Of course she was bitterly exhausted, but her sleep went deeper than that. Part of her rejected the waking world because, subconsciously perhaps, she knew how painful it had become. So while she drifted she was also safe from the pain. And even though she slept so deeply she was scarcely breathing, she felt warm, and she felt that she wasn’t alone. So that when she eventually woke, it was into the sensation of being cared for, of being held. As she stirred, as she blinked her violet eyes into focus and lifted her head to look around, she was smiling. For a brief and beautiful moment, everything in the world was okay.

Her faint but content smile faded into puzzlement as she took in her surroundings. A sideways-oriented mess hall loomed over her like some unsettling painting she’d seen in a museum in Canterlot. She lay against the wall, swathed in blankets with another pony’s form curled around her. Daylight poured through the portholes above her, joined by light from lanterns carefully hung from benches bolted to the sideways floor. Ropes had been strung about the room as well, leading up to doorways and between the upright tables. Over the sound of a strong, steady wind distant voices carried concern, but not panic, and the voices were far too indistinct to have any meaning, although they may have been what woke her.

Oh, and there was a sharp, throbbing pain behind both of her temples. A clear symptom of overextending herself magically; she just couldn’t remember actually using any magic. It was clear that wherever Twilight was, something had gone wrong. Her puzzlement became concern. Something has happened, hasn’t it? She thought. Twilight groggily shifted a blanket and found a black-coated leg curled about her, ending in a beautiful and intricate silver hoof-shod. Luna? For a moment, everything seemed impossible. Why am I curled up in blankets with Luna and a headache in a sideways room?

The voices grew louder, and then stopped. A moment later, Pinkie Pie appeared in the sideways door above Twilight and began climbing down towards them. As she climbed, Twilight’s brain finally began to work properly, and she noticed a small but painful detail. Pinkie Pie’s normally curly and bouncy mane hung straight and lank down her back, almost covering her scorched packs. Her pink tail was just as lifeless, and even her coat had lost some of its color. That’s when Twilight's brain discovered some memories which should have been nightmares, by all rights. She felt as though a knife had slipped between her ribs, and she gasped in pain. Behind her, Luna stirred awake. Pinkie Pie reached the floor/wall and turned, meeting Twilight’s gaze. Twilight could see that same pain mirrored in her friend’s light blue eyes.

From behind her, Luna lifted her head. “Ah, Pinkamena. Perhaps your shift this hour shall consist of providing sustenance rather than a vigil. It seems our friend awakens.”

Pinkie Pie glanced at Luna and nodded, wiping at one eye. In a small voice, she said, “Your Highness, Celestia needs your help at the pumps again.”

Luna nodded and rose, shedding the blankets they had been wrapped in. “Of course.” She glanced down at Twilight. In the kindest and softest voice Twilight had ever heard her use, Luna spoke. “Twilight Sparkle. Our little messiah. For your sake we hope our road ends in tranquil meadows, yet we fear we wander yet through the forest.” She placed a gentle hoof on Twilight’s head. “We understand your pain as well as your need for time. Time, however, moves against us. We may need you, young Twilight. Please join us when your grief allows.” Twilight closed her eyes, and tears slipped free down both sides of her face. Luna sighed, and then launched herself up towards the doorway and the airship pegasus who waited for her.

Luna paused on the threshold and turned. "Twilight, there is one more thing. As time grows thin, we must explain now. Our sister, she blames the Darkness for our dalliance with the essence of nightmare. She. . . she is yet mistaken on that score." Then she vanished.

Pinkie's brow creased a little. "What did she mean by that?"

Twilight didn't know. She didn't even try to understand. Twilight just wanted to throw her arms around the usually bubbly, pink pony. Spike. She wanted so badly to break. Dash. It hurt just to breathe. Fluttershy. This wasn’t how things were supposed to happen. Pinkie Pie walked up to her friend, placing each hoof carefully, and just as slowly and deliberately withdrew a pile of wilted daisies and a canteen. She did all of this without meeting Twilight’s gaze again. And Twilight understood. Neither one of them could afford to lose control. Not now. Not when more lives were at stake. Rarity! Twilight managed to croak, “Rarity, how. . . How is she?”

Pinkie Pie didn’t smile. “She’s okay. I mean, she’s not okay okay, but she’ll make it. Here, have some breakfast, and then I’ll take you to see her.”

Twilight stared at the flowers and felt absolutely ravenous. Immediately, her hunger was overwhelmed by a crushing wave of guilt. She very nearly hated herself for feeling something as mundane and normal as hunger. Three of her friends were missing or worse, and she wanted breakfast? Twilight suddenly felt very sick. No. She decided. She remembered Spike’s selfless concern overriding his fear for himself. She remembered Rainbow Dash both thinking and moving faster than she had. There’s no breakfast for my friends. I can live without it too until we find them. She remembered Fluttershy’s quiet acceptance; how she had refused to let those two friends be lost in the sea alone. The memory of her courage or sacrifice, whatever it had been, nearly broke Twilight’s control. Sweet, timid Fluttershy? It was too much. Twilight’s body shook with the force of biting back her sobs.

No. I can not bear this. It hurts too much. Twilight’s mind and will had been honed to a keen edge by years of study and training, and she used that now as a weapon to maim herself, to cut away her grief and her heartache until she was left with nothing but a hollow and empty feeling. When Twilight opened her eyes the world seemed a bit dulled around the edges, perhaps a bit lifeless. And the empty feeling was a sick and horrible thing, but it was better than the grief. When she opened her eyes, they were dry. Her breathing was steady. It hurt so much less when you didn’t allow yourself to care. How interesting. She thought.

When Twilight picked herself up, it was with one shaky hoof at a time. Pinkie Pie leaned into her friend to help steady her, and to take some of her weight. She said nothing, but she radiated understanding and comfort. After a minute passed Twilight moved to stand on her own, and eight or nine rather steady steps later she reached the ropes dangling down from the sideways door above. Pinkie Pie showed her how to use the loops tied into the rope to pull herself upward. As she climbed, Twilight’s muscles burned and ached with the exertion, and her empty stomach grumbled in protest. She began to feel lightheaded, and she had to stop about a third of the way from the top to catch her breath and steady herself. For a minute, she didn’t think she could continue, but she felt Pinkie Pie climb up behind her; a comforting and solid presence. Her silent support helped steady Twilight once again, and she slowly hauled herself up one hoof at a time until she reached the top.

Guide ropes stretched down the corridor, past the half-flooded and empty engine room and the corridors leading to the starboard and port pumps. That seemed to be the center of activity in the foundered ship. There were ropes and hoses strung here and there, and a continuous jumble of voices mixed with the howl of wind to create a meaningless symphony. Pinkie Pie steered Twilight past those corridors, walking along the wall near the ceiling in the direction of the aft cabins.

They reached the first one, a door closed at their feet. Next to the door lay a neatly coiled climbing rope. Pinkie Pie walked up to the door and gently opened it inward before lowering the rope and motioning Twilight ahead of her. Twilight felt a bit steadier than she had at first. She knew she should feel an overpowering need to see the most generous pony she’d ever met; to hear her voice and know she was alright, but she still just felt hollow. Nevertheless, Twilight didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the rope and swung herself down into the room. It took a bit of effort to find the footholds since her flailing hooves kept kicking the rope around, but she eventually made her way to the floor.

The domicile had been cleared out of furniture. The double bunkbeds and bureau relocated or disposed of. Rarity lay atop a mattress in a shaft of sunlight shining in through the porthole in the hallway above, and she was swathed in blankets for warmth. She appeared graceful, even in sleep, the light diffusing through her entirely unkempt purple mane. Twilight just stared, allowing herself to feel what hollow relief and happiness her friend’s breathing could afford her. Pinkie Pie climbed down and stood next to Twilight, and for a brief stretch of time neither of them moved nor spoke. It was a rare moment of peace in an otherwise frightening world.

When Pinkie Pie broke the silence it was in a soft, careful voice. “Pin Feather said that she was lucky. She really needs to lay still for at least a couple of days, but her broken legs will heal. He said something about the cold water keeping the swelling down. She’ll be wearing splints on her hind legs for a couple of months, but at least she’ll be able to walk again.”

Twilight whispered back. “Pinkie, I’m so glad she’s alive.” But Twilight wasn’t certain whether she said it for Pinkie’s benefit, or her own.

“I know Twilight. Me too.”

They stood there for awhile, and Twilight lost track of time. That wasn’t like her. Had it been one minute or ten? She wasn’t sure. But she realized she was waiting for Rarity to wake up. Twilight broke the silence. “R-Rarity?” Her voice cracked on the last syllable. “Rarity? Can you hear me?” No response. Not even an ear twitch.

Pinkie Pie walked confidently to the side of the mattress, tucked her fetlocks underneath herself and lay with her mouth close to the white unicorn’s ear. “It’s all right.” Pinkie Pie said softly. “Twilight is here and she’s okay. Do you understand? Can you hear me? Everything is going to be fine.” Despite the deep numbness radiating through Twilight’s chest, she was taken aback. She couldn’t logically understand how anyone could still believe in her. Or trust her with their lives. It didn't make sense.

Voices and the sounds of movement echoed in through the open door just before a yellow beak appeared above them. “She’s right here!” Pin feather called over his shoulder. “I found her! See?”

Celestia’s face joined his, and as Twilight glanced up and met her eyes, relief washed over the regal alicorn’s features. Even Celestia, the veritable Goddess of the Sun herself, seemed filled with hope to see Twilight up and walking around. But as she took in the expression on Twilight’s face her smile froze, replaced by a small frown. It was then Twilight noticed how sunken and haggard Celestia looked. Maybe she'd been running the emergency water pumps with magic. “Thank you, Pin Feather.” Celestia’s tone was clearly one of polite dismissal.

Pin Feather took the hint. “Sure, I can get out of your mane. Hey Pinkster?”

Pinkie Pie shook her head no. “She’s still asleep.”

“Okay. Just let me know the instant she wakes up.” The gryphon nodded to the Princess and bounded away.

Celestia dropped into the room, spreading her wings to soften her landing. Even without allowing herself her full wingspan, her primary feathers still brushed both cabin walls. Yet she landed gracefully enough on three hooves, keeping the weight off of her injured hindleg and folding her wings against her sides once again. Twilight looked up at her mentor, and then back down at her friends. “Twilight Sparkle.” Celestia effortlessly imbued those words with affection and pride. Despite herself, Twilight felt a small surge of warmth somewhere in her heart, but it quickly faded back into the dull emptiness.

Celestia turned to consider the pony on the mattress before her. “Rarity. That she certainly is. She has displayed more strength and resilience than I’d ever suspected she had.” Twilight nodded slowly in agreement. She waited, half-expecting what the Princess would say next. Celestia sighed, her brow creasing with determination beneath the slow aurora borealis of her mane. “Twilight, we have a plan to free us from our current straights, but we need your help.” Of course. Twilight thought. Of course you do. “We need you to hold off the wind while Luna and I lift this ship out of the ocean, drain the water we’ve taken on and restart the engines.”

“No.”

Celestia took an involuntary step back, as though she’d been slapped. Pinkie Pie stared at Twilight with wide, frightened eyes. “Do you mean to say there’s something wrong with my plan?” Celestia said.

“No.” Twilight looked like she might say more, but then she closed her mouth. She stared unfocused, gazing into her thoughts and memories.

“Twilight, what’s wrong?” For the first time Celestia truly seemed unsettled. It seemed as though unpleasant memories flitted behind her ancient eyes. When Twilight didn’t answer, she reached out a tentative hoof.

When she touched her student, it seemed to open a floodgate, and Twilight began talking in a dull monotone, as if she were reciting figures from a book of little interest. “I’m beginning to understand you now, I think. It must have been scary, watching your homeland being overcome with Darkness like you described. To feel that sort of helplessness. Founding Equestria was a really smart move, in retrospect. To cultivate a place rich with harmony and love would give you the perfect power base from which to draw up a magical defense. But that creature never showed up, did it? And you talked yourself into waiting. Waiting for thousands and thousands of years. I’m wondering now how much of your sister’s rebellion against you stemmed from blaming you for your brother’s death, and how much stemmed from simple frustration at having to watch you accumulate power and not use it to fight.”

"Twilight?" Celestia grew angry. “What are you accusing me of?”

Twilight continued. “Being a coward.” A part of her couldn’t believe she was saying these things, but the rest of her didn't care enough to stop. “I didn’t start putting the pieces into the right places until I met Cinder. Some of the things he said, they're starting to make sense. He accused you of ‘hiding your power,’ didn't he? Chrysalis must have crossed the ocean with her changelings, hoping to confront or end this Darkness, and they failed. Her attack on Canterlot was a desperate gamble, but a well thought-out one. If Chrysalis had been able to take your power base and the Elements as her own, she would have used them to fight this Darkness, wouldn’t she? But she knew that if she did fail, you would see her desperation and wonder what could possibly drive her to such extremes. So she crashed my brother's wedding, hoping to goad you into some kind of action that didn’t involve you sitting safely behind your borders, training one student after another just telling yourself you were waiting for one gifted enough to succeed where you had failed. That’s why you decided to tell us about your history when you did, and why we’re making this trip now instead of twenty years from now. Chrysalis forced your hoof.”

Twilight continued, laying down each word like a lifeless brick outlining the cold wall between them. “You even told Cinder to his face that we were crossing the ocean, and that so long as your subjects in Equestria remained unharmed, you wouldn’t turn back. You’ve been telling us all along that we’re just making this trip to have a look, to see what’s going on. But you really brought us here to try and fight. Which explains why the changelings let us leave. The only thing I can’t understand is why you never helped me when it mattered. You stayed away during Nightmare Moon’s return, not because you couldn’t fight but because you needed to test me. You offered no help when Discord returned, not even to stem the flood of chaos he caused. And did you really turn the full force of your power on Queen Chrysalis?” Twilight shook her head. “Even in the changeling hive, you pushed me to figure out a way to escape instead of allowing me to depend upon you, to think for some reason you might save us. I’m not really sure what’s worse anyway, thinking that you can’t save us or thinking that you wont. . .”

“ENOUGH!!!” Celestia’s voice, imbued with her magic, had the force of an impact, sliding everything in the room away from her a little. Her entire body glowed with a soft white light, her righteous anger filling the room. “That is quite enough, Twilight Sparkle!” She made a visible effort to try and control herself. “You go too far!" Celestia now seemed just as hurt as she was angry as she continued. “Of course I tried to push you, to help you become more than what you have been. Isn't that what every teacher does? And you have such promise! Deep beneath this ocean, you allowed my sister and I to draw upon your power. Your potential is greater than any I have ever felt. You saved all of our lives, Twilight, and yet you insist upon acting as though you aren’t needed. As though you aren’t special.”

Twilight shrugged as her gaze drifted back to Rarity, still passed out in her blankets. “I know that I’m strong.” Twilight said. “I just can’t imagine that I’m any stronger than the pair of immortal alicorns who rule a kingdom.” She gestured halfheartedly at the shaft of sunlight beaming down upon the injured unicorn. “I don’t know how long it’s been since we’ve broken out from under the cloud cover, but I’m sure you know what it means. This wind isn’t moving in a circle; it’s moving in a straight line. My guess is that we’ll be hitting land sometime soon. And when we do, I’ll be right here, doing my best to try and protect Rarity. You can’t ask any more of me. I’m sorry.” With that, Twilight carefully stepped over Rarity’s purple tail and curled up next to her, settling herself in next to Pinkie.

Celestia just stared, her body trembling and her jaw clenched. Twilight almost envied her mentor's capacity to feel so much all at once. When Celestia spoke again, it was a clear accusation. "Twilight, do you remember the night we spent in the cave? Because I do. And I did not miss the fact that your throat completely healed overnight. Neither did I heal my own injuries. Both of these feats are impossible, as you well know. Now explain again how you are 'unneeded'."

Twilight recoiled a little in shock, her eyes searching. "Fascinating. . ." Twilight pondered the words, but she found no clear explanation. She shook her head. "But it wasn't me, your Highness. I've never done anything. I swear it." Celestia met her gaze, but she added nothing. So Twilight continued. "Maybe we should conduct an experiment. You could crush my trachea, and have Pin Feather monitor my progress. Would that convince you?" Twilight tilted her head back, exposing her neck.

Eventually Celestia glanced away, nodded to herself and launched herself up and out of the cabin, passing a wide-eyed Applejack on her way out.

“Woah there!” Applejack ducked and clutched for her missing hat as Celestia swooped by. After a brief pause, the earth pony leaped into the room, nimbly grabbing the rope in her jaws and working her way down without the hoof-holds. Applejack stood studying Twilight with wide green eyes before asking, “You reckon it’s all true? The things you said about Celestia?” Twilight sighed and nodded, unwilling to move from her place at Rarity’s side.

Applejack continued, “Yeah, I reckon you’re right.” She shifted uncomfortably from hoof to hoof. “Listen. . . Twi’. . . I hear you when you say the Princess hasn’t been playing all o’ her cards with us. . . but you’re right about something else too. When I left the deck Cloud was pretty certain her crew had spotted land. And, uh, we’re still heading in a mite fast.” From the tone of her voice, it was clear she was hoping Twilight would leap to the rescue.

She couldn’t. Twilight shook her head sadly. “I hope Celestia and Luna can save us.” She said without any emotion at all.

Applejack didn’t look surprised at those words, just disappointed. “You jus’ can’t mean that.” She said. Pinkie Pie glanced from Applejack to Twilight, and back again.

“I do.” Twilight said lifelessly. “What I don’t understand is why everypony still thinks I can handle everything. Honestly, every time I make a decision it seems like somepony gets hurt. Or lost. Yet everypony still looks at me with hope in their eyes, or with expectations whenever something goes wrong. I can’t bear it anymore. I’m sorry.”

Applejack could sense the change in Twilight. She almost thought she could feel the emptiness radiating from her friend. “Oh Twi’.” Applejack moved to hunker down next to Rarity as well, addressing Twilight from across the injured unicorn. “You can’t just go an’ take all the blame by yer lonesome. You didn’t make this storm. You didn’t make Sp. . . Spike chew through his ropes. Shoot, you been trying yer hardest just like the rest of us. Ain’t no shame in that.”

“Yeah Twilight,” Pinkie Pie spoke without lifting her head, her mane straight and unmoving beside her. “You can’t give up now.” She said in a small voice.

Twilight still felt nothing. She closed her eyes and rested her head on her hooves between herself and Rarity. Her friends’ pleading just made her feel tired. “You don’t understand.” Twilight sighed. Waiting in darkness seemed far preferable to looking at the disappointment in her friends’ eyes. So she waited.

“TWILIGHT!” Applejack’s voice was a lash, popping Twilight’s eyes open. The earth pony was on her hooves, and she reached down to drag Twilight off the floor and look her in the eye. “Now, you may have given up on Celestia. Fine. You may have given up on yerself. Fine! But Dash and ‘Shy and Spike are out there somewhere, and we might, might be able to find them with this here airship. Pinkie and I can keep Rarity safe but we can’t help save this ship! Do you hear me Twilight Sparkle? I will NOT sit here and let you give up on our friends!”

Twilight said nothing. Our friends are dead, Applejack. Gone. she wanted to say. Emotionally, Applejack’s words were stones dropped into a well with no bottom. But we don't know for sure, do we? There's no evidence. Logically, Twilight couldn’t find fault with the argument. So finally Twilight nodded, and Applejack let her go. Twilight felt vaguely hurt; which was strange, given how terribly numb she was. She decided there was nothing at all to say, and so she stepped carefully over the unconscious Rarity, grabbed a hold of the climbing rope and pulled herself up and away from her friends. Applejack turned away from the open doorway above.

Pinkie Pie’s sky-blue eyes teared up. “Applejack. What’s wrong with her?” She clearly wasn’t referring to Rarity.

“I don’t rightly know Pinkie. I mean to say I ain’t sure. But I don’t like it one bit.” She sighed and smiled a little. “She’ll be okay. We’ll all figure this out once we get through this dollop o’ hogswallop we’re in.” She said, producing a length of rope. “Now, help me rig up somethin’ that’ll keep Rarity here from sliding around too much.”

The airship hung an inch from death, and the sight of the upended bridge was an eloquent portrait of that fact. Two crew members were suspended from harnesses near the ceiling, trying desperately to repair some of the electronics set underneath a hatch in the far wall. Halfway up the room, at the flight wheel, Clouded Gaze stood locked between the the spokes of the wheel and the floor, her beak contorted in an unconscious grimace. Of course she couldn't have afforded to give up her post. Even the slightest shift in the Vigil's rudder would upset its precarious balance and send it plunging into the depths. Her wings were spread, trying to take some of her weight by bracing against a control panel. Still, Twilight had no idea how Cloud managed to take the strain.

Thistle Down paced the floor, heedless of the oil paintings and the two inches of water he splashed through. "I get it! She's not coming. But we have to try something, don't we?"

Celestia stood near him, staring out of the three massive windows lining the nose of the airship. Ocean water took up nearly half of the view, and a sliver of cloudless horizon took up the rest, as the vicious wind continued to scour the ship broadside through the ocean. "Perhaps we can levitate the airship when we near the shore, and attempt to soften the impact magically."

"You told me four hours ago that the Vigil could buckle under the strain if we tried that!" Thistle actually pulled a few of the feathers out of his crest in frustration. "Minor repairs are one thing, but if we break this airship's back it'll never fly again!"

"Captain, I believe it is our best chance."

From the sideways hatch, Twilight spoke, "I'll help."

"Twilight!" Thistle spun around to look up at her. "Thank the stars! The Princess told me you were indisposed."

"Well," Twilight and Celestia locked eyes without smiling. "She was partly right."

Celestia nodded to her student. "I'm glad you've come."

Twilight shrugged. "Just tell me what to do."

The distant shoreline looked vaguely grey and unhealthy from this distance. Despite the fullness of the afternoon sun hanging in the sky, the landmass looked overshadowed, as though the sun didn't quite touch it. It was tough to gauge how far away they were with her mane whipping frantically about her face, but Twilight didn't feel like estimating anything anyways. Glancing into the wind behind them, Twilight suddenly understood why the Wonderbolts all wore flight goggles. Even squinting into the wind, her eyes leaked involuntary tears. She looked away, but not before glimpsing the entirely clear skyline behind them. There was no longer any sign of a storm. Aside from the bulldozer-like wind that continued to scythe any plume of water instantly to mist, leveling the ocean and driving the airship towards the gnarled shore.

Twilight had followed Princess Celestia out into the clear sunshine, scaling a series of ropes that had been laid out hours before by members of the crew. The sea frothed around the deck of the ship, roiling thickly like viscid magma. It seemed as though the wind and the sea both struggled mightily to claim the airship, fighting one another to a standstill. The pair were quickly joined by Princess Luna, and the three of them perched themselves upon the guardrail and prepared to meet the Vigil's final crisis.

"This will be a delicate undertaking." Celestia didn't seem very inconvenienced by the wind. Twilight struggled not to feel envious as her own mane lashed uncontrollably about her face. "Should we cease the wind without a proper hold of the ship, it would sink within moments. Should we hoist the ship up into the wind, it would be instantly flung end over end. And even if we managed to divert the wind and lift the ship at the same time, we could not right it properly until we have drained most of the water, else we would endanger everyone aboard, including Rarity. We must time this perfectly."

From Twilight's other side, Luna added. "We will lift the dirigible. My sister, thou will tend to the water. Twilight Sparkle, thou must stave off this gale, as thou has done before."

"But Twilight, you must wait until Luna has given you a signal, not a moment before. Do you understand?"

Twilight shrugged and nodded dully, agreeing. Luna cast a questioning look over the unicorn's head, but Celestia only looked pained. With a grimace, Luna returned her gaze to the rapidly approaching shore. Luna closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, her horn lit with a soft glow. A similar glow spread about the ship beneath them. "Young one, we are ready."

Twilight nodded, and she visualized the spell in her mind. She reached for her power, and projected it into a flat plane behind them, diverting the wind.

Except nothing happened.

Nothing at all.

Twilight's horn remained as dull and lifeless as the crown perched meaninglessly upon her head. She forgot to breathe. Even in her self-imposed numbness, she could still feel dumbstruck.

"Now, Twilight."

She groped within herself, but she felt nothing. No connection. No magic. Of course she didn't. Oh no.

Celestia's panic was infectious. "We are running out of time! My student, if you can divert the wind you must do so now!"

As the realization dawned upon her, Twilight shook her head side to side. When she had cut herself off from mourning her friends and her own failures, she had also cut herself off from her magic. When she had gouged out her heart to distance herself from the pain, she'd left her soul behind too. Celestia herself had taught her as much. The connections between individuals were the source of all magic, and Twilight felt nothing at the moment. Nothing but a dull panic. "No." She whimpered to nobody, as the ghost of her grief loomed above her. "Please, no."

Celestia gently shook her student. "Twilight!"

"Sister, we must act! Now!" Luna shouted into the wind.

"Twilight! What is wrong?!?" Celestia searched Twilight with her eyes. When comprehension dawned across the regal alicorn's face, she gasped. "Twilight?"

By this time, Twilight's chest heaved with gasping breaths. She knew what she had to do. She hadn't really cut out her own heart. It had just felt that way. All she'd managed to do was erect a wall between herself and her feelings. Now that she was aware of it again, a great tidal wave of anguish threatened to crash down upon her, all the worse because she hadn't allowed herself to face it until this moment. And she would need to let it swallow her whole. She whimpered again and shut her eyes. She wasn't sure she could do it.

Celestia had nearly spread her wings in shock, endangering her precarious balance. "Sister. . . Luna, I will divert the wind."

"To what point and purpose?" Luna maintained the beginnings of her spell despite her frantic speech. "We can neither right the ship nor drain it safely! It will not float again in this way! We must alight upon the shore, then!"

"Yes." Celestia's voice was heavy with dread.

"We were being sarcastic!" Luna shot back. "Thou knowest these shores are as dangerous as our current straights!"

"We must try." The desolate shoreline sped closer. Spits of broken rock angled menacingly out of the water like teeth threatening to devour the airship whole. "Our time is up."

A honey-colored wedge of magic appeared, blocking the force of the gale behind them. Once divested of its prize, the wind howled its savagery in an impotent rage. At the same moment, Luna's glow scaled upwards in intensity, and Aether's Vigil began to lift out of the water. The wind had ceased, but the ship retained all of its momentum.

"Higher, sister!" Celestia cried out.

Luna's spell intensified, her horn becoming too bright to look at, but seawater poured out of the previously submerged pump apertures and from around every porthole and seam. And wherever the water flowed, it washed away and weakened Luna's magical grasp. A spar of rock approached at train-worthy speeds, looking for all the world like a giant's discarded spear. Luna hauled with all her might, but to no avail. They couldn't clear it.

Twilight saw everything in excruciating detail, but her heart and mind were leagues away. Rainbow. . . Fluttershy. . . Spike. Oh Spike, you trusted me. You trusted me to keep you safe if we just stayed together. But I was too slow. Spike. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. I. . . I love you so much and I let you go.

As Twilight cried out her broken heart to the empty sky and the merciless sea, her form burst into light.

. . .

17: Landfall

A small wave broke against a gentle shoreline; a roar, followed by wet sloshing noises as the ocean advanced and retreated. It seemed strangely loud. Twilight's ears twitched. She breathed in, but her nose was covered in sand, so she sneezed violently, convulsing from tail to crest. She pried her eyelids open a crack, and bright sunlight stabbed into her eyes. She figured maybe they could stay closed for awhile. Another wave crashed into shore, drenching her flanks and washing up to her middle before draining back into the sea. Twilight dug hooves into the warm sand and began pulling herself away from the ocean. A couple of strands of seaweed clung to her hind hooves, so she kicked them away.

Something was wrong. Beyond the recent disasters and the unknown state of her friends and her recent adventures in saltwater swimming. For some reason, Twilight had the impression that someone nearby was ill. Maybe it was her. She couldn't tell. She heard voices, somewhat distant, shouting orders or encouragement. The next wave just barely caught her tail. She figured collapsing back onto the warm sand would be the next logical step. So she did.

A moment later she heard a shrill voice cry out. "Twilight! Stop!" Pinkie Pie shouted.

Twilight chuckled weakly. Trust Pinkie to yell 'stop' at somepony who isn't moving. Although crawling further up the beach would be a good thing, right? Further from the waves, better hoofing, and so on? Maybe we can find some shelter. But Pinkie had sounded fairly upset. Twilight sighed and opened her eyes again. And this time, they were not aimed at the sky.

Writhing before her was an ulcerated landscape; an expansive grey and black mass of corruption. What she saw then went far deeper than the purely physical. Lifetimes of pain and self-destruction and helplessness assaulted Twilight's senses; wormed their way into her skull and into her stomach until blood ran from her eyes and her ears filled with the baying of hounds and the screaming of foals. Had another version of herself grown old and bitter with the passing of eons until all her love and joy had curdled into despite for the world and everything in it, and had this putrefied and broken version of herself wrapped its arms about her and whispered into her ear, she would have been less horrified.

Twilight Sparkle lunged backwards, scrabbling mindlessly into the next wave. When the ocean grew deeper she barely bothered trying to keep her head above water. Panic had settled into her bones, and her only thought was escape.

Something white flashed before her, grabbed a hold of her. Twilight thrashed and kicked, struggling mightily against this new threat. As she reached for her magic her mind began to clear and her eyes came into focus. A wet-maned Celestia held Twilight to her chest and was trying to keep both of their heads above water. For a moment more, Twilight still wanted to fight Celestia off. Still wanted to hurt her, despite the cost. Until she saw a faint trickle of blood running down from the corner of the Princess's mouth, and Twilight realized she already had.

The wind had disappeared, leaving silence behind. The Vigil was grounded against the nearby shore, partly in the waves, and it was still whole from what Twilight could see. And upright, for a change. Several figures had emerged onto the deck, most of whom were staring out at the crawling horror of the continent they'd discovered. There was a pristine, beautiful stretch of white beach sand untouched by the black corruption beyond. Pinkie however, her hooves dangling over a twisted section of rail, only seemed worried about Twilight. "Are you two alright down there?"

Twilight saw the concern in Celestia's expression. "I think so. Are you alright, my student?"

Twilight felt her own cheeks, expecting her hooves to come away bloody, but they were clean. She felt herself all over, pushing away from the Princess to tread water by herself. It. . . It felt so real! "I guess so. . ." She shuddered, already trying to forget what she'd felt up on the beach. What happened to this place? She tried hard not to look back at where she'd lain upon the sand, but the darkness in the corner of her eyes beckoned her. Twilight resisted the morbid pull, instead focusing on following the Princess as she swam towards the ship.

Upon the deck of the Vigil, Luna and Thistle spoke in hushed tones for a moment. Then Thistle began shouting orders at crew members, who launched themselves back into the belly of the ship. Luna threw her forelegs over the rail next to Pinkie and shouted down at the pair. "Sister, we spotted an uncorrupted isle to the north. Should we inspect the hull before we test this vessel's seaworth?"

Celestia's eyes flicked about nervously. "We may not have time." she said. While she spoke, Twilight noticed some sort of movement out of the corner of her eye. It should be noted that the entire cursed shoreline, beyond the waves and the sand, had a subtle and unsettling sense of movement to it. But this was a different kind of motion, and Twilight turned to look.

The prow of the Vigil had scraped a fair distance up the beach, and the very tip rested across the boundary between sand and the cursed zone. Onto the sand, right next to the hull of the ship, had fallen a small animal. Twilight's first instinct was to swim towards it to offer help. It looked like it was dying. The simple, hurt motions did more than stir her impulse to help, it also reminded her forcefully of Fluttershy, whose knowledge and heart would have been perfectly suited to this small crisis. Her eyes misted over. When will I have time to mourn the beautiful things that are now lost? When will any of us? But, finding that her hooves touched bottom, that's just where she steered herself, trotting through the gentle waves.

A second glance froze the breath in her lungs and drained all the strength from her muscles. The creature certainly looked like an overlarge rodent of some type. If an overlarge rodent had been skinned alive and unevenly coated with black sludge and grey fungus. It even moved like it was dying, reaching forward by clutching at the air before it, and dragging its soggy, bloated body behind it. For all its helpless-looking movements it was quick, having already reached the hull of the ship, clinging to the side and worming its way impossibly up the curve like a leech. Twilight thought she might be sick.

"Ware and ward, sister!" Celestia shouted. She spread her wings, her horn burst to life and the sick creature detached from the hull, surrounded by a light-yellow field of telekinesis. It pulled away with a wet sucking noise, and Celestia flung it back into the darkness. A dozen more had appeared, however, and a dozen more behind them. All of them looked like they used to be different kinds of animals. Different sizes of decaying snakes, some sort of deformed alligator, an overlarge and tumorous spider, and more, all of them oozing towards the airship.

Without exchanging a word, Twilight leaped atop Celestia's back as the Princess's magic started physically shoving the airship back into the water. Twilight took aim from between Celestia's spread wings, firing a pair of magic shots at the creatures writhing up towards the deck. But, while her aim was true, the deformities just squished and wavered without falling. With a grimace Twilight clutched at one, vaguely monkey-shaped, with telekinesis and ripped it off the ship with a soft pop. Even feeling one through her magic was like chewing on a pear gone sharp with decay, but she didn't let go until she'd flung the beast far away.

Twilight felt her skin crawl with disgust. She tried to ignore the sharp pain starting behind her temples. The airship had slid back into the waves by now, and Celestia launched herself into the air, flapping hard to gain the Vigil's upper deck. Twilight held on grimly, watching as several of the remaining creatures reached the rim of the airship and oozed beneath the railing. "Princess. . . what. . ?"

"Whatever you do, do not let them touch you, Twilight." Celestia panted. As they landed upon the flight deck, Twilight found an eerily quiet struggle. Clearly, creatures had been swarming up the far side too. Luna had placed a dome shield around herself and those near her, but the doughy, leprous creatures just seemed to. . . eat it. Twilight watched in horror as a soft-legged centipede as thick as her arm attached a sucker-like mouth to the shield and in a heartbeat had wormed its way to the inside, sliding up the curve of the dome.

Luna wasted no more time on defenses, letting the shield vanish and blasting the centipede as it fell, hurtling the abomination into the sea. Twilight joined her in flinging the creatures overboard left and right. Thistle was cornered near the prow, swinging a length of chain he'd wrapped about his foreclaw. The nearest creature, an overlarge frog thing, scraped itself towards him, shrugging off blows from the chain as though it just couldn't register any more pain than simply being alive afforded it. However, after seven or eight solid blows it finally stopped moving, but some large spider with drooping tumors backed him up against the rail, mandibles gleaming and dripping.

Then it collapsed on its side with a wet splat, legs twitching. A small dart was sticking out of its abdomen. Sun Shade winked and swept her weapon around to train it on another target. She had drawn her parasol off her back and was aiming it like a large, frilly rifle, firing paralyzing darts out of the tip. When it clicked empty, she said a very unladylike word and fiddled with a knob near the base of the handle. A giant sprawling lizard flopped towards her unprotected back, opening its mouth wide. Twilight, busy holding another creature, cried out a warning.

Sun Shade spun gracefully, her raven-black mane glinting in the sun as she jammed her umbrella into the things mouth. With the same motion, she braced the end of her parasol against one of the deck's eyelets and gave the end a twist. The center pole telescoped violently outward, shoving the hideous creature clear over the side rail where it fell into the water below. The parasol, now longer than most polearms, looked too cumbersome for the mare to wield, but she seemed to have no difficulty. She spun again, tucking herself beneath her weapon and, using her shoulder for leverage, brought the weighted parasol crashing down atop an overlarge mantis. Pinkie Pie waved her gratitude and scampered away.

A high-pitched wail of pain made Twilight's heart skip a beat. She turned in time to see Summer Reeds prone upon the deck, her hooves scrabbling uselessly at a snake coiling slowly about her body. From the way her back arched off the floor and her breathy screams, the creature's touch was enough to hurt. Thistle was the closest and, ignoring Luna's cry of protest, he bounded forward and wrapped his blunted talons behind the snake's head, trying to pry it off. He cried out in pain and surprise, and his foreclaw shook, but he held on desperately. The creature's flesh oozed like slimy toothpaste from under his grip, and as it reared its head back and opened its mouth, a bubble of putrid green phlegm formed between its jaws. The bubble burst, releasing a tiny gurgling mewling sound, like a kitten with pneumonia.

A telekinetic blast slammed into Thistle Down like a battering ram, slinging him across the deck. Her eyes aglow, Celestia stepped forward and bowed her head towards the panicked unicorn and the blighted snake. A tiny ball of searing light no larger than a gumdrop formed just above the tip of Celestia's horn, but Twilight could feel the heat from where she stood several paces away. Very carefully, Celestia touched that glowing sphere to the snake creature, and it instantly burst, its entire length evaporating into flaky, grey ash.

Twilight scanned the deck in a panic, but she didn't see any more nightmare creatures. They must have flung the rest overboard. Everyone now gathered around Summer, who didn't look like she'd been rescued from anything. Every place the creature had touched the unicorn, her fur had been stripped away, revealing the startling red of muscle and blood. And she still writhed and struggled, her eyes leaking tears and her mouth clenched shut over whimpers of pain. Twilight shouted, "Find Pin Feather! NOW!" Pinkie Pie, being the closest to the hatch leading below deck, nodded sharply and vanished.

"My dear, it's alright." Sun Shade tried hard to get Summer to look her in the eyes. "You're safe." But Reeds said nothing. Her eyes didn't even focus on anyone around her. From the expression on her face, she was still staring down the gullet of that snake thing.

Thistle limped over, clutching a foreclaw to his chest. "Reeds! Say something!" He took her hoof in his uninjured claw. "What do we do?" He asked the air in front of him, but he was clearly addressing the two immortals present.

Twilight glanced from one princess to the other, taking in their expressions. Luna looked angry, and Celestia looked grieved. Twilight was shocked to her core. "No! There must be something we can do for her!"

Celestia glanced meaningfully at her sister, and Luna nodded, waving her horn over the injured unicorn. Summer's eyes drifted shut, and her whole body relaxed as she fell into a deep sleep.

"These corrupted beasts cause more than harm." Celestia spoke to everyone within earshot, her voice heavy with regret. "They injure the soul with their touch, devouring the spirit itself. Once the spirit is torn, there is no way to restore it. I am sorry."

Thistle's eyes shimmered with shared pain. "So, we're both going to die. Is that it?" He nodded to himself, as though he'd already steeled himself to his own plight. Sun Shade gasped, and the corners of her mouth began to quaver.

The sisters shared another long glance before Luna turned and spoke. "Thy foreclaw, good Captain, does it pain thee?" He shook his head roughly no. Luna continued, "This numbness, it shall spread. And when it reaches your heart. . ."

Sun Shade cried out, her face a mess of tears, and she threw her hooves about Thistle's feathered neck. He merely nodded, and held her in return. "Shhhh. . ." He whispered against her sobs, "It's okay. It'll be okay."

"I can fix this." Twilight's soft voice shocked the air into stillness. Celestia must be right. My injury shouldn't have healed as quickly as it did. Right? To say nothing of hers. Maybe I have some kind of healing power I don't understand. And even if I don't, I have to try. I can't just watch her die. Twilight reached out a hoof and, before anyone could stop her, touched it to the vibrant blue of Summer's horn, protruding through the white streak in her mane.

"Twi. . . !" Celestia's sharp panic came a moment too late, for Twilight didn't hear it. For beyond that simple touch, Twilight had also opened her senses up to the unicorn lying before her. In between one heartbeat and the next, the sun and the sky and her friends were gone, replaced by a vast gulf, an endless and starless expanse. A lightheaded fear overtook her as she felt herself pulling further and further from herself. As she fell, she voicelessly called out for a pony she barely knew, yet felt entirely responsible for. She cried out in every direction in a place where direction was meaningless, and nothing could be heard.

But Twilight had been propelled by grief and loss, and her pain allowed her no true tether to herself. She made no attempt to hold back, and the various layers of her identity sloughed away. Gone was the sorrow of the past couple of weeks, leaving a defiant student of Celestia, still stinging from the knowledge that she'd been lied to. Then that was stripped away, leaving her surrounded by her friends after the defeat of Discord, giddy with the elation born of survival and true friendship. Then that was gone too, leaving a young filly contemplating the stars and her own death through her bedroom window, and vowing in the darkness of night never to let herself be forgotten. The loneliness threatened to break her heart.

Then even the knowledge of mortality was gone, and Twilight stood beneath a clean sun, filled with an acute sense of her own capacity for joy and life that might stretch out forever. As she stared about the grass and wildflowers that suddenly surrounded her, she cried out in pleasure, and her voice was high and squeaky. She rolled and gamboled, reveling in a smell of spring and the vitality surrounding her. But something broke through her foalish glee, an unpleasant smell wafting through the light breeze. Twilight looked about her curiously, innocently. The meadow didn't stretch on forever. A few trotting paces away she found a wilted flower, its core having been eaten away by disease.

In fact there were several. Looking up and beyond them, Twilight discovered city streets. Although they looked like they could have been just any streets in any city in Equestria, these weren't simply roads, buildings and parked coaches. The walls about her seemed lightly smeared with the grit of loss and regret, and a quiet despair. Turning a full circle, Twilight felt a surge of anxiety, glimpsing the inside of a classroom through a window. The chalkboard was scribbled with anxious and elusive strokes, making Twilight feel strangely as though she needed to escape something. Is this a dream? Or is this somepony else's dream?

Acting on impulse, Twilight turned and ran as fast as her hooves could carry her, but she didn't make it far before she tripped and fell over a large, discarded piece of metal. The room she'd found herself in looked like a workshop, strewn about with tools and engine bits and diagrams and grease stains. But this room was fantastic! Every nut and bolt was solid and real, full of potential. Every tool had a use, and it was beautiful. In this room, everything made glorious sense. Twilight smiled from the bottom of her soul, even as the realization hit her. This isn't somepony else's dream. This is somepony else's life.

There was a door in a corner, and through this door Twilight pushed without consciously electing to do so. She found herself upon the deck of an airship, but one that seemed to stretch for miles. Every line in the deck was a stanza within a poem. The vibrant thrum beneath her hooves was an eloquent hymn sung to the essence of life itself. The sky simply ached with freedom. Twilight thought she saw a figure in the distance, so she skipped towards it.

She had to navigate around pictures. Photographs lay here and there, all of them framing a pegasus she should have found familiar, just as she should have been able to identify the love with which all of them were taken. But while the feeling struck filly Twilight, their meaning eluded her. As she carefully picked her way through the upturned images and their bright colors, she failed to see who she approached. Twilight stopped abruptly as the polished wood before her gave way.

Twilight felt herself go rigid with terror. Summer Reeds lay within a charred crater, her deep blue coat mostly gone, revealing unhealthy, pink skin eaten away by boils and blisters. Her body squished sickly as she reared her head back in pain, eyeless sockets gaping as she reached out. Unable to move, unable to breathe, Twilight watched the soft, grey hoof reach towards her.

It touched her hoof.

Twilight screamed.

And found herself surrounded once more by her friends, having been pulled back from Reed's form by Luna's strong hoof. Celestia hadn't actually stopped talking. ". . .ight! Don't reach out to her with your magic! I know your intentions are pure, but the effects can resonate through your leylines. We can't risk losing you too."

Twilight's wide-eyed stare met Celestia's determined gaze, and she swallowed weakly. "Oh. . . Okay." She replied, trying to act as though she wasn't as shaken as she really felt. But she was shaken to her very core. She was suddenly certain that she'd made a grave mistake.

But at that moment a muddy brown pegasus burst out of the open hatchway, shoving his way through to the injured unicorn. He scooped Summer's head gently off of the wood of the deck, cradling it in the crook of his arm. "Oh, no no no." His voice quavered a little. "Summer, please. Say something." His eyes never left the sleeping face before him. "W-What happened to her?"

"Sky." Thistle reached out from around Sun Shade's embrace with his undamaged foreclaw to grip the pony's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Back up!" Pin Feather burst onto the deck, shouting. "Give me some room! Sky!" The gryphon received no response, so he growled through his beak. "Fine! If you wont move, at least help me get her on the stretcher!"

Clear Sky didn't move. With one hoof, he gently caressed Summer's face, from her ear down to her chin, before moving his hoof down to the tiny silver wrench hung about her neck. It had stopped moving when Summer Reeds had stopped breathing. Sky made a strangled noise, as though his throat was crowded with grief he couldn't articulate.

Celestia's voice was as bleak and clear as the tolling of a bell. "She's gone."

Over the sound of Sky's quiet keening, Twilight rubbed her hooves together and broke into a cold sweat. A spot on her right hoof had gone completely numb.

With the engines restarted, Cloud piloted the airship through the calm waves towards the far side of a nearby island. She rebuffed all offers of aid or assistance until the Vigil had been properly anchored near the less hostile shoreline of the bar of land, separated from the continent by a swath of clean ocean. Then she staggered off to the mess hall, where she proceeded to lay waste to the kitchen before falling asleep on a nearby bench, snoring loudly.

After scouting the island, Celestia and Luna led a group of exhausted ponies and gryphons onto the first solid land they'd seen in weeks. The island wasn't large, maybe a mile across. A small grove of trees and some light shrubbery were the only living things in evidence. As the distant sun settled into late afternoon, a solemn cadre of figures filed their way beneath the branches. A pony-sized swath of fabric, enveloped in a faint purple field of telekinesis, floated near the front of the line. To Twilight Sparkle, it was the heaviest burden she'd ever carried.

They found a relatively clear patch of ground, a place where an old tree had fallen, revealing a stretch of blue sky far above. Kelbrri, Thistle and Sky immediately began clearing the area, quietly lifting and moving dead branches and large rocks. Clear Sky's face was blotchy and tear-stained, but he moved as though physical exertion was the only form of expression he understood. Sun Shade and Pinkie helped, while Twilight focused on lifting the bulk of the dead tree, dragging it out of the way with her magic.

A few of the crew members had found two shovels and a pickaxe in a storage locker. Those they set aside as everyone gathered into a loose circle. Thistle said a few words about the pony he'd known. A gryphon named Cirrel said even more, her eyes shimmering with tears. Sky said nothing, his eyes never leaving the thick bundle of cloth laid gently upon the ground. Twilight nodded. She understood the way it felt; trying to hold yourself together even as you can feel broken bits of yourself falling to the ground around you.

When it was clear that Sky wouldn't be saying anything, Thistle limped to his Third Helm's side and gently placed an arm about his shoulders. But it looked like he was trying to console a statue. Sun Shade stood tall beneath the green leaves and lilted a wordless melody into the air, a progression of notes Twilight didn't recognize. It was a beautiful tune, exploring both love and loss, and it brought Twilight's thoughts back to her missing friends. She wondered if she would have the courage to say anything over their bodies. She wasn't certain she would. Sky's only response was to clench his eyes shut, and he rocked slightly where he stood.

The moment it was over, Clear Sky spun, lifted a shovel in his hooves, and began digging. Thistle and Cirrel joined him, working together wordlessly. While the pair of gryphons dug at the ground, Sky attacked it, ruthlessly chipping and hacking at every obstruction. Twilight suddenly felt like an intruder, as though she hadn't been close enough to the unicorn to have earned such grief, so she turned away. She spotted a couple more figures walking slowly towards her through the trees. Celestia and Luna both paused nodded respectfully to Twilight before moving past her, bringing water to those working.

But they hadn't been alone. Applejack had been following them, and she had Rarity draped gently across her back. And Rarity's startlingly blue eyes were open, blinking at the world around them. Twilight gasped and leapt forward through the brush, throwing an arm about each of her friends and burying her face in Rarity's mane.

"Twilight." Rarity's voice was affectionate, but weighed down with heavy exhaustion. "It's good to see you too."

Twilight pulled away to say something. She wanted to say something profound and heartfelt, but she was no longer sure what she was feeling. Unlike the last time she'd seen her friend, when she hadn't allowed herself to feel anything at all, now she was simply overwhelmed with a complex mix of joy and sadness, guilt and relief and pain all mashed together. She was at a complete loss. So she threw her arms about her friends again and just cried for awhile. And like true friends, they held her tightly and didn't let go until the flow of tears subsided.

That evening, the crew started a bonfire upon their beach, using broken pieces of furniture scavenged from the Vigil and bits of driftwood. Luna's moon peaked over the rim of the horizon, bathing the world in a soft glow. Twilight refused all of the food she was offered, despite her stomach's loud protestations. After accepting some water, she settled herself down on the sand far from the bonfire throwing red and green embers into the sky. She'd chosen a vantage where she could watch the crew and the fire, but she could also clearly study a stretch of the dark, cursed shoreline beyond the silver-capped waves.

She wasn't alone for long. Pinkie Pie dropped to the sand next to her soon enough, sighing heavily. "Hello, Pinkie." Twilight glanced fondly at her friend before turning back to contemplating the crawling evil aura on the other shore.

"Whatcha doin'?" Pinkie Pie's lack of optimism did little for her grammar.

"I'm trying to figure out what this darkness is." Twilight answered, her purple brow creased in thought. "And I'm trying to think of a way to study it that isn't suicide."

"Oh." Pinkie joined her in staring. "Is that easier than thinking about Spike and Dashie and Fluttershy and what might have happened to them?"

Twilight's breath caught in her throat, and it took her a few attempts before she could reply. "Yes Pinkie, it is."

"Okay."

They stared in silence for only a moment, because they were joined by two other figures, one supporting another. "Ladies," Rarity asked politely, "Would you mind a little company?" It was almost the same bright tone she would have used had she run into them at Aloe and Lotus's Day Spa back home in Ponyville. Almost.

Twilight's response was to leap up and give Applejack a hoof lowering Rarity to the sand and trying to make her comfortable. Applejack smiled her gratitude. "Thanks for the help, Twi." She tried to tip her hat to her friend out of habit, but she discovered once again that it was gone. "Ah, dagnabbit. . ."

"Don't mention it."

Pinkie hadn't stopped staring at the far shore, but she spoke. "Twilight's trying to figure out what that icky-crawly black stuff is."

"Huh." Applejack settled herself onto the sand, leaning gently against Rarity's back. "Any ideas from the studious unicorn?"

"Our only clue so far is the water. See that?" Twilight pointed with a hoof towards the shore. High tide had come and gone, once again revealing the pure white sand of the beach fairly glowing in the moonlight. "The Princess mentioned her fear that this evil would spread to the borders of Equestria. But it never did, and we can see why."

Applejack squinted, following Pinkie's steady gaze. "Um. . . 'cause it's fussy as a cat?"

"Cats are not fussy." Rarity proclaimed. "They simply have a refined sense of dignity."

"Heh," Applejack smirked. "If y'all say so."

Twilight shook her head. "No. It's because moving water disrupts magical energy. All it really tells us is that this stuff probably obeys the same laws that all magic follows. Beyond that. . ." Her voice trailed off as a thought occurred to her. "Pinkie, what do you see?"

The tip of Pinkie Pie's tongue stuck out the corner of her mouth as she glanced uncomfortably up and down the far shore. "Um. . . I see what looks like the world's worst time-share opportunity. I also see some seriously unhealthy foliage. Hmmm. . . I feel like there might be a joke in there somewhere about herbal medicine, but. . . I dunno. Who cares."

Twilight's eyes softened around the edges. "Okay. Fair enough. But how does it make you feel?"

"Feel? Twilight, I don't. . ." Pinkie's eyes unfocused, and a small shudder ran through her making her mane sway in front of her face. When she spoke next, her voice sounded far away. "I feel. . . I feel lonely. Like I've spent my entire life looking no further than my own stupid nose. Because if I really thought about it, making others laugh is about the most meaningless thing I could do with my life. Smiles don't last long. Joy and laughter don't last long. Everypony dies alone, and that's the cold truth. We all die alone."

Her three friends shared a worried glance. Twilight began to contradict her. "Now, you know that's entirely. . ." Twilight ran out of steam, as her logical mind couldn't refute those awful words. And her feelings were a jumbled, unhelpful mess.

"It is true." Pinkie's voice was small and defenseless, and tears hung in her wide eyes as she implored her friends, "Nothing really matters in the long run, does it?" It wasn't phrased as a question.

"I have heard quite enough of that." Rarity had teetered to her hooves, planting her splinted hindlegs into the sand. She loomed over her companions, glaring disapprovingly down her muzzle. "I'll admit it, Pinkie Pie, that when I first met you in Ponyville I thought you were exactly that; a frivolous joke. A sugar-fueled punchline, and nothing more." She glanced around defensively. "What? The first time we met she burst into song and bounced around me like an excitable beach ball. What was I to think?"

The pale unicorn stalked forward, her menace undermined by the way she had to push her hindlegs out to the side and swing them forward to move, kicking out plumes of sand. Pinkie's cheek twitched, and her ears flicked in surprise. Rarity continued, "I figured you to be a two-dimensional and shallow pony, but I tell you this right now. I smiled. And the more time I've spent with you, I've learned just how wrong I had been to judge you. You weren't throwing parties and baking cakes and telling jokes for the attention you garnered. Deep down, you truly cared about the ponies around you. You were celebrating everypony else, but never yourself.

"So I began to see you in an altogether different light. You are correct about one thing. The world is a vast, lonely place filled with rejection and sorrow. Joy and laughter do not last long. Yet that is what makes you so special, Pinkamena Diane Pie. In a strange sort of way, I've come to see you as a noble warrior, fighting back the forces of spite and sadness one innocent smile at a time. I've come to respect your life's mission, for I find it quite heroic to stand in the dark and hold a torch aloft that others might see. Those fleeting smiles reach farther than you know, much farther."

"Hey, yeah!" Applejack threw a hoof around Pinkie from the side. "That is what we love about'cha! Hoo-ey, you've got a way with words there, Rarity! Couldn'ta said it better iff'n I tried for a month."

Rarity didn't respond to the compliment. She just kept her smile trained on Pinkie's face. "You have become quite dear to us, sugar-fueled antics and all, Pinkie. I daresay none of us would change you for the world."

Pinkie's eyes swam back into focus, her unshed tears finally leaking down the sides of her face. The smallest, sweetest smile began at the corners of her eyes and spread to her mouth. "Thank you. That. . . that means bunches and bunches."

"Wow Rarity," Twilight smiled too. "If we get out of this alive, I want to put that in a letter to the Princess. It was a stroke of genius."

"Well," Rarity tossed her mane as best she could, it being unbrushed and unstyled as it was. "I couldn't just let our dear friend wallow. She deserves better than that." Rarity smiled fondly.

"Well that wasn't fun." Pinkie implored Twilight with large eyes. "Did it help you learn anything?"

"Hmmm. . . I'm not sure. What do you see, AJ? Do you feel the same things?"

"Whelp, uh. . ." Applejack squinted into the distance. "Not really. I just feel like I'mm'a be sick. Like I'm chewin' on an apple all filled with worms."

"YUACH!!!" Rarity backpedaled awkwardly away from the horrible imagery.

Pinkie Pie tilted her head a little. "What about you, Twilight? What do you see?"

Myself. "I'm. . . I'm not entirely certain."

"Heh, sounds like Twilight's worst fear ta me. Not knowin' something." Applejack chuckled weakly. "In any case sugar, I'm glad yer' back with us."

"So am I." Pinkie Pie added, her ears drooping into her straight mane. "You really scared us back there on the sideways airship. It's like you were part zombie or something."

Twilight gave her friends the ghost of a worried smile. "It hurts a lot less when you don't allow yourself to care."

"Of course it does, darling." Rarity settled herself back onto the sand. "But that's not the point, is it? If one is to allow oneself the joys of this world, one must also be open to the pain it brings." She tried in vain to get her mane to fall properly, but it was clearly a lost cause. "Do tell, what is our plan of action?"

Twilight spoke. "Well, Thistle is pushing his crew to repair the airship tonight. He's hoping it'll be sky worthy in a day or so. For their part, Princess Luna told me she would cut the night short by a couple of hours so she and Celestia can begin searching the coastline, in case our friends were somehow swept to shore like we were. I disagreed, based upon probability. They're likely still far out at sea, if they're alive, and that means we'll need the airship to save them. Although, with my calculations, it'll take us two months to canvass the entire area they're likely to be. And without fresh water, they wont make it more than a couple of days."

"Sounds t' me like we need a better plan." Applejack said. "Can't you do some kind of magicy stuff? Maybe with these things?" She tapped a hoof against her golden necklace.

Twilight nodded. "There's a couple of spells I can try, but I don't think they'll work. However, I am going to try everything we can think of at the first light of dawn."

Pinkie Pie sighed. "Oh, if only we could send them a message telling them we're looking for them. That would help keep their spirits up."

Twilight sat bolt upright, her panicked eyes large and shimmering with the flames of the distant bonfire. At the same instant, Applejack exclaimed, "Wait! Can't the Princess just. . ."

Her words faded as Twilight galloped into the trees and brush. How could I have been so stupid? We can send more than a note to Spike, wherever he is. We can send supplies! AUGH! I'm so dense sometimes! Why wasn't this the first idea I had? Twilight had a vague idea of where Princess Celestia said she would be keeping watch, on the opposite end of the narrow island from her sister. It was only a couple of minutes, but it felt like forever before Twilight caught a glimpse of pale, radiant white through the trees.

Twilight burst onto a rocky stretch of shore as Princess Celestia turned towards her. She didn't smile. "Twilight, is everything alright?"

"Princess! We can send supplies to Spike! Canteens of water, wrapped food, even a lifeboat if we compressed one enough. . ."

At this, the Princess did smile a little. "You're very right, my student. I've sent a few parcels along several hours ago, including a note."

Twilight's ears perked in surprise, and then drooped as the implications hit her. "And you haven't received anything back, have you?"

Celestia shook her head no. "If I had, I promise you would be the first pony to know." Twilight nodded, then hung her head. Celestia traversed the rocks with delicate grace, and she raised one golden-shod hoof to lift Twilight's face up towards hers. "That doesn't mean anything, you know. If Spike is asleep, or unconscious, or if he managed to inhale enough water to put out his inner fire, we wouldn't get a reply. Your friends may still be okay."

Twilight sighed and nodded again. "Thank you, Princess." She didn't sound very reassured. She turned to leave.

"Please wait." The deep sadness in Celestia's voice froze Twilight where she stood. "There's something else I need to say. Twilight, I've. . . You know, it's not that. . ." Twilight wasn't sure she'd ever heard Princess Celestia stammer before. It was disconcerting. "As my student, I've always wanted you to grow and become stronger. You know that. And it's also true that I have tried to prepare you to face the terrible things in this world. Yet I want you to know that I never wanted anyone to get hurt. I will do absolutely everything in my power to find your. . . no, our friends. I promise you."

Twilight's gaze had drifted off to stare at the far shore. "I know you will. Even if you didn't care about us, and I know you do, but you still need us. You need the Elements of Harmony to win this fight for you."

It was a long moment before Celestia spoke again. "I'm not certain what my sister has told you, but I have never intended you to be my weapon. I have never taken away your right to make your own choices, to think for yourself."

Twilight's brow furrowed deeply as she focused on the beautiful peytral adorning Celestia's neck. "Yes you have." She said with conviction. "You kept the whole truth from me, from all of us. By withholding information, by changing my conception of the truth, you could ensure I made the decisions you wanted me to. I haven't been able to make my own choices all along." Twilight continued before Celestia could interject. "But it doesn't matter. You know full well that I can't turn back now. I couldn't live with myself. So yes, I'll keep fighting for you. I'll try to find a way to help unravel this curse." Twilight tapped her front hoof against the ground beneath her, trying to feel the extent of her numbness. Everything but the very edge of her hoof felt nothing, like it belonged to somepony else. "I guess we'll just have to find a way to live with whatever it'll cost us."

Dissonance

Lyra returned to her bench in the Canterlot Gardens. It’d been another bad day. Bon Bon had come around again, and she’d brought flowers this time. But Lyra found she couldn’t explain her decision to break up any better than the last time Bon had asked her why. When she left, she seemed so sad. . . As if that wasn’t enough, Lyra’d had her first fight with Minuette. She’d stormed off, and now Lyra found herself doing what many do after a fight with a friend. She went back over everything that was said line by line, reliving the fight again and again.

It had been late afternoon, and Lyra had just left her room to go for a walk. She’d needed to sort out her thoughts after sending Bon Bon away, and a walk sounded excellent. Maybe through the gardens again. Minuette found her in front of her building.

“Lyra! There you are!” She’d said with genuine concern in her voice. “I haven’t seen you in ages! Where. . . are you feeling alright?”

She’d honestly thought about it for a moment. Strangely, she didn’t feel much of anything. “Yes, I feel fine.” She said. Lyra tried to walk around Minuette, but she sidestepped into her way.

“Hey, don’t just walk away.” Minuette said, putting a hoof on Lyra’s shoulder. “I’ve missed you, and you haven’t been yourself lately.”

Lyra’d felt strangely frustrated that her friend was blocking her path. A weird spike of anger made her grit her teeth over some very unkind words she’d wanted to say. But Minuette was her friend. She fought down her frustration, sighed deeply and said, “Look, I’m sorry. We can catch up later, I promise. I just need to be alone for awhile.” And with that Lyra’d cut through the grass around Minuette to head towards the gardens.

“Fine!” Minuette had shouted. “If you don’t have time for friends, maybe we shouldn’t even be friends! I never want to see you again!” Just the memory of those words made Lyra feel hollow and sad. She sat on her bench and fought back tears. Hang on. She thought to herself. That wasn’t right, was it? And when did this headache start? She went back over it again. She said, ‘I never want to see you again?’

Why yes, that’s exactly what she said.

Then why do I remember hearing it in my voice? Minuette would never say that.

Wouldn't she?

Lyra’s head was pounding, she couldn’t think straight. Did that really happen that way?

Of course it did, stop questioning me!

But that doesn’t make any sense!

Lyra heard a distant voice call out. “Hey!” She hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes and was digging her hooves into temples until she looked up to see Minuette running down the garden path towards her. “Lyra. . . what are you doing here?”

Again, Lyra felt strangely angry. Couldn’t she have just one moment’s peace? Just leave me alone! No, she didn’t want to say that, did she? Instead, she said, “I’m just getting some fresh air. Why?”

“No.” Minuette pointed behind the bench Lyra was reclining on. “I mean, what are you doing here? That thing gives me the creeps.”

That was a very strange and unsettling moment for Lyra Heartstrings. She didn’t want to turn around. She didn’t want to look, she didn’t need to look, and nopony could make her. Princess Celestia herself couldn’t make her look at something she didn’t need to see. But at the same time the strength of her visceral denial left her terrified. She knew all at once that she’d been manipulated. She hadn’t been alone in her own head. Again.

She forced herself to turn around, even though she felt like she was moving through water. Behind her reared a statue with a slender body, one eagle claw and one lion paw thrust forward, as though to hold the beauty and the sense of the world at bay. A horse-like face was frozen in a silent scream. Even from this distance, Lyra could clearly see a small, fine crack in the stone running through the left eye. Lyra’s heart sank into her hooves, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She thought to herself, Oh, no. And she clearly heard, as if in her own mental voice. Oh, yes. The Elements are distant and scattered. They no longer bind me. Now that she was aware of him, his presence was palpable.

Discord.

The world lost cohesion, flinging apart like dandelion seeds, and the darkness between the firmaments swirled into its place.

Lyra. . .

Lyyyyyyyyyyraaaaaaaaa. . .

"Lyra?"

"Oh hoof me, what the hay happened to her?"

"I told you, she just fainted! I dragged her. . ."

"Oh, likely story!" Bon Bon? "How much did the two of you have to drink, huh?"

Lyra sat bolt upright with a cry, shivering, eliciting a squawk of surprise from both the other ponies in the room. Without allowing herself time to think, Lyra threw herself around Bon's neck, burying her face in her soft mane.

Bon Bon's face stretched into a victorious grin. "There, see? She'd rather be with me than you, you. . . harlot!" She said vindictively.

Minuette pulled at her ears in frustration. "I told you two floors below, there's NEVER been anything between us! Gah!"

Lyra sniffed. "Don't be stupid, Bon." She mumbled, not really caring if she got a face-full of mane as she did so. "You're not the jealous type, and we both know it."

Bon Bon tried pushing Lyra away with her hooves. "You! Don't you go thinking you can just shove your way back into my life! Not after the things you said to me! Get OFF ME!"

Lyra didn't let go. She locked her hooves together and held on for dear life. "I'm sorry, Bon."

"Not as sorry as you're going to be!"

"I love you." At that the earth pony stopped struggling, her eyes wide and her chest heaving. "I love you, Bon. I know I haven't said this enough, but I really love you. You're the sweetest, kindest pony I've ever met." One of Bon Bon's eyes twitched, and she clamped them shut. Lyra sighed, and it sounded like it came from the bottom of her soul. "You're smart and funny and emotionally stable. You're the reason my world is fun to be in. I love you. Please, don't ever forget that, no matter what."

With a shudder, Bon Bon collapsed back onto her haunches. She wiped the corner of her eye with a fetlock. "Lyra. . . Lyra, I'm sorry too. I don't know what came over me."

Lyra finally let go and pulled away from her assault-hug. Her mane was a mess and her eyes were red, but she looked happy. "I don't think you need to apologize to me, beautiful."

With a start, Bon Bon remembered that they weren't alone. "Oh, of course. I'm so sorry, Minuette. I mean, I never should have called you a. . . I mean, I know you're not. . . And, well, you seem like a. . . It's just, I wasn't, um. . . hmmm. . ."

"I get it, I get it, apology accepted, sheesh. Thank you." The blue unicorn rolled her eyes. But she smiled too.

For the first time Lyra took her eyes off of Bon Bon and swiveled about to face her friend. "Look Colgate, I really owe you big time for dragging my sorry flank back here."

Minuette blew her mane out of her eyes. "You got that right. Maybe now you'll go talk to somepony about what you've been through. I could set you up with a great therapist. I've got to tell you, since I started seeing Dr. Flanksberg my coping skills have been. . ."

Lyra held out a hoof. "Yes, okay? I'll do it. Believe me, I'll stop fighting it. I'll set something up right away and go see a shrinky-dink. Promise. But let's do that once the crisis is over. Okay?"

"What crisis?" Bon Bon asked.

"Crisis?" Minuette asked at the same time.

"Wait." Lyra turned towards the pony that surprised her, her ears drooping. "Tell me you saw the crack, Colgate. The crack in the statue?"

"What statue?" Minuette's steel-blue eyes widened in alarm. "That statue?"

Bon Bon glanced back and forth between the two. "What statue?"

It was getting close to midnight, and the castle seemed dark and lifeless. The Canterlot nobility and aristocracy were nowhere to be seen this late. The kitchens were quiet, the serving staff having cleaned up and turned in. Only one room near the top of one of the towers had a light still burning. The guards at the gate seemed unimpressed when Lyra, Bon Bon and Minuette asked permission to enter, and even less impressed when they refused to say why. It seemed to take forever for the ranking guard to vanish into the castle and reappear with an answer. But when he reappeared with a sigh, he led the pair through the castle, the occasional candle the only illumination.

Lyra spoke in a worried tone. “I mean, I was aware that Princess Celestia had left Canterlot, but can’t you get a message through to her or something?”

“That’s quite impossible.” The guardspony stated flatly. “Princess Celestia will return when she chooses to, but she has deliberately made herself unreachable.”

Lyra nodded glumly. At least there’s somepony left in charge. I just hope she’ll know what to do. She glanced at Minuette, and they shared a mute moment of trepidation. They ascended the double-stairway in the great hall, and the guard turned and guided them up the stairs to the west wing of the castle. An elegant but sparsely lit hallway, a couple of turns and more stairs, and the three ponies emerged into a quiet hallway lined with statues like mute sentinels, grim but powerless against any real threat. Partly down the hall a pair of guards stood watch by a set of doors. A sliver of warm light spilled from beneath it into the hallway.

“The Princess will see you in the study.” Their escort said. He saluted the guard ponies at the door, who returned the salute crisply. One of them turned and opened the study door. The three of them walked together into a richly appointed room lined with bookshelves. A fireplace, well tended and brightly burning, shed light across books and scrolls by the hundreds. The dark, lush carpeting was occasionally overlaid by an even more beautiful and lush carpet. Upon one of these positioned near the fireplace lay an alicorn busy reading through a stack of scrolls and missives. She glanced up at her guests, set aside a piece of parchment, and stood, stretching gracefully.

“So. We have heard tales of a message too important to entrust to the palace guards.” While the Princess’s voice was both warm and kind, it did hold a faint note of disbelief. “We find ourselves eager to hear it.”

All three ponies had bowed while they were being addressed. Then Lyra rose. “Your Highness, Princess Luna. Thank goodness you’re here!”

18: Adrift

Fluttershy was tired.

The unchanging expanse of the horizon encircled her, a perfectly cloudless blue dome. Celestia's sun was the only indication she hadn't been going in circles for the last two days. With a great deal of effort, Fluttershy had been able to awkwardly thrust herself far enough above the water line to flap her wings and gain a little altitude. Her wings had burned with the effort, and her waterlogged mane and tail only added to the strain, as though the sea wished to drag her back down into its cold embrace. She flew circles for hours that night after the sudden death of the storm, calling out for Dash or Spike. It seemed absurd that they could have been lost so far away from her.

She had an easier time once she'd wrung her tail out and dried off a bit, but there was simply no way to rest. When the sun rose, which was heartening proof that Celestia was probably still alive, Fluttershy managed to fly east for a few hours. But then it seemed as though the water had reached up for her hooves and dragged her back under, sputtering. She alternated floating and treading water to give her trembling shoulder muscles a much needed rest, but eventually she forced herself back into the air. This cycle repeated through two awful days, with her time spent trying to rest growing longer as her time spent aloft grew shorter. She wept, cursing her frailty as she struggled hopelessly on.

Fluttershy had grown bitterly thirsty. She tried not to lick her parched lips while she flew, and her tears had dried up hours ago. The world itself had turned entirely to water, and it did nothing but mock her thirst. She had intended to be lost with Spike and Rainbow Dash. She had intended to help Rainbow, assuming they'd survived the fall, keep Spike afloat and carry him towards land and hope. But she had been afraid of what she had to do. Too afraid to move quickly. And just like always, her fear had kept her from helping her friends when they needed her. Now she was lost, with nothing but her Element and her fears, swimming in a deep black sea further from help and hope then she'd ever been in her life.

She shook her head. It had been more than simple anxiety this time. Fluttershy had spent her life and her foalhood in a constant state of mild panic. Every small thing, from a short fall to the attention of ponies around her caused her heart to. . . well, flutter in her chest. It had become so bad that she had dreaded any small venture from the safety of her home. All of this had begun to change once she'd, quite by accident, made some true and honest friends. A small core of strength had blossomed in her soul, a calm beauty which had bolstered her days and soothed her nights. The magic of friendship had reached gently through her defenses and fears, and encouraged her to become more than what she was.

That is until the young, innocent pegasus had tasted death.

Upon that shoreline, beneath the watchful eye of the moon, Fluttershy had cowered beneath the threat of that other-worldly scream. When she had felt her heart stop beating in her chest, and she'd felt deep within herself the same thing happening to everyone she'd ever grown to love, Fluttershy had broken. Her calm, her courage, her new found faith in friendship had all shattered like small and delicate eggs fallen from a high nest. Before the absolute abyss of death, the magic of friendship was a brittle thing, doomed like all things to die.

She'd discovered that her own kindness had betrayed her, because the world was still the dangerous and uncaring place it had always been. Only now, this pony had found the opportunity to experience losing loved ones; a pain she could barely conceive of, let alone imagine she might survive. She had spent her time upon the airship wishing fervently that she had never met her friends. And hating herself for wishing so. She'd pushed them away as best she could, struggling in vain to give her broken heart a buffer between the warmth it had grown accustomed to and the cold void of loss that lurked just out of sight.

Now, the only flier out of Cloudsdale with a fear of heights found herself immersed in an endless salty ocean containing unseen horrors, beneath a cruelly empty sky, wondering frantically which would happen first. Her finding some sign of her friends, or her limbs giving out, drowning her here on the far side of the world.

Despair threatened to drown her before exhaustion could. It whispered softly into her ear, encouraging her to give up, to let herself slip beneath the water and let someone else worry for awhile. Everything was probably hopeless anyhow, and she had always been too weak to really matter. Always. What point was there in fighting so hard and enduring so much when the odds were so astronomically stacked against her? Was death so much worse than this cold, gasping version of hell? At least death would be peaceful. Wouldn't it?

But she didn't quit. Even when her legs burned and her lungs heaved, Fluttershy kept swimming east. Long after her fragile mind had given up all pretense of hope, her heart refused to stop beating. Her legs refused to stop kicking. And even when her wings refused to bear her weight anymore and they ached from the base of her neck to the very tips of her primaries, she weakly swept her wings along the water's surface like a makeshift pair of oars.

Fluttershy actually made much better time than she gave herself credit for. It was only the unchanging nature of her surroundings that made her feel as though she barely moved at all. It was a testament to the intransigence of her spirit that she didn't give up without a fight. There was no way for her to know that, at her pace, she would die of dehydration and starvation long days before seeing land.

Fluttershy had tried leaping back out of the water twice in the last hour, but she had failed both times. Either her legs simply could not generate enough power to propel her out of the water, or her wings just couldn't support her weight anymore. Possibly both. As the sun set behind her she swam doggedly forward, pushing herself through the cold water.

The dreary monotony changed quite suddenly when a fin broke the surface about twenty paces out. It took a moment for Fluttershy's exhausted brain to process what her eyes were seeing in the fading light of the day, but once it did, her eyes flew wide. She felt alarm thread through her legs to the tips of her hooves, and she launched herself out of the water, spraying salty droplets everywhere.

She floundered unsteadily in the air, already struggling to stay aloft. Her wings protested mightily, and the finned creature kept pace easily, gliding through the water beneath her with lazy grace. Fluttershy cried out weakly, openly sobbing in frustration and fear. In between reflected glints of fading sunlight off the water's surface she thought she could make out the creature's grey body. It was big. Much larger than a bear. And she was certain that, whatever this aquatic creature was, it was hungry. She could sense it. It radiated hunger as though it had never known any other emotion in its long life.

She felt like a foal again, running away from something in a nightmare where one can never quite move fast enough. Her vision began to blur, and every labored heartbeat seemed to constrict her vision into a dark tunnel. Although her skin crawled with panic, her wings refused to carry her any higher. It was all she could do to remain conscious from one flap to the next.

As suddenly as it came the ominous fin disappeared, leaving Fluttershy alone with her panicked flight and her shuddering gasps. The pegasus kept herself going by counting wingstrokes out loud. She just couldn't let herself touch the water again. Not when there were. . . things in there. Alien things that were both massive and hungry. But she couldn't stay in the air, either. She gasped breathless prayers to whomever might be listening and fought her own weakness with everything she had left.

Yet, before her wings could falter and fail her, a massive torpedo exploded out of the water. She barely had a moment to register a pair of soulless, dead eyes on either side of an unbelievable number of serrated teeth lining a deep, black gullet. It was a monster her sleeping mind could never have imagined on its own.

Fluttershy screamed.

In an entirely different, yet identical, bit of ocean a worried Rainbow Dash also kicked her hooves through the water, pointed more or less east.

She spoke in panting breaths. "So it looked like Sea Dreamer had the lead, right, and there were only a couple more laps left in the race, but then Wavebreaker started, I dunno, doing something strange with her wings. She didn't flap them or anything. I mean, that would have been stupid underwater. These things aren't made for swimming, you know. But Wavebreaker did this thing where she kind of wiggled her wings a little, like. . . like this."

Dash's face immediately dropped beneath the water and she reappeared, blowing salt water out of her mouth and flipping her wet bangs out of her eyes. "Well, it works much better when she does it. Hey, don't give me a hard time about it! I'm the best flyer in Equestria. I never claimed to be a great swimmer." Tied atop her back, Spike continued to say nothing. Just like the last two long, boring days.

"Right. Well, if we get out of this mess, I'm totally gonna hit the pool four times a week. My quads are killing me, and if I'm gonna keep being Twilight's friend, it looks like I'm gonna need all kinds of endurance. Ugh, and I'm totally dragging you with me, tubby! Seriously, you weigh a metric ton! I really think you might weigh more than I do. Sheesh, I'll never diss Twilight's lack of a workout regimen ever again. I'm surprised that trotting around Ponyville with you on her back hasn't killed her by now."

The dragon continued to say nothing. His shallow breaths were the only counterpoint to the one-sided conversation. "Okay, I need a little break." Dash slowed her legs, resting them with a comparatively easy treading motion. Then she reached up with a gentle wing and lifted a waterproof sack off of Spike's stomach. Using a wing and her teeth, Dash carefully opened the sack and withdrew a modest hunk of bread. She devoured it in a pair of bites and carefully replaced it atop the unconscious whelpling. Then she took a canteen hung around her neck, lifted it above the waterline, unscrewed the cap and took a long drink.

"It's nice to know everypony on the airship is okay. It was really thoughtful of Celestia to send us supplies via your smelly dragon breath." Dash replaced the cap on the canteen as though she were working with demolition explosives. She didn't want to waste a single drop. "I just wish you'd wake up and drink some of this with me. And maybe start pulling your own weight. Have I mentioned how freaky heavy you are?" With a long sigh, Dash started swimming again. "Heh, I'd better get you to safety. If I let anything happen to you out here, Twilight would probably strangle me to death herself."

She wasn't sure how much longer she could keep them both afloat. Dash had never before learned just how dense dragons were, or how quickly they would sink in deep water. She didn't stand a chance of getting airborne without Spike waking up and swimming himself. The oppressive sun kept arcing through the sky, setting towards the horizon behind them.

"Spike." She murmured, struggling to keep her head above the water line, "I could really use your help right about now."

Several hours later.

"Oh, yes. I'm very comfortable, thank you."

There was a series of deeply guttural clicks varying in pitch.

"No. Well, I mean, yes. I. . . I am quite hungry. But I don't think. . ."

More clicks and a snarl.

"I don't mean to be rude at all, but I don't think raw fish would sit well with me, um, since I've never eaten any kind of meat in my life. . ."

A deep snarl, followed by a high-pitched trill.

"Oh, I'm certainly not judging you, Mr. Finley. I'm friends with all kinds of critters back home in Ponyville. Herbivores, carnivores, omnivores, insectivores, scavengers, you name it. I respect your diet as part of the natural order of things."

A fluctuating trill, followed by clicks and emphasized by a light tail splash.

Fluttershy giggled. It was a sound she hadn't made in a long time. "Oh, it's kind of you to worry so much about me." She flipped her mane out of her face and scooched herself across the shark's broad nose. She was careful to avoid the spray of water arcing up into the night sky as she tried to look into his small, black button eye. "I'm more worried about you. You seem absolutely famished! Are you sure you don't need to stop and eat something?"

A gurgle.

"Well, if you insist. . ."

More clicks, followed by a light jaw-snapping noise.

"I'm certainly glad you didn't eat me, mister! I mean, just look at this thick necklace I'm wearing! You'd just have given yourself the worst indigestion swallowing jewelery like this!"

Oscillating clicks, flowing into more light trills.

"You. . . you ate the dagger board off of a skiff before? I don't even know what that is!"

Another snarl.

"And the. . . jib sail?"

Another snarl.

"And half of the skiff?"

A single click.

"Oh my. Um, you certainly have a strong constitution, Mr. Finley."

A prolonged growl, accompanied by a light side-to-side swish.

"Well, I'm certain the minotaur might have agreed, um, if he'd had the chance."

The shark's silence could be construed as a shrug, since the shark had no shoulders.

"Um, are. . . are you certain we're still going the right way?"

Head bob and tail splash.

"Yes, I'm sure I need to get to land. It's my best chance for finding my friends."

A long pause, followed by a worried-sounding trill.

"Oh, okay. I understand, I think. If you could just get me close, I'm sure. . ."

Pronounced and strident click-chomps.

"No, you wont have to get any closer than you want to. I'm just so very grateful for your help. Why, is there something unpleasant about the coast we're heading towards?"

The night passed swiftly for Fluttershy as the miles disappeared behind them. She still felt terribly thirsty, and her stomach grumbled at her almost constantly. But she was grateful for the chance to rest her trembling limbs. Her wings slumped off of her back, and her legs occasionally twitched, as though she dreamt of running through fields. She even found lifting her head to be more taxing than she would have believed, so she simply closed her eyes against the rush of wind and the twin sheets of water that her new friend cut through the silver ocean.

Yet she couldn't sleep. She still dreaded what lay before her. Had the airship crashed somewhere in the storm? Had anyone survived? Fluttershy imagined running a hoof along the collar of gold she'd been cursed to wear, since she was too tired to actually move. She imagined she would feel something through her Element if one of her friends had actually died. She hoped she was right. But she still dreaded what she might find with all of her heart.

In all that chaos, Rarity had been hurt, hadn't she? Fluttershy was sure of it. She imagined what Ponyville would be like if the Carousel Boutique was shut down permanently. She imagined visiting the spa alone, without hearing her friend's excited opinions or eager gossip. Trips to Sugarcube Corner would be just a little more dull, the very walls of the place sapped of just a little joy without the company of a certain angelically-white unicorn obsessed with making everything fabulous.

She forced herself to think about bunnies and ferrets and sparrows. She thought about her parents. She mentally sorted the plants in her care into categories depending upon how much light they needed to grow, and then sorted them again based upon how often they should be replanted. She thought about anything she could to keep herself from crying.

The moon had nearly set, and Fluttershy had just about dried off when she heard some hesitant clicks vibrating up through the massive snout she was stretched out upon. She lifted her head. The water had stilled around them as her new friend slowed his advance. He seemed almost hesitant as he slid through the burnished water.

As Fluttershy's eyes focused, a deeper black emerged out of the night. The moon above may have presided over an ocean of stars that swirled through the sky in a dazzling symphony of light and beauty, but it cast no light upon the hulking menace of land that crouched in the darkness. Even the massive predator beneath her refused to draw near the shore, as though the land itself might somehow snatch them out of the sea.

The pegasus climbed to her hooves and gulped audibly. Something about that shoreline wasn't right. The land was perfectly still when she looked right at it, but any stretch of shore caught out of the corner of her eye seemed to move, to coil in on itself somehow. As eagerly as she had longed for a dry patch of land to stand upon, Fluttershy suddenly found herself strangely homesick for the undefined and star kissed ocean she'd left behind.

Despite squinting hard in both directions, nothing caught her eye. Her heart sank into her hooves. There was no wreckage, no glint of metal, no islands, no lit fire or beacon. Nothing but black and somewhat menacing shoreline stretching in both directions. She brushed her mane out of her face. She would have to pick a direction and follow the shore, and the wrong choice would lead her farther from her friends.

Fluttershy sighed heavily. "I don't see them anywhere. I'm going to have to explore, and hope I can find some sign of my friends."

The shark beneath her trilled and quivered with fear.

"Oh, it's okay. You don't have to stay near the shore with me if you don't want to." Fluttershy licked her parched lips. "You've done more than enough. I would never have made it this far without you." She knelt down and ran a gentle hoof across the shark's forehead. "I'll. . . I'll be fine. I'm sure I'll find a stream or something. Thank you so much Mr. Finley. You've been a real big sweetheart."

A few gurgling clicks were the only response.

Fluttershy's breath caught in her throat, and the corners of her eyes crinkled up. Her lips quivered, and she threw her forelegs as far as she could around the shark's snout. A minute later, she pushed herself back up into a hover and flew herself towards the shore. The shark hesitated, shuddered from his nose to the tip of his tail, then turned and vanished under the moonlit water.

As Fluttershy flew, the shoreline ahead resolved into a thin pale strip of sand separating the ocean from the rest of the continent. She squinted. It was difficult to tell in the predawn light, but it seemed like tendrils of shadow curled up out of the ground, obscuring what the land might have actually looked like. In fact, the closer she drew, the more oozing darkness seemed to coalesce, forming a pulsing wall across her way. She knew immediately she'd rather die than step into that creeping evil aura. In fact, there may have been no difference between the two choices.

Fluttershy's heart sank even lower. As she neared the shore she slowed her flight, eventually dropping herself gently into the surf. By now the cursed zone before her was a tangible, living thing. It raked across her senses, like falling into a thicket of thorns. It was a physical representation of a vast gulf of despair, an invitation to abandon all hope and simply break upon the reality that all things end. Several lifetimes ago, Celestia had tried to explain what they might find on this shore. But she hadn't described it well enough. None of them had been scared enough. Not even this trembling pegasus who was afraid of everything.

Fluttershy cringed, holding one wet hoof against the gem set at her throat. But then she squared her shoulders and nodded. Perhaps there was a time when standing this close to something truly corrupted would have been too much for her to bear. At one time, something like this might have broken her spirit. But Fluttershy's spirit had already been broken. She'd felt, through the strange connection her Element allowed her, all of her closest friends' heartbeats stop, even if for a moment. She could encompass nothing worse with her mind or her heart.

Fluttershy turned and trotted north through the surf. Even if north was the right direction, she hoped there was someone out there to find.

It had only been an hour, but it felt like so much more. Fluttershy hadn't slept in days, and she hadn't found a drop of drinkable water in that time either. As the tide receded, she had stopped to pick up a clump of seaweed in her chapped hooves. It smelled sour. With a grimace, she'd taken a bite, chewing the tough, salty, sandy mouthful as best she could before forcing herself to swallow. It'd nearly come right back up. She'd shaken her head and dropped the seaweed back onto the sand. It was the lowest point in her life, by a long shot. At least so far.

As the sun peeked over the horizon, it just seemed to blur her vision. She found herself trotting in a zig-zag, listing dangerously close to the moiling darkness on her right before scrabbling away from it to the left. She wasn't sure she could feel her hooves anymore, because she kept stumbling in the soft sand, kicking up clouds of fine, white grit. She panted drily, as though she'd been running all night.

Her vision blurred, and her hoof caught in a tangle of seaweed. Her chin hit the sand, and as she lay there panting, her only coherent thought was that she was glad she didn't have her tongue between her teeth when she fell. Her mother was always warning her about that. Her mother had always been warning her about every little danger. The danger of snapping a new feather and bleeding out. The dangerous calories in hay. Stranger danger. The danger in catching a cold staying out late. Dangerous hoof infections if you didn't dry them off properly. With a snorted exhalation that might have been a distant cousin of a laugh, Fluttershy wondered what her mother would say if she could see her daughter now.

With a start, Fluttershy realized that she hadn't actually stood back up. She was still lying in the sand. She struggled to pull her hooves back underneath herself when, several paces ahead of her, something else fell onto the sand with her. Her eyes swam into focus on the small shape ahead of her. It. . . it looked like a large rabbit. And it was hurt. Fluttershy gasped, and she pushed herself up on wobbly legs.

Something was wrong. Maybe the bloated, grey and pink thing crawling pitifully towards her used to be a bunny, but it wasn't anymore. The corrupting darkness had twisted its soul into something vile, and its body had followed suit. It mewled pitifully, grains of sand adhering to open sores at it dragged itself limply in a straight line towards her. There was no help she could give it.

Fluttershy was too weak to panic. She had nothing left. As she turned to trot the other way, her vision blurred again, and she almost stumbled over another creature reaching towards her. The pink-maned pony recoiled, suddenly faced with a large badger, its startlingly-red cheek muscles strained as its mouth opened silently, exposing a swollen, black tongue.

And behind it were several more creatures. Dozens more scattered across the beach she'd just crossed. How long had they been following her? How long had they been reaching towards her tail, shambling or oozing or flopping limply after her retreating form?

She should have let herself drown.

Fluttershy twitched her legs back out of reach as the creature arched towards her, looking for all the world as though it just wanted to rest its bloody head against her leg. She flapped her wings, finally grasping her danger and lifting herself off of the nightmare the beach had become.

Just a moment too late. The rabbit behind her had latched onto her tail, and it was crawling up it towards her body. She snapped her tail left and right trying to dislodge the creature, but it seemed to hang on effortlessly. She was so distracted, she didn't see the badger-thing rear up on its hind legs and gently sink its teeth into her foreleg.

There was no air left for screaming as Fluttershy felt acid knives slicing into her leg. She lost control of her wings and crashed back onto the dry sand. She noticed that the burning pain was followed by the chill of ice. It was paralyzing. Her struggles became weaker as more of the creatures converged upon her. She gasped out a prayer to Celestia and squeezed her eyes shut.

19: Bright Eyes

There were hushed whispers coming from downstairs. They were the worst kind of whispers, the kind where someone wants to yell at someone else, but they wont. An argument.

The young foal opened her eyes and blinked them in the dim sliver of light leaking around her bedroom door. Her eyes didn't line up exactly, even after a couple of blinks. A sense of dread had crept over her, so she slipped out of her bed. She immediately stumbled over a discarded toy, spreading her tiny wings to try to maintain her balance. She held her breath, hoping her parents hadn't heard her.

The hissing voices continued without interruption, and the young foal made it to her bedroom door and peeked out. She didn't like being so clumsy. The other foals at school made fun of her for it, so she felt bad about herself sometimes. She didn't like to hear arguing either. It made her feel bad too. But she also felt consumed by a strong sense of curiosity. The argument sounded important.

The voices were louder in the hallway. Mom and Dad must have been in the kitchen. From the top of the stairs she could make out what they were saying.

". . . downright lazy! What kind of professional says something like that? If he wont teach our filly we can find another school!" That was Daddy.

"It's not that he wont, he just thinks she needs special attention. I mean, she's behind every one of her classmates! We knew this would be-"

Daddy interrupted Mommy. "She doesn't need special attention! She needs a teacher who'll shut up and do his job! He's just a useless, lazy earth pony! What, he wants us to hire a specialist?"

"Mr. Glen thinks it would be best for Ditzy Doo if we found somepony. . ."

"And where in the hay are we gonna find the bits for that?!? We've sunk so much into doctor visits and stupid psychiatric evaluations we're barely scraping by as is!"

"I know. . . I just, I'll find a second job. Shimmershine says there's an opening at the post office. . ."

There were loud gulps, like the sound of someone drinking. "And add 'foalsitter' to our long list of expenses? Huh? Is that your plan?"

"I really wish you wouldn't-"

"It's too late for that."

"It's never too late to quit drinking like this."

"It's too late to keep this bloody, gut-rotted apartment!!! We never made last month's rent. We've been evicted."

A gasp. "Haze. . . what do you mean, 'evicted'?"

"You're not stupid enough to ask me that."

"But. . . but we get thirty days, don't we? That's the law, right?"

Another long drink. "Yeah, except it came over two weeks ago."

". . . Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought, somehow, I'd figure something out. But I guess I couldn't."

"Oh blessed Celestia. . . We, um, we. . . w-we could stay with my sister-"

"And be a family of worthless parasites? I'd rather rot in a gutter!"

"Like feeling sorry for yourself is going to help anything! Think about your daughter!"

The sound of a bench scraping across the floor. "Oh, I do. I think about her all the time. I think about her when I wake up, and I think about her when I go to sleep at night. Do you want to know what I think? Hmmmm? I wonder what our life would have been like if she wasn't as slow and messed-up as she is."

"Please, just stop-"

"I also wonder why we couldn't have just left her in the Everfree at birth. Our lives would be so much easier, wouldn't they? The world wouldn't have even noticed the difference! Oh, don't start with the damn tears. . ."

Mom was crying. "I would care, you. . . you monster. . . you vicious, ignorant beast. . ."

"Oh shut up. You know I'm right. Don't wait up for me." The back door slammed open and shut again, leaving the sound of Mommy's crying all alone. The foal found that she was crying too. Her cheeks were wet and her insides felt all twisted up into horrible knots.

The foal turned and scampered back into her room. She threw herself underneath the covers, but she'd nudged the door on her way in, and it opened wide and hit the wall with a small thud. This sound was quickly followed by hoofsteps on the stairs. The tiny filly buried herself beneath the covers, trying to hide.

There was the sound of a sniffle at the doorway, and the light from the hallway was suddenly blocked by a soft silhouette. "Ditzy, baby?" The pile of blankets on the bed quivered and shook a little. "Oh, darling. . ."

A comforting weight settled beside her on the bed, and strong legs curled protectively around her. For a while, a mother simply held her child and whispered soothing words until the twisted knots in the filly's insides eased a bit.

The filly tried to speak, but all that came out was a sad mumble. "What was that, dear?"

The filly tried again. "I'm sorry, Mommy."

"Whatever for, sugar?"

"For. . . For. . . For. . . making. . . Daddy. . . leave. . ."

"No. . . Oh, no no, no no no sweetheart. Please don't, dear sweet blessed mother of the sun no. . ." For a moment, it seemed like Mommy was going to cry again. But she didn't. "Daddy and I had a fight, that's all. He's just tired and frustrated with money stuff. It's not your fault."

"But, but he said it was. I remember him saying so." It was true. She could remember most things that were said perfectly. The other foals at school called her 'tape recorder' sometimes. They weren't being nice when they did.

"Well, then remember me telling you how very, very special you are."

There was no response. But it didn't seem as though anything had changed for her foal. She was still shaking and crying softly.

"Okay. Okay, come with me Doo. Come on, follow me."

The mother grabbed the blanket off the bed with her teeth and trotted over to a pair of doors leading to the balcony. It was usually off-limits at night, but Mom unlatched the doors and stepped out into the brisk night. Her filly followed her. The air was just a little chilly, and the foal ruffled her feathers and shivered a bit to warm herself. That is, until her mother swept her up into the blanket and drew her in close for a firm hug. The foal's favorite kind.

"All right, my little gemstone." Mommy said. Mommy always had lots of different names for her. "I want you to look up into the sky, and I want you to pick out your favorite star. Can you do that for Mommy?"

The filly's dandelion-colored eyes tracked up into the sky, blinking at the dazzling map the stars provided. Mom watched her daughter's eyes slowly, beautifully come into focus, both of them pointing the same direction as a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "That one." She said, pointing.

Her mother followed her daughter's gaze skyward, trying in vain to pick out which star her daughter might mean. "Ah, that star is quite beautiful, fruit cup." She kept her eyes trained heavenward as she pulled her filly in closer. "I know that every parent thinks their foal is special. My own mother always told me I was very special, all the time. But, if every foal is special, then I figured that none of us could be. At least, that's what I thought."

Her mother sighed, and continued. "So, maybe we can write a letter to Princess Celestia, asking her not to bring out that one star again. Maybe she can banish it somewhere, so it wont shine down on us anymore."

"No!" Ditzy's voice sounded upset, and she pushed away from her mother enough to glare her hurt at her. "No, Mommy!"

Her mother only smiled. "Ah, you see? That star, one in millions twinkling beautifully above us, that one star is important to you. I would no more banish that star from the sky than I would ever let go of you, my beautiful filly." She pulled her daughter in close again, and her daughter let her. "You see, we are all as unique and special as a star in the sky, and the love we feel for each other, and for the world around us, that love is like the light that shines from every single star."

Her mother kissed the top of her daughter's head as she blinked a pair of tears free. "And this world would be a little darker and a little sadder without you in it. Do you understand me?" Her daughter nodded, her head buried in her mother's fur and mane. "Good. I want you to remember this forever and always, okay?" Another silent nod. "I love you so much, bright eyes."

"I love you too, Mommy."

Ditzy Doo emerged from the memory with a sigh and a quiet smile. It wasn't her favorite memory, not really. There was too much pain in it. It also wasn't her happiest memory to relive. But it was one of her most powerful. And her mother had asked her to never forget. So she didn't. That was also the night that she started to learn how to love herself, despite being so different from every other pony around her.

Ditzy gently swerved around some stray clouds. Their soft, fluffy surfaces looked inviting, but the pegasus ignored their call. She was on important mailmare business. She adjusted the large canvass bags slung across her flanks and checked yet again to make sure she hadn't dropped any of the parcels or letters in her charge. It wouldn't be the first time she'd dropped something by accident.

With everything in order, Ditzy turned her face back into the wind of her flight. With some effort her eyes focused on the horizon, and the looming shape of Canterlot mountain swam into view, with the gleaming spires of the city refracting the sunlight in every direction. A pair of waterfalls cascaded off of the city's edge, plunging thousands of pony-lengths into pure mist. Twin rainbows arced through that mist, as though every color in existence should be present for such majesty. It was a beautiful sight, and the mailmare never tired of looking at it.

Good. She thought to herself. I have time for one more memory. The grey pegasus sifted through her memories, looking for one of her favorites. Probably one involving her daughter. There were so many wonderful moments to choose from ever since her daughter was born. It seemed like every day was a new source of joy, and Ditzy Doo rarely forgot one.

But she couldn't settle on just one. And as the great city of Canterlot loomed closer and closer, she was filled with frustration. She wondered why she would feel that way. Was it because she had so many good memories that she couldn't choose which one to remember? No, that wasn't right. How could too many good memories make her feel badly? Was she frustrated that her job took her away from spending time with her filly? No, that wasn't right. Dinky Doo was in school now, and Ditzy had learned that school was different for her child than it had been for her. She did well in her studies, and the other students liked her. So did her teacher. Also, Ditzy couldn't be mad at her job. Her job was good.

So why was she feeling upset?

The pegasus shrugged, hoping it wasn't because she forgot something important. She spiraled down towards the castle, as it was always her first stop for Canterlot deliveries. The royal palace sent and received lots of mail. She descended towards the front gates, keeping a careful eye on them so that she didn't veer off course. However, her other eye caught sight of something at the edge of the statue garden below her. A small gathering of ponies clustered out in the morning sun.

There was a mint pony who was Lyra Heartstrings, and a pony that made her think of candy that was Bon Bon, and a pony that made her think of toothpaste that was Minuette but ponies called her Colgate because of her mane, and on old pony in robes like a teacher who she hadn't met, and a pink pony with wings and a horn who was Princess Cadance, and a white pony Ditzy remembered marrying the pink pony like a month ago who was Shining Armor, and Princess Luna.

Princess Luna? The mailmare thought, Oh, maybe I can just give the mail to her. Most ponies love to get mail. Maybe Princesses do too. She changed course and angled down into the garden. But then she noticed that the hushed voices sounded like arguing.

Ditzy Doo hesitated, concerned. She didn't like confrontations. They reminded her too much of bad things and bad feelings. But then, another memory came to her. The memory of a blue pegasus with a striking rainbow mane who had always been extra nice to her. Rainbow Dash had said, just before she left. . . You make sure everypony is being good. Can you do that for me? And she'd said Okay. So she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and marched right up to the arguing ponies.

Prince Shining Armor gazed out into the distance. "We have to evacuate Canterlot. Get everypony as far from here as we can."

Luna swiftly contradicted him. "There is no time for such actions. This vile spirit may be freed within the day. We cannot risk the confusion of a mass exodus."

Shining glared angrily. "You'd rather this creep had more toys to play with? Discord has the power to murder ponies with a snap of his fingers! It's a wonder there weren't more casualties the last time he was freed!"

Luna managed a look brimming with belittling disdain. "Indeed, the Spirit of Chaos seeks not death. He learned the lesson in ages past that the dead are no fun to torment."

"All the more reason to get these civilians out of here as fast as possible!"

Princess Cadance placed a gentle hoof on Shining's chest. "Easy, dear heart." He glanced down at her hoof and seemed to notice for the first time how close he'd stepped into Luna's personal space. He took a quick step back, chagrined. She continued. "Besides, where would you have everypony go? Discord's reach is very far, I understand."

Lyra chimed in. "Yeah, he turned Ponyville into a circus last year."

Minuette rolled her eyes. "A circus would have been an improvement."

Lyra sighed, exasperated. "You know what I meant, Colgate."

"Of course! That's not what I. . . rrrgh, stop deliberately misunderstanding me!" She shook her head in frustration.

Bon Bon bowed a little in Cadance's direction. "Um, your highness, isn't your special talent something about spreading love? Why can't you stop Discord?"

Cadance shook her head. "Love is not the antithesis to chaos. I wish it was. If that were the case, I think Equestria might already be safe. But no, even those who love each other dearly still argue, still fight. Love must face disharmony just as every one of us must." She turned her head and flicked her ears towards the gray-maned pony across from her. "Perhaps Professor Lime Kiln has some ideas."

The old mare in Canterlot University robes wheezed, "Well, my team of students and I have been studying the harmonic resonance of various mana crystals. Perhaps, with the proper arrangement, we can bolster the fading strength of this stone and buy us some time until Celestia can return with the Elements."

"Mana crystals?" Shining Armor shouted, incredulous. "Against Discord!? We may as well try to confine a full-grown dragon with Legos!"

Luna ignored his outburst. "Retrieve anything which may assist us, Professor, yet I fear no help from the Elements will be forthcoming. Celestia has taken them far away."

Bon Bon glanced from Princess to Princess. "Why? I mean, why did she go away and leave us defenseless, your majesties?"

Cadance sighed. "I'm not sure. She never told me."

Luna blinked. "She moves to meet a threat in a distant land."

Bon stamped a hoof. "But why would she do that? We have grave dangers to face right here!"

"We assure you, little filly." Luna's tone was just a little harsh. "The force she moves against is a dire threat indeed. Perhaps more so than this, though it pains us to say so."

"Oh goddess, no. . . I can't take it. . ." Bon buried her face in Lyra's mane.

Minuette chaffed. "Oh toughen up, you wet sock."

Lyra's ears flattened out, and she threw an arm around her mare. "Watch it, Paste!"

"Um, ahem!" Kiln cleared her throat and waved a rickety hoof around. "We have lots of promising unicorn understudies on campus now. If we gathered them alongside the unicorns of the Royal Guard, perhaps we could give your 'useless Legos' some real juice. At least it would be doing something productive should antagonizing one another fail to produce results."

"That's crazy!" Shining's eyes were wide with fear. "The slightest waver in the power flow, and Discord will shatter it like glass."

Luna nodded her agreement. "The only reason the full power of the Elements of Harmony were proof against this devil is because they were capable of creating a spell without flaws. From within, there were no weak points for Discord to pry at."

"Em," Kiln chewed her bottom lip. "We could have the unicorns work in shifts?"

Cadance perked up and nudged her husband. "Hey, what about your defense spell? Do you think it could at least keep Discord from leaving Canterlot?"

Shining scoffed. "Not a chance. He'd just turn the whole thing to chutney, or something else edible and ridiculous. I can't contain something like him!"

"I wasn't attacking you. Don't get so defensive!"

"I wasn't being defensive dear, just rational."

"Oh, and I'm not being rational?"

Minuette slumped into a depressed sit. "So, the most powerful magic-users in Canterlot, and we have no ideas. Nothing at all that might work? That's just great!"

Bon Bon's eyes looked red, as though she'd been crying. "I vote we all get as far from here as possible."

"Haven't you heard any of this? It wont make a difference!" Lyra snapped and shoved her mare friend away with her hooves.

"Nothing anypony does will make a difference!" Bon seemed almost hysterical.

"So maybe we should all just throw ourselves off the mountain, huh?" Minuette shot back. "Is that your next great plan?"

"Maybe I will!" Bon yelled back.

Cadance tried to restrain the earth pony with her hooves. "Please, you can't do this!"

"Don't touch her!" Lyra screamed, and she drove a hoof across Cadance's face. The slender alicorn made no move to defend herself, and her head snapped to the side from the blow.

In an instant, Shining Armor had Lyra levitated in front of him encased in his lavender magic, and a vicious snarl ripped its way across his features. Cadance gasped, "Shining, don't!" Luna merely looked on, impassive.

There was a brief and terrible moment when Shining Armor glanced at his wife and noticed a tiny smudge of red on her golden hoof-shod. The one she held to her mouth. He twitched, and tendrils of darkness began to appear around the fringes of his magical aura. Hate crumpled his features, and Lyra gasped in pain as his spell began to bend her backwards.

Until a gray mare with a wall-eyed stare walked calmly into their midst and threw her hooves around Shining Armor in a genuinely affectionate hug. Everyone froze in place, and Shining's eyes went very wide. No one dared to draw breath as the moment stretched to two, then three, then five. The magic vanished, and Lyra dropped to the grass and lay still, panting. Shining Armor buried his face in his hooves, shaking like a leaf in a gale.

The tension in the atmosphere began to fray at the edges, and the air began to taste of early fall rather than the thick viscosity of panic. Bon Bon gathered Lyra up in her arms, looking like she might never let go again. Cadance did the same to her beloved, curling herself around Shining and whispering calm reassurances into his ear. Minuette just sat, stunned. Luna glared her sudden understanding across the green grass of the garden. "Dissonance. Machinations of a Trickster. Verily, we should have seen Discord's claw in all of this."

Ditzy turned in a slow circle. She wasn't glaring at everyone, not exactly. But her scrunched face conveyed sadness and, even worse, disappointment. She spoke in a high-pitched voice that cracked around the edges. "Rainbow Dash said to make sure her ponies were being good." She stamped a hoof in frustration. "So you have to be good, okay?" The tears in her golden eyes were like clouds blocking out the sun. "Now say you're sorry!"

Shining just looked like he wanted to sink into the ground, but he steeled himself to meet Lyra's gaze. "I am so, so sorry. There is no excuse. Not even Discord should be able to make me. . . Please, are you all right?"

Lyra nodded numbly. "I'm fine. Um, s-sorry I hit your wife."

Cadance smiled, though her smile was strained. "Of course we accept your apology." Shining Armor looked like an abashed foal at her side, but he nodded his agreement.

"We feel apologetic as well." Princess Luna stepped forward to stand before everyone. "We allowed even our ancient and disciplined emotions to be swayed. Further proof that Discord's origins predate my sister and I. Young mail mare, you have our gratitude for restoring our sense of harmony this day." With that, the Princess of the Night bent one knee and gracefully bowed before the simple pegasus.

Ditzy smiled, and it was both beautiful and genuine. "Good." She said. Then she hastily added, "Oh. You're welcome!"

Minuette startled the pegasus with a hug from the side. "Thanks, Derpy. It's a good thing you came by when you did."

A wave of murmured gratitude washed over Ditzy Doo, and the mare smiled at everyone in turn. Shining waited until it died down to speak. "Hey, is your name Ditzy or Derpy?"

Her face scrunched up in thought for a moment before another smile cleared away her concentration. "Yes." She said definitively.

Shining Armor chuckled. "Well, whoever you are, I owe you big time."

Ditzy's smile faded, and she poked him in the chest with a solemn hoof. "You have to be good, okay? For Dashie." Shining nodded, equally serious.

Then Ditzy spun around, lifted out a hoof-full of letters and a parcel, and set them down in front of Luna. "Mail!" She sang out, then she flew away. No one there at the time knew that she was filing this event away as a very good memory indeed.

"Harmony! Heh-hah! Of course!" Professor Lime Kiln startled everyone by capering about on her rickety legs. "Heh heh heh heee, you're right Princess! You're right!" She wound up on her two front hooves, staring Cadance in the eyes.

Cadance lit up with hope. "You've thought of something, haven't you? What is it? Please, tell us!"

Kiln sat back on her haunches. "Love is not antithetical to to chaos. Only harmony can withstand the effects of Discord. Therefore, it's the power of harmony we must harness."

Luna shook her head. "Were it only so simple. True harmony is not one solitary flow of energy, but a complex blend of separate elements, shifting yet in balance."

"And, uh," Lyra raised a hoof. "And the Elements of Harmony are out of reach. Isn't that the whole reason we're facing a crisis to begin with?"

Lime Kiln gestured around her. "I believe the city is feeling the strain of Discord's dissonance even now, yet the spirit of harmony remains. Doesn't it?"

Cadance quickly turned to Luna. "She's right. The effects of harmony still permeate Equestria. Can't we harness that somehow? Try to bolster it?"

Luna nodded solemnly. "Perhaps. Professor?"

"I will gather what crystals may be promising in the University courtyard. But we will need a wise strategy for their application."

"Okay, we'll come up with a plan." Cadance placed a hoof on the older earth pony's shoulder. "Go now, and hurry."

Lime Kiln turned away and stumbled. "Gah! Cursed Goddess-forsaken hip!"

Minuette rushed to her side. "Here, let me help you." She allowed the mare to lean upon her as they walked away together.

Shining Armor still looked skeptical. "Harmonic crystals wont generate anything that could contain Discord. He'll slip out of anything they generate in a heartbeat."

"Thouart correct," Luna looked as though she was thinking furiously. "However, should we use thy shield as a foundation, and then imbue this base with harmonic elements sustained by unicorn magic and channeled through the proper mana crystals. . ."

Shining's features turned thoughtful, and his ears perked up. "That. . . that might help a little. Hey, it might even work! For a little while, at least."

Cadance's voice was heavy with concern. "So, maybe an evacuation is in order. If there's even a chance that we can contain Discord here, then we need to get as many innocent civilians to safety as we can."

"Agreed." Luna squared her shoulders. "Shining Armor, order every contingent of earth ponies within the royal guard to assist in moving supplies for the evacuation, and prep every unicorn guard for battle. Full armor and armament. Brief them on every trick we know Discord has, and have them report to the University courtyard."

"Of course, Princess." Shining saluted crisply.

"Princess Cadance, gather the pegasi guards and have them spread the word and assist the populace. They must encourage every citizen who will hear them to hold harmony in their hearts if we are to stand a chance of weathering this catastrophe. Further, have the pegasi recruit any unicorn of talent who wishes to serve Equestria in its time of need and instruct them to report to the University as well. We will need all the power we can muster."

"I will." Cadance said, hope strengthening her voice.

Luna continued. "In the meantime, we shall consult the Solar Archives. Perhaps Twilight's reports can shed more light upon the nature of harmony and how we might best harness its might."

"W-what can I do?" Lyra meekly asked. A gentle breeze caught and played with Lyra's mane a little, and she brushed it out of her face.

Bon Bon moved to stand between her and everyone else. "We can evacuate with all of the others." She said, worried.

"No." Lyra told her gently. "I'd like to help. This. . . creature crawled inside my brain and encouraged me to hurt my closest friends. I need to do something. Or else I'm just going to lose what little sanity I have left."

"Fair enough, Lyra." Shining Armor indicated the gates leaving the garden. "We might need all the help we can get. Find the professor and your friend, maybe they could use a hoof setting up their crystals." Lyra nodded. He continued, "But before that, my dear, see if you can find us twenty-thousand gallons of almond butter ganache and a large truck filled with small rubber ducks and bring them here."

Lyra's ears perked in surprise. "What?" Shining Armor shook his head, as though he heard an annoying buzz in his ears.

"Stop it, Discord!" Cadance hissed, stepping around her husband and taking a defensive stance, eyeing her surroundings suspiciously. "Leave him alone!"

"Wait," Shining looked confused. "What did I say?"

A hollow laugh slid through the air, distant and tinged with scorn. Although everyone heard it, not one of them heard it with their ears. "Oh Missus Mi Shiny Armor-Armoire-Credenza, you are exactly as stuffy as an alicorn should be. When do you ever lighten up and have fun?"

"Chess is fun," Cadance answered out loud, "Curling is fun. The misery you peddle is only fun for you."

The disembodied voice yawned. "Rules, rules and more rules. Your games are as boring and predictable as the laws of physics, my dear. And what true fun is it following the rules of either? But worry not, for I intend to teach you all about the fun you could be having. Very soon."

Cadance looked as though she had an angry retort ready, but Luna tilted Cadance's gaze towards her with a hoof. "Offer him not thy words, for they shall simply become as daggers in his arsenal, sharpened especially for thee."

"Spoken like true royalty, my Princess." Discord sneered the word. "Altogether prudent and pointless. You know, I'm actually rather curious about this harmonic shield you're all so keen to try out. But you may wish to keep your precious mana crystals outside of the shield and out of my reach if you expect it to work."

"We're not going to make this easy, Discord!" Shining added. "We're going to put up a fight like you wouldn't believe."

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't, Captain Shiny-pants. But really, put up all the fight you like. Your greatest leaders and champions are simply determined to get themselves killed on the other side of the world. So, that pretty much means it's game over, doesn't it, oh last defenders of harmony?"

Confident laughter coiled softly through the cluster of ponies as they glanced worriedly at one another.

20: Fateful Hour

"Captain, we've cleaned out the piston chambers and re-oiled the bearings." The dim light cast from Sun Shade's lantern threw strange shadows around the storage room. The pegasus it illuminated looked tired, as though he hadn't slept all night. Which he hadn't. None of them had. "We need to prime the main and secondary pumps before we can try starting the engines again."

Thistle's voice rang with confidence and leadership. "And when the turbine and fuel crews report in, we may give that a shot." The more exhausted and worn the airship Captain became, his commands grew sharper and clearer. He was at his best under pressure. "Until then we're sitting pretty. Now fetch yourself a light and help check the hull for stress fractures."

"But Captain, I thought we spent all night bleeding the lines and dismantling the engine blocks so we could use the sunlight to search. . ."

Thistle glared down his beak. "And if the circuits aren't completely dry, even priming the secondary pumps would cause a massive short, setting us back hours!" He moved to a locker and reached inside, pulling out a lantern and throwing it at the pony's hooves. "Go help the hull shift. By the first forge, you're an engineer aboard the Aether's Vigil! Celestia says she's bringing up the sun early today, so that means no time for mistakes! Sleep when you're dead and until then, let me do the thinking. Got it?"

"Sir." The pony picked up the lantern and shuffled away.

Sun Shade scowled. "Don't think for one second I missed that."

"Look, I can find the rest of the solvent on my own." Thistle carefully stepped to the back of the room. "Maybe you should check on Pin Feather and see what kind of supplies he needs to restock the infirmary. Goddesses know what state those lost souls might be in if we find them." He pried open a floor hatch with a nearby metal bar and hauled out a large metal locker. Popping the seals, he flipped the top open and began rummaging around inside. "And because you're just dying for me to ask, what is it that you didn't miss?"

"Finally." Sun Shade rolled her eyes. "I know you didn't mean to throw that lantern."

"And why didn't I?" He asked innocently. "As captain I have the job of keeping my crew in line at all times. Yes, sometimes this means being strict. Maybe stringing a few of them up by their primaries once in awhile, but it's nothing they aren't used to."

His companion didn't rise to the verbal bait. And she didn't buy it for one second. "The numbness, how far has it spread?"

The gryphon exhaled through his nares. "It's just past the wrist here, it's not that bad. Just feels like it fell asleep or something."

"Thistle," Without transition Sun Shade was by his side, and she stopped his movements with a magenta hoof. "How long have we known each other?"

Thistle sighed. If he'd had a bit for every time she said that. . . He'd have two bits. Maybe. Sun Shade almost never dropped the veneer of playful sarcasm she placed between herself and the world. "Hmmph, forever, at least."

"Remember that first year of college, when you stood up to Professor Arlix in front of the whole class because he kept singling me out?"

Thistle laughed despite himself. "That gryphon wasn't worth his weight in plucked feathers."

"Yes, well, he wasn't the only one prepared to shoot down a high-class and well-bred lady just because she happened to take an interest in mechanicals and inventing."

"Heh, maybe if you hadn't used your first demonstration to insult him directly to his beak. . ."

"I've never forgotten those who believed in me. Those who've stood beside me. Now here we are together, and your task is looking after one of the mechanical marvels of our time. Please, allow me to look after you." She stared deep into his eyes, imploring. "The numbness. How far has it spread?"

Flecks of dust danced in the lantern light between them, suspended by unseen eddies of air. Thistle's features, only partially illuminated down in the darkness, fell in resignation. His eartufts drooped. He traced a foreclaw up his arm and stopped, drawing a line just below his shoulder.

Sun Shade blinked a tear free, but she nodded. "Okay then. Th-that's what, two hours left, m-maybe? Before it reaches your. . ."

The gryphon rolled a shoulder in a subtle shrug. He spoke softly and carefully. "I'd say three, at least. Listen, Shade, we need to keep it together. There are two ponies and a dragon who might still be alive. Right now, they mean a whole lot more than I do. And there are a lot more souls left who need this bird to get them home again. Even if it's with my last breath, I need to get this thing back in the air. And I could use your help."

Shade nodded. "I know. And. . . and I'm going to help you." She sniffled in a very unladylike fashion. "But I swear that when you go all floppy and useless, I'm going to drag you to the infirmary myself and make Pin Feather do his worst." She pulled his head down level with hers. "Maybe you've resigned yourself to this, but you'd damn well better put up a fight! Do you hear me? If you were to die without making, I don't know, at least some sort of needlessly dramatic display, I shall be quite put out!"

Thistle's beak cracked into a soft grin, and he chuckled under his breath. Sun Shade, too, found the will to smile a little. Then she wiped at her cheek, sniffled again, and then turned and snapped open a bag she'd brought down with her. Together, they started filling it with supplies.

When Celestia raised the sun, the first rays of dawn crested the eastern horizon. But the light was a mottled red and cancerous thing. The writhing shadows it cast upon the circle of companions made familiar faces appear sunken and unhealthy. Almost cadaverous. Twilight Sparkle couldn't quite shake the feeling that it was an ominous portent. She didn't want to try the spell at all. The unicorn was suddenly very afraid of what she might find out.

Twilight stood shoulder to shoulder with her friends upon the highest point of their modest island. It was a small rocky hillock surrounded by brush and trees. Before her, Luna carefully levitated a large metal bowl, and she set it down gently before Twilight. A quiet voice threaded itself through the still, tainted air.

"Um, why do we all look like zombies?" Pinkie whispered loudly.

Celestia's reply was also hushed. "I believe the blight upon the mainland is simply filtering the light. As the sun rises, the light should become clean again."

"Oh, okay." Her wide eyes might have only expressed concern, but in this strange light they appeared panicked. "Twilight, do you think this will work?"

"I don't know." She responded truthfully. "If the distances don't render this spell impossible, the water might. It's hard to tell."

"Just tell us what to do, dear." Rarity had managed to prop herself up alongside her friends, having hitched a ride with Applejack through the trees. "And we shall all do our best."

Pinkie Pie asked, "Are we all supposed to stomp together? Like you're doing?"

Only then did Twilight notice that she'd been pounding the thin soil beneath her with a hoof. She stopped herself and blushed a little. She'd been feeling the vibrations of her hoofsteps up her front leg, but only above her elbow. The rest of her leg felt completely numb, like it belonged to some other pony. And she still had no intentions of worrying her friends with her condition. They had other friends to rescue. "Let's try focusing on Rainbow Dash's location. Picture her necklace in your mind, and hold it there."

"Might I suggest picturing her instead?" Princess Celestia offered, "Remember, the magic within her Element has become entwined with her very essence. Her Element is but a channel. I believe Rainbow Dash herself will be a more suitable target."

"So, just think of Dashie?" Pinkie closed her eyes. "Easy enough."

Applejack and Rarity followed suit. Twilight shuddered. In that light, as her closest friends fell still, it was too easy to imagine them all dead. She turned back to the bowl of sand, locking her eyes upon the smooth surface composed of tiny pale grains.

Luna spoke from behind her. "Focus Twilight, and we will lend thee our strength."

Twilight steadied herself with a breath. "Okay, here goes." Her horn began to glow.

As Twilight began to cast her spell, she pictured Rainbow Dash in her mind. She imagined her spiky mane, bold crimson eyes and sky-blue coat. She pictured the shape of her wings and her careless smirk. She remembered how her friend's voice would drone when she was bored, how it would crack when she was excited. Twilight pulled up every emotion she could connect to Dash. Like the pride she felt at Rainbow's accomplishments. The joy they'd shared together as friends. The care and concern she felt. The hope that Rainbow might one day fulfill her dream of flying with the Wonderbolts.

Twilight felt it when the crown atop her head lit with the same lavender glow as her horn. She could feel the other three Elements near her light up with their own soft colors. She cast her spell out into the leylines of the world with equal amounts of hope and dread.

The distance was incredible. Twilight's awareness began to fray along the endless miles, her magic sapped hopelessly away from her mental grasp. It felt like she was casting all of her wishes and dreams, along with her last bit, into a well with no bottom.

But then the alicorn sisters behind her opened up their magic to her, and their ageless force swept through her body and mind. Magical power flooded her, and the island exploded into detail, revealing every leaf and twig and pebble to her senses. The varied breaths of the ponies around her became as vivid to her as the shifting waves lapping every edge of the island. Even the mainland leapt into stark relief, every shift and skurl of shadows revealed to her like a shroud cast off of an ill-preserved corpse.

Yet the mysteries of the curse could wait. Twilight had another task at hoof. She poured her given power into her spell and she felt something, an end to the reach of her magic. She quickly narrowed the glow from her Element onto the bowl before her and projected the other half of the spell. She felt rather than saw the sands before her shifting. But she couldn't open her eyes. Not yet. She'd had her fill of heartbreak, and Twilight Sparkle cringed away from the possible pain of discovery the way a foal might cringe away from a hot stove.

"Hey!" Pinkie Pie's voice carried none of those reservations. "It's working!"

The brightness in Pinkie's voice bolstered Twilight's courage, and she blinked her eyes open. The bowl of sand shone with a violet glow, and the grains within shifted and flowed about one another with a soft, constant hiss. But the sand mounding itself in the center had a hazy, indistinct outline. Flecks of sand leapt and popped, interference rendering the shape difficult to focus on. Twilight thought she glimpsed the vague silhouette of a pony, but she couldn't be sure. Especially through the blood-haze of the evil dawn. It could have been anyone.

Rarity gave voice to Twilight's thoughts. "I. . . I can't make anything out."

"Is it supposed ta look so muzzy?" Applejack asked.

"Can't you see?" Pinkie Pie looked as though she might smile at any moment. "It's Rainbow Dash! She's. . . I think she's swimming, and she's. . . talking to. . . um. . . a bowl of pudding on her back."

"Uh-huh." Applejack had sarcasm down to an art form. "Bowl of puddin'? Now, where in tarnation would Rainbow get a bowl filled with pudding in the middle of the ocean?"

Pinkie Pie, completely deadpan, said. "From sea ponies?"

Applejack sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose as best she could with a hoof.

"Forgive my reticence," Rarity spoke slowly, squinting hard at the miniature sandstorm before them. "But perhaps there's some way to boost the spell's power? I would love to share Pinkie's confidence."

In a flash of intuition, Twilight realized that she hadn't pulled up every emotion she connected to Dash. Not by a long shot. There was the frustration she felt whenever Rainbow let her ego get out of hoof. Anger at her occasional carelessness. The pain Rainbow could cause when she said something thoughtless. Exasperation. Exasperation in absolute spades some days. When Twilight allowed herself to picture every facet of her friendship with Rainbow Dash, not just the good parts, the spell solidified. The living sand sculpture tightened and resolved into a clean image.

And she was there. A tiny Rainbow Dash swam through a shifting sea of sand. Her necklace hung above her shoulders, barely visible. Her wings clamped tight to her sides. and atop her back was a vague half-sphere. Twilight thought she had an idea. . .

"Oh!" Pinkie Pie shattered the silence. "It's not a bowl of pudding at all! It's Spike!"

Celestia spoke without breaking contact with Twilight or the spell. "You are correct, Pinkie. His scales are resisting the magic."

Pinkie's whole demeanor drooped just before she might have laughed for joy. Her pink ears sank towards the dirt beneath her. "But. . . but he's not moving."

"We-" Twilight wanted to allay Pinkie's fears instantly, but her throat was crowded with her own. To get even a partial glimpse of Spike, and to see him not moving, Possibly injured? She didn't have words for the dismay she felt.

Luna seemed to instantly understand. "What we know is that our Rainbow Dash yet lives and breathes. Further, it seems likely that if she is still trying to preserve young Spike, 'tis only because he clings to life as well. This is fair news indeed. We can move confidently with this information."

Applejack's pragmatism leapt to the rescue. "Smellin' salts." Everyone present turned to look at the farm mare. Applejack tossed her straw-colored ponytail over her shoulder. "If we know Spike's unconscious, let's send Rainbow a care package with smellin' salts inside. Might have the little guy up and about in a jiffy, right?"

"Hey, yeah!" Pinkie brightened a little.

So did Twilight. "Good thinking! Although it is Rainbow Dash. We should probably send along instructions, just in case."

"And something floaty." Applejack continued. "She's just got to be mighty tuckered tryin' to swim like that for how long she's been gone. She needs something to rest on, wouldn'tcha think?"

"Yes." Twilight followed her friend's train of thought right into the station. "And maybe we can find some type of flare we can send her. Something she can light up the sky with from the water!" Twilight grew more and more happy as hope flooded her heart. "Maybe Fluttershy's with them!" She threw her arms around Rarity and squeezed, leaving Rarity with one leg pegged in the dirt and the other stuck out at an awkward angle. "Oh, maybe everything will be okay after all!"

"Perhaps you are right, Twilight." Celestia's words were soft and warm. "We will send these things along immediately upon our return. But perhaps we should perform the spell again while we are all still here."

Twilight brought herself back under control, but she couldn't seem to stop beaming. "Um, yes. Of course, your Highness. Let's check on Fluttershy." She hadn't realized just how malnourished her soul had become since the world-shearing hurricane reft her of her friends. The barest taste of hope upon her lips, and she felt utterly renewed. Like the first sip of water offered to one dying of thirst. Or perhaps the first glimpse of sunrise after a seemingly endless night.

She directed a last hopeful look full of care and concern towards the brave figure swimming through sand before her, and then she broke her link to the spell, and the moving sculpture of Dash settled into an uneven mound. Twilight focused her thoughts on the other lost pegasus. She thought of Fluttershy's soft voice and sun-yellow coat. She pictured the way that Fluttershy's mane always seemed to fall into the shape of a heart. She imagined. . .

She could already feel the spell working. Fighting a splash of surprise Twilight completed the spell, and the sand before her shifted. In a moment, an image had resolved itself into perfect clarity. It was unmistakably Fluttershy from forelock to fetlocks, and she was flapping enough for a low hover.

"She's okay too!" Pinkie Pie's features started to brighten.

Twilight felt her stomach drop into her hooves. She'd noticed the way Fluttershy's tail lashed from side to side, as though she were trying to shake off a clump of fuzzy sand attached to it. And the look of fear on the little sand sculpture's face hit her like a physical blow. "Wait. . ." Twilight gasped weakly, reaching forward as though she might help somehow. Whatever had a hold of Fluttershy's tail had the pegasus very, very scared.

But another glob of sand reared up while she was distracted and attached itself to her leg. Flutterhsy's mouth produced no sound when it opened, but Twilight's ears twitched anyhow. And then she was pulled back to the sand. Her hooves kicked frantically, but it seemed to no avail. If anypony spoke around her, Twilight didn't hear it.

Shapeless mounds surrounded Fluttershy's figure, and in moments it was over. Despite the way that every grain of sand streamed and flowed through and between one another, it was crystal clear. Fluttershy wasn't moving anymore. Her mouth hung open, and her slim form lay still as stone, her legs and wings splayed awkwardly.

Pinkie's voice was a lost, hollow thing. "Fluttershy. . . G-get up. . ."

Twilight felt the warmth drain from her limbs, and her chest felt suddenly constricted, as though she couldn't quite get enough air into her lungs. This was the moment she had dreaded, the painful realization that the twisted shoreline and the unclean light had delivered on their promises. Luna's soft gasp and Celestia's murmured dismay barely reached her ears. The world spun around her, vertigo and nausea swirling about a single focal point. An enchanted bowl of sand and an image of unutterable loss.

Rarity choked back a sob.

"Oh. . . mercy, no. . ." Applejack breathed.

Twilight was vaguely aware that Celestia had placed a comforting hoof upon her shoulder. Twilight might have brushed her away if the world wasn't spinning so fast. She needed every hoof on the ground just to stay upright. Her mentor spoke soothing inanities, but Twilight couldn't fathom why. There was nothing to be said. She just couldn't quite process the picture before her. She couldn't wrap her mind around it. It was just too big.

"Wait! What's that?" Pinkie pointed, brushing tears and her straight mane away from her vision. "That, right there!"

Twilight planted her hooves wide in an attempt to slow the ground, which seemed determined to dump her onto her side. She forced her eyes to focus properly, glaring through the pain in her chest. She saw nothing.

"Wait! No. . . now! Her tail!"

And Twilight saw it. The very tip of Fluttershy's tail drifted up, and settled back down into place. It was obvious. Twilight fit the pieces together. "She's on the shore. Of course, she's on the shore somewhere! We have to find her!" She turned a pleading gaze upon the alicorn sisters.

Luna looked to her sister. "The shore is vast, and the direction of our pegasus uncertain." She noted these things without any hint of dissuasion. She was merely relating tactics.

Celestia turned a gaze full of sympathy upon her student. Her voice heavy with grief. "We may already be too late. . ."

Twilight was scarcely aware of how she reacted. It was more like the pain in her chest bypassed all logic and reason, and caused her eyes to narrow murderously. She may have prowled forward a menacing step as well. Celestia verbally backpedaled. "Of course we will find her, Twilight. I never meant to imply otherwise. We simply must think this through."

"Where do we start?" Applejack asked, trying hard to force determination into her voice. "I mean, which way do we head?"

One shuddering, painful breath was all it took for Twilight Sparkle to remember herself, and her brain flew into overdrive. "Goddess knows how she reached land so quickly, but logic suggests a straight line. Considering the direction of the winds of the storm, south is our most likely bet. We need to cover ground quickly, so you'll have to stay with the ship, Rarity. Celestia, see Rarity safely back to the Vigil and send a pair of flyers north, in case we've got the wrong direction. Then send those supplies to Dash and Spike. Luna, I think we'll need your help out there. I can't protect the three of us by myself. We'll need you to escort us south and clear us a safe path back to the airship once we've. . ." Her voice cracked apart a little. ". . .once we've found her."

Celestia's face oozed with globules of red light, making her concern look like something more self-serving and bitter. "My faithful student, I understand your pain. I truly do. However, putting yourself and the rest of your friends in harm's way is not. . ."

"We've been in 'harm's way' ever since we stepped hoof onto the train you sent for us!" Twilight shouted suddenly. She thought she saw flickers of black in her peripheral vision. "We've been in 'harm's way' since the day we found these stupid Elements!" She ripped the jeweled crown off her head and threw it to the dirt between them. "We're going. Either help us, or worry about keeping yourself out of 'harm's way'." Twilight turned eyes as hard as diamonds upon the other alicorn present. "Princess Luna. . ."

Sparing a sympathetic glance for her sister, Luna replied. "Of course. We shall scout for dangers ahead and defend thee 'gainst the lost creatures should they discover us."

Twilight turned back to her friends. "Pinkie, AJ, remember you have access to magic through your Elements. We might need it out there."

Pinkie nodded nervously, her blue eyes darting about as though she were trying to remember everything she'd learned all at once. Applejack deflated. "Oh, buck me." She sighed. Then she scanned around her until she spotted a thick branch, and she picked it up in her teeth, ready to use as a makeshift cudgel.

Twilight retrieved her Element and plopped it back on her head along with a poof of dirt. "I can teleport the three of us to the shore. Luna, you'll be flying, right?" In response, the alicorn spread her wings. "Okay, let's go."

The three ponies appeared in mid-air and dropped a short distance into cold, shallow surf. They were fortunate in that the tide wasn't high, but the exposed beach was narrow. The shifting sunlight looked like blood oozing over the thin skirt of bone-white sand. Twilight immediately lurched upright and flung herself towards the south, kicking up a spray of pale droplets with every stride. She spared one glance behind her, ensuring her friends were keeping pace. But then Twilight's world narrowed to the sea with its deepness, the land with its starkness, and the strip of beach like a tightrope above a swiftly tilting planet.

The shifting shadows to her left seemed to reach towards her, to whisper dark truths Twilight thought she could almost understand if she just let herself veer closer. It brushed against her mind, clawing and beckoning by turns. She fought the sensation, briefly wondering whether her friends felt the morbid pull too. Just as the thought flitted through her head, she heard Pinkie Pie shout behind her.

"AJ, no!" Twilight turned in time to see Pinkie pounce on Applejack's tail, jerking the farm mare to a stop just before they both hit the sand. "What are you doing? You shouldn't need Pinkie Sense to tell you that's dangerous."

"Ugh," Applejack spit the stick out of her mouth. "I ain't rightly sure. I just feel like there's a problem in there I ought to fix. Heh, guess that sounds mighty stupid now that I'm sayin' it out loud, don't it?"

Twilight helped her friend up. "No. I feel it too. It's offering me information, making me feel like there's something important I need to understand. It's preying on our personalities. But we can't listen, and we can't stop. Not here."

From out of the shadows of the cursed land, right next to the trio, a bloated tick the size of a melon dragged itself onto the sand, leaving a trail of ichor in its wake. With a yelp of surprise, Applejack snatched up her branch and batted the creature away. Yet more silhouettes moved behind the veil of darkness, and the sharp smell of ammonia wafted towards them. With a thought, Twilight shoved her friends backwards, placing herself between them and the threat.

Then, from over their shoulders, a fork of lightning struck inland scattering the vague shapes like chaff. Dirt and sand flung everywhere. "Do not tarry!" Luna's eyes shone with pale blue light. "We must move quickly!" Another burst of lightning split the air.

With the taste of ozone thick on her tongue Twilight wheeled, leading the charge south once again. She fled as much from her own recklessness as from the monstrous shapes. She knew she had no plan to bring them back to the island safely. She had led them into a death trap, and running would only prolong their lives. We'll be joining Fluttershy soon, wont we?

As Celestia's sun rose above the corrupted lands, the shifting and foreboding illumination became clean once again. Strong sunlight poured through the bridge windows, reflecting off of every metallic surface in a dazzling array of refracted beams. The whole airship still smelled of salt and seawater, but to Sun Shade it was still a clean smell, full of the promise of freedom. And as Thistle beside her moved down his improvised checklist, she watched as the dismay of the last forty-eight hours lifted from his features. Despite herself, Shade began to notice that the light and warmth of the sun began to feel a little bit like hope.

But then Thistle, sitting on his haunches, would lift a claw to scratch something else off the list, and she could see the tremors in his arm. The extra care he needed to make his claws do what he told them. And her exhausted brain would remember, and her hope would be dashed against the jagged rocks of reality.

A solid gryphon paced into the room, flat black feathers glossy in the sunlight. "Sir!" The edges of his salute were imprecise. "Servos are reconnected, and Skan says they're a go."

Thistle nodded. "Good, good. . ." He made another soft scratch. "At this rate, some of us may get a couple of hours sleep today."

The newcomer swayed a little in place at the mention of sleep. "Oh, and I checked in with Kelbrri in the hold. She says they only found minor leaks, and they're patching the last of them now."

"That's a relief." Thistle said. "With the cooling systems on line, that just leaves the turbine bearings. Huh."

"Wait," Sun Shade blinked, "That's it? I thought we initially agreed upon an estimated a repair time of days."

"Always guess low and aim high." Thistle's chest may have puffed out a bit. "When you have a crew as talented as mine. . . And, of course, you don't let them sleep, you can accomplish miracles." He looked as though he might start preening at any moment.

The black gryphon arched an eyebrow. "Suppose you'll be looking for your share of the glory, eh Captain?"

Thistle chaffed. "What? For standing around and barking orders in a crisis? I'll be taking all the glory, of course. That's history for you." He added matter-of-factly.

Sun Shade's eyes sparkled. "Don't go expecting a parade and an alabaster statue or anything. I simply wont allow a travesty of such magnitude to come to pass."

"Alabaster?" Thistle tisked. "I want my statue to be made out of iron and steel, complete with moving parts. Maybe with fire shooting out of my mouth. Come to think of it, those things would make for an excellent parade, too."

Sun Shade scoffed, "It would be a shame if the engineers 'mistakenly' aimed the fire out of the wrong end, wouldn't it?"

"I say, Miss Shade! Indeed!" Thistle sputtered. "I mean. . . I mean I really do say!"

The clatter of hoofsteps preceded Celestia's voice, an unusual note of urgency pervading her normally serene and regal tone. "Captain? Captain!"

Thistle's playful and stately offense drained away, leaving a hardened expression. "Your Highness?" He called out through the doorway.

Celestia appeared, her face lined with worry. Worry and fear. The same emotions darkened Rarity's face, the injured unicorn having been draped across the Princess's back. "We need to borrow two of your best fliers, and I must see Pin Feather about supplies. Now."

Footing was treacherous. Clumps and strands of seaweed formed gentle snares. The sand gave way just a little too much beneath Twilight's hooves, and the tiny waves that washed the shore just complicated the picture. But the fifth time she stumbled and plowed face-first into the wet sand, she was forced to admit something else was wrong. The numbness had spread too far up her foreleg. She couldn't really tell if it was doing what she told it to anymore. For the first time the ramifications hit her, and hit her hard. She was going to die. Probably today, if what Celestia had said was true.

She threw herself back into motion, glad that Princess Luna had flown ahead to scout. Twilight felt certain that Luna would instantly know what she was hiding. As she ran, she felt a panicky kind of sadness. A thready and desperate loss that seemed built completely out of regrets. The unlived years of her life loomed over her like a tidal wave, and every heart beat in her chest felt distinct and precious. Surely she was too young and had studied too hard to die like this, hadn't she?

Just as they reached a point where the shore began to curve away from the sea, suddenly Luna was in front of her, forcing Twilight to skid to a stop. "Halt a moment!" Luna called out.

Twilight's foreleg gave out as she tried to brake, and she tumbled to the sand yet again. The Princess had to leap nimbly out of the way from the tangled ball of purple limbs. Pinkie and Applejack both exchanged worried glances.

"Princess. . . Luna. . ." Pinkie gasped for breath, "What's wrong?"

"We must turn back." Luna said, her voice just a little unsteady. "'Tis unsafe to persist in this direction."

Twilight rubbed some of the sand from her eyes and brought them into focus. She felt a fresh stab of alarm. Luna's eyes were just a little too wide, and her breathing a little too heavy. Her wings twitched a bit at her sides. It was as panicked as she'd ever seen the Princess. "We can't turn back." Twilight said in a small voice, trembling in the sand. "I- We have to find her."

Applejack transferred her branch to a hoof and gestured with it back the way they came. "Uh, 'turn back' thataways?" She asked incredulously. The beach behind them was now scattered with vague, grey shapes. "That's the safer option now?"

Luna didn't waver. "We can swim. Between the pair of us, Twilight and I can. . ."

Twilight ignored her, choosing instead to resume her southward run. She wasn't afraid of danger. Not anymore. No, she was afraid of failure. The thought that she might never find Fluttershy, the thought that her friend's body might simply lay upon a beach along some Goddess-forsaken hellscape made her want to scream. In a flash, Luna appeared before her again, stopping her with a hoof. The Princess was surprisingly strong. "Twilight, please," Luna implored, "This is a mistake. You must turn aside."

Twilight lifted her numb hoof to bat Luna's arm away. "I'd rather die."

Luna snatched at Twilight's hoof and gasped in shock. Fear and sorrow chased themselves across Luna's timeless features. "Twilight Sparkle. . . art. . . art thou-"

A strange noise vibrated the air, interrupting the pair; a long, guttural, buzzing moan that seemed to shake the entire beach. Twilight felt the sound in her legs and chest. Whatever it was, it was big.

"What was that?" Pinkie stepped in close to Applejack's side, her hoof going protectively to her necklace. "Oh, I hate pinchy knee. . ."

Something hit the sand, emerging from the curve of the shore and the blackness of the curse ahead of them with an enormous whumpf. It was the size of a large horse, maybe bigger, and its body split down the middle of its doughy shapelessness, revealing shards of bone like broken plates and coiled piles of muscle the color of old blood. The smell of ammonia burned Twilight's nose and stung her eyes, making them water.

"Stars have mercy. . ." Applejack breathed.

Twilight had seen enough of horrors to last her several lifetimes. She wondered whether she would ever sleep peacefully again. Yet at the same time, she leaped around Luna and gathered her magic to her. Her sand-speckled horn burst into light, and she blasted the monstrosity before her with all her might.

The thing rocked back, having lost a sizable chunk of its. . . self. Gray and pink pus dripped out onto the beach as it writhed, its split body producing another bass-deep rumble that shook the air. Then another mass appeared next to the first, this one in the shape of a giant paw/hand tipped with long, straight claws. And Twilight realized she'd only seen the head of the beast as it began to drag itself fully into view. Twilight panted for breath, already winded, and she coughed on the acrid reek of the thing.

"Ware our backs, Twilight." Luna dug her hooves into the sand. "We must retreat."

The monster reared up off the sand, flopping another massive limb onto the beach and scraping a vast bulk of decaying flesh into view. What Twilight could now see was its mouth opened up again, and a long rope of what must have been tongue snaked out towards them, impossibly long. Luna's horn flashed, and she struck it out of the air with a scythe of magic.

"ABOMINATION!" Luna thundered. "GET THEE BACK TO TARTARUS!!"

Twilight turned, feeling like she might throw up. She'd clearly had no idea how deep trouble could get out here, and it hurt to leave Luna to deal with that colossal monster. But a glance showed Applejack and Pinkie Pie facing back the way they came, watching creatures of nightmare stagger towards them from the shadows. Princess Luna would likely survive, but the rest of them? I've led us into a trap. Twilight thought frantically, I just killed two of my best friends this morning.

NO! Twilight's face crumpled with rage. She wouldn't allow it. Flickers of black appeared around the edges of her horn, and her sandy and disheveled mane began to move in an unseen breeze.

Princess Celestia gazed out of the porthole at the calm ocean. She'd dispatched the two fliers Thistle had chosen some fifteen minutes ago, along with strict instructions to avoid anything that even remotely looked dangerous, and to search for any possible signs of Fluttershy.

Then she'd come down to the mess hall, where Pin feather had met her with a small vial of what he called 'spirit of hartshorn,' which should wake someone out of a dead faint. Along with a few other items she'd tracked down and a little more food and water, Celestia had cast the spell that disintegrated the items and sent them along the leylines of magic and into the world.

Thistle had been working tirelessly to bring Aether's Vigil up to flight capabilities. There was little left to do but wait. Celestia may have grown adept at waiting through the years, but she still didn't enjoy it. She was left with altogether too much to worry about. She would have rejoiced at some form of reply from Spike, but her thoughts were now with Twilight. If she lost her student now, Celestia knew she would likely lose hope as well.

A distant whine reached her ears, causing them to flick in surprise. She felt a thrumming in her hooves. The Vigil's engines were coming to life. She turned to trot towards the upper deck, knowing she would want to be out in the open when they found her sister and the others. She needed to ensure their safety. But a voice stopped her in her tracks. "Princess?" A young pegasus hurled himself into view. "Oh, your Highness! Come quick! We've found somepony!"

With a nod from Celestia, he turned and led her forward. "Who is it?" The Princess asked.

"We aren't sure." He replied. "He just asked to see you."

"Wait." Celestia drew up short. "Who on this side of the world do you not know?"

Cloud flicked a series of switches, twisted a thick metal grip and slowly raised a lever, bringing the airship back to life. The engines thrummed, displays lit up, and the airship began to lift out of the surf.

Thistle spread his arms out wide. "Gryphlets and gentilecolts, we have lift-off!"

Sun Shade smiled so broadly, her face started to hurt. She stomped her hooves in a somewhat-unladylike show of enthusiasm, and another pair of ponies did the same. The few crew members on the bridge, shift leaders for the last thirty hours of repair, cheered their success. Sun Shade may have wiped at the corner of an eye, but she hoped she was subtle enough that nobody noticed.

"My fellow aetherounauts and explorers," Thistle boomed, "You are undoubtedly the most talented group of engineers and techs on the planet!" More cheers followed this, along with some hoof-bumps and back-pats. "I need first shift at the helm and three volunteers for rescue ops, anyone who thinks they can still stand for a few more hours. The rest of you, have your crew get some hard earned shut-eye. Dream of what you're gonna spend your bits on when Celestia ponys up some serious overtime pay!" He rocketed his balled-up talons into the air for emphasis.

As most of the crew filed out of the hatch, Sun Shade glared at him through a smile. "Thistle Down, you. . . do you realize just how improper. . . oh, dash it all." She shook her lustrous black mane down into her face to hide her tears.

Thistle tilted her head up with a gentile digit. "What is it?" He asked warmly.

"Oh, it's so. . . so unheard of, I hardly. . . You're just so, so alive, and I've never told you just. . . just how. . ."

Thistle let out a small, kind laugh. "Well well, Miss Shade. I've never known you to misplace words. In fact, I don't think I've ever considered there might be a sentence in all of history you couldn't bend to your will."

His eyes sparkled with joy, but they still remained oblivious to her emotions. She smiled softly. "You beautiful fool." She sniffed. "For all your cleverness and intellect, you haven't the vaguest clue, do you?" She playfully swatted him on the chest. "You idiot, I love y. . ."

Sun Shade's words trailed off as she watched Thistle's pupils constrict in surprise just before he collapsed to the floor.

From the helm Cloud couldn't have heard their exchange, but she must have been keeping an eye on them. She snickered. Next to her, Kelbrri rolled her eyes. "O Captain! My Overly-Dramatic Captain. . ." She sighed.

Sun Shade, however, had to swallow panic before she found her voice. "Fetch Pin Feather." She said thinly.

"But-"

"NOW! THAT'S AN ORDER!" Shade snapped. The startled Kelbrri seemed to shake herself awake, and she flung herself out of the hatch. Cloud tore her gaze off of the airships course to glare her helplessness at the pair. She knew she couldn't abandon control of the airship, whatever else might be happening. In the meantime, Thistle had curled into a ball and clutched at his chest as though something was tearing apart inside him. His muscles twitched, and his face contorted with pain. Shade pounced to his side and gently cradled his head off of the hard floor.

"No. No, not like this." Shade was crying, but she didn't notice. "Listen to my voice and fight it! Don't you die on me Downs! Okay? You listen to my voice and you stay with me!"

The only replies were muffled mewls of pain that forced their way past his clamped beak.

"We've never seen him before in our lives. That might be why we don't know him." The pegasus likely would never have spoken to royalty like this under any other circumstances, but sleep deprivation could turn even the nicest pony snappish. "But he looks like you, so we came to get you."

"Looks like me how?"

"You know, the whole wings and a horn package?"

They emerged onto the deck into the bright glare of sunlight. The pegasus squinted his eyes almost shut. Celestia had no such trouble. She immediately spotted Skan, his black feathers stark against the light browns and tans of the figure slumped over his shoulder. They were making their way slowly towards the hatch while the airship lifted up into the sky.

She had intended to ask where the scouting crew had gone, assuming that they must have found this survivor living impossibly upon one of the nearby islands. She had intended to ask why the scouting crew wasn't here. But the abused and exhausted figure before her captured her mind and swept away all conscious thought. The tattered remnants of a cream and white mane framed a face as dear as life, and when he opened his mouth, a weak voice emerged from the lost depths of time. "Tia."

She gasped and recoiled, her hindquarters hitting the deck behind her. She brought a shaky hoof up to her suddenly dry mouth. "T-Teryn?"

He nodded, his horn bobbing up and down. He reached a hoof towards her. "My sister."

On the bridge Kelbrri had reappeared, followed by an agitated Pin Feather. He dropped a black bag he'd carried in his beak and gently moved Sun Shade out of the way. "You look like crap, sir." Pin said, his voice thick.

Thistle managed to hitch in enough breath to squeeze a couple words out. It sounded like, "Yeah. . . Thanks. . ."

After feeling for a pulse, Pin Feather began rummaging madly through his bag, coming up with a large syringe. Sun Shade sat back on her haunches, terrified. He pulled the protective cover off the tip, revealing an equally large needle. Sun Shade cringed. She hated needles, and she couldn't bear to watch one plunge into. . . Sun Shade thought she might be sick as Pin Feather placed a steadying claw on Thistle's chest and aimed right for his heart.

"Aw, Pins," Thistle forced out of his clamped beak. "That thing?"

"You're dying." Pin Feather said. "You don't get to ask questions now." He pulled his foreclaw back. Shade squeezed her eyes shut and waited.

"No." Celestia whispered. "You're dead."

He shook his head gently from side to side. "It's okay, sister. I thought I was too."

"What is this?" Celestia asked nobody in particular. She looked like she'd forgotten how to breathe.

"Wait," Skan said from underneath a brown wing. "So, do you know this guy, your Highness?"

"Oh." Teryn coughed weakly. "Are you royalty now? Hmm, of course you are. After all, now that we can live forever, it's only natural. . ."

Celestia's horn burst into light, and a shockwave of magic radiated outward in a glowing sphere. It swept uselessly over the cringing crew members, disturbing not a single feather or tuft of fur. Celestia's horn dimmed, and limping towards her was the same heartbreaking figure. Teryn offered his hoof once again. "I assure you, sister. It's not an illusion. It's me, your brother."

With a startlingly undignified cry, the Princess threw her arms around him, and they held each other beneath the clean sunlight.

Sun Shade felt a tingling sensation wash over her, as though some very powerful magic had been cast nearby and had swept her tail to nose. At the same moment she heard the sick thump of the needle being driven hard into flesh. She opened her eyes.

A massive, oily black insect with shiny, pupil-less eyes straddled Thistle Down. In it's deformed hoof it held the cardiac syringe buried to its hilt in the Captain's chest. Thistle, however, had a hold of that slick hoof, and he could do nothing but glare hatred and pain at the changeling crouched atop him. The creature's wings buzzed a bit atop its back as it's eyes widened in shock.

For a moment that stretched for eternity, everything froze. Sun Shade couldn't grasp the scope of the betrayal she'd just stumbled upon. Pin Feather? She thought, They got to Pin Feather?

With enormous effort, Thistle gasped out one word filled with accusation and hate. "You. . ."

Then the moment shattered.

21: Movement

Twilight Sparkle had read lots of books in her lifetime. Most of them were of the educational sort. Books about Equestrian history and philosophy and chemistry, social systems and economics, astronomy and physics, not to mention books on magic, from theory to application. But between these instructional tomes, Twilight was known to read the occasional adventure book. Or occasional adventure series, she might be quick to point out.

Twilight had noted that when things became dicey for many protagonists within these novels, the author would describe how time seemed to slow down, revealing each moment as clear and distinct from the last. This odd mechanic cropped up often enough that Twilight had given it serious credence and had, in the back of her mind, secretly hoped to experience what she might refer to as Perceptual Crisis-Based Temporal Dilation and thoroughly document the phenomena.

Now that things had progressed far beyond merely 'dicey,' the detached and rational corner of Twilight's mind was disappointed to find that time hadn't slowed one bit. It was apparent that precious few adventure novelists actually did their research.

Twilight tried not to look back as she led her three friends north, away from where she was certain Fluttershy still lay. But staying focused was made difficult by the detonations and concussions shaking the ground from behind them. Luna's booming voice and the broken bellows from the colossus she fought made Twilight flinch with fear.

Her focus became easier when they reached the first wave of rotting figures dragging themselves towards them. Without slowing her trot, Twilight's horn burst into light, and the first few creatures were lifted up and flung back into the darkness. They were quickly followed by another cluster, and another. But she wasn't fast enough, and her trot became a walk, and then stopped entirely as more creatures closed in, drawn by their presence like moths to light.

When Twilight was forced to take her first step back, Applejack leapt in front of her, swinging her branch like a golf club. "Ret me take a frw of deshe!" She mumbled from around the edges of her cudgel as she sent more creatures flying.

Pinkie Pie's face had been scrunched up in serious thought since they'd started running. Before too long her pendant lit with a dim glow, and a bubble of blue light formed around her. "Hey! I made a thingy!" She reported, her voice muffled by the shield. It immediately flickered out. "Oh, drat."

Some fat, flightless bird flopped too close to Applejack's rear hooves, and Twilight turned the force of her fears and angers upon it, releasing a more deadly spell in a shower of white and black sparks. The creature vanished in a puff of smoke, and the smell of burnt flesh hit Twilight's nostrils. Applejack shot her an alarmed glance but didn't cease her attack. Twilight tasted bile, and she felt like her stomach might try crawling out of her mouth, but there was no time to contemplate her choices. She broadened her scope and aimed carefully past Applejack's shoulder.

As the farm mare swept the legs out from some vague jungle cat and sent it flying back into its neighbors with a pair of well-timed strikes, she noticed a worm thick as a hawser threading through the sand, and she leapt away, spinning in midair and rolling back through the surf before it could touch her. By the time she'd regained her hooves, Twilight fired her spell, and a swath of sand exploded outward, disintegrating everything caught in the blast and flinging nearby creatures backward, buying them a few precious moments.

"Woah. . ." Pinkie breathed.

Applejack relaxed from her combat stance, her ponytail dripping seawater. From the expression on her face, it looked like she agreed. She glanced behind them to check on the fight back there, and Twilight reflexively did the same.

Meanwhile, Princess Luna fought for their lives. These blasted creatures just didn't seem easily phased by magic. Difficult to lift with force, immune to arcane sigils, resistant to transmutation attempts, and so forth. It's as though their leprous skins had been saturated with. . . something. Something resistant to magic, anyhow. At least lightning strikes seemed to get its attention, even it they didn't slow it down much.

Luna conjured a couple of bolts of lightning and took to the wing in an attempt to draw the megalith away from the retreating ponies. She'd hoped to turn it around, maybe lead it out to sea, yet when its head turned too far it just tenaciously swiveled back towards Twilight and her friends. It's bulk emerged from the layered shadows of the cursed lands, stretched across the thin strip of beach and protruded a fair distance into the ocean. It was like a living avalanche made out of toxic carcasses rumbling along in slow motion.

As Luna banked around to get its attention again, she spotted its long, thin tongue snaking out towards its closest meal. And Pinkie Pie, facing the other way, couldn't possibly have seen it coming. In desperation, Luna drew up her power and pulled back her hooves. But just before she cast her spell, she saw Pinkie's front leg twitch, and the pink pony scrambled away from the danger without even a backwards glance. Amazing.

Luna cast her spell anyway. She shoved her hooves forward, and her magic slammed the beasts head into the ground with brute force. It's soft skull deformed under the impact, absorbing the blow, and its tongue rolled back into its head. In irritation, it swept a paw the size of a wagon through the air, as though it could bat Luna's spell away like a fly, and the paw crashed down close to where Twilight and Applejack had stopped, unable to advance against the tide of nightmarish creatures gathered before them.

This wasn't working. Luna tucked her wings and pulled into a dive, conjuring small balls of fire and flicking them towards the misshapen head of the beast. The potential for collateral damage was too great for her to use fire on a large scale. She'd seen first-hoof what happened when fire spells grew out of control. Unfortunately, the beast's moist skin seemed reluctant to burn, and the monster managed to shrug off fire as well as it shrugged off her lightning. Luna swept in for a landing in front of the thing, determined to keep it from catching her subjects. Somehow.

Luna conjured up a solid velvet-black wall of magic as the monstrosity crawled forward again. She grounded it deep within the bedrock below her, steeling herself for impact. Until a giant paw collided with her construct, and a sharp pain shot down Luna's horn and into her skull. Her vision swam, but the Princess of the Night would never have let a tiny thing like pain distract her. As she blinked her eyes clear, she noted the massive cracks that already ran through her defense. She melded them with her mind, willing the magic to flow straight again, but the next impact came too soon and Luna felt it like a blow as her defenses gave way.

Her wall crumpled beneath the weight of the beast and a ponderous claw blotted out the sky above. So Luna flung herself sideways, conjuring thick black chains out of thin air as she tumbled. The chains wrapped around the creature's wrist and tangled its paw. With a twitch of her horn, Luna did the same to its other claw. When it lifted that claw to crawl forward, a whispered word from the alicorn brought that paw crashing back to the ground as the chains became heavier.

It had no eyes that Luna could see, but all the same the creature seemed to glance at its paw in frustration. But then, with a sound like boulders grinding together, it scraped it body forward as far as it could and turned its jaws sideways to snap Luna up in its horrible mouth. It slammed its teeth together with a deafening crack, but Luna had teleported upwards, out of harms way. Having bought herself a moment, she glanced backwards to see if anyone else yet lived.

When the mountainous deformity slammed its claws down, the concussion shook the ground and a shockwave knocked Twilight off her hooves. She tumbled through the sand, sprawling at the feet of what might have been a reindeer if its soft, drooping antlers hadn't framed a pair of dead black orbs. In a panic, Twilight fired off another spell, pouring her waning strength into another mixture of telekinesis and heat.

The energy exploded close to her face, dispersing against a sky-blue dome of force that suddenly separated her from the creature. Twilight gasped and flinched away from the backlash. Her ears rang, her throat felt parched and raw from the air she'd inhaled, and she was certain her eyebrows had singed. "Gah! Pinkie!" She choked out.

"Oh! Sorry!" Pinkie's shield immediately disappeared. "It's all I know how to do!"

Now there was, once again, nothing between her and the monster. It lurched towards her. "Wait wait wait!" Twilight scrabbled backwards, her hooves failing to find purchase in the sand. It took another lurching step, and Twilight had to jerk her hind leg up to her chin to keep it from touching her. It loomed over her, framed by the cerulean sky, and Twilight readied another spell in the last moment afforded to her.

Until her next breath, thick with the stench of gangrene and ammonia, sent her into a coughing fit. It felt like it burned her throat, and it broke her concentration. In plain desperation, she reached out her numb hoof to try and hold the beast at bay.

Through watering eyes, she saw a shape spin into view, pivoting on front hooves. She saw a flash of emerald eyes beneath a straw-colored mane before Applejack's sturdy branch launched the thing through the air with a loud, wet crunch of impact.

Twilight kept pushing herself backwards through the sand, her coughing fit making it hard to stand. That is, until a pink pair of hooves slid under her shoulders and hauled her upright. "I'm so sorry, Twilight!" Pinkie's voice pleaded right by her ear, but she sounded distant beneath the dull ringing sound. "I honestly don't know what I'm doing!"

Applejack fought a hopeless battle, losing ground with every swing of her head and pivot of her shoulders. Twilight's lungs felt like they were on fire, and her body convulsed with the effort of trying to suppress her coughing. These destructive spells were taking their toll on her, and the beach seemed to stretch on for miles. Looking up, there were easily more than twice the number of creatures clustering towards them then there were a minute ago. Come on, Twilight! She thought as she struggled for breath. You have to think of something!

She heard Applejack cry out in pain, and in a flash Twilight found her own breathing easier to control. With a thought she cast a teleportation spell, and Applejack tumbled right out of the sky and landed on Pinkie in a tangle of legs and manes. A swift, dark shape flicked above, but Twilight had no attention to spare for the Princess of the Night. She was mesmerized by the slow drip of blood down Applejack's fetlock.

Seeing the behemoth immobilized, Princess Luna swept her wings back and launched herself towards the others. She swooped in just above Twilight and Pinkie, folding her wings and landing lightly on the sand. As she did, the valiant farm mare disappeared in a violet bubble of light, leaving a mass of creatures to pour into the space she'd been a moment before. Luna nodded her approval. Twilight had surely recalled her friend to her side with a spell.

Luna called over her shoulder without looking. "Ward thyselves!" Then her mane began to ripple upward, and her eyes lit with fierce determination. Without looking to see if she was obeyed, Luna touched the tip of her horn to the sand before her, and then swept her head skyward. As she did, large swaths of sand rose into spikes between her and the shambling horde of misshapen creatures.

While she held that spell she cast another, projecting a wave of intense heat from the tip of her horn. No actual fire bloomed, but the world before Luna shimmered, distorted by heat. Pasty, sick flesh on the far side of Luna's barrier blackened and flaked, but the ground itself was her target. The layers of white sand boiled and sizzled, fuzing into large spikes of dirty black glass.

Luna swept her spell left and right, encasing her side of the beach in a broad semi-circle of spines. The grey swarm pressed forward mindlessly, grasping and reaching and oozing, but the glass stopped them. Luna knew they would make their way around the edges, or pile atop one another to scale her obstruction if given enough time. Luna hoped they'd all be far away by then. She took a brief moment to watch, ensuring her defenses were working as she'd hoped.

A deafening crash caused Luna to snap her head around. In the space where three ponies were a moment ago, there was nothing but an enormous, doughy paw tipped with sharp claws, still bound in Luna's weighted chains.

Luna's heart leapt into her throat.

From atop Pinkie Pie's back, Applejack poked at a wound halfway up her foreleg where a chunk of her coat and skin had been peeled away. She had a worried look in her eyes.

"Applejack, no. . ." Twilight murmured. "Not you too. . ."

The earth pony's expression flew from worried to alarmed. She dropped her branch to the sand, stretching her jaw before shooting back an accusation. "Whaddaya mean, not me too? Twi, you ain't been. . ."

Pinkie Pie couldn't see the exchange happening above her, but she did see Applejack's weapon hit the sand and crumble into splinters and sawdust. "Hey!" She said, brightening. "AJ! Your sticky broke! You must have been using some kind of magic to hold it together!"

That seemed to catch Applejack's attention for a moment. "I. . . I what?"

The beach rumbled beneath them, and waves of sand shot upward into vicious-looking rows of spikes. Twilight immediately sighed. And she'll melt them into glass. Ah, why didn't I think of that? Princess Luna was remarkable at thinking on her hooves in a dangerous situation. She was calm, smart, and dangerous. Not to mention graceful under pressure. Perhaps it was the strain of the last few days, or possibly delirium, but Twilight found herself wondering why she'd never looked up to Princess Luna as a role model before today.

But then something occluded the sun, a thick shadow of some sort. Twilight glanced up in time to see a vast, gnarled claw poised above her friends. She barely had time to note the cobalt chains tangled about it, adding tremendous weight to the already giant appendage, no doubt Luna's make. Twilight gathered her magic for a teleport spell, but the world ended before she could cast it.

A concussion, and the very firmaments trembled.

Twilight was certain that she was dead. Well and truly certain. So imagine her surprise to find she was still breathing. She heard nothing but a vague ringing, and although she was certain she'd pried her eyes open, there was nothing to see. Where in Tartarus was she?

No, that wasn't true. There was a soft blue glow surrounding her, and beyond that. . . was that rock? "Twilight. . ." It was a tremulous voice just behind her ear, a dear voice offered to the dark like an unwilling sacrifice. Pinkie Pie. "That hurt way more than I thought it would." Her voice was thin, as though she was close to losing consciousness.

Applejack was faster, having slung her uninjured foreleg over her friend. "That was some mighty quick thinkin' Pinkie. You sure saved our sorry hides."

Glancing up, Twilight could faintly see the monster's palm, all fungus and open sores and criss-crossed with chain still hovering above them, surrounded by a ring of sand. Pinkie's shield had held together, despite being driven into bedrock. And it hadn't even cracked!

Applejack suddenly sounded nervous. "Now hold on there sugar pie! You stay with us! Don't you go aaaaaand she's gone." Twilight craned her neck around to see Pinkie's eyes roll back into her skull, and the light surrounding them went out.

Piles of sand and pulverized rock sprinkled down atop them, and it sounded like the rocks surrounding them were shifting, no longer supported by anything. Twilight squeezed her eyes shut against the falling sand. "AJ, Give me a long ten count, then get Pinkie back to the ship, whatever it takes. I'll try to help Princess Luna."

"Sure Twi." Applejack breathed, herself just a ghostly shadow in the darkness.

Twilight shook the sand and dirt out of her eyes and squinted upwards. Her horn began to glow. This creature couldn't be any bigger than an Ursa Minor, could it? She'd haul this thing off of them with brute force if she had to. With an effort of will, she. . . and it vanished, leaving bright sunlight pouring like a river into their hole in the ground. Twilight squinted hard against the painful glare, but she clambered out of the hole.

To one side, Princess Luna had her hooves braced deep in the sand. Her horn was wreathed in multiple cocoons of light, and her eyes shone like unnaturally bright spotlights. Behind her, a few pale grey creatures writhed past the first bank of glass spikes, but there were another pair of rows in Luna's defenses. To Twilight's other side, the megalith was being shoved forcibly out to sea, but it wasn't going quietly. It clawed and clutched at the shore, roaring its frustration to the sky, pounding the sand and shoving sea water away from its bulk in massive waves as it fought.

As Twilight set herself to help, the creature's tongue lashed out towards its closest target, the small purple unicorn. Yet it did not catch Twilight unprepared. With a burst of telekinesis, Twilight swept the air in front of her into a scythe, and the ripple of air and magic neatly severed the thin, pink tongue before it reached her.

Before she could join the Princess against the oversized dough-corpse, however, she noticed more movement in her peripheral vision. The colossus had been blocking a sizable portion of the beach, and now that it was being forced into the ocean more creatures staggered into view from the south. Twilight charged ahead, flinging the creatures away with as little force as she could manage. Gah, these things are exhausting!

Once she'd cleared a little space, she tried mimicking Luna's spell, lifting a barrier of sand up in front of her, matching Luna's spikes from where they left off. She slowed her breathing, summoned a heat spell to mind, and felt her will drain away as her eyes focused on a form beyond the sand.

The creature staggering towards her on four legs was a pony with a dull yellow coat and a blank expression. Two wings dragged lifelessly in the sand on either side of her, and her sea-green eyes focused on nothing. An ornate gold choker-style necklace sagged meaninglessly off her neck. She moved like a derelict, limping brokenly through the light of day like a harbinger of death.

Twilight's spell failed, and the sand collapsed into dunes around her.

Sun Shade needed one extra second to grasp the loss and anger rising up inside her. Pin Feather had been one of the first crew members recruited for Celestia's secret endeavor. He had been Thistle's closest friend for over thirty years, and he had been one of Sun Shade's closest friends, too. If he were dead, or rotting in some changeling hive somewhere. . .

When the moment shattered Kelbrri recovered first, throwing herself upon the sudden changeling in their midst. Cloud, despite her shock, kept the flight controls steady. And Shade, for her part, hesitated. She needed a second. A breath. Something to absorb the tragedy laid out before her.

Besides, the changeling was caught anyhow. Thistle's adrenaline-induced seizure had locked his foreclaws around Pin Feath. . . the changeling's hooves, and Kelbrri was closing in on its back. Once they'd chained the spy to something, she was going to find out what happened to the real Pin Feather. And she would get the truth whatever the cost. Those soulless eyes would receive no mercy from her.

It happened so quickly, Sun Shade almost didn't believe what her eyes were telling her. The changeling stopped Kelbrri's charge with a kick of its hind hoof. There was a snapping sound, and despite her larger mass, Kelbrri dropped to the floor like a discarded doll, still grappling for the leg that had kicked her.

With a deft twist, the imposter freed a front hoof from the Captain's numb grip and drove it into his beak. With the other hoof, the changeling ripped the giant needle out of Thistle's chest and spun, slamming it into Kelbrri's shoulder and she fell back with a cry of pain and surprise. Freed, the traitor dashed towards the open doorway.

Sun Shade may have needed a moment, but she could live without one. And she was glad she'd thought ahead, for she had flung herself towards the doorway rather than the slimy insect. Shade reached the hatch first and she slammed it closed, allowing it to latch just as the changeling tossed her aside.

Shade was ready, and she used the momentum of her tumble to slide her parasol off her shoulder and raise it up, sighting down one of the ribs once she'd rolled upright. With a small phut sound she fired a numbing dart, hoping to hit something soft.

Pin Fea. . . the changeling was too fast for her, leaping nimbly backwards as the door unlatched. Of course. Pin F. . . the changeling would know exactly what she, and her weaponized umbrella, would be capable of. Wouldn't it?

It kept its eyes locked on her parasol, trying to anticipate her next shot, but it spared a tiny, frustrated glance towards the cracked door. Shade felt a prickly chill crawl down her spine. If that thing could escape and impersonate another crew member, goddesses alone knew what harm it might be capable of before they found it again. Shade was not about to let that happen.

Kelbrri may have been injured, and Thistle was certainly in no shape to move, but they weren't the only ones in the room. Clouded Gaze moved a pair of levers and the airship banked, enough to slam the door shut again. The changeling, spreading its wings to stay balanced, hissed in annoyance. Sun Shade grinned triumphantly. "Lay down on the floor!" She said, still holding her aim steady. Her voice rang with authority. "Or I will put you down!"

The changeling smiled back. A sad, almost condescending smile. In a flash of intuition, Shade launched another dart, but there was a flash of green light, and the dart whizzed straight as an arrow to clink harmlessly off the far wall.

The changeling had vanished.

"Sister, this transport is magnificent," Teryn looked about the upper deck of the airship ponderously, as though his neck was too tired to support his head. "But where do we head in such haste?"

Celestia barely heard him. Her mind was simply too busy studying him. His short mane held notes of rich, loamy browns which faded to black, and other light browns which faded to white. His sharp, moss-green eyes and his precise smile, the texture of his voice. . . he was almost exactly as she remembered him last, down to the subtle 'v' markings on each of his feathers. How he managed to survive in this accursed wasteland for nine millennia was a complete mystery.

Celestia had to force her brain to consider his question, rather than simply absorb the details of his reality. "Oh, yes. You see, I have subjects who have accompanied me to this place, but we have lost a few of our number in a terrible storm. Some of my friends are searching for one of them, and. . ." Celestia was well aware how this next bit of information might be received. "Luna is with them."

Teryn gasped, and his eyes welled with tears. "Oh, to see you both together on the same blessed day." His joyful smile was enough to cut straight through to Celestia's heart. He threw another hug around his big sister. "I knew that you'd find me, if I just held out hope."

Skan, looking on, wiped a empathetic tear out of one eye. He leaned in to the pegasus crew member on his left. "Oh Pearl, I do love emotional reunions. . ."

The pony elbowed the gryphon in the ribs. "Get a hold of yourself. You're always such a pansy."

A sudden course correction caught the crew members off guard. The pegasus spoke up. "Um, Princess, should we maybe check in with the bridge?"

It looked like Celestia was drifting through a dream. "Hmmm? Oh yes, of course." It was clear her attention would be elsewhere for awhile.

Pearl rolled her eyes and dragged Skan off the bridge by a wing. "C'mon ya lug. Let's make sure Cloud hasn't blown a gasket or something."

Fluttershy. . .

Twilight's brain refused to work. The entire world spun around her, moving to the beat of her heart. She could feel her pulse shaking her tiny frame, making her chest jump and her temples throb. Her vision narrowed, darkness creeping in until she was looking down a black tube at a world that had lost all meaning to her.

Fluttershy had become one with the shambling mass of creatures too cursed to die, and in one stroke Twilight had utterly lost the will to fight, to strive for her own survival. Despair had wrapped its cold tendrils about her throat, and her soul had become as numb and lifeless as her foreleg. Fluttershy had boarded a train in Ponyville, trusting in her friends and trusting in her Princess. And she had died horribly, all alone upon the shores of hell.

The only thing Twilight wanted anymore was to join her.

As the forlorn image of Fluttershy lurched closer and closer, Twilight just sat in shock and waited for the end to come. Instead, for the second time in five minutes, she watched as Applejack flashed past her. In that moment, the strangest thing happened. Time seemed to slow down to a crawl.

Every glint and facet of clean sunlight refracting off the shifting waves became as distinct as a shard of glass. Every grain of sand kicked up by Applejack's charge arced lazily through the air. The mix of fear and sorrow in the farm mare's streaming eyes were as plain as words on a page to Twilight, and she had all the time in the world to study it.

Applejack twisted, planting her front hooves in the sand between Twilight and Fluttershy's animated corpse. Her body pivoted, all practiced grace and coiled power. Her blond mane and tail spun with her in broad, straw-colored scythes as she glanced over her shoulder, aiming the vicious blow she was about to deliver with her hind hooves.

In that stunned stillness, in that elastic second of time which seemed to stretch on for minutes, Twilight saw Fluttershy's eyes. They were still whole, still beautiful, and as they struggled into focus they met Twilight's gaze.

There was life behind them.

In a flash of intuition Twilight remembered a cave. A cave where she had gone to sleep injured, and had awoken mysteriously whole. She'd awoken curled next to Rainbow Dash, yes, but Fluttershy had been curled around her. And Princess Celestia's grievous injuries, mended so miraculously over night? Sure, Fluttershy had left, but she had slept there next to the alicorn. Slept and somehow fuzed bones, mended capillaries, and goddess knows what else. None of it was possible. None of it should have been remotely possible without causing more harm.

Yet, Twilight wondered as her mind blazed from one revelation to the next. Is that any more or less impossible than Pinkie's weirdly accurate predictions? Or Applejack suddenly being able to hear the truth? If any soul in existence had the subtlety and grace to use magic with such precision, maybe it was her. Perhaps 'impossible' might simply translate into 'hasn't been done yet.'

Unfortunately, Applejack was clearly convinced that Fluttershy had been changed, and she was one instant away from making a terrible mistake. And Twilight discovered to her dismay that just because time felt like it was crawling by, that didn't mean that she moved any faster. She felt sluggish, her muscles unable to keep pace with her racing mind.

She had barely opened her mouth to shout a warning when a sick crunch reached her ears and Fluttershy's body was flung backwards, tumbling through the sand. She came to rest sprawled halfway across the borderline between shore and cursed shadows, the black tendrils twining about her still form.

Twilight lifted a heavy hoof in a futile gesture, reaching towards the pegasus as though she might somehow take back the violence she'd just witnessed. But, despite all her attention being trained upon her friend's broken form, Twilight's eyes focused on something much closer to her. Against her will, she noticed something clinging to her foreleg. It was some kind of large, segmented insect with a slick, grey body. Its many legs rippled smoothly, easily touching both sides of her leg at once, and in the wake of their touch Twilight's fur singed and her skin peeled away. Her eyes almost crossed trying to stare as it flowed up her arm and burrowed its pincers into her shoulder.

She didn't feel a thing.

22: Still Life

At the sight of the soft insect clinging to her, Twilight whimpered in visceral terror. Her horn lit with a lavender glow, and she channeled a telekinesis spell. It was the same spell she'd used a thousand times before, and she knew it by heart. An answering glow lit up around. . . Fluttershy, and Twilight used her magic to drag her friend back onto the sand. Somehow, in that moment, the revolting centipede tearing at her flesh was less important than Fluttershy's safety.

But Applejack was in danger too. She hadn't left Twilight's side, and she was busy protecting her friend by throwing creatures aside with her bare hooves. She spun, she kicked, she flung herself back and forth, and she swept her enemies aside with prodigious strength. The orange gem at her throat was faintly aglow, and her hooves had already become bloody messes. Speckles of red dotted the sand all around her.

Twilight had dragged Fluttershy most of the way back to them when Applejack threw her a glance, gasped and tackled Twilight into the surf. She did her best to grasp the centipede behind its head and she tried to pull it backwards. But all the blood made getting a grip on it impossible, and Applejack's hooves had gone entirely numb anyhow. Although she fumbled and cursed and sobbed, she couldn't pull the thing's pincers out of Twilight's arm no matter how hard she tried.

Twilight felt the numbness spreading though her chest, but she didn't feel alarmed. She actually felt at peace. Despite the sharp smell of burnt fur and coppery blood, this spot on the beach was nice. The ocean water was crisp and cool as it gently lapped at the top of her head. The sun was bright and beautiful. There wasn't even a cloud in the sky. And Applejack was there, the most hardworking and dependable pony Twilight had ever met. Things really weren't so bad. It's funny, She thought, This might be the most beautiful place in the world to die.

Then Applejack was gone, replaced by a soft pink mane and a bright yellow face. Fluttershy picked something off of Twilight's shoulder and then laid a hoof on her chest and the world was gone.

Her cry of alarm echoed soundlessly through the emptiness between stars. She tumbled without momentum, and without direction. Just a vague sense that nothing sped past her in every direction.

Then she found herself standing in a familiar field of wildflowers beneath a bright sun. Twilight herself was in a great deal of pain. She felt as though acid or fire had been splashed over one side of her body. Yet, for some reason, the pain was a distant thing, too far away to really matter. It just felt less immediate than the flowers bowing gently to her in the breeze, or the solid mountains presiding over the hazy horizon. She felt the tension ease from her shoulders as her soul discovered a measure of surcease in the tranquil glade. She also felt that she wasn't alone. Twilight turned, a warm smile already tugging at the corners of her mouth.

A young filly stood behind her, a butter-yellow pegasus peeking out from behind a lanky pink mane. She was gangly and thin, but Twilight could see hints of the graceful and pretty mare she would become. And the sunlight seemed to wreath the young foal in a faint nimbus of glowing light. "Fluttershy." Twilight said, her voice suffused with warmth.

The filly smiled sadly, her voice and words far older than her years. "You're lost, aren't you?" She asked, even though she wasn't expecting an answer. "You've strayed far from the path Celestia laid out for you, and now you're lost. Just like Luna was." Twilight felt the sting of shame, and her face flushed before the innocent child. She hadn't forgotten Fluttershy's accusations back aboard the Vigil, nor how accurate they were.

The filly flipped her mane out of the way and stepped forward, catching Twilight's fallen gaze with her own. Young Fluttershy's expression radiated compassion, not condemnation. "It's okay," She said in a voice both soft and melodic. "We still love you, you know. Even if violence is the only answer you can find. We are still your friends."

With that the filly reached out a comforting hoof and touched it to Twilight's shoulder. Immediately the pain began to fade. That touch was a cool balm, spreading through her soul as much as her body. Twilight hadn't realized just how badly she'd needed some form of comfort, some kind of release. And she'd been too busy shouldering all of the responsibility and all of the blame to even realize she needed it. As the pain eased, Twilight figured there was another letter to write about friendship and forgiveness somewhere in there.

Twilight wanted to put it into words. She wanted to scoop the filly into her arms and hold her, maybe tell her one of the thousand or so things her heart wanted to say. But the glade and the mountains and the sun were fading, blown to dust and mist. Even the filly before her, all sea-green eyes and potential, evaporated into nothingness. But as Twilight drifted through the void once again, this time she was awash with a sense of peace.

Twilight awoke to a stillness she hadn't been prepared for. The sea still lapped gently against the shore, but the sound was distant, and there was little else to break the calm. Except Princess Luna. "Twilight Sparkle, art thou well?" Luna had Twilight's head cradled off of the sand, and the care in her words matched the concern in her eyes. Behind her horn, Luna's mane wavered and flowed, looking for all the world like a portal into the night sky.

Twilight smiled. "Yes." She assured the Princess. Then she felt her arms and her hooves. Feeling had returned to her limbs! She wasn't numb anymore! A relieved laugh bubbled out of her. "Yes, I think I am. Where is everypony?"

Luna's return smile was tight-lipped. "We are all here, and we are all alive, for the moment."

Twilight sat up and looked around, her eyes focusing. She and Luna sat in a circle of sand. A couple of pony-lengths away, Fluttershy crouched above an unconscious Applejack, her hooves upon the earth pony's chest. Fluttershy looked beyond awful. Her coat was pale and almost colorless. She looked emaciated, like she hadn't eaten in weeks. Her ribs were prominent and her eyes sunken and hollow. It was little wonder they had immediately assumed the worst when they first glimpsed her.

But her pink mane had been tied back into a ponytail with seaweed, and when she opened them, her sallow eyes were hard with determination. She looked like a pony who had been through every level of Tartarus, and was ready to go back at a moment's notice without flinching. She looked strong. Twilight was so happy to see her, she felt like she might cry.

Near them, Pinkie Pie glanced around wildly, her ears twitching and her hooves trembling. She was maintaining her shield spell around the five of them. A glance of her own showed Twilight why she looked so frightened.

Waves of vile abominations pressed themselves against the edges of the shield. In every direction teeth bit, claws scratched, limbs scuttled and dead eyes stared. They piled atop one another, a few of the more insectile creatures scaling the sides, until very little of the world around them was still visible. Only Pinkie's one spell she'd learned kept them all from dying together, crushed beneath the putrid tide. And only Pinkie's focus maintained it. The slightest waver in her concentration would probably kill them all.

Celebrating Fluttershy's return would have to wait.

Sun Shade kept her aim steady as she slowly swept her eyes around the bridge. The traitor must have thrown up a veil, an advanced magic trick she had only seen once before. But Shade knew that no veil was perfect. She should be able to detect some kind of movement if she just let her eyes relax. A shimmer maybe, or some kind of distortion. She side-stepped towards the closed door. She had to keep the changeling contained with them.

"You. . . bastard. . ." Thistle muttered through a clenched beak from his position on the floor. The rest of whatever he was trying to say was lost in an indecipherable growl.

Shade's heart grew light and fluttery. Thistle Down was on death's doorstep, and she had to waste these precious last moments on a bug hunt? It was criminally unfair. She blinked a tear free; she needed her vision to be as clear as possible.

When she neared the door, Shade suddenly swept her weighted parasol in an arc, allowing the weapon to extend as she did so. She didn't expect an impact, but she was hoping for one. As it whistled through the empty air she tucked and rolled, popping up next to the door itself. With a twitch she retracted the umbrella and pressed her flank against the hatch, trying to aim her weapon at the whole room at once.

Kelbrri limped around the room, swiping her claws through the air every few steps, snarling curses under her breath. Cloud ducked her head and braced her legs, but she didn't abandon her post at the helm. Shade slowed her breathing and waited.

She didn't have to wait long. From the floor Thistle gasped and struggled, his muscles starting to seize. Shade aimed at the air above him and fired. But even as she hit the trigger, she knew it would miss. Thistle's condition had simply gotten worse, and the changeling had been waiting for that very moment to strike. So Shade wasn't as surprised as she should have been to catch a blurring in the corner of her eye just as a battering ram hit her in the chest.

As she took the hit, instinct swept Shade's hoof in a warding gesture by her face, and by luck she neatly deflected a blow aimed at her temple. She followed with her other hoof in a swing that had her weight behind it, but her unseen attacker caught it easily. Undaunted, Shade lunged forward, aiming a vicious headbutt at the blur in front of her. She felt the creature's sharp horn cut the very top of her head as her forehead connected with a sharp crack, and the changeling staggered backwards.

Its veil wavered and dropped as Shade spun, swinging her parasol at the changeling's head. It braced an arm expertly to absorb the impact, but the heavy weapon still spun the creature around, right into Kelbrri's reach. The gryphon engaged with no reservation, attacking like a berzerker with raking claws. But the traitor was just a little too fast for her in her wounded state, and it ducked beneath her attack and tackled her to the floor.

In a flash of green light, there were suddenly two Kelbrris tumbling about and fighting. They had identical markings and identical injuries, and they fought with the same snarls of hate. Sun Shade couldn't tell them apart.

With a snort of frustration and an annoyed flick of her ears, she braced her parasol against her shoulder. She wiped a trickle of blood out of her eyes and took the shot. The dart buried itself in a ruff of neck feathers, and with a gasp of surprise one of the combatants keeled over, already in a deep sleep. The other Kelbrri shoved the comatose one off of her and stood shakily. "Nice shot." The gryphon remarked, still panting for breath.

Shade adjusted her aim and hit the trigger again, wanting to take no chances. Her weapon emitted another little phut sound, but nothing came out. She'd fired every shot she had. Kelbrri made a clumsy warding gesture, as though she might knock the dart out of the air before it hit her. "Woah, easy!" She exclaimed. "I'm rright here! I'm not going anywherre!"

Shade made another frustrated sound. "I can't know its you, now can I?" With a practiced flip, she tossed her umbrella over to hold it by the tip, priming it to dispense a corrosive mist out of the tips of the parasol's ribs. It was dangerous in a confined space, but what choice did she have? She glanced around the room, looking for some kind of restraint she could use.

"Oh, believe me, I get it." Kelbrri agreed wholeheartedly. "So, what should we do now? Just tell me what to do and I'll do it."

Shade sidled up to a coil of thick wire. She picked it up and threw it at the gryphon's feet. "Tie yourself to the rail there, next to Cloud. Then we'll go from there."

"Surre." Kelbrri hesitated, wondering how best to tie herself up. She settled for lining up a hind leg with the railing, and lashing the wire around them both, crossing itself for stability. She tied a deft knot and then gestured. "Like that?"

Shade shouldered her parasol with a sigh. The knot looked sturdy enough. She crossed the room and picked up one of the discarded darts she'd fired during the fight. "I'm sorry Kelbrri," She approached the colorful gryphon holding the projectile in her teeth.

"No, it's fine." The gryphon held out an arm, cringing and looking the other way. "I hate needles, but, I don't know, just get it overr with."

Shade didn't hesitate. She took the dart and drove it into the gryphon's forearm. At least, she should have. Instead, the arm twisted out of the way, grabbed her wrist and snapped it out of joint. Then a magical blast sent Sun Shade flying backwards to slam into the far wall.

Shade's head rang, and her muscles felt limp and lifeless, but she shook her vision clear in time to see Kelbrri turn and slam her dart into Cloud's back, then immediately bring her claws to bear against the wire holding her captive.

Clouded Gaze fought the sedative for a few precious moments, but it was a potent mix. Soon she slumped over the controls, and Aether's Vigil began to plummet from the sky. As dazed as Sun Shade was, she had been trained for what she might refer to as 'sticky situations.' As the deck canted forward beneath her her she slid forward willingly, and when she reached the helm she controlled her impact with her hind hooves and shoved Cloud's limp form off of the controls.

Ocean loomed before her in the bay windows, and it's blue expanse made it impossible to gauge just how much time she had left before impact. So Shade just pulled up hard, feeling herself become seriously heavy as the g-forces tried to crush her to the deck. But she kept her grip steady, and the horizon became visible, filling up the windows with sky just as the bottom of the ship skimmed the water, causing the whole vessel to shudder.

She drew the ship up further and it began to fly proper, leveling out above the water line. With a shaky breath, Sun Shade glanced behind her and confirmed her fears. The door behind her was wide open. The traitor was gone.

Mere moments later, several crew members burst through the hatch and poured into the room. Various cries of "Captain!" and "I think he's dead." and "Fetch Celestia!" and "Sun Shade! You're hurt!" and "What in the coiled spring of eternity happened here?" echoed in Shade's ears, but they all sounded distant and hollow. Every face she glanced at was a cunning disguise. Every touch of concern laced with mockery. Every kind face a potential mask. Shade grit her teeth, shook more tears out of her eyes, and tried to control her panicked breathing.

But she didn't dare give the flight controls to anyone.

It was difficult, but Celestia eventually regained a measure of herself. Despite her overwhelming, literally overwhelming, sense of joy and happiness, she did have tasks to attend to, subjects and friends to aid. As she pried her gaze away from her brother and directed it to the shoreline ahead, she tried asking Teryn for information or insight. She wondered if he could describe how they might combat the darkness unfurling endlessly to one side of them. Unfortunately, he seemed to have no idea how to help.

Celestia spotted a few straggling creatures on the beach, headed south. She figured they must be catching up to Twilight and Luna. She was entirely unprepared for the airship to tumble suddenly out of the sky, allowing the wind to snatch the pair of alicorns off the deck and into a freefall.

It only took Celestia a moment to straighten out her fall with her wings, teleport herself beneath her brother's helpless form and catch him with a simple telekinesis spell. She watched as the Vigil straightened out of its dive in the nick of time, leveled out just above the ocean's surface and continued without them.

As Celestia gently draped her brother across her back and continued to fly, he spoke into her ear. "Good catch, sister." He chuckled weakly, "Some friends you've got. I do believe we've been given the brush off."

"Nonsense." It was startling how easy it was to slip back into old speech habits with him. She wasted no time treating him like a little brother after all these years. "I'd say something unexpected happened. Maybe the Captain overlooked something in the repairs."

"I do hope you're right, sister."

"Hey Pinkie," Twilight kept her voice deliberately relaxed, as though they were sharing a cup of tea at Sugar Cube Corner. "How are you holding up?"

"Um," Pinkie's voice was slightly less relaxed, as though they were sharing an afternoon disarming large amounts of explosives. "Okay, I guess. I can feel this, um, strange sort of pressure in my head, and, uh, maybe one of you magicy horned ponies who're all good with magicy stuff could, um, take over for me maybe? Because I'm trying real hard not to have a little freak out here."

"You're doing great, Pinkie. Real A-plus work." She placed a steadying hoof on her friend's shoulder. "But we can't. For some reason your magic is different. These things ate through Luna's shield back on the ship, remember?"

That might have been the wrong thing to say. The earth pony began to tremble even more, and her eyes grew more frantic. "Oh crudy-crud, that's right. I-I watched it happen! Oh no! What-what if. . ." Little ripples spread across the perfectly-spherical dome above them. "What if they manage. . ."

"Deep breaths, Pinkie, deep breaths. You need to relax and let the magic flow through you. You're already doing fine, all you have to do is keep it up for a little bit longer. I promise, we'll make it out of here okay. Don't forget, you saved us from the behemoth, remember?"

Pinkie's shaking slowed a little. "Hey yeah, I. . . I kinda did, didn't I?"

"You bet." Twilight kept soothing Pinkie with her voice while she wrapped a hug around her. "And furthermore, we found Fluttershy."

Pinkie glanced at the yellow pegasus, and her exhale broke into pieces. It was impossible to tell if they were the echoes of sobs or laughter.

"Now. . . now all we need to do is find Dash and Spike." Twilight concluded, ignoring their current predicament as though it was a tiny problem being buried alive beneath mounds of disgusting creatures, each one a tribute to torture and rot. "Easy-peasy, right?"

Pinkie nodded, and took a steadying breath. "Right." She agreed.

Twilight felt the tremors dwindle and she disentangled herself from the hug, assured that Pinkie's shield would hold for a bit longer.

"Twilight Sparkle." Princess Luna turned the unicorn with a hoof. "We have an idea."

Oh thank goodness. Twilight thought. I was all out of those. "What is it?"

"Dost thou remember our grounding exercises aboard the Vigil?"

Twilight thought back. She remembered trying to shove Pinkie backwards, and finding it almost impossible. "Yes."

"We shall purchase ourselves some space by exerting ourselves against opposite sides of this dome. When we are ready. . ."

"Oh!" Twilight immediately liked the idea. "That should work! In fact I'd say its genius!"

"Well," Was the Princess of the Night blushing a little? "Perhaps such titles might be warranted should we survive the day. But how shall we proceed should this plan work?"

Twilight pondered for a bit, chewing on her bottom lip. She ran through hundreds of spells in her mind, wondering which would help keep her friends from harm. Unfortunately, she pondered a little too long. There was a loud crash that shook the sand beneath them. Applejack shot awake. "GAH! Oh my stars! C'mere Flutters!" She immediately threw her arms around Fluttershy, who barely had the energy to squeak in protest.

"What was that?" Pinkie asked nervously.

Luna looked worried. "It has returned." She breathed.

There was another crash, much closer this time, and sea water sloshed up around the blue dome of energy. "There's no time!" Twilight shouted. "Pinkie, drop the shield when we say so, okay? But not a moment before!"

"Okay!" Pinkie tried to sound brave.

"What're y'all doin'?" Applejack asked, finally taking a look around. "Oh sweet sunburnt filly Celestia. . ."

Twilight and Luna wheeled to face opposite directions, and together their horns lit with blinding light. They set themselves and pushed against opposite sides of Pinkie's shield, their force scaling upwards until the air beneath the shield gusted chaotically. Twilight felt herself pushed right up against Luna's backside, and so braced, she pushed herself even harder, focusing on her half of the dome. Her ears popped painfully from the increase in pressure.

"Ah!" Pinkie shouted. "That really feels weird! None of you magical ponies ever talk about how weird your magicy stuff feels!"

"NOW, PINKAMENA!" Luna thundered.

The shield dropped, and like a detonation the combined forces exploded outwards, flinging bloated, fungus-covered creatures in every direction. The beach was scoured clear for a hundred yards, and the monsters flung into the air arced out of sight.

Twilight's ears rang with the sudden silence, and as the after-image of the magic faded from her eyes, they focused on the megalith crawling out of the sea. It was close to them, too close. It was only a couple of dragging, lumbering steps away from crushing them all. It's skin had dissolved away in the ocean water, leaving the bright reds of striated muscle and filmy connective tissues, like a biology poster come to life. Twilight felt Luna at her side, and she readied her magic.

But then an answering crash reverberated behind them, causing Twilight to spin in place. A second behemoth emerged from the shadows of the twisted lands, shaking its massive head and roaring in challenge.

Twilight exhaled as though she'd been kicked in the gut. "Oh, hoof me. . ."

"Twilight." Fluttershy's voice was quiet. Hoarse with thirst and pain and exhaustion. But beneath all of that, there was steel. She stared down the new monstrosity as though she had nothing in the world to fear and never would again. "Help the Princess. I've got this one."

Twilight felt a tightening in her stomach, the same fear she felt when any of her friends were in danger. Is she insane? Her instinct was to say no, to push Fluttershy behind her and tell her she couldn't possibly handle this kind of danger. But another part of her remembered a lesson she'd learned only minutes ago, though it felt like ages. I have to trust my friends, don't I?

As if she'd read her mind, Fluttershy flipped her makeshift ponytail out of the way and glanced at her friend. "Trust me." She said with a soft smile.

With a grimace, Twilight nodded and spun back around to find Luna on the wing, conjuring more black chains out of thin air as the colossus hauled itself further up the beach. She had to force herself to ignore Fluttershy's absence beside her, and she pulled up a spell she thought might help. A spell she'd used back on the airship to help a mechanic fix a turbine.

As Luna's gravity spells dragged the creature towards the planet, Twilight focused on the ethereal chains and cast her own spell, reversing the gravity acting on them. The creature reared up, it's paws suddenly dragged skyward, exposing its fleshless underbelly. Luna saw the opportunity and struck with her magic, severing yards of muscle and goring the creature. At the same time, Twilight centered herself deep and cast another spell, physically knocking the creature backwards with the mightiest blow she could muster.

Twilight dropped her gravity spell, and the re-weighted chains finished hauling the monstrosity backwards, toppling it into the sea, sending mighty waves rolling out in every direction. Twilight heard a pattering sound beneath her, and she jumped away from her hooves in a panic. But it was just a nosebleed.

"Need any help?" Fluttershy asked from her shoulder. For some reason, Fluttershy's voice was incapable of startling anyone. Even as hoarse as it was, it was so soft and sweet. . .

"Wait." Twilight did a double-take, then she whipped around to find the colossus behind them collapsed in the sand. "Buh?" Twilight asked.

Fluttershy tsked, shaking her head at Princess Luna, who was flying passes above the flailing creature and lashing it down onto its back with more chains. "This needn't be so messy." Fluttershy took to the wing, and even her wing strokes looked exhausted as she crossed the distance, her light body barely clearing the water. Twilight just stared, her muscles twitching with the effort needed to stay upright. Her head was starting to pound. She really needed to find a different job, one where she didn't need to overextend herself magically so very often.

Twilight just watched in disbelief as Fluttershy landed on the giant creature, and it immediately went limp, as though it had just fallen asleep. From a couple of paces away, Applejack muttered, "Huh. She makes it look kinda easy."

Pinkie cupped a hoof to her mouth. "You go Fluttershy! You tell that big bad meanie who's boss!" She lowered her voice and sighed contentedly. "She's got such a way with animals. Even the smelly, give you nightmares forever kind." Was. . . was there a little spring to Pinkie's hair? It didn't look perfectly straight anymore.

Twilight just nodded, stunned. These twisted abominations had been spiritually deformed by the curse, and somehow they were driven to consume the spiritual energy of healthy beings. For some reason, Fluttershy was immune to having her soul devoured. Or she could turn it back upon them somehow. And she was able to patch up the injuries of others, even the spiritual ones. But the effort required must be immense. No wonder she looked awful.

In the ensuing silence, she heard a distant thrumming sound. A sound that filled her with hope and joy. Pinkie Pie gasped. "They're here! They're here to rescue us!"

Twilight laughed out loud. They were out of the woods, weren't they? Maybe Fluttershy can save the Captain, right? Maybe nopony else has to die today. "I can't believe we made it."

"Ah never had a doubt, sugarcube." Applejack gave Twilight a gentle noogie. "Woah, hold on a sec."

"What now?" Twilight scarcely had the energy to ask, but she asked anyway.

"You musta had sand on your horn when you started slingin' magic around." She picked at something, and Twilight cringed in pain. "It's all turned to little bits o' glass."

"Oh, let me see!" Pinkie exclaimed, gently pushing Applejack out of the way. "That's really pretty, actually!"

Twilight shook her friends off her. "Hey, knock it off." She said with a tired smile. "Let's get back aboard the airship first, okay?"

"Hey!" Pinkie Pie shouted, "Maybe Rarity can design a dress to show off your new glass-speckled horn! That would be super-awesome!"

Applejack shook her head no. "Lookin like this? Shoot, that nosebleed alone would make Rarity twitch. We'll getcha cleaned up proper first."

As the Vigil swept into view, Twilight glanced around them for more danger. The closest shambling creatures were still pretty far away, and Luna and Fluttershy seemed to be flying up towards the approaching ship. Twilight was already deciding what she wanted to pilfer from the kitchens. Definitely more of Sun Shade's tea. "After we rescue Rainbow and Spike, I'm going to sleep for a week." Twilight said to no one in particular.

Applejack chuckled. Pinkie just wrapped her arms around Twilight in a hug. In a flash of purple light, Twilight teleported them up to the deck of the hovering ship.

The airship had slowed, but it was still moving. Twilight's spell tumbled the trio onto the deck haphazardly, and they all fell into various undignified positions. Pinkie's head ended up craned beneath her. She giggled without moving. "Look! It's like you rolled three pony-shaped dice."

Twilight, her rump sticking straight up into the air, giggled with her. "I wonder how many spaces we move."

Applejack, flat on her back, said in utter exhaustion, "I hope it just means we skip our next few turns. That'd be fine by this pony."

They managed to straighten themselves up before Princess Luna and Fluttershy joined them. Twilight found herself overwhelmed with emotions. She could barely keep them straight. She was happy, and proud of her friend, and sad that she looked so awful, and ashamed for not planning better in the first place, and relieved she turned out to be alive, and humbled by the abilities she seemed to have discovered, and curious about those same abilities, and stung that she now had to ask more of her friend than she had any right to, and so on.

But she didn't shirk her responsibilities. "Fluttershy, I. . . I can't tell you how good it is to see you." Her eyes misted up and welled over, but they weren't important right now. "And none of us have the slightest clue what you've been through. But, you somehow saved me from dying. Even the Princesses didn't think it was possible, and. . ."

Fluttershy saved her the trouble. "And Thistle is dying too. I know." At Twilight's startled look, she explained herself. "Luna told me."

"C-can you help him?" Twilight managed.

"Of course I'll try." Fluttershy creased her brow in concern. "I hope I'm not too late."

Twilight nodded her thanks, but reaction was catching up to her, and she had trouble forming words. Luna stepped in. "Thouart a hero, Fluttershy. Pinkamen. . . Pinkie, please accompany our Fluttershy to the bridge. That should be where the good Captain is presently. Applejack, would thee be so kind as to see to Fluttershy's comfort? Perhaps food and a place to rest quietly?"

With murmured agreement, the three ponies departed, leaving Twilight alone with the Princess. As the airship hovered high over the ravaged stretch of beach where they'd fought so hard to survive, Luna took Twilight into her arms and held her. She could see that the unicorn just needed a little time to herself, a little peace in the aftermath of so much violence. Twilight shook, and fought down the tears, but she allowed herself this small solace.

It was only a few minutes later when the sound of metal hoofshods touched down behind Luna's back. This didn't surprise Luna. The second set of hooves that touched down beside her, though. . . that came as a surprise. "Sister. . ." Celestia's voice, thick with emotion, caused Luna to turn. "Sister, look who we found among these forgotten wastes."

Luna locked eyes with the brown-coated alicorn leaning upon Celestia's radiant form. She recognized him instantly. She shot to her hooves, standing tall beneath the noon sun. "Teryn." She said, a glint of challenge in her voice.

"Luna. . ." Teryn's voice, by contrast, expressed love and longing.

"It truly is him." Celestia said earnestly. "He's alive and returned to us, sister. . ."

From her place sitting upon the flight deck of the airship, Twilight was threaded through with shock. She thought they'd been through a great deal, she hadn't even considered what everyone else might have been going through. And this. . . Twilight could definitely see the resemblance, despite the contrasting colors. Luna and Teryn had been twins, right? She had remembered Celestia saying as much. What in Equestria's name had happened?

Teryn reached out to his black-coated sister. "It's been so long. . ."

Twilight was doubly shocked when Luna lifted her brother up in her magic and dragged him close, until they were nose to nose. "Not so long, brother mine." Luna snarled. "Not so long at all. Why, thou stopped to visit us just a few weeks ago, didn't thee?"

Celestia was aghast. "Luna, what are you doing?"

Teryn's eyes widened, and he chaffed in disbelief. "Oh, well it's nice to see you too. . ."

Luna cut him off, still snarling her words as though the figure before her had offended her. "'Twas thine eyes. . . We were certain 'twas thee 'pon the far shore, possessed of a changeling's form, what savaged our sister and turned that savagery 'pon us!"

"Stop this, Luna." Teryn said flatly.

"'Twas thee we sensed deep within the hurricane's fury, striking our ship from the sky! And thee we discover upon these darkened shores, twisting thy words and doubtless plotting more harm 'pon us!"

Twilight wiped some of the crusted blood off of her nose and tried to focus her exhausted mind. She thought for certain things were going to get worse before they got any better. Yet even as she tried to prepare herself, her breath caught as she watched pain and incomprehension twist Celestia's features.

The drooping alicorn looked helpless in Luna's grasp. "Have you considered," He said weakly, "Maybe I just wanted to see you both so badly. . ."

Luna continued, her voice shaking with the force of her anger. "Brother, we have felt thy heart through thy magic and will. And we have named thee Traitor of Life, after thy wish to see all things dead beneath thy hooves." For the first time, Princess Luna allowed herself to display the barest hint of pain. "All we ask. . . is why."

Celestia took a step back from her brother, studying him with new eyes. Her pain was palpable. But Teryn didn't refute the accusation. He didn't respond at all for a few moments. Luna's gaze remained steady, and Twilight, looking on, held her breath.

Eventually Teryn shrugged, and as he did, he shrugged out of Luna's spell the way one might shrug out of a light grip on the shoulder. He transformed then, not in any physical way, but he stood tall with no hint of uncertainty or fatigue. And his expression became fond, almost covetous as he regarded his siblings. "Oh, I don't expect either of you to understand the truth." His voice held clear hints of disappointment and despite.

Celestia gasped and held a shaky hoof to her mouth. "What. . . What truth?"

Teryn paced over to the railing and studied the crawling shadows stretching out for miles. "Death, of course. The only genuinely universal truth." He turned a disarming smile back upon Celestia, a smile that on any other pony would have elicited a smile in return. "I'd like to share it with you."

23: Fall of Canterlot

Lyra Heartstrings galloped through the moonlit streets of Canterlot, her breath coming out in ragged gasps of pale fog. The temperature had been steadily dropping since the moon had risen several hours ago, and Lyra found herself wishing she had a sweater or a hoodie. Or at least a scarf. But she didn't have time to worry about apparel. She sprinted past a Foal's R Us and turned at the Marecy's, running towards the castle and the statue gardens.

She felt a stitch starting on her right side, and Lyra slowed her pace a little, focusing on her breathing. She hated running. She'd never been an athletic pony, preferring instead to gravitate towards studies and hobbies that didn't involve both sweat and pain. But then she remembered the sound of Discord's mocking laughter, and she pushed herself harder.

She remembered a trick she'd learned back in grade school when her parents had made her take at least one after-school activity involving sports. The track coach had, probably in desperation, urged Lyra to count her breaths while she ran. She tried it now, hoping to lessen the sharp pain in her ribs. But then her mind drifted to the previous summer, and the few days when Discord held power in Equestria. The world had just about ended in a lunatic's vision of the apocalypse.

Counting breaths was not enough of a distraction.

As the entry gate to the gardens loomed into view Lyra caught her first glimpse of living ponies for miles. Squadrons of pegasi flew back and forth through the cool air, and heavily-armored unicorns stood in precise ranks scattered around the courtyard. A few of them glanced at her with worried eyes, some of them giving her nods of recognition as she passed. But she didn't nod back or slow her approach.

Shining Armor and Princess Luna were the only two anywhere near the statue of Discord. They stood together, pale and dark silhouettes paired against the deep night. Shining Armor sighed, stretched, and occasionally glanced around, clearly restive and eager for something to happen. Beside him, Princess Luna could have been a statue, her deep blue coat and flowing mane the only hints that she didn't belong among the solemn figures of Canterlot Gardens herself.

"What is it?" Shining Armor asked without taking his eyes off of Discord's stone form.

Lyra stumbled to a stop, her head drooped and her mane glistened with sweat. She intended to answer, she really did. There just wasn't enough air in her lungs to speak without passing out. She held up a hoof while her chest heaved in ragged gasps. Shining gave a tiny nod in return and waited.

Meanwhile, an armored pegasus flitted out of the star-speckled sky and landed heavily in the grass, his back confidently turned upon the draconequus statue. "Sir!" He saluted, his hoof clanging off his helmet.

"Report."

"Captain, a caravan attempting to skirt through the grass along the south road overturned, blocking most of the roadway."

Shining eloquently lifted an eyebrow. "So clear the way."

"Sir," The pegasus ducked his head in shame. "The, uh, the civilian ponies began fighting one another in the road, using hoof and cudgel. My squadron couldn't get close."

Luna spoke for the first time since Lyra arrived. "And the spirit of chaos laughs at our folly."

Shining Armor shook his head sadly, his sigh heavy with regret. "Terrible news. I take it my wife has been summoned to the scene?"

"Yes Captain, Princess Cadance should be on her way now."

"Good. She'll know how to handle the situation. Dismissed."

"Sir." The pegasus saluted again and vanished with a flap of wings.

Shining glanced meaningfully at the mint unicorn still trying to catch her breath. Lyra nodded and collapsed into the cold grass. "Yes, that's. . . that's what I came to. . . to tell you."

Shining smiled at the small irony. "There were no guards around when you spotted the wreck, so naturally you came to tell me directly. I might have made the same call had I been in your hooves."

Lyra rolled her eyes, but she smiled too. As her breathing slowed to something a little less desperate, however, she felt a subtle change in the atmosphere. A prickly sensation crawled down her spine.

Beside her, Luna tensed. "Captain. . . We believe now is the time."

Without hesitation, Shining Armor's horn began to glow, and in a burst of light a massive dome of purple energy formed over the entire city of Canterlot, cutting the ponies off from the tapestry of the night sky. The shield itself was a signal, and all along the outskirts of the city, outside the dome, clusters of unicorns from students to civilians to members of the guard began channeling their magic through meticulously placed crystals. The light diffused across the outside of the purple shield in shifting ribbons of colored light, suffusing the night with ethereal beauty.

Lyra held her breath, staring hard at the small, fine crack running through the eye of the statue before her. All around her, ponies of the guard readied themselves, and Lyra did the same. Her brow furrowed in concentration. But as the minutes ticked by, nothing happened. Her heart beat a little too fast, and sweat began to roll into her eyes. Still more nothing happened. Soft murmurs drifted through the assembled guardponies.

Lyra drew in a breath to ask a question, but Luna cut her off. "It is done." She said, anticipation lacing her voice. "Discord is free."

"W-what?" Lyra stammered.

"Observe." Luna paced up to the statue and struck it a blow with her hoof. The white stone shattered into pieces, falling to the soft grass around the Princess.

The air itself reverberated with malice. "Oh dear. . . our sweet Princess has gone and ruined the surprise." The scattered chunks of stone twitched through the grass like a drove of suddenly lively guinea pigs, and they quickly hopped atop one another, forming a demented parody of the draconequus they once encased. It moved like a malformed puppet, its head swiveling around too far, and its broken mouth opening too wide as it addressed the gathering. "But. . . surprise!"

"Fire!" Shining lowered his head and a bolt of magic tore through the stone figure. A hundred others followed, launched by the rows of unicorns waiting for just this moment.

The stones merely jostled in place, bumped around and shifted but not seriously displaced by the attack as the bolts passed through the figure. Lyra backed away, her eyes wide and darting as the broken statue threw its head back and laughed. It laughed so long and so hard, it started to choke. Yet, as it coughed dramatically and held up a lion's paw in the universal gesture of 'give me a second,' Lyra could tell it couldn't possibly be the real Discord. He was hiding somewhere.

The statue reached an eagle claw way down its throat, and pulled up a particularly large chunk of stone, coughing as it did so. "Well, I do apologize. Had something stuck in the old craw, it seems." With that it tossed the stone into the air, twisted its body around at the waist, and struck the falling object with an invisible baseball bat. The hunk of stone rocketed through the air like a comet and shattered against the inside of the shield in a shower of sparks.

The statue turned a mocking grin upon Shining Armor. "Well," Its tone suddenly turned sophisticated, but its mouth still didn't quite match the words it spoke. "That is a solid bit of work, old chap, solid bit of work. A true harmonic shield, jolly well done! Still and all, you've left me quite a few toys to play with inside, haven't you old buddy, old boy, old chap?"

Luna scarcely paid the statue any mind. Instead, she scanned the grounds for any hint of the real threat. "Enough games! Show yourself, Discord!"

"Enough games?" The statue laughed. "Why, we haven't even started playing! And the night is so young." The statue stretched, and the sound of stones grinding against stones made Lyra cringe. "I say it's high time the fun began! You see, small communities grow great through harmony!" It's head remained still while its broken body jangled with mirth. "Great communities fall to pieces through discord! Ahahahahahahahahahaha!!!"

With that, the statue fell to all fours and crab-walked into the ranks of unicorns, flinging bodies left and right. Magic flared, panicked voices shouted, and through it all heavy stone footsteps could be heard. Shining Armor charged into the fray, his horn aglow. Lyra felt her courage drain away as the cold seeped into her limbs. Fighting was a waste of time and energy. They couldn't win. This isn't fair! He doesn't fight fair!

She squeaked in surprise as a leonine arm draped across her shoulder. A voice like shredded silk tickled her ear. "My dear, it's more than fair." Lyra twitched her head to the side to find a grey-coated face topped with a pair of mis-matched antlers. And a pair of cheap plastic sunglasses. The kind worn by tourists. "You see, Captain Shiny-Flank assembled all these fine young ponies here tonight in order to fight something, didn't he? Imagine their disappointment if I didn't indulge them just a little."

Wherever he touched her, Lyra felt little tendrils of panic creeping under her skin, but she couldn't bring herself to move. It felt like every nightmare she'd ever had sort of rolled into one. She actually surprised herself when she found her voice. "G-get. . . get away from me." She mumbled.

"Hmmmm. . . you're right." Discord replied, as thought she'd said something completely different. "This needs a little something more. I wonder what might happen if. . .?" With a snap of his fingers, a nearby statue shuddered. A stone depiction of a pony standing on one hoof and pouring out water from a pitcher leapt off of its pedestal and hurled its stone container into the fray. When it shattered a thick goo exploded outwards with a surprising amount of force, spattering nearby ponies in a pale yellow syrup. Then that statue joined the fight too.

"Wait for it. . ." Discord held his breath in anticipation.

Lyra shrugged out from under the heavy paw and took a pair of timid steps backwards. "S-stop this." She wished she sounded braver, but she couldn't help it. She was terrified.

Discord waved his paw, which was suddenly holding a signal flag, and from over a nearby hedge a swarm of bees appeared. They flung themselves straight into the melee, and all the while Discord's mocking laughter resounded off of the castle walls. "Hahahahaaaa-hahahahah!! You see? Somehow, the bee's nest found its way into that stone pitcher! What a sticky situation the esteemed Canterlot guard has found itself in!"

There was a gust of wind from nowhere, and it cut through the fray. The unicorns and the stone effigies were mostly unmoved, but the bees were bundled up into a ball of swirling air and ejected from the fight. Then the ground itself rippled, opening a crack just below the newest stone pony. It slipped, its rear hooves falling in and dragging it back as the earth snapped shut, pinning the statue in place.

The glow ebbed from Luna's horn as she stepped forward, her starry mane flowing. Discord's laughter subsided, and his crooked smile was replaced with a frown of boredom. He gently plucked the glasses off his face and dropped them to the ground, where with a flash of light they became a somewhat startled goose that honked and waddled away in a dignified hurry.

"Do you mind, O ancient stuffy one? Shamrock Shake and I were just starting to enjoy ourselves." Without transition, Lyra found Discord's arm draped over her again, as though they were the best of friends. She squeaked in protest and tried to duck away, but she had been hoisted into the air like a small piece of luggage.

"INDEED WE DO MIND, HARBINGER OF DISSENT!" Luna's voice thundered through the night, filling Canterlot until the whole city resonated with her audacity. "THY TRICKS CANNOT EARN THY FREEDOM TONIGHT!"

Lyra glanced up to see Discord looking entirely windblown, his fur and antlers bent away from the sound of Luna's voice. He tapped a claw against his temple. "My dear, if you simply allowed somepony to perform the Heimlich maneuver on you, we might be able to find that megaphone you've swallowed. . ."

Shining Armor galloped up from the cluster of soldiers, his helm framing fierce blue eyes. "We have the rubble monster trapped as well, and I've got Fritz and Lucky working on a disenchantment." He skidded to a stop next to Luna. "I think we've got everything under control."

"Oh indeed you do, Shining Armor, indeed you do. Perhaps congratulations are in order." A hunk of gold appeared in Discord's claw, and he shook it until it resembled a medal of valor. "Here, take this well-deserved. . . oh my heavens, whatever is that noise?" There was a series of distant crashes, stone and glass, that wafted towards them from the direction of downtown. "Perhaps a store full of foal's toys has been taken over by enterprising and militant stuffed animals. What are the odds?" Discord clucked his tongue in disapproval. "I suppose I'll just hold on to this medal for the time being."

Shining growled, and then shouted over his shoulder. "Ranks!" Almost a hundred unicorns fell into rank and file, their horns aimed at the draconequus. Then Shining's horn lit, and Lyra felt herself encased in magic as she was hauled out of Discord's grasp by force.

Luna scowled at the Captain of the Guard. "You cannot fight him this way."

"Aim!" Shining Armor shouted. Row upon row of unicorns dipped their heads. Discord reached behind his back and pulled out a weapon, falling into a flawless fencer's guard stance. His confident grin vanished into surprise as he saw that the weapon he held was nothing but a long stalk of wheat.

"Fire!" Dozens of magical blasts tore through the night. Every guard present opened fire with a destructive burst from their horn. Shining grinned as he watched Discord's pupils shrink to pinpricks. But then Discord blurred, deflecting every single attack with lightning-fast flicks of his weapon. Magic ricoched in every direction, most of them striking the shield at some point, but a few launched into buildings or nearby trees, causing damage.

Discord flourished his stalk of wheat in an elaborate bow, to the sound of a gong and applause. When he stood upright again, he was wearing a Karate gi sashed with a black belt. "Very impressive! However, I might be more concerned about every bit of currency in this town having just been turned into various flavors of potato chip." He giggled. "I'd love to see the economists try and sort this one out! 'Hey Ted, how's the situation out there?' 'Well Bob, salt and vinegar might be up, but the sour cream and chive is just plummeting!'"

Luna urged calm as she spoke. "We must remember that fighting only breeds more chaos, Captain."

Shining snorted in frustration, but he nodded. Discord snaked around him. "Hmmm, no. The economy wont worry you much, will it? You're far more worried that your pretty alicorn wife is trapped beneath this bubble too, aren't you?"

Lyra gasped. Luna's eyes widened in shock, and she shouted, "Do not heed his mmmmfff ffmmfff!" She suddenly found her mouth strapped shut with duct tape. It took her a long moment to free herself with magic, but by then it was too late.

Discord had touched a single claw to Shining Armor's forehead. His eyes swirled with every color imaginable, and Discord's voice drifted through the night. "Starting a fight can be quite brave. . . if it's loved ones you're trying to save." From the center of Shining's forehead, color leeched from his coat just as the life seemed to drain from his gaze. There was a moment where nobody dared to move. Discord backed up a couple of paces, keeping his gaze locked on Shining Armor. Then he smiled, and Shining charged with a battle cry that shook the night.

Lyra hadn't seen much fighting in her life. She grew up in an affluent and cultured corner of Canterlot, and the constant presence of Celestia made violence and crime incredibly uncommon. Lyra'd never even seen the more action-y movies Bon Bon loved so much. She'd certainly never seen anything that might have prepared her for being in close proximity to an assault made by a unicorn as well-trained as Shining. And he attacked Discord with every spell in his arsenal. Lyra couldn't plug her ears and shield her eyes at the same time, so she cringed and flung herself backwards on sheer survival instincts.

Chunks of ground exploded upward, but Discord side-stepped them. Mana bolts hummed through the air, curving back around when they missed. Discord eeled out of their way. Tendrils of magic lashed through the air, attempting to entwine and ensnare, but they couldn't seem to make contact. Large stones appeared above Discord's head, but he never seemed to be under them when they fell. Fire erupted in every direction, scorching the ground. But it simply sloughed away from the spirit of chaos as he spun and laughed and reveled in the display of power.

Luna, on the other hoof, seemed to be everywhere at once. She was mending a spreading crack in the ground, then teleporting to the far side of the fray to quench spreading flames, then back again, dispersing stray magic blasts. She worked hard to save Canterlot and the innocent bystanders from the consequences of Shining Armor's uncontrolled attack, but it was all she could do to keep up. A few of the guard had to protect themselves, throwing up shields or tossing themselves to the side.

A soft voice, barely heard, threaded through the din. It stilled the violence causing Shining Armor, and every other witness, to turn. "My love?" An alicorn of light pink and rose stood aghast near the edge of smoldering and torn earth, one hoof held delicately to her throat.

"My dear Princess Cadance, right on time. . ." Discord spun a stately pirouette and bowed low in her direction. Shining Armor charged his enemy again, but his moment of hesitation gave Luna a chance to close with him and tackle him to the ground in an attempt to contain his berserker rush. As they wrestled through the ash and craters of dirt, Discord calmly floated towards the alicorn.

"What have you done to him?" She growled.

"Done?" Discord asked innocently. "Why Princess, I've done very little. If you'd really like somepony to blame for turning your refined hubby into a vicious brute, you may simply have to blame. . . well. . . his love for you."

Cadance tried hard not to twitch, not to give away any weakness beneath Discord's scrutiny. But there was a subtle hitch to her breathing she couldn't quite hide. "Love is a unifying force." She asserted confidently. "It brings ponies together for. . ."

"Do not play ignorant, Princess! It doesn't suit you." Discord hissed, suddenly dropping his playful demeanor. "We both know the truth. Love is irrational and destructive. Love spurned or betrayed or abused has caused far more suffering than I ever could. Wars have been fought, atrocities committed, crimes and transgressions. . . all for an illogical attachment to another."

He drifted around her, as light as a breeze. "Has it never struck you as odd that half of your written songs describe the joys of love, while the other half describe the devastation of heartbreak? It is a delicious irony that your greatest source of happiness is simultaneously your greatest source of despair. All love is pain, Princess, if you just wait long enough."

"Y-you're wrong. Love. . . love is worth the cost. . ." Cadance's response lacked conviction, and her voice shook. Her life and her destiny had always centered around spreading love to those she met. Discord's words apparently had managed to touch upon the deepest doubts hidden in her heart.

Lyra watched in horror as the Princess's eyes unfocused. No! Lyra took a panicked breath and forced her legs into motion. Even though every fiber of her being was desperate to run away from this scene, she launched herself towards Cadance, hoping to spare her soul from the monster's touch. Lyra ran. She ran harder and faster than she'd ever run before, her hooves thundering beneath her. She wasn't going to let the Princess doubt her own self-worth. She was a kind soul, and she didn't deserve that kind of pain.

But the faster she ran, the more obvious it became. Lyra wasn't going anywhere. A glance down showed her the treadmill that had appeared beneath her, and her heart skipped a beat. A glance back up showed her she was already too late.

Discord had a claw against Cadance's forehead, just behind her horn. "Love is just one type of madness, you know. . ." He muttered into her ear. "It's probably kinder to let loved ones go."

The Princess shook her head slowly, but not in denial. As her features crumpled, she gently curled herself up in the grass and held herself. Her delicate frame shook with suppressed sobs, and the color began to fade from her coat.

Lyra finally found her voice. "You MONSTER!!!" She shouted at the top of her lungs. She managed to leap safely off of the treadmill, only stumbling a little. "You horrible, despicable, heartless, ugly, cheap, foul-smelling, vindictive monster!" With her telekinesis she plucked Discord out of the air and dragged him towards her. Strangely, he weighed nothing. "Change them back!" She shouted right into his face.

"Hey!" Discord said, offended. "I am not ugly. And. . . hehehahahahah. . . you think I'm the monster here? Really? HahahaHAHAHAHAA!!!!! Oh my dear little Incidental Unicorn Number Two, you haven't even seen the real monster!" He snapped his fingers, and there was a flash of green light off to the side. "Isn't that right Princess?" Once again, he sneered the title. "Or should I say 'Queen?'"

Lyra didn't want to look. But she looked anyway. Shining Armor was nose-to-nose with a glossy black carapace, acid-green eyes and a mane that drifted like cobwebs on the breeze. With an incoherent roar of rage and hatred, Shining directed his attacks against the new threat. Lyra, meanwhile, tried to contain the scream that threatened to bubble out of her throat.

Queen Chrysalis. Lyra still hadn't come close to healing the scars left on her mind from the last time she'd seen that face. And she'd taken Luna's place in Canterlot? Since when?

There was no hope left for any of them.

As the ground beneath her began to deform, and nearby trees lifted into the air in defiance of the laws of gravity, Lyra Heartstrings covered her eyes and waited for the end.

24: Sunset

“'Tis no good answer, brother, so I ask thee again. Why?” Luna rasped.

To Twilight's eyes, Teryn appeared calm and rational. Were he just a little less tall, and perhaps without the wings or the horn, she might have passed him by in a busy marketplace without a second thought.

He smiled sympathetically when he replied. “You don't need to understand. I'm. . . not certain you could. The millennia you both have spent troubled by the petty concerns of mortals, I have spent observing the ebb and flow of the cosmos.” His horn began to glow. “My beloved siblings, you both only have one thing left to do.” Luna braced herself for an attack, and Twilight followed her lead.

Black tendrils of power squirmed out of Teryn's fur, grasping at nothing. A blink, and his eyes had become large, glossy marbles. Despite the warm sunlight, deep cold radiated across the airship deck, and Twilight gasped as though she'd been thrown into the ocean far below. The wood beneath his hooves deformed, cracking and peeling as he gathered his power.

To Twilight's senses, he felt as formidable as the hurricane had been. She could feel the same immortal and ageless power that a nameless being had bestowed upon Celestia and Luna in eons past. Yet underlying that power was another, a deeper force that stank like rot and attar. And it was as vast as the roiling landscape of shadows stretching out beneath them. Her confidence was utterly unmade. She wasn't certain that even the Elements of Harmony could prevail here.

Celestia stepped forward steadily, defenseless, and without reservation. She confronted the figure within the darkness, rather than the power itself. “Please brother, I need to understand.” She pleaded. “I. . . I know why you hate me. And m-maybe I deserve to. . . to. . .” She fought back her dismay. “I will not defend myself against you. All I need is to hear you say it. Out loud. What. . .” Celestia swallowed hard and bowed her head towards the deck. “What truth have my mistakes taught you?”

Teryn's eyes unfocused, and for a long second those glassy orbs tracked back and forth, practically vibrating in their sockets. Twilight wondered if his brain had shorted out. But then, without releasing his power, he spoke. “You comprehend so little,” His voice was nothing but a faint echo, distant and tinny. “Your plan to sacrifice me in your bid against the Dark was a meaningless gamble, and I have not dwelled upon it. Had I craved vengeance, I could have had it ages ago.” He frowned at the landscape below, as though it was a foal who had missed a deadline for a school assignment. “There is, perhaps, a little time left to us. Yet it cannot change the fact that there is nothing to say.”

Celestia followed his gaze, turning subtly towards his side. And Twilight understood. It was just like the fight in the changeling hive, when Celestia had kept Cinder's attention off of Twilight's friends in a moment when it mattered most. Celestia had moved his gaze away from Twilight in particular. She was trying to give her an opportunity to escape, maybe warn the others. It was exactly what Twilight might have done in her place; shoulder all of the consequences and spare her friends.

Twilight began edging backwards towards the open hatch, placing each hoof slowly and carefully. Her stomach growled loudly then, and she remembered out of the blue that she hadn't eaten in. . . days now, wasn't it? Not since the storm, at least. She froze in place, feeling dizzy with fear. Fear and hunger. Thankfully, Princess Celestia had begun speaking at that moment.

“It was you.” Celestia said, “You found the Element of Deception and gave it to the changelings, didn't you?”

“I did.” Teryn answered vacantly. “I have empowered many creatures inhabiting your lands. And in return, they have all helped me slip through your borders and into your secret places. I have watched you lead. I have watched you fight. I have watched you struggle and celebrate. I have watched you sleep. I have known this day would come, and I have prepared.”

Nope. Not creepy at all. Twilight began edging her way backwards again.

“Hast thou changed so much, brother?” Luna demanded. She trembled as she spoke, but only a fool might mistake that for weakness. “Has thy time spent in the void turned thy love to ash?”

“Love?” He laughed then, and there was genuine wonder in his voice. “I have mourned the passing of stars. Witnessed the end of uncounted civilizations. I have peeked behind the fabric of existence, and I have discovered that every act of creation begins with destruction. Death. It is the first and the last of all that is.” One of the undulating tendrils curled about Luna's cheek, and she hissed and pulled away. “If I didn't love you both, I would have left you to die with the rest of this worthless planet.”

Luna glowered. “Thouart corrupted by the ill thou has existed within for so long. Step into the light, brother, for we will not allow thee to commit such an atrocity!”

Teryn smiled. “I'm not the one devouring the world. Yami has never left, and continues to seek the heart of this planet. Yet, you know all of this, don't you Luna?”

The Princess of the Night gave no response.

“Sister?” Celestia's eyes shone. “What is he talking about?”

Teryn's head tilted to the side. “Oh, Luna has known the truth for some time now. As I understand it, she intended to goad you into traveling here. Tell me Celestia, what event finally convinced you to make the voyage? Was it perhaps a changeling attack our sister was mysteriously absent for?”

Twilight thought her heart might simply beat right out of her chest and go flopping across the wood of the deck, giving her away then and there. Luna? Oh, that does explain so much. . . Well crap. She knew Celestia couldn't just sit around forever. . . But that's still betrayal, no matter what her intentions were. She didn't stop moving, though, and she gently eased herself back over the storm sill one leg at a time. She lost track of Celestia's hurt reply as she backed through the hatch, and the moment she was out of sight she flung herself down the stairs. Her eyes hadn't adjusted to the sudden absence of sunlight, and she collided face-first with a breathless Applejack.

“Twi!” Applejack said a little too loudly. “There's a mmflff-lfff!”

Twilight's magic had enveloped the farm mare's muzzle. She threw a terrified glance back up the stairs, but the bright sunlight remained unobstructed, and there was no surge of destructive magics that Twilight could sense. Yet.

She scrambled back into motion, releasing her captive. “We need Dash!” She said urgently, keeping her voice low. “Right now!”

Applejack struggled to keep up, keeping her hoof beats light. Twilight's fear was contagious. “Oh-kay,” She whispered, “But where's the fire? We need the Elements to capture one little changeling? OOOF!” She collided with Twilight for the second time in seven seconds.

“A changeling? Here?” Twilight's eyes darted vaguely about as the pieces fell into place. Understanding lit her eyes, and she flung herself back into motion. “Oh! That doesn't matter now!”

“My fuzzy flank it don't matter!” Applejack said when she caught back up. “You haven't seen what that slimy, lyin' insect did to Kelbri and Sun Shade! Darlin', her wrist is broke for sure!”

“Did she attack first?” Twilight angled down the stairs, sliding a bit as she turned.

“What? The hoof's it matter who swung first?”

Twilight turned her head a little to answer over her shoulder, but she missed her footing and slipped, tumbling down the last of the stairs. She resisted the urge to catch herself with her magic, her only thought was avoiding the attention of the thing up on the flight deck for as long as she could. So she tumbled broadside into the wall, wincing at the impact. She kicked her hooves in an attempt to right herself.

Applejack helped her up, and she spoke slowly. “Please, just tell me what is wrong, sugar.”

Twilight responded by grabbing Applejack by the face. “The bridge. I need to get to the bridge! Applejack, he's going to tear this ship from the sky any second now!”

The bridge was as packed with bodies as Twilight had ever seen it. A glance showed Fluttershy crouched over a pair of feathered forms while Pinkie Pie hovered near her, holding a sandwich it was clear Fluttershy wasn't going to eat any time soon. The largest cluster of crew members surrounded the body of the Captain, and from the muffled sounds of mourning, Twilight assumed the worst. For the briefest of instants, she felt too heavy to move. She was so exhausted she felt it deep in her chest, and the room spun around her. She was nauseated from hunger and weakness. She needed to eat until her stomach hurt and sleep for about a week.

But Twilight was finally beginning to see the big picture. She only allowed herself the briefest moment of hesitation before she flung herself across the room, dizziness be damned, and slid to a stop next to Sun Shade. The earth pony's raven-black mane formed a disheveled frame for a face streaked with anguish. She held the flight controls as though they alone kept her alive; despite one joint looking painfully swollen and purple. Sun Shade kept her eyes locked on the horizon and acknowledged nothing.

Twilight spoke in a low voice. “Shade, I need you to. . .”

“Don't touch me.” She replied reflexively.

“Need you to cut the engines when I say so, okay? You have to trust me.” Twilight had no energy to spare for sympathy, and no time for explanations. She put as much conviction into her voice as she could. “Everyone, listen up! Find something to hold on to and don't let go!”

Sun Shade shook her head no, blinking a tear free as she did. Instead of responding, she kept her muzzle clamped down on her distress.

“Twilight.” Applejack brushed against her friend's side in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. “Just what are we up against here?”

Twilight kept her senses wide open, hoping desperately for some kind of warning before Teryn employed the powers at his command. She called up a little magic, trying to remain subtle. “It's Celestia's brother. From the story she told?” Twilight's mouth was dry with fear, and it was difficult to speak. “He's the one who's been following us, the one who controlled Cinder and attacked Celestia on the shore.”

“Uh, right. Wasn't it Talon or something?”

“Teryn. He's standing on the flight deck now, threatening to kill us all.”

“So he's the one who tore up Nova Coltia and freaked out our Fluttershy? Why, I've half a mind to march up there and personally introduce him to Bucky MacGilliguty and Kick's McGee!”

Applejack's response was lost on Twilight. She'd sensed a deep cold, like a void yawning open somewhere above. In a voice thready with panic, Twilight shouted “NOW!” and she put up a broad shield just as the top corner of the Vigil disintegrated in a massive humming orb of black power. The three front windows exploded into a shower of shrapnel, and the screaming began.

But Sun Shade had listened, placing the shredded remains of her trust into Twilight Sparkle's hooves. She'd cut the power to the hover turbines, and the airship began to fall from the sky as tendrils of darkness cleaved their way through the roof, adding splinters to the deadly mix of glass pelting Twilight's shield. Yet they didn't fall quite fast enough for Twilight, as a pair of tendrils found her shield and tore through it like it was tissue paper. She gasped at the contact; ice and pain flaring through her horn and into her brain. She dropped the spell.

The tendrils drew away as the airship continued to plummet, and Twilight's stomach tensed as the floor fell away beneath her. Around her, other bodies lifted into the air as the nose of the ship canted downward, revealing cold ocean spuming below. Applejack had anchored herself to a nearby railing and reached up, dragging Twilight back down by a hind hoof. Others were less lucky, falling high enough to collide with the ceiling.

With a cry of pain, Sun Shade shoved a lever with her busted wrist, and the turbines whirred back to life. Bodies collapsed around them as the airship tried to level out, but Twilight scarcely registered the change. For the world above her exploded with magical energies, and a palpable torrent of force consumed her attention. The incandescent explosions and thundering detonations were overwhelming to everyone else, but to Twilight's heightened senses they blotted out the world.

There was screaming in her ear; that might have been Applejack. There was an impact, and Twilight found herself flattened to the floor. Her ears rang dimly, making everything else sound faint. She forced her eyes to focus on the physical world around her. The bridge had been torn open, and sunlight streamed down upon about a dozen prone forms just picking themselves up from under a light sheen of sawdust and splinters. “You all right, sugarcube?” Applejack shouted from behind her ear.

Twilight barely heard her, and she didn't bother to answer. Her gaze had locked on the view beyond the jagged glass shards of thick glass which were all that remained of the windows. The airship had landed hard on the shore, and twining shadows drifted lazily upwards, curling over the sill. Twilight groaned. “Ugh, I hate these things!” She mumbled.

Applejack followed her gaze. “Ponyfeathers! Um, everypony steer clear of tha' windows! Er, what's left of 'em. . . Pinkie, Flutters, we might need y'all here in a sec!'”

Sun Shade had collapsed by the flight controls, clutching her foreleg and gritting her teeth. Twilight urged her to her hooves. “Shade, I'm sorry, but we need to move the ship out into the water. We can't stay here.”

The magenta pony didn't move. Twilight wasn't certain they could hear each other. With a frustrated shake of her head to try and clear her vision, Twilight stepped up to the controls. This can't be too hard, can it? Her tongue stuck absently out of one corner of her mouth as she reached towards a useful-looking lever.

A blow to her stomach catapulted her into the air, and she crashed gracelessly onto one shoulder. Sun Shade had kicked her away from the controls, and she now crouched before them, snarling at everyone. “Stay back, all of you! Any one of you filthy blighters could be the changeling!”

“Shade!” Applejack barked. “Get control of yerself! Fer all we know, y'all could be the changeling too, now couldn't ya?”

Something with soft, skinny arms gasped as it struggled to climb over the edge of the ship, seemingly unaware of the glass shards leaving faint cuts in its body. A nearby gryphon scrambled away from the horror, while Fluttershy stepped calmly between them. She touched the creature's head and it sagged limply, sliding backwards off the ship. But five others had appeared within the space of two heartbeats.

Applejack gestured out the window. “See! You're puttin' the whole crew in danger! If y'all don't trust anypony else to fly us then YOU fly us outta here, NOW!”

Twilight crawled to her feet and readied a telekinetic spell, but her eyes wouldn't focus. There was a bleary haze over everything. It took her a moment to realize it was actually smoke.

Sun Shade glanced around nervously, then started fiddling with the controls again, her eyes streaming desperate tears.

Voices carried from the back of the room. “Fire. There's a fire back here!”

“Grab the extinguishers!”

Twilight held her breath and closed one eye, hoping to steady herself and focus on a target. But she couldn't find a clear shot. She blinked hard and shook her mane out of her eyes. But then a blue bolt sailed over her shoulder, catching a pasty, scuttling crab and tossing it away.

“Fluttershy?!?” Rarity called out, pitching her voice through the smoke and din. “Nopony told me you'd returned!” She hobbled onto the bridge while sweeping creatures out of sight with her shimmering magic.

“I'm so sorry, Rarity.” Fluttershy's soft voice carried her smile with it. “It's nice to see you survived that horrible storm too.” She stretched her hooves out to touch two creatures at once, yet she couldn't seem to move very quickly anymore. Grey shaped dragged themselves aboard to either side of her. Thankfully Rarity joined her in stemming the flood.

Twilight fired off a couple of shots of her own, surprising herself with her accuracy. But then movement in the sky beyond caught her eye. A dark, hovering shape blazed a trail of lightning through the sky. Twilight recognized Princess Luna more through the feel of her magic than by sight. Within the span of about a second, Luna juked a thin black beam that sizzled the very air around it and shielded against a series of detonations from strikes Twilight was too slow to follow. When her shield shattered, Twilight forced herself to look away.

None of this is going to matter if we can't trigger the Elements, and soon. We need Rainbow! Twilight seethed. She thought frantically. They didn't have the time to find Dash with the airship, even if she could work out a tracking spell to guide them. That left only one possibility, but it was dangerous. She cast about the room for something she could use. Her eyes fell upon a clipboard, lying forgotten on the floor. With a thought, Twilight picked it up with her magic and hovered it over to her.

Her friends called out for help, but she blocked them out. Celestia and Luna needed her help too, for certain. Twilight pushed that from her mind as well. The airship's engines whirred beneath her, but Twilight blocked those out too. With her magic, she projected a crude set of instructions onto the paper still hanging from the clipboard with a spell she'd learned that one night she let herself run out of ink. Then she snapped the item into two jagged halves.

Now comes the hard part. Celestia had described the spell used to send letters back and forth to Spike, but Twilight had never tried to cast it before. She blocked out the smoke and the yelling and the scurrying around her. She blocked out the hiss of extinguishers and the disgusting sounds of wet, corrupted flesh upon the floor, and Twilight cast her spell. The crown atop her head glowed with a gentle light.

The half of the clipboard with paper still attached dissolved into the air, the same way every one of Spike's letters always had, and Twilight watched it go with worry in her eyes. Then she focused on the fractured piece of cheap wood still in front of her. She set it carefully on the floor and began weaving delicate magics around it.

Twilight failed to see Sun Shade standing tall beneath the crushing weight of her grief to pilot the ship out of danger one more time. She failed to see Fluttershy work herself to exhaustion, until her legs collapsed and refused to support her. She failed to see Rarity taking a stand amidst smoke and screaming to save her friends from the swarm of nightmares. She failed to see Skan, a gryphon she barely knew, shouting fearless orders as he and two other crew members fought to contain a wall of flames spreading across the back of the room. She missed the moment when Applejack picked Fluttershy up and, at her insistence, trotted her from one corrupted creature to another, that she might continue to still them with her touch. She failed to see Pinkie Pie's look of concentration as she tried to work multiple shields at once, both protecting Rarity's flank and helping to contain the spread of the blaze behind her.

Twilight caught none of these things as she bent all of her focus into the complex spell. Before long, a glowing disk of violet magic hovered just above the broken object. She stepped backward, mopping sweat from her brow. With a thought, she shielded herself and her target from the rest of the bridge. If the other piece of clipboard hadn't ended up where she'd intended. . . or if her instructions hadn't been clear. . . She tried not to dwell on the possibilities. Instead she steadied herself the way Celestia had instructed her to, and she struck.

Light flared before her, burning afterimages shaped like star-bursts into her eyes. As the light faded, Twilight saw ocean water rolling before her, reflecting sunlight through the portal she'd opened. A little seawater actually rolled right through the aperture, sloshing the floor around her hooves. “Spike?” She called out. “Dash?”

“Twilight?” The sound of a voice Twilight couldn't bear to miss made her breath catch high in her throat just before a chubby, green-spined figure floated into view.

“Twilight!?! Heh, I knew you'd WOAH!” Twilight's magic slung him through the gate and into her arms, and Spike relaxed into the embrace. “I knew you'd find me. I knew it.” He said with warm confidence. Twilight couldn't seem to find her voice, so she let the hug speak for itself. But after just a few seconds Spike wrinkled his nose and blinked his eyes open. “Uh, Twilight. . . What happened in here?”

Twilight did not let up right away. She couldn't say she'd been more worried for Spike than for her other friends, but she'd definitely felt a different kind of worry. She'd felt responsible for him, and now with his wet scales rising and falling in her arms, a heavy weight lifted off of her heart. Coasting a wave of relief and elation, Twilight opened her eyes too.

The bridge had quieted. Sun Shade had the Vigil in a low hover just off the coast, her tear tracks the only clean part of her face. Soot and sawdust covered everything as ponies and gryphons took stock of their injuries and light streamed in through the space where half of the ceiling used to be. “It's, ah. . . it's a long story.” A small mote of alarm crept into Twilight's chest, spoiling the moment. “Where's Dash?”

Spike shook his head. “She's not here.” He wiggled a bit, loosening Twilight's grip so he could look back over his shoulder. “I mean, she isn't there.” He pointed back through the glowing portal to the blank sea beyond.

“What do you mean, she isn't there? We used a scrying spell and saw you both together! Where is she?”

“Once Dash didn't have to keep my head above water and I burped up those floaties, she was able to get herself airborne. Then she said she was going to find you guys herself.” He held up a pouch draped around his neck. “She was exhausted, but she left me the provisions. And the flare gun. We had no idea you were going to try a portal, honest!”

Twilight's face scrunched, trying to express love and dismay at the same time. She sighed and hugged Spike to her chest one more time. But she jumped as another cluster of detonations seemed to shatter the sky above, and the light of day strobed through the entire spectrum of colors to black. Immediately, a rippling series of ka-chunks swept the airship, ending with an exposed section of the bridge being impaled with a few dozen shards of ice as long as Twilight's foreleg. It was only thanks to the threat of the gray creatures crawling through the breach that nobody was close enough to the edge to be killed that way.

Spike winced, his pupils dilated with fear. “We need the Elements, don't we?” He asked.

As sunlight returned, Pinkie Pie walked up and swept Spike into a dusty, ash-covered and bittersweet embrace of her own. Twilight locked eyes with her, and Pinkie nodded her understanding. “We'll watch over him.” Pinkie said. “Go. Help them.”

Twilight gulped. Maybe I can convince Spike to go back through the gate. It's safer there. A second thought chased the first away. Why? So he can starve or drown instead of being blown up or impaled? With a heavy sigh and an effort of will, she closed the gate. Hiding couldn't save any of them for long. “Keep your heads down, don't draw attention to yourselves or the ship. I love you, Spike. I love all of you.” Rarity grimaced, fighting back tears. Applejack reached up to take her hat off, only to find it missing again. Pinkie just blinked her wide, blue eyes. Spike reached for her, opening his mouth to speak.

In a purple flash, Twilight disappeared before she heard what he'd intended to say.

Twilight appeared, levitating herself with a spell above the flight deck and blinking her dry eyes beneath the harsh glare of the sun. She failed to see a safe spot to stand though, since the airship below her looked for all the world like a massive frozen porcupine. As did vast stretches of beach in both directions. Once Twilight's pupils shrank and the glare had receded from her vision, she looked up.

Celestia and Luna flew side by side as they fought, their manes ablaze with eldritch magic. They flowed seamlessly around one another, blocking and counter-striking for one another with fluid ease. Three black orbs humming with energy curved through the air, and Celestia deflected two of them with a convex shield, directing the resulting explosions away from her sister. The third she allowed past, and Luna caught it on her horn as though it was a wick for a flame. With a cry, Luna altered its color and flung it back towards its maker in a blaze of deepest blue.

Swift as thought, Luna swept in front of her sister and, with a rapid burst of telekinesis, demolished a neat row of what looked to be shards of glass flying towards them, sharp as razors. In a chattering pulse of magic, they became sand. Luna's swoop obscured their enemy's view of the spell Celestia was charging. From the tip of Celestia's horn arced a small river of white flame like a solar flare over her sister's head. Wincing from the heat despite being hundreds of feet below the spell, Twilight tracked the fire's trajectory.

She blinked. A thin black mist clung to the outside of a thick, pus-yellow bubble that seemed to moil and flow like oil upon water. It made her eyes hurt to try and follow its subtle movements. Celestia's sunfire poured onto those defenses, but the mist gathered high and dispersed the worst of the attack. The rest of the fire hit the yellow shield, causing it to ripple violently, but it absorbed every drop of heat like a sponge, swirling with white as it did.

Twilight steadied herself in the air and gathered her magic. She tried to remind herself not to hold back, that she needed to strike hard and fast, because she may not have the element of surprise again. She reached deep into herself, into the potential she knew she had and the loving friendships which had brought her this far. She tried to imagine herself on par with her immortal rulers, capable and worthy of standing with them. With the crown atop her head aglow with energy, Twilight struck.

As Celestia's attack ended, Twilight launched a massive strike from below, and Luna timed her onslaught to coincide with Twilight's, calling deep red lightning out of the clear sky above. The resulting detonation rattled Twilight's ears and forced her to shield her eyes. To her dismay, though, they scarcely seemed to make a dent. The yellow bubble had deformed, but not by much. And Twilight began to feel very, very small.

The black mist gathered to both sides, and light pulsed from deep within the shield, outlining the silhouette of the figure inside. Then a pair of thin black beams sizzled through the air, originating from the mist, and they cut towards Celestia and Luna.

Luna spun confidently out of their way, making no attempt to try and stop or deflect such a potent assault. Celestia simply vanished, teleporting elsewhere. But the attack had served its purpose, forcing the sisters to separate. In a flash, about half a dozen motes of blackness arced downward towards Twilight. Well, I got his attention. Oh crud, now what? Simultaneous attacks harried both Celestia and Luna, and with a start Twilight realized that she couldn't simply dodge or teleport herself to safety. The Vigil hovered below her, and the ship would be demolished if she didn't save them. Her heart stuttered as she drew up the best shield she could muster.

Twilight's best was pretty good. Celestia had taught her some advanced shielding before they'd hit the storm, and she managed to brace herself behind a deflection shield, its surface mirrored and shiny, before the attacks hit. Every tiny black star hit her shield at the same time and detonated, a muffled roar blanketing the world. Even though most of the heat and force reflected upwards, the potent darkness at their core shattered her shield, and Twilight lost her hold on her magic.

Twilight blinked her eyes open to see the airship rushing up to meet her presenting a forest of slowly melting ice shards filling her vision and she panicked and focused a blast of telekinesis at the deck below her shattering the ice just before she hit the deck with a wet and painful thud.

She pushed herself up onto her knees amidst the frozen slush and dented wood, eventually standing upright on shaking legs. Twilight wondered briefly what it would feel like to go into shock, knowing full well she didn't have that luxury. Above her, the fight was nearing its end. Celestia appeared scuffed and singed, her efforts now entirely defensive. Luna was dripping blood down one wing, her movements no longer sharp and liquid. Teryn, however, seemed untouched, and he successfully kept the two sisters separated, forcing them to attack from different angles.

He was winning.

Twilight had barely been enough of a distraction to warrant his attention, and she had nearly died for the effort. He was unlikely to leave her alive if she actually managed to pose some sort of threat to him. She knew that. She knew that deep in her bones. But nothing changed what she needed to do. And Celestia and Luna, fighting for their lives, were buying her just a little time. She took a deep breath and centered herself.

Twilight made herself a sword. A glowing, ephemeral construct of magic and will, she conjured into existence a long, straight sword like the ones she'd seen in the Canterlot Museum of History. Twilight could never have lifted one properly with her teeth, but she had no trouble wielding this one with her mind. Hmmm. . . Twilight scanned the deck. Focusing on a bent and twisted section of the guardrail, she tore a long section of steel loose and brought that to hover in front of her as well.

Twilight was scared. She felt tired, hungry and afraid. If she'd had any choice in the matter, she would have gone home then and there. It was only the safety of those she loved that bereft her of any choice she might have had.

Yet. . . deep down. . . there was a small part of her that was not afraid. A part of her that yearned to be tested. A part of her that felt that sometimes retribution was a justifiable response to malicious intent. A part of her that Fluttershy had identified and condemned and, eventually, forgave. A part of her that would enact violence gladly for the sake of her friends. That part of Twilight pulled the corner of her mouth up in a small smile as her form burst into light and she launched herself like a missile towards the nebulous threat above.

But the airship was still in the line of fire, so Twilight took no chances. The moment she was in motion the light of her horn brightened and she vanished. She emerged from the teleport almost directly beneath Teryn's shield. The black mist gathered before her, but she slashed her weapons through the dense fog and it dispersed a little, granting her a clear view of the sickly pale shield beneath.

She plunged both of her weapons into the orb of slime and they stuck as though it was wet sand or cold butter. She linked a spell through the two weapons as the mist closed about her and energy gathered nearby for an attack. But Twilight was prepared. She teleported again, leaving her instruments behind. This time she teleported to the far side of her opponent, appearing in clean air and bright sunlight. Then she triggered her spell, pulsing her magic through her weapons and into the shield's defenses. The yellow orb disintegrated into separate blobs of energy and fell into the sea. For a moment, Twilight felt a wave of elation, as though she'd aced a difficult test. But then her smile faded.

Below her spread the wings of a dark god. The air itself shimmered and bent around his onyx limbs. Faint patterns like fire trails twined about his body, forming indecipherable, shifting runes. His long horn trailed afterimages of darkness smudging their way across Twilight's vision. And the hard marbles of his eyes exerted a gravity of their own, giving Twilight the sensation she was being pulled into them.

He locked those soulless eyes on Twilight without blinking. Different magical assaults arced in from the alicorn sisters from different directions, but Teryn deflected them both away without looking by sort of bending the attacks around him. Or maybe by bending the shape of the physical space they traveled through. He opened his mouth to utter some form of destruction towards the purple unicorn sheathed in magic hovering above him.

Until a spinning chunk of guardrail slammed against the back of his head.

Twilight's weapons spun to her sides and she brandished them menacingly, looping them through independent patterns above her left and right shoulders. Twilight's ability to juggle multiple telekinetic movements at the same time was a point of pride, so she took that moment to marshal her courage by showing off just a little bit.

Teryn's brow furrowed, and he motioned her forward with a hoof. Twilight obliged by flinging herself forward, spinning her weapons to deflect a pair of strikes, firing a few shots of her own as she closed the distance, and adjusting her trajectory to dodge a blast from Luna that Teryn curved toward her with a hoof. With all of her telekinetic weight behind it, Twilight swung her sword through a vicious arc, somewhat surprised that Teryn made no move to evade her.

The impact shook Twilight deeply, jarring her mind as though she'd swung her weapon at a mountain. Teryn had blocked the edge of the sword with a negligent hoof, and the magic holding it together shattered. Without hesitation, Twilight swung the guardrail from the other direction and it deformed across the alicorn's face. He scarcely moved. He just reached a hoof forward delicately, so Twilight threw up a shield in panic but she felt a white-hot pain flare through her mind anyway, and it was mirrored in her chest. Twilight glanced down to find a small hole in her sternum and a little blood.

It's fine. Twilight thought as her heartbeat rocketed upwards. I'm fine! It doesn't even hurt that much. This is not over! Twilight kicked out with a hoof once, twice, adding the force of her magic to the blow.

Just taking the hits as though she were as weak as a kitten, he reached forward again and plucked the crown from atop her head. Within his grasp, the Element of Magic crumbled into ashes and blew away on the breeze. He smiled then, and Twilight felt a deep chill follow the burning pain in her chest.

Twilight panted hard. Why was she having so much trouble breathing? She felt naked after having worn her Element for so long and then having it taken away so suddenly. How could he destroy Magic so. . . so easily? That's not possible, is it? And it was somehow worse with her blood spreading through her coat; she just felt so exposed and weak. She tried to hit Teryn again, but Luna had appeared at her side and attacked him with abandon, forcing her opponent to blink away.

Then she was in Celestia's arms. The Princess of the Sun seemed upset, and she made a big fuss examining Twilight's wound. “It's not a big deal.” Twilight muttered, swatting Celesta's hoof away. “I'm fine.” Although there was quite a lot of blood by now. Maybe some pressure on the wound would be a good idea. Twilight pressed a hoof to her chest and tried looking around for the fight. But Celesta wouldn't let her go. The Princess was breathing hard, and her eyes shone with ferocity.

Then Twilight's vision dimmed a little, and a sharp CRACK resounded from one horizon to the other. And in a blink Teryn hovered before them, alone. Luna was nowhere to be seen. “Don't do this, brother.” Celestia begged, panting.

He began to gesture, but Twilight couldn't see what he'd intended because Celestia had turned her back on him. Then the world behind Twilight exploded with light and ice and pain, and Celestia screamed in her ear. Together, they fell from the sky.

25: Into the Fire

The world went away for a little bit, and Twilight felt an odd sensation, as though she wasn't alone inside her own head. As strange as her week had been, Twilight really thought she should have been getting used to the feeling.

What do you cherish most? She thought she heard. Her mind drifted gently back to the life she'd lived. The family she missed more than she'd ever said out loud. But mostly she thought about the friends she'd made. Spike and Dash and AJ and Pinkie and Rarity and Fluttershy. Those faces honestly meant everything to her.

Twilight felt something shift, as though the world had fallen out from under her.

Then she plunged into cold water. Twilight surfaced, stifling a scream. The fire had returned in her chest as the salt water made every exposed nerve in her wound burn and sting horribly. She flung her mane out of her eyes and looked for something to pull herself onto. There was something floating in front of her so Twilight put her hooves on it before noticing that it was Celestia's limp body and she yelped and fell backwards with a little splash.

Twilight began to cry then, a small and undignified set of sobs that had as much to do with shock and physical pain and helplessness as it did with sorrow. Twilight felt another sensation though, deeper than the exquisite pain of her injury. Twilight felt a thrumming core of raw power. Celestia's power. She had somehow passed on her immortal strength to her student, and Twilight could not find the beginning nor the end of her grief. It was far, far too large. So she just tried her best to hold Celestia's head above water, but with her own movements and the red haze of pain across her vision and her sobbing, Twilight couldn't tell if her mentor was breathing or not.

Then Teryn appeared, hovering above the ocean and glaring down his muzzle at her. He was clearly surprised and displeased to find her still alive. As Twilight gasped and cried and tried to tread water as best she could while cradling Celestia's head protectively in her arms, she also just stared at the black tendril of energy that congealed out of thin air and stretched towards her.

In haste, Twilight put up a thick shield, the power flowing through her horn. But the oily-looking tendril simply laid itself across part of the violet dome and squeezed, cracking the shield easily and then oozing through the opening it had made. Twilight hoped that the end would be swift, but really she was in too much pain to care one way or another. She almost felt disappointed when the dark coil stopped an inch from her nose, and the god of death turned to look across the water.

A silent ring of rainbow colors expanded upwards from a point in the west, and a small, blue speck on the horizon resolved itself into the form of a pegasus. Rainbow Dash sped just above the water with dizzying speed, closing the distance between herself and the dark creature threatening Twilight with the red jewel at her throat aglow. The wake of her passing kicked up an impressive white spume of water that arced high into the air behind her.

Teryn frowned and lifted a hoof towards Twilight's friend. No! Not her, me! KILL ME!!! Twilight tried to gasp out a challenge, but she couldn't possibly have yelled loudly enough to make a difference. She gathered energy for a spell instead, but she noticed a faint shimmer in the air behind Teryn's head and it broke her concentration. It looked a little bit like the distortion caused by a veil.

As Rainbow Dash, her face twisted into a snarl, arrowed towards the dark alicorn, a changeling appeared out of thin air just behind Teryn holding a small stone knife which it plunged between the creature's shoulder blades. Teryn reared back in pain, and just at that moment Dash extended her front hooves and hit Teryn in the chest with a resounding crunch and all three of them were gone. Twilight turned to look in time to see all three of them impact the shore. Dash! Without a second thought, she teleported herself and the body of her mentor in that direction.

They appeared on the sand, and Twilight felt a moment of surprise at how easy the spell had been to cast. She was used to working hard and exerting herself to get anything done magically, and the lack of strain put her a bit off-balance. For that matter, shouldn't I be dead? She wondered frantically. Maybe it was Celestia's immortal power urging her heart on when it should have stopped. And why isn't she moving?!?

For a helpless moment, Twilight just tried in vain to arrange Celestia's limbs into something more comfortable. But the alicorn refused to help. She wouldn't even breathe for herself. Twilight's eyes misted over in frustration. But when she spotted movement out of the corner of her eye, she turned and flung herself away from her own helplessness. The dark alicorn, the changeling and Dash were lying in the sand and she stumbled towards them, unsure who she was more frantic and powerless to help. She stumbled badly, and fell. Okay. Twilight conceded to herself. Maybe I'm off-balance from blood loss, or something.

Twilight's vision blurred again, and when it cleared Teryn was back in the air, snapping the stone dagger in half with his hooves. He threw the pieces into the sand and made a clawing gesture towards the pegasus and the changeling. They were still dazed, and at Teryn's gesture the twining shadows of the cursed land began to creep out onto the sand, reaching for the pair.

There was no time. And the Element of Magic had been destroyed. But, just like in the hive forever ago, Twilight reached out with her senses anyways, hoping against hope to link the distant Elements of Harmony together.

Once again, it was easy. Easier than it should have been. Celestia had been trying to tell her this all along, hadn't she? She didn't need the crown she'd worn for so long. Perhaps she never did. The Element of Magic was a part of her, and she lived and breathed it through every fiber of her being. The light from Twilight's horn condensed itself into a shimmering amethyst star, and when she blinked, her eyes became flat disks of light.

The Elements had been reunited. Despite the Vigil's distance, she felt as though all of her friends were there by her side. No, they were actually there, physically, hovering next to her in perfect formation. She felt their sorrow, their love, their support and the strength they shared with one another. They eased her pain, refusing to let her shoulder it all alone. Far more impressively, Twilight let them. She leaned upon her friends and trusted them to bear her up, like she should have from the beginning. With a thought, Fluttershy took a portion of the power they shared and threaded it through the six of them, restoring their physical selves. The small hole in Twilight's chest closed, and between one heartbeat and the next she was whole, her pulse steady once again.

Surrounded by her friends Twilight lifted into the air, her form shedding every known color of light. There was no elation this time. Too much had been lost, sacrificed on this mad journey to confront the disease spread across this side of the world. It was with a heavy heart that Twilight unleashed their power, surrounding the insane alicorn with a tidal wave of energy. He was too dangerous to allow him freedom. Perhaps, encased in stone, he would be unable to harm another soul ever again.

But something was wrong. Something was off. An unfamiliar feeling of resistance interrupted Twilight's thoughts. Darkness gathered, and with a deep cry that shook the shore from one horizon to the other, Teryn shattered Twilight's spell before it could take hold. Harmonic energy exploded outward, flooding her senses with a haze of white noise. When the magic had dispersed, Twilight was shocked to find her opponent hovering before her, the air around him crackling with dark energy. Enough dark energy to resist the combined might of the Elements of Harmony, it would seem.

Of course. Twilight could see it all, as clear as words on a page. The shadows of these cursed lands were alive; not self-aware, no, but certainly alive. They were living embodiments of old rage, loss, despite, bitterness and scorn. And it was old, ancient beyond knowing. Old enough to make the ocean and the sky and the bedrock deep below seem positively young. Of course this was the well where Teryn's seemingly boundless magic sprang from. The entire corrupted continent was fuel for his dark energy.

Now the six of them had the power to cleanse it. They could grasp the magical ties which bound the darkness to the rocks and plants and creatures of this land, and they could sever them. These six ponies understood health and harmony, and they could use that understanding to root out the corruption dwelling here and wash it away in a cascade of light. With the Elements by her side, Twilight reached towards the Darkness.

Teryn mirrored the gesture and the fabric of existence twisted a little, preventing Twilight from touching the seething mass of shadows. Then the sky darkened as he called down a beam of light, focusing the sun's might entirely upon the purple unicorn. Despite the power coursing through her, Twilight's fur began to singe. So, with another thought, Twilight reached for the water at her side, levitating a massive blob of cold ocean towards herself. She plunged into the perfectly-shaped orb, cooling herself as she used the water to bend and refract the light towards her enemy. Instantly, smoke began to rise from his form, and the skies lightened as he stopped his attack.

This had to end now. Twilight unleashed a direct attack, hoping to force her way past Teryn's defenses to undo the corruption in his soul. He met the might of the Elements squarely with his own power, unafraid to pit himself against the river of magic arcing towards him. For a moment, the conflict scoured sand from the beach and vaporized the very air as the two powers met. But the impasse did not last long. The boiling darkness overtook the rainbow of light and six ponies were struck to the ground.

The connection between the Elements severed and their power vanished, leaving Twilight collapsed upon hot, uneven bedrock. Ocean water steamed a little as it swirled up around her hooves and drained away. Emptiness replaced the connection she'd shared with her friends, leaving her feeling hollow and abandoned. The Elements. . . They failed. . . As the dark immortal hovered into view, Twilight involuntarily tried to scramble backward, getting nowhere.

His mouth opened. “You are dangerous in your way.” He said, his voice muffled and distant. Was that a complement? “Trust me. I can give you a better death than the one which awaits us all.” He lifted his hoof towards her, a gesture which might have been an offer of aid from anyone else.

Twilight plucked at the fur around her neck, holding up a small silver trinket in her hoof like an offering. It was a small wrench, amateur jewelry made with love for a unicorn who was now buried on an island along desolate shores. A trinket Twilight had stolen while overcome with the need to understand the death she still felt somehow responsible for. And she held it up before this avatar of the void like an accusation, a symbol for everything she had lost on this journey.

A trinket made from a shard of turbine blade which even now rested at the bottom of the sea. And Twilight had been mentally preparing her spell since the moment the Elements had failed. When a small, perfect disk of energy appeared over the necklace, she was once again surprised by the ease with which the magic came to her. As jagged black bolts of lightning shot down Teryn's fetlock, he snarled in rage as he grasped too late Twilight's final ploy. His energy struck her spell, tearing open a portal to the depths of the ocean.

Twilight had been scientifically aware of the change in pressure associated with water depth, but she was entirely ignorant of just how deep the unexplored sea was. From Twilight's portal erupted a geyser so violent it seemed itself a cataclysm. A white column of force replaced the hovering alicorn, the water spuming instantly to spray and mist around the edges. Teryn had, surprisingly, held for a moment against the incredible force, but the moving water eroded his hold on his magic and flung him far into the blackness of the land beyond the shore.

Even behind the portal, Twilight felt like she was breathing straight seawater. The instant mist soaked her tail to crest, and the roar drowned out all other possible sounds. But she didn't dare close the gate yet. Teryn was too strong. He would return in moments and finish them all. Harmony had failed, and Twilight knew nothing stronger in all the world. Her little trick with the portal had only bought her time.

Then it began to dawn upon her, the knowledge of what she must do slowly washing over her gasping, shivering body, adding to her chills. She glanced guiltily at her five friends, still sprawled along the beach behind her. She wondered what they would say if they could read her mind now. Princess Luna's advice or warning echoed back through her thoughts. ”Our sister, she blamed the Darkness for our dalliance with the essence of nightmare. She. . . she is yet mistaken on that score.” Of course. There was a much greater source of power right at her hooves, and the doorway to it had been deep inside her all along.

There was no external corruption involved. Luna's descent a thousand years ago had only required that she give in to her darker emotions. No wonder Princess Celestia had worked so hard to preserve her student from facing this eventual truth. But the potential cost stole her breath further, leaving her gasping on her knees. If Twilight gave in to the darkness inside her, even if she could prevail. . . might her friends have to stand against her one day?

It doesn't matter. She realized. I would die for my friends. And I guess that means I would give up my soul for them too.

Twilight took a moment to relax her mind, to lower the defenses she'd put up inside herself so long ago she'd forgotten they were there. From the moment she'd earned her cutie mark by losing control of her magic and nearly killing everyone in the room with her, including her parents, Twilight had been terrified of herself. Her obsession with study and her compulsory attention to details was easily understood. But for this moment, she let that go. She let everything go.

Twilight searched within herself for a mote of rage. She didn't have to look far. She found a wellspring of righteous anger alongside rivers of grief and loss. And beneath that she found bitterness. And beneath that? Ah, there it is.

Hate.

Twilight's brow furrowed, and darkness began to coalesce in her eyes. Without an ounce of reservation, she walked up to the shifting, hungry shadows crowding against the shore and stepped into them.

Space distorted, twisting and untwisting and producing the form of a drenched earth-toned alicorn. He looked around calmly, studying the stretch of beach before him. The gate and its massive jet of water was a little distracting, so he clawed the portal out of existence with a curt gesture. As the roar died and the last drops of ocean settled, Teryn took in the swath of land which had been scrubbed clean of his master's curse. Scrubbed clean and now speckled with a variety of strange sea creatures, some wriggling and gasping, others already dead.

He frowned. This was a negligible speck taken from the power base he drew from, but it was still unacceptable. Celestia's little filly had proven more resourceful than he'd anticipated. More resourceful than she had been, certainly. He scanned the world before him, but he could no longer sense Twilight Sparkle.

Over there was the cluster of unconscious ponies who wielded the Elements, but they were scarcely a real threat even when they were alert. Then there was the pesky changeling, cowering now behind a flimsy veil. It was injured, and, knowing what to look for, Teryn wouldn't be fooled again. The smudge of its weak magic was easy to spot now. This was clearly Chrysalis's play. He'd been expecting better from her, actually. Such a disappointment.

But the unicorn. The purple one. Where had she gone? He couldn't taste her magic anywhere. Perhaps she fled for her life. Teryn smiled a little. It wouldn't be like one of his sister's pupils to exercise such prudence and wisdom.

Considering wisdom and the severe lack of it, Teryn pondered the whirring craft his sisters had traveled on. It was, even now, limping its way through the air towards the shore, as though it sought to rescue whomever was left. This was good. Little Twilight was not using it to try and escape after all. Perhaps she was attempting to pilot the airship into him, hoping to kill him that way. That would be amusing.

Instead of killing anyone, he walked over to his sister's body to ponder her passing for a moment. He studied Celestia's broken form, her white coat damp and speckled with sand. Her mane and tail no longer flowing on ethereal breezes, it appeared as simple strands of pastel hair. It was a look that suited her so much better than the royal princess thing she had going on for so long.

Death also suited her, he thought. This restful state was so much more preferable to the icon of righteousness she'd tried so hard to become. Using her immortality and power to conquer a nation of ponies, and then brainwashing and molding them into parodies of themselves, unable to act out of perfectly normal emotions like anger and jealousy and pain? Her idea of harmony was a sham, and it was finally at an end. Not that it would matter in a few weeks.

He would spend more time pondering her death later. There were other lives to end. He blinked through space towards the discarded ponies, appearing next to the white one. The only other unicorn in their little group. He lifted her up into the air by her horn, allowing her to dangle uselessly from his grip. She blinked awake, moaning dazedly as her eyes tried to focus. He reached for the gem at her throat.

“I will tear you apart.”

Twilight's voice, menacing but soft, only stopped his hoof because it was unexpected. He hadn't felt her approach. Turning, he regarded the source of the sound. Standing within the edge of the curse was a black mare, tendrils of shadow curling lovingly about her form. Her long, purple mane wafted gently, evoking the beautiful colors that bear witness to the death of each day. The air about her buzzed with power, and the ground deformed at her hooves.

Teryn was late to realize his mistake. He had counted on being connected to the Darkness, that he might draw his power from it. He'd only suspected his sister Luna of having the courage to touch this kind of magic, and she had eventually fled from its seductive embrace in fear for her soul. And now Celestia's innocent little protege. . .

It mattered little now. Teryn dropped the white unicorn unceremoniously to the beach and sized up the distance between himself and the land, wondering how swiftly he could tap back into its power.

Rarity felt weak. She hardly had the strength to cry out at the beastly alicorn who had been menacing her friends. Which was a legitimate tragedy, as Rarity prided herself in having a singular and convincing distress scream. Several of them, actually. And this seemed the perfect opportunity to debut her latest, if she could simply draw an adequate breath.

Yet the brute was no longer even looking at her. She followed his gaze inland and. . . Oh. Oh my, no. Is. . . is that Nightmare Moon? A truly dramatic scream was more than called for, if she could just find her voice. What was their old foe doing here, so far from Equestria? And she appeared smaller than rarity remembered, not that her memories of that harried night were without flaw, but. . .

Before Rarity could register the movement, the two horrible creatures had clashed right before her, trading blows both magical and physical not three paces from where she sprawled. Ringing impacts filled her ears and detonations played havoc with her poor mane. Rarity scrabbled backwards through the sand, finding the first body she came across and shaking it. “Applejack,” She rasped, her throat clearly suffering some sort of malfunction. Not that it mattered. She wouldn't even be able to hear herself over the sounds of combat. She stilled her breathing and drew in a proper breath for a simply bloodcurdling shriek.

Bodies stirred around her, but Rarity had gone quite still. Between flashes of utter darkness and flecks of light like horrible fireworks, she had caught a glimpse of fiercely intelligent violet eyes. And there, an achingly familiar cutie mark. . . .Twilight?

Her scream died in her throat.

For Twilight, the sensation of power was incredible. Indescribable. It was absolutely liberating; the simultaneous freedom from the emotional restraints she'd forced herself to labor under her whole life, coupled with the fulfillment of her life's work to be effective, to be capable of great things. Here, on this side of the world, simply giving in to the rage and pain she'd been suffering under for so long made her unstoppable. It was a visceral thrill that charged every corner of Twilight's body with a primal ecstasy.

Finally, she had the strength to make her choices really matter. Finally, she had the strength to stand against those who might hurt her and take away those she loved. Celestia had been afraid of this power, and maybe she was right to be. Twilight knew she would never truly be the same again. This much magic, this much freedom, was instantly addicting. No more fear. No more hesitation. No more worry that she couldn't defend those she loved. No more suffering for those who didn't deserve it.

And she would be able to bring that suffering where it was deserved.

Twilight moved like lightning and struck like a wrecking ball. Had the ancient alicorn been left with the opportunity to conjoin once again with the Dark, their battle might have been long and glorious. As it was, Twilight felt cheated. She had armed herself for war and found herself stepping on a dragonfly. Her connection with the Darkness allowed her the chance to deny Teryn that same power, and she denied him with extreme prejudice. She demolished his constructs, shrugged off his spells, flattened him to the ground and lashed him there with thick, icy tentacles of power. He was left gasping and weak, just as he had left her.

Twilight grasped his head with her magic. Just his head. A simple telekinesis spell. His calm acceptance impressed her. He didn't cry out or plead. He didn't demean himself in any way. He simply kept his eyes locked on hers and set his neck muscles against the twist of her magic.

Twilight heard voices, voices of friends pleading with her. Begging her to stop. That it didn't have to end this way. Rainbow Dash appeared at her side, unable to stand easily but still trying to talk Twilight down from what she had to do. Are you insane? She thought. He would murder us all in a heartbeat! In a flash, Twilight's rage leapt like wildfire from her enemy to her friends. Don't they understand what I had to give up to save us here today!?! I'm doing this for THEM!!! Because I can't stand to let anything happen to THEM! Are they BLIND?

Twilight forced her focus back to the real problem. She had an almost all-powerful murderer trapped before her hooves, and it seemed as though her friends wanted her to spare his life. But Twilight knew full well they couldn't afford that. And it seemed like nopony else was willing to get their hooves dirty. Maybe they'll understand one day. Twilight steadied her will and twisted, and there was a sound like the snapping of green, living wood. Then it was over.

It may have been the sound of Fluttershy crying that finally drew Twilight's attention, and she turned her head. Her friends had clustered around one another for support, giving her a wide berth. Twilight felt a moment of confusion. “You know I had to. Why are you all. . .” She let her voice trail off because it didn't sound quite right. It sounded hollow. She looked down, noticing for the first time the sleek black of her coat.

This was no surprise. Of course her friends would see her as some sort of evil nightmare. Even though they had been there with her when the Elements had been overpowered. They had shared her anguish. They must have known what her choices were. They had to understand, they simply had to.

Fluttershy was inconsolable, sobbing heavily. Pinkie did her best to hold her, murmuring soft words while she rocked back and forth. Twilight reached forward a comforting hoof but Rainbow Dash placed herself protectively between her and her friends and glared a challenge from under her spiked mane. Twilight's small, surprised hurt warred for a moment with a giddy realization that she could probably out-race Dash if she needed to. There was just so much power here.

“Twilight. . .” Applejack looked as though she could really use a nice, broad hat to take off her head and fiddle with. “If'n you're in there, y'all can come out now. We miss ya, filly.”

“It's still me.” The odd hollow reverberation in her voice made it sound like a lie. “I'm still me.” She wanted to explain that the pale ones were still crawling about in the Dark, and it was only the presence of her power that kept them at bay, but a deep whirring drew her attention behind her. Aether's Vigil touched down gently on the beach, kicking up plumes of sand. From a couple of pony-lengths up, a beak peeked out from over broken shards of glass.

It was Kelbrri. “Hey, I think they'rrre okay!” She called back over her shoulder. Then she did a bit of a double-take, shielding her eyes from the sun. “Twilight? Is that you?”

Twilight nodded, wondering why it wasn't obvious. Did she really look so different? She wished she had a mirror.

“And you found the changeling!” Kelbrri continued.

It was Twilight's turn to double-take, as she hadn't seen the insect crawl into their midst, dragging itself through the sand and collapsing. Rainbow Dash's face brightened considerably. “Hey, you're the one who helped me tag-team that big ugly and save Twi's hide, right? Where'd you come from?”

The changeling smiled, although it was mostly in its eyes. It's voice buzzed as it spoke. “Yeah. We make a pretty good team, Dasher.”

Rainbow's eyes grew wide. “Pin Feather?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Twilight glimpsed a magenta blob falling to the sand next to her. Sun Shade picked herself up on three hooves and limped forward. She was carrying something in her teeth, but Twilight couldn't quite see what it was.

“Sun Shade?” Pinkie's voice sounded tiny.

Dash reached out a hoof. “Easy there, don't. . .” But the earth pony shoved Dash away with her good arm.

She stopped before the changeling. Trembling, she pulled the hammer out of her mouth and lifted it into the air. “Where is he?” She asked.

The changeling hesitated, glancing around nervously. He held up a pocked and shiny leg in a warding gesture, as though he expected any answer he gave to provoke violence.

“What have you done with him?!?”

The changeling cringed. “He's. . . he's not. . . The gryphon you know as Pin Feather, he died. A. . .”

Sun Shade brought the hammer down with a cry, but the impact ended against a sky-blue hoof. Rainbow had put herself in the way, defending the changeling in the blink of an eye.

Shade's features twisted in incomprehension. Twilight's magic intervened, hoisting Sun Shade into the air. “Stop this.” She commanded. “Let him speak.”

The changeling trembled, but he continued bravely. “He died a long time ago. He was sickly, small. Had been since birth. He died in a hospital, from respiratory complications. We pulled the switch there. His parents never knew he. . . that he ever died.” At some point, Sun Shade had begun shaking her head in denial. Yet the buzzing voice droned on. “I have been Pin Feather ever since. You. . . you never knew the first one. It was always me.”

“No.” The word was barely understandable, twisted as it was by Shade's crying. “No no no no no, you can't be. You can't be.”

Twilight dragged Shade closer to her, to look her in the eye. “Don't you get it?” She asked, “The changelings were never our enemy in this. Chrysalis needed us to succeed, or else the Darkness would have endangered her and her children, too. Pin Feather here was sent to ensure we would win. That we would survive. Right?”

The changeling nodded.

“That makes no sense.” Rarity said. “Why then would they nab the Elements and drag them into a smelly hive and entrap us all? That left me feeling somewhat antagonistic, wouldn't you say?”

Applejack had an answer. “Well, maybe um, Cinder or whatever was actin' on his own? Maybe the Queen had different plans?”

Twilight shook her head no while the changeling answered. “Being waylaid was part of the plan.” He buzzed. “Our glorious Queen Chrysalis knew that both Luna and Celestia would be needed to confront this evil. So she laid plans to delay our departure until Luna could hear of the train accident and rush to her sister's aid.”

There was more. Twilight could tell there was more. But another question had formed in her mind, dislodging the first. “Where is Princess Luna?”

Another body landed beside her. “She is on boarrrd.” Kelbrri said very carefully. “She lives, but she does not do well.” The gryphon clacked her beak softly, her eyes locked upon the hovering earth pony. “Would you please put my friend down?”

Twilight noticed that she still held Sun Shade in the grip of her magic. And the pony was crying, unable to come to grips with any of it. For just a tiny moment, for just an eensy speck of time, Twilight felt the urge to shake the defenseless pony in frustration. She wanted to force Sun Shade to accept the truth, as difficult as it may be. But a larger part of her knew she was wrong to feel this way. Twilight's own rationality was leaving no room for the emotional reactions of others. Of course Sun Shade would be upset. It was okay. Twilight tried to remind herself that it wasn't her place to change the minds and wills of others.

With a sigh, she set the pony down. Kelbrri plucked the hammer out of Shade's good hoof and draped a comforting arm over the shaking mare.

Twilight's heart went out to her, and for the first time she felt the urge to let go of the power she held. Rainbow Dash, seeing no further threat from Shade, began eying the awful shadows of the shore. “Maybe we shouldn't, like, hang ar. . .” The entire group vanished as Twilight teleported them all onto the bridge above.

She turned her back on the airship and walked away down the beach, coming to a stop in front of Celestia's body. The rising tide had begun to play with the alicorn's tail, and Twilight felt a hard lump forming low in her throat. Maybe it's better this way. She thought semi-hysterically. She never had to see what I've become, what I'm capable of. The thought of Celestia's disappointment was too much, and Twilight lost her self-control.

Twilight had brought Celestia's body aboard the Vigil, but she didn't remember doing it. Her friends had found her on the pocked and slushy upper flight deck, looking like herself again. She'd been curled between Celestia's front hooves, nuzzled beneath the weight of her head and neck. For hours she wouldn't let anyone move her. Twilight didn't remember much of that, either. But her friends never left her alone. Spike curled up next to her at some point, wrapping his scaly arms about her. Someone tried to bring her food, possibly Rarity, but despite her ravenous hunger she couldn't bring herself to care. She just lay still and did her best to keep breathing through the pain while her eyes streamed tears into the fur on her cheeks.

The life Twilight knew was gone. Her mentor, her studies, her innocence, all of it. This world? She didn't know this world at all.

Ponies and gryphons came and went, paying their respects beneath the heat of the afternoon sun. She may have slept, she may not have, it was difficult to tell through the haze of her exhaustion. But as the sun dipped towards the horizon, moving aside for the onset of twilight, a ringing set of hoof-falls in an irregular cadence caught the unicorn's attention. She turned her head a little, careful not to dislodge or disrupt Spike sleeping beside her. Nearby, Applejack stirred as well, her straw-yellow mane catching the last vestiges of sunlight as she opened her eyes.

Princess Luna limped into view, her peytral and hoof-shods showing the deep gouges and scars her physical self no longer bore. Yet her stride betrayed some deeper affliction, and she dragged one wing uselessly. She avoided looking towards Twilight or her sister, choosing instead to limp towards the nose of the ship, stopping at the very edge of the massive chunk her brother had torn out of it.

She stood, and she stared at the tiny piece of sun that hadn't yet set behind the horizon. Her horn began to glow with a gentle light. Minutes passed before Twilight realized the princess had stopped the sun from setting completely, leaving the last orange rays of this fateful day glinting off of the ship's many grievous wounds.

A few minutes more, and it occurred to Twilight. Luna was grieving, in her way. She did not want to end the day and raise the moon. This day was the last day she'd had family alive beside her. For a while Twilight forgot her own pain to marvel at the depth of Luna's. She'd been reunited with her sister for a pair of short years, only to lose her completely.

In a flash Twilight caught her mistake. Luna hadn't lost one sibling. . . She'd lost two. It didn't matter that Teryn had been breathtakingly dangerous and deeply disturbed; he'd been family once. And Twilight had executed him. It hadn't even been a difficult decision. A fresh stab of self-loathing joined the deep pain in her chest. She stared at her trembling hooves until they became violet blurs in her vision. She wondered if she'd ever be able to look in a mirror again. An orange hoof joined hers, sharing the moment, and Twilight buried her face against the rough wood beneath her.

Time became vague and meaningless for awhile, so Twilight was surprised when the light vanished, and the pale face of the moon finally rose into the velvet of dusk. Luna stared a while longer at the place in the sky where the sun had once been, then she turned with heavy tread towards the cluster of bodies.

Twilight watched her approach with wide eyes, unable to find the strength or conviction to speak. At first, Luna didn't speak either. Her cyan eyes shone in the moonlight. Twilight had expected to see grief, anger, pain, any of those things. She had not expected to see confusion or awe alongside the loss. Twilight shifted, noticing for the first time that something had changed. The soft, yielding fur she'd been curled against had hardened. The head that had rested atop her back no longer moved or shifted with her. Twilight wiggled free from the space where she'd lain.

Celestia's body had turned completely to stone. The statue of the regal alicorn looked restful, as though she hadn't been struck from the sky by dark magic and instead had curled up for a little nap around the space where a small pony would fit perfectly. Spike had blinked awake when Twilight had moved, and now his tired green eyes scrunched with incomprehension as he noticed the stone arm he was curled upon.

Luna placed a hoof on Twilight's shoulder, nodding somberly at the power she could feel in that contact. She spoke for the first time, her voice hoarse. “The gift. The sun's immortal power. It shines within thee.” There was no warmth in Luna's voice, but there was no accusation either, no blame. There was simply no warmth to be found anywhere within the desolation she must have felt. “Nurture this gift, young Twilight. Care for it. As my sister cared for thee.” The corners of Luna's eyes softened the slightest bit. “As I shall care for thee.”

“We all will.” Applejack added softly, joining them. “Care for thee. For you, I mean. We're. . . just glad you're back with us, sugarcube.” Spike agreed with her by waddling up and clasping his claws around Twilight's leg.

Pinkie Pie appeared in the hatchway, wearing her packs. Her gloomy expression brightened a shade when she noticed everyone standing together. In a pair of bounds Pinkie closed the distance between them. But instead of tackling, Pinkie stopped and offered Twilight a serious hug, giving her the room to refuse it. Wordless was generally the last adjective used to describe Pinkie Pie, but she stood and offered and hoped in silence.

Twilight accepted, leaning in without dislodging Spike. Applejack leaned in to her from the other side, and Twilight made a decision. She would try her best in this new, slightly colder world. She would live, and she would not waste Celestia's gift. She still had Spike to look out for. She still had her friends to look out for. Celestia would not have wanted her to give up, ever. When Pinkie reached into her pack and withdrew a pile of fresh daisies, Twilight took them gratefully. She ate, and they were perhaps the most delicious things she'd ever had in her entire life.

Princess Luna nodded her approval. “Tis well and prudent to regain thy strength. We. . . our task is not yet complete. This curse, it cannot be allowed to persist.”

Twilight's mouth was still full, but Pinkie spoke for her. “We can fix it.” Pinkie's mane had regained much of its bounce. “With the Elements of Harmony, we can clean up all of this goopy black evil stuff.” Twilight nodded her agreement.

“Well,” Applejack clarified, “At least we think we can. Boastin' before the deed is done is bad luck, I say.”

Luna nodded. “We had hoped the combined Elements might be the key. However, the danger is not past. The black heart of this curse still exists.”

“Right.” Applejack agreed. “Um, Vapor, or something?”

“Varkur.” Pinkie said seriously.

Twilight shook her head, swallowing. “That's not the name your. . . that Teryn used for it.”

Luna conceded with a nod. “He named the devourer of our homeland 'Yami.' Hmm, the very word leaves a foul taste in our mouth. Yet 'tis the first thing we truly know about this creature.”

“We have to find it, don't we?” Twilight asked. “We have to stop whatever it's doing. And soon.”

Princess Luna turned a haunted gaze to the landmass below. “Yes. We do.”

26: Chaos

Lyra Heartstrings staggered down the streets of Canterlot, alone. She ran as hard as she could until her legs began to shake, then she trotted unsteadily. She skirted around chunks of levitating pavement and streetlamps that continuously bowed to her in a playful manner, trying to find her way to the edge of the shield. In her desperation, Lyra hoped that maybe she could signal someone on the outside, tell them that Canterlot had fallen. Discord and Queen Chrysalis? And she was trapped in Canterlot with both of them? Perhaps now they would send word to Celestia, have her return from whatever mission she was on. Surely it couldn't be worse than this. Why didn't I leave with Bon Bon? What was I trying to prove? She couldn't even remember anymore.

Lyra crossed the street, leaping over a stream gouged at an angle through the cobblestones to stay far away from a trio of well-armed members of the guard. She tried hard not to notice that the guards were completely incapacitated by violent sneezing fits where a mixture of confetti and glitter shot out of their muzzles with every convulsion. She also tried not to notice the stream ran uphill. She kept her head down as she hoofed past a butter-yellow pegasus with a soft pink mane and dead eyes as they crossed paths.

She didn't want to know what was happening around her. She just wanted it to end, like the road she was running on. Looking up, Lyra found that she'd made it. The purple dome scooped out of the dark sky and buried itself into the ground just ahead. From the outside, slowly-shifting bands of light caressed, held and supported the substance of the shield itself. The beautiful panoply of colors only seemed to mock Lyra's distress. She stumbled to a stop, reared onto her hind legs and plastered herself against the curve of the dome.

She stopped as though she'd hit a wall, an uncomfortable vibration began trilling up to her elbows, reminding her forcefully of that time she'd touched a Pone de Graff generator in grade school. She half-expected her mane to stand on end. She ignored the sensation as she squinted hard, trying to make out shapes beyond the barrier.

Lyra spotted store fronts lining either side of the cobbled street. Beyond that were the low stone walls marking the edge of the city. There! Off to the side was a cluster of unicorns. Students from the university, probably. And one of them was focused on projecting a beam of light through a nearby crystal, splashing the refracted spectrum across the outside of the shield. But that was it. Oh, thank the sun. No floating buildings, no living statues, no random rivers. . . No obvious chaos at all.

The ponies noticed her immediately, gesturing in her direction and talking amongst themselves. One of them cantered up to her, her face lined with concern and outright fear. She spoke, and while no sound reached her, Lyra thought she made out the words Are you okay?

There was nothing they could do for her. They were enacting the one plan that had any chance whatsoever of containing Discord's madness, and there was no room in that plan for one mare's distress. She had intended to retain a hold on rationality, but she just couldn't stop herself. “Help us!” She screamed loud enough to make her own ears ring. “Please! In Celestia's name, help us!”

Something hit her in the flank and Lyra yelped and spun, tangling her hooves in surprise and stumbling to the ground in her haste to see what had grabbed her attention. Her eyes focused on a small foam dart, the kind foals might play with in a park or schoolyard. The sight of the harmless missile filled Lyra with a completely unreasonable dread. She tore her gaze upward to find a cluster of plush ponies, bears, wildcats, even a large stuffed timber wolf walking towards her. And they were all armed: foam crossbows and disc-launchers and squirt toys hopefully filled with water and. . . one of them seemed to be carrying a large foam axe.

The harmless nature of the armament did nothing to allay Lyra's terror. When she turned and bolted between the closest pair of buildings, she was actually running from their soulless black button eyes. Something about them spoke to a deep foalhood fear that Lyra could scarcely remember. The alley was dark, but she could see the glow of lights at the far end, urging her on. She ran hard, hoping to find some kind of hiding place the next street over.

She'd been deceived. The harmonic shield curved towards the edge of the far building as it opened into the next street, cutting off her exit. As she pushed herself between the cold brick and the humming shield, she only managed to squeeze one hoof through the gap into the space beyond. She couldn't possibly fit through. Gasping ragged breaths, she turned around. The alley had been crowded with the little demon toys, but they were no longer chasing her. They had clustered around the yellow pegasus she'd seen earlier, and they were fighting in the mouth of the alley. While the stuffed animals swung foam weapons and fired their foam arrows, the suddenly familiar pony stomped them flat with her hooves, spun and kicked and flipped through the air, occasionally pausing to rip some fluffy thing limb from limb with a cold ferocity. Isn't she from Ponyville?

Lyra gathered the shreds of courage still remaining to her and charged, lifting a plush pony into the air with her magical field and throwing it into the gutter. She reared next to a standing teddy bear and brought her hooves down, one hoof cracking the barrel of a squirt toy with a loud snap, and the other felt no impact at all as she squashed the soft, cute face into the cement. The plush arms wrapped around her foreleg and Lyra shuddered, backpedaling swiftly away.

The slightly smooshed bear pulled itself to its feet and toddled towards her, arms outstretched. She was far too afraid to actually move. Lyra felt every muscle tense in her body, as though she were having some sort of seizure. She wanted to fly apart in every direction at once. That is, until the pegasus knocked the thing onto its back, pinned its body and, with the sound of shredding fabric, pulled its head off with her teeth.

She spat the head over her shoulder and offered Lyra a hoof. Lyra tried to shake off the sensation of her skin actually crawling, and she accepted the offered limb. Still breathing hard, she nevertheless cocked her head a little and asked, “Fluttershy? Is that you?”

The pegasus opened her mouth to reply, but she didn't speak. Instead, she opened her mouth wider, and wider, and wider, stretching the corners of her mouth impossibly far. Then, with a hiss of steam, her jaw snapped all the way back, revealing a trio of striped rodents sitting before tiny glowing screens. The one in the central seat stood, and spoke in a squeaky voice. “My name is Lickens Snoodle, and I seek the Heart of the Sciuridae Empire! Tell me horse! Where might I find the acorn of supreme glory?!”

A breathy scream barely made any noise as it caught Lyra on the inhale. She tried to pull away, but the construct before her kept her hoof in an iron grip. The chipmunk before her rolled its eyes and tapped a few buttons. Golden wings spread on either side of the mare, and the edge of each feather looked razor-sharp, as though they were made of metal. “Reveal the location of the sacred acorn and we shall let you live!”

The staccato fall of hooves on cobblestones accompanied the words, and Lyra glanced behind her in time to see a celestial unicorn guard in full armor galloping towards them with a spear affixed to his shoulder in joust position. He jumped into the air, kicked off of a floating chunk of ground and leaped in a graceful arc, the point of his weapon glinting in the streetlamp above.

“Evasive maneuvers!” The chipmunk squeaked, hammering the console before him with tiny paws. The not-pony dropped Lyra's hoof as one of its wings swept in an arc, neatly deflecting the spear's haft. The other wing spun in, aiming for the stallion's neck, but he hunched his shoulder as he landed and the steel feathers glanced off his armor in a shower of sparks. In a swift, oiled motion the not-pony reared and struck the guard across the helmet with a sharp crack, denting the thick metal. The guard staggered, struggling to stay upright. The next blow followed swiftly, but the guard managed to catch the raised hoof in his telekinetic field.

The chipmunk squeaked commands into some kind of headset, and steam burst from its joints as it redoubled its efforts, driving the guard backwards and down onto the cement. The hoof drew closer and closer to his face, until a different, golden field of telekinesis lifted the lead chipmunk out of his seat. “Gah! Set me down!” The guardpony took a moment to catch his breath, and the levitating chipmunk drew a long, slender sword from his hip, slashing it menacingly and uselessly from his position in the air. Lyra kept a firm mental grip on the rodent, afraid of what it might do if it slipped free. “Grey Squirrel!? Is that you? You must know that Mother Rushnut has betrayed you! Give us the acorn or die in your inferior mech! My comrades, use Metal Mare Ray to destroy these fools!”

The not-pony swung back into motion at the same moment the guard tried to speak. “You're all insa-aaaAACHOOOOO!” A thick cloud of glitter and confetti erupted like buckshot from the guard's nose, followed by high-pitched screams of “Augh, my eyes!” and “It stings!” and “Comrades! Status report now!” and “It was a sneak attack! Some new kind of *cough cough* chaff grenade!” The guard shook his head clear and flung himself into a retreat, urging Lyra ahead of him. She didn't need much urging. Together they ran back into the city, twisting down a couple of different streets. When it looked as though they weren't being followed, they ducked into an alcove for the exit of a theater to catch their breath.

Lyra wondered if her heart might just give out, and save her the trouble of all this running around. Within the space of a few seconds, she watched a shrub and a broom have a silent argument, she held her breath as a fluffy pink pony floated by, unable to touch the ground despite her adorable attempts at trying, and a bowl of petunias fell from the sky with a resounding crash. Lyra forced her gaze away from the crazy and studied her companion. The stallion who rescued her had a gray coat and burgundy eyes, and he observed the chaos with a desperate ferocity, as though his inability to protect his city was a bitter pill to swallow.

Lyra was grateful. Deeply grateful to anyone who would charge through this kind of nightmare to help a fellow pony. The sight of his frustrated helplessness struck her heart. “Thanks.” The word barely existed, stuck as it was in her throat. She cleared the obstruction. “Thank you.” That was better. “Thanks for the help.”

He nodded, but he didn't take his eyes off the street.

Lyra took a different approach. “What's your name?”

The guard stallion leveled a frustrated glance at her, but something in his gaze told Lyra that she wasn't the source of his frustration.

The nameless guard stuck his head out of the alcove and in a flash had ducked back in, having clearly seen even more chaos out on the street. He scowled and caught Lyra's eye, nodding towards the door behind them. Lyra nodded in return and fell in behind him as he pulled open the sturdy oak door with his magic.

A wall of pale, thick slime crashed over them both, sweeping the legs out from under the pair and flooding their noses with a sweet vanilla scent as it swept them into the middle of the cobbled street. “Gaaaa-aah!” Lyra screamed, partly in confusion and partly in frustration. As she picked herself up out of the custard, slipping only a little, Lyra began to see the reason for her deep-seated terror. She may have been mostly unhurt, but her hold on her sanity was beginning to slip. Lyra's cheek twitched and she slapped at it, spattering more custard on her face and her mane. She choked down a mad giggle, refusing to let it free.

Her companion noticed them first; a pack of colorful lemurs was sweeping down the street towards them, chittering loudly and bouncing like a kettle full of popcorn. The guard growled. “Go-oaaaCHOO!” He directed a violent sneeze downwards, sparing Lyra's eyes a violent close-up view of colorful confetti. “Hi-iaaaCHOO! Hi-iaaaCHOO! HIDE! . . .” He shouted, and blinked slowly. “ACHOOO!”

Lyra shook her head, unable to bring herself to leave her new friend alone. He'd saved her once already, and while she knew she wasn't brave, Lyra was certain she couldn't live with herself if she abandoned him now.

The swarm of marsupials had. . . were they all wearing little plaid shirts? They had reached the expanding edge of the dessert flood and had bounded in, flinging custard everywhere. The guard pony snarled, and in a flash Lyra found herself flung hard down a side road. She tumbled easily to a stop in time to see the guard gallop off in another direction, leading the chittering horde away.

The mint-green pony's startled, worried, sad expression held for a long moment before crumpling into tears. Alone again, surrounded by rising chaos, and her coat gummed with unlikely dessert filling, Lyra turned and ran. It's a shame there was nowhere to run to.

The majesty of the Canterlot Gardens had been utterly ruined. Even random chaos could find little opportunity to express itself there. Most of the bits of landscape and surrounding shrubbery which had decided to defy gravity had been vaporized in violent magical detonations. Blasted chunks of ground which had begun to morph or deform into other structures were simply blasted again. Even the ponies of the guard and the other random creatures conceived deep within Discord's mind, all of them steered clear of the statue gardens for fear of certain annihilation.

Two figures clashed again and again, sundering air and ground alike with magical concussions. One, Shining Armor, was sheathed in radiant violet energies. The other shone with a sick, pale green. The figures clashed and spun away, dodged and struck, and gave voice to the night which had otherwise turned utterly dark. It was a long time before the violence ended with Shining Armor being struck down. As the dust began to settle, and the sky in the east began to brighten ever so subtly, the green figure fled, leaving devastation in her wake.

The back corner of the abandoned bakery was dark, but not so dark that Lyra couldn't make out the vague outline of the display racks and various baking tools in the pre-dawn light. She'd felt hysterical, so close to losing herself that she'd been afraid to move. So she'd found a corner, curled herself into as small a ball as possible, squeezed her eyes shut and retreated deep within herself. Her panicked, untethered mind had grappled onto the only stable and calming thoughts she could find solace in.

Memories of Bon Bon. Like that time they'd sat down to order at the fancy restaurant around the corner from campus, and it had taken the waiter almost an hour to bring them their waters, so the two of them had ducked out before their orders had arrived and wound up eating fast-food in the rain. Or the time Lyra's parents had combined her graduation party with her brother's going-away party and had failed to invite any of her friends, so Bon Bon put together a second, surprise party the following week that had lasted all night. She loved Bon with all her heart, but it was the calm she needed most of all. Lyra by herself fell into the habit of letting her mind stress and fray around the edges. But with Bon Bon she felt calmer, more centered. She felt that, no matter what, things would always be okay.

She'd been drifting on this feeling for awhile. Enough so that, when the door to the bakery opened, her heart didn't leap clear out of her chest. She heard hoofsteps, but she didn't move even to protect herself. She felt it was more important to maintain the fragile feeling of peace protecting her sanity. Her eyes remained closed as the figure reached the swinging gate, peeked behind the counter, and walked confidently towards her. Lyra's fragile calm assured her that it was her guard companion, and he had found her again. Until a faint sour-grain smell made her nose twitch. She pried one eye open.

Queen Chrysalis loomed above her, terrible and entrancing.

Lyra's pupils shrank, and her calm shattered.

“It is good I have found you.” Her voice buzzed and resonated with menace. “And untouched by the Harbinger of Madness, as well. Get up, musician, there is much work to be done.”

Lyra obeyed, standing up without hurrying. Chrysalis turned to lead the way, and Lyra's horn lit with a golden glow the moment before a sturdy metal baking tray slammed into the back of Chrysalis's skull.

The changeling Queen spun, turning around in a flash. “How dare you!?” She shouted. “I am here. . .” More loud clangs echoed through the shop as a cast iron pan interrupted the changeling's sentence with a series of thunderous blows.

Lyra's eyes burned with ferocity. “I!” Clang. “Am!” Clang. “Not!” Clang. “Your!” Clang. “Puppet!” Clang. “Anymore!” CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

The blows were the mightiest Lyra could muster, but Queen Chrysalis simply snarled, and in a flash of green the pan disintegrated into dust. The changeling pounced, coming nose-to-nose with Lyra and filling her vision. “I hadn't taken you to be such a shallow foal! We must. . .” An ear-splitting crash rocked Lyra back from the pile of broken glass and busted wood occupying the space where Chrysalis used to be.

Lyra had lifted an entire bakery display and dropped it atop the changeling Queen. She couldn't even enjoy her small victory, since her head suddenly felt as though it was splitting apart. Lyra grit her teeth together, a moan of pain escaping her sealed lips. Her tail lashed about of its own accord, her body trying to find a way to cope with the sudden hurt. She'd never lifted anything nearly so heavy with her horn before in her life. The sheer pain of overexertion was surprising, and Lyra briefly collapsed against the cabinets next to her.

She heard the rubble shifting, and Lyra gasped as she forced herself to her hooves. Prying her eyes open, she spotted a rolling pin and immediately snatched it up in hooves still sticky with custard. Tottering on two legs, she raised her weapon and waited for Chrysalis's head to emerge, squinting through her massive headache.

Shattered pressboard and metal racks shifted upwards, revealing a black, gnarled horn above a face Lyra still saw in her nightmares. But she didn't strike right away. There was. . . something in the monster's expression that stayed her hoof. There was anger and exasperation, certainly. But there was also something else, something just a little bit sorrowful.

“Stop this! Are you blind?” Chrysalis spat the words. “Had I wanted to harm you, little foal, I would have done so already.” Noticing the sharpness of her tone, Chrysalis eased the threat out of it. “I require your help. As does this city.”

Lyra hadn't meant to start crying. “You took away my mind.” The tears streaked her face anyway. “You. . . I shut myself away. . .” Little sobs had begun to break through her speech. “And then. . . I almost lost. . . the one pony who. . . who-who means the m-most. . .” She teetered on her hooves as her vision blurred.

Chrysalis spoke very slowly, as though to soften the offensive blow of her words. “I am consistently surprised to see such strength alongside such crippling weakness in you ponies.” She said. “But you do not understand. You must set aside your hatred. . .”

“NEVER!” The word was a mess, as much a mess as the pony who'd said it.

“. . .Your hatred if we are to survive this day, your people and mine.”

“Never.” Lyra whispered vehemently. Rearing back, she swung the rolling pin with all of her wobbly strength. The weapon stopped an inch from the Queen's face, suddenly enough to jar Lyra up to the shoulders. A small green field of energy had enveloped the end, locking the object in mid-air as though it had been set in granite.

Chrysalis spoke again, measuring her words. “Fate has played a grand game upon us both, little filly. I took your pathe-grr. . . your will under my command before. And now my life relies upon the freedom of your will.” She sighed and curled her tongue around a glistening fang in idle thought. “Irony is a vicious master, yet we all find ourselves slave to it at some point, don't we?”

Lyra released the rolling pin, falling backwards upon her haunches. She was still trying hard not to cry. “I hate you.” The words were a poor substitute for a heavy frying pan, but they were all she had left to swing at the changeling. “I hate you so much. . .”

“Of course you do.” Chrysalis stood easily, shrugging off the remains of the bakery display as easily as she shrugged off the words. “I do not ask you to forgive me. Far from it. Should we discover unlikely peace between my kin and yours, I am certain you will still hate me for the rest of your days. You have only to set it aside for a while.” She hissed. “Look around you! Hmmmm? Look about this place in which you cower like a roach!”

Still sniffling, Lyra rubbed her eyes clear and gazed about the bakery. It was dimly lit, the undulating streets beyond pale with the coming dawn. There were baguettes which were likely stale, and cookies which were probably still good. A smattering of tables and chairs, a couple of them overturned. Absolutely nothing special.

Chrysalis took Lyra's uncomprehending gaze as some sort of proof. “Yes, exactly! Do you see? The chaos outside has not spread to your sanctuary here. Why do you think that is?” The changeling Queen gestured broadly. “What were you doing before I intruded here? Quickly!”

“I. . .” Lyra stammered, her brain unable to keep up with the oddity of the situation. “I. . . I was thinking about. . .” Was she sharing her deepest feelings with the subject of her worst nightmares? Had she finally snapped? “About Bon Bon. And, um, how calm and peaceful she al. . . always makes me feel.”

“Hmmmmmmmm. . . Of course.” Chrysalis stalked to the front door where she stopped, contemplating the chaos beyond the glass. “Love is not harmony, yet it is one of the strings upon which harmony might be played.” She glanced back at Lyra, a predatory grin spread across her face. “Come filly, hold on to that sense of peace, and let us unmake a god with your memories.”

Lyra's stomach had begun seriously protesting when she had started to consider the evil monster's words. It had twisted into knots when she'd allowed the changeling Queen to touch her. But Lyra didn't actually have to swallow bile until they were airborne. Chrysalis was fast, and the skies had become as chaotic as the ground. They had to swerve around schools of startled fish who were trying to nibble on large floating balls of moss, even though a giant serpent made of clouds kept swishing a fluffy tail through the air, shooing them away. Wil'o'wisps flickered by, emitting jarring chimes like some sort of indecipherable language. A trio of colorful hummingbirds zipped by, pausing long enough to say “Hi Chrissy!” followed by “Bye Chrissy!” in unison before flitting away.

Chrysalis dove and spun, gracefully evading each obstruction that appeared despite clutching Lyra to her chest in an iron-like grip. The alien feel of the jagged chitin pressed against her fur was almost as disturbing as the swirling sea of chaos they spun through. Desperately, Lyra tried to re-capture the calm peace she'd felt earlier. She had no idea how it was supposed to help, but it didn't matter. The feeling had fled. Lyra's pulse thudded in her aching temples and she was as far from feeling centered as she ever had been in her life. She wanted to scream for so many different reasons, but she did not want to throw up. So she clamped her mouth shut and waited for it to end.

“There!” Chrysalis swooped into a steep dive, making Lyra even more grateful she hadn't eaten anything in the last twelve hours. “We must reach the Crystal Princess.” The changeling Queen angled her buzzing wings just before they hit the ground, causing her rough legs to dig further into Lyra's ribs before dropping her to her hooves.

“Now, musician,” Chrysalis continued, “I can protect you from the wandering chaos for a time, but only physically. You must still the chaos in your heart once more. Hurry!”

Lyra promptly staggered over to a nearby bush and threw up bile. The bush, for its part, became offended and waddled away in a huff. She wiped her mouth and spat, turning weary and desperate eyes on her companion. “And just how,” Her voice was raw, as though she'd been screaming all night. “Am I supposed to do that?”

Queen Chrysalis looked as though she might have said something scathing, but then thought better of it. Her face full of disdain, Chrysalis angled her horn and hit Lyra full in the chest with a bright bolt of magic. Lyra lifted her hooves in a futile gesture of self-defense, but she found herself unmoved and unharmed. With another flash, the light vanished, taking with it the thick custard that had worked its way into her coat. The sensation of being clean, it struck Lyra as feeling. . . unexpectedly nice.

“Now, musi. . . Lyra. The Crystal Princess lies upon that bench over there.” Chrysalis gestured behind her with a hoof. “You must reach through her despair, and you must impart your wisdom to her. We need her to unmake Shining Armor's madness, and I fear his shield is already weakening. Go.”

Lyra honestly considered attacking Chrysalis again, if only to express her offense at being told what to do so imperiously. Especially by this uncaring monster. But she couldn't do it. Chrysalis was right about one thing. There was far more at stake than Lyra's own entirely-justified hatred.

Lyra sighed, grappling with her anger for a moment. Then she turned, deliberately leaving the traitorous changeling and her burning desire for revenge behind her. She discovered, once she let go, that she felt cold and hollow. As though she'd somehow justified every terrible thing Chrysalis had done to her by not hating her more.

But she also felt just the tiniest bit free.

There was a gray form stretched out along a bench made of taffy, deforming and squishing the end idly with a hoof. Her mane was disheveled, and Lyra hardly recognized her. “Princess?” Lyra called out timidly.

“Hmph.” Was the only reply.

The sun had risen, obscured as it was by the massive dome of light and pink fluffy clouds which likely weren't clouds at all. “How. . . uh, how are you?”

The alicorn's breathing hitched, as though a sob wanted to escape but it couldn't figure out how.

“Yeah.” Lyra laid down next to the bench, since Cadance had taken up most of it. She didn't know what to say, but the truth couldn't be a bad place to start. “Today kind of sucks.” Silence. I'm not a counselor! I'm not some kind of therapist! What in Celestia's name am I supposed to say? 'Hey, don't be down! Hope is worth hoping for!' Ugh, I sound stupid in my own head!

A wet, squishy feeling started beneath her forelegs. Looking down, Lyra watched as the ground beneath her started to turn into jam. She sighed heavily. Yes, it's a sticky situation Discord. Hah hah hah. Your jokes would be awful if they weren't so weirdly disturbing. And weirdly real.

She said the first thing that came to her head. “I, um, I have a mare friend. We've been together for a couple of years now, and. . . uh, I think I want to marry her.”

“What makes you think she's the one?” Cadance's clear voice startled Lyra, who hadn't really expected a coherent reply. Oh good, I've got her talking. “Why her, over everypony else?”

“That's easy.” Lyra replied confidently. “She's kind and thoughtful, and she never seems to get mad at the same stuff I do. . .”

“So what?” Cadance slumped, as though Lyra'd said something wrong. “Plenty of ponies fit that description.”

“Well, I wasn't finished. Bon Bon is plenty of other things besides that. She's. . . hmm, I lost my train of thought. . .”

Cadance droned on. “There are hundreds of thousands of ponies in Equestria, and beyond. Are you really trying to tell me you found your soul mate among the forty or fifty you've met here in Canterlot?”

“Well. . .” Lyra fumbled. She thought she could see where the Princess was going with this. “Okay, maybe there are lots of ponies out there who might be a match for me, or anypony. That makes logical sense. . .”

Cadance nodded, as though she'd reached the same conclusion hours ago. “So your mare friend isn't the one. Not really.”

Lyra verbally backpedaled. “Wait. I didn't say that.”

“Nopony ever finds the one they're supposed to be with.” Cadance mourned. “We all just make do with who we can find. Love is blinding, and it makes us all into fools.” She turned an earnest gaze upon the mint unicorn. “It doesn't actually mean anything.”

“Hold on.” Lyra was dumbstruck. “Just hold on a second.” It wasn't supposed to go this way. But the Princess was right, wasn't she? How could Bon Bon be the love of her life? The Princess had been awfully generous with her guess. The real number of potential suitors Lyra had met couldn't be more than twelve. Probably less. Had she really settled too early? She started to feel a numb sensation, starting in her chest and spreading outward.

Wait. But she did love Bon, even if it didn't make rational sense. She felt it with her heartstrings, even if her mind could pick it apart with doubts. But she had to fight back, to put these feelings into words that might make sense. She had to try to reach the Princess, or risk being pulled into despair herself.

“You're right.” Lyra said. Cadance locked eyes with her for the first time, and Lyra thought she saw a glimmer of hope deep within them. The Princess still wanted to believe. She took a breath and plunged ahead. “Sure, love makes you feel like there's only one pony in the world for you, even if that can't really be true. But. . .” She faltered. She couldn't quite find the words to express what she felt. She hesitated, and the light behind the Princess's gaze went out. Cadance turned away and went back to playing with the taffy bench.

How would you have said it, Bon? Lyra conjured up an image of the sweet earth pony. She had a look of genuine adoration in her eyes, and Lyra could almost hear her voice, speaking to her. Of course. . .

“But that's exactly how love works!” Lyra exclaimed, surprising even herself. She leaped to her hooves. “It makes perfect sense! There might be thousands of search lights sweeping the sky, but when you look right into one, you are blinded! And suddenly none of the others exist for you! There's only the one, don't you see?! That's how both sides of love are completely true, not just one or the other.” Lyra lowered her voice and bored her eyes into Cadance's, begging her to believe. “Maybe there are lots of ponies you could fall in love with. But you only fell in love with one. And that changes everything.” Lyra sat back on her haunches. “That changes. . . everything.”

The hope was back in the alicorn's eyes, stronger now. “But, love is irrational. It doesn't make sense to feel so strongly about somepony else.”

“It's not supposed to make logical sense.” Lyra countered. “It's supposed to complete us emotionally. It's a part of being alive, perhaps the most important part.”

“But. . .” Cadance was trying to recapture the despair she had felt so strongly just moments ago. Lyra let her try. If she couldn't convince the Princess to walk away from her apathy completely, her victory would be hollow. But Lyra wasn't worried. Not even a little. Everything she said just felt so right she could hardly contain her joy. She felt as though Bon Bon were standing right next to her, holding her and supporting every word. “But. . .” The Princess stammered. “But love can cause so much heartache. So much pain. . .”

“Yes.” Lyra understood this too. “And that's also exactly how it's supposed to work.” She took a bold step by cupping the Princess's cheek in her hoof, feeling a tear running down Cadance's face. “Pain isn't evil. It isn't wrong. It's as much a part of being alive as anything else.” Her vision clouded, and she had to blink a pair of her own tears free to be able to see again. “If we are to open our hearts to joy, then we open our hearts to pain. Just as we have both the sun and the moon guiding our lives, we would be lost without one or the other. Come back to us, Princess. We need you. Shining Armor needs you.”

With that, the Princess began to cry. But they weren't bitter sobs of anguish. They were cleaner, somehow. Full of heavy care and sorrow, but also full of love.

Lyra held her upon the bench now made of proper wood, and she thought of Bon Bon, and how desperately she wished she was holding her, and how badly she needed to tell her everything in her heart.

And for a time, the chaos did not intrude.

When Cadance finally looked up and blinked her bloodshot eyes, they were smiling. And her coat had regained its rose-pink hue. “I haven't known you for very long, Lyra. Yet I feel as though I've known you much longer.”

“Um, thank you?”

“Yes, that was meant as a compliment.” Cadance's kind, melodic voice adorned the morning with motes of calm surety. “Thank you, Lyra. I allowed Discord to lead me from the truth. Thank you for reminding me what's really important in my life.”

“Don't thank me yet, your highness.” Lyra dried her eyes with a fetlock. “We need to find Shining Armor.”

“Yes.” She said with feeling. “Right away.” The Princess stood up, and only then did she notice their surroundings. “This looks. . . This looks like Canterlot! Like normal!” She touched the bench they'd been sitting on the whole time as though it would sag and deform. “Did you do this? Or. . .”

“It's not perfect.” Lyra sighed, indicating the jam covering the undersides of her forelegs. “But yes, I think I might have done something. Or else we did it together. I'm not sure.”

Cadance reached back to touch her mane where Lyra had hugged her, and her hoof came away sticky and red. She rolled her eyes and giggled before returning her attention to the clean sidewalk and bench, her small smile fading back into wonder. “Discord's magic. . . I mean, how. . . how are you resisting it?” They watched together as a bunny rabbit in a tutu and ballet shoes spun and pirouetted across the delineation from plaid, curvy sidewalk to normal concrete, and it immediately dropped to all fours, it's clothing evaporating as it blinked it's large eyes in confusion. Cadance exhaled sharply in wonder, and Lyra smiled.

A buzzing female voice cut between them. “She has discovered harmony in her heart.” Queen Chrysalis prowled into view. “We must learn to do the same.”

Cadance gasped. “You. . .” Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Lyra threw herself between them. “Don't! Trust me, she's not. . .” Lyra turned a crestfallen gaze upon the Princess. “She brought me to you, and she's kept me safe.”

Princess Cadance was having none of it. “What's your game, Chrysalis?”

Chrysalis laughed. “My game? Would you deny my help in this late hour?”

Cadance looked bewildered. “You can't possibly expect us to trust you.”

“And why not?” Chrysalis shot back. “My children cannot thrive underneath Discord's rule either! Are my motivations here still such a mystery?”

“No.” Cadance spoke softly, shaking her head. “They'll thrive under your rule. Is that it?”

“You try my patience, foal.” Chrysalis said. “Any ruler, or indeed any mother, might do the same for their progeny.”

“You tried to destroy my life and steal my husband!”

Queen Chrysalis rolled her eyes in frustration. “It was never about you!” She shouted. “Or your entirely unappealing Shining Armor! Time wears thin, but this much I will explain to you, Princess. The ancient evil that devoured Celestia's homeland across the sea, it devours the world still. Celestia, in fear or ignorance, assumed she could afford to wait until it reached her borders to act. In this, she was terribly wrong. She possessed the most potent magical artifacts known, yet she squirreled them away and did nothing! Action was needed, and Luna was the first to declare it to her face, but Celestia refused to see reason. So, the Princess of the Night rose against Celestia thinking she could change her mind through force, but the all-knowing Princess of the Sun turned the Elements against her sister rather than accept the truth, and as a result broke her connection with them. Only in discovering new bearers would the world once again have hope.

“So, you see.” Chrysalis continued, “When new bearers were found, Celestia hesitated still. I meant to wrest her powers from her and confront the Darkness myself at best, or convince Celestia of her danger at worst. It is with joy I see that Celestia has discovered wisdom, and with Luna's blessing I offered to guard their kingdom in their stead.” Princess Cadance's anger had faded into shock, her eyes unfocused and her ears drooped. Chrysalis drove her point home. “I have never set my sights so low as to covet your marriage, or even Canterlot. You wish to know my 'game,' young filly? My 'game' is surely deeper than you've ever considered.”

Cadance may have found her mouth going dry, as she had a little trouble speaking. “So you're just a good guy, huh?” She asked, doubt lacing her voice. “With everypony's best interest at heart. Is that what we're supposed to believe?”

“Believe what you will.” Chrysalis idly examined a malformed hoof. “I act in my own best interest, as does every living thing.” She paced forward a step, her demeanor suddenly intense. “And speaking of 'every living thing,' shall we stop wasting time? I would hate for your husband to wake without you there. I fear he would tear this city brick from brick in search of you. Or perhaps he would go further, dropping this shield were he somehow convinced you were outside it!”

Lyra spoke up. “I'm afraid she might be right. Discord is the bigger threat here.”

Cadance looked as though she wanted to believe, but she was fighting with her own emotions and ingrained preconceptions. Lyra sympathized deeply. She understood exactly how much it cost her to set aside her own hatred, but she could only imagine what it might cost Princess Cadance. The vile bug had imprisoned her and took her husband as her own. Lyra was, quite frankly, surprised that Cadance hadn't already tried to attack the changeling in a bitter fury.

Instead she surprised Lyra by saying, “Okay. We will work together to stop this madness from spreading. But hear me now.” Cadance stepped forward and jabbed a hoof into the thick exoskeleton covering Chrysalis's chest, producing a hollow sound. “Should we somehow pull off the impossible and best Discord, you will stay in Canterlot and answer to me for your crimes.”

Chrysalis smiled. “You want me to stay? Why Princess, I'm shocked. I would have thought you'd want me packed and shipped to the Badlands without so much as a 'goodbye.'”

“You understand me perfectly.”

“Well,” Chrysalis glanced in the direction of the distant Canterlot Gardens, or what was left of them. “Let's start with the impossible, shall we?”

27: And Harmony

The charred patches of ground were uncomfortably hot beneath Lyra's hooves. She tried to avoid the worst of the damage as they walked, squinting in the strange muted glare of the rising sun.

Chrysalis didn't seem to notice. “Once I cracked his defenses, he succumbed to a simple sleep spell. You don't know how difficult it was not to kill him. He is quite the formidable fighter.”

“Yes, well,” Cadance still looked as though she was trying hard to be civil. “I guess I should be grateful.”

“There he is.” Chrysalis pointed to a prone, gray figure just beyond some jagged hunks of unearthed rock. Cadance immediately lunged forward, but Chrysalis stopped her with an outstretched hoof. “A moment more, Princess. I believe you can reach Shining Armor, but first I need a small favor.”

Cadance scowled, but she waited with one elevated eyebrow.

“We need to gather what ponies are left amongst this madness. But the remaining guards will not trust or listen to me. Not in time. I will need to wear a different likeness, a different face.”

“And you want mine?” Anger rose in the Princess's voice. “What do you need my permission for? You didn't need my permission at my wedding, did you?”

Chrysalis spoke slowly, explaining herself as though to a young filly. “The guards will rally behind you, you know this. I can find them all swiftly and I can restore their hope. But their hopes will be dashed and they will turn upon me in a heartbeat if you do not play along. I will gather them as you, and I will send them here. All you must do is give them no reason to suspect it wasn't you all along. Do you understand me yet?”

Cadance scowled hard at the ground beneath her hooves. Her tail lashed in agitation. With a resigned sigh, she nodded. There was a flash of green, and two Cadance's stood together, both with equally disheveled manes. Lyra had a moment of panic, afraid that she'd accidentally mix the two of them up. She inched closer to the real Cadance.

But then the imposter grinned and took to the sky, winging her way back into the city. The real Cadance shuddered delicately, looking a little ill. Lyra put out a supportive hoof. “Are you all right, Princess?”

“No.” The young alicorn replied. “I'm not. Not yet.” She set her sights determinedly on the sight of her husband and she broke into an immediate gallop. Lyra tried to keep up, but her legs felt numb and dead. So she stumbled along in her wake, focusing solely on holding that feeling of harmony in her heart.

Once she drew close enough to hear the Princess's intense whispers and see her loving gestures, she stopped. When it looked as though Shining Armor was awake, and not trying to vaporize everything, Lyra found a level patch of ground that wasn't hot to the touch and slumped upon it. She'd had little sleep the night she and Bon and Minuette had gone to talk to Princess Lun. . . Ugh. Chrysalis, and she'd had absolutely no sleep since early the previous morning. Add to that galloping the length and breadth of Canterlot and exhausting myself magically, I'm surprised I haven't passed out by now. Her muzzle drifted towards the dirt beneath her, but she startled herself awake, blinking her golden eyes blearily. Sleep later. She promised herself. For now, I have to help. . . I wish you were here with me, Bon.

It seemed like only a moment, but it must have been a fair chunk of time before Cadance reappeared before her, smiling happily and leaning broadside against a scuffed and haggard-looking Shining Armor. The luster had returned to his eyes, and beneath the scorch-marks and grime his coat was a radiant white. “Lyra Heartstrings.” His voice was raw and hoarse, but filled with contentment. “My wife tells me you've uncovered the secret to fighting Discord.”

Lyra smiled dazedly. “Yes,” She said. “I think maybe I have.”

“It seems you've been abandoned and thrown quite the curve by leaders you've sworn your whole life to serve.” Discord watched in anticipation and glee as the unicorn guard's coat drained of color and he slumped forward, sullen dejection in every line of his form. Discord giggled to himself as he eeled backwards through the air, contentedly stretching his limbs.

He snapped his fingers, producing a glass filled with chocolate milk out of thin air. He tried to sip it through a giant, twisted crazy straw, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't pull anything through. Smiling faintly, he lifted the straw out of the cup, lifting every drop of liquid with it as though it was a solid cylinder of chocolate. He took a bite of chocolate milk, straw and all, and then he shook the cup into a cluster of colorful moths that flitted away in every direction.

Still snacking on his milk-on-a-stick, Discord eyed a streetlamp ahead of him. With a snap of his fingers and a small poofing noise, it became a wobbling stack of warbling alarms and doorbells. The din was maddening, and Discord chuckled quietly as he drifted away.

But then there was a small poofing noise at his back and the deafening cacophony stilled, replaced by an unsettling silence. For the first time since his release, Discord looked honestly confused. He turned to consider the streetlamp again, for that's what it was. Just a boring old streetlamp. Discord snapped his fingers again, and it became a large candy cane. He stared at it for a long moment, daring it to be anything otherwise. Seconds passed, and Discord nodded his approval. As he turned to go, however, there was yet another poofing noise that set his teeth on edge.

He returned to the streetlamp with a snarl and snapped his fingers again. It became a tall stack of cardboard boxes filled with packing peanuts. But only for a moment before changing back right before his eyes. He snapped his fingers again, and the streetlamp became three confused-looking dogs of various sizes. Then they were a simple streetlamp once more.

Discord flew into a tantrum, snapping his fingers wildly and producing at least a dozen more odd sets of random and interesting things. But reality simply wouldn't bend to his will anymore. He ended by curling himself around the streetlamp, trying to shake it and gnawing on the middle of it in sheer frustration.

It didn't budge. With a cry of frustration Discord launched himself into the air. Around him in all directions lay the city of Canterlot, but little else. There were hardly any buildings hovering upside down anymore. The number of crazy and chaotic flying objects was dangerously close to zero. And the streets, while many of them suffered damage of some type, looked like boring old street. Most of the chaos still remaining was closer to the edge of the shield, trapped between the shield and some sort of. . . something spreading from the center of the city.

Scowling, Discord vanished.

The ravaged wasteland of the Canterlot Gardens had become a bustling hub of activity, with more ponies trickling in by the minute. The majority of the guards had made it back, as well as a smattering of civilians who had, by choice or chance, not made it out of the city before the shield went up. Faces were for the most part haggard and strained, but there was a general sense of contentment and community threaded through the gathering. Most of the guards had removed their helms, and many had disarmed entirely, understanding finally that true chaos cannot be fought directly.

The first few survivors were the worst. They had all been touched by the spirit of chaos, and all three had tried to cause some sort of trouble. One hurled insults while another attacked Shining Armor for being an ineffectual Captain. The other simply slumped, mired deep in depression. Fortunately, once they had all been dragged within the circle of Lyra's influence, they seemed to have an easy time shaking off the effects. As more ponies wandered in, Lyra tried to explain how she'd managed to capture the spirit of harmony, and how it seemed to be proof against the chaos. She'd encouraged them to re-live and share aloud the moments in their lives that made them feel whole.

After the first few waves Princess Cadance took over for her, to Lyra's relief. She was feeling so tired she couldn't seem to keep track of what she was saying. A pair of guards, only one of them still wearing his breastplate, approached carrying a large sofa between them, hovering within the joined field of their telekinesis. It was one of those old, garish affairs found almost exclusively in the homes of grandmothers that was nevertheless far to comfortable to consign to the dump.

They placed the sofa down, slid it around a bit to get all four feet solidly set on the uneven ground, and the shorter of the two gestured with a hoof. Lyra sighed from the tips of her hooves, and her eyelids drooped involuntarily. She nodded her thanks and clambered gratefully upon it, her hooves sinking deep into the plush cushions. She curled her legs in beneath her and sank even deeper, savoring the sensation. For a moment she imagined she was settled atop an actual cloud.

A lazy smile graced her mouth as she blinked tiredly at the thick milieu of ponies around her. Some were sitting in silence as though they were deep in thought. Many were talking in low murmurs, some very animatedly, and other groups had actually broken into song. But they all seemed to understand exactly what Lyra and Princess Cadance had instructed them to do. They were ignoring the chaos and focusing on finding harmony within themselves.

And it seemed to be working. Lyra had noticed something she thought was particularly important. Discord was terribly dramatic. Every move he made, every ounce of chaos he'd sown, it all had seemed to Lyra like the attention-grabbing antics of a spoiled filly. . . who also happened to have terrifying cosmic power. But the chaos had started small. It had started with simple whispers and suggestions, hadn't it? But then Lyra, and every other pony, had allowed the threat of chaos to instill fear into their hearts. And the chaos had only grown from there. Lyra figured that Discord needed to unravel the existing harmony thread by thread before he would be free to spread chaos further.

Now, together, they were all busy re-weaving the fabric of community and love they'd spent most of their lives thriving under. The ebb and flow of friendly conversation and laughter played like a familiar melody around Lyra Heartstrings, and she lightly nodded her head to the imagined rhythm.

Until something broke that rhythm, a faint dissonance in the atmosphere of love that made her ears twitch just before a voice muttered, “And just what, pray tell, is all of this?”

Discord's voice tried to sound faintly amused and very bored, but Lyra detected just the slightest bit of actual worry. Her inner calm wavered like a bubble on a gentle breeze at the sound of his voice, but then she recovered her balance with a breath. “Hello Discord.” She said without anger or fear. “How are you?”

He sighed dramatically. “Dreadful, I don't mind saying.” He settled himself on the sofa next to her, making as much of a dent in the cushions as a feather might. He idly examined the talons on his eagle claw. “This place has become boring enough to make me retch.”

Lyra kept herself from panicking, but just barely. Yes, they had managed to still much of the random chaos Discord had generated, but what would happen now? What would an impudent god do if he became frustrated? What would one of his tantrums look like? She waited, idly toying with the edge of the cushion in front of her and studying the gaudy floral print rather than contemplating what Discord might do next.

Conversations around them stilled as ponies spotted the draconequus perched among them. Glancing up, Lyra caught Shining Armor's eye just as he noticed what was happening. He did a double-take, a challenge furrowing his brow as he started forward. But his wife stopped him with a hoof and he sighed, deliberately turning his back on the pair of them. Far from feeling abandoned, Lyra felt oddly comforted. They were banking on the thought that conflict would only serve Discord. Lyra only hoped they were right.

“Could you ponies be any more predictable?” Discord stretched his lion's paw out to the side, extending it several lengths to reach some pony's forehead. At his touch, the color drained from the unicorn's tawny coat, and she sagged, looking for all the world as though somebody had just died. The other ponies around her dropped the song they were singing, uncertain what to do or what might happen. But then a black-coated pegasus charged in, picking the song back up and draping an arm around the blank mare, hoping to console or include her. The others joined back in with vigor, and Lyra glanced up at Discord out of the corner of her eye. He wasn't happy.

Lyra spoke without thinking. “Losing your 'touch' I see.” What am I doing? She thought, Stop antagonizing him!

Discord spoke through his teeth. “Would you care to find out?” He growled.

Before she could flinch, Discord had touched her forehead, and the world vanished. Heavy, black despair threatened to wash Lyra away in a sea of bitterness. She felt lonely and sad, but it was all outside of her. She wasn't so much swept away as deluged and unmoved. Discord was strong, certainly, but he was no longer irresistible. Lyra forced her eyes open, the gathering of ponies surrounding her once more with sensations of community and harmony. Lyra reached up and brushed Discord's claw away, and he stared at her in shock.

Lyra's heart raced with elation. “Not so easy, is it Discord?” She grinned fiercely. “Harmony is stronger than you, isn't it? I suspect it always has been.”

Discord's eyes flashed with rage, but his voice remained unchanged. “Hmmm. . . Interesting.” A pair of eagle talons snapped, and the nearest pony's armor fell off of him, shattering into piles of rubies and sapphires. “Perhaps some good old-fashioned greed might spice up this party.”

The various gems caught and refracted the sunlight already colored by the shifting hues of the harmonic shield. The guard pony's eyes widened as he realized he was standing in what might be twenty times his annual salary. With a quick glance at the avarice in the surrounding ponies' expressions, he pounced upon them, scooping the gems up in his arms. Other ponies lunged forward, and Discord threw his head back and laughed, slapping one scaled knee. “You see, little Harpy?” Discord wrapped an arm around Lyra and drew her in close. “Every mortal lives on the brink of madness. All it takes is a little push.”

“You're wrong.” For once Lyra's soft voice didn't waver. It rang out like a bell, clear and strong. “We are more than that. Much more.” She lifted a tired hoof and pointed, directing Discord's gaze.

Every pony who had scooped up gemstones had begun passing them out, hoofing one or two to each of their neighbors, and those ponies continued to pass them along. Many stopped to admire them, and a few precious stones found themselves tucked behind an ear or slipped beneath a hairband in such a way that they caught the light. There was no fighting, there was scarcely any hoarding of the sudden riches, and the only attention Discord received was. . . none at all.

Lyra felt a warmth starting in her chest. Maybe it was the exhaustion making her so emotional. Maybe it was overwhelming love for her fellow ponies, or maybe just a reaction to the stress of the last twenty-four hours, but Lyra started to cry. The glow in her heart, it seemed to spread to the rest of her chest and down her forelegs. The whole experience, the emotion she felt, it was too deep to name. So she quietly wept tears of joy as she hugged her forelegs to her chest. And she didn't fight it.

Discord was not amused. “Okay ponies,” he spat the word. “If you wont give in to greed, then how about rage?” He pitched his voice over the sound of the milling crowd. “Fillies and gentlecolts of Canterlot, I present to you the ravager of your great city!” With another snap of his fingers, Queen Chrysalis appeared out of thin air, looking just a little startled. Lyra wasn't certain, but it looked as though Discord's negligent *snap* had actually taken some effort.

Lyra stifled her crying and wiped her eyes. All of Canterlot Gardens had gone still. Finally, Discord had captured the attention of every pony present. Even Cadance and Shining Armor turned to look, stunned by dismay. The changeling Queen's insect wings buzzed a bit as she settled them. Chrysalis looked uncomfortable and exposed atop the earthen mound where she found herself perched. Discord leaned forward in anticipation, awaiting the first outcry. He seemed certain to have found a means to wreak havoc upon the gathered masses. Lyra held her breath.

Chrysalis hurriedly filled the silence with words. “Citizens of Equestria,” she spoke, “I stand before you as Queen of the Changelings! Therefore, any harm caused by my subjects to you or your city. . . You may safely lay that blame upon me!” Discord nodded eagerly, grinning in anticipation. “I attacked your city! I harried your families! I broke your defenses and cast down your ruler! I deny nothing!” A murmur threaded through the crown, the first muttered expressions of anger and resentment.

As Chrysalis spoke she met Princess Cadance's eyes, and she nodded. “Yet this I would say!” She continued, “What I have done, I did for my children and my subjects! My own reasons were justification enough! But I assure you all I did not return to your city today to acquire it by force. I have returned to help you against a common enemy!” She gestured with a hoof. “Discord would destroy my hives as surely as he would destroy your cities! And what's more,” At this, Chrysalis walked slowly towards Shining Armor and Cadance. “I have agreed, should we all survive, to submit myself to the judgment of your people.” Cadance recoiled in actual shock, her mouth dropping open. Shining glanced back and forth between them, unable to make sense of the sudden turn of events.

More mutterings drifted about, but they were lacking much of the dark resentment from earlier. Most of the overheard phrases were along the lines of “The bug's got a point.” and “Why would she do that?” and “What did she say?” But other ponies were saying things like “I don't believe a word of it.” and “We can't trust that thing!” and “Let's chain her to something!”

“Please!” Princess Cadance held up a hoof for quiet. “I know how most of you are feeling right now! We,” She sidled up next to her husband, “have more reason to hate Chrysalis than anypony! But I'm telling you now she's right! She's been helping us stem the chaos all along! She's been working to save our homes and our sanity! It must sound crazy, but it's entirely true! And what's more. . .” Cadance paced fearlessly up to Chrysalis and looked her in the eyes, even though she was a full head shorter than the changeling. But while Chrysalis's eyes were unreadable, Cadance merely radiated pity. “This may be our one chance to show the changelings what harmony looks like. Our one chance to rid ourselves of an enemy. . . by offering friendship.”

Appreciative murmurs drifted through the crowd. Chrysalis looked as though she was trying not to looked surprised. Lyra hadn't actually decided to stand up, but she found herself on her hooves anyway, trying to speak. “She's right!” Her voice didn't reach very far. Very few ponies had noticed her at all. Most of those assembled had started up conversations of their own, and Lyra could feel the atmosphere of harmony wavering. Some of them didn't agree, and some of them might have wanted to take matters into their own hooves. Lyra tried again. “Please listen! I know it's HARD TO FOR-BAUGH!!” Her voice had jumped up several notches in volume, so that the hillside seemed to shake with the sound of her voice.

Shining Armor nodded to her, his horn aglow. Lyra noticed a faint tingle around the base of her neck, and she smiled her appreciation. “Please listen!” Her voice rolled effortlessly across the gathering. “I know forgiveness can be hard! I should know! When she found me hiding just a few hours ago, I kind of dropped a bakery display on Chrysalis's head.”

A smattering of laughter met her words. “I know, it felt like the right thing to do, at least at the time. But I'm starting to learn that it really wasn't. It didn't make me feel any better. Instead, I found myself reaching out to another pony she'd hurt, and trying to help her feel better. And you know what? That actually did help. It helped me a lot. And now I feel. . . I feel more free! Please, for the love in your hearts, and for the sake of those around you, don't give in to the temptation to hate, even if somepony deserves it!”

The various mutterings and nods of the gathered ponies was suddenly blocked from view by a misshapen face. Discord's playfulness had vanished. His listless boredom had vanished. They had been replaced with something far older, something emotionless. “So, you think you've got this game all figured out, don't you?” There was a chill to his words, as distant and compassionless as the gulf between the stars. “I am older than your world, older than the stars. You can't possibly beat me. I. Am. Eternal. Your pathetic little mortal pony brain couldn't possibly comprehend even a fraction of what I am.”

Lyra was afraid. She felt the fear, trembling in her chest somewhere near her heart. But she was also feeling loopy from exhaustion, so her fear never caught up with her words. “Hey Discord, have you lost weight?” He looked shorter, or maybe just smaller in general. He no longer loomed over her in that tall, sinuous way he always did. “You look like you've lost weight. Have you been working out?” She giggled to herself.

“Do you realize how easily I could kill every single one of you? Hmmm?” Discord asked in that same cold, matter-of-fact way that made Lyra entirely too aware of how true it was. “Turning your heart into stone would be as easy as blinking. Starved for oxygen, your brain would stop functioning in exactly one minute, 47 seconds. That's somewhat shorter than the six days, seventeen hours, thirty-three minutes and two seconds it will take you, in particular, to starve to death beneath this dome.”

“I don't believe you.”

“Oh, my calculations are quite accurate.”

“No. I mean you wont kill us, Discord.” Lyra called his bluff. “All your power and all your random pandemonium. . . It all means nothing without an audience.” She boldly stared down the physical face of chaos, hearing the truth of her own words. “You kill us all, and you'll be left with nothing. Exactly what you have now.”

“Why shouldn't I do it anyway, out of simple spite?”

“That's easy.” She said, “Murder goes against your nature. It's not you.”

“Let's say you're right, little mare.” Discord reached out, placing a lion's paw against her chest. With a deft twist and a flash of light, the world vanished from below Lyra's hooves.

There was pain. Discord had grabbed her by the thin coat covering her chest, and he was holding her up, her back pressed against something unyielding. Her hooves flailed involuntarily but they found no purchase, and she squirmed to get away, or at least ease the tension. It felt like her skin might tear. Then her eyes focused, and she saw the mountain city of Canterlot unfurled below her. Far, far below her. Even below a few stray clouds drifting along unseen eddies of air.

The sudden vertigo was like a kick to the gut, cutting short her scream. She wrapped her forelimbs around Discord's arm and held on for dear life. She clamped her eyes shut, but she couldn't block out the sight of city streets like a tiny patchwork quilt, or the great castle far enough away to look like a foal's toy set. Her hind legs swung through empty air. A subtle thrumming at her back told her that Discord had her pinned between his paw and the very top of the shield. He'd placed the castle between the Gardens and the two of them, so they were unlikely to be seen from the ground.

“Oh, do be quiet.” Discord admonished. “We have things to discuss, and here you are yelling right in my ear. Not to mention that it's only polite to look at someone when they're talking to you.” She tried to swallow her screams, choking them back into whimpers. “That's better. Now, I'm going to make this simple.” He gently touched an eagle claw to the center of her forehead, just below her horn. “Let me in. Or I let you go.”

She wanted to say yes. At the thought of falling, Lyra's heartbeat kicked up another notch. She didn't want to die today. Her tongue felt as dry as paper in her mouth, and her hind legs swung a bit more, emphasizing her helplessness. Lyra wanted to accept. Her entire body thrummed with terror from her crest to her hooves. Screams still threatened to bubble out of her throat. She opened her mouth to agree.

But then her eyes focused properly, and despite her gasping fear she couldn't help but notice that Discord looked even smaller. Not just physically, his presence even seemed to have less substance. He no longer had enough power to force himself past her defenses. Because she hesitated, because she thought about it for a moment, she found she couldn't do it. Her friends, her sovereigns, her ponies were down there somewhere weaving harmony out of thin air, and against all odds had found a way to stop the unstoppable.

No wonder Discord had resorted to such measures. He was fighting for his very existence.

Her silence must have been its own answer. “Really?” He sounded incredulous. “You would honestly give up your life to spite me in this?”

He was shrinking, his form wisping away like fog. A few words made their way past the lump in Lyra's throat. “Please.” She whimpered, “Please don't do this.”

Was that. . . did he look just slightly apologetic? “Give in.” He implored.

“I-I can't.” It was the truth. “I'm sorry.”

Discord's eyes widened in astonishment as his face fell. Resignation made his voice heavy. “So am I, you brave little pony. So am I.” Discord's essence dissolved before her eyes as he swirled into vapor, and Lyra fell.

It was both empty and lonely at the top of the world. Lyra was surprised to find that the wind rushing past her ears and her own high-pitched scream did little to disrupt the silence so high up in the sky. She briefly wondered how the pegasi ever got used to it.

As she pawed at the air the wind caught her, flipping her over and giving her a brief glimpse of the highest spires of Castle Canterlot as she fell below their level. Then there was the dome stretching above her; a bright bubble of translucent lights backed by the searing brightness of the sun.

Lyra felt an irrational moment of panic spike through her completely rational panic, as though not being able to see the buildings and streets of the city rushing towards her might somehow make her fall faster. With her mane whipping about her face she struggled to right herself, but all she succeeded in doing was flipping and rolling herself erratically.

As she fell below more sets of gilded spires, Lyra thought about many things. She thought about Bon Bon, and how much she loved her. She thought about her parents, and how badly they would probably take her death. She thought about her brother, and how they hadn't spoken in a year, even after hearing about the changeling invasion. She wondered what he would be saying at the service, assuming he'd show up, of course.

Through another spinning tumble, Lyra saw that the buildings below her had become fairly close. She could make out gutters and awnings and streetlamps in the glimpses she snagged. It looked as though she would miss the residences and land in the street. That's comforting, She thought hysterically, At least they wont have to clean me off of somepony's home.

For a moment, her panic stilled and her breathing steadied. She was going to die. So what? So does everypony else, eventually. She felt bittersweet, certainly, but she had somehow accepted a kind of peace that had settled into her limbs. Maybe she'd gone mad. Wasn't that possible?

The silence allowed her to hear another sound, a sharp whistle from somewhere above her. On her next spin she caught a glimpse of him, a crimson pegasus with his wings folded, arrowing towards her. Her calm vanished, replaced with a desperate, clawing hope. She tried to right herself, to find a way to make herself easy to grab, but she couldn't seem to figure it out. She was always a breath too late with her adjustments, and she began to spin faster.

The pegasus closed the distance, and he made a grab for her. He snagged her tail and flared his wings but he didn't quite have a good grip and she spun out of his reach as they dipped below the rooftops and a tingling sensation enveloped Lyra's body and her fall slowed hard enough to make her feel like her stomach might leave her body and take up permanent residence elsewhere. She wasn't moving anymore. When she pried her eyes open, the ground was almost close enough to touch. But she hung suspended in a glowing field of magic, safe and still.

Until the magic vanished, and Lyra tumbled to the pavement. Gasping and shaking, she didn't even bother trying to stand. There wasn't a chance that her legs might support her. Instead, she swiveled her head around to find the pegasus who had tried to save her, standing in the middle of the street and breathing heavily. “I'm sorry.” He said in a smooth, attractive voice. “It's a reflex. I just assume that any time I try to help I have to do it as somepony else.” With that he closed his eyes, and his strikingly red coat flaked away in small flashes of emerald, revealing a gnarled black horn and a glittering carapace.

“No, it's – um. . .” Lyra licked her lips and tried to find her voice. She failed, and found herself focusing solely on her struggle to keep breathing without having a complete breakdown.

Another voice called distantly from somewhere behind her. “Lyra! Are you alright?” Princess Cadance swept in, back-winging into a graceful landing. She was followed by a small squadron of pegasi guardponies. “What happened?” She asked. Chrysalis said nothing, and Lyra really had no way to answer. She was shaking like a leaf and she was clearly hyperventilating, but she just couldn't seem to stop. Cadance scowled, and stepped defensively in front of the unicorn. “What did you do to her?”

“Me?” Chrysalis growled. “I saved her pathetic hide.”

“Really?” Cadance glanced at the pony behind her, looking for all the world as though she might go into shock. “What if I didn't believe you? What if I said I think you've been working with Discord all along?!?” The guards to either side of her assumed fighting positions.

“Should you wish to test me, filly,” Chrysalis's smile showed quite a lot of fang. “I invite you to try.”

Lyra could feel the tension in the air. The precious harmony wavering in the breeze. She knew she had to do something, to say something. Through her gasps and her blurred vision, she found a small stone in the street next to her. Without thinking, she slid it beneath a hoof and stepped on it, driving it up into the soft sole of her hoof. The sudden pain gave her mind something concrete to focus on, and for an instant allowed her to forget about the chaos and the falling and the fear. Her breathing hitched and slowed, and the world stopped spinning. Lyra stood, keeping the stone beneath her as she did.

“Stop it.” She managed to say. “All of you, just stop.” Everyone turned to look at her. Even the Princess looked as though she would defer to whatever Lyra had to say. Once she thought she had herself under control, Lyra kicked the rock out from under her and walked forward. She stopped, inches away from someone who, only yesterday, Lyra would have named as her worst enemy. Chrysalis eyed her warily, unsure what she meant to do or say.

She took a breath. “You're still a monster.” Lyra threw a hug around the changeling's closest leg. “But thank you for saving my life.” She mumbled into the pocked chitin. “Thank you for helping us all.”

Chrysalis began by looking worried, as though she wanted to pull away from the contact. But then another expression replaced the first, a subtle contentment or satiation. Lyra felt another spike of dizziness, but this time it had nothing to do with her exhaustion or her recent trials. She had forgotten that changelings feed on love, and here she had offered the creature a bit of her own.

Queen Chrysalis gently pushed Lyra away, and they broke contact. Lyra felt a little drained, and strangely enough she felt very normal. She reflected that offering up her excess emotion in that moment was probably the best thing she could have done, given the circumstances. I mean really. I just hugged a changeling. Clearly my emotions were getting out of hoof.

Cadance draped a fetlock around Lyra's shoulder. “My apologies. I didn’t see what happened. All I knew was that Discord and Lyra vanished, and you somehow vanished too. It seems I jumped to conclusions.”

Chrysalis smiled. And she managed to do it without looking like a hungry wolf. “I accept your apology, Princess. Isn't that what harmony dictates I should do?”

“Oh.” Lyra realized belatedly that she might be the only pony who knew this particular fact. “I think Discord might be gone.”

“Gone?” Cadance asked incredulously. “As in gone gone?”

“Hmmm. . . I do not feel his presence anymore.” Chrysalis seemed to sniff the air. “What did you do, filly?”

Lyra's ears drooped. “I'm not sure. I mean, he was kind of. . . I don't know, blowing away, and then he disappeared. I don't think he actually meant to drop me, he just. . . I fell through him, and. . .”

“Come back to the Gardens, Lyra,” Cadance gestured ahead of herself. “And tell us everything, if you can.”

“Okay.” Lyra was certainly tired, but she didn't feel quite so close to a breakdown anymore.

“Um, Princess?” One of the pegasi guards asked. “What about Chrysalis?”

Cadance was silent for a beat, her violet eyes assessing the changeling before them. “Your Highness,” The Princess nodded her head in a small bow. “You are welcome to join us, if you like. I can offer you asylum here in Canterlot, so long as I am still in charge.”

“Aren't you simply placing me under arrest, little Princess?” Chrysalis asked with a buzzing hint of sarcasm. Lyra thought she was starting to get used to the multiple frequencies in her voice. She wondered if something as subtle as the arrangement of vocal cords might have promoted distrust between ponies and changelings through the years.

“No.” Cadance answered openly. “You will be free to leave if the shield comes down. It seems that you've done more to serve this kingdom and this city today than I have. In return, I can offer you a truce. Perhaps only for a day, but the offer still stands. I would like to hear more about your role in this, if you'd be willing to join us.”

The guard who spoke earlier looked unconvinced. “Your Highness, are you sure this is a good idea?”

“No.” Cadance again answered simply. “Forgiveness is not forgetfulness. But I would hardly be fit to rule if I couldn't muster up the courage to try. As I said,” Cadance hoisted Lyra up in her magic and set her across her back. “There is no more certain way to rid oneself of an enemy then by befriending one.”

From between Cadance's soft, feathered wings, Lyra patted her shoulder in agreement. Things were looking up after all. They'd get back to the Gardens, she'd tell them all that the threat of Discord was gone, and they'd probably get to hear Chrysalis's explanation of why she really tried to hijack the wedding. Something about Celestia's homeland across the sea? That would surely explain where the alicorn had gone off to, taking the Elements with her. It would all be revealed in time.

Except Lyra was sound asleep before they'd gone a single block.

28: The Brink

Twilight Sparkle's mind was a dark place. It was a large place, certainly, and it had been that way for as long as she could remember. She had a remarkable knack for distilling facts into discrete, functional systems and linking them all together until everything made sense. Her avid curiosity and untrammeled joy in learning and excelling had meshed perfectly with her devotion to her radiant mentor-

Pain flooded her being, again, and none of her vast knowledge seemed to help. Twilight's studies surrounding magic and friendship had kept her young heart open, her feelings vulnerable. She mourned Celestia's death as one who had no defense against the hurt, until she scarcely remembered to breathe. She was only beginning to understand the wisdom of jading one's feelings, and she bitterly wished she could afford herself such luxury.

In between bouts of sudden grief Twilight felt stunned. She was still reeling from how quickly things had changed, how quickly she had changed. It seemed like only yesterday that her world had centered around her friends and her studies. And now? Now Twilight had become intimately familiar with mistrust and deception, both the kind meant to protect and the kind meant to betray. She had discovered the various flavors of grief, and had felt the ripping, queasy sensation of one's entire life crumbling to its foundations. She'd seen terrible things, things that had slithered across her senses until her mind buckled underneath the sheer revulsion she felt. She was certain to have fuel for nightmares for decades to come.

And Twilight had tasted power, more power than she could possibly have conceived before this little vacation had started. The mere thought of it made her heart lurch with a giddy rush of adrenaline. Yet, oddly, what Twilight noted more than anything else was how natural the darkness had felt. It wasn't some obvious, cackling evil. Fear and anger and loneliness might not be fun, but they were as ordinary as breathing. Twilight was becoming increasingly convinced that power itself could be neither good nor evil. It must be the use to which power is put that would define its moral bearing. At least, that's what she was trying to convince herself.

Twilight Sparkle had taken a life. She had used the power she had stolen to end another sentient being's existence, and it had been as easy as blowing out a candle. And even though she knew in her mind and her heart that she should feel horrible guilt for what she'd done, she simply couldn't find much guilt inside her anymore. Even though her rationalizations never quite clicked, she still couldn't bring herself to regret what she'd done.

Twilight's mind was a dark place, and these thoughts chased each other around and around inside her skull, clamoring through her grief and her numbness alike, and try as she might she couldn't make sense of it all.

“. . . should haveta' take that risk.”

Everyone at the mahogany table had stopped talking to look in Twilight's direction. She'd zoned out, entirely missing whatever Applejack had been saying.

Her incomprehension must have been all over her face, because Rainbow Dash chaffed. “She didn't catch that. Again.” The sunlight cut through the dark room, illuminating only part of Dash's haggard face and untidy mane.

“Oh, do be patient.” Rarity admonished, “Twilight has been through more than enough.”

“Haven't we all?” Dash muttered, but there was little disagreement in her voice.

“Look, ah get it.” Applejack put her hooves up in a placating gesture. “We don't want ta stir the pot more'n we need to. But this here Yami fella, are you really so positive he don't already know we're comin'?”

There was a pause, and this time everyone turned towards Luna. The Princess's mane still flowed and sparkled like a vision of the night, but her cyan eyes were troubled and distant. “We are positive of nothing.” She spoke deliberately, as though desperate to impart the full meaning of her words. Or trying hard to force words past a lump in her throat. “This being, 'tis not of our world. It exceeds all of our. . . We have never actually seen. . . We know not if it is even aware of itself or of anything around it. Or perhaps it knows every facet of our lives and our pasts. The point being, we are simply loathe to waste a possible advantage, and turning the Elements against the curse below would surely do just that.”

“That's just it, yer Highness,” Applejack responded with quiet gravity, “Way things stand now, the slightest hiccup in our plans and Twi' here will haveta'. . . you know. I just don't think we should put our friend in that position again fer the sake of a 'maybe,' is all.”

Twilight had a retort ready, the denial jumping to her lips. There was no danger of her becoming a nightmare version of herself. None at all. She was in complete control.

Surprisingly, Fluttershy was quicker to speak up. “We can trust her.” The mare's melodic voice carried notes of strength and certainty. She'd kept her mane back in its ponytail and out of her face, still bound with strips of deep-green seaweed. “We need to trust her. She's our friend, after all.” A warm meal and about a gallon of water had done Fluttershy a world of good. While she could still use lots more rest, the color had returned to her cheeks, and her gaze didn't waver. She aimed a smile at Twilight and the effect was disarming. Twilight smiled back.

“Well of course she's our friend.” Pinkie Pie said. She was looking quite a bit like her old self again, if uncharacteristically somber. The chaotic spring had returned to her mane, if not to her eyes. “And of course we totally trust her and stuff, but. . . but seeing super-dark-and-ultra-scary Twilight made my tummy twist right around into an icky knot. And truthishly, I don't really want to see that again if I don't absatively have to.”

Twilight tilted her face forward, so her bangs fell in front of her face a little. She was secretly certain that she would need to embrace the Darkness below them to defeat this Yami thing, and having channeled that power she felt equally certain that nothing could stop her if she did. Absolutely nothing. But underneath that secret certainty was the feeling she was desperately trying to hide; that she really wanted a reason to do it, too. She wanted a reason to tap back into that power. And she had organized lots of very dispassionate and logical arguments to that effect.

But she had nothing to counter the look in Pinkie's eyes. That look of sadness and heartache. So she felt the sting of those words and said nothing.

Pinkie turned those soulful blue eyes away from Twilight. “And besides, isn't what we're doing now just an eensey-weensey bit more dangerous?”

Pinkie had directed the question at Princess Luna, but it was Rainbow Dash who answered. “We're flying a busted airship inland. . . over the crazy trippy black stuff filled with, what you ponies have told me, are the grossest creatures anypony has ever seen. Of course its dangerous! If this ship goes down, we might as well put a bow on it because that's a wrap.”

“No.” Twilight finally spoke, softly enough to not disturb Spike sleeping against her flank. “Nopony is in danger now. I can control it. If this ship goes down, I promise we will all be safe. Not to mention that we can use the Elements of Harmony at any time we might need to wipe this curse off the face of the continent. The risks are negligible.”

“What about the risks to you, sugarcube?” Applejack implored. “Everythin' we've ever known about dark magics tells us it's bad ta' dabble with'em. It just sucks you in, don't it?”

What would you know? The bitter thought came unbidden into Twilight's mind. You've never wandered down these paths before in your life. She knew better than to say such things aloud. That was probably her emotions, rather than logic making the argument. She passed the question off to Princess Luna with a glance.

“'Tis true, in a way,” Luna glanced away from the table as though ashamed to admit she'd ever had such experience to speak from. “The lure of such dark corners of the heart may become a snare, compelling one to revisit such darkness again and again.” Luna refocused on the circle of companions, meeting each set of eyes in turn. “However, young Twilight Sparkle possesses a strong will and stronger friends. We believe there is little to fear.”

Hah! Twilight found herself flooded by a justified satisfaction. See? Princess Luna herself knows I can handle it. I'm in complete control.

Applejack shook her head sadly. “I'm sorry, but y'all don't actually believe that, do ya yer Highness.” It was phrased as a statement, not a question.

Before Luna could reply, the colorful Kelbrri appeared in the doorway, looking agitated. Her feathers were ruffled, her pupils wide. “Prrrincess! We've. . . I've neverrr. . . You must come to the brrridge!”

“What could the problem possibly be?” Luna had already stood, moving to follow the gryphon. “We've hardly been flying for very long.” Everyone else stood with her. Twilight lifted Spike with a light glow of telekinesis, floating him gently in the air before her.

“Forty-six minutes and. . .” Pinkie Pie began, until all eyes turned towards her. She finished more slowly. “T-twelve seconds. Would be my guess. Heh.” She broke out a mostly genuine smile and shone it around.

“It's the horizon.” Kelbrri really did look distraught. She clacked her beak a few times, pinning her eartufts back as she did. “It's. . . we're. . . we seem to be rrrunning out, sort of. It's. . . we think we're nearing the edge of the world.”

“But the world is a sphere,” Twilight blurted, forgetting to keep her voice down in her astonishment. Before her, Spike stirred. “Everypony knows that.”

Spike's eyes blinked open, focused on the ground floating below him. His first instinct was to smile and stretch. Twilight distantly noted that living with her must involve getting used to waking up in odd places and odd positions.

Kelbrri nodded, a little too quickly. “Yeah, yeah we all know that. So, uh, maybe come take a look and see for yourrrselves?”

“Well, looks like the schoolbooks were all a lie, huh Twilight?” Spike shook his head, squinting into the wind.

“Well, that's what it looks like.” Rainbow threw an arm over Twilight's shoulders, her flight goggles obscuring the vibrant red of her eyes. “Feeling up to some serious textbook editing, egghead?”

“This isn't right.” Twilight squinted into the wind too, trying hard to understand exactly what her eyes were seeing. “This. . . isn't right.”

The friends had all clustered together on the bridge, scattered around the haggard first shift crew. Clouded Gaze was back at the helm after having slept off the effects of Sun Shade's dart, and she kept a steady bearing into the east. Other members of the crew checked instruments and made repairs, but the mood among the crew had grown as bleak as the topography below. Thistle's death had been a mighty blow, but Celestia's passing. . . everyone moved in various states of shock, and there was more than one who simply couldn't find the strength to work. Not yet anyhow. Those left running the ship were just going through the motions. Their hearts were no longer in it.

It didn't help that the front corner of the ship itself had been chewed up and the great bay windows destroyed. Aether's Vigil was no longer sleek and aerodynamic. As it limped through the air, the wind plowed straight into the faces of those running it, ruffling feathers and tousling manes. Cloud had located a pair of goggles, as had a few other crew members. But the wind was also cold, and the landscape twisty and nauseating.

At least the meeting of land and sky offered something else to take the mind off of how unpleasant it was to pilot the airship. The horizon failed to curve gently with the world in the way it was supposed to. Instead, it sort of cut across the edge of vision with a strange immediacy. The horizon was still far away, but it definitely wasn't as far away as it should have been. Twilight's thoughts stumbled. “Maybe it's an illusion. . . or something hidden behind a veil, something. . .”

“No. . .” Luna's tone was vague. “This surely isn't. . .” Her thoughts seemed to wander off with her voice, leaving silence behind.

“Luna,” Twilight began, “Didn't Teryn. . . um, didn't he say something about you knowing something? More than Celestia knew?” But the Princess didn't answer her, and Twilight didn't press the issue.

“If the world is really flat,” Pinkie asked nobody in particular, “I wonder what the other side looks like.”

“Ah reckon we'll be findin' out soon enough.” Applejack muttered, squinting hard and fiddling with her ponytail.

“Not while the sun is up.” Kelbrri said over the sound of the wind. “At our currrent speed, I think we should rrreach the edge beforrre dawn, though.”

“Then reduce our speed. Do not chance cresting the anomaly in the moonlight.” Luna cautioned. “We will make the final approach after we have raised the sun again.”

“Yes, your Highness.”

Twilight was troubled. Something Teryn had said to his sisters was bouncing around her head. Despite her new power, she felt afraid of what the morning sun would reveal.

The night passed uneventfully. The seven friends clustered together in the same room, trying to act like it was just a slumber party. They'd eaten, they shared each others company and they'd spoken of things great and small. They'd learned about the seemingly endless swimming Dash wouldn't stop talking about. Pinkie and Spike both gasped when Fluttershy told them all about the shark she'd met. If Twilight was quiet, well nobody held that against her. When it was time to at least try to sleep, nobody left. Instead they all made themselves as comfortable as they could in the same room, with most of them doubling up in the small beds the airship provided. Twilight didn't sleep much, and what sleep she did manage was troubled. When she woke up crying, Spike woke up too, and he nuzzled himself underneath her chin. It helped, a little, and she drifted back off into restless dreams.

For awhile, Sun Shade had wandered the airship like a derelict, devoid of destination and purpose, yet unable to sit still. Faces passed by as little more than concerned blurs, obstacles set in her path. When she'd finally realized that, unconsciously, she'd been searching the ship for Thistle Down, well. . . She'd been found curled up near the aft storerooms and gently walked back to her quarters.

She had become quite the mess, entirely unkempt and puffy-eyed. Shade had never been given to fits of emotion, but this was simply too much. So she cried in her room for awhile, even going so far as to throw some of her belongings about. She'd read of somebody doing it in a book somewhere, and she hoped it might help.

It did not.

Surprisingly, sometime after the sun had set, Shade found herself completely exhausted by her grief over Thistle's death. The pain hadn't eased, she simply hadn't the energy left to feel it quite so keenly. So her thoughts turned to the other friend she had lost, and the pain renewed itself, bringing with it a flood of rage. That changeling had betrayed them all, had lied about everything. It had made her care. . .

Shade wasn't completely aware of reaching a decision, she simply found herself trotting down unlit corridors she knew like the back of her hoof, avoiding third shift crew, with an unlit lantern in her jaws and her parasol slung over her shoulder. Shade sensed that fuel was being strictly rationed now that the airship was no longer whole. The bird still flew, but it was crippled. In a strange way, Sun Shade was glad Aether's Vigil was broken. It matched her heart.

Peeking around a corner, Shade spotted a a lone pony guarding the door to the engine room. Of course they posted a watch. Goddess forbid justice come at the hooves of mortal ponies. She silently unslung her parasol and sighted down a rib before noticing exactly who had been left in charge of the prisoner's safety. It wasn't anyone she'd been expecting. It was. . . She blinked. Oh.

Shade re-shouldered her weapon and retrieved her dark lantern before walking boldly into view. Clear Sky didn't react right away, and when he did stand his lost amber eyes didn't focus on her face. He even listed a little, as though even balancing on four hooves was difficult. Shade set the lantern down before the pegasus. “Let me by.” Her words shook, but not as much as she'd feared. She was certain the heat of her glare would make up for the weakness in her voice.

His eyes tracked to hers and they drew into focus, and Shade forgot about her own turmoil for a few seconds. There was nothing there, nothing left. In a flash of intuition Shade understood; his unuttered agony had clawed him up so badly inside he looked like he might never recover. She was confronted with the possibility that, spiritually, Clear Sky was bleeding to death right under their noses. She wondered if anyone else knew how badly he needed help.

But there was enough of him left to understand her intentions. His eyes drifted from her face to her weapon, then meandered to the steel rivets set in the wall. He shrugged. “Let. . .” His voice cracked and rasped with disuse. He cleared his throat. “Let me know if. . . if it helps.” At that he stretched himself out on the floor along one wall, laid his head down and stared off into the blackness beyond the reach of the light, leaving her a clear path to the door.

There she faltered. For the first time Shade began to really think about what she meant to do. Killing the insect wouldn't bring her friends or her crew back. It wouldn't change anything important. But it had to be done. That thing had donned feathers and a false smile and lies and. . . and even though it hadn't actually killed Thistle Down the slimy thing may as well have. After all, it was the reason she wasn't by his side when. . . when he. . .

She was not so weak as Sky, to be crippled and hampered by grief. She was a mare of decisive action. She was capable and strong. She would answer her pain by doing what needed to be done. She lit her lantern with shaking hooves and shoved her way fiercely through the door.

So, the night passed uneventfully for almost everyone. The storage compartment certainly seemed like the most uneventful place in the whole of the airship, especially once the crew found any excuse they could to abandon the place. They'd also killed the lights. Not that pitch dark was a particular problem, accompanied as it was by the nearby whirr of turbines, the hum of pumps, the clacking of relay switches. It was just. . . was lonely the word?

The changeling sighed, and his exhalation was accompanied by the rattle of chains as he shifted position on the cool metal grating of the floor. He could have lit the room with magic, but there would have been no point. He could see just fine. The problem was that there was nothing worth seeing. He'd fulfilled his mission to the best of his ability, and it was looking unlikely that he would get the chance to help any further. Honestly, he was lucky to still be alive.

He didn't feel lucky, though. Years of playing the same role, wearing the same disguise, it had begun to feel natural. A common enough job hazard when service to the hive warranted such an extended infiltration. But understanding the dynamic did little to ease the sense of loss hollowing out his chest. Although he would rather be dismembered and fed to the recyclers than admit it to his kind, he had grown attached to his food sources. Thistle Down had been more than just a good cover and a source of nourishment, he'd been a. . .

There were others too. Sun Shade had become remarkably close, for some reason enjoying his antics and his quirks. And her emotions had been rich, heartfelt and deep. Cloud, in her gruff way, had loved him, as had Reeds, and most everyone else aboard the Vigil. So while he could never have afforded to feed deeply off of any one being, he had never once gone hungry in the years he'd spent as a gryphon. Up until now.

But much of the personality, many of the quirks he'd developed as Pin Feather were honestly his, and the affection he'd felt flowing towards him was genuine. It was little wonder he'd begun to reciprocate the emotions. But then one little spell at the wrong moment, and everything he'd known was blown to shreds, and every close tie he'd forged over the last pair of decades was gone entirely.

He closed his eyes, and pressed the side of his face against the metal grate until the edges dug into his cheeks. But the physical discomfort was not enough to stop the liquid squeezing out from the corners of his eyes. Yes. . . yes lonely was the word. His body shuddered once more, the clinking of the chains melodic in the dark. He'd expended most of his reserves of energy through his gnarled horn, and he was feeling the breathy weakness that came with hunger.

Then the metal door bolt clanged with a reverberating detonation, accompanied by a harsh sliver of illumination. Lantern light cast a red glow over the far end of the narrow room. The changeling's pupils had fully adjusted to the dark, and the sudden light left him blinded, blinking spots out of his vision. At least he figured he had an excuse to rub his eyes.

Besides, he didn't need to see to identify the hoof-falls coming slowly towards him. This time of night, there was only one pony who would come to see him, and there was only one reason she would appear. He steeled his courage.

The intruder set the lantern down with her teeth, revealing Sun Shade's worn features. The normally styled earth pony had done some serious crying. Her eyes had an intense, bloodshot look to them, made stark by sunken pouches of skin. She had arrived armed, her frilly parasol slung over one shoulder. His mind quickly conjured four different ways she could kill him with it. Wait. . . Ugh. Five, counting the tiny acetylene torch near the tip. He was hoping for an overdose of numbing agent, but he admitted to himself he really wasn't feeling that lucky.

The changeling didn't bother standing. He just shifted into a position where he could better see Sun Shade's face. A face that, up until very recently, he would have been glad to see. The chains Luna had enchanted clanked again. “So.” His buzzing voice sounded alien even to him, since he hadn't heard it much over the years. “I take it they didn't leave Dasher on guard duty. Or did you drop her with your frilly crossbow?”

Shade's left eye twitched. “Stop talking like him.”

He wanted to retort in anger. What did she know about him? What did she think he was going to do? Beg for his life? Practically anything she could do to him here would be kinder than what the hive might have done had he turned on them. Or might do if they found out how defective he'd become, regardless of the outcome of his mission. But his anger bled away into the cold air around him. He'd deceived her after all was said and done, not the other way around. So he held his tongue.

She slid the parasol off her shoulder and held it with the tip pointing down. She wasn't threatening anyone yet. They remained in that silence for awhile, with Shade trying to control her breathing. “Sky.” She eventually said.

The changeling looked away and nodded. “Of course.” His eyes grew distant and his brow creased with concern. “How is he?”

Shade snorted. “Drop the act, bug. You aren't fooling anypony.”

That stung, and he failed to contain his bitterness. “Sorry, I forgot I was nothing but a soulless auto-mation.”

“Automaton.”

“I knew that.”

Shade's eye twitched again. “I said stop it. You're not Pin feather. You're a lie.”

“Ah,” The changeling stood, bringing himself up to eye-level with the mare. “But I'm the only Pin Feather you've ever met.”

“You know,” Shade took a trembling step forward. “I'd bet anything that Sky isn't the only member of the crew who would have let me in to see you.”

That hurt. That hurt a lot, actually. The hollowness inside his chest was filling up with pain. “He. . . he wants me dead too?”

“Not as badly as I do.” She growled.

“I didn't kill him!” The changeling shouted, his voice buzzing with fury. “I was trying to save him!”

His world exploded with white light and a deafening crack as the weighted umbrella caught him across the jaw. The world upended around him as he sprawled at the length of his fetters. A heartbeat later, and the weapon caught him in the soft curve of his stomach, making his dazed frame convulse in agony. He curled in on himself instinctively, letting his stiff carapace take the brunt of the punishment. Another three blows, four, and he felt something crack in the elytra covering his left wing, and he felt a tingling across his entire body as he cast a spell.

There was a gasp, and the blows stopped as Shade stumbled back, clumsily aborting her last swing. “Don't you dare!” Sun Shade whispered breathlessly.

He uncurled enough to scathe her with a glare. “What are you waiting for?” His voice no longer buzzed. Pin Feather lay before her, chained and helpless. “I thought you were going to kill me.” He was smudged with sand and grime, and his eyes welled with tears. “Well come on. Do it.” He panted.

“You monster.”

“M-maybe Sky wants to watch, huh? Did you ask him? G-go ask.” Pin Feather sniffled, rubbing angrily at his face. “M-maybe he'll ch-cheer you on.”

Shade rushed him, jabbing the tip of the parasol against the base of his neck and holding it there. “You don't have a soul.” She snarled.

“How would you know?”

She responded by driving the point harder against his spine. He tried not to twitch. He just panted and panted, his eyes squeezed shut. In a way, this was better. He'd lost the life he'd built in his second skin, and his hive would destroy him anyhow if they found out how compromised he'd become. He waited for Shade to find the courage to follow through. He wondered if they'd bother to bury him, or if they'd cast his body over the side like garbage.

Turbines whirred, pumps hummed, relay switched clacked, but they just barely failed to cover the sound of Sun Shade's labored breathing. Pin Feather cracked one eye open. The lantern light threw stark shadows across Shade's features, so he couldn't quite make out what she might be thinking, why she might be hesitating.

Then she spoke, words so devoid of strength they barely existed. He couldn't make them out. “W. . . what?” He asked.

“Say something!” Shade's voice was thin and panicky. “Just say something, anything!”

“I. . . I don't-” He felt the tip of the weapon push harder against his neck, and he gasped in pain. “Okay, alright, um. . . I lied about my age. I'm, uh, about four years younger than I said I was on my school application.” Amazingly, the pressure on his neck eased a fraction. She wants the truth? Fine. That's fine. She deserves that much. “I'm a changeling. A soldier drone hatched just north of the Badlands. I was selected for a special mission due mostly to my understanding of biology and medicine, my magical aptitude, and my optimism.”

Shade didn't speak, but he felt her twitch through the umbrella.

“Yeah, I know. There's not a lot of smiling that went on in my hive, but a few of us did. And, uh, not just when a drone was killed in a duel, you know? But I guess it's a trait that crops up genetically now and again. And it's a trait that, statistically, lends itself to success in long-term undercover missions. Or so I've been told.” He shrugged a little, mushed as he was on the floor grate. “I dunno, maybe they just got sick of me. But the job was an important one. A few engineering prodigies had been identified in the gryphon provinces, and they needed a leash on as many of them as they could manage. Seems I got assigned to the right one.”

Now what? “Uh, and gryphons have just the most disgusting diet of any carnivore, don't they? I mean fish, right? Give me a break. Fish just. . . smells like fish, doesn't it? It's so much worse than trying to choke down pony food. Hay might be tasteless and rough, but at least it doesn't wriggle when you swallow. Or look up at you with imploring eyes all like, 'Why would you eat me? I have a slimy fish husband I've known for all of eight seconds and a good 50,000 children. Also, I taste like fish, so everyone loses.' That's kind of why I developed a reputation for kitchen disasters. Kept expectations low.”

“And let me tell you, feathers suck. It took me months to adjust to the feel of them. They itched like crazy. . .”

Shade squeezed her eyes shut, and was seemingly unaware that she'd done so. “He'd,” She choked out. “He'd mentioned that. Said he thought you had fleas or something. When he first met you.” Her voice had softened.

Pin Feather snorted. “Thistle never said anything about. . . Oh.” His eyes studied old memories. “But that first week of chemistry, that's why he spilled permethryn all over me!”

“He did what?” A hint of lofty offense slipped into those words, a glimpse of the old Sun Shade.

“That sly pigeon. . .” His voice cracked on that last word, and his body trembled once.

Shade wilted, her ears drooping towards the floor. “You actually are him. . . aren't you? For as long as it's mattered. . .”

He wanted to throw a barbed quip in her direction. Instead he restrained himself with a sigh.

The pressure vanished, and Shade stepped back a pace. Her parasol looked as though it weighed a hundred pounds. “Pins. . . He's gone. . .” The words sounded like they were stuck in her throat. Her face crumpled as she said it.

“I know.” The image of her misted over, becoming a rose-hued blur. Then he jumped as something clattered at his feet, a coarse fabric brushing against his foreclaws. He blinked his eyes to find Sun Shade's weapon lying before him. He immediately knew he could free himself with it. He could probably even tranquilize Shade and impersonate her outside this little makeshift dungeon. It wouldn't be perfect, but it would buy him time. He glanced back up, beak agape.

“I loved him, did you know that?” Her mane had fallen into her face, obscuring her clenched eyes. Her crumpled features had become a bared-teeth snarl as she fought down her sobs. A high-pitched keen escaped her throat before the trembling in her shoulders eased a bit. She gulped in a breath. “Because I didn't. I didn't r-realize until. . .” She doubled over, the shakes intensifying.

Pin Feather hesitated, his ear tufts flat with dismay. He wondered whether or not he should say something, and he lifted a claw to reach out for her.

He recoiled as she began pounding the grate below her with a hoof, sharp clangs like cannon shots ringing in the confined space. Six or seven jarring impacts, and she stopped. Holding her hoof before her, she studied a small ruby droplet before it fell soundlessly, only to be replaced with another. Her breathing was a little more steady as she said in a whisper, “I don't know what to do anymore.”

Pin Feather chose his words carefully and spoke them deliberately. “So. . . Why. . .” With a tilt of his beak, he indicated the weaponized umbrella beneath him.

Worn eyes regarded him from between strands of black curls. “I. . . I was mistaken.” She tilted her head in a helpless sort of gesture. “I guess that's my form of an apology.”

Pin Feather reached down slowly and picked up the parasol, studying its length. His eyes moved along the ribs, and down to the functional bits cleverly embedded in the base of the central pole. He was fairly certain he could operate it confidently. With a grimace, he gravely offered it back to the trembling pony. Shade stared at it for several heartbeats, her heavy breaths making her mane sway. Then she pulled it from his grasp, slung it over her shoulder, picked up her lantern in her teeth and turned away. She left without saying another word. The loud clang of the door bolt echoed with a ringing finality, and the darkness returned.

The changeling swept a foreclaw through his crest, then yanked a couple of his feathers out with a savage twist. He regarded the pair of crushed feathers in the darkness. He still felt the splintered, rigid shafts and the soft vanes, forms held together by his magic. With a snarl he flung them into a corner and collapsed back onto the floor, accompanied by more rustling chains.

He'd given up a perfect chance at freedom for a distant chance at salvaging a friendship.

Oh, his hive would kill him for certain.

Twilight shivered, tremors starting at her shoulders and rippling through the rest of her body. She clung tighter to Spike, barely feeling his warmth through her numb limbs. When she bolted awake, her gasp turned to vapor in the moonlight. Nearby, someone stirred. “Twi?'” Applejack's voice shuddered. “Mmmf, who left the dag blamed window open?”

“Nopony did.” Fluttershy's words drifted like quiet snowflakes from her top bunk. “It's just been getting colder the longer we've flown.”

“Gah, I h-h-hate sh-sh-shivering!” Dash's teeth chattered as she spoke. “W-w-why are we up s-s-s-so h-high?”

“Maybe if you didn't sleep outside the covers all the time.” Pinkie's voice emerged from beneath a small, dark pile of blankets.

“Maybe if you didn't hog them all to yourself!”

“You kicked them onto me!”

Spike hadn't even stirred. Twilight draped him over her back for warmth, settling him atop her shoulders. She could tell that they weren't moving anymore. The Vigil's forward motion had stopped. She had a feeling, deep in her gut, that something wasn't right. Something big. “I'd like to find out. I'm headed to the bridge.”

Rarity yawned hugely, snuggling herself deeper under her covers. “Let us know in the morning, would you darling? This pony needs at least some sleep to function.”

Applejack stretched and stood, blinking her emerald eyes. “Well, I'm curious. Want us to grab ya anythin' while we're up, darlin'?”

“Oh, ha ha.” Rarity muttered.

“I'm coming.” Fluttershy began climbing down from the higher bunk.

“Me too.” Rainbow Dash staggered and yawned, her chaotic mane even more chaotic than usual, and matched by a super-frizzy tail. “I'd like to see how high up we are. Maybe I can break a couple of flying records before heading back to bed.”

Pinkie's pile of blankets tumbled to the floor in a heap, then scootched after the others as they walked out of the room, clearly intending to come along without giving up her bundled warmth.

A dramatic sigh wafted from Rarity's bunk. “Fine!” The covers were thrown back with a little more force than was necessary. “Should I never set hoof on an airship or an adventure ever again, it'll be too soon! Ooh! That is chilly! Now where is my mane brush!?”

The bridge was frosty. As in, there may have been actual bits of frost collecting in the corners. The flight crew had found weather jackets and blankets to bundle in as they worked, since the air flowing in through the broken windows was freezing cold and thin. Twilight scarcely noticed, enraptured as she was by the illimitable panoply of stars that swirled through the sky before her. Bright pinpricks of light sparkled in vast whorls from deep reds to pearl whites to sapphire blues. More stars than she had ever seen. It was a view of space unblemished by cloud or refraction or other light sources, despite the very faint glow of pre-dawn just at the bottom of what she could see. The majesty of the cosmos filled her heart, and a smile pulled at Twilight's lips.

“Um,” The pile of blankets shivered nervously. “Are we in space?”

“Pinkie, there's no air in space.” Rainbow admonished.

“Not a lotta air goin' on up here, that's fer sure.” Applejack muttered. “I'm already panting like Granny Smith pullin' a cart.”

Luna stood between the controls and the broken windows, staring into the deepest night without a single shiver. She'd probably stood there all night. Twilight shook off her wonder enough to address her. “P-princess,” Now her muscles were beginning to spasm, trying desperately to keep her warm. “Why are we f-flying so h-high up?”

Luna didn't answer. As Twilight approached, she noticed that the alicorn's pupils had shrunk, and focused on nothing. She stood tall, her legs locked into place and her head held high, yet she took no notice of anything around her. A twinkle caught Twilight's eye, starlight reflected from a single drop that rolled off Luna's chin and fell at her hooves.

“We aren't high up.” Clouded Gaze answered for her from the panel of switches and gauges behind them. Her eyes were wide, and her gruff voice held a note of awe that Twilight had never heard before. “Check the altimeter. We're still close to sea-level. We're not. . . It's. . .” The steel-feathered gryphon stammered to a stop, panting hard.

Twilight glanced around, noticing the three other crew members in similar states of near-panic. She looked again out the windows, but there was no horizon, no ground to speak of. Just sky and more sky. “Then where in the hoof are we?” She asked the room. Nobody offered an answer. So she turned towards the windows.

“Don't!. . .” Cloud reached out a foreclaw as though to pull Twilight back.

Twilight felt a sudden stab of fear. There wasn't anything dangerous, of that Twilight felt certain. Not yet, anyway. But her hooves felt like blocks of iron as she dragged each one forward. She knew she needed to look, she needed to see what had struck the Princess and the rest of the crew speechless. So as desperately as she didn't want to, she forced herself forward. Each step revealed more sky, growing lighter the further down she looked.

Twilight stopped and splayed her limbs against a sudden wave of vertigo. The innocent sky before her spun circles as her eyes convinced her body that the airship was pointed upwards, even as her body told her it wasn't. She couldn't make sense of it. The sensation was so strong that when Twilight picked up her next hoof her mind and her body couldn't agree on where to put it. She collapsed onto her belly like a scared little foal.

So she pulled herself forward, inching closer to the gelid air skirling around the edges of the windows. When she finally reached the jagged bits of glass and carefully peered over the rim, she saw. . .

Oh. . .

I'm not the one devouring the world.

Celestia. . .

Yami has never left.

Help us. . .

And continues to seek the heart of this planet.

The world dropped straight out from under her, plunging into a distance her mind failed to grasp. The scene before her looked unreal, like a painting of a dream. The sun rose just above some distant line far below her, casting its searing light into her eyes. To one side of her, a brightly-lit crescent of bare rock flung itself in a curve towards a vanishing point, vile gray overlaid with a thin turquoise and backlit by stars. The sun rose over something Twilight Sparkle could not name a crater, because it was the whole world. . .

The simple act of trying to follow the rim with her eyes made her feel like she was being physically sucked out of the window, and the air gently streaming past her and plunging over the cliff beneath her added to the effect. For a moment her eyes couldn't help but follow the flow of the wind into the vast bowl below her, a steep fall that, she was convinced, would have lasted for hours before she reached the shadows and burst against the rocks.

And the sun continued to rise upwards into space, revealing the immense gulf of the world that used to be. And deep in the very center of this crater, distant clouds massed, fed by atmosphere bleeding down every inch of the vast rim.

Celestia had wondered whether or not their planet had ever been alive. Twilight finally had irrevocable proof that it was most certainly dead. Their world was nothing but a rotted husk now, a corpse spinning through space. The rest of the world simply didn't know it yet. But the image before her was too big to take in all at once. Her gaze jumped around, from the boggling length of the rim to the crystal clear view of space to the myriad of stars still visible despite the sun's commanding presence to the endless sweep of the plunge beneath her to the maelstrom unveiling below her one impossible mile after the next.

Her mind limped back into motion.

She scrambled backwards towards her friends while her brain began processing numbers. There were questions, friendly voices filled with concern, but the entirety of her mind had bent to the task of trying to fit what she'd seen into something she could understand. Someone nearby was whimpering.

“Land's sakes, sugar, what's out there?”

The words nearly penetrated Twilight's awareness, so she spoke out loud to preserve her train of thought. “. . .radius estimated at three thousand, nine hundred and fifty-nine miles with a slight equatorial variance. . .”

Pinkie threw her blankets off. “I wanna see.”

“I don't think you do.” Spike said. His green spines had drooped, and he placed one worried claw on Twilight's shoulder. Pinkie stopped in mid-stride, uncertain.

Luna addressed the empty air before her. “You were right sister. It sought us. For ages it has sought to devour us. We simply never guessed. . .”

“. . .volume of a sphere is roughly %52.4 the volume of a cube, or four-thirds pi times the radius squared. . . no no no cubed. . .”

“Ugh, math?” Rarity stood in the doorway. “What is she talking about? Why does everypony look so alarmed?”

“I'll tell ya.” Rainbow trotted fearlessly to the edge and peered over, the sun illuminating her chin from below. “It's just - Oh hoof me sideways!. . .” Her voice cracked. Her eyes widened and her muscles tensed, her feathers rustling like leaves on a tree.

“Well,” Rarity let her breath out in a huff. “That was both unhelpful and inappropriate.”

Spike crawled forward on all-fours, peeking out bravely from between Rainbow's hooves. After a long moment he scooted backwards on his haunches. His eyes shut slowly, his brow creasing as he shook his head back and forth. Despite his efforts, he started crying softly.

That sound triggered something in Twilight, who snapped alert and immediately rushed over, scooping the whelpling up in her arms and holding him to her chest.

“Let me try!” Pinkie squared her shoulders and marched forward, joining Dash in staring. “Oh gosh! We've seen some crazy stuff, but this takes the cake! And the pie!” She exclaimed brightly.

“Fer the love of oats. . .” Applejack rolled her eyes.

“Oh! Sorry AJ. The big bad is eating the whole world like a giant caramel apple. Which is mean and horrible and really really pretty at the same time. You know, like neat to look at.”

“Like a caramel apple?” Fluttershy sounded doubtful.

“Mmm-hmm. Everypony else is right.” Pinkie nodded her head decisively. “Words are kind of weak and flimsical. Just come look for yourselves.”

The rest of the companions walked forward together, their eyes taking in the panorama below.

Luna's eyes had closed. “Is this what you saw?” She asked nobody. “Is this why you were frightened, Chrysalis? Did you gaze upon the end of all things?”

Applejack had to try a couple of times before any words emerged. “We. . . We gotta go down there, huh?”

Luna nodded. “Yes.” Her words were as empty and frozen as the air. “We do.”

“Good.” The sheer strength of the word drew every eye in the room. Fluttershy stood panting in the thin air, the end of her pink ponytail swaying in the breeze and the jewel at her throat softly aglow. Across the backs of her eyes padded, scuttled, slithered and rustled all the lost lives, the lost families, the lost communities, whole ecosystems consumed and corrupted into oblivion. Every line of her lean form radiated outrage, from the arch of her neck to the tips of her flared wings to the wide set of her hooves. Her nostrils flared, and her lips parted in a snarl.

“Good.”

Twilight locked her eyes onto Fluttershy, taking in the confidence of her friend's stance and the determination in her eyes. If this timid pegasus wasn't afraid, if she could find a way for her heart to bear up under the weight of what they had to do, maybe Twilight could too. At that sight, Twilight's breathing began to slow and her heart stopped trying to thump itself to pieces. Fluttershy's strength was like a beacon, causing Twilight to blush a little at the memory of the weakness in her own reaction. And as she relaxed, the green spines in her embrace relaxed as well, muffled sobs tapering into whimpers.

At the helm, Clouded Gaze shook her head no, the whites of her eyes shining. “We can't take the Vigil down there. No way. There's absolutely no way.” She stated firmly.

“She's rrright.” Kelbri shivered, pacing near the windows. “In airrr this thin, we'rrre hardly generrrating any lift at all! We'd prrractically be in frrreefall forrr the firrrst parrrt of the trrrip down!”

“So?” Dash added breathlessly. She was still gazing down into the crater, shielding her eyes from the sun with a hoof. “We make good time. What's the big deal with that?”

“Maneuverability, for one thing.” Twilight muttered over the quivering dragon in her arms. She shifted him slightly so she could run a shaky hoof through her mane. “We might not be able to turn, or slow our descent when the edge of the crater starts to curve towards us.”

With a deep sigh, the Princess of the Night turned away from the view. “Mayhap our magic can provide adequate assistance, preserving us down the rim.”

“Possibly makin' us obvious as spots on a cow?” Applejack sidled next to Twilight, helping to sooth Spike with a gentle hoof even though her own voice shook. “Y'all were the one sayin' we should try and be sneaky, right?”

“Hey, yeah!” Pinkie bounced over. “If we're gonna do that, we might as well go all Super Harmony Formation and Mop'N'Glo this snooty curse!”

“Pinkie, nngh. . .” Dash slapped a hoof against her face, turning away from the brink. “You make channeling the powers of creation sound like some cheesy foal's story book.”

“Yeah.” Pinkie conceded, stifling a shiver. “But I got you to stop feeling so overwhelmed, didn't I?” Her wide, sapphiric eyes caught the light.

“Uh, that's. . .” Dash sputtered. “Well, wait. . . w-who said I was feeling overwhelmed?” She glanced around, concealing chagrin.

“Perhaps 'tis best. . .” Luna offered hesitantly. “We ought disperse what evil we may ere we attempt the fall. 'Tis true the Vigil will not survive the descent unaided. Perhaps undue caution will simply. . . impede our progress.”

Cloud snorted in frustration. “That's not the pr-”

“Forget the trip down!” Applejack interrupted. “Do we even have a plan for what we're gonna do if we find this thing? I mean, just look at what it's been doing! We can't fight something like that! It's eatin'. . . I mean. . . Land's sakes. . .”

“She's absolutely correct.” Rarity fiddled with the gemstone at her throat. “The Elements of Harmony did not suffice, Princess. Even the essence of magic could not reach whatever was left of Teryn's soul. We've no evidence to suggest that this other creature will be any easier to subdue.”

There's one thing stronger than the Elements. Twilight thought. And there, in a bright moment of revelation, she knew what she would do. Of course. Of course. It's our best chance. She hugged Spike tighter to her chest. The beckoning shadows below them had been right all along. There was no other way.

“Oh, it's worse than all that.” Cloud shivered, her feathers puffing out in agitation. “We'd never make it back up the side of that crater. Even if we could generate lift in air this thin, our fuel wouldn't hold out. Not over that kind of distance. We have to retreat and come back better prepared, or none of us will ever make it home again.”

“That is not an option.” Luna insisted. “We can not turn aside. Our planet will not endure more loss. Soon, the simple act of spinning the world on its course will cause it to shatter, and life as we know it would end, everywhere.”

There were general gasps and murmurs. Rarity managed to look even paler than usual. Twilight simply nodded and rose to her hooves, setting Spike gently down. She paced back up to the windows, fighting another wave of vertigo as she did. She stood next to Fluttershy, her breath escaping in thick clouds of vapor simply to be pulled gently over the edge and down the rim of the crater with the gelid air.

The panorama was as breathtaking as the first time she glanced down, stretching her eyes until they hurt. Twilight blocked the sun with a hoof, wondering how Fluttershy could simply stand and stare. Wasn't the sunlight searing the backs of her eyes?

Applejack sat and wrapped her tail about her legs for warmth, including Spike in the gesture. He dried his eyes with the end of her tail. “Even if we all go down there and make it safe and so on, what is the point?” She implored. “I'm all for bravery and such, but this seems an awful lot like suicide.”

“You're right.” Every eye on the bridge turned to Twilight. “Aether's Vigil wasn't made for this journey. We can't take it down there.”

“Thank you.” Cloud sighed.

“Then what do you propose we do, darling?” Rarity asked.

As she took in the sight of her friends, with Spike clinging wide-eyed to a worried Applejack, Rainbow Dash actually looking shaken, Pinkie Pie throwing herself back under her discarded pile of blankets. . . her eyes misted over a little. But that didn't stop her heart from lurching into a thumping gallop out of sheer nervous excitement.

“I'm certain we'll c-come up with something.” Twilight stammered. She hoped it looked like a shiver from the cold.

“I agree with Applejack.” Rarity sidled over the bundle of blankets swathing Pinkie Pie and snagged one off the top, draping it around her shoulders like a shawl. “We need to have a plan if we wish to proceed.”

“'Tis wisdom, thy desire for strategy. However, 'tis not wisdom we lack, but knowledge. Any plan we devise will likely be rendered obsolete by an understanding of what we face.” Luna said.

“That's no excuse for not havin' a plan in the first place.” Applejack countered.

“A plan for what?” An accented voice preceded an earth pony, raven black curls emphasized by a lace-brimmed cobalt hat. Every eye on the bridge turned towards her, making Sun Shade blush a little. “I'd love to know what I've missed.” Her eyes were still red and puffy, but her hoofsteps were determined as she strode into the room, adjusting her parasol over one shoulder.

Kelbrri's chestnut eyes shimmered, her eartufts pinned back. “Welcome back to us, Miss Shade.”

“It is wonderful to see you well.” Rarity nodded deeply.

“You gave us a fright, SS.” Cloud added.

“Thank you, everypony. I'm. . .” Shade blinked several times. “I'll be all right. I just. . .” Her eyes scanned the windows, unfocusing as they did. All she could see from where she stood was a slowly brightening sky and no horizon. “Should we really be flying this high up? What cloud level is this?”

In response, Cloud just whistled through her beak and buried her face in her claws. Pinkie Pie bounced over, once again a swathed mound of blankets. “Come see! The world looks like a mooshed ping-pong ball and we're afraid of the airship going too fast so we're thinking of making rainbow-explosions although we might become a glowy neon sign to the evil thingy-thing. These're just ideas. Chilly?” A pink hoof shot out, proffering a cheap but warm-looking blanket emblazoned with a giant Wonderbolts insignia.

Sun Shade took the blanket with an amused expression. “Um, translation anyone?”

Spike's voice shivered through the frozen air. “Where's Twilight?”

The wind was the only reply. The companions glanced at one another, but Twilight was nowhere to be seen.

29: Fracture

Aether's Vigil dwindled into the distance as Twilight fell, her mane and tail streaming above her. Strands flicked violently around her face, forcing her to squint to see. The vertical wall sped past her, shadowy tendrils of the curse reaching ever upwards towards the rim. Her heart lurched with adrenaline as she reached out a hoof into the streaming air, flipping herself over. She felt certain that the rocks would reach up to crush her, so she reached for her magic.

There was no need. The drop below her yawned endlessly into a vague distance before her eyes teared up from the wind. She shivered in the frigid gale of her plummet, unwarmed by the pale, distant sun, and she let her magic go. Her initial calculations may have been accurate, actually. She probably had hours upon hours to contemplate her choice before she would have to join once again with the shadows. Twilight closed her eyes against the wind and bit back her screams.

Not that I have to wait. The thought slithered through her mind, adding to the fluttery panic of her freefall. She would need the darkness. Her certainty was absolute. The might boiling and seething in a rush past her seemed unfathomable, and when it was wielded it had proven to be stronger than the Elements themselves. Once she found this threat and eradicated it, she could make her way back to the airship and clean this curse up. But she held back for now, reveling in the strength of her will as she skimmed the writhing shadows like a filly skimming a flame with her hoof, daring the fire to burn her.

A wisp of doubt flitted through her the back of her mind. How many promises was she breaking with this one act? It appalled her to the core to know just how completely she had failed to find a non-violent path. Hadn't she learned to trust her friends? Hadn't she learned, at times harshly, to trust that her friends were her greatest source of strength?

Twilight's violet eyes shed drops of moisture into the wind. No. She thought. Friendship is just another form of power, the safest form of power. Celestia had tried to keep her student from the truth to preserve her from the risk. And now she's gone. Even alone, Twilight was glad to have the wind as an excuse for her tears.

But she wasn't alone for long. Twilight counted down in her head, eventually spinning in time to see a blue dot appear against the brightening sky above her. She spread her limbs into the biting wind, controlling and slowing her fall as best she could. She figured Dash would have the good sense not to break the sound barrier, giving away her presence dramatically; but she didn't want to give her a reason to, either.

She needn't have worried. The blue blur sped silently towards her, swift as an arrow, until she drew close enough to make out her crimson eyes and vibrant mane. With practiced ease, Rainbow Dash angled towards her heart and spread her arms to catch her. But at the last second Twilight rolled through the thin air, spinning out of reach.

“Oh, seriously?” Dash called out, swooping back around. “You really think you're doing this all on your own?”

“I have to!” Twilight called out, her spin slowed by her outstretched limbs.

“Horsecrap!” Dash flitted over, stabilizing Twilight's spin without slowing her. She tucked her own wings in and joined her friend in freefall. “You'll die on your own! Is that what you want!?”

Twilight struggled to speak past mouthfuls of her violent mane. “I'll be fine!” She tried to gesture towards the nearly vertical wall of crawling darkness. “There's so much power here!”

Twilight set the world about her spinning with the careless gesture until Dash's strong hooves steadied her again. “There's a whole ship full of your friends willing to lay down their lives for you, and all you. . .”

“That's the point!” Twilight screamed into the wind. “There's been too much death already! Can't you see that?” Dash's intense, angry glare lost its focus, and Twilight pushed her advantage. “Nopony else is going to die, okay? Not if I can help it! Rainbow, I don't. . . There's just so much. . . You'll just have to trust me, okay? I'll make it back, I promise.” Twilight reached across the space between them to cover Dash's hoof with her own. “I know what this must look like. With Cele. . . w-with everything that's happened, it must look like I'm giving up, or giving in. But I'm not. I swear to you I'm not.”

“No.” Dash's voice was difficult to hear over the roar of their plummet. “You'll just turn all evil again, wont you? And what happens when you come back to us and end up trying to kill us, huh? What are we supposed to do then?”

Twilight was silent for a long moment before she drew Dash closer. She said, “Then, throughout Equestria, they will sing songs about the heroic pegasus Rainbow Dash, who pummeled the sinister Nightmare Sparkle before she could bring about eternal dusk.”

Dash snorted, and the ghost of a smile played across her lips. “And you deserve a pummeling for saying that.” She shook her head. “But you're missing the point.”

“This is the point.” Twilight pushed away, gliding backwards a little. “If this darkness isn't power enough, then we never had a chance to begin with.” She met Dash's gaze, daring her friend to contradict her. The pegasus glanced away first. “You know I'm right, Dash. Please, just. . . Just tell the others I'll be back as soon as I can. Tell them to wait for me.”

Rainbow Dash sighed heavily. She nodded slowly, her brow creased in thought. She ran an idle hoof through her mane while her soft blue coat rippled in the cold air. “Yeah. . .” Dash spread her wings again, and her eyes became as hard as rubies. “That's not gonna happen.” She blurred forward to catch the falling unicorn.

Instead, in a flash of violet light, Twilight was alone once again.

“Follow her.” Fluttershy stood tall by the edge of the ship, her tail a banner in the breeze.

“It's. Too. Dangerous.” Cloud clipped the words with sharp snaps of her beak.

Sun Shade held up a hoof. “How do we know she jumped? Couldn't she have fallen by purest accident?”

“Without makin' a sound?” Applejack glared out at the brightening sky. “She ain't that helpless.”

“I can't believe her. . .” Spike's voice barely made any sound. “She left us again. . .”

Fluttershy took a pair of steps towards the Vigil's control panels, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “We need to follow her.”

“There now, sugar.” Applejack stroked a hoof over trembling purple scales. “I'm sure Dash'll bring her back in a jiffy. You'll see.” But his balled-up claws didn't unclench.

“Dash wont be able to stop her.” Pinkie had let her blankets fall forgotten to the floor. “And she wont be able to talk her out of it either.”

Spike's little chest heaved.

“You'rrre talking about mass suicide!” Kelbri's colorful feathers all stood on end.

“The darkness shall ill serve Twilight's purpose.” Luna's words rang with authority. “She will fail. And should we all become very, very lucky. . . she will die.” The Princess of the Night swept the room with her gaze, silencing any response. “'Tis suicide now to remain here.”

There was a blinding flash of light and a loud thud as Rainbow Dash reappeared and flattened against the hard floor. “Unh. . .” She moaned, twitching a wing weakly. “Yeah. . . She jumped all right. . . Stupid, purple, window-licking lunatic. . . Ugh, sorry Princess. . .”

Fluttershy climbed up over the control panel, bracing her hooves on the edges. She leaned forward until the bridge of her nose met the tiny feathers between Cloud's eyes. Her wings were spread towards the ceiling, and her eyes were bloodshot and intense. Cloud felt hot breath on her beak. “Follow her.” Cloud could actually hear the pony's teeth grinding together. “Now.”

The stoic Clouded Gaze shivered.

Twilight fell.

She fell and fell and fell and fell and fell and fell and fell and fell. The jittery, breathless sensation of freefall eventually faded into a frigid nausea. Her stomach rebelled against its mistreatment, against the constant spinning and weightless yawing. It gurgled angrily over how empty it felt, and for awhile it waged a valiant war, its only aim to wrap itself around Twilight's backbone. Eventually, even her stomach gave up complaining, and Twilight fell through a numb, empty roar of silence.

She pulled in her limbs, streamlining herself and aiming herself away from the almost imperceptible curve of the crater wall. She was no expert in aerodynamics, but she felt the air deform around her, pressing against her like a taut, chilly fabric, preventing further acceleration. What was it called in the books? Terminal velocity? For a time a small part of Twilight reveled in the speed, and the sense of power it brought. She wondered if this was anything like what Rainbow Dash felt when she flew.

Yet Twilight hadn't been at all prepared for how taxing it would be to simply fall. Soon enough, her muscles began to ache. A trickle of magic helped to keep her from freezing, but she was powerless to fight the strain of holding herself rigid. The constant series of subtle adjustments she needed to keep herself pointed the right direction took their toll. Her tense back and shoulders radiated pain down all four of her limbs, and a thick headache throbbed behind her temples.

Fortunately, after awhile she no longer noticed how difficult it was to breathe, but she couldn't ignore the wind. After a time, the wind no longer blew against her. Instead it struck her, lashed her, flayed every inch of her body. Despite the protection of her fur, she eventually felt as though the air itself would be enough to peel her skin off in tattered strips. But despite all of this, she didn't fight it. She tried to accept her suffering, embracing it as a welcome distraction from the turmoil in her soul. She allowed herself nothing in the way of respite, and her whimpers of pain reached no one’s ears. Not even her own.

As hours passed, and the sun arced higher and higher through the looming bowl of the sky, Twilight found herself wondering what Yami might look like, what it might be. She imagined a creature of colossal size, with spindly limbs and a maw filled with razor-sharp teeth. Or maybe it was a massive fungal creature, composed of legions of smaller, identical creatures. That might be difficult to kill. Or maybe it was something entirely different from anything she'd conceived before. Maybe it was a giant smoke monster, or a being composed entirely of light, born in some distant star.

As the day began to wane, the sun moving towards the crater's near rim far above, the ground finally began to curve towards her. Her heart lurched in anticipation as she spread her limbs to slow her fall. She reached out with her mind, and her body trembled as blackness seeped into her coat. Her pain vanished between one heartbeat and the next, and ferocity sang in her veins. She let out a breathless laugh, then another. She would finish this now.

“This is certainly unsettling!” Rarity shouted.

“You mean terrifyin'?” Applejack shouted back from right beside her. “You meant terrifyin', right?”

“On the contrary,” Sun Shade grinned, “I find the sensation invigorating!”

“And that's just another word for awesome!” Dash's voice cracked. She stared with wide eyes through broken windows as the airship plunged nose-first down the steep slope of the crater wall. The shadowy tendrils of the curse were muted by the rounded cobalt shield Luna had formed to keep the wind at bay.

“No, I'm certain I said the word 'unsettled.' As in I don't feel. . .” Rarity's voice trailed off into a squeak as her hooves gently left the nearly vertical floor. She quickly wrapped her arms around the tether attached to her harness. “. . .Quite settled.”

Rainbow Dash ignored her distress. “Hey Cloud, how fast are we going?”

“Uhh. . .” Cloud's knuckles were pale, her expression grim. “I'd say two-hundred and ten knots.” She swallowed thickly. “Maybe two-twenty. Kelbrri?”

“Two hundrrred forrrty-seven!” She trilled. “And holding!”

“Krearrk save us. . .” Cloud muttered.

Pinkie Pie hung suspended in the air, twirling about in slow, pink somersaults. “Oh, good!” She chirped. “D'you think we're going faster than Twilight was?”

“Ohoho yeah!” Dash laughed. Tremors of excitement ran up and down her outstretched wings. “We're doing about double her speed. She's had, what, a half-hour head start?” A careless grin quirked the corner of her mouth. “It should only take us fifteen minutes to catch up.”

“Pardon, but I do believe you're mistaken on the math.” Shade maintained her polite tone, but she spoke her words more firmly than she needed to.

“What do you mean?” Dash asked. “If we are going twice the speed, it'll take us half the time to catch up. It's simple math, Shade.”

Shade shrugged delicately. “No arguments there, 'tis quite simple. But if we fell for fifteen minutes at twice Twilight's speed, we would simply be where she was fifteen minutes ago. You see?”

Dash's eyebrows twitched, then without further preamble they clashed together dramatically above her eyes. “What. . . Huh?”

Pinkie, her tether cord neatly coiled from her slow twirls, released her hooves and let the cord spin her like a top as the built up tension released. “Wheeeeeeeee!”

“Dash, maybe y'all oughtta leave the mathin' to the engineers.” Applejack shot with a glare. “Pinkie, knock it off.”

Rarity and Sun Shade shared an amused smile.

Luna spoke. “In what manner didst she fall?”

All the smiles in the room vanished. “We beg pardon, your Highness?” Rarity offered.

Luna's hooves were planted solidly in the middle of the floor, her long horn awash with gentle light. Her gaze never wavered from the Vigil's steep course. “In what manner.” Her tone was grim. “Didst she fall.”

Dash suddenly realized who the Princess was addressing. “Oh, uh, with her hooves out, like this.” Dash hovered, scarcely using her wings as she stretched her hooves out in all four directions.

Luna's silence spoke volumes on the subject of disappointment. Applejack pinched the bridge of her nose with a hoof and sighed. “Rainbow. . .”

“I know, right?” Dash's smile returned. “That's, like, the slowest way to fall. She is such an egghead sometimes!”

“Rainbow!” Rarity interjected. “What if Twilight, oh I don't know, tried to slow herself down when you showed up? What if she's falling faster now?”

“She's not.” Dash replied earnestly.

“And how do you know?”

“Because,” Dash replied. “If she is, we'll never catch her in time.”

All around Twilight shadows seethed like opaque magma, roiling past her across the uneven ground. The distant sun had long ago been blotted out by thick, listless clouds underscored by silent, crawling flickers of lightning. There was no storm, the heart of the crater was far too dead and lifeless to harbor that kind of energy. The clouds simply spun like an endless carousel, damned in an eternally meaningless spiral. There were very few pale ones dragging their ghostly forms amongst the broken boulders and scree. Perhaps they were driven gently by the flow of shadows, or maybe they they only sought a warm pulse, coaxed towards the shoreline seeking the unreachable creatures thriving beneath the ocean's surface.

Twilight darted through the miasma, slipping effortlessly forward. The dark currents of power coursing through her veins buoyed and propelled her, and her hooves scarcely touched the slope. The scattered pale ones took no notice of her, and the tendrils of the curse barely rippled at her passing. She felt deadly, and she dared the universe to place anything, absolutely anything in her path. Her fetlocks itched with power, as though she couldn't wait to drive a hoof through something. It took more than a modest amount of restraint to keep herself from smashing nearby boulders as she flew past. A feral grin knifed across her features.

The power coursed through her body, and she felt it from her crest to her tail. But the power also coursed through her mind. Her thoughts drifted back to Ponyville, to the friendly and colorful faces that made up her home. Twilight shook her head. None of the ponies she'd come to care about had the vaguest clue how dangerous their world was. As the sun fled the world over the rim far above, Twilight imagined the residents of her cozy hamlet sleeping soundly, or rising from their beds and preparing for the coming day without the slightest clue how much sacrifice was required to preserve the harmony in their lives.

Even some of Twilight's previous triumphs in the face of evil went largely unappreciated by the population as a whole. The thought was not new, but the emotions around the thought had grown. She was filled with an overwhelming and entirely justified disdain for the petty troubles and drama that composed their lives. She cared for them, sure. Were they worth fighting for? Well, yes. They were all just so incredibly small.

But she had no time to marvel at the simplicity of her hometown and its cares. As the miles bled away beneath her, the ground had sort of begun to level out. The thin chill in the air had been replaced with an oppressive mugginess. There wasn't a single growing thing anywhere in this gaping scar, and the atmosphere had nowhere to go. So it sat and stagnated until it tasted like warm mildew. She wondered if she was close enough to the center to find Yami.

She opened her senses as she closed her eyes, feeling gently outward in every direction. Her mind instantly filled with a castrophony that stretched her mind and drove her to her knees. Details leapt up like corpses out of a massive graveyard. Every twist and gnarl of rock writhed torment towards the sick, grey clouds. Every shambling creature was a silent scream, every shift of shadow rancid sandpaper against her brain. She should have been revolted instead of exultant, but the power sustained her, comforted her, assured her she was equal to anything. Through the metaphysical din she combed, searching for the heart of it, searching for a thread that might lead her to the corrupted center, but. . .

Something else tickled the back of her mind. A cold, clear suggestion of familiarity. With grim focus she blocked out everything else, and. . . It was them. Aether's Vigil had pursued her into the crater, and even now it scraped through the scree and living oil, abrading her senses.

I don't believe it. She knelt, stunned, They followed me. Her hoof slammed into a nearby rock, shattering it and its neighbors into dust. Why couldn't they just LISTEN!? Can't they trust me for one hoof-rotted day? The shadows lashed around her in agitation, rippling outward. Those stupid, ignorant, helpless IDIOTS! If I end up losing the element of surprise here. . . She seethed, her head flicking back and forth between her friends and the direction she assumed her quarry lay. She thought that maybe. . . maybe she detected a small hint that Yami was out there. A faint heartbeat, a darker undercurrent beneath the greater mass of this cursed land.

She panted in the humid air, her coal-colored hooves reflected in her eyes. She honestly couldn't tell which path was right. Her friends may have needed her help, but they had Luna with them. They'd probably be fine. But if Twilight couldn't find and destroy this demon, they would all be dead soon anyway. They can take care of themselves. . . Can't they?

The hours stretched one into the other, blurred by the constant howl of wind beyond the Vigil's hull and the absolutely improper angle the ship was forced to descend at. Not to mention the fact that gravity had stepped out for the occasion, leaving Rarity's mane, hooves and stomach to simply flounder about in the most undignified manner possible. She kept involuntarily flicking her head or raising a hoof to convince her curls to adhere to the regimen they'd agreed upon, but it was a sorely lost cause.

Her eyes tracked around the bridge, noting the tension, the fear, the dismay, the quiet desperation. She lingered on the purple ball of dragon scales wrapped in Applejack's arms. The lines around Rarity's mouth tightened. Doesn't Twilight know what she's doing? She thought to herself. Surely she must understand the pain and worry she's causing all of us.

Her stomach growled then, a deep grumble that seemed to say I agree. What was she thinking? About a dozen eyes fixed on her, and Rarity felt a hot flush rise to her cheeks.

Applejack chuckled. “Yup. Reckon we could all use some chow.”

“Abso-friggin'-lutely.” Dash nodded sagely just before her hoof shot to her nose. “Not it.”

“I'll go.” Sun Shade offered.

“Naw.” Applejack shifted, revealing a sleeping Spike. “I'd like to stretch my hooves, if y'all don't mind.”

He appeared so small and vulnerable in that moment, she couldn't resist. “I'll take him.” Rarity offered.

Applejack unhooked her harness and drifted lightly towards her, looking for all the world like the slowest pegasus alive. Rarity gently took the dragon into her arms, feeling the warmth beneath the hard scales.

“Be back in a jiffy.” Applejack braced herself against the hatch, pulled it open with a grunt, and floated up into the hallway.

Pinkie Pie had taken to jumping as hard as she could, so that her tether snapped her back down to the floor. “Isn't it strange that we all float down here?”

“What's strange is how you think.” Dash retorted.

Rarity had been slowly but surely getting a headache just behind her temples. “Aren't you worried even the slightest about Twilight?” She asked before Pinkie could respond to Dash's barb. “Or any of us, for that matter?”

“Of course I'm worried.” Pinkie nibbled on her tether strap in thought. “I guess I just believe in Twilight. I believe that she'll do the right thing.”

Rarity stroked the sleeping whelpling's green spines. “I wish I shared your faith, Pinkie.” She muttered.

At the helm, Cloud blinked blearily and shook her head, making her feathers puff out. “Kelbrri, does it look like the slope is curving up ahead?”

The gryphon beside her squinted. “It's harrrd to tell. Should I divert power to the forrrward engines now?”

“Wait for my mark. The air should thicken the closer we get to the bottom. Hopefully the turbines can generate some lift down here.”

Rarity shivered. The cold had receded somewhat, but the thought of getting any nearer to the darkened landscape made her feel intensely uncomfortable. On second thought she tore her gaze from the bay windows, focusing instead on the cold figure of the Princess, her horn aglow and her face ascowl. The alicorn hadn't twitched a muscle in hours. Rarity shivered again. On third thought she focused on Spike, who was snoring just a little. He twitched, his scaly toes curling and uncurling a few times before settling into a deeper sleep. She smiled.

Kelbrri made a clicking noise with her beak. “Hurrrr. . . Yes, I think I see it. The currrve is becoming morrre prrronounced.”

The steel gryphon beside her adjusted her grip on the flight sticks. “Engage forward engines. Let's slow this bird down. Maybe find out just how bad an idea this. . . What in the Forgefire is that?”

Rarity glanced up to see a second layer of darkness overtake them from behind, sweeping forward to consume the landscape below. She gasped. “The sun! It's setting!” At the same time a rumble began beneath her hooves, and she slid towards the windows as the airship began to slow.

“Bad timing, Princess. . .” Cloud muttered.

“We did nothing.” Luna countered. “The world has hours yet to spin.”

“Then UN-set the sun!” Cloud shouted angrily. “We can't see in this mess anymore!”

“'Tis not so simple!” But the glow around Luna's horn intensified, shining outward upon the path ahead.

Strewn boulders loomed. “Look out!” Dash shouted just as Cloud yanked hard on her levers, but not in time. A juddering impact twisted the Vigil off course, accompanied by the crunch of wood and the squeal of metal. Some of the humming stopped as the airship skirted sideways, dragging Rarity to the end of her tether. She clutched Spike even harder to her chest. The eerie quiet of wind seemed to echo with screams.

Spike blinked awake. “Mmm. . . Wha?”

“Hold on to someth-” Cloud's shout was cut short by another impact, this one near the back end of the Vigil, spinning it violently. Bodies ragdolled across the floor as the entire world blurred. Luna's horn became a blinding cynosure, slicing through the dark. Outside, debris flung itself skyward as, enveloped in Luna's shields, the Vigil collided with the ground once, twice, followed by a horrific scraping noise as it rumbled to a stop.

The ship had barely settled into a slight nose-first slant before Sun Shade was on her hooves. “The Crew!” She coughed as dust plumed. “If anypony was belowdecks. . .”

“On it!” Rainbow Dash uncoupled herself and blurred out of sight.

“Is everypony okay?” Pinkie Pie asked from where she lay on her back. “Anypony hurt?”

“I think we're fine.” Sun Shade answered, leaping over to where Cloud and kelbrri had been tossed. She helped them to their feet. “We're fine, right?”

Luna's magic dispelled the gloom, revealing blinking eyes and dust-covered manes. “We appear whole.”

“Then I'll go with Rainbow, in case anypony was hurt.” Fluttershy stopped next to the Princess. “If you can hold the windows.”

Luna nodded. “We will suffice. Go.” But the pegasus was already leaving.

Pinkie struggled to disengage her harness through a heavy sigh. “At least we know the drill. Everypony away from the windows, stick together, watch out for mushy crawly things, blah blah blah.”

Rarity stammered, gasping at the empty space between her hooves. “Sp-” Her gasp drew in a rough breath full of dust. Hacking coughs interrupted her. Throat raw and eyes streaming, she grated, “Spike! Spike?! Spike you answer me this instant!”

The silence filled with a seeping dread. This couldn't be happening.

The dark corridors didn't slow Fluttershy down. Her hoofsteps were confident as she cantered through the gloom and the few glints of light that managed to filter through the portholes. She took the stairs with her wings cupped and landed in a skid, wondering which direction Dash might have gone. Two corridors met in a T near the kitchen, and the transverse hall was dark and cold as a tomb. “Hello?” She called out.

She paused to listen while the Vigil creaked and complained. Something clattered to the floor nearby. And. . . muffled voices drifted somewhere in the distance, followed by a loud crash. Without hesitation Fluttershy launched herself down the darkest corridor in pursuit of the noise. She slid around a bend, and dim lantern light revealed four figures clustered in front of a door. The wall had buckled, squeezing the corridor into a narrow space. A small part of the floor had torn out, separating her from the unfolding scene. In the dim light the blood looked black, like syrup. A dark gryphon with glossy feathers whose name she'd forgotten held Dash by her forelegs. “Keep pressure on the wound!”

“Like this?”

“Push harder!”

“Okay.” She'd never heard Dash's voice quaver like that before.

Beneath Dash's cyan hooves Applejack's coat appeared dull and lifeless, matted with fresh blood. It was tough to tell if she was breathing. Another pegasus, someone from the crew who had been hovering in the doorway, turned and vanished back into the storeroom before Fluttershy could make out who it was.

Fluttershy leaped across the shredded floor, glimpsing the inky shadows of the curse through the gaps below. The subtle tug on her mind she shrugged off easily; her friend's injuries devoured all other details. She stumbled as she landed, but even righting herself she could see the deep gash up Applejack's shoulder, and a shallower one on her head. They were both obscured as Rainbow Dash tried desperately to stop the bleeding with just her hooves. But the farm mare was still breathing.

Dash exhaled harshly when she lifted her head and met Fluttershy's gaze. She blew her bangs out of her face. “Hey Flutters. Is, uh, is she going to make it?”

Fluttershy nodded. But as she glimpsed the bright red cutie mark where she would lay her hooves, she also glanced up. The lantern light spilled into the storeroom, revealing a spar of rock like an obelisk that had gutted the Vigil, tearing through the underside of the airship and revealing its innards to the poisoned landscape. What had once been boxes and crates and massive freezers filled with food was now in shambles. The stone itself writhed with shadows, but that was not what had caught Fluttershy's attention. Clear Sky stood with his back to them, poised upon the edge of the remains of the floor, staring as though entranced by what he saw. The shadows must have been calling to him.

Clear Sky stood poised like a diver, the remnants of the floor bowing a bit beneath his weight. Fluttershy must have gasped, because Dash's head whipped around. “Hey!” She shouted, her wings spread.

Sky didn't respond. He just spread his forelimbs and toppled forward as Dash grappled onto him, spun and launched him with all four limbs. Sky shot through the doorway and into the hall, hitting the wall and sliding into a slouch. Dash's front hooves had left bloody prints on his ribs.

The gryphon's voice was like a lash. “Sky! Have you lost your damn mind?”

“What were you thinking?” Dash added, even though she was looking down too, searching for whatever had caught Clear Sky's eye. With a shake of her head, Dash landed on the busted section of floor. “There's nothing dow-” With a loud, dry series of cracks the floor crumbled beneath Dash's hooves.

“Rainbow!” Fluttershy cried.

Dash hadn't fallen anywhere. The pegasus managed a wan smile. “Don't worry about this pony.” She hovered back over towards the doorway. “Just save Applejack.” On the word 'jack,' a tall freezer toppled ponderously, soundlessly forward, pinning Rainbow to the floor with a resounding crash.

“GAAAAHH!” Dash struggled to bite back screams, her ruby eyes wide.

Fluttershy flung herself at the steel box, bracing herself underneath a corner and shoving upwards with all four hooves, but the thing refused to budge. She doubled her efforts, squeezing moisture out of her eyes with the strain. She felt the weight move the tiniest fraction, and for a moment she felt strong, capable.

“Sky! Help us! In Krearrk's name, pull her out!” The gryphon had joined her, his voice right in her ear. Of course. Fluttershy should have known she'd never be strong enough to save anyone by herself.

Fluttershy felt the giant freezer, its cold edge digging sharply into her shoulder, shift a tiny bit more. Through a watery haze she watched Clear Sky pick himself up off the floor. The slack in his cheeks and forehead tightened as his eyes focused, and suddenly he was there, present in a way he hadn't been since Reeds had died in his arms. His expression fractured into grief; in returning to himself he'd brought the pain back too. But he did not hesitate to dive forward, grasping Dash by her outstretched hoof and pulling.

His grip slipped though, his hooves coming away slick with Applejack's blood.

Beside her, the gryphon grunted in obvious pain. “Hurry. . .”

Sky braced himself, grabbed Dash by the elbow this time and pulled backwards.

Dash screamed, her voice cracking at the end. “Stop! Stop stop stop pulling!” She hadn't budged.

Fluttershy backed away, her limbs trembling. The gryphon stopped straining too and he leaned, gasping against the freezer.

“It's my hip.” Dash grated out past her teeth. “The. . . the stupid handle's got my hip.”

Sky cringed back on his haunches, his eyes wild. He kept repeating the same thing over and over under his breath. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry. . .”

The gryphon whose name she couldn't remember clacked his beak in frustration before he spoke. “Maybe we could build a lever. We find a long pole, right, and wedge it over a fulcrum. . .”

Dash closed her eyes. “No. G-get AJ outta here.” She panted.

Fluttershy protested. “Dash, we're not-” The floor shifted, cutting her off. A shelving rack collapsed in the back of the room, while a stack of crates toppled next to them, crashing to the floor and sliding, one by one, out of the hole in the bottom of the airship. They drew her eyes to the shadow-infested rock that had torn its way in. To Fluttershy's horror, the shadows were. . . feeling the ship around them. A few had already lit upon the floor and the walls, undulating like leeches. “Sweet Celestia. . .”

“Go!” Dash put as much breath as she could into the shout.

With a sharp nod, Fluttershy made up her mind. She turned and reached her hooves out to touch Applejack's prone form, desperately pushing her senses outward. Even though she'd braced herself for it, even though she'd done it several times over the past few days, it still caught her off-guard. Pain tore through her head and dug itself into her shoulder, a deep anguish that seared her nerves like a road map made of rent flesh. Her heart lurched unevenly as her pulse slowed to a crawl. The pain still took her breath away, but it no longer scared her. She had power here. She could feel the blunt trauma, exposed tissue, blood trying to clot. . . and there, the worst of the bleeding. She gently urged the flesh there to close, to heal over.

Another sharp snap made Fluttershy's eyes fly open. The store room floor had shifted again, and with a slow grinding sound the freezer began sliding backwards, dragging a screaming Dash with it. Fluttershy dove for her and grabbed her friend by the hoof, and she felt herself being dragged along too. Both Sky and the gryphon Skan was his name? Skean? with them bounded over their heads, and they set their shoulders against the far side of the freezer, stopping its slide.

Their voices were all Fluttershy could make out. “Grrr. . .” The gryphon growled under his breath. “This isn't happening. We need help!”

“Um, over there!” Sky's voice was thick with disuse.

“What? There's nothing. . . where are you going?”

The sound of several metal somethings clattering. “Here.”

“You barking nutjob! You almost cut me to ribbons!”

“Like this.”

The thunk of something sharp driving into wood. “Oh. . . cob-job, but it's brilliant. Toss me a couple. . .” More sharp thunks followed.

Their dialogue was lost on Fluttershy, who had fallen into a trance the moment she'd grabbed Dash's arm. She felt a pair of rib fractures as if they were her own. Abrasions, bruising. . . and that handle was dug in deep, just above her hips. That hurt more than anything else. The pain was a mute cry for help, but there was nothing she could do. She couldn't mend or nudge any one of these injuries until they could somehow lift the freezer off of her.

However, Fluttershy wasn't entirely powerless. While she could, she shared Dash's pain and eased some of her discomfort. While they couldn't move her, while maybe they couldn't save her, she could at least keep Dash from going into shock. And she could keep her from being alone.

She was staring right into those eyes, embers in the lantern light. “Go.” Dash was whispering, urging. “Help AJ. Come back for me. I'll make it. I'm. . . I'm not gonna die from some stupid. . . lame fridge. Please. . .”

The voices on the other side sharpened with panic. “Skan, look!”

“It's. . . It's coming inside. Guys! It's coming! The dark stuff is spreading! Tarsi's keel, it's everywhere. . .”

“Just go.” Dash whispered.

Fluttershy's eyes hardened. “Skan. Clear Sky.” Her soft voice somehow cut through the atmosphere, dispelling some of the thick desperation in the air. “Get Applejack out of here. Take her to Pin Feather.”

The gryphon appeared next to her. “The insect? Are you seri-”

“Do it.” Fluttershy asserted. “Now. If Twilight shows up, have her come find us.”

Sky landed on her other side. “Um, are you sure?”

“Yes.” Fluttershy said. “I'm sure. We'll all make it through this alive, but I need you both to trust me. Okay?”

The stallion nodded. “Okay.” He glanced meaningfully at his companion.

Skan scowled. “I don't like it, but. . . I trust you. But you both better make it back up to us. I couldn't live with the guilt, understand?”

Fluttershy spared him a smile, if not a glance. “Fair enough. Now please, go.”

Without another word, the pair vanished. In a few moments, she heard Sky's voice call out, “We'll come back for you!”

Dash's eyes followed their departure. "P-pins will know what to do for her." She shook her head. “You should go too. I don't need you hanging around. . . ugh, cramping my style.” That's what her voice said, but her eyes held gratitude.

“I'm not leaving you alone, Rainbow Dash.” She said, hoping she sounded brave. Something Rarity had said a lifetime ago echoed in her head, from back when she was a different mare altogether. “For the moment you have no choice but to suffer our friendship.”

“Bad decision. . .” Dash muttered. But the corners of her mouth tugged up just a bit. Until another snap and an ominous creak startled them both. “Yeah, we're going with bad decision on this one.”

“What do you mean 'gone?'” Pinkie's shrill voice grated in Rarity's ears. “What does 'gone' mean? Gone gone?”

“What do you think it means?” Rarity all but shouted.

“The crash. . .” Sun Shade gasped. “The windows. Did he. . . fall out?”

Rarity was stricken. She could only tear her eyes off the crawling shadows to gaze at her arms, empty and ineffectual. She was the one. She had insisted on holding him. There was nobody else to blame.

“Oh no.” Pinkie covered her mouth with both hooves, her eyes misting over.

Kelbrri swallowed hard, and raised a tentative claw. “Um, I could trrry flying ourr back trrrail. Maybe I can spot something.”

Cloud reached out and dragged Kelbrri's arm down. “We don't even know what that crazy stuff is out there.” Her hackles raised slowly as she turned towards Princess Luna. “I mean, come on! What is it, exactly? Huh?! What, will it kill us to touch it? Does it feed? How come Twilight Sparkle-” She almost sneered the name, “-can blow through the stuff if its so dangerous?” Cloud slammed a balled-up fist of talons against the edge of the control panel. “Haven't enough of us died already? Just tell us what you know!”

Luna's distant look of concern shifted, a look of old, righteous fury replacing it. She paced fearlessly forward. “Or what, First Helmsgryph Clouded Gaze? Wilt thou strike me? Hmmm? Or gouge thy talons into our flesh? Wilt thy fear and frustration therefore be assuaged?” She bored her eyes into Cloud until the gryphon glanced down, averting her eyes. “Hmph.” Luna turned her back upon them all, and pitched her voice to the corners of the room. “Such is the nature of what we face. This darkness, 'tis the remnants of ancient spite and scorn. 'Tis the touch of a being far greater than we, and an ill unrelenting as the tide. You see. . .” Her voice grew heavy. “Even the Gods, given time, grow weary of their creations.”

“That's awful. . . really, truly awful for them.” Pinkie's ears drooped. “But. . . but what does that mean for Spike?” She implored.

Luna sighed. “This is what we believe. The weak of spirit will be consumed by the Darkness, their bodies twisted and eaten. The strong. . . The strong will find the same thing happening, except to their souls, where such damage might be all the more hideous.”

Pinkie sat back on her haunches and wrapped her arms about herself, as though she was in danger of falling apart. Rarity fell to her knees before Luna, imploring. “Please. . . Please. You have to find him. You have to bring him back.”

Luna's eyes closed very, very slowly. “We. . . I cannot.”

“Why?” Rarity's desperation filled the room. “You've done it before, haven't you? When we first met you, You were. . . Like them! Weren't you? A creature of nightmares and darkness!”

Luna sighed from the tips of her hooves, and her head drooped to the floor. “I cannot.”

“To Tartarus with your cannot!” Rarity was screaming now, not even trying to hold back. “Why? Twilight can! Right!? Yes?! Why can't you? Is she so much better than you are?”

“Yes.” Luna's quiet reply took Rarity by surprise. “Yes, she is. Her spirit. . . it hasn't been broken. Not yet.”

Rarity deflated, finding her tirade suddenly offensive. Very softly, very gently, as though she had just looked down and noticed she trod upon hallowed ground, Rarity spoke. “And you have?”

“I have.” Luna echoed. Her eyes shimmered in the dim light. “We-I know what acts I would commit with such power. I am. . . aware of who and what I would become. I am broken, and I cannot be trusted with such tools of destruction. Never again.”

Pinkie gasped. “I think I get it. It's not just an old way of talking like those ponys in plays. When you say 'we' instead of 'I,' you really mean more than one of you, don't you Princess?”

Luna nodded, but didn't answer directly. “In this, our sister had more wisdom than we. We learned she was wrong, and we assumed we must therefore be right. We were blind to the folly of complete certainty and self-justification. My darker self yet thirsts, and I dare not grant her the opportunity.”

It seemed to take a few moments for Rarity to grasp everything Luna said, everything she meant. She controlled her heaving breaths as best she could, willing herself not to panic, and certainly not to cry. “Okay.” She nodded, to the room if to nobody in particular. “Okay. I'll go.”

“What?” Pinkie yelped.

Sun Shade placed a hoof on Rarity's shoulder. “My dear, are you certain?”

“Spike is alone in this mess, and its all my fault.” Rarity sniffed, and rubbed at her eyes. “I must do this.”

“Do not!” Luna stood wide-eyed, her back turned upon the bay windows. “This Darkness will not bend so easily as one might think.”

Rarity stood her ground. “Then find a better plan! Or, with all due respect, Your Highness, get out of my way!”

An acrid scent of ammonia wafted in as a pair of pale forms reared out of the gloom and struggled their way onto the bridge. Luna could not have seen them dragging their way closer and closer to her tail as she spoke. “Elegant Rarity. . . thou hast not reconciled thy personal failures. Thy failure to emerge as a mare of esteem is in small part due to thy attachments in humble Ponyville. Thy love for thy friends is underscored with a secret resentment, and the Darkness would break thee. We can almost see the devastation a Nightmare Rarity would be capable of. We implore thee. . .” Luna's horn lit up the room with a deep azure glow, and the squishy shapes were flung hard back out the windows. “Choose not this path. 'Twill lead only to greater woe.”

Rarity's eyes narrowed. “You can't know that! Just because you can't handle it doesn't mean none of us can!” Rarity tossed her mane out of her face, reared in what she thought might have been a dramatic fashion, and charged. Luna, being taller, widened her stance and lit her horn aglow.

Just before they collided, a shrill and alien whistle began, a sound that slid up into piercing, mind-numbing frequencies before sliding into a long, low groan that shook the walls and rattled the floors. The unicorn and the alicorn found themselves side by side staring out into the cloud-covered darkness beyond the windows.

Cloud peeked gingerly over the edge of the control panel. “What in the fires of creation is that?!”

As dim heat lightning flashed in the clouds, it illuminated a long, undulating shape eeling through the air towards the wreck of the Vigil. It was unreal in the way it defied gravity, defied its own impossible mass. It was closing the distance with deceptive swiftness, strange whiskers trailing alongside a gaping, oval maw. It was humungous, dwarfing the Vigil by a matter of scale. Rarity was forcibly reminded of the leviathan they'd encountered out at sea. With a shudder she realized what must have found them.

She had no trouble imagining this creature eating the world.

It was here.

30: Nightmares

“Should this vessel still be capable of flight,” Luna breathed, “We suggest fleeing.”

Kelbrri shook herself, and her eyes came back into focus. She flicked a few switches and shoved hard on a nearby lever. Her crest collapsed as she shook her head no.

“It better not be the damned fuel lines. . .” Cloud stepped gingerly towards Luna, as though her ship might shake apart through the slow, powerful groan the sky-serpent made as it approached. She implored the Princess with eyes the color of steel. “I gotta know. . . Is it worth trying? Do. . . Honestly, do we even have a chance here?”

Luna's expression turned gentle, and she pitched her voice over the hum. “What chance remains to us now, we cannot see.” She placed a hoof on her shoulder. Then she turned and walked with stately dignity to the edge of the shattered windows like framed pictures of tormented memories. The colossus eeled steadily towards the grounded airship, its unending moan grating like panic across everyone's mind. Luna turned her back upon the nightmarish vista, her eyes and horn shedding light like a benediction. “But for us, we shall fight until we have breathed our last!”

Cloud nodded. “Good enough for this gryphon. Kelbrri, you're helm in case we get the old bird running. Shade, you're with me.” She turned and flung herself at the door.

Sun Shade offered Rarity a sympathetic hug. “My dearest gem, I'm so so sorry.” With a grimace, she followed Cloud at a trot.

Luna watched them go, then turned to Rarity. “Thou must now protect the bridge. This is paramount. Should it fall, we may be unable to flee even if Clouded Gaze is successful. Dost thou understand us?”

Rarity fought to swallow heaving sobs as fat tears bled from her eyes. “I-I understand, your H-.” And she found herself completely unable to speak.

Luna turned, the dark sky of her mane backlit by the glow of her power, and her wings spread majestically. With a snarl, she launched herself into the air towards the living catastrophe, and the ship juddered with the force of her departure.

Pinkie Pie slunk towards Rarity, concern suffusing her wide eyes. She leaned broadside against her friend, hoping to still her tremors with touch. “I. . . I'm sure we'll find him, Rarity. A-and maybe the Elements can, um, fix him up. Right?”

Another soft form had pulled itself over the sill, something small and leonine. Rarity shoved Pinkie brusquely away and lifted the intruder up with her magic. She spun it upside down and savagely slammed it against the floor several times, making loud, wet scrunching sounds interspersed with faint mewls. Rarity steadfastly ignored her crewmate's cringing and flung the form back into the shadows from whence it came.

Pinkie looked frightened, and not of the creatures. She spoke slowly. “Rarity? Are you alright?”

Rarity didn't give an answer. She didn't have one to give.

Dash's eyes darted around the room. Trying to sound nonchalant, she said, “Stuff's spreading kind of fast, isn't it?”

“Just keep looking at me.” Fluttershy urged.

Dash nodded. “Okay.” She may have blinked a little too much, and was certainly breathing a little too fast. She blew her colorful bangs out of her eyes. “D'you think it'll hurt?”

Fluttershy readjusted her grip on Rainbow's arms, keeping as much of her front limbs against her friend as she could manage. “Yes.”

“Oh. Great.” Dash grimaced. “You couldn't have lied about that? Not even a little?”

The shadows writhed closer, feeling the floor before them. Each one was insubstantial, like an opaque mirage distorting rather than concealing whatever was behind it. But there was also something invasive about them, something that made Fluttershy feel desperate to cover herself. “At the shore, this stuff couldn't harm me. It hurt, but it couldn't get in. I'll try and help you, okay?”

“But that makes no sense to me. What does it feel like?”

“Um, kind of like your life. As though your life has gone wrong, somehow.”

“You know what? Never mind. I'll find out here in a second.”

“Rainbow! Whatever you do, remember to trus-”

Dash drew in a panicky gasp and her pupils shrank to nothing.

“Wait!” Fluttershy cried out. But she didn't even hear herself. The world had been swept away, replaced with ice and desolation. The shadows had closed in, and Fluttershy found herself locked in a silent battle for Dash's soul.

The corridor was silent for half a dozen heartbeats before a dim glow appeared, followed by a lantern, followed by a pair of figures.

Sun Shade scanned the hallway with clear brown eyes before setting her lamp down. “Well.” She remarked drily. “This is a bona fide clusterbuck.”

Beside her, Cloud arched an eyebrow.

“What?” Shade asked. “A true lady knows when it's appropriate to swear.”

“Yeah. . .” Cloud agreed. Standing in the transverse corridor on the lowest deck, their lamp light fell upon nothing but a writhing nest of shadows spreading from an open storeroom door. “So much for repairs. We're taking on evil like it's seawater.” Her hackles spiked. “Let's make sure nobody else is down here.”

Shade nodded sagely. “You start on this end. I'll go get the prisoner.”

Cloud glanced at the encroaching shadows with a revolted shudder. “We've only got a few minutes.”

“Then hurry.” Shade adjusted her parasol, grabbed her lantern in her mouth and launched herself into a gallop. Behind her, she heard Cloud fling open the first door, shouting for survivors. Her voice dwindled behind Shade as she rounded another corner. Near the end, a sliver of light shone through a hatchway which had been left ajar. And it was the very door she needed, of course. Perhaps somepony else had thought to evacuate the lower deck. She thought. Perhaps this one thing might go smoothly. She rolled her eyes at the thought. The way nothing else has this trip. Certainly.

When she flung the hatch open, she nearly stumbled over herself in shock. Clear Sky sat on the floor, and the pegasus cradled an unconscious Applejack, the gem hanging from her neck inert and lifeless. He stroked a muddy-brown hoof along her face with such care that Shade was struck with deja vu. It was only a few days ago Sky had a different mare die in his arms.

They weren't alone. Skan was there too, and he towered over a prone Pin Feather, still looking like his feathered self. And Skan had been shouting. “. . . get this through your damned insect brain!” A claw shot out. “She is one of the Elements! If she dies we all die!”

Pin Feather may have been on the floor, but his voice was strong. “Then let me go.”

“You think you're going to bargain?” The gryphon snarled. “Traitor. You're lucky we haven’t thrown you overboard and left you to rot.” He glanced up to see who had come in. “Miss Shade, thank the forge fires. Maybe you can convince this louse,” For emphasis he kicked the black medical bag lying nearby. “To save an injured pony's life.”

Sun Shade arched an eyebrow. “Oh, I think I can be very, very persuasive.” She strode towards the prisoner. “Nopony on this ship defies orders, Pins.” She reared onto her hind legs, unslung her parasol, and in the same smooth motion spun the umbrella around her neck for momentum and slammed the weighted tip across the back of Skan's head, staggering him.

“Augh!” Skan clutched the back of his skull, black eartufts pinned. He sucked in a breath through his beak. “What was that for?”

“For being dense.” Shade had already twisted a subtle dial and depressed a decorative flower in the handle, setting the tip of her parasol alight with a tiny blue flame. With care, she set it against one of the links of chain holding the prisoner down. “This ship needs its medic, and you're here quibbling about species.”

“But. . . but he attacked Kelbrri and Cloud! He-he broke your wrist! What-?”

A pile of chains clattered noisily to the floor. Shade stared somberly into Pin Feather's blue eyes. The eyes she was used to seeing. “Will you help her? Remember, that's an order, First Medic.”

A small, crooked grin appeared. “Duh. Who do you think I am?” He slung his bag into a skid and followed it, snapping it open with his beak. In a moment he'd produced antiseptic and gauze. “Hey Sky. I need you to hold her just. . . there. Thanks. Ugh, there's dirt in here, but we don't have time to clean it.” The smell of alcohol stung Shade's nose while bandages flew. “She needs fluids, like, yesterday. We've got to get her to the infirmary. Now-ish. I can hook her up to an IV for starters. Where's Flutters?”

“Solid inquiry.” Shade turned to Skan, still rubbing the back of his head and glaring. “Did Fluttershy or Rainbow Dash come down this way?”

Skan suddenly looked worried. Worried and guilty. “They, uh, they were stuck in food storage C a minute or two ago.”

“And you left them there?!” Sun Shade didn't notice she'd brandished her parasol menacingly until Skan cringed a little.

“Hey! We didn't have much choice!” The gryphon squared his shoulders to meet her ire. “You weren't there, okay! If we hadn't hightailed it outta there, we'd all be toast!”

“She promised she would save Rainbow Dash, save us all.” Clear Sky's voice rang like a quiet bell. “Fluttershy. She promised we could all survive. But she made us bring Applejack here. We had to, you see?” His wings hung lifelessly at his sides. “She promised.”

Sun Shade grimaced. “Well, we can't stay here in any case. Th-”

The ship began to vibrate all around them, a massive thrum that rattled Shade's chest and made her hooves itch. And it didn't stop. “Always interruptions. As though I wasn't in the midst of speaking.” Sun Shade muttered darkly.

Pin Feather continued to make bandages fly as he glanced around. “Holy bowls of tartar sauce what is that?”

Despite herself, and despite the situation, Shade felt compelled to ask. “Tartar sauce?”

“This is more than a pickle we're in, isn't it? Don't ask questions, let's just go. Sky, help me carry AJ outta here.”

Princess Luna was appalled to her core. The creature before her filled her vision, the inside of it's maw nothing but a gently ribbed cavern into blackness. Trailing tendrils spaced equally around the outside of the opening were as massive as towers, yet they were thin, wispy things compared to the bulk of the beast. There were no eyes she could see. No head, for that matter. Unless the perfectly circular cluster of ivory-white spines on either side functioned something like eyes. In any case, nothing that presented an obvious target. It simply flew mindlessly forward as though it meant to devour them all. Or crush them to dust beneath its vast bulk.

Luna briefly scanned her long memory, wondering whether or not she'd ever seen anything quite so appalling in her life. There was a great deal to sift through. She and her sister had fought countless battles, faced many strange and dangerous things. She herself had stood at the gates of Tartarus and, under a geas of necessity, walked through. She had bargained with Darkness just like this for the power to stand up to her sister, stop the world's spin, and cleanse this tainted land beneath the glare of an un-setting sun. That was her true purpose in shrouding Equestria in eternal night, after all.

But she'd never seen anything like this before. Even in nightmares.

Luna gathered her energy, her magic, and focused it all into a single point. The glow surrounding her horn condensed into a fine spark of light which she launched through the air. The attack whistled as it arced, small pops as it ignited the air drowned out by the encroaching rumble. It exploded against the top of the great worm's maw in a concussion of fire, but the thing kept coming. Trailing smoke, its flesh rippling a little, it was undeterred.

Luna slowed to a hover, her snarl of determination fading into uncertainty as she fired again and again and again, attempting to make every attack more destructive than the last. She aimed each concussion at the same area, heaping damage upon injury, and all she accomplished was clewing away some of the flesh near the base of a whisker. It drew close enough to engulf her, its bulk eclipsing the world, and in desperation Luna teleported herself above the beast. She pushed her spell, eager to get completely clear of the monster, but she still appeared next to one of the trailing tentacles which lashed towards her with a negligent flick, and Luna's shield barely appeared in time.

The whisker, up close, was a wall of flesh wider than a street. The pale grey was, surprisingly, underscored with hints of vibrant luminescence in sporadic rainbow streaks. Then the whisker smashed into her shield, and Luna was flung like a cannonball. Spinning, she spread her wings and flipped gracefully through the air to reverse her momentum. The worm sailed heedlessly past her, aimed more or less where the Vigil had landed. She was running out of time, and the majority of her spells were rendered useless by the sheer bulk of the thing.

So she tried something she hadn't practiced in centuries. She readied two spells at once. Light shimmered around her entire form as she lowered her head and pushed, shoving with all her might. The serpent's skin shuddered from the blow one split second before a torrent of wind collided with it, veering the creature off-course.

Luna noticed two things almost instantly. First, it was the curse itself, the pervasive patina of evil below that buoyed the monster, kept it afloat. And secondly, the colossus had simply curved back on course, scarcely deterred by her efforts. A cold, hard rock settled into her stomach as she flung herself forward. There had to be more that she could do, there just wasn't enough power here without giving in to the Darkness herself. If only she had time to raise the moon, or to somehow remove the force supporting it. . .

Suddenly, the worm's colossal head angled earthward. Glancing down, Luna watched as the shadows parted in a broad swath, revealing naked stone and rock. The unsettling groan paused for a long, breathless moment before the creature smashed head-first into the ground, a rippling shockwave rolling up the squishy length of the worm, and outwards through the bare ground and beyond.

The thick -CRACK- followed by rolling, resonating thunder was a stunning force. Luna reeled as though she herself had been struck, but it failed to throw off the aim of her spell. She'd already vanished in a flash of light, reappearing between the bulk of the worm and the grounded airship. Aether's Vigil had begun to move as rock slides began all around the crater, waves of debris knocked loose by the impact. Yet at the same time the rest of the colossus continued to fall, its head tucking back underneath it and its immense body rolling towards both her and the airship. To the left and the right, a wall of pale flesh blocked out the sky. Below, the ground disappeared at an alarming rate, and the airship slid inexorably forward.

Luna drew in as much power as she could muster, until her body trembled and her vision blurred, and she struck. She was vaguely aware of another figure beside her, mirroring her gesture. Before her heart beat again the avalanche of worm flesh was blotted from sight by a savage cone of magic, cobalt blue and oil-black. Luna's ears rang and popped, and her hooves singed, but the remainder of the titanic beast began to fall in a different direction, curling away from the airship to collapse in an ineffectual roar of sound. The tail of the worm settled to Luna's left, covering the world in that direction. The smell of burnt, sick meat was overwhelming.

Panting, Luna glanced to her right and recoiled in shock. It was like looking into a mirror, one that turned back time to the darkest point in the Princess's life. It was too familiar: the sleek coat that wasn't so much black as much as it simply denied that color or light might exist. The slitted pupils framed by a dark mane that flowed on ethereal breezes. Luna felt a moment of panic. Had she snapped? Had she tapped into the darkness below without making that choice consciously? Here, history had repeated itself, and Luna swam through a mix of dismay and sickening deja vu and, somewhere deep in her secret heart, giddy exultation.

Until the apparition spoke. “I can't leave you ponies alone for two seconds, can I?”

Only then did details stand out to Luna's eyes. The soft violet glow suffusing the mane and tail. The purple shade of the irises. And, of course, the complete lack of wings. Luna's fractured mind had not yet betrayed her. Her heartfelt sigh was full of relief, for herself and for the soul of the unicorn hovering before her. After all, she'd come back for them.

Even though Luna's ears rang in the silence, she heard a soft hum underscoring Twilight's voice as she spoke. “You should have let me go. You put everypony's lives at risk, and you're just going to get in my way. You shouldn't have come.”

Luna merely sighed and glanced down. All around the crater the rock slides continued, but the airship had stopped, along with most of the debris in a wide swath below them. Luna didn't retort with what she wanted to say, choosing instead what she thought Twilight needed to hear. “Thank you, Twilight Sparkle.” She'd meant it, too. But she didn't answer the accusations. Instead, she tucked her wings and dove out of the sky, back-winging gently through the Vigil's broken windows.

The few bodies on the bridge, at a glance, appeared merely shaken. Kelbrri looked as though she might faint. Rarity stood panting with all four of her hooves splayed in the center of the room, as though their uncontrolled slide might resume at any moment. Pinkie Pie couldn't seem to tear her eyes off of the collapsed sky-serpent filling the view through the windows.

Twilight swept in just behind Luna, riding currents of dark magic, and landed close to her side. She seemed to radiate cold rather than warmth. Rarity gasped, her attention wavering from the floor. “Twilight?” There was more than a little indignation in the word.

The airship shuddered as the rocks resumed their slide. Hooves flailed and wings spread for balance. Rarity muttered a couple of words under her breath, and everything stopped sliding again with a jolt.

Luna's eyes widened, and she spun towards the Nightmare version of Twilight. “We thought Aether's Vigil had been saved by thee.”

Twilight smirked. “Well yeah, it was. But I didn't stop the avalanche.” Twilight's slitted eyes held curiosity as they turned to the pale white unicorn, but beneath her curiosity lurked avarice. “How are you doing that?” She asked. Apparently she saw a power she didn't have, or didn't understand.

Rarity trembled, but her focus didn’t slip as she spoke. “How dare you, Twilight?” Her voice shook almost as much as her legs did.

“You shouldn't have come after me.” Twilight said again.

“Have you any idea how much worry you caused us?” Rarity hurled the words like stones. “You should be utterly ashamed! Why would you leave without telling any of us what suicidal plan you were dreaming up?”

Twilight scowled. “We had all agreed bringing the ship down here would be a horrible idea!” She shouted back. “And nopony would have agreed to let me go by myself even if I did ask!”

“Without so much as a 'by your leave!' And that's not even the worst-”

“Because of you,” Twilight seemed eager to lay the entire blame for the decision at Rarity's hooves. “I've completely lost whatever surprise factor I might have had, and I get to worry about protecting you all from your own stupidity!”

“Is this what Celestia taught you?” Rarity was screaming now, hitting her stride in a full-blown tirade. “To abandon your friends when things become dangerous? Is this” Here she gestured at Twilight's coat and mane. “What she would have wanted for you?!? Is it?” The scree beneath the airship shifted a little.

“Celestia's dead!” Twilight shouted back. “She couldn't protect us! She couldn't even protect herself!” She brought her nose to within an inch of Rarity's. “You don't know anything at all!!! You don't know what power is! You've never stepped out of your pampered little shell long enough to see how dark the world has truly become!” Twilight scoffed. “What have you sacrificed on this trip, hmmm? What has coddled little Rarity honestly lost?”

Pain shone through Rarity's hurt expression. “A friend.” She pushed the words past her teeth.

Into the moment of stunned silence, Pinkie raised a tentative hoof. “Um, so. . . I take it that big thingy-thing out there isn't the thingy we're looking for?”

“Yami?” Luna shook her head. “No.”

“Oh.” Pinkie responded sadly. “How do you know?”

“We're alive.” Luna said.

A voice drifted onto the bridge. A voice that echoed as if from miles away, a voice that was scarcely a ghost of a whisper, “Twilight?”

It was unmistakably Spike.

Twilight spun to face the bay windows, mouth agape. She held one hoof unconsciously off the floor, and her ears pricked, hoping to catch another faint echo. “No.” She whispered to herself.

Pinkie's face lit with hope, and she said. “Oh hey, he's alive!”

Twilight's eyes trailed green and black rivulets of power as she spun to accuse the whole of the bridge. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?!” She thundered. Her voice actually bowled Pinkie completely over, and her hooves left dents in the metal floor as she launched herself back out the windows. As the ringing from her scream subsided, it was replaced by a low grinding noise, a tectonic grumble that thrummed up through the ground.

“Feh. When the rain poureth. . .” Luna shook her head. “The great worm stirs. We will attempt once more to subdue it. Preserve the ship!” And she vanished too.

“Rarity?” Pinkie asked from the floor. “Can you maybe ask the rocks to slide us backwards a ways?”

“What?” Rarity asked, incredulous. “But that's impossible!”

“Then ask them politely!” Pinkie's hooves fiddled worriedly with her curly mane. “Oh, I hope everypony else is okay.”

The shadows crept and pried. They oozed and seeped and whispered. They surrounded her on all sides. But they couldn't get in. They couldn't get in. She just kept telling herself they couldn't get in.

Could they?

The shadows had closed overhead, blotting out the sun with a starless night. There was no moon, either. The meadow spread in every direction, but there was scarcely any light left to navigate by. Even the gentle breeze had stopped, freezing the blades of grass in place as though they were no longer sure they belonged there. Something hung in the air, a threat of some kind. Fluttershy felt a vague panic, as though there was something important she was supposed to be doing, but she couldn't quite put her hoof on what it was.

She couldn't remember which direction she'd come from. She couldn't even remember why she'd wandered so far from home in the first place. She held her breath for a moment, hoping to still her racing heart long enough to remember which way was home. But then she heard voices in the distance, or maybe just one voice, and she suddenly remembered. She hadn't come out here alone. Of course not. She wasn't that reckless. That's not the way her mother had raised her.

Then why couldn't she remember who that voice belonged to? It was so familiar. . . She should have felt more afraid, and instead she felt comforted by the voice as she stretched into a daring gallop. Whoever it was, she didn't sound like a threat. Fluttershy felt a little more of her anxiety slip away.

She came upon a young blue pegasus with a spiked mane talking animatedly with another pegasus, the two of them enjoying a story the blue one was telling. Then they both laughed, rolling around in the grass. Fluttershy suddenly felt a little bit like an intruder, and she held back a little, waiting politely to be noticed.

The blue pegasus wiped a tear from her eye as her laughter subsided, and she caught sight of the filly standing awkwardly off to the side. “Oh hey. . . you. Good to see you. Where have you been?”

“Um, I'm not sure. I guess I lost track of time.” Fluttershy looked around the dark meadow, but she couldn't see very far. “But I'd like to go home now. Do you know which way my cabin is?”

The pegasus laughed again, leaning in towards her friend. “See? I told you she was alright.” Her wide, crimson eyes regarded Fluttershy with a friendly gaze. “And you, you aren't ducking out of this flying session. You need the practice, Sunshine.” With that she pointed towards the nearby cloud bank, where all the first and second year students had gathered under the watchful eye of Cloudsdale's junior flight instructors.

Fluttershy's back hoof slipped over the edge of the cloud and she threw herself forward in a real panic to get away from the fall, gasping and sweating. The ground was so far away!

Of course I don't live in a cabin, I'm not old enough to live on my own yet. Where would I get such a strange idea?

Cloudsdale shone beneath the bright sun; pristine fluffy clouds stretching into the distance, glittering rainbows arcing distantly overhead, but Fluttershy wasn't convinced. She didn't trust the clouds, not really. She never had. She was certain that one day she'd fall right through them, and her wings wouldn't save her in time to spare her from the cold hard ground below. The solid earth haunted her dreams at night, and nowadays she didn't scream so much when those dreams woke her. She'd learned how to stifle herself so she wouldn't upset her mother.

The blue pegasus was already walking with her friend towards the gathering of other foals. Fluttershy was terrified of heights, and the thought of flying lessons made her trembling intensify. But the thought of losing the one familiar face in this crowd was even worse, so she scrambled to catch up.

“So, um. . .” Fluttershy felt so embarrassed. She should have known this rainbow-maned pony's name. How in Equestria did it slip her mind? Hadn't they known each other for a long time? She had the vague feeling they had. “Who's your friend?”

The pony walking beside the cerulean pegasus smiled. Was her mane. . . brown? Or maybe gold? It was hard to tell. But she smiled a pretty smile and nodded. “Hey, I've heard so much about you. I'm-” As the pegasus newcomer offered Fluttershy a hoof she also opened her mouth to introduce herself, but all Fluttershy heard was a low, jarring tone. “________.” Fluttershy, who had been reaching politely for the proffered hoof, twitched away violently as though terrified to touch this stranger.

But she had heard a name, hadn't she? A perfectly normal one too, she just couldn't remember it for some reason. And her reluctance to shake a hoof made her seem terribly rude. A furious blush rose to her cheeks, and she cowered beneath the weight of her shame.

The blue pegasus ignored the exchange, stretching her wings out and cracking her neck. “I can't wait to get up there and show these fillies how it's done.”

The stranger cast a scathing look over Fluttershy, as though not shaking her hoof had offended or disappointed her in some way. But she turned to encourage the blue pegasus. “I just know you'll leave everypony else in the dust.”

Fluttershy knew what she should do. She should keep her foolish mouth shut and stay near the back. That mostly kept anyone from noticing her, and staying out of sight made her feel just a little bit safer. But there was something wrong. Something about the bright sky and the perfect clouds and the gathering of foals that wasn't quite right. And Fluttershy found her voice. “Um,” She tried to place a hoof on the blue pony's shoulder, but her grey-coated (or was it tan?) friend stepped between them, and Fluttershy snatched her hoof back. “I. . . I-I don't think you should fly today.” She said softly.

The brash pegasus had no reason to listen to her. She probably barely heard Fluttershy's voice. But she turned anyway. “I can't back out now.” She said openly, honestly. “This race is my big chance.”

“I'm sorry.” Fluttershy had the impression that she was getting in the way. She squirmed even more, fidgeting with her lanky mane. “I. . . I just have a weird feeling. . .”

“I can't just win, either. I need to really beat these clowns badly if I want to make an impression.” It wasn't a flying exercise, it was a race. The blue pegasus even had a number on her flank. “I can't end up wasting my life away in some backwoods town somewhere. I'm destined for awesome things, you know?”

The stranger beamed. “Of course you are. Your name will one day be spoken in homes all across Equestria, and beyond. You're the fastest flier to ever come out of Cloudsdale, right?”

“And the most acrobatic.” The blue pegasus preened. “Forget spoken. I want my name chanted. Rainb-”

“Oh no!” The stranger shouted, cutting her friend off. “They're starting!”

“Wait!” Fluttershy squeaked. “I'm so, so sorry. I know you're amazing, I feel that's true. But. . . But if you leave me. . . Leave me alone. . .” The stranger turned to face Fluttershy, scowling, but Fluttershy kept her imploring eyes on the crimson ones in front of her. Those were the important ones. And for some strange reason, Fluttershy was important enough to keep those crimson eyes on her. “I don't think I'll be safe, here. Without you.”

Out of the corner of her eye, the stranger's face became long and sad. No. . . no, not just sad, it was actually melting off. A distant scream like an echo of a night-terror rang just behind Fluttershy's ear and she twitched and gasped, shoving her hooves into her mouth to keep herself from screeching in horror and drawing even more stares from the crowd.

But when she glanced at the strange pony she looked completely normal. Pretty, even. The stranger scoffed. “Rainb________.” She said. Fluttershy flinched again, that odd tone piercing straight to the center of her brain. “Is this really a friend of yours? It seems to me that a true friend would actually want you to succeed. A real friend wouldn't want to drag you down and hold you back your whole life.”

The blue pegasus quirked her head in thought. “Hey, yeah.” A note of challenge crept into her voice. “Why are you trying to hold me back, F. . . hmmmm. . . you? I thought you were my friend!” Her voice cracked several times as she glared from beneath prismatic spikes.

You don't remember my name? Flutters__ was crying now. “I'm sorry!” It was true. She was always so weak. “I'm sorry. I just. . . I just felt. . . P-please don't go!”

Somewhere, a starting pistol went off, and the blue filly turned and launched into the air, speeding away. It didn't seem strange to anyone that the blue pegasus was racing alone. As one, all of the other ponies turned slowly to stare at Flutter___, scorn and derision radiating from all sides.

Flutte____ began to hyperventilate. The world began to spin around her. She was wrong, of course she was wrong. Friends don't do that to other friends. She should never have left the house. Her mom had been talking about home schooling, maybe that would have been better. Better for everyone. At least then she wouldn't be stuck in this crowd, singled out for being weak and strange. Flutt_____ was crying heavily now, big, embarrassing, uncontrolled sobs right there in front of everyone. Even the instructors looked on with disapproval. And nobody offered any help.

The stranger smiled.

She'd left her senses open to her friend, to try and keep her friend safe. But she'd left herself open to the shadows, too. Somewhere in the Darkness, a nameless yellow pegasus whimpered.

Twilight sped through the Darkness. “Spike?” She'd opened her senses, but she couldn't really tell where he was. “Spike!” She'd heard him, she knew she heard him. “Spike, where are you?!” This was no place for an innocent little dragon. She had to get him out of here. The world rumbled, the world trembled, but all Twilight could think about was how her friends had left Spike to die, had let him fall from the airship like he meant nothing to them. And she held onto that feeling to keep herself from finding the connection that traced the blame back to her. “SPIIIIIKE!!!”

There. A darker shadow amidst the shadows. A lump of scales curled away from her. And a tiny muffled sob. “Spike?” Twilight approached.

The little dragon turned slowly, green eyes absolutely awash with tears. “Twilight?” His scales were a shiny black, but his features bespoke the same gentle soul Twilight had always known. “Is that you?”

It smote Twilight's heart to see him this way. Even the brutal joy and adrenaline rush of her power seemed to pale, washed away by a genuine pain. Her throat closed completely, and she reached a hoof out.

Spike scrambled backwards as though from a lit torch, and his face crumpled with rage. “Get away from me.” He seethed. “Don't pretend you love me. You never did.”

Twilight gasped, freeing her voice. “Spike. . . I-”

“YOU LEFT ME ALOOOOO-” The whelpling's mouth opened wide, and from it poured a tidal wave of power that smashed Twilight's defenses and drowned out her world.

31: "Damn Us All"

Filly Rainbow Dash's wings blurred, propelling her forward into the crisp wind and sunshine. With a subtle tilt she banked hard, angling through a ring composed of fluffy clouds. Dash shot through the exact center, leaving an explosion of rainbow colors in her wake. Through the turn, she fought the pull of inertia as though the pressure was an embrace she longed for. Clusters of ponies cheered faintly below, and Dash grinned in response, a feral elation forcing her wings to beat faster and faster. This is what she lived for, after all; the thrill of a race, the rush of exertion, and the adoration of a crowd.

She braked hard and burst across the finish line to an explosion of confetti and streamers. A flock of pegasi greeted her, cheers and congratulations mixing streaks of color with raucous sound. Dash controlled her panting breaths, not wanting to seem too winded, and she kept her tiny wings folded against their trembling. It wouldn't do to look weak after a victory like this one. Finally, everyone had seen her Sonic Rainboom. Finally, everyone believed her.

A voice right by her ear stood out against the crowd. “You are so amazing,” Dash recognized the pegasus she'd met earlier, the one who must have signed her up for this event. “Once the Wonderbolts get a look at you they'll be on their knees asking you to join them.”

“I know, right?” Dash's elation began to ebb, her gaze settling upon the scattered ribbons of paper. “I figure they'll sign me up on the spot! I'll be the youngest Wonderbolt in history. . .” Her grin faded.

There was something about the confetti. Something familiar. Something that seemed to deflate her sense of joy, making it feel a little hollow. The pegasus standing in her shadow noticed the change and sidled closer. “I'd bet you could be more than that.” She whispered. “What if you could best any member of the Celestial Guard, hmmm? What if you could be the first pegasus in history to learn true magic?” The words caressed Dash's ear, making it twitch. She froze in place. “You know it's in your future. You know you're destined for greatness.” Images of herself streaking through the air, launching destructive magic left and right filled her head. The very thought stole her breath away.

For some reason that felt familiar, felt right. It was, strange as it might sound, going to happen. The stranger had a solid point. The sun had somehow already set, and Dash found herself in the foyer at the Royal Palace in Canterlot. It made sense. There was a celebration in her honor, hundreds of ponies gathered in the shadows to watch as she accepted some medal or something. But she still had that hollow feeling, left over from before. Something was off. . .

Dash spoke to the air. “Hmm. Being seen for how awesome I am is, you know, awesome and everything. But it feels kinda weird without my frien-”

“But don't you remember?” There was that voice again. “You left that backwoods hovel ages ago. Those needy parasites were only holding you down,” The stranger paced into view again, wearing an elaborate ball gown. “Making you ordinary.” She struck a graceful pose with one leg forward, her silver (black?) fur gleaming in the torchlight. “Normal.” She sneered the word, and Dash felt an answering disdain for anything that might warrant the word 'normal.'

Then the stranger folded herself forward in a graceful bow, as every pony in the vast room followed suit. “We all know you are anything but.” The stranger whispered urgently.

“Wait.” Dash held up a hoof to find it shod in precious metals like royalty. “What do you mean, I left?” She asked, her voice suffused with worry. “What did I say to them?” Her worry bled away, though. Something about the stunning ball gown was tugging at the back of Dash's mind, reminding her. . .

“Accept your greatness.” The stranger's tone was firm, commanding. “Embrace our power! Let none stand above you!”

That's it! Dash thought. The gown. I've seen it before. It's one of Rarity's. That single memory brought back a flood of other memories, a lifetime of recollections. This is a dream. This whole thing is a dream! It must be!

Rainbow Dash's eyes opened wide, and she saw the room before her more clearly. The ponies crouched in shadow were featureless, living mannequins bowing to her with dull lifelessness. The castle entrance was poorly lit, and the shadows seemed to flow where they willed, heedless of what light there was. And the stranger before her snarled as her colorless face began to melt. Then the stranger spoke. “In your heart you see the truth. You despise your friends. And if you don't now,” Her voice bubbled and dripped along with her flesh. “Live long enough and you will.” The voice rose several octaves. “Youuu wiiiiiillllllll!”

Dash back-trotted a step, her heart racing. She reached up to her neck, reflexively searching for the choker necklace she'd worn for the last month or more. She couldn't feel anything, but. . . She knew it must be there. Knew it with the certainty of dreams. Surrounded by nightmares, Rainbow Dash threw her head back. . .

And laughed. Deep belly laughs that hurt her sides, moistened her eyes and made her think of streamers and confetti and frosting and the color pink. She laughed until she fell over, then she kicked her legs for emphasis. Then she rolled into the gasping, tear-stained laughter that followed; when you want to stop laughing because it hurt, but life was just too damn absurd, so you kept on laughing. That kind of laughter.

The stranger stepped backwards slowly, smoothly, towards the shadows. She never lost her look of vicious disdain, and her gaze never wavered. Chunks of her skin and fur sizzled to black acid as they dropped to the floor.

Dash wiped the tears from her eyes. “Oh, that's fantastic! That's good, really good. . . But you, eheheheh. . . Oh, you got the wrong mare.” It was a dream. It was nothing more than that. And you had power in dreams, right? You just had to believe it, and you could change anything you wanted. “I don't need your stupid philoso-crap. You should have known I'd never abandon my friends.”

It was a dream, but she hadn't come here alone, had she? There was someone else here too. But then the shadowed forms rushed her from every angle, moving with the speed born of dreams. Each of them bore a solid lightness, an army of plastic ponies. The closest one bared ink black fangs framing solid, glistening teeth. It aimed for her throat. What did the stories say? If you die in your dreams. . .

There was no time, but it didn't matter. Dash's uppercut caught the mannequin solidly beneath the jaw, rocking it into a back-flip and sending it crashing into the forms behind it. More snapping jaws lunged from the left, but the teeth snapped hollowly against thin air. Dash had swept a wing up out of the way just before bringing it down over the mannequin's neck, and she used her wing as leverage to vault over its back, cracking another pair of plastic faces with two well timed strikes. She had just enough time to glance over her shoulder, aiming a rear hoof into a plastic collarbone and kicking hard enough that the neck snapped completely, sending the head and body spinning in different directions.

It had been a long time since Rainbow Dash had felt helpless in her dreams.

Monsters surrounded her, but Dash swayed and kicked, smashing legs and breaking jaws. A mannequin leaped towards her above the fray, mouth agape. Dash spun at the last instant, sweeping her tail through an arc while she deflected another with a forelimb. Once she felt the jaws close on her tail she flicked it, sending the thing crashing into three of its companions. Another mannequin lunged in her peripheral vision, and Dash instinctively raised a forelimb to block it. Realizing her mistake with a gasp she twisted her limb, feeling teeth like a steel trap graze her fur as she pulled her forelimb back and drove her elbow into its eye socket with a hollow crack.

Dash jumped into a spin, snapping her wings open to launch another pair of attackers into back flips as she swept herself into the air to give herself an advantage. As she flew towards the rafters, she felt no fear. None. This wasn't the sort of thing that scared her. At least, not anymore. There was a time when physical violence might have intimidated her, like any normal pony. There was a time when she couldn't move fast enough in her dreams, when her blows were weak and ineffectual against assailants in her own mind. But as her confidence soared during her days, so did her belief in herself during her worst nightmares. Rainbow Dash relished bad dreams in a way few ponies honestly did.

“Hah!” Dash taunted, slamming her front hooves together. “Did you ever pick the wrong fight!” As she scanned the shadows, looking for the gross-looking stranger, she began to remember Twilight. Canterlot always reminded her of Twilight; the super egghead who somehow made being a Grade-A Dorkmuffin look really, really bad-flank. “Come out and fight me like a mare, chicken! Is that all you got?”

The shadows swept around the room, enshrouding the cluster of plastic ponies until she could no longer see their vacant, staring faces. Dash thought about waiting to see what would happen next, but only for about half a second or so. Waiting not really being her style, she zipped up to the chandelier hanging above the castle entryway and grabbed for the links holding the enormous construct of metal and jewels aloft.

Something darted at her hoof and Dash pulled back with a yelp. There was a snake coiled atop the fixture, staring at her with beady red eyes. She squirmed, feeling like her skin was crawling while she hovered in mid-air. Not that she was afraid exactly, more that she'd been caught off guard. With an angry glare, Dash pulled back her hooves, focused hard, and struck at the chain with all her might.

Suck on this! A bolt of crimson energy cut through the links like they were clay, and the chandelier fell. The snake never broke eye-contact, and Dash felt an odd pang of regret. The snake wasn't to blame, was it? It didn't know any better. And suddenly Dash remembered who she sounded like. She remembered who had been sharing this dream with her the exact moment the chandelier hit the floor with a mighty crash, scattering plastic pony parts everywhere. Fluttershy! She had to find Fluttershy!

From the shadows plastic figures launched skyward, propelled now by black raven wings. Dark claws pushed their way out of their fake hooves with sharp snaps, and their mouths gaped hungrily.

“Woah!” Dash spun lightly, evading the first attacker and lashing out with a kick that shot the mannequin into a wall. She tucked her wings and reached a hoof down, catching the next creature by the forehead and flipping forward, rolling her tail out of the way of another one as she brought her rear hooves down on a third, splintering its face. With a savage roar Dash fell through the rising tide of mannequins, and shattered bits of plastic fell like rain. They couldn't touch her. She was a sledgehammer of righteous fury, utterly unstoppable.

Until a different form appeared, a pony face that ran like black, melted wax. A hoof that she never saw coming caught Dash in the temple, a blow that felt like a bundle of rocks made the world flash white and vanish just before something large and flat slapped hard across the back of Dash's neck. It took a moment for her to realize she'd hit the floor.

Her ears rang, and her vision blurred and jumped with her heartbeat. Before she could move, the melted pony had slammed her hooves down on Dash's wings, pinning them down. The disgusting face loomed in her sight, hot breath like an open furnace made Dash cough. “Pathetic mortal creature.” It burbled. “I am the doubt that eats away at you like a swarm of termites. I am hatred and loathing and bitter spite.”

“Yeah? Well Bitter Spite needs a breath mint.” Dash braced her shoulders and shoved upwards with her wings, lifting the strange thing into the air, buying herself the room to ready a solid punch.

It was like punching rancid butter. Black spilth spattered everywhere, and the stranger's face deformed grotesquely around her limb. With a gurgle that sounded like drowning laughter the pony's face shifted, bringing its teeth through its flesh to sink deep into Dash's skin. She cried out in pain as blood began to flow down into the crook of her arm. With irresistible strength the wax pony jerked up with its head and stomped her hooves, shattering Dash's wings against the cold marble.

The pain was excruciating, like white-hot lightning searing through her nerves. Her scream shook her own eardrums, and she felt something tear in her throat from the force of her cry. It's not real it's not real it's not real it's not real it's not real oh Celestia help me it's not real it can't be real none of this is happening! There was the fear. Right there. That fluttery panic that tightens your muscles and makes you want to escape or cry out for help or give up or anything just to make it all stop.

As her vision returned, she noticed the creature had withdrawn a few steps, and its grin stretched sickeningly wide. Dash sat up, cradling her bitten hoof and scooting backwards on her haunches, her wings trailing limply on either side of her. Through a veil of tears and a red haze of pain, she watched staring mannequins line up on either side of the stranger's mocking grin. It opened its mouth to speak. “You could have been so much more. Such a waste.”

As her blood dripped steadily onto the cold marble, Rainbow Dash's hurt expression hardened into a defiant scowl.

“Mmmmmmm. . .” The stranger licked the blood from her chin with a tongue that looked like an old, dry slug. “She still has some fight left.” With a subtle tilt of her head, the mannequins surged forward.

It's not real! Dash turned and blinked, and in that blink she held the walls and the floor and the entirety of Canterlot in her mind. It's not real! She sort of twisted and pulled, and by the time her eyes opened she flung herself off the edge of Cloudsdale as claws raked at her back legs.

The sun was shining again. The rushing air spun Dash around enough to see Cloudsdale begin to dwindle above her, and dark winged shapes plunged over the side in pursuit. Her own wings fluttered uselessly in the breeze, every buffet sending pain up through her shoulders. She wasn't certain why she picked Cloudsdale. Maybe just because it was the last dream-place she remembered being.

Usually a several-thousand foot drop was comforting. Or awesome. Now it didn't seem to be any of those things. And the fake pegasi were catching up to her. A black shape swooped in from the side, plastic falling away to reveal a huge black-winged bird with a monkey face, its screech framed by those same ugly teeth. Empty eye sockets revealed nothing but more soulless darkness, and eagle claws stretched out to pluck Dash from the air.

It vanished in a crimson bolt of magic, a few stray feathers the only evidence it ever existed. Dash looked down at her hoof, blue lit by the red of the glowing jewel at her throat. She reached her good hoof up to her neck and heard a metallic sound. Her Element was there, just like she knew it had been all along. She adjusted herself, keeping her back to the ground, and aimed her hoof carefully upwards.

Get, She blasted another ugly harpy out of the sky. Out, One tried to spiral out of the way. It didn't help. Of, She made a slicing motion with her hoof, and two other creatures split in half. My, One drew close enough for Dash to see the inside of its mouth as it screamed. HEAD! With two hooves she shoved a bolt of magic down its throat.

Over the edge of the cloud bank a black pony face appeared. Dash was already far enough away that any normal pony should have looked like a dot, but the waxy head that appeared was massive. Just as its alien eyes focused on her, a red bolt of magic slammed into its face, rocking it backward. Rainbow Dash smirked.

The thing roared like some kind of demonic lion, pure hate and rage shaking the world around her. A black corona oozed around the sun, dimming the light, and Dash's smirk vanished. It's just a dream, right? She reminded herself. But the reality of the dream was thinning, and behind it seethed the Darkness like a living presence. In a flash of insight, Dash realized that the wax stranger and the Darkness were the same thing, and it wanted her. Wanted to crush her and strip her of her friends and herself and maybe her flesh and leave her wandering the wasteland a deformed, grotesque monster. The thin veil of the dream was her only defense, and the more lucid she became, the more control she exerted, the closer the outside Darkness would come to swallowing her.

If she fell deep enough into the reality of the dream, she would die. If she woke up, she would die. Gritting her teeth against the sensation of her wing bones grinding together, Dash turned her body and arrowed herself towards the ground, hoping to pick up speed. I've gotta keep this up until I can find Fluttershy. There, growing beneath her, was a lake that was probably crystal blue before the sun began to dim. Now shadows shifted over its surface, making it look scum-covered and stagnant. More harpy screeches closed in on her back, but she refused to look over her shoulder. That's always when they get you in a dream. Never, ever look back.

Dash drew back her hoof, gasped a breath and struck, her magic deforming the water's surface a split second before she hit it herself with a massive splash. Water filled her ears and nose, and she held on to her breath with grim desperation. She pried her eyes open to silty blackness, the surface vanishing far above. Dash grabbed a hold of the dream again, grabbed and twisted. She believed, truly believed she would surface. And when she broke the surface, she would be. . .

She surfaced gasping, flinging her mane out of her eyes. Blinking hard in the dim sunlight, she looked up to find a small bridge spanning a stream. The bridge that led to Fluttershy's cottage. There! It was exactly where it should have been, looking exactly the way it was supposed to. Dash flung herself out of the stream, tearing through reeds as she galloped towards the front door. She knew, with the strange logic of dreams, that Fluttershy must be inside.

The reeds behind her rustled ominously, and Dash didn't have to glance behind her to know that something was slithering towards the backs of her ankles. Several somethings. She fought the urge to glance behind herself and turned her limping gallop into a dead sprint. Just don't look back just don't look just don't look. . . The fur rose on the back of her neck and her hooves itched with panic. The pain of her injuries felt muted by the rush of adrenaline in her veins.

The door was unlocked. In a rush Dash shouldered her way through it, slammed it shut behind her and threw her back against the polished wood, gasping for breath.

Her reflexes saved her life. Her shield was compact, strong and focused, while Spike's attack had been broad and uncontrolled. Even so, if Twilight had the time to ground herself properly her shield would have crumpled like tinfoil. Spike lacked control and knowledge, certainly, but he also lacked restraint. His shout carved a swath in the crater wall as it flung Twilight backward at an incredible speed. Acting on instinct, she curled into a ball as the world went black. The deafening cacophony of shattering rock filled her ears, until it melded into a painful ringing that pierced her temples.

Her eyes blinked open to a cocoon of stone just outside her shield. The world beyond shifted and rumbled, doubtlessly more rock slides triggered by Spike's carelessness. Twilight panted hard, her slitted eyes glazed with unbelief. Spike? She wasn't surprised by his grasp of power. Every dragon was, in essence, a creature of magic. No, Twilight was stunned by his rage. He could have killed me. She exhaled hard. He really could have killed me! Her brow crumpled into a scowl. Clearly he was too young, too vulnerable, and far too irresponsible to have the kind of power the Darkness offered.

With an effort of will Twilight grounded herself and shoved outward, hard. The loose rock parted easily, and she burst out into relative light. The shadow of the sun's setting had swept through a good portion of the crater, leaving the far rim still lit by the sun's glow. The strange worm was airborne again, but it meant nothing to her. Spike was playing with forces he couldn't understand, and he had somehow become the biggest threat to her and her friends. And she was worried about him, of course.

He wasn't hard to spot. The shadows of the curse rippled towards him, as though drawn by a current. Darkness flowed, mounding into a conflagration of power like a beacon. Twilight blinked forward, appearing just outside the nest of shadows. Mentally she prepared to defend herself, but she did not attack. “Spike?” She called. “You've got to stop this!” No response, but she could feel his anger pulsing outward. Twilight sharpened her voice. “Spike! Get out here right now!”

The dome of shadows parted like underwater weeds, and a small black form sulked out. He kept his head down, as though expecting some sort of chastisement. Twilight felt the first touch of relief. Maybe he could be reasoned with. “Spike. . .” She said gently. “Stop this. Come back to the ship with me.”

“No.” His muffled reply was terse.

Icy claws scuttled down Twilight's spine. “What? You. . . You'd rather stay out here?”

Black scales rose and fell through a few breaths before he shook his head no. “I'm not going back. Not with you.”

She was at a loss. Just what was he so upset about? “What is it, Spike? You know you can talk to me.” Distant sounds of combat reached her ears, but they scarcely flicked. Spike was the center of her universe, and nothing else mattered.

He scoffed, still without looking up. “Sure. So long as you're not distracted by some research paper. Or running off to parties without me.”

What's that supposed to mean? “You had a bedtime.” She said. “Look, I know you're upset that I went ahead without you, but we really didn't have much choice! I was trying to spare you!”

“It's always 'Spike, fetch this!' 'Spike, clean that!'” He looked up then, glaring through misty, bloodshot eyes. “But when it matters, when it really matters. . .” His little claws balled into fists.

Twilight's hooves touched the ground, the darkness caressing her legs as she walked towards the lorn figure. “You can't just lay this all on me. You wanted to help out around the library. You practically jumped at the chance!”

“Of course I did.” Spike's words were venomous. “You were all the family I'd ever known. I would have broken my back for you if you'd asked me to.”

Had he really felt this way the whole time? “But. . . I would never have asked you. . . Spike, you know I've never done anything to hurt you, right?”

His eyes unfocused, like distant voices were whispering in his ear. When his eyes found Twilight again, they'd filled with even more pain. “You had power over me.” He nodded, as though it had all become clear in that moment. “You had power over me, and you used it! Your assistant? Your housemaid? You shaped me into your little slave.”

“Stop it! This isn't you!”

“I was your trophy, wasn't I? No other student had a dragon as a pet. I was your living, breathing proof that you were an 'A' student. Yeah, but only until something important came up. Then you left me behind every chance you got!”

“I didn't ask for this!” Twilight was crying now. Where had things gone so wrong? His accusations touched upon a secret fear, and his words cut deep. “I was just a filly!” The shadows about her rippled faster, and her horn began to glow. “I'm sorry I wasn't ready to be a parent!”

“Obviously.” His eyes narrowed. “But even a foal wouldn't take advantage of a baby!”

“It wasn't my fault!” Twilight felt a dangerous mix of frustration, anger and shame bubbling up inside her. “Celestia gave you to me!”

“Maybe she shouldn't have.”

Twilight didn't know she was going to do it. If pressed by her closest friends, she would have jumped at the chance to blame the darkness for what she did then. But deep in the hidden corners of her heart, during the loneliest hours of the night, this one moment would wake her in a cold sweat. And she would wonder if she had no one to blame but herself.

Spike tumbled limply backwards, rolling to a stop face down among the rocks. Twilight gaped at her own outstretched hoof, its oily sheen suddenly repugnant. This was the role model she'd become. Of course Spike had embraced the darkness in his heart. After all, he was just following in her hoofsteps. Twilight, Her mind spoke in Celestia's voice, sharp and reproving. What have you done?

No! I didn't mean to!

Look at him!

He said. . . I just. . .

LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE!!!

Spike pushed himself up to his knees. His face was so contorted by pain and hate that she could barely recognize him. “Wait,” She said weakly, trying hard not to throw up. “I-I'm sorry.”

It wasn't enough. Nothing would ever be enough again.

The walls groaned. The floor shook. The single bed in the infirmary vibrated along with the loud grinding of the delicate airship sliding over loose rocks. Flashes of light illuminated the dim room in a series of black and white images etched against the walls. Oh, and the room itself swayed and shifted as they moved. This was going to be next door to impossible. “Lay her on the bed, her head towards me! Shade, set up the IV pole.” Pin Feather slid into a crouch, slamming his head into the counter as he misjudged the airship's movements. “Gah! Alicorn teats!”

The black-feathered gryphon grunted as he helped lift Applejack into place. “Is he really the only qualified. . .”

“Stow that thought.” Sun Shade twisted a black knob and swiveled a metal pole upright by the head of the small bed. It took her three tries to get it right, what with all the lurching and swaying. “Just try to hold her steady, Skan, and I'll try not to dock your paycheck.”

Pin Feather reappeared. “Sky, grab the swabs from the cabinet and get the inside crook of her left elbow. Shade, these should help.” He tossed her a pair of white straps, restraints that could anchor a patient to the cot in a crisis.

“Ah. Good thinking.” Shade passed them along. “Skan, would you be a dear?”

He took them with a look of disgust. “What in the forge fires are these?” He brandished the straps menacingly. “What are these for? Holding your patients down so they can't struggle when you perform horrible, experimental surgeries on them?”

Sun Shade braced herself against the edge of the bed and bucked a hind hoof into Skan's ribs, pushing him out of the way. She spun smoothly, snatching the straps from him with her teeth and turning back to the cot before Applejack slid off the edge. She began securing the straps in place. “If your tongue cannot remain civil in your beak, I will be forced to find another location for it.”

“Shade,” Pin Feather's claws closed gently around her upper arm. “It's okay.” He snapped open a small case, pulling out a needle and a small tube. “We need to get this IV started. That's what matters.”

Once Applejack was secured, he climbed carefully onto the bed. Bracing his hind paws, he spread his wings until they touched the sides of the small room. He tried to hold himself steady as he laid one foreclaw along the inside of the earth pony's arm, finding a spot where the fur was thinnest. “Shade, get the tape. Sky, help hold her still.”

“Um,” Clear Sky's voice wavered lightly, “I don't feel a heartbeat anymore.”

“Shush.” Pin Feather took a deep, steadying breath. The airship rocked and crashed, jostling everyone. Skan slid into the cabinets, and Sky clutched at the edge of the bed to keep from doing the same. Pin Feather growled, his wings trembling, but he kept himself in place. He took another firm breath, held it, and on the exhale slipped the needle under the mare's skin.

A trickle of blood seeped out, and Pin Feather quickly attached the small, rubber tube. “Got it! Shade, get the mana diodes! Sky, grab one of the clear bags from the top left cabinet and hook it up!”

Clear Sky nervously rubbed his bloody hooves on his coat. “I've. . . I don't know what I'm doing. . .”

“Here.” Skan grumbled. “They go like this.” He reached above Sky's head and into the cabinet.

Shade appeared at Pin Feather's side, holding a pair of short wooden staves, each capped with a jagged blue crystal and a short coil of metal that wrapped around the crystal and protruded off the end. Pin Feather quickly felt for a pulse with a gentle digit, and his pupils constricted. “Ohhhhh-kay.” He breathed. “Yeah, we need those.” His movements became more hurried and frantic as he felt Applejack's ribcage. Deftly, he used the inside of a talon to shave away a little fur on the lower-left portion of her ribs. Then he did the same higher up, just to the right of her sternum.

“Shade,” He grabbed the crystal that glowed with a dim blue light. “You know how these work?”

She nodded, removing the staff with the inert gem from her mouth. “In theory.”

“Yeah. . . same here.” Pin Feather carefully angled the rod so that the coil compressed against Applejack's skin, the glow of the crystal muted as the metal rings slid closer together. “Okay, line yours up with mine, on the other side.” He watched Skan finish hooking up the clear tube connecting the hanging bag with the tube in Applejack's arm. Pin Feather eyed his work. “Looks good. But you may want to step back from the table now.”

“Yeah? Why's that?” Skan countered.

Pin Feather shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Sun Shade nodded her readiness, holding the opposing stick flush against Applejack's chest without touching her or the table. Pin Feather held his end cautiously, moving a talon to hover over the far end of the staff and the small mound of resin at its tip. At the last second, Skan backed away a pace, shaking his head.

Pin Feather depressed the end, and an electric hum resonated off the walls. Applejack's body shuddered a little. He scowled, removing his end of the mana diodes, now dull and grey.

“What was that?” Skan asked.

“Did it work?” Sun Shade examined her end, now emanating a dull glow.

Pin Feather slid another talon up to the earth pony's neck, just above the necklace she still wore. “Grrr. When was the last time these things were charged?!?” He slung the contraption onto the counter. “Okay. . . Uh. . . I don't suppose any of you have a spare mana capacitor on you?” A trio of blank stares was his only answer. “Or any experience manipulating lightning?”

Skan shook his head. “Just Dusk Wing, but he was a Tarsonite. And Reeds, of course. . . Oh.” He reached out a comforting foreclaw to an even more wilted Clear Sky.

“Princess Luna likely has the requisite skills.” Sun Shade peered out of the nearby porthole. “But it seems as though she's oh my word that looks troubling.”

“Yeah. . .” Pin Feather fidgeted. “I kinda figured something along those lines.” He glanced around the room, desperately searching for an alternative. “Time is a factor, so I guess it's up to me. Try not to squish me or hit me with stuff, okay?”

As Skan crowded forward to get a peek out the window, Sun Shade turned away from the conflict outside. “Whatever do you mean. . .” Green light flashed through the room. “Oh. Oh my.”

Pin Feather stood before them, a changeling once again. His voice buzzed. “Shade, line up your mana crystal.”

She nodded, once again positioning herself at Applejack's side. “Are you certain this will work?”

“What choice have we got? It's not like I can make her any more dead, right?” Pin Feather's gnarled, black horn began to glow with a green light, like a bright lantern draped in moss. He lowered his horn to her ribs. Clear Sky squeezed his eyes shut and looked away. Sun Shade steadied the mana diode in her jaws as the world outside finally went quiet.

Everything was still for a moment. Then a harsh crackle of electricity jolted Applejack's body into an arch as every muscle in her body spasmed at once. Pin Feather slumped back onto his haunches, panting, but Sun Shade fell backwards completely, the short wooden rod in her mouth now capped by a white-hot blinding glow. The brightness intensified, scaling upward to match the high-pitched whine cutting through the room. White sparks began to leap out of the crystal, forcing Shade to twitch her eyes away.

“Crap! Look out!” Pin Feather shouted weakly, but Sun Shade had already lobbed the strobing crystal over her companions' heads and into the hallway. Skan swept the smaller Clear Sky in to his chest as he spun into a crouch, spreading his wings as a detonation bowled them all over. The deep wump was loud enough to make every other noise seem quiet by comparison.

The sharp smell of ozone and singed carpet rolled into the room. Sun Shade's ears drooped. “My deepest apologies you two! Are you quite alright?”

Skan craned his neck to get a good look at his backside. “Yeah, I'm good. I think.” He stepped back from Sky, who wasn't even looking in his direction.

“Did it work?” Sky asked, hope suffusing his voice.

Everyone turned to see Pin Feather's black form slumped over the edge of the bed, his odd blue eyes half-lidded and the corners of his mouth quirked up. Despite his somewhat alien features, he looked as though he might laugh in relief.

There were a pair of shallow scorch marks on Applejack's chest, where the bare skin was raw and red. But her ribs rose and fell gently, and the beat of her pulse was plain to see.

Sun Shade's own breath caught in her throat before a few breathy laughs escaped her magenta lips. She ran a careless hoof through her tousled mane before shooting the changeling a fierce smile. “I knew it. I knew you could do it.”

Clear Sky had his hooves clasped before him, his eyes welling with gratitude. Even Skan's scowl had lifted, replaced by something wary. Possibly tinged with respect. Pin Feather's limbs twitched as he felt something he hadn't felt in days: nourishment. His eyes closed as the love, strongest from Sun Shade, poured into him like water into parched soil. His breathing steadied.

And he wasn't even pretending to look like someone else. That thought alone made his eyes fly back open, regarding the ponies and the gryphon before him. Yup, his hooves still had big, pocked holes through the congealed chitin of his exoskeleton. His tongue found both of his prominent fangs still on display in his mouth. But they still. . .

A goofy grin plastered itself across his face. He couldn't help it. With new found strength coursing through his limbs he pushed himself up. “Let's not get too comfortable. We still need to stabilize her.” He buzzed. “Grab the gauze, I need to start cleaning these wounds.”

Shade nodded, swaying a little bit as her eyelids drooped, followed by a look of mild alarm. “What? What did you. . . Have--Did you just. . ?” She sputtered. Pin Feather cringed sheepishly, offering her a guilty look. Shade swatted him playfully. “Don't you ever do that again, do you quite understand?”

“What was I supposed to do?” The changeling asked defensively. “Help fight off an alicorn obsessed with death, starve for two days, and then pull off a lightning spell which, might I remind you, was a miracle of delicacy?” Skan turned to regard the damage done to the hallway and snorted. “And then what?” Pin Feather continued, riding the brash wave of elation coursing through him. “Just turn down your freely-offered feelings of gratitude out of some misplaced sense of propriety?” He knew enough not to call it love. Not out loud.

“Yes.” Sun Shade sniffed in mock disdain. “Or at least warn a lady next time, if you cannot control your baser instincts. 'Twould only be proper, you know.” She made a show of adjusting herself, sorting out her mane. “Such a frightful thing, feeding upon a lady's emotions without her leave. I've half a mind to be offended.” A glimmer of playfulness accompanied her words, and Pin Feather stifled a grin. He could still feel the love radiating off of her, as though he stood in clean sunlight after weeks in a damp cave.

“But of course, my lady.” It would have been improper to throw a hug around her, so he turned his attention back to his patient. He blinked the moisture out of his eyes so he wouldn't be seen wiping it away.

Something chilled the brief elation coursing through the room. The infirmary had already been dim before, but now the shadows began drinking the light and swelling, flowing together to fade everything out of existence. Sun Shade leaned her muzzle against the porthole once again. “I suppose we should hold on to something.” Despair made her words sound heavy and final. “My friends, it has been an honor serving with you all.”

32: "To Corruption And Blackness"

Nothing hit the door. Nothing pounded, nothing rattled, nothing shook. The sudden silence made Dash feel as though the world outside had vanished completely. It was dark in Fluttershy's cabin, and she blinked to try and adjust her eyes to the gloom. Only then did she notice the smell. Something smelled sharp and unplesant. A foul odor she couldn't quite place. . .

Movement drew her eye to the far side of the living room, a shifting in the shadows, a soft rustling. Dash suddenly had the impression that she'd been chased here, herded like so much cattle. She squinted hard, the light from her pendant falling far short of the walls. She readied herself to strike, and strike hard. She felt, deep in her bones, that she wouldn't survive another encounter with the wax stranger.

It took her a moment to find her voice. “Fluttershy?” More rustling, but no answer. Dash licked her dry lips and tried again. “Fluttershy, is that you?” Breathing hard, she slowly pulled herself off the front door and, when it didn't smash inward, she limped forward. Shadows flowed to fill the space behind her. “Fluttershy?”

A soft voice drifted into her ears, a voice as devoid of threat as a kitten's plaintive mewl. “Um, I don't think you're supposed to be here. Please go away.”

Dash released a heavy breath she didn't even know she'd been holding. “Fluttershy! For hoof's sake, you almost gave me a heart attack! We've got to get out of here.”

Dash advanced another couple of steps, and the glow from her pendant fell upon a crouching pegasus pushing herself up against a wall next to a small bookshelf. Her coat and mane were a pale grey in the crimson light, and every muscle in her body trembled. Her wide eyes were vacant, seeing nothing, and her shoulders pressed to the floor as though an immense weight had pinned her in place. “Please go.” Fluttershy whimpered. “Wh-Whoever you are.”

Dash sagged like she'd been kicked in the stomach. “Oh, wow. You. . . You don't remember me at all? It's me, Rainbow Dash.”

“I'd just – I must have forgotten something.” Fluttershy's trembling intensified. “I was supposed to do something, but I must have forgot. I'm sorry I forgot!” Her voice rose in pitch. “I don't remember forgetting, but I must have, because all my little friends. . .”

“What are you babbling about?” Dash asked, even though she thought she might be starting to understand. She felt a lump rise in her throat, and she swallowed it down hard. That rank smell was beginning to make a sick sort of sense.

“I - I tried to feed them, but they wouldn't eat! They wouldn't move. . . They wouldn't – So, s-so I tried bringing them all water, in little dishes. . .” Fluttershy was hyperventilating now, her pupils shrunk to pinpricks. “B-but they wouldn't drink, and they wouldn't eat, and they wouldn't play, a-and they wouldn't m-m-move, even when I nudged them a little.” Abrupt sobs started to break apart her words. “And – and I didn't – I didn't know. . . I'm s. . . And – and I've been – been so lonely – and I'm. . . s-s-s-s-sor-ry!”

Oh, her dream was bad alright. That lump in Dash's throat only got worse, and her vision blurred a little. She reached out a hoof, and Fluttershy twitched away, pushing herself harder against the wall. And in that moment her mane shifted, revealing a white growth like a cancer between her shoulder blades. Dash gasped and blinked her eyes clear. Oh, it's just Angel. The fluffy rabbit with the attitude problem was always hanging out in Fluttershy's mane. In fact, he looked like he was trying to comfort her or something.

Wait. On closer inspection, Angel bunny was. . . was gently chewing on Fluttershy's neck. With a wide crescent mouth filled with tiny, needle-like teeth. Without moving, it glanced up and met Dash's gaze. And it grinned, the corners of its mouth slick with blood. It's face sagged a little, like soft wax.

“AAAAUUAGH!” Dash involuntarily tried to jump out of her own skin. It was already here. It had Fluttershy. Had her stuck inside her worst nightmare. A hollow rushing sound filled Dash's ears, like wind through a wasteland.

The rabbit spoke, oozing the words out from around its mouthful of fur. “Fret not.” It was the stranger's voice. “You are next.”

Rainbow Dash drew back her hoof. “Oh, you're going DOWN!” She struck, her panic and rage swelling her power. The bolt of magic she flung accidentally clipped Fluttershy and nearly tossed her out the hole it blew in the wall, revealing a fractured landscape where inky tendrils of darkness probed their way up through cracks in the ground. But the Angel imposter had leaped easily over her assault, flinging itself at Dash's head. It grew as it arced, like a balloon swelling, and its mouth stretched wider and wider and wider.

It smashed into the floor, sending chunks and splinters of wood into the air. But Dash wasn't there. She'd hopped backwards, her injured hoof faltering beneath her weight as she landed. The wax Angel now looked like a bulbous monster, hunched and muscular. A barbed paw shot out, and Dash had to roll herself out of the way, wincing at the pain in her useless wings. The exact moment her hooves hit the floor again she pushed hard with her three good limbs, jumping straight into the air, evading massive, lunging jaws.

Dash twisted as she jumped, and she landed on the deformed rabbit's back, her hooves sinking a little bit into the waxy substance. Then she drove her hoof down against the back of the creature's skull, detonating magic as she did. The creature's entire head vaporized, along with one of Fluttershy's end tables. Fortunately, pain was a firm teacher and Dash a fast learner. She snatched her hoof back as another set of jaws slid out of the rabbit's shoulder, clamping shut with a metallic ringing sound.

She kicked backwards the next instant, peeling her hooves off the thing as she back-flipped. The world spun, and the wax creature turned to face her, another head re-forming as it roared, shaking the walls. Then she saw the ceiling, still thick with shadows. Then the blasted wall, and Fluttershy hanging on over the edge of the hole as the world disappeared beneath her, the dream splintering bit by bit. As she completed the flip, her vision filled with a wide, waxy mouth, its bitter breath somehow worse than the stench of death that filled the innocent little cottage.

Dash struck with both hooves, the magical concussion shoving her away from the beast as light seared her eyes and her ears rang. She hit the wall like a bundle of rags and collapsed to the floor. She tried to ground herself the way Luna taught her, bracing her mind deep within the fraying fabric of the dream. With a gasp she flung out her good hoof, putting up a shield in time to have the demon slam against it, deforming and squishing as its jaws snapped for her face. But the shield didn't budge. Hah! Nailed it! She allowed herself a small, triumphant grin.

Having bought herself a moment, Rainbow Dash dove towards the hole in the wall, grabbing a yellow hoof just as it slipped off the jagged bit of wood it was clutching. “Gotcha!” Dash hauled backwards, dragging Fluttershy back into the cabin. “Celestia, that was a close one. Why didn't you just fly back in?”

“Um,” Fluttershy scooted backwards a little, avoiding all eye contact. “Thank you, I guess. Whoever you are.”

“Woah.” Dash used her good hoof to pull the mare's eyes up to hers. “Try and remember me.” She reached out her injured hoof and touched it to Fluttershy's collarbone, precisely where her Element should have been. “You and I go way back, Fluttershy.”

The timid pegasus pulled her face away, but her brow creased in thought as she mouthed the unfamiliar name. Her own name.

Dash's gaze was imploring. “You said, 'Remember to trus-'” A shattering sound accompanied a shattering sensation in her mind as a huge tacky paw blasted through her shield and slammed her to the floor. A deep roar shook the world. Then the floor disappeared, as Dash found herself crashing through a pair of thick ceiling beams. Fortunately the giant limb itself took the brunt of the impacts as it swung her around, but her vision still flickered. Then she found herself blinking blearily into a hellish face stretched taut into a grin that went on forever.

“Break.” The bubbling voice crooned. “Just break.”

Dash's jaw felt unhinged, but it seemed to work okay without her. “Just bite me.” She mumbled. “You sticky sack of crap. . .”

“Hush.” The digits holding her off the floor flowed together, merging and oozing up her neck, until the vile substance covered her mouth and nose. Dash held onto her breath, glaring as she struggled uselessly. She started to feel lightheaded. It's not real! She thought frantically. I don't even need to breathe here, do I? It's just a stupid frikkin' dream! But as much as she tried to convince herself, she still struggled to draw air into her lungs. Her hoof and her wings still hurt bitterly. The dream still held her. This dream sucks.

“Let my friend go.” A voice like soft chimes spoke, and Dash's eyebrows shot upward. She rolled her eyes as far as she could, and caught sight of Fluttershy. The pegasus still looked grey, weak and shaken, but the color had returned to her eyes, and she stood her ground.

The wax creature had continued to swell as the dream crumbled, and it was now a monstrous parody of a rabbit, easily taking up half of the modest cottage. It paused for a second to consider this new threat. Dash shouted a warning, muffled as it was, but the creature's paw shot out too quickly slamming down atop Fluttershy before she could make a sound and Dash tried to cry out even though she was too late and too helpless to save her.

That demonic face returned, filling her vision. Dash's eyebrows clenched into an enraged scowl. You'd better make sure I'm dead. Dash thought bitterly as tiny lights began to dance before her eyes. Because I'm gonna peel you like a grape you rotten bastard.

Dash's chest was on fire, and her vision swam out of focus. So she didn't see the exact moment the leering face turned away, but she noticed it wasn't smiling anymore. Dash blinked hard a few times. What. . . A pale blue glow was leaking out from under the massive paw. The beast snarled, its rounded shoulders hunching as it drove its weight down onto its mitt, crushing it into the wood of the floor, eliciting another muffled roar from Dash.

Then the monster's paw started to shake. It rose slowly up into the air, revealing a radiant Fluttershy on her hind legs, lifting the paw up over her head with sheer force. Dash wondered for a moment if she was hallucinating. Until Fluttershy's voice rang out, clear and strong. “I said, let her go!” Her mane was matted and filthy, but her coat shone like clean sunshine, the gem of her Element a beacon of light.

The waxy flesh oozed down over her hooves, encasing her to the elbows, but Fluttershy snarled in response, and the creature's flesh hardened, desiccated, until the dry tissue fractured like desert soil. Then she wrenched her hooves free, and the beast's paw shattered, scattering chunks of dry flesh all around her.

The demon's mouth opened. A bass rumble eclipsed by a piercing, alien cry of pain dribbled forth, its fleshy gullet undulating in time with the sound. It scooped up a large wooden cabinet with its stump and brought it down like a club with a mighty crash. But Fluttershy had stepped towards the monster, beyond the splintering wood, and wrapped her arms around the appendage. “Let her go now!” With a cracking sound, Fluttershy twisted the arm off at the elbow and flung the dry limb against the wall.

Dash found herself being swung like a weapon at her friend. Fluttershy braced herself, wings outstretched. Dash watched the cottage rush around her, and she collided sideways against Fluttershy's ribs. But she forced her eyes to stay open, so she saw the moment Fluttershy put her hoof through the demon's wrist, snapping off the paw encasing Dash in the same motion.

The two of them spun into the wall, her disgusting prison crumbling into pieces. She gasped huge, shuddering breaths before curling into a coughing fit that made her eyes run. But she blinked hard, trying to clear her eyes as best she could, because she didn't want to miss one second of this. Fluttershy was already back on her feet, flipping her mane out of her eyes. “You asked for it, Mister.”

The yellow pegasus charged across the room, and the wax demon swung its mighty limbs. Her chest still heaving, Dash forced herself to stand, intent on helping her friend. But by the time she did, it was all over. Fluttershy had already pounced atop the monstrosity and was tearing it apart with her bare hooves. As it crumbled into chunks of dry mud, it's bubbling wails dwindled down to mere glubs. “Woah.” Dash stared in genuine awe.

Then the wall behind her splintered, showering her with bits of wood. Dash staggered forward, shielding her face with a hoof. Behind her, black tendrils leaked and probed, obscuring a wasteland of barren rock.

Fluttershy appeared at her side. “It's okay, Rainbow.” Dash found herself staring into kind cyan eyes. “It's just the dream falling apart. Are you hurt?”

Dash grimaced and shrugged. “My wings are pretty messed up, other than. . .”

Fluttershy was shaking her head. “No, I meant really hurt. In here.” A hoof reached up to touch Dash's own Element, dimly glowing crimson. “Your physical injuries only exist here because your mind says they should.”

“Feels pretty real.” Dash muttered. But then she had to think about it for a second, as more of the cottage fell away. “Oh, you mean like mentally or spiritually or whatcrap? Nah, I'm fine. It'd take more than some nasty booger demon to get to me.” Her smirk faded into uncertainty. “What about you? You were in. . . in kind of a dark place there for awhile.”

Fluttershy shuddered delicately, but she centered herself with a breath. “I'm fine, I think.”

“Look, Fluttershy, I'm really sorry I said you would lose a fight with a breakfast muffin. I, like, totally underestimated you and stuff.”

“Oh,” Fluttershy brushed some dust off her coat. “That's okay. Don't worry about it.”

“No, seriously.” Dash's eyes positively glowed with excitement. “You kicked some royal flank back there! You were amazing!”

“Um, thanks.” Fluttershy smiled. “But we really should. . .”

“I mean it.” Dash interrupted, her tone intense. “There's nopony I'd rather have watching my back than you.”

Fluttershy grabbed Dash by the hoof and slung her to the side just as the floor erupted, fractured into chunks like rafts atop a sea of darkness. “That's great,” Fluttershy said. “Thank you. You're a good friend too. But we need to leave. Now.”

Dash nodded. “Just tell me what to do.”

Princess Luna held tightly to the magical tether in her hooves as it guided her in broad curves through the air. She could see nothing beyond the bright phosphorescent flashes that forced her to squeeze her eyes shut. She could hear nothing over the continuous stream of detonations reverberating all around and below her. Magically, she could sense nothing beyond the ripples of energy those detonations unleashed. Despite the way her ears rang and her eyes watered, she grinned. Her spell was designed to overwhelm and disorient the senses, and it seemed to be working. The sky-worm undulated somewhere below her without direction or purpose, and so long as she could keep this up, her charges somewhere below her remained safe.

Never before had she encountered a being so prodigious. And here she rode the beast through the sky of a forsaken land, putting to shame even the most epic of verses sung about heroes of old. Squinting hard, Luna could barely make out the very tip of the whisker she had encumbered with her snare, and she smiled through the severity of her plight. “Great worm!” She spoke for her ears and her ears alone. “We name thee Ouroboros the Devourer, after the creation tale told by the Sarosans! 'Tis an honor to do battle with thee!”

Surely the Elements could achieve the sort of magic required to bind such a beast, at least, Luna fervently hoped so. She felt that her options were as limited as her power, a feeling which stuck bitterly in her throat. The land thronged with a power she dared not touch, and the gifted prodigy who had bargained for access to that power was, by a misbegotten twist of fate, indisposed. Irony was indeed a cruel and bitter mistress. So she contented herself with her light display, launching tiny balls of moonlight from the tip of her horn that arced forward and exploded into loud bangs and bright flashes, until she could devise another plan. Or, more likely, until her subjects could find the opportunity to assist her.

That was the plan, at least. Until a ripple of energy surged through her magical smoke screen, a flurry of ice pelting her horn from somewhere along the rim below. And despite her best efforts, the colossus twisted in her grasp, angling back towards the disturbance with a deep, resonating groan. What transpires. . ? Luna ceased her distraction, allowing the sky to clear long enough to blink her eyes and clear her senses.

Through the gathering dark of night power erupted; geysers of magic vomiting into the air and scything clumsily along the slope, wreaking unfocused havoc. By the cold rime of the moon. . . Young Spike? It did not feel like Twilight Sparkle, and the bright unicorn would never have unleashed spells so crude, or so undiscriminatingly dangerous. In point of fact her sharp eyes spotted below, not nearly distant enough from the outpouring of power, the dim outline of the Vigil. As she and the colossus drew closer, she noted how the vicious attacks curved or deflected away from the transport. Twilight. . . Even when the world has turned against thee and thy heart fills with shadows, thou art still true to thy friends.

Yet the worm approached, and it was vast enough to swallow every good thing which remained. Luna shuddered to think what might come next. But she would not allow these fine souls to perish without a fight. She needed to become more clever. Immediately.

“Back!” Pinkie Pie shouted over her shoulder. “Back back back back back back back back back!!!!”

“I'm trying!” Rarity retorted. “It is not as easy as all that!”

“Well keep trying!” Pinkie's head was stuck out of the Vigil's windows. “There's craaaaaazy stuff going on out here!”

“There's crazy stuff going on right here!” Rarity maintained her undignified position, a sprawled stance in the very center of the bridge. “I'm speaking to rocks, for sweet chamomile's sake, asking them to move us about! Do you have the slightest idea-”

“Would you be a dear and stop speaking in italics, please?” Pinkie interrupted with a haughty air.

“Wait. . . What? Are you quite-”

The sound of an explosion echoed from behind them, cutting Rarity off mid-sentence. Pinkie gasped, clutching her knee to her chest. “Okay, forward! Go down the slope!”

“Okay!” Rarity muttered more words under her breath, the gem at her throat radiating a comforting lavender light.

“Um. . . That's good, keep going. Take us more to the right. No no no, not our right!”

“Whose right could you possibly mean!?!”

“Oh. Oh nononononononono up! Up up up!”

“You mean straight up? Really?”

The world outside had been growing darker, but it had suddenly fallen under a deeper shadow. Pinkie Pie wilted. “Uuuuuuummmmmm, I guess I wouldn't bother.”

Princess Luna materialized just beyond the windows, swooping in looking even more haggard and singed. “Alas, despite my efforts the worm draws nigh.”

Pinkie sighed folornly. “And here I can hardly draw stick figures.”

Luna turned a quizzical look towards Rarity.

Rarity rolled her eyes. “What can we do, Princess?”

“Pinkamena!” Tension made Luna's words sharp. “Can thou shield the entirety of the Vigil at once?”

“Um. . .” Pinkie hesitated.

“Very well. Then we shall do it. Brace thyselves.”

Silence settled over everything, a match to the deepening gloom. Light fled as though terrified to stay, and the companions glanced at one another in alarm.

The world above Twilight was blotted out by a coruscation of black force. Through her dispersion shield, she could no longer see the distant stars. Another blast followed, and another, but they came no closer to finding their mark. Spike's howls of rage sounded distant, dwarfed by his utterances of magic. “Spike! Please stop!” There was no way he could have heard her, but that didn't keep her from crying out over and over again. “Please!”

He charged her, loping on all-fours, his onyx scales reflecting what little light existed in this strange moonless night. He arced towards her, his tiny claws extended, his face a rictus of childlike rage and childlike hurt, poisoned by dark emotions he could not control. In a flash of insight, she realized he had no real way to cope with those feelings. The same way she'd had no real way to cope with losing Princess Celestia. I can't. . . I can't. . . She panted.

Her hooves felt heavy as she stepped back, his claws missing her eyes by inches. Oh Celestia, “Please stop it.” Spike lunged for her again, and she stopped his swipe with a hoof. I can't do this without you. “Spike, why. . .” He screamed something incoherent as he thrust his claws forward, ordering the skirling shadows to crest above his head and fall upon her like a tidal wave. The sun's gone out. I don't know what to do anymore. . . “Please! I'm begging you!” The shadows parted around her as they collapsed. After all, they obeyed her, too.

Spike's mouth opened to reply, and an inferno of dragon fire poured out, green tongues of flame entwined with coal black. Her heart lurched brokenly as she teleported away, stumbling to her knees as she reappeared. “Don't. . .” Don't make me do this. She turned her pleading to the stars, but they had become too distant. Unreachable. Too ephemeral to guide one bereft and unworthy soul. “I can't. . .” I can't bear it.

She knew what she had to do. Even as Spike reoriented on her and launched another howling blast, she knew what her choices were. She could give up her power, her tether to the darkness, and search once again for her connection to the Elements. If they could cleanse this land, she could render Spike entirely powerless, even as she rendered herself powerless against Yami. It was a choice that likely ended in her death, and the death of everyone she loved, Spike included. It was hardly a choice at all. Or. . .

The sky-serpent approached, drawn by Spike's heedless outrage. Yet it meant nothing more than an allegory for the doom she'd failed to pull any of them out from under. Or. . . I could. . . She knew the spells. She'd studied them in a frenzy of intellectual curiosity back when she was naive enough to believe that knowledge had no power to hurt her. Oh Celestia, where did you find. . . Her grief threatened to drown her utterly.

Where did you find the courage to banish your own sister?

Now the worm blotted out the heavens, its maw gaping like a portal to blackness and oblivion. A mountain of pale flesh streaked with iridescence threatened to consume everything. Do it now! She could stop it. She had power enough to turn aside the impossible monster, and she likely had the will to do so without harming the Vigil. But not with Spike consuming her attention. Do it! If she banished him now, there might still be time. Hurry! She didn't have to die. She could still save her friends. All she had to do was finish the job. Banish the innocent soul she'd already hurt beyond all recognition and complete her betrayal.

Her heart lurched brokenly, even as Spike's next shout carved away another arcing crescent of rocky slope. She scarcely parted the destructive forces around herself in time. Lifting her horn felt like lifting a dead body as she swatted Spike gently off his feet, buying herself one clear moment. “Please forgive me.” The words fell uselessly from her lips, articulating the shattered pieces of her heart. The glow of her horn scaled upwards through layers of luminescence, until she shone like a beacon. Her body lifted into the air.

Celestia, help me.

She made her choice. The shadows fell away from her. The thick clots of midnight which had congealed beneath her coat sloughed away, repudiated by the pain and helplessness pervading her soul. She shed the Darkness like a cloak even as the weight of her despair threatened to crush her. Everyone. . . Please forgive me. She clutched her hooves to her chest as a keening wail began in her throat. I can't. Her lavender coat shook with sobs. I can't do it. I'm sorry.

Then the worm crashed itself into the bones of the world and consumed all trace of light and hope and the whole world erupted.

33: Ghosts of the Past

When the last of the light winked out, the void it left behind filled with sound. Loud? Loud is a word used to describe dropped pans and arguments. The sound of miles of rock exploding into dust and pebbles was an unbearable castrophony, and Pin Feather was only vaguely aware that he had clamped his limbs ineffectually over his ears. At least he thought he did. It wasn't even so much sound as it was a primal force that filled the infirmary until there was no room left for him. He thought the noise alone might rend him limb from limb. Every other sense was blotted out by the terrible noise. He probably tried screaming something, but by all rights he couldn't tell whether or not he actually did.

Eventually, imperceptibly, the noise began to recede to merely deafening. Pin Feather became aware of the floor pressed against his cheek, and his back was shoved painfully up against the cabinets. He shifted, dislodging several soft packs of unopened gauze he hadn't realized he'd been sprinkled with. As he lifted his head, he became aware of a weight against his face. Reaching up, he found a drawer hanging off his horn. As he lifted it carefully off his face, he became aware of just how dark it was; having a drawer over his eyes made absolutely no difference whatsoever.

With his eyes as wide as he could open them, he still caught no glimmer of light, no dim outlines, not even a suggestion of space. “Shade?” He asked aloud, although he could barely hear his own soft voice over the constant grumble of shifting stone. He tried feeling his way forward. “Shade. Are you-” His head hit the corner of the table. “Gow!” He lurched a step to the side, his hooves coming down on something feathered.

“Ah! Watch it!” Skan's voice. The shape jerked backwards.

“Sorry.” Pin Feather skipped back, catching himself on the invisible table edge as the room swayed around him. “I'm used to being able to see.”

“We're all used to being able to see, you dense hatch-stain.”

“Surely what he means,” Sun Shade's disembodied voice dripped scorn through the darkness. “Is that he is accustomed to being able to see in the dark, as we cannot.”

Pin Feather released a tense breath. “Well yeah, technically. I can see well only in extremely low light, as the multifaceted lenses in my eye can detect trace wavelengths. . .”

“And now I regret speaking in your defense.” Sun Shade added laconically.

“At least I know we're not dead.” Skan growled. “The afterlife can't possibly be the two of you bickering for all eternity. Sky? Sky, where are ya?”

“I'm right here.” Clear Sky spoke. “What in Celestia's name is happening?”

“Oh, that's right. . .” Sun Shade breathed. “You all were below decks when we crashed, weren't you? You hadn't seen the, uh. . .”

Pin Feather jumped in. “If it's all the same to you, Shade, I'm trying really hard not to think about the big picture right now.”

“Why?” Clear Sky sounded worried, but not nearly as worried as he could have been. “What's happening?” Nobody answered him.

“Gimmie a sec.” Pin Feather focused for a moment, and a soft green glow began to emanate from the gnarled horn on his forehead. “There we go. I haven't practiced this spell in ages.”

The light fell upon six blinking eyes and the supplies that had been emptied over their heads. They appeared spectral in the light, ghosts of who they once were. Shade pulled herself carefully to her hooves and said, “Green, Pin Feather? Could you possibly try a different color, maybe one less dreadfully stereotypical?”

He wondered if maybe he should have been offended. Thistle would have known. “Uh, no? It's just the one color.”

“Pity.” Sun Shade helped the others to their feet. “How's our charge?”

He'd already turned his horn towards the bed, sweeping it gently back and forth over the earth pony. He plucked a few odd bandages and a pair of steel instruments off of her, but the IV remained attached and dripped steadily. Her heart continued to beat. “Green across the board, Captain.” He quipped in his relief. A microsecond later his stomach dropped into his hooves, and he spun back towards Sun Shade in dismay.

Pain crawled across her face as she squeezed her eyes shut, the pale green light making her soft features look ill. Pin Feather grimaced. “Shade, I'm. . .”

She swallowed hard, mastering herself with a breath. “It's okay. I'm. . . he's gone.”

“It's not okay.” Pin Feather buzzed, his shoulders slumping. “None of anything is okay. Literally nothing is okay.”

“Ain't that the honest truth.” A voice mumbled. Pin Feather glanced through every face in the room before spinning back to the bed. Applejack blinked blearily in the dim glow.

“AJ, hey, how're ya feeling?” He asked solicitously. “No no no, don't get up.” A gentle limb on her good shoulder pinned Applejack down.

“Ugh.” She acquiesced with a low groan. “Anypony catch the license plate on that bag of tractors?”

“Oh, here, your metaphors are all messed up. Let me get you something for the pain.” Pin Feather reached up and began rummaging through a high cabinet. “Drat. It's all tossed around in here. . . hmmmmm.” He came back down with a syringe. He popped the plastic tip off with a practiced motion and leaned in. Until an orange-coated hoof stopped him.

Applejack's emerald eyes struggled into focus as she blinked. “Wait, who in the blazes let you free, bug-eyes?” She muttered, incredulous.

Sun Shade appeared at her side. “That was my decision, I'm afraid. Keeping our best medic under lock and key seemed trifling and petty, considering the circumstances.”

“Well,” Applejack eyed the changeling carefully. “It's about time somepony started makin' sense around here.” The corners of her mouth turned up the tiniest bit. “Welcome back, uh. . .”

“Just call me Pin Feather. Honestly, it's kinda what I'm used to.”

“Fair enough.” She nodded slowly and immediately stopped, her eye twitching in pain.

“Okay. . .” He indicated the syringe with a tilt of his horn. “Now, if you trust me. . .”

“No.” Applejack grimaced. “Ah mean yes. Mmmmffff, just don't want none o' that stuff.” She mumbled. “Gotta get back out there. . .”

“You should stay abed.” Sun Shade implored. “You've lost a great deal of blood. Really, you've made quite the mess of the flooring below decks.”

Applejack's ears twitched, swiveling towards the sound of crushing rocks just beyond the tiny, reinforced window. “Now, ah don't pretend ta know exactly what's goin' on out there. But it sounds like y'all could use a hoof.”

“Nonsense, dear.” Sun Shade bluffed. “We've got everything sorted. The secret is soda water. You mix it with vinegar, and poof, tricky bloodstains come right out.”

“Y'all know that ain't what I meant.”

Pin Feather nodded along. “You know that isn't what she meant.”

Shade threw him a scathing glare. “Yet she ought to stay in bed, correct?” She gritted through her teeth.

“I get the feelin' y'all just saved my hide, and I'm mighty grateful, make no mistake.” Applejack's eyes wandered blearily from face to face. “But y'all can either help me get to my friends, or y'all can get yer collective keisters outta my way.”

Twilight almost found herself someplace she deserved entirely. She felt she scarcely merited the space she afforded herself to breathe. The absence of any speck or shred of light was especially condign. Certainly she chose to shed no light with her small shield because she feared discovery. Yet, she also deserved darkness. It was as much the fruit of her failures as the dust she choked on, the tears she shed.

Stones ranging from tiny pebbles to massive boulders slid over one another past her shield, their solid weight shifting constantly against her mind, yet all she could see were phosphorescent flashes as insubstantial as wisps. The afterimages of stars were poor company; they did nothing to distract her from her memories. There were so many things she should never have done she could hardly recollect them all.

Spike had most assuredly survived. The Darkness would not have let him die so easily. In fact, Twilight could still feel his outbursts of magic like faint echoes of scoria across her horn, even through goddess-knows how much intervening rock. He was still lost in darkness and rage, still searching for her. Yet he was further away from her than anyone. She would have gladly dropped her defenses and allowed him to attack her as he wished, if only she could bear to look him in the eyes.

In grief and sorrow, she tried again to reunite the Elements. Twilight carefully opened her senses, searching for the connection between her and her friends. A faint glow began at the tip of her horn, coalescing into the shape of a star. She kept the light as dim as she could manage, but it didn't keep the stones surrounding her from leaping out of the gloom like ghouls. A hint of claustrophobia tightened across her chest as the light from her horn reflected back into her eyes from a shifting prison of fractured igneous rocks.

Nothing. Hollowness and emptiness. Twilight had no way of knowing whether she had lost too much of her soul subsumed in the Darkness to connect with the Elements, or if one of her friends were dead.

A lambent flash caught her in the eye, a reflection bright enough to make her wince. Through the constant movement she glimpsed a facet like a gem trapped in the stone. Without thinking, Twilight grabbed the traveling rock in her telekinetic field and drew it carefully through her shield until it rested in her trembling lavender hooves.

She scarcely had to try. Chunks of the stone practically flaked away at her touch, revealing a diamond as large as her hoof embedded in the rock. It was almost flawless, and the meager light from her horn refracted the light again and again. Obliquely, it spun her thoughts towards the Carousel Boutique, towards Ponyville. Towards Spike. Towards home. A poignant longing threatened to break her heart.

She let the light die, leaving nothing but the ghosts of stars dancing across her vision once again. Twilight had spurned the Darkness, and the Elements had failed. So she clutched the gem to her chest and waited. She didn't know what else to do.

“All things considered.” Rarity's cultured voice drifted through the gloom. “Circumstances could be worse.”

“Could be worse?!?” Pinkie Pie shouted. “HOW could things be worse!? We've just been nommed by a great big, super-duper hugenormous crazy-paisley THINGY-THING!!!” A soft thump followed Pinkie's voice relocating to ground level. “Next it'll probably digest us and poop us out the end.” She added miserably.

“Well. For one thing, we're still alive, aren't we?”

From the sound of it, Pinkie's face was mushed into the floor. “Yeah. . .”

“And, hmmm.” Rarity pondered for a moment. “We could all have a terrible case of the pony pox. That would certainly be worse.”

“Hey, you're right.” Pinkie sproinged back to her hooves. “Things could be worse!” She inhaled a couple of times through her nose. “Wait, am I starting to come down with sniffles?” Another long, nasally sniff was followed by a dainty sneeze. “I'M FEELING SNIFFLY!!!”

“It's only dust, Pinkie.” Rarity drifted towards the soft glow of Luna's horn, the only light left in the whole world, or so it seemed. “What do we do now?” She asked softly.

The Princess's voice was taut with frustration and strain. “We know not. Yet together we have purchased ourselves an opportunity for ingenious counters.”

“Ingenious?” Sun Shade's lantern cast back the gloom, illuminating the Vigil's inert controls and the blinking, owlish faces surrounding them. “Thank goodness we're here, then.”

“That's our umbrella-butt; modest to the core.” Pin Feather rolled his eyes. The effect was entirely lost, however, since he had no discernible pupils.

After a glance at the changeling, Rarity let loose a shrill screech, as though she'd seen a mouse or a bat or a plaid tie over a yellow jumpsuit. That is, until Pinkie clamped a hoof over the unicorn's mouth, muffling her. “That wasn't very nice.” Pinkie Pie admonished. “You say, 'It's nice to see you, changeling imposter. What's your real name?' Something like that.”

“Just call'em Pins, for cider's sake.” Applejack slid herself off of Skan's back and promptly collapsed onto the floor. Sky rushed to her side as she struggled to get up, supporting her weight. Pinkie Pie appeared at her other side, suffused with concern.

“My dear!” Rarity gasped. “Whatever happened to you?!”

Applejack's muscles shook visibly. “It was mostly just a scratch. . .”

“She died.” Skan grumbled. “Her heart stopped and everything.”

“Gah!” Rarity clutched her mane. “Are you alright?”

Sun Shade nudged the changeling with a hoof. “Our Pin Feather here saved her life. 'Twas absolutely amazing.”

Pin Feather ducked his head. “Amazing only because it worked.”

Luna nodded and smiled in recognition. “Well done, medic.”

Rarity composed herself with a prim sigh. “Well. It seems I owe you an apology, 'Pins.' But you do understand you look like a, well. . .”

“Evil bug monster. Yeah, I get it.”

“I think you look super neat!” Pinkie poked at one of his fangs until he twitched away, then she began tapping his shoulder, producing a hollow sound with his carapace. She giggled.

“What about the Elements?” Sun Shade glanced between Rarity and Applejack. “Is there any way we can contact Twilight from, ah. . . From in here?”

“From in where?” A note of alarm crept into Clear Sky's soft voice. “Where are we? Why wont anypony just tell us what's going on?”

“Oh, uh. . . oh my. . .” Rarity gestured vaguely around her. “It's difficult to, ah. . .”

Pinkie leaped to reply, “It's soooooo crazy you wont believe it! But mmmfmff!”

Rarity hushed her with a hoof. “Actually, it's best not to worry overmuch, darling.” Rarity offered a charming smile. Pinkie scowled.

Luna spoke over them, aiming her words toward Sun Shade. “The Elements may yet suffice to save this ship, and all of us. We are shielding the Vigil from harm whilst gentle Rarity prevents the river of stone from overtaking us on its journey. However, we fear for Twilight. We believe she is in grave danger. Where are Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash? Hast thou seen them belowdecks?”

“Oh, uh. . .” Skan exchanged worried glances with Sky. “Well, the thing is. . .”

“Wait!” Rarity held up a hoof. “Does anypony else hear that?” Her question was met with puzzled expressions and raised eyebrows. “Oh, of course not. Silly me. One moment, if you all please.” With that she trotted confidently to the edge of the light, peering into the inky blackness beyond the smashed windows, muttering under her breath the whole way. The constant grinding sound of rocks sliding about one another took on a hushed cadence, as though a few of them stopped moving to listen.

“And this is something we should understand?” Sky slumped to the floor in defeat.

Skan had taken Applejack's weight again, so he muttered to her as much as Sky. “I'm as lost as you are, mate.”

Kelbrri had been perched silently by the main airship controls, waiting for some glimmer of power to make them useful again. Shifting her multicolored wings, she hesitantly asked. “Where's Cloud? Is she making repairs?”

The question seemed to take Sun Shade by surprise. “Yes. She stayed below in case she found the opportunity to run diagnostics on the engine. Perhaps some of us,” Here she pointed her muzzle at Skan and Sky. “Could see if she needs assistance?”

“Oh no.” Skan shook his head for both of them. “Don't send us away now.”

“And if I phrased it as an order?”

“Oh, come on. . .” Skan gestured around the room. “Can we stay? Every time I leave this room, I fall behind.”

Rarity interrupted Shade's scathing response. “I do believe I've found her!” She practically pranced backwards from the windows, followed by a large ball of rocks. The sphere rolled into the center of the room and collapsed, revealing a haggard, dust-covered, mournful Twilight. She shrugged stones and dirt off her lavender shoulders as she peered through her tears at the faces around her, blinking startled eyes.

Pinkie pounced immediately, throwing a hug around the purple unicorn. Twilight returned it with vigor. Rarity approached from the other side and offered her own hug, heedless of the grit and grime.

Princess Luna's voice resonated with awe. “Twilight Sparkle. . . Thou hast divested thyself of all thine fell powers unaided. Twice now.” Her smile brightened her face. “Our faith in thee is vindicated!”

“Please.” Twilight fought her way out of Pinkie's copious mane. “Please Princess, you have to help him.” Her voice strained on the edge of tears. “I've. . . I. . . T-the Darkness has him, has got him all twisted up. He was making these horrible accusations, and I. . . I just made it so much worse. I made it worse and now,” She sniffed. “Now he just wants to hurt me, to get me back.” She wiped a fetlock across her nose, looking like an upset foal. “I can't reach him a-anymore.”

“Twilight, take heed. Young Spike would find no adequate defense against the Elements of Harmony. Bringing them to bear could very well cleanse this darkness from his soul. As it cleansed mine.”

“Spike?” Applejack glanced between the two of them. “Our Spike?” But neither of them answered her.

“You don't understand!” She pushed away from her friends. “I can't! I can't find it anymore! I t-tried! I tried finding you all. . . And it didn't work! It, it didn't-” She curled into herself, shuddering. The diamond fell from her hooves, clinking to the floor.

Luna's eyes tracked the gem, then dismissed it as she placed a comforting hoof on Twilight's shoulder. “Thou art beset and troubled, 'tis certain. Yet thy spirit remains whole. We believe in thee. Please, make another attempt. 'Twill not be in vain.”

The whole bridge seemed to hold its breath as Twilight Sparkle fought down her tremors, wiped her eyes and steadied her breathing. A fragile hope settled into her gaze as she nodded, bolstered by Luna's support. When she closed her eyes, for a moment she actually appeared calm. A violet glow appeared at the tip of her horn, small and precious like the birth of a star. Luna's eyes shone. Pin Feather smiled, and he nudged Sun Shade gently. Kelbrri nodded, some of the strain easing out of her face.

The hope slowly building throughout the room died with Pinkie Pie's voice. “It's not working.” She said with finality. Twilight's glow winked out, and her resolve crumbled into itself.

“Hmmm.” Rarity pondered with a hoof to her chin. “Just where are our pegasi?”

“It shouldn't matter.” Pinkie chirruped. “If they're nearby, we should all be connected. Right Twilight?”

Applejack glared suspiciously out from under her disheveled mane at the black gryphon holding her up. “Hey. Y'all know something, don'tcha?”

Skan scratched his crest. “Uh, that's what we've been trying to say. They were with us, helping pull Applejack here out of storage. The floor had been damaged, you see, a great spar of. . .”

“The shadows took them.” Clear Sky's voice was made somehow mournful by its lack of inflection. His eyes were deep pools of sorrow in the lantern's light. “We haven't seen them since. I'm sorry.”

Dismay choked the companions into silence. Twilight's gaze tracked hopelessly into the distance. Rarity gasped.

Pinkie turned to Princess Luna, an obsidian sculpture in the dark. “So what do we do now? Can we find them?”

Luna hesitated, shaking her head. “We. . . We kno-” She flung backwards from the clustered group as though struck hard in the chest. At the same moment a muffled explosion rattled the ship.

“Luna!” Twilight whirled towards the alicorn, hooves outstretched.

But Luna caught herself before she hit the wall, her snarl a slash across her features. “We are beset! Something attacked our shield!”

“Spike. . .” Twilight whispered.

“Our Spike?” Applejack tried to stamp a hoof and nearly fell over. “Would somepony start explainin' something please!”

Rarity appeared chagrined, glancing up through her mane. “When we crashed, he must have fallen from a window. It was my fault.”

“Rarity wait,” If anything, Twilight looked even more guilty than Rarity. “I'm sorry I-”

Rarity cut her off with a quick head-shake. “Another time, dear.” Her tone bespoke forgiveness, though.

“His strength exceeds ours, yet he knows naught concerning its use.” The glow from Luna's horn brightened. “We shall attempt to reason with him.” Then she vanished in a flash of light.

“She wants to talk him down?” Shade said. “Is that going to work?”

Twilight's eyes struggled back into focus. “He hasn't hit us again. I think maybe its already working.” She wilted further. “I don't think he wants to hurt anypony else but me.”

“Spike's the danger? Huh.” Applejack lifted a trembling hoof, pointing at the discarded diamond. “Don't he enjoy. . .”

“Ah-ha!” Pinkie Pie swooped in and scooped the gem up, holding it aloft. “He loves these things! Rarity, can you find more?”

“Of course I can!” Rarity trumpeted. “That's the first reasonable request I've received during this awful little vacation.” The jewel at her throat lit with a gentle light as she trotted towards the window again. “What an inspired idea.” She mused to herself.

“Even if Princess Luna can sweet-talk an angry Spike, we still have the whole 'Escape the Giant Beasty Before We're All Digested' and the 'Find Dash and Fluttershy' missions to complete.” Pinkie noted, sitting thoughtfully.

“Digested?” Skan asked, his head and eartufts drooping as though he lacked the energy to feel truly alarmed. “Digested?”

“Don't worry!” Pinkie bounced her mane side to side. “Things could totally be worse!” A deluge of gems buried the pink pony, hiding her beneath a mound of precious stones dropped from Rarity's telekinetic field.

Twilight nodded. “Luna's on the flight deck. I'll get these to her.” A purple field of magic enveloped the gems. “Please let this work. . .” Twilight breathed as she cast her spell, the crystals vanishing into thin air, leaving behind a startled-looking Pinkie Pie.

The moment her spell was cast another detonation rocked the floor beneath them, nearly tumbling Rarity out into darkness. Twilight caught her tail with her magic and dragged her back inside. Luna's Canterlot voice trumpeted from somewhere above. “STILL THYSELF!!”

“I don't believe its working!” Sun Shade shouted, alarm lacing her voice.

It was the proximity of her friends that did it. Seeing the fear in her friends' eyes, it galvanized Twilight, hardening her fractured resolve. She found herself setting aside her fear, her shame, her failures. She gathered up the pieces of herself with an effort of will. “He's looking for me.” It was strange how much the words felt like saying goodbye. “I'll go.”

“Uh, I thought the point was ta make him feel less upset, right?” Applejack asked hesitantly. “Unless I'm missin' something here.”

Twilight was not wondering whether she could defend herself against Spike's outbursts. She was wondering seriously whether or not she would. “He's my responsibility.” Maybe she had never treated him right. “I have to try. I have to ask for his forgiveness.” Then, in a flash of light, she vanished too.

“Um,” Pinkie's voice suddenly sounded small and forlorn. “What if Dash and Fluttershy. . . What if they gave in to the ickyness too? What'll we do then?”

Applejack grimaced. “I dunno. Shy's got a way of wrangling this stuff down. If Dash is with her, I don't think they'll give in without a fight.” She gulped audibly. “I think.”

“Oh!” Rarity's gasp accompanied a faint, irregular buzzing that emanated from the tip of her horn. “Oh my, that really tickl. . . Hello? Why yes, but I- well. . . certainl. . . Yes your Highness, I can. . .” The buzzing cut off as quickly as it had begun. “Well I never.” The unicorn sounded both annoyed and breathless. She clamped a hoof protectively over her horn. “That was most intrusive.”

Sun Shade appeared absolutely awash with astonishment. “Did Princess Luna just speak into your mind?” Possibilities flickered through her eyes. “How marvelous. . .”

“Hold on everypony, I must try to concentrate if I'm going to stop this flow of rocks beneath us.” Rarity splayed her hooves. “Luna says she has a plan.”

A blurred line of what might have been gemstones appeared beyond the bay windows and just as swiftly dipped out of sight. Sun Shade's astonishment curdled back into alarm. “Does this plan involve. . . oh, I don't know, sawing a hole through the bottom of this creature with enchanted gemstones and dropping our fragile and might I say it rather worn airship from Goddess-knows how high up alongside what might be several tons of free-falling boulders?”

“THAT'S not what the gems were for!” Pinkie scowled.

Rarity smirked. “I did suggest holding on to something.”

Twilight appeared on the deck of the Vigil, the wood pocked, scarred, but essentially whole beneath her hooves. Luna's light shone bright like a beacon, but it failed to reach the far walls of the worm's gullet. There was a thick rank in the air, a smell of sour dirt that stung her nose, making it run. She was certain the air was far from breathable beyond the reach of Luna's spherical shield. Where the deck of the airship ended, the light fell upon a landscape of stone flowing like a river towards some unspeakable end. The sound of grinding and crushing filled her ears.

Yet what truly held her attention was the hovering line of gems, a perfect lateral ring of precious stones spinning in Luna's telekinetic grip just beyond the rail. As she watched, the ring of stones became a blur, dipping below her sight. Luna was. . .

On the cusp of understanding, a guttural snarl from behind froze the blood in her veins and shattered her train of thought. A sound at once so alien and so familiar it twisted her stomach into knots. Twilight turned slowly, both knowing and dreading what she would find.

Princess Luna stood her ground only a couple of paces away, her horn an incandescent flare of sizzling magic. Her eyes, however, were staring down the whelpling standing before her. It was Spike. Of course it was Spike. But he looked different somehow, beyond the ebony scales and the blackness that steamed and boiled through his eye sockets. He looked leaner, maybe a little taller. Luna had been staring down a feral spectre of the dragon Twilight had known. Now he appeared coiled and dangerous. The baby dragon had forgotten Luna, his empty eyes fixed upon Twilight.

Something in Twilight eased a fraction. He appeared more dangerous than before, more savage, but it was becoming clearer to her; this was the Darkness calling the shots. The Darkness was possessing him. Maybe, as an inherently magical being, he was more susceptible to its influence. More likely he was just too young to defend himself. But seeing this, Twilight felt less stricken by his accusations even as she felt her own guilt sharpen. Fueled by hatred and venom or not, she should never have struck him. It was wrong. And it was time to own up to her mistakes.

Twilight took her first step, bridging the distance between them. “Spike, I. . .”

He cocked back a fist to hurl power at her. “SPIKE!” Luna's Canterlot voice cut through his rage, imposing thought over instinct. “DESIST! THOU HAS NO TRUE WISH TO HARM ANY OF THY FRIENDS.”

It bought her an opening and, defenseless, she stepped forward into it. “Spike, I'm sorry.” She kept her voice soft and steady, her confidence and sincerity growing stronger as she spoke. “I know I've made tons of mistakes. Sometimes I let myself get caught up in school or friends, and I've left you behind. Or I've left you out. You wanted to help, you always did. You took pride in being my number one assistant, and I know that wasn't a lie.” He snarled at her again, but he did not attack as she approached. “But I let it go too far. Even when I tried not to take you for granted, I think maybe I did anyway. I'm so sorry for that.”

Twilight hoped fervently that she sounded something like Pinkie did back when she was consoling Fluttershy with memories of home. She'd closed half the distance already with her measured strides. Luna looked as though she was ready to leap to her defense at a moment's notice, but Twilight had no attention to spare for the alicorn. If she failed to talk Spike out of his emotional prison, well, she didn't really have a plan B. “Maybe some other pony would have made a better parent than I was to you. I've thought about that a lot recently. I've always loved you, though. Deep down you know that. If I've ever wanted you to stay behind, it's only because I couldn't stand you being hurt, or being in danger. Spike, please forgive me. I never meant to hurt you.”

She stopped, having come nearly nose-to-nose with the angry creature before her. He still had one little fist drawn back, poised as though some part of him still wished to strike her. Confusion and pain flickered across his features, making him tremble, making him hesitate. Twilight sat, imploring from under her bangs at the one creature she cared about more than any other in the whole world. “Spike, please. I know you're in there somewhere. I know what you're going through. The anger, the rage, it all feels so justified when you're in pain. But this isn’t you.” She kept her hooves to herself, though. “This isn’t you, Spike. Please come back.”

Maybe a tiny part of her was still afraid. Maybe, just maybe, a simple hug might have reached through the mire of dark energy and through his turmoil. Maybe, in that moment, she could have touched him at his core, brought him back to himself. She had found the best opening she could have possibly hoped for. One little space of vulnerability, and the final wall between them should have toppled at a touch. But she didn't move. She hesitated. She'd hoped that words alone would be enough to reach him.

She saw the moment pass. She watched as the Darkness reasserted itself, coiling and tightening around his soul. His features settled, and they settled back into rage. She'd had her moment, she'd had her chance. Through the space of one heartbeat, one blink, she'd lost him. His feet left the deck of the airship as he launched himself at her face, claws and teeth bared. Twilight had no spells ready, no defenses. She didn't even try to move. She simply blinked her eyes shut, the world replaced with the darkness behind her eyelids as the creature she still cared for closed the distance between them.

Claws raked her scalp, tore through her mane as Spike overshot, arcing above her. She felt weightless, giddy with her own proximity to death. For a brief moment despair had locked her joints and deadened her muscles, rendered her lifeless as a corpse before the blow had even been struck. She'd had no part in saving her own life, whatever had spared her, and her heart lurched with the realization.

Or maybe her stomach flew up into her throat because she was actually falling. The deck of the Vigil gently left her hooves as yards of cut stone rushed upwards all around Luna's shield. Between the rocks seeped a vile substance, thick and green. As Twilight lost touch with the wood entirely, the acres of stone gave way to pale flesh, the void above the falling shield filling with tumbling rocks and gastric effluvium. Spike roared in frustration as he drifted higher, further from his target.

Then they were falling through open air, the massive body of the worm eeling through the night sky. The ground was distant, but the airship was gaining speed as it tipped towards the shadowed landscape. She ached to reach her magic towards the Vigil. Her friends were in danger, their way home was in danger, and deep within Twilight's chest rested the ageless core of power that had once belonged to Celestia. She may have had the power to save them, to slow their fall somehow, if she could just think of the right spell.

But she let it go. She let them all slip from her mind. She wasn't abandoning her friends; she trusted that Luna could save them. She and Luna had the same core of power to draw from, and the Princess simply had far more knowledge and experience than she did. She trusted they would be alright, somehow. Instead, she kept her eyes locked on Spike. She was not going to lose him again.

He was falling faster now, angling himself back towards her with his scaly arms at his sides. Twilight rolled onto her back, fighting to position herself underneath him. The howling wind of her plummet was ominous, as though it promised death. Above her, dragonfire poured out of Spike's jaws, rippling backwards through the air until he looked like a falling green comet. Twilight tried not to twitch while the ends of her mane and tail singed away as they streamed above her. Her next breath parched her throat on the inhale, and she squinted her dry eyes against the heat. She tucked her legs in against herself in an effort to protect her body.

Spike paused to draw breath and Twilight snapped her limbs open, slowing her fall while the dwindling flames still obscured his sight and Spike collided with her ribs and Twilight wrapped her arms around him with as much strength as she could muster. He struggled in her grasp.

“Spike, please stop it!”

Claws raked at her belly, leaving searing trails of pain in their wake.

“Listen to me!”

Fangs sank deep into her fetlock.

“I love you!”

The frantic writhing stilled, the vice of his jaws easing a fraction.

“I love you, Spike.”

Now the howl of wind felt just like silence. The crazed thumping of Spike's heartbeat began to slow.

“Please come back.”

Tiny droplets of blood ran in backwards rivulets and fell upwards, joining the stars in hovering above them.

“This isn't you.”

The scaled body twitched in her grasp and the fangs pulled out of her limb, leaving a sharp, throbbing pain behind. She heard him gasp in realization and he started to hyperventilate.

“It's okay. I understand. It's okay.”

She spoke soothing words as they fell, not even caring what she said. Only caring that he was there, mentally present once again. He hadn't been lost. Not entirely. And as she held him in her arms she felt a door within her open. She felt them, she felt the Elements, and they were all within her reach again. And she knew where they were most needed. Twilight cradled the whelpling like a foal as rainbow light surrounded them both, blocking the cruel world from sight for a time.

For a time, at least.

The air stilled as the moon rose. A hush settled gently over the world. The nearby clouds ceased their electric mutterings. Even the stars in their stately dance through the cosmos seemed to pause for a moment to observe the drop of rainbow color suspended between the oil-black bowl of the crater and the spangled darkness of the sky. And when the drop of color fell gently to the ground it splashed, ripples spreading outward in every direction.

Colors arced and fell, dispelling shadows in cascades of vibrant, tangible light. Darkness like cold flames fractured, evaporating into tufts like evanescent fog. Tint and hue swirled upon one another in a panoplic display of beauty, rushing outward in a waterfall of health. Where the ripples of magic passed, bare stone gleamed naked in the starlight, stunned and fresh and oddly beautiful. Pale, lost creatures stilled their tortured movements while rainbow colors washed over them, as though reminded for a moment of the lives they'd once had. Then they too rolled into mist, freed from their tortured existences.

The ring continued to expand, colors twining through colors, cleansing the taint of darkness as it spread. Even the air became fresher, cleaner, crisp with the coolness of night. The kind of air reserved for the sweetest, budding days of Spring. It tasted like renewal and possibilities. And the power of the Elements didn't stop. It poured across the crater, up the unfathomable rim, cleansing the blight for as far as the eye could see. Eventually, the world stood stark beneath the gaze of the moon, bare as creation.

Very little impinged upon Twilight's awareness. As the collective might of the Elements completed their task, she felt the power slipping away from her again, leaving behind a deep fatigue that pulled hard on her eyelids. She felt her eyes and her horn lose the platinum glow pervading them. She felt her friends cluster tiredly around her, and she heard Rainbow Dash's voice crack as her friend called out a playful challenge to the surrounding landscape, daring the shadows to return. As her closest friends began to talk amongst themselves, Twilight picked out Fluttershy's melodic voice. They were safe.

She was glad her friends were okay. She was. More glad than she could say. And somewhere behind them the Aether's Vigil rested once more on its hull, the remains of Luna's various spells still dissipating into the night air. In the distance beyond them thrashed the giant worm, far enough away that the tremors from its flicking tail could scarcely be felt through Twilight's hooves. It could no longer get off the ground, and it didn't seem to understand that fact. But those things were so far beyond Twilight's concern that they hardly registered.

Her world had narrowed to two small facts. The most important of which was that Spike was alive and well and in her arms. His purple scales rose and fell as he breathed. He tried to meet her eyes and couldn't, his face contorting in guilt. Twilight just held him tighter. She wasn't certain what she should say, and she knew it wouldn't make much of a difference anyhow. She was just filled from tail to mane with gratitude, thankful that he'd been brought back to her.

Never mind the second small fact; that Yami was still out there somewhere and they no longer stood a chance against it. It was all over. Her and her friends simply hadn't faced that truth yet. And Twilight held tight to Spike, desperate to put off that second fact for as long as she could.

She nuzzled him gently, his soft green spines comforting against her chin. Rarity's voice was almost directly in her ear. “And where in Equestria have you two been, hmmmm?” She sounded almost as weary as Twilight felt.

“Oh!” Dash's voice still had some energy behind it. “Sky was trying to take a nose-dive into the curse, but I totally saved him! But then I got stuck under a lousy fridge and Fluttershy had to come rescue me. Then we were in this dream Cloudsdale that wasn't always Cloudsdale and. . . I don't really remember all that well. It's kinda fuzzy in my mind, the way dreams get. Except that Fluttershy kicked some mega-gross rabbit butt! I remember that part!”

“Sounds. . . fascinatin'.” Applejack conceded.

“I'm worried about what happened out here.” Fluttershy admonished. “Twilight was hurt and Applejack. . . and Spike? How did everything go wrong all at once?” A pair of sun-colored hooves wrapped around Twilight to comfort the bundle of scales in her arms. “Poor Spike. . .” Twilight smiled her thanks without taking her eyes off her number one assistant.

“Oh yeah,” Pinkie's tired smile warmed her voice. “Rarity talked to rocks and Nightmare Twilight was all 'kerchoom' and Luna was all 'Thee and thou doth such and such' and then we were all eaten.” She sighed from the tips of her hooves. “It's been a really weird day all around. Hey, is it coming back towards us? It looks like its coming back towards us.”

Only then did Twilight glance up. Not more of this. Please, I can't take any more right now. But she steeled herself with a sigh. The giant worm slithered towards them along the ground, kicking up breakers of stone as it approached. It appeared to be moving slowly, as though it was hurt, but its sheer size made it unreasonably swift. The moonlight scattered across its white hide, emphasizing the almost metallic spectrum of colors fraught like runnels beneath its skin. It was beautiful as it swept towards the airship between them, inexorable as an avalanche.

“I reckon we oughtta do something, girls, and put this thing out of a world-eatin' job for good.”

“I like how I can always tell its you talking AJ, because you're the only pony I know who says 'reckon.'”

“That and the sound of my voice, right Pinkie?”

A giggle. “Eeeeyup.”

Twilight was on the verge of setting Spike down. She'd even given him one last, gentle squeeze. Yet before she could do so a wall of flames burst into life, loops of flame painted broadly through the air through a core that burned like the sun. The dark of night scattered before the display of magic, and Twilight gasped. She hadn't known Luna was capable of manipulating solar energy like that, especially at night. Though they felt no heat where they sat, the cluster of friends all marveled as the titanic worm stopped in its charge, rearing back in obvious pain.

Princess Luna appeared on the deck of the Vigil, and across the distance Twilight could clearly see gemstones gathering, swirling in various rings and orbits around her horn. As the flames began to die down, massive green vines lashed up out of the clean ground, binding and ensnaring the worm's whiskers and maw. At the same time, a thick mist coalesced out of the air and the worm's movements slowed, its thrashings hampered somehow.

“I don't know, it looks like the Princess has this under control.” Fluttershy breathed.

Twilight didn't buy it for one second. The Princess, by herself, didn't have that kind of power. But Twilight didn't want to contradict her friend out loud, so she just nodded. She tried to scan the horizon, expecting a figure to emerge, but she was entranced by the way Luna seemed to be assembling the gems she'd discovered into a massive sword, as long as the airship, held together with ephemeral moonlight. It glowed, long and deadly, as Luna took to the wing.

“Woah. . .” Dash's wings spread in awe. “Luna's been holding out on us.”

As the Princess took to cutting the worm open, Twilight looked away. Finally she could sit out for a round or two. She found Spike, his eyes wide and reflecting the full moon as he watched Luna work, cringing and gasping with all of her friends. His movements had become childlike once again. If not innocent exactly, then maybe filled with the capacity for wonder once more. It was enough. She couldn't bring herself to look away.

It was long minutes before the fighting was done. “Oh, now that's just. . . wrong.” Fluttershy accused.

“This will do marvelous things for my figure, as I wont be eating ever again.” Rarity observed.

Applejack reached again for her missing hat. “I'm just hoping the smell drifts somewheres else. I ain't lookin' forward to losing my apples out here.”

“Keep an eye out, girls.” Twilight spoke without looking up. “I think someone's coming.”

“More bad guys?” Dash asked only semi-hopefully.

Twilight shook her head no. “I don't think so.”

“Should we throw them a party?” Pinkie asked, her tone laced with the wistful sadness of a pony who knew that the nearest party supply store was thousands of miles away.

“Oh!” Fluttershy brightened. “Oh Twilight, do you think its. . .”

“A wolf?” Dash asked, incredulous. “Here?”

“A friend, I think.” Twilight smiled before she looked up, her eyes drawn to a white speck glinting in the moonlight. It was between them and the rim, closer maybe to the airship, but it flowed with deceptive alacrity over the bare rocks. A wolf raced towards them, its sinewy form both lean and powerful. Its efforts appeared entirely unconscious, as though it moved not just swiftly, but effortlessly. It's coat gleamed like untrammeled snow, and as it ran small clumps of grass sprang up like exclamations of health with every step, accompanied by the occasional bobbing, startled wildflower.

It's beauty stole her breath away, left her heart feeling thick with wonder and humility. Here was a creature who would never entreat with the Darkness. Here was a creature who had, presumably, given its life fighting that Darkness an age ago, back when the world was a different place altogether. It moved like poetry, and it made Twilight feel like she was dreaming, despite being wide awake.

“Oh!” Pinkie began pronking in place, even if she was tired enough that she didn't make it far off the ground. “It's the wolf from Celestia's story!”

“It's, ah. . . It's friendly, you say?” Applejack edged closer to her friends.

“My goodness!” Fluttershy broke into a hover. “I've never met anything like it before! I'm so excited!”

And then it was slowing its pace to something a little less threatening. From a sprint to a three-beat canter, then a light jog. Then the wolf sat before them, its wide eyes alert and friendly. When it, No, she. When she sat, she was a head taller than any of the ponies. Vivid crimson designs zigged and zagged through her fur, underlining her eyes, emphasizing her eldritch beauty. Tufts of fur like the whitest sendaline evoked soft clouds where they gathered at her shoulders and tail, and her long tail tapered into inky-black strands, like a paintbrush. Her ears perked, and her mouth lolled into an open grin, as though meeting friends for the first time. But the wolf said nothing.

Fluttershy could hardly contain her glee. Only the daunting and stately presence the wolf managed to project kept her from squealing in outright joy. What surprised Twilight more was a tiny mewl of excitement from Rarity. The unicorn was practically prancing with exhilaration. Applejack leaned towards her. “I take it yer 'fashion sense' is tingling?” She drawled.

Rarity restrained herself to a pair of tiny, delighted nods.

Twilight felt its presence, felt its warm power even from where she sat. it was intimidating, despite being overtly friendly. She should have said something, she should have introduced herself, introduced them all. . . yet she couldn't. She felt overwhelmed, and dwarfed, and far too small to be addressing something that was probably old when Celestia was born. They were in the presence of something which, in a different era of their civilization, they might have worshiped. Likely for good reason.

So of course Pinkie felt no such reservation. “Hi! I'm Pinkie Pie! That's two p's, two e's and three i's! Not that you'd be writing that down with paws, huh? Say, can you write with your mouth? I can! Wanna see? I've got crayons here somewhere. . .”

“Pinkie,” Rarity laughed, and it was a clean sound. “Really? Must you really?”

“What?” Pinkie's ears fell, and she sounded genuinely taken aback. “I was just curiou-WOAH! Let go of me!” Sure enough, the wolf had her fluffy tail in its mouth, and it was shaking its head playfully. “That is not a chew toy!”

“Ohmigosh that's so cute!” Fluttershy's voice scaled into high registers Twilight wasn't certain she'd ever heard before, making the wolf's ears twitch in annoyance. Then the pegasus barreled into the wolf's side, burying her face into the soft fur of its shoulder and neck. Its tongue flopped out in another happy grin. “Oh, please tell me you can talk!” Fluttershy murmured.

“That's so cool!” Dash leaned in from a hover. “Can we keep it?”

Applejack giggled, a mix of awe and joy making her voice heavy. “Maybe you should ask her. Gosh, I wonder what the family would say if they could see this. . .”

Everyone stopped talking as Spike disentangled himself from Twilight's embrace and waddled up to the radiant being. The wolf's grin vanished as it considered this new creature. Spike stared up into the wolf's gaze silently, tiny fists clenched at his sides. Twilight tensed, spells springing to mind ready to yank Spike back at the slightest hint of trouble. She wasn't certain how this ancient creature would have reacted to the Darkness they'd dispelled, and even now the wolf's nose wrinkled in distaste, like she could still smell the blight on the little whelpling.

To Spike's immense credit, he didn't flinch under the scrutiny. He kept his eyes, wide and full of gravity, fixed on the predator in front of him. He looked so deliberately vulnerable, Twilight felt her breath catch on the inhale, drawing a couple of glances of her own. The wolf considered the baby dragon quietly. It leaned its long muzzle down slowly, and it sniffed him with gentle whiffs of air. And Spike waited as though he faced judgment for all his past sins.

Then it pushed its muzzle against his forehead, leaving behind a faint, wet impression of its nose. Then it let out a single, happy bark, making everyone jump a little. Spike's eyes shut, and he stumbled forward into an embrace, burying himself in its fur, and the wolf wagged its tail briskly, disturbing the sparse foliage that had sprung up in its wake. Relieved laughter spangled through the cluster of ponies. Twilight sagged, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. She had the feeling, watching the dragon and the wolf, that maybe she'd been too hard on herself. Maybe she'd been too hard on everyone she loved. Even Celestia.

Suddenly the wolf's demeanor changed, and it swung its broad head into Spike's belly, knocking him flat. Then it leaped back, arcing gracefully into a flip and landing in a fighting crouch, a deep growl shaking the tiny stones around Twilight's hooves. At the sight, the fur all along Twilight's back stood on end. The benevolence had vanished, and she was forcibly reminded just how much power and speed a carnivore of this size could contain.

The wolf vanished as a bolt of lightning struck it, white searing Twilight's vision as the concussion of noise knocked them all down. She scrambled through the dust to get her arms around Spike again, and not a moment too soon. He was struggling and shouting, trying hard to place himself between the wolf and its attacker. She just kept her arms around him and coughed, blinking hard to clear the dust from her eyes.

Spike needn’t have worried. The beautiful wolf had dodged the assault, its paws leaving deep furrows in the stony ground. A small, flat shield, carved with images of fire on top and perfectly reflective on the bottom, coalesced in the air above the wolf's shoulders. It hovered, as though it was suspended telekinetically, and the wolf crouched behind it, deflecting a pair of magical attacks harmlessly into the air. Then Luna was upon it, and the two traded blows frenetically.

“What're you doing, Princess?!? Have you gone completely bonkers?” Dash shouted, adding her voice to Spike's protests.

“Oh, goodness. . .” Rarity just sat in a dust-covered daze. “I'm so painfully confused right now.”

Luna's horn and hooves swung, and the wolf's reflector parried, hollow clangs interspersed with the scrabbling of hooves and paws. Luna's form was flawless and full of grace, but it lacked the raw power and speed the wolf possessed. Fortunately for the divine visitor, the wolf could also match the alicorn's grace step for step, flowing around her as it defended itself. It didn't have to strike back, even to push Luna on the defensive.

Until a yellow form flashed between them, wings spread, and Luna was forced to wrench her attack to the side, stumbling to a halt. “Stop this!” Fluttershy shouted, her eyes as hard as sapphires. “Stop it right now!”

“Princess, what's wrong?” Twilight implored. Spike broke away from her and bounded to Fluttershy's side, his arms outstretched. Twilight let him go. Luna wouldn't hurt the two of them in cold blood, would she?

The Princess was haggard, spattered with dank liquids and smudged with dust and grit. Her mane had lost its flowy, ethereal lightness, instead appearing dark, matted and tangled. She held her ground and breathed as though she stood upon the edge of her endurance. But the rage in her eyes was bitter, and old.

“YOU!!!” She thundered, raising a hoof to point like an accusation at the brilliant wolf as though Twilight's friends didn't stand in her way. “YOU DID THIS TO US!!!!!” The wolf ceased its growling, although it didn't drop its guard, and Luna continued as though she and the wolf stood completely alone. “MY LIFE? MY FAMILY? GONE!!!” Her roar dropped suddenly to a fragile whisper. “You brought it here.” The words dripped out, each one dragged through centuries of anguish. “You fought the end of all good things, and you brought it here. To our home.” She panted through her teeth. “You gave us gifts, and then you failed to warn us of the cost.”

The wind had gone completely out of Spike's sails, and Fluttershy looked similarly lost. So they didn't protest as Princess Luna shoved past them both, bringing her shaking nose to within an inch of the wolf's muzzle. “You did this to us.” Her voice shook with vehemence, rendered even more chilling by its lack of volume. “You did this to us, and you left us alone. You have destroyed. . . everything. . .”

The wolf had stood from its crouch by then, tall enough to look Luna in the eye. But it didn't. It's gaze shifted to the side, weighed down by the alicorn's accusations. Twilight imagined the wolf's gaze tracking through eons of conflict and destruction and struggle. It's eyebrows lifted as its gaze met Luna's again, a soft look of imploring meeting the alicorn's fury and pain.

Luna clenched herself. “You will help us. But it will not erase your debt, or my family's blood from your conscience.”

The wolf chuffed a worried whine through its lips, as though it agreed.

Final Interlude

“Are you sure you'll be okay staying here?”

They were gathered in the mess hall, or what Pinkie still referred to as the Arguing Room. All around Twilight ponies and gryphons ate more than they talked, but there was still enough conversation to generate a low buzz through the room. The gentle smell of flowers didn't do enough to mask the smell of fish, but Twilight found she was getting used to it. The crew had yet more repairs to do, and Sun Shade had insisted she put them to work after they'd had food in their stomachs and a little rest. Her friends ate too, preparing themselves for the journey ahead. Twilight didn't feel much like eating, but she knew there wasn't really a choice. So she followed her question with a pair of petunias, chewing thoughtfully.

A plate full of untouched gems sat in front of Spike, and he just sort of stared at them without really seeing them. Twilight thought she understood exactly how he felt. He sighed wearily before he spoke. “No. I don't think I'm going to be okay here.” He pushed some of the stones around with a claw, making flashes of glittery light sparkle around the room. “But I'm not going to be okay if I come with you, either.”

“I think I understand.” Twilight nodded somberly. “Even in the best case scenario, things probably wont be okay for awhile. But that's not really what I'm asking.” She took another bite from her plate.

“Yeah.” He sighed again. “I'll stay here. I'm sure I'll just worry myself sick and be totally useless, but I'll stay.”

“We need the Elements. We need Princess Luna. And that wolf is really. . . We ought to give her a name.”

Pinkie, listening in, squeaked with delight. “Oh! How about Snowball? Or Furface? I like Furface! Or maybe we can call her Whitey! Does that work?”

“We ain't gonna call'er 'Whitey,' fer Pete's sake.” Applejack rolled her eyes.

Pinkie scoffed. “Well, I think 'Whitey' is a whole lot better than 'Pete,' although I do understand the comedic irony involved with naming a female wolf Pete.”

Spike turned back to Twilight. “The big guns. I get it.” His voice didn't brighten much as he spoke. “I wouldn't be able to defend myself if I came along, and I wouldn't be much help. I know.”

“So,” Twilight asked hopefully, “You understand why I think you should stay here, where its safer?”

“I understand it with my head.” Spike nodded, pushing himself off the bench and waddling up to her. “It's getting my heart to understand that's the problem.”

Twilight smiled kindly. “Would it help if I told you I wanted to stay too?”

Spike nodded, throwing his arms around her waist.

She returned the hug with interest. “Well, I do. I want to stay more than anything else in the world.”

They held each other in silence for a beat, while the gentle hum of conversation drifted around the room. Eventually Spike pulled back enough to glance up. “Twilight, I'm sorry I. . .”

“Hey, there's no need for that.” Twilight gave him her most understanding smile. “It wasn't your fault. That shadow stuff was bad news. We should have used the Elements on the curse the first chance we got.” However, try as she might, she couldn't get him to look her in the eye. “It was our mistake.”

“That's the thing, though.” He sounded serious, and way more grown up than he should have. “I think part of that was me.” She wanted desperately to interrupt him, to contradict him, to reassure him, but she didn't. She had no intention of disrespecting or belittling his turmoil. So she let him finish speaking. “I felt mad sometimes, having a bedtime. Missing out on parties. Having to do chores. I mean, most of the time I felt great, I felt needed. And I knew you cared for me the best you could. And that you weren't just showing me off to the other students. I knew you weren't like that. I knew it here.” He tapped the side of his head with a claw. “But sometimes, maybe I felt that way a little in here.” Tap tap on his chest. His eyes wandered the room. “It's a horrible feeling.”

Twilight gave him a moment, to see if he had more to add. Then she tried to answer as carefully as she could. “But you felt guilty for having those feelings, so you never said anything out loud.” He nodded somberly, his wide green eyes finally meeting hers. “Well, maybe that's the important part. Maybe, if you felt more comfortable telling me about those feelings, they wouldn't build up quite so much.” She tapped his chest with her own gentle hoof for emphasis. “Tell you what. I'll promise, right here and right now, that if you ever come and talk to me about how you feel, I promise to listen. Always.”

“And you promise I wont get in trouble?”

He looked so serious Twilight couldn't stifle a grin. “I absolutely promise.” She scooped him up in her arms, and as she did, her grin turned mischievous. “Oh. . . I get it! This was all a clever ploy to re-negotiate your bedtime!” She assaulted him with telekinetic tickles, going for the spots she knew would make him laugh. “You're gonna need more than dark magic to change that, Buster!” His giggles filled the room, drawing a number of warm, happy glances up from their plates. Pinkie in particular looked as though she might cry.

“No more! I give up!” He gasped, tears leaking out of his eyes. Twilight stopped, accepting the surrender with dignity. Spike's eyes turned serious again, although this time they were suffused with hope. “So. . . you don't. . . hate me, or anything?”

“No, Spike, not even close. . .” She answered earnestly. “I. . . I take it you don't hate me?” She'd tried to put a confident, mature face on the question. She hadn't wanted him to know how deeply his words had truly cut her. But she faltered in the delivery, and it emerged with just a hint of uncertainty.

Spike just shook his head no, and buried himself into another hug. She'd been getting a lot of those lately. But this one went deeper, somehow. It was a hug that went all the way through to her core. She hugged him back, hard. For all that they had tried to mend their relationship over the past couple of hours, Spike just wasn't the same dragon. Not really. Something essential had changed between them, and Twilight doubted it would ever be the same again. She doubted he would ever really be the same. And neither would she.

“So, you're gonna go find whatever was behind the curse and take care of it?” Spike asked when he finally disentangled himself from the embrace.

“Yeah. That about sums it up.” Twilight's stomach dropped into her hooves at the thought of what lay ahead.

Spike waddled back to his seat, clambering back into place. But he still didn't touch his food. “And that'll be easy, right? What with that awesome wolf helping you all out?”

Nope. “Piece of cake.” Twilight deliberately failed to remind him about the rest of Celestia's story. The part where the wolf had already lost that fight at least once, before it gave its power away and died. “You saw what we did to that curse, and the giant worm monster, right? We'll be back before you know it.” Lots of warm gazes still watched the two of them, but Applejack looked as though she'd had a glass of cold water thrown in her face. She must have heard the untruth in her voice.

Twilight tried not to look like she was holding her breath, but Applejack didn't call her on her lie. Twilight was still having trouble dealing with the knowledge that the massive worm hadn't been Yami. What in the unknowable universe were they going to find out there when they set out? Fortunately, Spike didn't notice Applejack's reaction. He'd dug into his plate of food with gusto, crunching into a large tourmaline.

Twilight washed down more flowers with a glass of lukewarm water, tasting nothing. She was keeping the truth from Spike. Not the truth about what lay ahead. She had no facts which she might conceal. She was, however, lying about her feelings. She had the best of intentions, she was sure of it, but it still amounted to deception. Which was exactly what Celestia had done to her. Twilight was no longer certain her mentor had been wrong to do so, either. She found herself yearning for the days when right and wrong were as clear as night and day, instead of being muddied somewhere in-between. Twilight abruptly stood up from the table.

Rarity was the first to notice, looking up from her quiet conversation. “Is it time, dear?”

She nodded. They had a lot of ground to cover, and the night was already more than half gone. Twilight held two hopes close to her heart, like tiny, fragile flickers of light. There was the hope that, with Princess Luna, the Elements of Harmony, and the mysterious wolf together, they might stand a chance. They might find some way to unravel the evil they would undoubtedly find. The second hope she dared not speak aloud. She hardly dared think it to herself. More than anything in the world, Twilight just wanted this whole thing to be over.

One way or another.

Barely an hour later, Twilight cantered through cold moonlight, her hooves beating a steady rhythm on the wet, stony ground. The massed wheel of clouds overhead had broken apart, most of those clouds having fallen into rain hours ago. When the Elements had cleared the curse, they had purified the air as well, lifting the taste of stagnant mildew and leaving behind the faint scent of wildflowers. Had she and her friends not been running towards the gravest danger they'd ever been in, she might have appreciated the clean night spread like an offering of peace around her.

Instead, Twilight imagined the puffs of fog she exhaled were fractured pieces of her soul escaping into the night. She shivered a little. Ahead of her, Luna scarcely seemed to disturb the stones she galloped over. Despite her steady speed, her hoofsteps made almost no sound. By comparison, Twilight and her friends practically sounded like a stampede. Rarity and Applejack cantered on her left, and Pinkie and Fluttershy crowded in on the right. Rarity and Fluttershy sounded pretty winded. Twilight hoped they wouldn't have to run much further.

Twilight paced herself and measured her breaths. It was her turn to rest, however short a respite it proved to be. Only a few more moments, she was certain. . .

There she goes. Luna's horn glowed a dark, rich blue, the light expanding in a sphere to encompass the six companions, and they all staggered a bit as the ground shifted beneath their hooves. Everyone except Luna, of course. Twilight recovered her stride in an instant and surged into the lead, trading places with the Princess as they continued galloping.

“Ugh, dangit,” Applejack struggled to recover her lost footing. “Long as I've known you Twi, I can't seem to get used to this teleporting crud.”

“Would you rather run the whole way?” Rarity asked playfully, craning her neck to glance at the farm pony behind her.

“I don't see why we're running at all!” Pinkie Pie added. “After the day we've had? Jeez with bees on a brick of cheese, I'm beat!”

“We've lost the element of surprise, Pinkie.” Twilight squinted into the distance. Something dark pulsed just beyond the range of her eyes. Something that thrummed at the edge of her senses, pulling her forward. “Assuming we ever had surprise on our side to begin with.”

“Ah, Surprise,” Pinkie huffed between breaths. “The seventh and sneakiest Element of Harmony. . .”

“Sounds more like an Element of Parties to me.” Applejack grinned.

Pinkie gasped in shock. “Oh, you're right! There are totally Elements of a good party! Like the Element of Snacks and the Element of Balloons, and the Element of Uncomfortably Loud Music. . . I'm gonna have to write these down when we get back.”

“We'll have to make it back first.” Fluttershy muttered grimly.

Rarity lagged a little, slowing down until Applejack nudged her gently in the flank. She shook herself, redoubling her efforts to keep up the pace. “I still don't see why we had to leave before morning. A quick power nap would have been just the ticket.”

“We couldn't risk it.” Twilight was repeating herself, but her fear kept her annoyance in check. “Imagine what might happen if this thing, whatever it is, found the airship. Never mind the fact that our crew has suffered through way more than anypony ever should, it's still our only way home.”

Rarity managed a sigh between breaths. “I suppose you're right.” She conceded.

She tried not to think too much, but thoughts still rebounded inside her head. Twilight's failures were phantoms, haunting her, drifting just behind her tail no matter how fast she ran. She'd flung herself into a fight without thinking, and because of that choice Celestia had died to protect her. She'd murdered Teryn without even trying to find another option, another path. She'd abandoned her friends, thinking she was doing them a kindness, protecting them from danger. Instead, she'd hurt Spike so deeply he might never be the same. Fluttershy certainly would never be the same if they ever made it back to Ponyville.

The list kept going, tallying up behind her while she led her friends into even more danger. Their new ally was heartening, an extra little drop of hope, but it wasn't enough to dispel her doubts. They didn't need Twilight, they needed someone better. Someone more pure of soul. Someone. . . she shook her head, dislodging the train of thought.

Twilight and her friends maintained a brisk pace, but she still heard the swift beat of padded paws racing up and overtaking them from behind. The wolf had stretched herself into a full sprint, and her speed was intimidating. Her strides devoured the distance in great chunks, leaving behind a trail of bright green verdure. Within moments she had raced past the group, paced by a blue and rainbow-hued figure flying just above her. The pair outdistanced the larger group without too much trouble.

“Land's sakes, ain't she fast.” Applejack breathed, moonlight streaking platinum highlights through her mane. “Watchin' her run is like watching the sun rise.”

Twilight's steps faltered for a moment. The sun's rising should have belonged to someone else. It was almost like Applejack had read her mind. She blinked her eyes to keep them clear.

Fluttershy seemed the most winded, but she kept up with grim determination. “I'll bet. . . After being a statue. . . for so long. . . she just wants to run. . . and run. . . and run.”

“I know I would. I'd also like to jump. And sing songs. And hug somepony. Probably all at once.” Pinkie gave a leap for emphasis, but all she could manage was a little hop.

A few deep chuckles bubbled up out of Applejack's throat. “I wonder if that wolf-”

“Snowball!” Pinkie interjected.

“. . .that wolf knows that Dash ain't givin' it her all?”

Pinkie Pie took the opportunity to agree. “Snowball is fast, but Dash could probably fly circles around her.” She said. “Maybe she's resisting the urge to show off. Somehow.”

“I'm having trouble resisting the urge to design.” Rarity added with a frustrated toss of her mane. “What we're doing is important and all, but if I lose any of these cozy and chic winter pieces inspired by that wolf's bold markings, I intend to become quite cross.”

“Cross?” Applejack smirked. “Somepony's been spending too much time with Sun Shade.”

“A fashion-forward pony if I've ever met one.” Rarity's eyes glinted. “And a catch of a friend, if I must say so myself.”

“Hang on, everypony.” Twilight focused on a point in the distance, somewhere ahead of the racing figures, and with a soft pop she teleported her friends forward, crossing a solid half-mile of ground. As they appeared, Princess Luna took the lead again, and Twilight dropped back into position. By taking turns, they shared the burden of crossing the distance to the crater's center.

“Princess?” Pinkie asked, her voice bright and hopeful. “Is it true that when you met Snowball all those years ago that she turned into a statue? Like, when she died?”

Luna galloped in silence for a few heartbeats. “Yes.” She gritted through her teeth.

Pinkie's ears flattened at the alicorn's tone. “Oh. Well, isn't that a good thing?”

Rarity huffed. “It's too early in the morning, and I haven't had enough coffee for riddles. How is that a good thing exactly?”

Fluttershy offered an explanation. “The wolf turned to stone when she passed her power to Luna and her siblings. And then the same thing happened to Celestia when she passed her power to Twilight, right?”

Rarity worked a shrug seamlessly into her gallop, managing to make it look dainty. “I still don't see how. . . Oh! Oh my. . . do you really think it's possible?” She craned her neck back to try and glimpse the wolf, once again catching up from behind.

Applejack scowled at the ground in front of her hooves. “So, y'all are sayin' that whatever magic the wolf gave Teryn. . . went back to her once he was, y'know. . . gone?”

“Pinkie, how could you possibly say that's a good thing?” Fluttershy admonished. “Do you even know what you're saying?”

“I'm saying that Celestia maybe isn't totally gone for good!” Pinkie exclaimed. “I thought everypony would be happy about that!”

“Where would that power have to come from, Pinkie?” Fluttershy uttered gravely. “Who would have to. . . to go away for that to happen?”

Pinkie Pie opened her mouth to speak, and she immediately swallowed her words back down. A grim silence fell over the group as they ran.

And there it was, out in the open. Twilight's second hope. She had already examined that particular chain of logic, and it made sense. The wolf had split its power into three, and for some reason its magic didn't die out. It just moved, and it brought life wherever it went. Twilight wasn't simply hoping that Celestia's immortality would transfer back to her mentor upon her death; she was counting on it. But for the first time Twilight wondered if, just maybe, Luna was hoping for the same outcome. Would Luna let Twilight die tonight, if it meant she could see her sister again?

The alicorn's features betrayed nothing of her deeper intentions. “Let us speak of other matters.” Luna insisted, as the wolf and Rainbow Dash caught up and raced past again. “Speculation is futile, and here we ought employ a strategy before our lives are imperiled.” She said with asperity.

The airship was silent, the deep night unblemished by the sound of voices or the clanking of metal. The crew, all of them, had been ordered to get some sleep. Most of them probably slept deeper than they ever had in their lives. Sun Shade strongly believed that they couldn't be pushed any harder than they had been. The last few days had allowed them scarcely any sleep, and they'd followed orders and performed like true heroes. And this last crisis, they could do nothing but wait and abide the outcome. Just like Shade herself. So sleep was the order of the day. There would be plenty of work to do when, and if, the assault team made it back.

Besides, even if the crew could work themselves further to the bone, they probably wouldn't do it for her. Sun Shade lacked the strength of personality, the exact mix of charisma and steel that inspired Thistle's crew to want to follow him to the ends of the world, and that made her willing to do the same.

It was no surprise that Shade found herself awake, standing in a storage room deep in the heart of the Vigil, next to the body of the Captain. The ex-Captain. She thought numbly. The room had been tossed around by their descent into the crater of course, and by their subsequent adventures, but someone had already set the place back in order. Since Luna and Twilight had ordered the ship into immediate action back on the shore, they hadn't time to properly bury Thistle, so they had done what they could instead.

His body lay upon a cot draped with the nicest sheets and comforters on the ship. He looked as peaceful as she'd ever seen him, amazing in and of itself considering how he'd died. About him were carefully strewn knickknacks, mementos, and scraps of note paper with kind words upon them, left behind as members of the crew had come to pay their respects. There was even a single flower, only slightly wilted, something which must have been preserved and tended carefully by some member of the crew for goodness-knows what reason. And someone had had the decency to light a few candles about the place.

Shade could only stare at him, at his features, as though he might stir or mumble at any moment. He wouldn't. She knew better. But it didn't stop her from staring. And while she did she marveled at herself. She'd fallen into complete hysterics when she'd needed to hold herself together, and now that she wanted to cry, absolutely needed to cry her heart out. . . she felt nothing. She was barren and desolate. Empty. It was a strangely numb frustration, and it left her wishing fervently for the strength or energy to simply grieve properly. Was that really too much to ask?

The door behind her opened, and Sun Shade had to try very, very hard to keep from ordering whoever it was back out. Even though she wasn't a mess of tears, she felt very strongly that her emotions should be private. But she couldn't be the only one unable to sleep, and everyone aboard had more than earned the right to be in this room. Earned that right many times over. So she bit her tongue as hoofsteps drew closer and closer.

The changeling appeared, glossy exoskeleton reflecting the candlelight. 'Sorry, Shade, I don't mean to intrude. . .” His buzzing voice set her teeth on edge. “I can come back later, if you like.”

She bit her tongue a little harder, determined to say nothing, lest she say the absolute wrong thing. She just kept her eyes where they were and waited, giving him time to say or do whatever he liked, and then buzz off. She was finally beginning to feel the grief building up inside her, and she needed to be alone. Needed it.

He gave her a moment to speak before nodding somberly, as though he read her perfectly. Then he turned his attention to the cot, and the gryphon that lay upon it. Shade couldn't help it. She glanced at him, wondered just what thoughts were flitting through that insectile brain of his. What was he feeling? Was it anything close to what normal ponies would feel? Anything like genuine loss or regret or sorrow? Was it something alien, something she would never understand?

The changeling looked like he wanted to say something to him, maybe say several somethings. Yet even though every word seemed to die on his lips, his pupil-less eyes managed to say plenty enough. He lifted a hoof to place it on Thistle's shoulder and recoiled at the sight, as though seeing his own natural form was an unpleasant shock to him. In that moment, Shade thought she finally understood.

In a flash of green, Pin Feather stood before her again, feathered and familiar. Only then did the changeling allow himself to touch the body of their friend, gently squeezing the lifeless shoulder through the blankets.

Acting before she could second guess herself, Sun Shade placed her hoof atop Pin Feather's yellow claws, adding herself to the moment. He glanced at her, startled, but he didn't pull away. And even as the pain deepened in his eyes, his shoulders lifted as though a large burden had fallen from him.

Shade felt the tears then, finally, finally, and for once in her life she didn't make an effort to hide them from a friend.

34: Daybreak

They'd been running for a couple of hours, and a painful stitch had just made itself at home in Twilight's side when she sensed a change in the air. They'd appeared out of a teleport, and she could hear a low tone resonating up through the black, oily-looking rocks and into the atmosphere. A blank sound that hung just below her range of hearing. She tasted copper on the back of her tongue. They were close.

The landscape looked much the same in every direction. The rim of the world stood dark against the stars, squeezing the sky into something small, crushing its sovereignty. But there was nothing to warn her friends when she slid to a stop, scattering loose stones before her. The other ponies stumbled, drawing themselves up short, panting for breath. Perhaps they hadn't sensed what she did. Luna cantered to a stop next to her, her head held tall and proud, her long horn sparkling beneath the last rays of the setting moon.

Her friends gathered at her sides, mute with expectancy. Twilight walked forward, stepping carefully despite there being nothing at all to see. She hardly dared to breathe, and she stretched her eyes wide until they hurt. It had to be here, somewhere. . .

Paws padded up from behind her, presaging the white wolf appearing at Twilight's shoulder, white coat gleaming in the starlight. From Twilight's other shoulder Luna hissed. “Circle. Await an opening.”

The wolf growled softly, then she launched herself off to the side, leaving a burst of grass bobbing gently in her wake. Twilight hardly noticed. She also scarcely noticed Dash flitting down to her hooves, rejoining the group. Her heart lurched with fear, but it was steadied by an undercurrent of wonder. She might learn more about the universe in the next few hoofsteps than any of her instructors back home had ever dreamed. Her steps felt light, and the world spun with a subtle dizziness.

This shouldn't be me. Twilight thought. It shouldn't be me standing here. She was just a young mare, barely an adult. It should have been Celestia. Her soul might have been equal to this task. At the very least, it should have been her burden to undertake. How had it all fallen on Twilight Egghead Sparkle?

“Y'all alright, sugarcube?” Applejack's words were swallowed swiftly by the empty night. “Ain't nothing here. . . is there?”

Pinkie sing-soned absently. “There is.”

“Our world stands condemned.” Luna's jaw clenched, and her words hummed like hollow steel. “Tonight we face that same judgment.”

There! “There!” She whispered. Twilight's thoughts seemed to rebound in her head before they found their way to her mouth. Do you see it? “Do you see it?” She pointed, and her hoof scarcely felt like her own. But past the tip of her violet limb, something lay upon the ground. A tiny dark patch lurking in the light of distant stars.

Twilight continued walking forward, her steps smooth even though her body felt a bit like a clumsy puppet, her movements happening only after she intended them to. She stopped when she was close enough to make out details.

She was about a stone's throw away from. . . Is. . . Is it a fish? Twilight wondered absently. It was small. Smaller than her, anyhow. It's surface sort of resembled scales, except that the scales weren't scales at all, just dark grey skin and irregular crimson rivulets marring its surface like fissures. Its lump of a head was split by a small mouth, slightly agape. It lay on its side, and Twilight could make out the closed lid of one of its eyes, gummed shut with mucous. Its body curved into a 'C,' ending at what might have been the tail of something that swam. She could only see two limbs, high up on the creature's body, but they were just rubbery, vestigial disks, utterly useless.

It tugged on Twilight's memory, the shape and form both strangely familiar and utterly wrong. She couldn't say what it looked like. Whatever it was, it wasn't breathing. Instead it pulsed in a smooth rhythm, not like the beat of a heart, but rather like a bag stuffed with restless worms. And that sound. . . that not-tone wailed like a siren in her head that her ears couldn't hear. Somehow that sound stung her nose, made her eyes water. Her head felt fuzzy, like she'd had too much sarsaparilla.

She had no doubt. They had found Yami. Here was the being that had driven Celestia and Luna from their home until they fled across the sea. Here was the being that had twisted and crushed Teryn's soul until he believed that murdering his sisters was the kindest thing he could have done for them. Here was the creature that had stilled the turning of the world, until magic was all that was left to keep it spinning. Here was the creature who had summoned or created or nurtured a horrible worm (Worms? Twilight eyed the sky nervously.) capable of devouring. . .

“Is that it?” Dash blurted out loud, her voice cracking more than usual. “That's what we've been scared of this whole time?”

“Shush!” Luna's voice cut like a lash.

Rainbow Dash failed to take the hint as her wings lifted her off the ground. “C'mon, lets light this squishy thing up, Harmony-style!”

“Do we need ta duct tape your blamed muzzle shut?” Applejack hissed. “Just look at how freaked out the clever ponies are!”

“Honestly, one of us could just step on it.” Dash tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Actually, I'mma call dibs on that.”

“Now, Twilight.” Luna muttered, her horn aglow. “Do it now.”

But Twilight's mind had slipped backwards through time, plunging her towards a memory that scarcely ever saw the light of day. The present dwindled as the past overtook her, filled her mind with immediacy. She'd been nothing but a young filly, quiet and well-mannered. Her family had a small dog that had been old for as long as Twilight could remember. They'd ended up at a veterinarian's office, telling young Twilight that Cygnus was just there for a checkup.

Twilight hadn't believed them. She hardly ever fell for the lies she'd been told, however well-meaning they'd been. Twilight had been too bright, too astute and far too rational to fall for the simple miss-truths most foals believed without question. As it was, her parents were too somber and her older brother too upset for this to be a happy visit. She knew Cygnus had been sick, and she knew that nobody expected him to get any better. She'd also understood that their lies were well-meaning, but they were still lies.

“Hey, let me go!” Dash's voice reached her ears, but the words couldn't connect to anything in Twilight's brain. It didn't belong in the memory.

Applejack mumbled around a mouthful of something.

“I believe Dash is correct.” Rarity said. “Let's get this over with.”

Her parents had been distracted by comforting Shining Armor. Or maybe they were just so used to Twilight staying still and minding herself that they forgot to keep a close eye on her. She still wasn't positive why she'd felt the need to wander off. Maybe it was the charade her parents felt compelled to act out, pretending everything would be fine. Maybe it was the smell of the place, a strange mix of antiseptic and animal and desperation. She'd drifted through a door before it swung shut, lured into hallways she only vaguely knew were off-limits. The sterile white of the walls were a mocking contrast to the sharp, noisome air.

As she turned down a corridor, a wave of chaotic sound suddenly washed over her; the rumble of heavy wheels and loud instructions enunciated over the moans of some nameless beast, drawing closer. Twilight nearly jumped out of her skin, cringing into a shallow doorway, certain she would be spotted and be in tremendous trouble that same moment. But the busy cluster of ponies swarmed right past her, obscuring a massive shape being rolled along on a metal platform.

“Here goes! Rrrrraugh!” Dash's voice was harsh with strain. Magic sizzled through the air. Rocks grumbled and crunched against one another. Then someone cried out in surprise and pain. Luna shouted a warning. Something scythed past Twilight, her body swaying in the wake of some blindingly fast movement. But she didn't twitch. She couldn't. It didn't exist in her memory. So she remembered none of it.

They slammed through a nearby set of double doors accompanied by another low, ghastly moan of pain from the mysterious creature. Twilight had been scared, but her curiosity had pulled her through the door in front of her. She didn't have a clear idea what she saw in that room. She'd grown up in Canterlot, and the only cows she'd ever seen had been in books. And, while she'd had some sort of notion where babies came from, she had been quite fuzzy on the details. Rainbow might joke that she still was.

But nothing in her limited experience could have possibly prepared her, or given her any sort of context for what she saw. Phrases like 'sepsis' and 'antenatal' and 'still-born' were uttered, and though they meant nothing to her as a filly, they carried with them a thick taint of abhorrence. Long before her parents had planned on explaining the concept of death to their foal, Twilight had watched as well-intentioned veterinarians cut open a cow's belly, revealing crimson blood and startlingly red entrails. She'd watched as they removed something, something that she understood had been making the cow very sick. And as the smell of blood and dying meat hit her nostrils, her eyes beheld something. . .

It's an embryo. . . “It's an embryo. . .” Twilight breathed. A stillbirth. Some kind of mockery. . .

As her consciousness returned to her body, she felt instantly startled by how easily she'd been hypnotized, how vivid and necessary her memory had felt as it snatched her away from her friends. Blinking hard, she scanned her surroundings as though waking from a deep dream.

Yami lay unmoved, surrounded by a perfect circle of untouched stone, as though a drafting compass had been used to exactly delineate where destruction ended and calm began. Outside that line, rocks lay broken and jagged, subtle smoke still rising into the air. The small, deformed entity had clearly remained untouched.

To her right, Luna's horn still glowed bright and hot, her features limned in dust and frustration. Behind her Rarity lay stunned, wide-eyed and panting but essentially whole, supported by a hyperventilating Pinkie. To her left, Dash had collapsed onto the worn, black rocks, and Fluttershy was busy putting her wing back together, blood staining the sunshine-yellow of her hooves once again.

Applejack was muttering imprecations and reprimands to the fallen pegasus. “Why'd you go and do that for you brash, overzealous, shortsighted, feather-brained idgit. How hard it is to just. . .” Her words may have been harsh, but her tone was thick with care and concern.

What happened? “What. . .” Twilight's body still felt disjointed, unresponsive. Something trickled slowly down her jaw, and Twilight reached a hoof up to the side of her head.

“Did you see none of that?” Rarity asked, incredulous. “Whatever is the matter with you, Twilight?”

When Twilight's hoof touched her ear, sharp pain caused her ear to flick away, scattering more drops of moisture. Her hoof came away red. As her eyes tracked a falling drop, she spotted a lock of her purple mane on the ground beside her, illuminated by starlight.

Pinkie Pie paced forward a careful step. “It looks like it's sleeping. . .” Her eyes twitched and darted, as though she saw a great deal more than anyone else.

“It looks dead.” Applejack stated flatly.

Stillbirth. “Stillbirth.” Twilight had to force the words out through numb lips. It chose to look like this. “It chose. . .” It's mocking us. Mocking every living thing.

Fury radiated in waves from Princess Luna. “Our danger is not thereby diminished. Behold.” With a glance to ensure Twilight was still paying attention, Luna summoned a bright ball of glowing force and launched it towards Yami. The attack rebounded skyward, no more than inches from it, revealing the perfect circle as a perfect sphere, a shield that hardly seemed to exist.

Twilight almost missed the counterstrike. There was a flicker in her vision, and suddenly Luna's shield fractured in a bright array of multicolored sparks. Pain dented her expression, and Luna dropped her shield rather than attempt to mend the deep fissures that had appeared.

“'Tis a reflex, nothing more.” Luna gritted through her teeth. “Yet. . . 'tis considerable force. Be careful. Employ the Elements Twilight, yet be on thy guard and strike with care.”

But Twilight felt herself slipping away again, another memory threatening to overtake the present. She felt a jolt of fear, imagining herself standing slack-jawed and unresponsive while her friends fought and died beside her. However, she wasn't helpless yet. While her brain felt fuzzy and indistinct, and her spirit still felt oddly disjointed, she hadn't stopped thinking. As the present faded away, Twilight found the door to power within herself and she flung it wide, unleashing the Elements of Harmony.

The present reappeared in stark clarity, a blinding swath of rainbow color driving back the night, outshining the stars with ease. Once again, Twilight had the power of the living world at her command, and immersed in its possibilities she felt no fear. Yami might be prodigious, but its curse had been eradicated. It had nothing but itself to draw upon for power. And, through the core of Celestia's magic Twilight felt a fine, delicate control of the Elements she'd never noticed before. Perhaps they stood a chance after all.

The rainbow lashed like a living thing, swiftly threading itself into a looping spiral, something Twilight hoped might contain whatever backlash Yami might counter with. Then, at her command, the rainbow swept skyward and plunged, aiming for Yami's heart.

Twilight had expected opposition, had prepared herself for layers of shields, triggered spells set and waiting to explode. She'd been ready for resistance, ready for a struggle. With her body shining bright in the middle of a cynosure of power, she struck with all the desperation of one who had already lost too much, endured too much pain.

She hadn't expected it to be so easy. She met no obstruction before the kaleidoscope of raw magic poured into the tiny figure, its body pummeled by a waterfall of power. Twilight reached eagerly forward. . .

It was like, like slamming through a doorway. The creature before them was only a snippet, an expression of something much larger. . .

And on the other side, Twilight searched for the dark heart of evil, whatever corrupted center that wanted to end life and destroy beauty. Wielding the full force of the Elements, she thrust herself into the void, and the void is what she found. Around her, in every direction, darkness yawned. There was enough lightless, formless nothing that it strained Twilight's senses.

Her brow furrowed deeply as she snarled. It couldn't hide from her. With a shout Twilight erupted, rings of prismatic magic slashing out into the emptiness all around her in great arcs. The magic reached outward, and outward, and still further outward, illuminating nothing but formless clouds of inert energy and specks of dust. . .

”Twilight, wait.” Pinkie Pie cautioned. “This doesn't feel right.”

. . . but there was something out there after all, wasn't there? Something solid? In a place where direction had no meaning there was. . . something like a wall or a barrier, something that marked the edge of cause and effect and reason and time. The beginning of all that could possibly be. . . Twilight blazed a trail through the void, shedding light like a comet, hoping to get a closer look.

Pinkie's cries grew more frantic, but none of her other friends offered Pinkie their support. Their silence undermined her fear, and Twilight dismissed it.

As the incomprehensible barrier drew closer, there were gaps, fine cracks through which Twilight could just make out tiny lights. . . lights that twinkled with familiarity. At the same time something behind her shifted, as though the cosmos beyond the cosmos was swirling through its own complicated dance of creation and destruction.

”Twilight! Please! Listen to me! You need to stop. . .” Pinkie was almost sobbing now. “Don't do this! You can't stay out there!!!”

For some reason, Pinkie's voice felt muted, devoid of import. So Twilight shushed her, entranced. Twilight turned away from the barrier to see formless swaths of energy coalesce and ebb. Dust swirled, parting like curtains. Patterns emerged and vanished before she could grasp them, and amidst it all, some illimitable sentience seemed to resolve, to draw into focus upon her, to notice her form shedding light like a beacon. The simple force of its gaze threatened to extinguish her like a gust of wind upon a flickering candle. And suddenly Pinkie's fear began to make sense, burrowing itself beneath her skin like scuttling centipedes.

Defying the crawling sensation Twilight screamed, and she flung her power out into the void, light bursting continuously in every direction. She refused to give in, utterly refused to be blinked out of life and purpose. Yet all she accomplished with her vast might was illuminating, defining, giving substance to a slowly-resolving shape, something she desperately did not want to see, something hard slammed across her shoulder, breaking her out of formation and scattering her body across the bed of stones. She blinked eternity out of her eyes to see the wolf, standing above her, snarling a threat into her face.

“Don't you see?” Pinkie was at her side, trying in vain to pull her to her hooves. “Can't you feel it? It's from before. From before there even was a before, and it lives in the not nothing that wasn't never anything. . .”

Her friend's voices and the wolf's snarls blurred into the ringing in her ears, but the wolf's expression was as clear to her as a shout. Horror twitched through Twilight's limbs as realization dawned upon her. Yami only truly existed in the formless chaos beyond the edge of their universe. And the celestial wolf had just stopped her from pouring the lifeblood of her world straight down its gullet and back out into the void. Twilight's hooves suddenly felt ice-cold, and sweat broke out along the sides of her mane. She trembled on the precipice of a desecration so vast she scarcely had words for it. If she hadn't been stopped. . .

She'd come within a hair's-breadth of tearing apart everything she loved in the world with her own hooves, and it would have been as simple as giving in to the Darkness had been. As easy as snapping a neck.

The misplaced ringing sound deepened, thickening the air around her. The simple act of drawing breath into her lungs became difficult, like breathing syrup. As she gasped and panted, something deep in her brain begged her to panic, to give in to the autonomic reflex of basic survival. She'd already failed in every meaningful way. Twilight only remained because her shaky limbs refused to obey her instinct to turn and bolt for the horizon. The wolf turned its snarl away from her, and Twilight unwillingly followed its gaze.

Yami's eyes blinked open, black orbs shiny behind clear, thin strands of mucous. Entranced, Twilight hadn't noticed that the creature had moved, but now it hovered upright, glaring down at the cluster of creatures gathered before it. The sphere around Yami had solidified, a globe of purest energy, sturdy as crystal. To Twilight it appeared natural, like a vessel or container of some sort. It opened its mouth-

-it's tinny screech slammed the world to a stop and Twilight hung immobile in the gap between instants, helpless. Her legs were iron, her muscles steel. Even her eyes locked in place, unable to twitch away from the piercing sound. The stars seemed to retreat, their light dimming as black shadows gathered about Yami's sphere. The darkness radiated a brutal puissance, licking like flames or dripping like water or crackling like lightning by turns. Then, just like that it closed its mouth-

-and Twilight staggered as time released, catching herself as her heart began to beat, as her lungs began to move. Twilight floundered in the moment, struggled to rejoin thought to thought, purpose to action. She felt further from her body than she had before, like she had to stretch to reach it. And the air was still thick with power, difficult to breathe. The small lights of anoxia began to dance across her vision. All her companions, in fact, needed a moment to gather themselves. Well, all of them except one.

“AAAAAAAAAAA-” Pinkie Pie stepped forward, glaring as she shouted back. “AAAAAAAAHH yourself, buster! See? I can yell too!” She visibly struggled to draw breath, but she filled her lungs and threw her words as hard as she could. The effect was galvanizing. “This is our home! Not some pie you can just chew into! So how about you just go away and leave us alone! Scram! Hit the road!”

“She's right!” Rarity took the momentum, flipping her mane out of her face even though it slid right down over one eye anyway. “You've no business here, you grotesque bully!”

Fluttershy was still reeling from the strange stuttering of time. She gasped and pawed her hooves ineffectually at the ground, unable to find her balance. But Dash had wedged herself beneath one of Fluttershy's wings, steadying her, and Dash glared at the abomination from under her spiked bangs. “Oh, you're going down!” She called out. “So are so going down!!”

The wolf's snarl deepened, as though in agreement. Then the beautiful predator launched herself into the air, leaping six or seven pony-lengths so gracefully she looked like a painting in motion, and she struck Yami with her floating metal disk. It was deflected by the clear globe, accompanied by a hollow ringing sound and sparks erupting in a dazzling arc. Twilight felt the wolf's fury from where she stood, and for a moment she imagined the depth of the struggle before her. The light and the dark, life and death, creation and destruction. In a daze, Twilight wondered if maybe this conflict they'd been swept up in was as old as time itself.

A large, black spike of magic buried itself violently in the exact spot where the wolf had landed, but she had already attacked again, flipping effortlessly forward. Her claws and teeth fared no better than her strange weapon against Yami's shield, nevertheless she pressed the assault with vehemence.

Luna set her hooves and squinted, firing focused bursts of mana bolts in-between the wolf's movements. Her magic fractured against the shield, but she simply adjusted her aim and kept trying, searching for a weak spot. It didn't look like she was strong enough to even grab the creature's attention, but the darkness that coalesced above her head indicated that she had. As black power slammed down like a giant hammer Luna didn't even flinch, she simply teleported into the air, pressing her measured attack from another angle.

But the falling anvil of magic made stones erupt in every direction, one large rock in particular arced gently towards Twilight, and just as she focused a spell through her horn she felt a current of memory and her legs trembled beneath the weight of the massive stone as she tried to take ginger steps forward. The twists and turns of the hedge maze baffled and frustrated her. With Discord's power, couldn't the maze be the size of Canterlot by now? The size of a mountain? Her progress was painfully slow in a place where they absolutely needed to move quickly. They needed to find the Elements! But her sense of haste went scorned by her friends.

Applejack had been acting weird. Twilight wasn't certain, but she thought her friend might have been telling lies. Fluttershy was acting vindictive and cruel, and she'd never seen Pinkie Pie so far away from smiling before in her life. Not to mention Rarity's obnoxious obsession with this stupid rock. She couldn't understand why her friends were all being so horrible to her, and to each other.

“Must. . . find. . . Rainbow Dash. . .” Twilight panted. She couldn't seem to draw a proper breath, probably no thanks to the boulder weighing her down from shoulders to hips. For the umpteenth time she involuntarily tried to levitate the rock with her magic, only to remember her horn was gone. “As a team. . . we're unstoppable! Rainbow Dash. . . wont let us down.” But Discord had separated them all from one another with incredible ease. She had the subtle, worrying feeling that, if they ever found each other, it was only because Discord wanted them to. They could never win against something that could just take a unicorn's horn away. Could they?

“Well, lookie there.” Applejack had stopped, pointing a hoof upwards at an angle. “Rainbow Dash is flying away! She's abandoning us!”

Twilight rolled her eyes as she tipped the heavy burden off her back. “Now I know that's a lie.” The words left her mouth even as her eyes tracked skyward, following a blue streak that flew overhead. She couldn't believe it. Her stomach sank with dread. They were doomed. If this was how each of her friends felt, then maybe. . . but no. There was a subtle glow at Dash's throat as she flew, the glow from a jewel. She hadn't lost her Element, or turned her back on her friends. . . in fact, she was circling back around, moving her hooves and flinging magic through the moonless night with reckless abandon, weaving and dodging through lashing tendrils of shadow.

But she saw everything off-kilter. Twilight noticed she lay on her side, feeling scraped and abraded. Pinkie Pie disentangled herself from her midsection and stood up, her eyes worried. “Wake up. . . Twilight. . .” She panted. “You almost got mushed.” Then her knee twitched and jerked, and Pinkie turned and flung herself in Fluttershy's direction.

Twilight pushed herself up to her knees. Ahead of her, Yami had disappeared behind a larger orb of shadows, compacted and constricted until it looked solid. Thick grooves in its surface channeled orange, bitter energy into patterns that flowed and changed, almost appearing as a mocking face composed of runes. The shadows lashed out of the top of the orb, waving chaotically through the air at the pegasus and the alicorn, now working together to combine their attacks. Her stomach sank. It was growing stronger.

To her left, Rarity was levitating rocks larger than Spike, and Applejack was bucking them with incredible force. They shot across the intervening space faster than Twilight could follow and smashed to powder against Yami's outer sphere. The Element around Applejack's neck was alight as well.

In the space of a blink, a. . . a sort of hatch dropped open in the side of the sphere and a sizzling beam of bright energy vaporized the next projectile and rebounded off of the wolf's shield just inches from Applejack's flank. The wolf snarled in pain as she was driven back, but Rarity stomped an indignant hoof and a spire of rock shot out of the ground next to Yami, slamming the hatch shut and cutting off the attack.

The light dimmed just in time for Twilight to see several balls of dark energy, difficult to spot against the backdrop of the moonless night, arcing towards the cluster of companions. The wolf lashed her tail and howled, and a few of the arcing orbs were deflected back towards Yami by invisible slashes of power but she missed a few and Twilight blinked forward in time to catch them on her shield, the roar of explosive energy muffled by the layers of protection she'd willed through her horn.

As the dust settled, Applejack grinned and nudged her with a hoof. “Now there's the unicorn we know! Atta' girl!”

The moment Twilight dropped her shield the wolf launched herself back into the fray, and Yami lifted its bulk into the air on a portion of its tentacles and slammed itself against the ground, creating a crash of reverberating sound that startled Twilight nearly to death. The entire forest had become still as a tomb, and she could only stare at the leafy branches waving inches in front of her nose while her heart beat a rapid, panicked pace.

She berated herself for daydreaming about darkness and battles, especially while walking through the Everfree. Yes, she'd taken this route to Zecora's a number of times by now. Yes, she'd been feeling more and more at ease in the normally frightening forest. Yes, Zecora made the best tea she'd ever had, outshining even the stuff they served at the palace. But even so she should have kept her guard up. That falling tree had taken her completely by surprise.

And now that her heart was beginning to slow, she could see the fallen tree now blocked her entire path forward. She would have to double-back and take another route, and the sun was already beginning to set. Although. . . she thought she could make out another path, a clear area somewhere through the trees. . .

Twilight stepped carefully through the underbrush, doing her best not to disturb any animals that might be resting nearby. Everfree fauna could be titchy if they were disturbed. Also, she was trying not to disturb the plants, for much the same reason. But after ten minutes of careful treading, the lush foliage thickened, tangling her legs and barring her way. She couldn't force her way forward without tearing vines or stripping leaves, and that just felt like a really bad idea.

She remembered a spell she'd been practicing, and she'd become quite good at it. Few unicorns ever mastered teleportation, but Twilight had found the spell a fascinating challenge she could accomplish, once she'd become strong enough. With a deep breath and an effort of magic she vanished, leaving the plant life to sag back into position with a sigh-like rustle.

Twilight appeared in a clearing, the path behind her she recognized as leading back to Ponyville, only because the path before her was so familiar. The forest pressed up against low cliffs, and a narrow ravine outlined the path as it continued deeper into the heart of the woods. She recognized this clearing because the first time she'd been here, she and her friends had run into a very irritated manticore blocking their way. She chuckled at the memory, but she also knew that this particular path wouldn't take her directly to Zecora's. She'd just cost herself valuable time.

Why hadn't she just teleported herself past the tree? Twilight rolled her eyes at herself as she stamped a hoof in frustration. Why did she always have to overthink the simplest problems? Dash or AJ could have instantly told her what she should have done, and if this little story got back to them neither would waste any time telling her anyway. She reminded herself that this is why she had friends, because no one was perfect on their own. Except maybe Celestia, of course.

She had just turned back towards Ponyville, giving up on the notion of Zecora and tea with a sigh, when she heard a rustling in the underbrush. Backing up a few paces, Twilight put up a shield spell, forming a little purple bubble that distorted the forest around her. This was another spell she'd been getting better at, and the simple protection bolstered her confidence. It was probably just a bunny anyway, right?

What emerged from the shrubbery was an unnatural synthesis of scales and feathers, a hissing parody of fowl and dragon. Twilight recognized it from one of her books on rare and magical creatures as a cockatrice. She was thankful she already had her shield in place, the beast would probably just leave her alone. Actually, this might not be a terrible time for a little observational study, safe as she was. But, what was it the book had said? Something about their eyes. . .

One moment too late she recalled the pertinent passage as its red, bottomless eyes locked onto hers, and she felt her hooves slowly begin to crystallize in place, the stillness of stone overwhelming her body. It's beak opened into a screech that filled her ears, separating her from the forest and the slanting sunlight and the lush, humid air. Twilight knew what was happening to her, but she couldn't look away. She physically could not move or twitch or breathe as her body turned to stone, darkness sealing away the slow gloaming of the Everfree, replacing it with miles of rocks and an empty sky. Yami's screech had ground everything to a halt except for itself. Even Luna, Dash and the wolf hung unmoving in the air, as frozen in time as the stones that hadn't been granted the grace to fall completely back to the ground.

Twilight watched helplessly as a portion of the black orb segmented and swiveled outward, becoming a strangely-jointed paw that swung overhead as it pivoted, smashing the brilliant wolf as she hung suspended in mid-leap. It crushed her effortlessly to the ground. Then the paw flicked backwards, swatting Luna out of the air the way Twilight might have swatted a fly. Twilight only wished she had enough volition left for a scream to die in her throat.

The massive orb swiveled once again, and the paw with too many digits swung for a third time. Twilight imagined she saw fear flicker through Dash's eyes, as the shadow of the construct fell over her, blocking out the sky.

Twilight cursed her helplessness. What was wrong with her brain? Why did she keep losing the present the way she'd been? Why did she feel like she had to fight to make her own body do what she told it to? And why couldn't she force even the smallest trickle of magic through her horn during these odd interstices in time? Sure, her body was frozen or stuck, but her mind wasn't. She was still cogent in these gaps between instants. Why couldn't she just move Dash out of the way?

Twilight set herself against the stillness of the world and Yami's unearthly screech and pushed, willing the magic to flow through her leylines. She only needed to pull her friend back a little ways, and telekinesis was the simplest of unicorn spells. She brought Celestia's magic to the surface of her mind, feeling the power build and the pressure increase. The simple spell was like trying to lift a mountain with a hoof. She placed herself against the will of an ancient deity, and strove to believe she would prevail.

She did not. She lacked the strength, or she lacked the understanding to apply her strength properly. She remained helpless as the odd limb swung murderously towards Rainbow Dash. Despair settled into her limbs and into her heart. She still wasn't strong enough. She would never be strong enough. And Yami's power only seemed to grow.

But the scream ended half-a-heartbeat before the limb connected and Dash twisted herself between the clawed extremities, eluded three lashing tendrils and swept into a dive. In a flash, she'd scooped her shoulder underneath the wolf's body and was winging her out of the heart of the fight before Twilight could even find the means to properly stand on her own legs.

Determined to do something before being subsumed into utter helplessness again, Twilight forced her eyes to focus until she spotted Fluttershy, still collapsed upon the ground. She gathered her magic and teleported Fluttershy over to where Rainbow was already setting the wolf's limp body gently down. Shy probably couldn't stand yet, but Twilight hoped she could do something to patch up the eldritch visitor.

“Twilight!” Rarity's voice was strained. “Help us!”

I can't use the Elements against it! “I can't. . .” I don't dare. . . Yami would consume them all when it could. That was its sole purpose. Using the Elements, she would be giving Yami a thread it could use to unravel the connections between all life left in this world. And without the Elements she couldn't seem to stay in the present. Without the Elements. . . without the Elements. . .

Without the Elements of Harmony, she could still fight!

The massive paw had rejoined the larger mass, but several of the black, lashing tendrils of energy had merged into one long undulating limb emerging from the orb, and it whipped itself at the prone form of the wolf and Fluttershy and Dash. Shy didn't even look up, and Dash deliberately stepped in the way, but Twilight struck at the base of the limb as hard as she could, hoping to sever the appendage in one blow.

Despite her remaining strength, all she managed was driving Yami's aim off-center, but it was enough. The blow swung wide and smashed into the ground to the side, sending shards and chunks of stone flying through the air. Twilight struggled to keep her senses wide open, trying to feel the kind of magic they were up against. It felt wrong; greasy and caustic and somehow sticky, as though it would smother her and burn her and not let go. She forced herself to keep her senses open anyway. Maybe, if she could understand it. . .

Two chunks of the large orb pistoned their way out of the bottom of the larger mass, supporting the orb like strange, bi-pedal feet. It swiveled towards her friends, lurching in oddly mechanical, stuttering motions. As it did the ember lights in the surface of the orb intensified, sharpening the delineations of the runes they formed. It was a fiercer magic that it gathered, made just to burn, and the light made the thing look even more like a static, mocking face than it did before. Twilight blinked herself through space with a thought, appearing at Dash's side.

The evil sphere pulsed, and a shockwave of bitter energy rippled outward in every direction. Twilight felt it coming, and she swept her horn in an arc, parting the energy harmlessly around her and her friends. Understanding the energy actually had helped her counter it. Her grim, dust-covered features brightened a little.

Another thrashing limb formed, providing symmetry to the foe seemingly forming right before their eyes. It swung, and Twilight struck again, pushing the construct off-balance. And by her side Dash followed her lead, using her hooves to direct her magic the way the ponies in comics would have. Twilight tried not to roll her eyes, but the corners of her eyes crinkled, like she wanted to smile.

Together, they protected their wounded. Twilight didn't even know if the wolf was still breathing, or if Fluttershy could do anything for her with her Element. But still she fought hard to keep the beast at bay, blasting a seeking tendril out of the air, deflecting a lateral swing with an angled shield, scattering bursts of force with her own attacks, and when it reared back for an overhead smash she and Dash managed to clip its leg, upsetting its balance and sending it crashing to the ground.

“Hah!” Dash pumped a hoof into the air, then swayed unsteadily a bit. “Suck on that you donkey-bucked, flank-stained, flea-ridden, uh. . . um. . . outhouse-smelling. . .”

“We get it.” Rarity appeared at their side, looking disheveled and wearing a smirk.

Dash shrugged, then turned her attention to Twilight. “What's wrong with you, Twi? You keep drifting off.”

I don't know. “I don't. . .” Movement caught Twilight's eye, and she threw up another bubble shield. Look out!

A black mist boiled across the intervening space, washing over Twilight's shield, and moments later seeping through it. Her spell faltered as she watched it fail, mist oozing though it like cheesecloth. She lost sight of her friends as the mist separated them all. She'd thought to hold her breath, but the mist made her eyes sting and burn, and it made the skin on her nose start to tingle unpleasantly. She heard coughing nearby.

“Rarity?” Twilight croaked, trying not to inhale. But it hurt. Her lungs felt like they were cramping in her chest. Breathing hadn't been a picnic before she'd gasped in her last breath of air, and now she struggled second by second to hold on. She knew a spell for generating wind, if only she could focus. . .

A howl went up from somewhere behind her, and a strong wind began to blow, sweeping the roiling mist away. The moment it peeled away from her watering eyes Twilight gasped, drawing sweet oxygen deep into her lungs. Her eyes still felt dry, and her nose and hooves felt as burned as if she'd spent the entire day in the sun. Behind her the wolf stood tall, its nose pointed towards the sky, baying for all she was worth. Twilight wasn't quite sure how her magic worked, but the wolf seemed to be giving off her own soft, white light.

Yami gathered might within itself and it fired directly into the ground below it, a continuous beam that caused the ground to shake beneath her hooves, forcing her to stop running as the barrier magic failed and the shield surrounding the city crumbled. When the shaking stopped, they kept running, only now their staccato hoofbeats were punctuated by the high-pitched, insect-like whine of changeling wings hurtling towards them. The creatures crashed into the streets and sidewalks all around, snarling and hissing at them as they ran by.

Up a flight of stairs, and Twilight skidded to a stop. Her friends piled against her from behind. They stood in front of a wall of changelings. Their fangs glistened pearly white against their shiny onyx carapaces. There were so many, and they stood between Twilight and Canterlot Tower, where the Elements of Harmony were kept. They had to get through somehow, but Twilight was filled with a hopeless dread. She knew there was no way to win this one.

“Looks like we’re gonna have to do this the hard way!” Rainbow Dash sounded confident as she punched her hooves together and darted forward, but she pulled up short as she wound up facing herself. Twilight felt sick. She knew what would happen. She stepped out of the way as Rainbow Dash was flung across the concrete. “How did sh. . .?” Rainbow gasped. Several more changelings flashed a sickly green, and then reappeared as exact replicas of her, crouched and ready for a fight.

“They’re changelings, remember?” Twilight said.

“They’re changelings, remember?” Chorused half a dozen Twilights in unison. The effect was terribly creepy.

“Don’t let them distract you! We have to get to the Elements of Harmony. They’re our only hope!” At that, Twilight Sparkle launched herself into a sea of changelings. It was an absolute nightmare. She found herself confronted with images of her friends, and they all tried to hurt her. She wound up kicking an Applejack in the face, and punching a Rarity across her jaw. She turned and blasted a Rainbow Dash with her horn, purple magic catching the changeling and flinging it far away. At least, she hoped it was a changeling. A Fluttershy pounced on Twilight’s back, and Twilight knew that couldn’t be the real Fluttershy. Twilight rolled with the other pony’s momentum just like her brother had shown her, and kicked the Fluttershy into another pony.

Twilight Sparkle turned and found four other Twilight Sparkles leaping toward her. She blasted two out of the air before she found herself slammed onto her back, kicking desperately to keep their teeth and hooves at bay. One pinned her arms as the other leveled its horn at her neck. Twilight rolled her back and kicked the other Twilight in the face with both hind hooves. She heard something snap, and she felt a moment of nausea as she contemplated the damage she’d just done. She didn’t hesitate to keep up the attack, however. As fast as thought, she lifted the other Twilight off of her with magic, trapping her in a faint purple light.

Once the real Twilight rolled to her hooves, she considered her enemy for a moment. It looked exactly like her in every detail. The hooves, the mane, even the six stars that made up her cutie mark were replicated exactly. The only difference was the expression on her face. The changeling Twilight’s face radiated hate and fury. It shocked Twilight to the core to see that expression on her own features. Then Twilight remembered her friends. They might already be hurt, or worse. With a snarl and an effort of will, Twilight slammed the imposter hard into the ground once, twice, three times, and then let the stunned creature tumble onto its back. She pounced on it, and with an entirely different spell peeled its glamour off like the skin of an orange, revealing the dazed and dizzy monster underneath.

Twilight leapt off the changeling and turned to face a sea of imposters. Twilight’s horn burst into a purple light so bright it was almost blinding. She grit her teeth together, planted her hooves, and with a cry sent out a shockwave of force that radiated out in all directions, peeling back her friend’s fake faces and exposing the lies beneath. When she finished her spell, she stood, head drooped and panting in front of a sea of black, snarling, fanged grins. Not one of her friends was to be found. They were gone.

Twilight felt herself snap. All of her fear turned instantly to hatred and anger. She no longer wanted to make it to the Elements of Harmony. She only wanted to hurt these creatures that had invaded her homeland, destroyed this city, destroyed her brother’s wedding and done something terrible to her friends. She wanted to kill them. And as they leapt for her throat, Twilight Sparkle began to do exactly that. She burned them to ash and cinders and the backlash of her spell washed over her, the smell of singed fur sharp upon the back of her tongue.

Rarity lay before her, white fur blackened and smoking in patches. Her breathing was shallow, and her eyes rolled towards Twilight in pain and fear. Most of her friends still fought to survive against Yami, but here lay her friend, and the magic Twilight had cast still lingered in her horn. One second too late, Rainbow Dash barreled into Twilight's side, sending them both tumbling across the stones.

“Twilight!” Dash scrambled to her hooves, her wings stretched into the sky behind her. “Aaaaugh, I knew this would happen! I knew it!” Her cyan chest heaved, and her eyes had filled with tears. “I called it. . . I bucking called it!. . . And not one pony. . . listened to me. . .” She panted, grief and anger warring in her eyes. “Somepony. . . has to stop you. . .” Dash tensed to fling herself murderously at her.

But Twilight wasn't looking at her. The despair in her heart had crystallized into something clear, something that made cold, logical sense. She had finally become the culmination of her failures. She was worse than useless, so much worse than ineffectual. Her failures had hurt her friends. She only hoped it was for the last time. Twilight turned and walked with stately dignity towards the fight still raging nearby.

Explosions tried to shove her away, but they couldn't make her flinch. Shattering rocks didn’t alter her path. Twilight walked through chaos as though it had lost its power to scare her, to hurt her. Her fear had crystallized too, and it no longer made sense to feel afraid. She only had one thing to do ever since that one fateful moment upon an empty shoreline, and she marched towards her destiny with what felt like courage. If courage was supposed to feel cold and empty and sad all at once.

Voices shouted warnings, dear voices Twilight would have smiled to hear any other time. Yami had sequestered itself back inside its black construct, and it crackled now with orange, vaporous lightning. For a moment it turned to regard her as Applejack shouted taunts from what sounded like miles away. Twilight's vision blurred, and she didn't rub the tears, letting the world smudge itself into streaks of color and shadow. Magical attacks smashed unheeded off the thing's back as it reached a rippling limb down to coil around the purple unicorn but something knocked Twilight aside and out of the way. She rubbed her eyes clear.

The limb had coiled around Princess Luna and lifted her into the air. It tightened, soft snaps reaching Twilight's ears over the other sounds of battle. When it tossed the alicorn away, she tumbled like a stuffed doll, coming to rest awkwardly on one of her wings. Twilight failed entirely to scream, or speak, or stand or move. Numb shock froze her in place, rendered every possible action meaningless. No. . . Wait. . . I. . . Luna's sacrifice made no sense, and she found herself frozen by her inability to understand.

So Twilight failed to see the limb swing back around for her. It was as cold as a winter wasteland and strong as it gripped her, the pressure enough to crush the air out of her lungs and make her own pulse painful in her ears. She was glad there was no room left in her for breath; she would have hated to scream for her life in front of her friends. They'd be hurt enough by her choice without them having to hear her give voice to her pain. Celestia save us. Take your strength back. You chose the wrong pony. She thought as, despite the tears in her eyes, she saw energy gather in the core of the construct and surge toward her. Save us. Please.

Crackling energy tore through every fiber of her being, scouring every nerve with excruciation and agony until everything became white and every sensation stopped.

All the studying she'd ever done, all the love she'd ever felt, all the friends she'd ever made, all the wrongs she'd worked so hard to amend, all the strife and pain and yearning. None of it had saved her. None of it had made her worth being saved.

There was nothing to see, nothing to feel, nothing existed but emptiness. Everything had been completely erased. The world had gone away, taking the agony of the physical with it, but her pain endured. Her broken heart forced heaving sobs through her throat, bitter tears clawed their way out of her eyes, and Twilight began to wonder if eternity was exactly this: endless nothing and memories.

She would go mad. She would definitely lose her mind. But oh, not yet. Not while the pain of her failures and leaving the world she'd loved was so fresh, so vivid. So her heart cried on, and on, and on, and on, and on.

. . .

Eventually something else began to coalesce in Twilight's consciousness. Nothing was never not anything, as Pinkie Pie might have said. She became aware that something had changed, or maybe it was always there, waiting for her to notice that something actually did exist. She felt cold marble beneath her hooves. A breeze through her mane, sensations that felt real even as she knew they couldn't be.

Twilight lifted her head from the floor, an immaculate expanse of black marble unveiling before her eyes. Tall white pillars stretched towards a sky filled with glowing warmth and light. Here was a place she didn't recognize, a place that belonged in an ancient tome somewhere, gathering dust as it awaited discovery. Her wonder cut through her misery, stilled the convulsions in her chest.

She shifted her limbs without rising, and noticed she wore a light tunic of smooth silk, draped about with a white saffron toga as fine and delicate as gossamer, clasped with a orchid-colored fastener in the shape of a star. What. . . ?

”Twilight Sparkle.” The voice resonated inside her head, rather than reaching her ears. She couldn't tell where it had come from. Nevertheless it was achingly familiar, causing her head to snap up, violet eyes wide. She was lying in a monolithic building with no roof, as though the audiences it had once held had been so sacred they could never have been blocked from view of the sky. Large, ornate pedestals encircled the expanse of perfectly-smooth marble in measured intervals. Some of them stood empty, and some were topped with statues, regal monuments to Goddess only knew who or what.

She wanted to see more, but the light intensified, growing brighter as it focused, delineated, took shape. Twilight felt her before she saw her, and despite however much she blinked, she couldn't seem to keep the tears out of her eyes.

Celestia stood before her, appearing more illimitable and radiant than she'd ever imagined. Her mane spangled with glints of benign light that could make any star jealous. Her hooves were wrapped in gold bands that ascended nearly to her knees, and she was draped in silk of exquisite purple. She shone with light, and her eyes held softness. Twilight gasped in sorrow as much as in relief.

“Please.” Twilight trembled with the depth of her yearning. “Please. . . Take it back. . .” She meant her magic, her life. Celestia's gaze held a subtle reprimand alongside her compassion, and Twilight scrambled to explain. “I'm not worth all of this! All this power and responsibility! Can't you see that?!” Her mentor neither moved nor spoke. “You were wrong! You were wrong to s-save me. I'm not the one. . .” She fought back the tears long enough to plead what she felt in her heart. “I can't fight without hating. I can't fight without hurting. . . I can't. . . I'm sorry. . . It was-was my fault, I didn't know what I was doing, and. . . and you. . . you died. . . and it should have been me. . .”

The alicorn knelt before her and enfolded her gently in her limbs. Twilight felt Celestia's neck press against hers, and felt her cheek against her shoulder, and Twilight felt her control slipping, her pain and grief and indignant rage straining to break free from their bonds. But Celestia's mouth moved, and even though she was so very close, her words came from very, very far away.

”Twilight'” Or maybe the voice was only in her mind. ”You will join us here, one day. Sooner than we would like.”

Her words were love, Twilight could feel that deep in her heart. But they also denied her. Denied her the right to give up her power, her life, denied her the right to rest. “No. . .” Twilight shook her head, but Celestia continued.

”My faithful student, these burdens are not yours to set aside. I grieve on your behalf, yet I am also proud of you. You have so much more that you must do. I have faith in you.”

A wail bubbled up in Twilight's chest. “I CAN'T-”

”TWILIGHT!” The urgency in Celestia's voice cut through every other emotion, denying her even the simple release of despair. ”CONCENTRATE!”

Celestia vanished into mist and beams.

I can't.

The giant arena blew away like chaff.

Twilight. . .

Nobody is coming to save us. . .

“Twilight. . .”

I don't. . .

“Twilight! You need to get up!”

I don't know how!

The night sky resolved itself into clarity, blacks and blues and violets against the horizon provided a familiar backdrop behind Fluttershy's anguished expression. Dawn was coming. “Twilight, thank goodness. . .” The pegasus was haggard and worn, streaked with dust and soot and blood. “Twilight. . .” Her eyes struggled into focus, but then instantly drifted elsewhere, glazed with exhaustion. “We. . . We have to. . .”

Twilight bolted upright as Fluttershy collapsed to the side, catching her friend as her limbs gave out. With a quick glance Twilight took stock of her surroundings. The fight raged on, but they were clearly losing. Their injuries were piling up too fast. The wolf fought the hardest, keeping Yami's attention despite deep slashes across her midsection and a pronounced limp. Pinkie Pie stood guard over Rarity, the unicorn being cared for by Applejack. Twilight noticed her friend still breathing, and her shoulders sagged a little. Meanwhile the giant-orb-monster thing had swelled in size, and it sported extra limbs. No matter what they did, Yami only seemed to grow in power.

Dash still flew circles around the fight, looking for some way to harass their foe, but it was clear she'd exhausted herself almost completely. Princess Luna. . . Twilight fought away the sting of guilt, it wouldn't save her friends. . . Luna had somehow righted herself, her wings unfurled and slack, regal head hung towards the stony ground. Her horn glowed with magic, and Twilight realized she must be raising the sun. That's. . . That's genius! The sky continued brightening in the east, but the rim of the crater was tall. She needed a little more time.

Okay, think of something! Twilight battered her mind for ideas. Focus! Twilight settled Fluttershy down gently, then drew upon Celestia's core of magic, selecting a large boulder nearby. The gravity spell came easily, and the boulder dislodged itself and fell skyward, growing smaller and smaller. Twilight struggled to maintain her grip on that spell as she readied another. Then she waited. An idea was forming in the back of her mind.

The wolf was having trouble staying out of Yami's reach. When the predator stumbled, Twilight found her voice. Hey you! “Hey you!” Twilight managed to shout. At the same time she released her gravity spell and cast another, a thin and dangerous beam of mana like a taut wire sprang up between the two of them. It was a spell she'd used to cut gemstones before, and she scaled the intensity up until the spell threatened to destabilize. Come on. All she needed was a little give, one tiny crack in that giant sphere.

The orb twitched, turning towards her with what might have been surprise. The beam sizzled and spat where it struck the body of the construct, corroding its way slowly through layers of protection. She was certain her spell would have eaten completely through the thing, given enough time.

But the body of the construct began to move then, spinning slowly on a tilted axis, spreading out and negating Twilight's efforts with ease. It ambled towards her strangely on its supple extremities until Twilight fell under its vague shadow. It almost seemed to leer at her.

Then the falling boulder struck the construct with a deafening crash, splitting the rock straight up the middle, the halves sliding off either side. In the stillness that followed, Twilight smirked. “Hmph. I guess I just assumed you'd be smarter than me.” She struggled to pull in enough air for a second taunt, but she didn't need it. The orb launched itself at her, aiming to crush her into dust.

Twilight vanished in a flash of purple. “And you're a little slow.” Limbs smashed into the stones she'd just been standing on, having blinked away again. Magical attacks arced through the gradual dawn, tracking Twilight's movements and adjusting their trajectory to converge on her shield, crushing it like tinfoil.

She was thankful she hadn't stayed to meet them. As the backlash from the detonation washed over her, a part of her shuddered to imagine trying to meet that kind of force head-on. The rest of her exulted in her ploy. She'd successfully pulled the monster away from the panting wolf, away from the Princess. It was exactly what Celestia would have done. Twilight wasn't trying to be strong anymore. Finally she was trying to be smart.

It worked. As Yami oriented on her location once more, Twilight spotted the bright white of sunshine sweeping across the crater, and as the dark orb lunged towards her on its gangly limbs the sun peeked over the horizon and the construct collapsed, the cohesion within the shadows eroded by the clean sunlight.

Luna raised her head into the light. “COWERING 'NEATH DARKNESS!?” Luna trumpeted. “STEP THEE INTO THE LIGHT, CURSED WRETCH!!”

The sun's rising tugged at Twilight's memory, drawing her back towards the past, but she was ready for that too. She flung open the door to the Elements of Harmony and in a blink her eyes became disks of shining platinum, bright as the sun.

Twilight, her friends, they had only ever channeled the power of the Elements. It was a vast tidal wave of magic, guided by the six ponies as though they were the perfect conduit. Yet they were only the river bed, directing the energy and nothing more.

Not this time. Twilight grabbed hold of the magic, bottled it up, stopped it like damming up a stream. The pressure was incredible. It filled her mind and swelled beneath her skin until she felt she would rupture like an overfilled balloon, the might of the Elements too much for one mortal soul to bear.

Except Twilight was no longer mortal. The magic which should have burst free from her grasp or rent her limb from limb did neither. Instead she quivered as though her entire body was made of electricity and screaming exultation. Her mind caught fire with knowledge and possibilities. For a brief eternity Twilight held the entire world in her mind, in her soul, a transformative apotheosis that seared her to her core.

Deeper than that, the primal force fused her to herself, her doubt and self-contradictions ameliorated in transcendent fire. Her joy and sorrow became one. Her grief and love became one. Hatred and understanding and rage and forgiveness fused her soul into an alloy, unbendable and dauntless. As it drifted into her vision, her mane was a shifting panoply of vivid colors. Her hoof, as she lifted it, was a deep deep violet that bordered on black, yet it broke and refracted the sunlight into a million bright pieces.

“This is our home.” Her words spangled with complimentary chimes, the force of her words aiding the sunlight in wafting the shadows away. “Not yours. You don't belong here.”

It lashed at her with shadows, but the sunlight shone through them, depriving them of substance, and Twilight cut them down easily, careful not to touch the corrupted being at their core with the Elements. She stood tall, met every attack with confidence, as though she had never known doubt in her life. With an effort of will Twilight's horn began to glow with its own version of sunlight, shining like a fallen star. The bits of glass that had fused on her horn mere days or a lifetime ago melted away in the radiant light.

The orb of shadows melted away completely, revealing the malformed fish-thing squinting in the harsh glare. Twilight seized the opportunity, sweeping her horn in a grand arc and tearing open a gateway right beside the creature. But Twilight had no focus, no object with a sympathetic connection to stabilize or direct her efforts. Instead, the raw force of her will and magic cast the spell into the black, into the far reaches of the universe.

The air rent before her, shredding like fabric, revealing a startling darkness speckled with distant stars. The portal brought with it a rushing howl of wind that evoked the elemental fury of a hurricane. Twilight set herself against the pull with all her might, counting on the Elements as a tether she could use to anchor herself to the world she fought to protect. Get out of here get out get out of my home get out of my HOME GET OUT GO!!!

Yami shuddered but did not succumb to the rising pressure. It seemed to resist through sheer force of will, and Twilight had the unsettling impression that it had sunk its teeth into their world, metaphorically speaking, refusing to let go. Instead its mouth dropped open-

-and once again its screech froze time in its tracks the howl of the gale silenced as abruptly as it had begun and in horror Twilight watched as Yami exerted its magic along the leylines of the world and it unraised the sun. It spun the world backward until night presided once again over the crater of the world. Twilight's stomach seemed to fall into her hooves as the light dipped back below the eastern rim, the glow in the sky dimming into the starred expanse of night and when the scream stopped-

-and the wind began again Twilight launched herself on the offensive, flinging spells into the fierce wind like a pony on the verge of despair. All she needed was to drive the physical incarnation of the Void out into space and close the portal. That's it. Twilight added more wind to the fray, but the being before her simply ignored the pull of air around its soft form. She carved great chunks of stone from the ground, and swung them with ferocious strength, but Yami countered her spells easily, shrugging them aside. But Twilight did not panic until she saw black tendrils of energy coiling about her portal, the edges beginning to seal shut.

That's when Twilight became desperate enough to exert her incredible power directly against Yami, and a coruscation of rainbow force poured like a river from her horn. Then she felt the familiar, icy touch of Darkness twining about her soul. Yami's dead eyes blazed with triumph, and in a heartbeat it snapped the gate shut, the wind stilling instantly.

She found herself drawn into those bottomless eyes, the power calling to her, the Darkness mirrored by her own capacity for violence. Twilight had become familiar with that side of herself, familiar with the shadows in her heart, and through that connection Yami pulled. It didn't need to be let inside because she had already made that decision, already let it inside her. Oh sweet Celestia it was waiting for me to do this it was just toying with me waiting for me to make a mistake. . . The Elements of Harmony, Celestia's immortal power, even Twilight's soul felt like they began to siphon out of her eyes and mouth as the Void called to her.

Wait. Twilight's time in the shadows had left her without defense against the sick power twining through her. But that blade had to cut both ways, didn't it? Reflexively, Twilight tightened her grip on the shadows, gripped them back, and she did the only thing she could imagine in that moment. She pulled back, strove to haul the essence of Darkness out of Yami's grip by siphoning it into herself. She was only backed by the life of one half-dead world, but the driving will of the Void had to reach through what amounted to a small crack in the edge of their universe, and could not exert its full force.

The shadow magic that Yami had been building turned to mist between them, directionless. Twilight pulled with all her might, with every drop of magic she'd ever acquired, fueled by her need to protect her home, protect her friends. Perhaps she'd caught the ancient one by surprise. But for a brief moment she pulled Yami off-balance. The bitter cold of Void and shadows clouded the colors of her power like silt in a stream. Darkness began to eat into the glowing platinum of her eyes like the onset of an eclipse.

While Yami's magic was not entirely its own powerful wolf jaws snapped around the creature's spine, dragging it out of the air and to the ground. Instantly it savaged the gnarled thing with quick shakes of its powerful neck.

Yami tried to pull its power away from Twilight, to disentangle its magic from hers to defend itself. But the thick, rotten blood from its chosen form spattered in every direction, and its struggles grew weaker. With one last, desperate cry it suspended time, froze the breath in Twilight's lungs. Yet all it succeeded in doing was locking its power in Twilight's grip, rendering her unable to let go.

They were connected when she felt it die. Her ears cleared as the distracting tone in the air disappeared, and Twilight drew her first easy breath in what felt like ages. But as it went it took a piece of her with it back into the endless Void, and Twilight felt a small emptiness deep in her chest.

Haggard voices began to cheer. The voices of her friends. Yet she found she couldn't join them. As Twilight released her hold on the Elements she collapsed into blissful oblivion. The stones beneath her felt as comforting as clouds as the world faded to grey, then to black.

35: Broken

The night was late, the moon presiding over a breathtaking array of twinkling stars. Canterlot had settled into a deep hush, the first chill of true winter threading through the gentle air. Windows were shuttered and bolted against the cold. Almost every house was dark, hearth fires extinguished, the streets empty. Precious few souls were still awake to appreciate the timeless beauty of this crystal clear night.

Fire still flickered in one fireplace, the orange flame clinging tenaciously to a pair of soot-black logs. Shadows cavorted across the features of a solitary mare, the corners of her eyes drawn with worry. Her purple mane was streaked with light grey, and she toyed absently with the ends, eyes distant. Half a glass of wine sat on the end table nearby, completely forgotten.

A rising murmur of distant voices stirred the night, brought crystal-blue eyes back into sharp clarity. Her ears perked, and the mare rested a hoof unconsciously on her collarbone as though she might slow the racing of her heart by holding it in.

The voices grew clearer as they approached her front door. One shrill voice in particular stood out. “Do you think they've got scones? SS totally got me hooked on scones.”

“How the hay should we know?” A more hushed voice with a distinct accent. “We've been gone fer months.” By the time the mare had recognized the voices as belonging to Twilight's friends she was already at the front door, flinging it open wide, startling the wild-maned pegasus who still had her hoof raised to knock.

A crowd of ponies clustered on her front lawn. A scattering of familiar faces, a quartet of stern-looking night guards, even Princess Luna, looking both regal and travel-worn beneath the light of her moon. “Greetings, Twilight Velvet. Pardon our late intrusion.”

The ruler's words went unheeded as a purple unicorn pushed forward between two other ponies, and suddenly the mare had locked her forearms into a firm embrace. “Oh Twilight. . .” She breathed. “My Twilight Sparkle, oh thank the sun and the moon. . .”

“Hi Mom.” Twilight returned the hug.

For a few precious heartbeats the low mutterings of respectful voices failed to intrude upon the sense of elation and relief. “Your father and I were worried sick. . .”

“I'm sorry Mom. Things. . . It took longer to get back than we'd planned.”

Pinkie's voice dwindled as she let herself into the house. “Plus the mission was kinda top secret and stuff.”

“Pinkie Pie!” Rarity admonished. “Wait for an invitation! Where are your manners?”

“But I'm feeling snacky!” Pinkie dismissed her friend's chagrin. “Besides, we're practically family, right?”

“I qualify as family!” Spike said with a smile. “Do come in, Ms. Pie, we've been expecting you.”

“Thank you!” Pinkie bounced backwards out of the house, then immediately bounced back in, accompanied by the little dragon.

Twilight Velvet blinked her eyes open to find an inexplicable mix of pleasure and deep, deep sorrow in Princess Luna's eyes. “With thy consent, Twilight Velvet, we should like to attend thy house. There is much we would relate to thee ere the dawn.”

Twilight Velvet reluctantly disentangled herself from the embrace. “Of course, please come in. Oh goodness. . .” She dabbed at her eyes. “I'm sorry. We've just been so worried after the incident, we. . .” Her words tapered off as she got her first good look at her daughter. She looked different. There were marks across her face, light vertical lines that looked like scars. Her mane and tail were surrounded by a faint nimbus of magic, and her horn looked somehow brighter, more translucent.

“Go wake Dad.” Twilight urged gently. “We have so much to tell you.”

Even though they elided most of the details, there was still quite a bit to tell. “That sounds unbelievable.” Twilight Velvet hadn't taken her eyes off her daughter in what felt like hours. “The strange ship, the storm, the Yami thing. . . are you certain it's dead?” Her voice trembled with worry.

The friends traded brief glances. “As certain as we can be.” Fluttershy said. “We're safe, at least.”

A stallion reached an azure hoof over to rest atop Twilight Velevt's. “Let them finish their tale, dear.”

Pinkie Pie spoke animatedly. “So, anyway, we totally had to fly around the gryphon kingdom, 'cause they were still feeling a little ornery,” She said around a mouthful of scone. Rarity had long since given up on trying to convince Pinkie to chew, swallow, then talk. “And everyone thought it was a good idea to not fly over any towns or stuff 'cause the airship is supposed to be a big surprise or secret or something so eventually we landed in the Everfree in a nice clearing Sun Shade found and -poof- Snowflake just ran off without even a growl of a goodbye!”

Applejack nudged her in the ribs. “If y'all are gonna talk with yer' mouth full, at least try an' inhale every now and then.”

“So, there's a large white wolf roaming the Everfree Forest?” Night Light asked.

Luna sipped her tea, concealing her vexation. “Yes. We are conducting sweeps, yet we fear 'tis for naught. This creature will not be found, should she truly endeavor to conceal herself.”

“So anyway,” Pinkie had been hijacking the conversation at regular intervals now. “We left Sun Shade and Pin Feather and Clear Sky at the palace with Celestia, and they're making her comfortable, as comfortable as they can manage, I guess, and they're asking us all to spend the night and maybe a day at the castle even though I'm awful homesick for Ponyville and Sugar Cube Corner and the Cake's cakes which even Dash says she misses right Dash?”

She glanced hopefully at the pegasus hoping for a response. Dash, for her part, was still fast asleep on the couch, snoring loudly.

“All I care about,” Twilight Velvet's eyes glared daggers into the Princess's forehead. “Is you finding a cure for my daughter.”

“Mom. . .” Twilight began.

“Whatever it takes.” She growled.

Night Light tried to ease her back too. “Dear, please.”

Luna didn't even twitch. “We will do everything in our power Twilight Velvet, rest assured. Meantime, these are national secrets.” Luna said, setting her tea down. “Please understand, thy discretion is essential. Thou art Twilight's parents, and deserved a measure of truth in light of Twilight's. . . condition.”

“Of course we understand.” Night Light nodded somberly. “And we'd appreciate anything you can do.”

Luna nodded, then rose to her feet as well. “Now we must insist we adjourn to the Royal Palace. Tomorrow promises to be most trying, and we have much to do.”

Later that evening, Twilight Sparkle turned away from a broad window, drawing opulent curtains behind her closed with a thought. She rolled her eyes at Spike, who sat wide-awake atop a massive bed, kicking his feet idly. “Don't you think you should at least try to sleep?”

“Shouldn't you?” He countered with an arched eyebrow.

“I wish I could, Spike.” She said with a sigh. “Looks like we're both going to be exhausted tomorrow.”

“It just feels kinda weird, you know?” Spike picked at a toe claw. “I guess I got used to the hum of the engine. The. . . the feeling that we were constantly moving somewhere.”

“Yeah.” Twilight agreed softly, taking in the elegant but strangely silent suite. She sat right where she was, in the middle of the floor, at a loss for what to do next. She felt physically exhausted, but her mind raced in circles. The moon shone full upon her as it slowly set, and Twilight caught herself toying with her mane. The ends had begun to drift in aetheric currents all on their own. Luna had assured her it would only get worse. “Everypony's probably going back to Ponyville tomorrow.”

“And you wish you were going too.” Spike finished for her.

Twilight nodded sadly. “Don't you feel homesick, like Pinkie?”

“Sure I do. But we're going to stay, right? At least for a little while. Princess Luna said its important you stay here. Canterlot has the best medical teams in Equestria, and. . .”

“I understand, Spike.” Twilight interjected heavily. “And I'm hopeful. I really am.”

“But you don't think they can fix whatever's wrong with you, do you?”

Twilight shrugged. “I don't know.” She glanced out of the window again, hoping to change the subject. Beyond the balcony sprawled the statue gardens, still under repair. “I can't believe Discord was freed again, and we weren't here to contain him. Luna was right to worry.”

“I can't believe Discord imploded because of Lyra!” Spike exclaimed. Twilight smiled her agreement as Spike slid off the bed and to his feet. “The only pony who's as soft-spoken as Fluttershy! I mean, wow.”

“I can't wait to talk to her, find out how she'd doing. I haven't been keeping in touch very well from Ponyville.” Twilight's drawn features brightened considerably. The moonlight delineated the hollowness of her cheeks, emphasizing the weight she'd lost over the past few months. But the light also glinted in her eyes, making them sparkle with renewed pleasure. “I can't wait to catch up with everypony here in Canterlot. Lyra and Moondancer and Minuette and my parents. . .”

“Heheheh.” Spike rolled his eyes. “I wonder how much cheek-pinching they're gonna try on you now that you're. . .” He gestured, indicating all of her.

“What?” Twilight arched an eyebrow playfully. “Facially scarred?”

“I was going to say a National Hero, but that's old news by now, isn't it?”

“Hero.” Twilight snorted. It was not very lady-like. “As if it wasn't a group effort every single time.”

“Group effort is right! It's not like I'm going to downplay my own contributions.” Spike replied loftily. “A shiny medal would be awesome.” He began marching around the room, chest puffed out. He spoke in the stuffiest voice he could muster. “I'm terribly sorry sir, the wait for a table will be between five-and-a-half and six. . . My word, is that master Spike? Right this way, your lordliship. We have ruby-encrusted danishes and. . .”

Twilight scooped him up mid-stride, hugging him close for a moment. Then her ears perked straight up. “You know, there's something I'd like to do. Something I haven't done in awhile. So long as we're both awake. . .”

Spike wiggled out of her grip, his scaled feet padding across the floor as he ran. From a shelf he retrieved a length of parchment and a quill.

Twilight smiled. “I didn't know my number one assistant could read minds. You're like a scaled super-hero!”

Spike took a bow, flourishing the quill as he dipped his head. “I think the Princess would love to get a letter from you.”

Twilight nodded her agreement, then cleared her throat.

Dear Princess Celestia,

You've always taught me that friendship and harmony were the strongest forces in our world. But that isn't always true, is it? There's Darkness out there, waiting for its chance, searching for a way in. And there's Darkness inside our own hearts, searching for a way out. If harmony isn't strong enough, then we need to be stronger. If I've learned anything on this trip, it's just how fragile our world is, how fragile we all are. I'm not sure how you stayed so strong all those years. But you're a beacon to me, shining bright, and that's why I've always looked up to you.

Equestria has changed since we left, hasn't it? The peace treaty with the changelings comes as a welcome surprise. I'm looking forward to all the intellectual discoveries we must be opening ourselves up to by negotiating with a brand new race of sentient beings. But the prospect of tension between Equestria and the Gryphon tribes is alarming. Here's hoping we can patch that political relationship up, right? Harmony can be exhausting, but its always worth fighting for.

Speaking of which, I think I may have done something to the Elements of Harmony. There was a moment where. . . where I had to pull the Darkness into myself, into the Elements, and to be honest I haven't had the courage to touch them again. I'm afraid of what I might discover. Is it even possible to change the nature of Harmony, the magical fabric of our world? I'm hoping that the academics here in Canterlot can help, but my guess is that nopony has the answers. I'm not sure what I could have done differently, and I know everypony says I saved their lives. But I'm still scared of the things I've done.

I'm not certain I can do what you do, being strong and staying in the light day after day. But I'm going to try. With your help, and with my wonderful friends, I'm going to try really hard. I'm just not sure how much I trust myself. I know you'd just say that you trust me. I can already hear your voice speaking those very words. So thank you, in advance.

Your faithful student,

Twilight Sparkle

Spike gave the ink a minute to dry, then he rolled the parchment up and held it between them. “Shall I do the honors?”

“Hmmm. . .” Twilight pondered. “Dawn isn't that far away. I'd like to deliver it myself.” She gave him a soft smile. “So long as you're actively flouting your bedtime, how would you feel about taking a little walk?”

Spike smiled in return.

The palace wasn't entirely silent. Bleary-eyes ponies could be seen dusting, tending to fireplaces, moving supplies in preparation for the coming day. The letter hovered above Twilight's horn, buoyed by her magical field. A low grumble reached her ears, and Spike clutched at his belly. “Can we stop by the kitchen first? I'm starving.”

“Sure.” Twilight smiled. The whelpling toddled ahead of her, certainty in his steps. Maybe it was the late hour. Maybe it was the vast relief of finally being home, or close to home, anyway. But the simple happiness she felt at having him by her side, alive and unharmed, swelled in her chest. Her eyes crinkled with a deep joy, and tears welled in the corners. “That sounds good to me, Spike.” He brought back so many good memories.

“We can just grab something quick from the fridges. I'm eager to check on the Princess too.” A soft, hollow sound echoed off the walls of the corridor, the sound of a roll of parchment hitting the marble floor. Twilight's hoof-steps stopped in the same instant, and the look of anticipation on Spike's face wilted.

It only took him a moment to master himself. “Twilight. . . again?” He sighed, turning around only when his face bore a brave smile. “You've got to stop doing this to yourself.” He said, without any expectation that he would be heard. Twilight's pupils had shrunk to pinpricks, and her eyes gazed off into the distance. The muscles of her face hung slack, empty. Her mind had vanished, slipping into a deep fissure of memory. Sometimes she'd be gone only moments. Sometimes. . .

Spike wedged himself behind her foreleg, and with a careful foot he pushed her knee forward, leaning into the top of her elbow at the same time. Once her weight shifted forward her legs began to move, an autonomic, unhurried walk that would continue until he stopped leaning into her. Spike already knew the stairs would be a problem, but he felt confident he could find someone to help. The palace was full of kind souls.

He was fortunate. Less than an hour later Twilight's eyes began to blink rapidly, and they drew back into focus. Her breathing hitched, and she shook her head gently. She became aware of cold, fresh air in her lungs, and the call of distant birds.

Spike had been dozing atop her back, but he awoke instantly, a sympathetic smile warming his features. “Welcome back, Space Cadet Sparkle.”

Twilight sighed. “Ugh, I'm sorry, Spike. . .”

“Oh, stick a spoon in it.” He said amicably, sliding off her back. “You don't have to go all mushy on me every time you turn into a vegetable.” He gestured with an outstretched claw, offering the letter to her.

They stood in the courtyard, just inside the front gates of the Royal Palace. The ornate fountain that, just the other day, had provided a serene resting area to every traveler and visitor passing through had been torn down, and the ghostly light of pre-dawn gave form and substance to a regal statue. A gentle alicorn who, even in death, appeared to be curled protectively around someone who was no longer in her embrace.

The gates surrounding the courtyard had been closed to the public for the night, but they wouldn't stay that way for long. Soon enough, the quiet space would be filled with ponies. There would be hushed murmurs, thick grief, respect, and threaded through it all a very real fear. Twilight could see it all playing out in front of her. Ponies would travel from every corner of Equestria, and they would all have the same burning question rising from their hearts. What happens now?

Twilight knew she couldn't abandon Princess Luna. Not now. Leaving the Princess alone with the combined weight of her sorrow, the burden of holding the country together, and dealing with the inevitable tide of well-meaning pilgrims? Ponyville would have to wait a while longer, even if her memories didn't swallow her whole every now and then. As the sun peeked over the distant horizon, Twilight took her letter and wedged it in the hollow beneath Celestia's upraised ankle.

Something shifted in Twilight's vision, the stone moving slightly, subtly. Twilight gasped in shock. But then she stood back, the hope instantly fading from her eyes. The statue only seemed to move thanks to the slowly shifting shadows, a trick of the sun's rising. She silently berated herself. It was just so hard to believe that Celestia would never move again.

The future stretched ahead of her, and for the first time it was a dark, hazy place. “Spike.” The dawn left her feeling strangely vulnerable. “I'm afraid.”

Spike threw his arms around Twilight's leg without a moment's hesitation. “I'm not.”

Prologue: Aether's Vigil

“I must say, it’s an unexpected surprise having you back aboard, Miss Shade. I’m not quite certain I’ve had the pleasure of stating that as yet.”

“Not for lack of opportunity. Also, isn’t every surprise unexpected by definition?”

“Indeed. I’m merely livening our current predicament with banter. Something I’d hope you’d appreciate.”

“Hmm, always. You know I thrive on wit. It makes me wonder why I seem to find myself engaged in conversations with you so very often.”

“Ah, touché.”

“However, you seem to be inferring that being wedged betwixt the frightfully unswept flooring and this monstrously ugly bit of machinery is the sole reason you are enjoying my company.”

“By my feathers, Miss Shade, I would have you infer no such thing and I resent the leveling of such accusations against my character.”

“Well, perhaps a thoughtful complement might alleviate my doubt and distract me from my current discomfiture.”

“Certainly. It has never been my style to dismiss a lady’s request.”

“Then let us hear it.”

“I was just giving thought to the subtle perfume you’ve no doubt acquired sometime over the last two years. Photo De Gio, if I’m not mistaken.”

“You aren’t. How delightful! I gather from your tone that it’s amenable?”

“Quite. I admit I was taken with it when you first stepped aboard my airship. . .”

“Your airship?”

“The airship. Anyhow, the fact that it reaches my nares despite the nearby fuel leak brings me a measure of solace.”

“Charming. I daresay I believe you, Thistle.”

“Oh. Are we back to first-name basis again so soon, Miss Shade?”

“One would hope so, considering events. You have no doubt registered the altering of gravity’s pull.”

“Well, the explosion clearly knocked out the power to the turbines. I will grant you that. However, that it didn’t ignite the fuel lines seems quite the stroke of good luck to me. And by the way, my airship. . .”

“Your airship?”

“The airship is entirely sea-worthy. There’s every chance we will survive, so one wonders why the sudden morbid turn of conversation?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s something to do with being pinned beneath the servo housing for said turbine. Consider it one of my personal quirks.”

“Of course. I must have mistaken your invitation to investigate a strange rapid ticking noise in the aft section of the engine room for a sense of adventure.”

“On the contrary, Sir Thistle Down, my quite seemly desire to investigate said noise should indicate the opposite. An adventure of this nature was just what I was hoping to avoid.”

The tawny gryphon tried to crane his neck backwards far enough to see the magenta colored earth pony trapped behind him, but all he could glimpse was a lock of black mane. “Ah. I see.” He said. “Please accept my most genuine apologies.”

“That explosion has thoroughly unbalanced the delicate truce I’d achieved between myself and my mane.” Sun Shade announced. “When the rescue team frees us. . .”

“Unless they’re at emergency stations. You understand, the whole ‘falling from the sky’ bit.”

“They can’t all be occupied with emergency protocol at once. And if they are. . . well, what a ghastly oversight.” The pony managed to sound charmingly annoyed with the thought. “Nevertheless, when they free us my first order of business will be to visit storage.”

“Storage? From the state of this floor I would have placed a solid wager on a bath. Assuming, as I do, that you will lack the good sense to see Pin Feather in the infirmary straight away.”

“You are partly right, Thistle. I merely require my Mareson Junior Mixture Bristle and Nylon Hair Brush tucked in with my effects.”

“Such an important-sounding implement of personal care? You mean to say it isn’t in your quarters?”

“No. It is most certainly amongst my effects.” A determined note of excitement crept into her voice. “However, since I’ll be down there anyhow, I can pry through the crew’s belongings and see if I can find evidence as to who has livened our afternoon so.”

The edges of Thistle Down’s beak curled up in a smile he knew his companion couldn’t see. “That’s terribly useful of you, well done. If you still have your ocular spectrometer, I’d point out the distinct lack of smoke and the acrid scent left behind from the detonation.”

“You believe we’re looking for traces of guncotton?”

“You’re as sharp as ever, Miss Shade. I’ll see to it the crew stays out of your mane.”

“Aren’t you taking the easier of the two jobs then, considering how distracted everyone likely is at the moment? Any decent gentlecolt would offer to trade.”

“It’s a shame I’m not a colt, it would seem. And secondly, I should think you’d want to feel useful, and denying you this opportunity would be frightfully uncouth of me, wouldn’t you agree?”

Thistle could hear the smile in her voice. “Of course not! How could you say such a thing! Now I will simply have to find the traitor in our midst to spite you. Or perhaps I will faint. I haven’t decided yet which.”

Thistle sighed, and a grim edge slid into his voice. “I really thought I could trust this crew. Those half-plucked Tarsonists just don’t know when to quit.”

“Don’t you mean ‘arsonists’?” It was a little joke between them. “Well, we shall just have to be cleverer in the future. We can’t let this sort of thing happen with Celestia on board, can we? Just think of the scandal!”

“Ah yes, the scandal. Of course,” he said drily. “As is, the repairs alone may set her a few days behind schedule, which may be bad enough. I confess I do not look forward to explaining all this to her Royal Highness.”

“Pish posh. Celestia will understand. She’s marvelously unflappable.” Sun Shade paused as something beneath them hummed to life and the weight pressing them to the floor grew noticeably heavier. “Oh, did you feel that? I think we’re leveling out! Quick, help me shift this mess.”

“Finally.” The gryphon moved his forearms to brace them against the large metal cylinder as best he could and waited. As the airship leveled out and course-corrected, the added weight vanished and for a brief moment they all became lighter. With a well timed shove the metal detritus moved, freeing the pair, before crashing back to the floor. The magenta earth pony climbed carefully to her hooves, trying in vain to fluff out her lustrous black tail and brush the dust off of her cutie mark: a sturdy-looking parasol. The tan and brown gryphon next to her stood more gingerly, favoring his right wing.

Sun Shade generally trotted through life with a bemused gleam in her eye, a look as though she were secretly laughing at some unknown joke. This gleam disappeared as she turned to consider her companion. “You made no mention of being hurt!”

Part of his right wing stuck into the air at an odd angle, and there was blood smeared through his feathers. Thistle Down, despite the apparent pain, smiled slyly. “You never asked.”

Sun Shade arched an eloquent eyebrow. “Your wing looks to be in rough shape. Would one could say the same for your tongue.”

He clucked in disapproval. “Now now, civility if you please. I’m a war hero, see? Injured upon the field of battle, as it were. No pony of class such as yourself would want to be quoted as saying such things, would they?”

She looked her friend in the eye. “Will you be okay?”

“Of course I will. Now you run along. I’ll take a poke around here and see what I can turn up. You, as I recall, have other tasks to tend to.”

Sun Shade looked downward and sighed heavily before turning to the door to the engine room and departing. Thistle turned his attention to the ceiling, studying the marks left by the two small detonations that almost surgically removed a part of the airship’s inner workings. It was classy, as sabotage goes. Not nearly enough explosive to greatly endanger anyone, or even the ship itself. Just the right placement and force to ground the bird, so to speak. That eliminated a couple of suspects right there. Pin Feather, for example, didn’t know enough of the airship’s inner workings to boil water. After committing what details he could to memory, he set off to find his oldest friend.

“Ok, so I got everyone onto the bridge like you asked, except Sun Shade, but Clouded Gaze is livid. She says she’ll take this airship right into the sea if we don’t get everyone out of her way soon.” Pin Feather stood noticeably shorter than Thistle Down, and looked noticeably more worried. “To be quite frank, I believe her. Sir.”

“You know I hate it when you call me ‘sir.’” Thistle snarled through the pain as he limped down the port row of cabins, his blunted talons clicking against the metal floor.

“And ‘sir’ you shall remain until you let me get a look at your bloody wing, you stubborn pigeon.”

“In time, old friend. In time.” Thistle reached the door to the bridge and flung it open dramatically. All manner of conversation stopped as twelve heads turned to look in his direction. The airship crew was a scattered mix of ponies and gryphons, although there were more beaks than manes this time out. Three heads did not turn to watch Thistle’s entrance, one of them being a grim grey and steel colored gryphon gripping the flight wheel. The other two, a small white-feathered gryphon and a deep-blue unicorn, were clearly focused on feeding power to the turbines with magic. An exhausting task, and one that probably couldn’t be duplicated by anyone else aboard. Thistle hoped that they could bring his ship back to dock before they collapsed.

Thistle limped into the room, pitching his voice into a menacing growl. “Cloud, cut power to the auxillary fuel pumps.”

“Aye Captain.”

Thistle turned to address the crew. “You’re probably all wondering why our. . .”

“Hey! I found him!” Pin Feather bounced and pointed at the larger, tawny gryphon. “Now we can get started! So, don’t steer us into the ocean, ‘kay Cloud?”

“I’ll think about it.” Clouded Gaze said gruffly, not taking her eyes off of the horizon visible through the large windows in front of her.

Thistle turned a dangerous glare upon Pin Feather. Pin Feather shrank away, and then offered a rather overlarge smile. Thistle continued. “. . .Why our ship here decided to fall from the sky. It wasn’t mechanical failure.” He paused for effect and turned to reveal his still bleeding and clearly broken wing. “It was sabotage.”

Gasps and general murmurs erupted. Clouded Gaze shook her head in disappointment, as though she’d suspected it from the start. And she probably did. This wasn’t the first airship flight that had been undermined by the Brotherhood of Reformed Tarsonites. One of the crew asked, “Any idea who’s responsible?”

“Absolutely,” Thistle lied. “We know exactly who planted those charges. And that’s why we’re all going to sit tight until we hit dock.”

As if on cue, the door burst open again, and Sun Shade stepped in. Half of the crew gasped in shock. Sun Shade glanced around, startled, before realizing she was still wearing her ocular spectrometer; a device comprised of various lenses suspended and toggled within an amber fluid. She had entered looking like some sort of mechanical vagabond. With a practiced twitch, she slid the device off the end of her nose where it hung by its strap. She immediately gestured towards a deep muddy-brown pegasus on the far side of the room. “Clear Sky? Would you mind describing to us all why your locker is covered with traces of nitric acid?”

The pony’s eyes grew wide with shock. “I. . . what?”

“Grab him!” Thistle shouted, as crew members turned and pounced on him. He offered no resistance.

“Wait! There’s been some kind of mistake!” Clear Sky looked around in a panic. “It wasn’t me, Captain! I swear it!”

“Take him to the hold and chain him to something!” Thistle growled. “The rest of you? Get back to work!” Sun Shade backed primly out of the way as the crew flooded past, practically carrying the makeshift prisoner between them. Thistle turned, giving them all a minute to disperse before following them slowly out of the bridge. Sun Shade and Pin Feather followed him closely. Once the door closed behind them and the three of them were alone, Thistle dropped his dramatic tone. And his limp.

Sun Shade nodded her approval while adjusting the bags cinched about her middle. “A clever and subtle ruse, creating tension amongst the crew.” She remarked as she fell into step alongside the airship captain. “One might assume you’ve done all this before.” She smirked.

“Yes, and I grow tired of it.” Thistle agreed.

“Hey! You can walk just fine!” Pin Feather accused softly, glancing around for eavesdroppers and trying to keep up.

“Naturally.” Thistle Down responded.

“So.” Sun Shade said nonchalantly. “That implies you are aware that Clear Sky is innocent, yes?”

“I had gathered that.” Thistle sighed.

“He’s what?” Pin Feather squeaked.

“My question is, how did you?” Thistle inquired.

“Oh, the frame was entirely too sloppy.” Sun Shade sniffed. “No saboteur worth the name would leave behind such a mess.”

Thistle nodded. “I believe I can narrow down our search, but I’d like your take on the evidence.”

Sun Shade smiled as though it were a grand compliment. “Certainly.”

Pin Feather sputtered a bit before clamping his beak shut and glaring at the pair walking ahead of him.

They reached the engine room before long, the trio pausing before opening the door. Pin Feather had a faraway look in his eyes, and he began slowly reaching a foreclaw towards his captain’s side. Thistle was busy speaking softly to Sun Shade. “Now, when we enter look for faint markings around where the charges were set. I’d like to know if you see what I SQUAAARRK!” And Thistle Down dropped to the floor like a net full of fish.

“I’m sorry!” Pin Feather squeaked. “I’m so sorry! I just thought, you know, you might have been faking the wing injury too.” Thistle picked himself up off the floor, glaring daggers the whole time, but as his breathing slowed, his eyes unfocused. Then he raised an eyebrow and nodded, conceding the point.

Sun Shade rolled her eyes in exasperation and pushed her way into the engine room. “Let’s move quickly, if you both please. The longer you force me to wait to brush this mane out, the greater your odds of spontaneously acquiring cranial injuries.” She stood beneath the damage, sparing an angry glance for the fallen piece of machinery beside her. She gestured to the space in front of her. “Pin Feather, if you please.”

“Oh. Um, sure.” Pin Feather walked to the spot she indicated and crouched, spreading his wings for balance.

Sun Shade leapt lightly atop his back and stood carefully on her hind legs, reaching towards one of the charred spots on the ceiling. After a moment, she made a prim, frustrated sound and placed her spectrometer back on her face. “Yes. I see them! Fine scratches, four of them, in the metal.”

Thistle growled deep in his throat. “We are clearly looking for a gryphon. And one who isn’t a tinker.” For effect, he held up his own talons, which had been carefully filed down to dull tips and overlaid with fine strips of rubber to steady an engineer’s grip.

Pin Feather glanced down at his own dulled foreclaws. “Well, that narrows it down.” he said. “We have, what, four on board?”

“Five.” Thistle said. “Including Cloud.”

“Sure, I guess. But you don’t really suspect Cloudster, do you?” Pin Feather sounded doubtful.

“Not really.” Thistle conceded with a smile. “Not unless I caught her with a bomb and a startled expression. And maybe not even then.”

“Hush.” Sun Shade didn’t sound panicked, just impatient. “There’s more.” She leapt down and reached into one of the bags slung across her flank, withdrawing a cloth pouch. She opened the drawstring with her teeth, then grabbed Thistle’s right foreclaw and plunged it into the opening, releasing a puff of black dust. When he withdrew, all of his digits were colored a deep grey. Thistle nodded his approval as Sun Shade closed the bag and offered it to him.

He plucked it out of her grasp, turned and pushed it against the bulkhead like he expected it to stick there. It didn’t, but his charcoal-coated talons left distinct marks against the metal wall. Sun Shade nodded decisively and wiped the marks off with a white cloth she’d produced, quickly stashing everything back into her packs. “The angles are off.” She announced as she turned to leave.

“So, the charges were placed with the left foreclaw?” Thistle Down asked.

“Both of them.” She confirmed as the door swung shut behind her.

Thistle’s smile turned predatory. “Gotcha.”

“Huh.” Pin Feather squinted up at the scorch marks on the ceiling, then back at the now blank wall. “That’s very clever. Now, if you don’t let me set your wing properly, I’ll be forced to sing to you. Loudly. And at length.”

The sun had just reached the horizon, filling the sky with brilliant reds and purples. Shadows along the coast melded together, preparing for their slow invasion of the lands beyond. Millennia of relentless surf wearing away at the grim stone had produced a vast stretch of gnarled, textured shoreline interspersed with coastal islands ranging from tiny nubs to forested mountains. Aether’s Vigil swept towards the largest of these rugged islands as a large, flat landing pad parted down the middle, revealing an elaborate cradle comprised of metal arms shaped like ribs adorned with soft rubber wheels. The airship adjusted itself a couple of times, coming to rest in the center of the massive braces, bringing the deck of the airship down to within a talon’s length of the surrounding platform. Flags were waved, hoses and wires were connected, and somewhere on the bridge a gryphon with some magical skill and a unicorn collapsed, exhausted.

Sun Shade stood by the metal rail, ready to disembark. Her mane and tail back under control, she’d donned an elegant umbrella of her own design to keep the sun’s glare out of her eyes. A cluster of airship crewmembers gathered on the deck behind her, holding a stunned-looking Clear Sky between them. His wings were taped to his sides and his forelegs were hobbled. Sun Shade disengaged the latches before the airship had even come to rest and hopped down to the platform the moment it was safe to do so. A quartet of stern-looking unicorns wearing the Royal Seal of Canterlot approached, and Sun Shade whispered to them urgently. The crew started forward together, ushering their prisoner between them as they stepped off of the airship. Thistle kept pace with them from behind. As he stepped down off the deck he pitched his voice loudly. “Guards! I trust you have accommodations suitable for a traitor.”

As the cordon parted, shoving the bound blue-maned pegasus from behind, the guards stepped around him and pounced upon the dull-green gryphon who had been to his left. Pin Feather leapt nimbly out of their way as the guards bound their new prisoner with glowing strands of magic. The affronted gryphon didn’t struggle. He just set his beak in a grim line, taking in the startled expressions on his crewmates' faces. Thistle paced around to look the gryphon in the eye. “Dusk Wing, you are hereby charged with sabotage and treachery against a foreign leader. Not to mention a clumsy attempt to frame an innocent pegasus. What say you?” Dusk Wing kept his head up, said nothing and glared. Thistle leaned in closer and dropped his voice. “I trusted you.”

The gryphon’s stoic mask melted into anger. He lashed his tail as he said, “You know why. Everyone here knows why. Yet you heathen tinkers persist in trying to cross the ocean.”

Thistle glanced at the pony guards and tilted his head, clearly indicating that they should take him away. “Yes, we’ve heard it all before.”

Dusk Wing’s anger crumbled into uncertainty and fear as the armored guards forced him stumbling into motion. “We aren’t meant to cross the divide. You test the will of the Ancients! You damn us all to corruption and blackness! You will return as creatures of nightmare!”

Thistle Down turned his back on the increasingly hysterical diatribe to regard the remainder of his crew. He gestured to a relieved-looking brown pegasus and said, “Pin Feather, would you mind cutting our friend here loose? I do believe he’s worn these long enough.”

“Right!” Pin Feather bounded forward and began using the inner edge of a talon to carefully cut the tape off of Clear Sky’s midsection. Another crewmate started taking the hobbles off.

Thistle sounded clearly apologetic. “Thank you, Sky. Allowing you to be framed helped us keep Dusk Wing from bolting before we could pin down the necessary evidence.”

The amber-eyed pegasus nodded, smiling. “Of course, Captain. But you really had me going there for awhile.”

Thistle glanced upward at the massive steel crane secured atop the deck of the airship. “The work crew will be up shortly with a list of parts they’ll need. I suspect the solenoids are shot, and they’ll need all new servos and servo housing. Run the crane to load the new parts for them before you take shore leave.”

“Yes sir.” Clear Sky flexed his wings, stretching them out before launching himself back aboard the deck of the airship.

“The rest of you, shore leave until Her Royal Highness Princess Celestia arrives, then you are to reassemble here the following morning at dawn. Dismissed.”

The crew saluted and dispersed. As the sun began to properly set, Sun Shade and Pin Feather moved to stand by Thistle’s side as he stared out over the ocean. Sun Shade took her umbrella off of her head and folded it up. A cunning strap of her own make allowed her to throw it stylishly over one shoulder. She sighed. “It’s a right shame he didn’t put up a fight. I didn’t even get to use my parasol.”

Pin Feather chuckled. “You are quite dangerous with that thing.”

Sun Shade accepted the compliment wordlessly and with ladylike grace. Thistle, however, hadn’t moved. She nodded in understanding. “The next time we take Aether’s Vigil to the sky, it won’t be for a test run, will it?”

“So many years.” Thistle Down’s voice grew husky with longing. “So many years of building and testing and refining. Piloting my ship to places everyone has already been. Finally, we’ll get to see something new. We get to explore.”

Pin Feather nodded in agreement. “Even if half the population assumes we’ll kill every living thing by trying.”

“Paugh. Those ignorant, cowardly superstitious Tarsonites. . .”

“Reformed Tarsonites.” Sun Shade corrected. “It’s an important distinction, you know. No gryphon of class such as yourself would want to be quoted as saying such things, would they?” She grinned devilishly. “Like calling it your ship when clearly Princess Celestia has paid for most of it.”

“Well, Celestia hasn’t spent the time with her that I have.” He mumbled, gesturing towards the airship behind him. “Anyhow, the Reformed Tarsonites don’t make up half the population around here, and even if they did they’d be wrong. The ancient texts are just stories from an old set of scrolls, nothing more.”

“And here we are about to violate every one of their sacred beliefs. I can’t imagine what they’re upset about.” Pin Feather shrugged.

Thistle cocked a smile at him. “I daresay this is not my call. If Celestia says it’s time to put this thing to use, who am I to argue? And if I hadn’t known you my whole life Pin Feather, I’d think you were trying to defend those crazy zealots.”

“Not at all.” Pin Feather replied honestly. “Just trying to understand them, Sir.”

“Don’t call me ‘sir,’ Pins.”

“Anything you say, Sir.”

Shore leave wasn’t a terribly exciting thing, considering that no one was allowed to depart the island, from the Director to the engineers to the cleaning crew. But they each had their own quarters, and as the crew of Aether’s Vigil got some well deserved rest, Thistle lay awake reviewing ship manifests by candlelight. Sun Shade also couldn’t sleep, and as she lay in her bed she kept reliving the exciting moments of the day, thinking how much more interesting this posting was compared to being an ambassador to the gryphon noble court far to the northwest. She solved a crime her first week here, for pony’s sake. She grinned to herself and kicked at the air in a most undignified fashion.

Not far away, Pin Feather poked his head out of the door to his chamber and looked around. Seeing that the coast was clear, he slipped into the corridor and focused on a spell he’d learned years ago. A spell that the majority of gryphons, and even most unicorns would find impossible. After a moment's concentration his form shimmered and vanished completely from sight. Once he snuck his way outside he took to the wing, flying tight circles to gain altitude without crossing paths with the flight patrols. Veils were rarely perfect, and Pin Feather had to work really hard to maintain his.

Once he was high enough that the island was just a dot beneath his wings, and the air grew thin, he angled south along the coast, resting his wings by trading a little altitude for speed. He waited a long one-hundred count after losing sight of the island before he dropped his veil and focused on landmarks. Eventually a sprawling watercourse led him inland, and two freshwater lakes adjusted his course until he landed in a small, nondescript clearing, in the middle of which there was a moderately sized hole angled into the ground. Nothing else existed to indicate this was anyplace special, but the gryphon tucked his wings in close and crawled inside.

He made his way through tunnels and chambers splattered with green resin, ignoring the scattered chitters and snarls from vague shapes hidden in the darkness. Despite the complete lack of light, Pin Feather moved with confidence, eventually coming to the deepest chamber where he stopped and closed his eyes. There was a flash of green light, a burst of power surrounding Pin Feather’s form, briefly revealing several hundred black shapes curled up around the edges of the chamber, every one of them a respectful distance from the middle, where a misshapen black dais loomed. In a moment, Pin Feather’s entire form had changed. His fur and feathers had been replaced with slick black chitin, his warm brown eyes replaced with pupil-less blue orbs, his beak replaced with pallid fangs as the darkness closed in again. Atop his head a small black horn protruded.

Pin Feather bowed low and stayed there. His voice now buzzed and hummed with multiple frequencies, and it resonated with reverence. “The saboteur has been taken, my Queen.”

A bodiless voice drifted from the dais. This voice also buzzed, but it was richer, more textured. And it was decidedly female. “I see. Then the path before us is clear. You know your mission. Carry it out.”

“Aether’s Vigil will be sky-worthy within the week, my Queen.”

“Hmmmm.” The disembodied voice grew pensive. “That is time enough, but we can purchase ourselves more to be certain. I have spent far too long laying these plans. I have no intention of wasting this opportunity.” Unseen in the darkness, the vague shape atop the dais shifted and cracked, unfurling into a black figure of grace and power. It stretched, scattering dust and flakes of resin around itself. “Celestia will make her move now. She no longer has a choice.” And there in the deep blackness, Queen Chrysalis grinned fiercely. “Dear, sweet, radiant Celestia. This is going to break. Your. Heart.”

Celestial Interlude

The morning of the trip, before the dawn and before any resident of Ponyville had left their homes, Celestia’s personal train clickety-clacked down the tracks far from any town or city. It had left the night before, after Princess Celestia had entrusted the capitol city and the responsibility for raising the sun to her sister Luna.

Celestia opened the door to her room and stepped into the narrow aisle connecting the dining car in front with the luggage car behind. As usual for the night shift, one of her bodyguards rested while the other stood guard. The unicorn on duty saluted. “Good morning, your Highness. Should I rouse the wait staff?”

Celestia nodded. “That would be lovely. Perhaps some watercress and tea.”

“Certainly, your Highness.” As he turned towards the front of the train car he nudged his sleeping companion in the ribs. The leaner unicorn startled awake and glanced around before scrambling to his feet and saluting the Princess, the dignity of his station belied by his somewhat askew helmet. The first bodyguard chuckled to himself and made his way ahead to the dining car and the kitchen car ahead of it.

Celestia nodded to her second bodyguard and said with a smile, “As you were.”

He lowered his hoof and began adjusting himself, setting his armor straight. Celestia turned to regard the window and the brightening sky beyond it. The train tracks were leading them somewhat north of east, and Celestia fancied she would be able to make out the first sliver of sunrise without walking up to the engine. With a tiny expenditure of magic, she opened the window closest to her so she could see the horizon better. The wind fluttered and gusted around Celestia’s mane, bringing in the sharp, clean scent of pine trees. She sighed.

“Is everything okay, your Highness?” The bodyguard walked up to stand beside the Princess and followed her gaze. He was taller than average, but Celestia still had to look downwards to glance at him. Maybe there had been a little touch of sadness in her sigh. She smiled to herself and swept her gaze back out to the east. Her bodyguard glanced up at her expression and nodded in understanding. “Oh, of course. The sun. You know, I didn’t know Princess Luna even could raise the sun.” He chuckled a bit. “It must sound silly, but I’d always just assumed she could only work the night. Um, your Highness.”

Celestia offered him a reassuring smile. “I don’t think that sounds silly at all. Preconceived notions can be powerful things.” Celestia knew he was just trying to get her to stop worrying, and she appreciated the attempt. It was a kind sentiment. “I’m not concerned that she can’t do it. I guess I’m only curious to see it the way everypony else sees it.”

Her bodyguard smiled and nodded. Just then, Celestia felt another surge of unease. On a hunch, she turned and looked behind them in time to catch a glimpse of movement. It came from the window set in the door to the luggage car. Celestia craned her neck to get a better look and caught a glimpse of icy, pale blue. Celestia frowned. “Has anypony come back this way recently?” Celestia began walking towards the rear of the car.

Her bodyguard tried to keep up. “No, your Highness. Stal would have woken me up, I’m sure of it.” He glanced through the window to the next train car and darted ahead to open the door for the Princess.

Celestia stalked into the doorway to find a member of the serving staff standing just beyond the end door, out in the wind, staring backwards down the tracks. Celestia called out. “Winter Sage!” It was both a demand and a warning. The pale blue earth pony turned around, and stared at Celestia with blank eyes. Without hesitation, the staff pony threw itself to the side, off of the train and out of Celestia’s line of sight. By the time the Princess emerged onto the slim rear platform, there was no sign of anyone back there, and no body along the tracks behind them. As the sun peeked unnoticed over the horizon behind her, Celestia’s eyes widened and her pupils contracted with terror. She didn’t have to glance through the luggage car to see what had been taken. She knew who was responsible, what they wanted, and what would happen next. She also knew she only had moments left to save the lives of the rest of her crew. “With me!” She cried, turning and galloping towards the engine. She only hoped she wasn’t already too late.

Magic's Requiem

Floating.

Floating and silence.

Silence so absolute it’s loud as a roar.

Drowning out the world.

Solitude overwhelms other sensations.

Like being underwater.

Falling.

Half-remembered laughter becomes crystalline scorn.

The sharp stab of betrayal causes tremulous fear to bleed into rage.

The space between any two hearts holds every peak, every valley, and every desolate waste as a harsh possibility.

Friendship discovered afresh is akin to magic.

That friendship betrayed is the great hammer that shatters innocence upon the harsh anvil of reality.

That friendship lost is the first icy, bitter taste drawn from the deep cup of despair.

The world has gone, the sun and moon vanished.

One needs simple things to howl one’s agony to the stars.

Things like lungs and air and stars.

But the cluttered mess of existence had been cleaned up so thoroughly its absence could no longer be mourned.

Could no longer be mourned.

Epilogue: Voices in Darkness

“They bought it. They all completely fell for it! Paugh, no matter how much time I spend up there, I am constantly amazed by how anile and witless those ponies are.”

“I told you they would. And you, my dear, played your part perfectly.”

“Luna will hunt you, you know. She wont believe for one moment that you were defeated by a bunch of impotent fools.”

“Now now, Chryssie-poo, Luna has her hooves full. And besides, she can't hunt what she cant see. . .”

“Still, she wont believe that you just. . . disappeared into thin air.”

“Now that, my dear, will be the one thing she does believe. Besides, what do you care, hmmmmm? Are you honestly worried about widdle-old me? Have you actually discovered the magic of friendship?”

“Hmph. All of my plans are coming together perfectly. The Element of Deception is in my possession, Celestia has been removed, the citizens of Canterlot actually seem to trust me, and with the smallest nudge we can plunge Equestria into war the likes of which it hasn't seen in centuries. Mmmmm. . . Imagine the chaos. . . Imagine the despair. . .”

“I already have.”

“Then why didn't you imagine the Elements of Harmony surviving your silly chess moves? You do realize those fickle ponies still have a weapon they can use against you, right?”

“Ugh, don't remind me. That useless waste Teryn had so much power at his disposal! That he couldn't destroy so much as a single wretched Element of Harmony just. . . what a vast disappointment he was. Oh well, I'll simply have to lie low for awhile longer.”

“Mmmhehehahah! I guess you don't know everything after all, do you?”

“Well, Mother's teeth have finally been removed from this world, that should buy me another eon or two of playtime. But. . . oh, you should see what else I have planned. Yes, you can keep your tiny wars and petty conquests. In time you will see the true culmination of my designs!”

“And my children will remain unharmed. . . right Discord? That was our bargain!”

“Unharmed. . . Sure! Absolutely! Undoubtedly and indubitably! After all. . . You can trust me.”