Panthalassa

by WritingSpirit

Rating: teen
Tags: Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Original Character, Moondancer, Science Fiction, Suicide / Self Harm, Tragedy, Horror, Violence, Death, Twilight Sparkle
Length: 19355

The oceans remained one of the Equestian world's unsolved mysteries, of which Professor Moondancer intends to solve. In the wake of a miracle, she'll find the answers she needs, along with the only truth left in the world worth knowing.

The ocean remains to be the greatest mystery left unsolved in the world. Intent on cracking the case wide open, Professor Moondancer took it upon herself to figure it out, following in the first steps of so many who had failed to do so before her. As the questions began piling in and all seemed lost, however, there came a miracle, and with it, comes knowledge that had never seen the light of day.

With it, comes the answers she needs to understand everything.

With it, comes the only truth left worth knowing.

WARNING: this story goes into much darker, much grosser, much weirder and, on all aspects, more graphically descriptive in later chapters. If the idea of Lovecraftian body horror alone, among many other grotesque things, does not appeal to you, then I advise you to stay far, far away from this story.

This story is Cthulhu-free, despite it seeming otherwise.

Published 2018-05-03 22:20:07 UTC
Last updated 2018-09-20 22:27:32 UTC

I

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I

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If you are reading this, and I pray to all the world's watchful deities that you are not, it will mean that something terrible had happened to me and, despite my best attempts otherwise, it may soon happen to you and to all that is around you. I have written this in hopes that should I not see this to the end, there can be others who will take my place, and it is only with this precaution in place that my worries regarding the rate of success of my current venture can be alleviated. I should note, however, that as of the time I'm writing this sentence, my aforementioned warning remains uncertain, and as such may be negligible. In spite of that, I trust in the judgment of you, the reader, on whether my warning should be sternly heeded by the conclusion of this chronicle. I believe that by the very end of my account, you, the reader, will make the right decision.

I should preface this by explaining that all that you are and will be reading are a transcript of my thoughts, written out by a quill imbued with a spell that translates one's own cogitations and inner locutions onto paper. I had done so as there are circumstantial experiences that one may never truly capture following their passing, and for the sake of accuracy, I had concluded this to be the best and most feasible method to relay any information to fully translate any breakthroughs in my research into paper. I shall, however, apologize, should any of my future ruminations be clouded by my personal feelings within any of my future endeavors. It is on that note that I shall officially begin with how my current venture arose in the first place.

When ponies speak of the ocean, there always was an air of praise that came with it, whether it be endearing or terrifying. The great blue excites many a pony of Equestria, perhaps even extending to other races beyond its borders, particularly to those that already dwells within its waters. It coaxes from us a curious desire: the want to be amazed, to be marveled, to embrace the ebb and flow of the tides between our hooves, to bask in the echoes of its aquatic susurrations. It draws forth from our lips the dictions of wonder and merriment, tinged with a light hint of yearning, and it will make even the most stoic of ponies tremble in awe, without fail. Such is the ocean, breathtaking and blissful, this grandiose reverie. It was no surprise then that, with all its mystique, it had evoked a curious desire in the inquiring mind to understand it.

There had been many an inquiring mind. Many, who strove to understand the logic of the ocean, whose work built upon the knowledge of the ocean to where it was today. Nevertheless, despite abundant in the most exquisite depictions of its physics and mathematics, this bibliographical fortress bears no volumes that rationalized the majesty of this constant aberration within the axioms of the known universe. There remained only mere fragments of hypotheses, never a complete collection that justifies the ideals of admiration regarding the ocean. Many argued about the necessity, or lack thereof, of understanding its existence. Few had strived for understanding it within the boundaries of universal law, though those few could be construed as a rather silent bunch, forcibly so or otherwise.

Indeed, one would reasonably conclude then that the ocean has its own secrets to keep.

That occurred as a passing thought to me, the mare who calls herself Moondancer. Bespectacled and blessed with the bountiful bouquet that is friendship, the latter of which she had realized belatedly, I came upon that notion during a trip to the beach organized by my friends, and though I now sorely wished she had turned down the invitation, I just couldn't help myself upon realizing that I would be joined by a certain Princess of Friendship. She rarely finds the time to attend these functions of ours, as she would often be preoccupied with duties as royalty so often do, but when she does, it's always a little more of an exhilarating occasion, or at least for me personally. It was an opportunity I couldn't afford to miss, for I had many a personal inquiry I had wished to broach with the princess, and it was with that in mind that I agreed to take up on that offer.

Looking back, I can say it's proof once again that Twilight Sparkle was always a pleasure to talk to.

Friendship, of course, came before anything else. Apart from her and me, there was everyone else: Minuette, Twinkleshine, Lemon Drops and Lyra with her plus one— Bon Bon, I think her name was if I remembered it correctly. Suffice to say, with all the company, the hours of our first afternoon were spent away, vigorously so. I never minded the lost time, for we would be spending several days at the beach, after all. Time is in abundance, as are the opportunities flowering in its embrace. Nevertheless, though I had no doubt that I've enjoyed our activities wholeheartedly, I preferred something quieter, something less strenuous. Twilight, of course, was all too perceptive of that; you could imagine my surprise when, partway during our volleyball session, she swayed to my side with a smile, pleasant as ever despite being drenched in sweat and sea spray.

"Looks like we both could use a break or two," I remembered those sweet words singing in my ears. "Wanna talk?"

A lame nod from me sufficed. Resting beneath our parasols, we were soon deep in conversation, with topics ranging from our time back in magic school to the Canterlot Royal Society's hypotheses regarding the concepts of a grand, unified field of magic — a theory aiming to merge the inherent magic of every species into a single, unified force — involving recent experiments looking into a successful hybridization between unicorn magic and dragon fire. That topic, in particular, took up the bulk of our conversation, as I was a part of the aforementioned Royal Society and thus had the unfettered access to all the details regarding the findings of my colleagues' research. It was only until near the end of the day, when we're all lounging in the sand and stared at the constant horizon, that she pertained to the ocean.

"Breathtaking, isn't it?"

Figuratively and literally, as I would think. Celestia forbids anyone else shares my morbid perspective. Of course, I refrained from uttering it aloud before the princess, instead nodding silently in agreement. My eyes had long since trailed from the scenery and to the princess by my side, and for a moment most magnificent, they lingered. "It's wonderful," I remarked, quickly returning my gaze forward before Twilight could rear her head. "Then again, it always is, isn't it? No matter how you look at it, the ocean always seems so... majestic."

Her irises, pleasant and precious, fell towards me. A smile burst forth — one I had pined for and thus easily reciprocated — before she returned her violet eyes to the ocean once more.

"Can't argue with that."

That was all that she imparted. My chest rumbled then, I remembered it clearly. There was a sting beneath it, inflaming. Disappointment, perhaps? Thinking back, perhaps it was so. Amid my excessive elation in the company of the princess, I failed to realize that my yearnings then were an aberration. I knew better than to harbor such silly expectations; I shouldn't need to fault her for anything. Nevertheless, I remained guilty of that disposition and, at the time, persisted with it. Stifling a sigh, I had slipped a hopeful glance back towards her, wishing she could delve into the loom of words that I had so carefully woven. Instead, she deviated.

"It's weird when you think about it," she murmured, drawn towards the spectacular clash of the distant waves. "It's common knowledge that Princess Celestia raises and lowers the sun, and Princess Luna with the moon. The sky had always abided by the whims and fancies of the pegasi, which in turn shapes the mountains and forests that fill the earth. However, where we understand the principles of these great bodies and the minds that dictate them, we still know nothing when it comes to the ocean. Even after all these years and years of arcane research and scientific innovations, there's nothing that we have to ascertain what defines the ocean as we know it today."

"Now that you've said it, yeah, that is weird." Once again, I had no hesitations nor qualms when it came to her suppositions. There was no need for pondering upon the queries of Twilight Sparkle, a mare whose mind of boundless knowledge and fastidious memorization excels most others, myself included. Her inquiry regarding the sovereignty of the ocean, or apparent lack thereof, remained fascinating to me now as it did then, and that's without mentioning her delivery of it! Seriously, I cannot imagine any other pony I know that could construct her thoughts together with such eloquence, such passion, such ease, such... such...

I'm sorry, I shouldn't digress any further.

"Wait, so there really isn't anything?" I asked.

Twilight shook her head, the grin she was wearing then could only be described as ecstatic. "It's strange. We know that the inner workings of the ocean are there — the underwater currents, the ecosystems, the subaquatic rock formations, we know everything! However, what's baffling is that even after all these centuries, we still don't know why they are there! Why is the ocean the way it is today, Moondancer? Why do you think that is?"

I had no answer, unfortunately, though I never needed one. With a chuckle and a wave of a hoof, Twilight soon dismissed the topic, once again stating that she might be going a little overboard, no pun intended. The rest of our days at the beach were like any other, with various activities keeping us light on our hooves followed by a long period of relaxation. We had many a conversation, of course, though none had ever come close to capturing the raw wonder that clenched her voice amid her musings of the ocean. Upon noticing its absence, I knew then that this was a breakthrough she wouldn't want to miss, even if she did not explicitly state it. With that in mind, I quickly took it upon myself to pursue further research into the matter— a decision that I had made known to Twilight in our hotel room in the dead of the last night of our little vacation.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked me.

"Sure I'm sure," was my response, of course. Still, Twilight clinched onto her quizzical stare, those violet crescents incandescent with concern before the full moon gracing me in the dark of the night from across the room. Her brows furrowed in contemplation, coaxing from me the uneasiness between my ribs. Nevertheless, she remained efficient, still ruthlessly signing away many a document she had brought along with her magic-laced quill like she had set out to do, albeit this time with a strained fervor. Her gaze strayed from mine and sank into the jaded umber swirls in the coffee mug clasped between her hooves, before drifting towards our sleeping friends splayed out in the mattresses around us, almost as if she was hoping to hear a second opinion, before she slipped out a sigh.

"Moondancer, you know this isn't anything minor, right? I'm pretty certain there's a good reason why we have no idea about it after all this time," she said. "I don't want it to take your spare time away. You know, with how tiring your lectures must be and everything."

"I can handle it just fine, Twilight. Plus, I spend my spare time doing my own research anyway! This isn't anything new."

"But it's just..." an ample sigh. "I don't want you to feel obligated for doing this, okay? I know I'm the one who said that I'm curious to know more about the ocean, but I didn't mean that I had to know about it immediately. It didn't have to be you either! If you ask me, I'd say it looks like you're only doing this for my sake."

"I'm not."

"You sure about that? I don't think you would've done it if I didn't mention it—"

"Twilight," I firmly cut in, putting forward my best smile. "I'm not. Trust me."

That was perhaps the worst singular mistake I had made. It was too easy, lying to her like that. It couldn't be that easy, it shouldn't be, but in the end, it is the way it is. Scrutiny came and went, this middling mayfly, passing away swiftly within a minute of unhindered silence. One last sigh followed it, before Twilight placed both mug and quill down, scrounging from within her a forced grin that could very well be a perfect replica of mine.

"If you say so," she muttered, chewing on her crooked lips, quivering perhaps from the cold. "Just don't... push yourself too hard, okay? Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

My reply was straight and simple. "Of course."

Once again, it was too easy.

It shouldn't be that easy, yet it was.

As such, with the end of our vacation came the beginning of my current venture: to identify the thalassic entity in governance, should there be one in our plane of existence, and understand the ratiocination behind the behavioral patterns displayed by the ocean. All of this — as I’ve already mentioned prior, though I shall place a reminder here once again — will be documented as my personal accounts regarding my research. Of course, I shall do my best to adhere to the Royal Society's guidelines regarding citations and references, albeit informally, for I intend to rewrite and publish a more objective and concise version to be published by myself or anyone else in the Society's official scientific journal, editing out any thoughts deemed inconclusive or irrelevant to the research on this matter. Knowing me, there shall be many a detail to omit, for which I apologize.

With these final words, I, Moondancer, shall begin my research.

May Celestia's sun light the way.

II

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II

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My research of the ocean began with none other than a biblical expedition, wherein for the first few weeks, I delved into the vast catalogues of the Canterlot Royal Society’s archives in search of any dissertations and theses relating to the ocean from past scientists, researchers and arcane theologians before me, hailing from different backgrounds and species, in hopes of building a proper framework for my research and consider amid the perspectives surrounding the topic. Seeing as I could only visit the archives in my spare time, this particular process was arduous and taxing without any prospective developments to speak of, and for that reason I shall not go into full detail within this article and, thus, would only confine the summary of results of my reviewing of the archival materials to this singular chapter. I should mention, however, that this expedition of mine had yielded significant questions that remain unanswered regarding the ocean, which I would list out at the very end of this chapter.

With the help of the archivists, I quickly compiled a great amount of works that pertain to the origins of the ocean, many of which are inherently philosophical and have been written by the great thinkers of yore hailing from the earliest days of Princess Celestia’s reign, which was, at the time, briefly shared with her sister before the eventual banishment. Despite being unfounded and, for the rare few of them, in contradiction with our current science, I have to admit they offered a rather interesting and valuable insight apropos of the great blue, with most of them theorizing on what could only be insinuated as the existence of a thalassic deity. Though I surmised that such a theory was crafted only for want of an easy, convenient explanation, I could not help but feel that there may be a certain truth behind them; we clearly have the princesses presiding over their respective celestial bodies, after all. Having a deity overseeing the ocean would certainly fit into the Equestrian concept of the universe in theory. On the contrary, there seems to be the lack of a coinciding numen for the earth we trod upon and the skies above our heads, among many other things. The Princess of Friendship suggested that decades and decades of equine activity may be responsible for shaping the geography around us, and thus concluded it should extend to their origins as well, though in spite of my admiration of her, I don’t think the answer as to how our landscapes are formed is as simple as Equestrian supremacy.

Such an idea would’ve been deemed blasphemous, and with good reason, though if my research were of any indication, the rejection of the world being formed purely by the molding of ponykind’s hooves was anything but contemporary. A few of the ancient theologians, it seems, had similar theories, dissenting against the widely-agreed idea then that the continent and its geographies were created by an alicorn whose prowess surpasses that of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, bearing a name lost in time. In the words of one of ponykind’s early thinkers, Watercress: ‘for this world to be created by those that wandered it was a misguided concept, for we wanderers, purveyors of ease, would seek to abolish the hardships that came with it’. In addition, her assessments of the ocean, what little we know of that had survived the tests of time, are as such: ’this dense plateau, empty and cold, complies with an unfamiliar logic. I marvel no more the greatness of sun nor moon before it, for even its shadow envelops both beads all too effortlessly. To construct such a superfluous mechanism would be tantamount to madness for any pony; the inference as such would be that the ocean may not be of equine origin and is a creation of forces unknown, if not incomprehensible. Or it could be that the ocean thrives off adulation. Given this idea, it may not be further from the truth.’

The ocean, of course, does not actually thrive off of adulation; Equestria would’ve long been leagues underwater were it to be true. Apart from that quip, Watercress posed a theory that remains uncontested to this day, I’m sure with good reason: that the ocean was not a construct of ponykind. None of her contemporaries seem to find fault in her words; none of the thinkers that lived in the eras that followed hers dismissed it. Rather peculiarly, they only but expanded upon her conjecture— a rare show of begrudging unity in the customarily contentious fields of science and philosophy. Quoth the ever elusive Sandpiper, a contemporary of Watercress: ‘the concept of the ocean defies— nay, denies our natural train of thought. It can be bestial and chaotic as any monster of lore, yet bafflingly, it also very much adheres to the ideals of harmony.’ Ever the cynic, he proceeded to proclaim that the ocean ‘exists only to perplex us. To mortify those courageous enough or foolish enough to study it. It is a plague azure; for the sake of their sanity, it’s best that one diverts their gaze elsewhere.’

Of course, many of those that followed in his hoofsteps (myself included) never bothered to heed his warning, for how could we? How dare we, as scientists, cast such a momentous challenge aside? The ocean awaits a discovery, be it geographical or theological, and as such, we must stand ever ready to chart a course to seek the answer that lies within the waves. Nevertheless, as proud as my declaration stands, all my work would certainly be futile if there really was naught an answer at the end. I pray that such shall never come to pass.

Gazing past the ruminations of Equestrian thinkers, our contemporaries from across the continents shared similar ideas. Gorsedd, royal adviser to Gwalhaved, the third king of Griffonstone, described the ocean as a ‘mythical wonder of the world, reaching not only into the farthest of mountains and deepest of valleys, but also into the heart we wear between our wings. It made mockery of our skies, yet we could not help but revere it so’. Zaila-Sabra the Exalted, known natively in Zebrica as the Soothsayer Gray, had defined it when seeing it for the first time as a ‘cradle, in which this land, and all lives upon it, embark upon an aimless voyage. It nourishes us, nurtures us, and in turn, we give back to it, piece by piece. Perhaps, in the vein of our bodies returning to the sand that molded us, that our very souls would return to the waters that mirrored the currents flowing within us, waiting ever patiently in the lull of the sands of our time to return. To be breathed anew, once again, eternally.’

Her words, in particular, struck me as intriguing. The idea of the ocean as some sort of receptacle of our bodies in line for our reincarnation was fascinating, even if a bit absurd. Regardless, such a theory would imply that the ocean serves some form of existential purpose to the zebrafolk, and perhaps extends to the rest of us as well. Despite my qualms regarding this train of thought, it certainly does bear some significance, considering how most of the pre-Celestial scholars address the ocean as a being with intelligence instead of a non-sentient entity. It may troublingly be in part due to the unwritten reverence of the ocean and its mysteries, however, though I’m inclined to believe that such biases may be warranted, considering how elusive is the ocean blue.

Of course, with the technological advancement of the sciences arcane and mundane, the theory of the ocean as a living mass was quickly forgotten, if not ridiculed. As per the words of—

“Professor Moondancer? Professor, are you in?”

.

.

I suppose I should explain the interruption.

Amid reviewing the works of my fellow researchers, I had been visited by one Vellum Bound, the ever steadfast lead assistant to the royal archivist. He was a pony I was well-acquainted with, thanks in part to my repeat visits to the Royal Archives to gather the appropriate resources for my lectures and, more recently, research materials in preparation for my current venture. It had slipped my mind that he was to arrive today to drop off some texts that I had requested to be transcribed, as the original parchments were worn with age and could not be transported out from the storage folders without it crumbling into dust. Funnily enough, he was also the one who suggested the idea of transcription in the first place and thus took it upon himself to ensure it was seen to the end, though he might’ve proposed it a bit all too eagerly for my taste. No matter, for he was always someone that I knew to be dependable, consistently so.

The announcement of his arrival, despite abrupt, was a welcome one. Not to mention the fact that I had been waiting for an opportunity to clear up my head. Thus, to have a guest at my house was refreshing. Outside of obtaining the transcripts, of course, I find his company rather… charming, for lack of a better word. Truly, if sheer awkwardness were a pony, it would bear the pale copper veneer and rusty gray mane of none other than Vellum Bound himself. Then again, for those words to come from me was hypocritical, considering the straits that I was in not too long ago. Once that hurdle was crossed, however, one would always find myself lost in the densest of conversations with him, like it or not, and many of these conversations involved literary works of yore, both creative and scientific. Being the history buff he was, it was no surprise to anyone that he wholeheartedly enjoyed his work, which really only can be said for few ponies in this day and age.

“Your required materials, Professor. Transcripts of the relevant research papers and arcane manuscripts from the time of the First Diarchy, as per your request,” he said, handing the bundled papers to me, neatly tied together with a string. “There might be a few illegible words and sections here and there. No surprise, considering how ancient some of the texts were. I tried my best to fill in some of the blanks, though I don’t think they all came out right.”

“Oh, that wouldn’t be a problem.” Not a major one, I hope. I did a quick skim of the papers, quickly recognizing some of the passages from memory, written all too gracefully in Vellum’s breathtaking chirography. “You know, you don’t always have to make everything pitch perfect for me, Vellum. I’m fine with just having the transcript itself, even if it meant using the typewriter.”

“Ah, yeah, right, but, um, w-well…” he cleared his throat. “It just feels right for me to use the quill, you know? Typewriter’s a bit too cold and straight-laced for me. All clicks and cogs and some such, heh. Don’t think it’s right to do that to the words of scholars and theoreticians before us.” he paused, lips straight as a ruler. “Plus, I was, um, hoping you’d, well, uh, appreciate my work more. Might not mean much in the end, but it’s worth… something? I guess?”

“Always trying your best, huh, Vellum?” I teased out a flustered chuckle from him. “I guess if it isn’t bothering you, it should be fine. Just checking, you sorted this out for me already, right? I requested sorting it out by the names of the authors in alphabetical order.”

“I’m the royal archivist, so yeah, pretty sure I did.”

“Lead assistant to the royal archivist.”

“Getting there, let me dream a little!” he retorted, the two of us chuckling. “But it’s pretty amazing, you know. This whole ocean thing, it’s… it’s a bit over my head, I gotta admit.” He glanced over at my worktable, cluttered with books, parchments, and stationery of every kind. “Knowing from what I’ve transcribed so far, I mean, you’re basically starting from scratch! No general consensus, no leads, nothing!”

“That’s what makes it exciting!” I yelled out my affirmation, having trotted to the kitchen to prepare us some tea. “You’d think with all the great minds that lived through the ages, we would’ve cracked this wide open by now.”

“Not necessarily,” he responded, his voice nearly drowned out by the sound of ruffled papers shuffling about before culminating into a singular crack against the wooden desk. “It’s just a bit… ‘unprecedented’ isn’t the right word for it, but… I mean, we should expect that there remained mysteries surrounding the ocean, but for there to be no provisional proof of progress past a certain point of time from all the great minds of history—”

“No known proof of progress,” I reaffirmed. “There may be somepony out there who might’ve figured it out who’s made findings surrounding the ocean but did not get any exposure at all. Darjeeling, Vellum?”

“Half a cup, please.”

“Then there’s also the possibility that past archivists had been ordered to withdraw any such research from the public records,” I continued, cantering back into the living room and handing him his tea. “You know, much like how the earliest annals and anecdotes regarding Nightmare Moon were hidden away after she was banished for fear of another possible insurrection.”

“So you’re suggesting they’re confiscated?” Vellum questioned, his interest piqued. “Now, why would you think the princesses would do that? You think the ocean might actually very well be—”

“It’s just a thought for now.” The last thing I needed was to dive off the deep end. “It’s possible that there really were no breakthroughs made regarding the ocean as we know of it today. As much as I’d like to speculate, I don’t really have any evidence to back me up.”

“Probably. I mean, I’ve barely grazed the surface of how deep the archives really go yet, executive privileges and whatnot. I’m still trying to plead my case with the boss about it. Once I got the green light, if I’ve found anything that could help you out, you can be sure to hear from me on that.”

“Appreciate it, Vel, and good luck,” I said, grinning heartily from ear to ear. “Now then, time for our quick review.”

It appears I might’ve made a misstatement, unless you would call three hours considerably quick. Nevertheless, the time we’ve spent was definitely productive, pleasant even. With Vellum and his organizational skills, we’ve soon collated and compiled all the materials, sorting them by authors and grouping them with regards to their cultural origins. That was important, for there was a meteoric rise in multiculturalism between species as the Great Celestial Reign began, with many a culture’s traditional philosophies serving as different bases of thought for so many of the theoreticians and scientists at the time. After all, it would be ignorant to suggest that my colleagues presiding in Manehatten share the exact cultural background to, say, those of Saddle Arabia, who in fact have more similarities culturally in their ideas to our zebrine counterparts than they do with us. With how well-versed he was in general history, Vellum certainly realized the importance of that, perhaps more so than most.

I don’t remember much of specifically what we’ve conversed about that day, though I recalled us conversing on a great lot of topics, both scientific and historical. Vellum was always a talkative one once coaxed out of his shell— a theory that I can confidently state, mostly because that side of him was akin to mine, verily so. I would also add that without his help, the words you have read and are about to read would never have been penned.

I owe a lot to Vellum Bound, even if he himself would say otherwise.

Now then, onward.

.

.

Returning to the theory of the ocean as a living mass, the rejection of it was swift. While the idea of such may seem laughable in our current day and age, one must understand that there had been no dictatorial proof of the contrary. As the reign of the Two Sisters began, however, so did some significant technological innovations, scientific discoveries and arcane breakthroughs that would pave the way for generations to come. With these newfound ideas, many soon came around to the idea that the ocean possesses no cognizance of any kind. Among the first to disavow it, unsurprisingly, was Starswirl the Bearded, infamously rubbishing the ideas of an ocean with sentience and reason in his public speeches and decrying any and all who proposed it. Many soon followed suit, albeit taken more by his bravado than the scientific literature at the time.

It is generally agreed that the first scientific invalidation of the ocean having a sentience came from then-little-known arcane theologist, Rotifer the Recluse. Long before the debate of defining the concept we now know as consciousness, he designed the basic framework to one of the supposed solutions that would be used to detect the presence of a consciousness in a mass: the illusory spell of Lifeglow. Despite not achieving the exact calculations, as per following the proper integers derived with the help of the arcane frequency diagram and the scales of neurological intention, the lack of a substantial reaction from the ocean to the usage of the spell, no matter how grand the magnitude, proved that the ocean does not possess what we recognize as a consciousness to call its own.

With that concept disproven, however, it only served to make the ocean more inexplicable than not. From this point onward, all the great minds and various schools of art, science, magic, and philosophy began to have differing opinions regarding the ocean; I’d imagine it’d take centuries to categorize them all, hook, line and sinker. Despite that, all these ponies throughout time, in pursuance of a proper conceptualization of the ocean, sought to answer the same albeit notoriously wide set of questions, though from these, I truly believed that, when taken into consideration all our endeavors in the physical and arcane sciences, there really were only three questions on the list worth answering.

What purpose does the ocean serve? There was an argument made, among the theological and philosophical community throughout the ages, that the ocean serves some sort of larger purpose existentially to the known universe and, in extension, to us. Though I am opposed to the hypothesis, as I firmly believe that not everything in this world must be tailored to our needs, there understandably remains little evidence to be certain. For now, however, I remain a skeptic.

What framework does the ocean operate under? Perhaps the most ludicrous and haphazard of the questions, the idea of understanding the ocean’s mechanics beyond its tides and currents was a concept put forth by many schools of thought in an attempt to answer the previous question. Much like how our ancient thinkers figured out the cycle of rainfall and the changing of the seasons, many figured that the ocean itself may supposedly be part of a scheme of a transcendent level unknown to us. Whatever it was, it’ll certainly be an amazing discovery, should such a framework exist. I, once again, remain a skeptic.

Is the ocean represented by any sort of entity/entities of importance? If so, was the ocean a result of its handiwork, or did the ocean exist long before the entity/entities came to be? What would be its relationship to our Royal Highnesses Princess Celestia and Princess Luna? Can the ocean be considered a separate nation-state? If so, what form of governance does it operate under? Do the nation’s boundaries extend across the entirety of the ocean, or just a portion? What are its stances regarding international affairs, if such ideas are even present to it at all? Question after question after question laid beyond it, should such an entity exist. Whatever the answer to this question, I, for one, am excited to see what it has in store.

With these three questions answered, which I was certain may be highly unlikely to happen soon, we may move one step closer toward understanding the ocean as it is. I knew, however, that I can’t complete this task alone; once I made the proposal to the Canterlot Royal Society, they’ve hastily formed a research team to assist, connecting me with some of the brightest minds that the society has to offer. Despite some understandable qualms I still have around ponies, I remained diligent, sure enough getting well-acquainted with them in time. For several months, we gathered on the weekends, sometimes leafing through past archives and research papers, other times meeting with some of my fellow researchers more well-versed in these topics, all to seek out an answer for any of the three, albeit to no avail. It wasn’t long after that I surmised to myself that for one to truly understand the ocean was to look beyond the words of scientists and scholars, and really turn to the ocean itself for the answers.

I would never realize how right I was going to be.

.

.

“...and, depending on the frequency, magnitude and, in some cases, trajectory, of the projectura lucida, a materializing spell can overrule Haygens’ principle and, thus, ignore the effects of refraction as it travels across two mediums of differing densities. Of course, to do so swiftly would require the caster to be familiar and be adept in maneuvering these properties with a degree of flexibility, particularly when it comes to the spells that require utmost precision in their calibrations...”

Beyond the lectern were the eyes, firm and ferocious. They were the eyes of budding scientists, these vociferous voyeurs with their attention voracious and voluminous within the walls of the auditoriums. None wavered — none dared to, lest they miss a word, or worse, a number. In my rousing air of confidence, I, who wandered into this nest of hawks, beckoned their stares. Every strenuous strut, every gentle gesture, it all sank in, and they reciprocated resplendently with silver smiles carved in a golden silence.

If you are reading this, Your Highness, I hope you found that passage engaging.

Flowery language aside, my position as one of the many researchers in the Canterlot Royal Society required me to hold these guest lectures for students at Canterlot University, as per the principles of the Society. Similarly, once my thesis of the ocean have been completed and peer-reviewed, there will come a day where I shall pass on my findings to the rest of the scholarly world. My undertaking of the task, of course, had not gone unnoticed, as evidenced from the fact that despite this was a lecture held for aspiring learners, I couldn’t help but espy some familiar faces among the crowd.

“...and it was from those achievements that he finally received the praise and recognition that he had been denied for so long. Of course, his work then paved the way for arcane resonance and subsequently opened the gateway into enchantments: the study of casting magical imbuements into material objects— both topics which we will cover next week.”

With those final words and the rowdy shuffling of departing hooves, I was soon struck with conversation after conversation by many a society member whose names should be withheld for now. Like all other past conversations I had, they all surrounded my ongoing research, with too many a question tossed up in the air and left hanging. They had also aired some concerns regarding the lack of progress made in my ventures— a concern that I concur was unbearably frustrating, especially as I’m the mare spearheading the entire operation. I did try alleviating said concerns, though I was as certain as everypony else that this venture had been stalled for too long.

“Professor! Prof, over here!”

A giddy yet gingerly voice, glinting with a sandy husk uncharacteristic of the mare it belonged to, enticed the smile within me to rise to the occasion. Amid my conversations, I had noticed her bumbling towards me from the hindmost row, her assortment of books prancing closely behind her in a sparkling cloud of olive green. Her grin looked as if it would leap off her face any second, which, in this case, was a sight for sore eyes.

“How did I do, Silica?” I asked through my teeth.

“Super-duper, Prof! Couldn’t have done it better myself!”

“You’d sit through my lectures end to end if you could,” I retorted, earning a giggle. “Think I should at least stick with wearing my glasses though, don’t you?”

“Nah! I think you look great! Ask anyone! Really!” Silica exclaimed. “Sure, you can’t exactly see anyone in front of you, but since when does a lecturer need to do that? All you have to do is give the lecture! Piece of cake!”

“I like how you've conveniently forgotten the minutes of pauses I had to take just so I could squint out my own notes into clarity.”

“Okay, so like one or two pauses! But apart from that? Smooth sailing all around I'd say. But once you get your contacts—”

“If I get my contacts. We haven’t exactly agreed on that yet.”

“—then you can say goodbye to squinting. Forever. The power of modern optical lenses compels you, Professor Moondancer! You must heed its call!”

Her hoof had gestured across at the sky — the ceiling of the auditorium, actually — as she said that, to which I could only shake my head with a soft chuckle. Such was with the company of Silica Summerwind, undeniably the peppiest student within this university. She was the only one who sat there beaming ear to ear throughout my whole lecture; a notion I knew to be true even without my glasses. She was also one of the brightest students the university ever had, easily grasping even the most advanced concepts of every field of science imaginable. It was a surprise to many, myself included, that she was actually studying to be a biologist, of all professions. Her aptitude in all other fields, however, remains remarkable, which was why I’ve assigned her to be part of the team.

That, and also the fact that I wholeheartedly enjoyed having her around.

“So, you got anything new to share with me?”

“Nothing so far, prof,” she whistled, swiftly yet fastidiously riffling through her notebook with a whisk of her magic. “Cross-referencing between the Papyrus Tomes of Zoroaster and the works of Gavyn Glidethorn, nil. Attempted detection and extraction of subsidiary arcane residues from ocean sample via photokinesis, zilch. Atomic disassembly of sample and observation of subsequent residual arcane output, nada.”

“Surprise, surprise,” I deadpanned, then sighed. “We’re running out of ideas on the research front, aren’t we?”

“Well, I’ve still got some tests left to run. Same for the others. Plus, Mr. Bound just came to us with some works of interest he found in the archives.” She fanned out some of them with her magic. “Pretty sure we haven’t looked into Dartwing’s Fifth Edition of the Development of Equine-Zebrine Relations yet. Not sure how that ties in with anything though.”

“Mentioned in a cultural context, probably.” Vellum always was adamant about there being truth in fiction. I reckon it would be favorable for everyone involved if he confined those views away from his work ethic, however. “We’ll set those aside for now. I’m thinking we might have to approach this from another angle. Again.”

“Ooh, a plan B?”

“More like a plan G at this point.”

“Well, no matter what it is, I’m sure the ‘G’ stands for grrrreat~! Whadaya say, Prof?”

I couldn’t remember whether I chuckled or rolled my eyes at that.

Striding quickly down the university’s hallways, its unnecessarily lavish furnishings second only to that of the royal palace, we were heading back to my office to pick up some documents I had prepared for the next step of our research. As usual, the halls were teeming with chattering students, with some of them stopping momentarily to flash a greeting hoof or nod at me. Silica followed closely behind, humming a tune as she skimmed through some of the books she had brought along with her, my past chastisements of her reading while trotting apparently cast aside again in favor of her undying pursuit of knowledge. I wasn’t in the mood to raise my voice, seeing as I had some other things on my mind as well.

With the parting of the gilded oak doors came the parting of my lips, a soft sigh rushing into the air as I welcomed myself back into my home away from home. Quickly, I trotted over to my desk, ruffling through the growing stacks of paper. “They must be here somewhere…” I mumbled aloud, all while sneaking a glance at my student just as she settled into one of the leather couches.

“So, what’s up with the docs, Prof?” she asked, still skimming through her books. “Did you write a secret thesis that the rest of us know nothing about?”

“Oh, I wish,” I groaned. “No, just some permission letters I penned.”

“Permission letters? Wait wait wait wait.” Silica leaped to her hooves and began to pace around the room. “Permission letters, permission letters… ohmigosh, ohmigosh... Prof, are you doing what I think you’re doing?”

“Yep.”

“Yes! Finally! I’ve waited for this all my life!”

I raised an eyebrow. “Wait, all your life?”

“Soon, we shall bear witness to the majestic and all-magnificent Moondancer’s most famous trick: summoning a black hole in the middle of the campus!”

“Silica, how in the— ugh, that was an accident! How was I supposed to know that Blindsider's Runes were supposed to be arranged counterclockwise when they’re literally written from top to bottom in the text?” I screeched. “I’m not going to do that again, okay? Not ever! Got into a lot of trouble of almost ending Equestria once! Don’t wanna find myself in that position again."

“Awwww.”

“No ‘aw’s, Silica. Fun as it may be for you to see it, it’s not really as fun when you’re on the receiving end of the chancellor’s shrieking,” I grumbled at that memory as I picked out the letters from the stack. “I’m actually planning out a field trip for the purposes of our research. Seeing as it’s an extracurricular thing, I’m obliged to send a couple of these letters, the most important of which goes to all your parents.”

Silica laughed. “Feels like I’m back at Celestia’s School all over again, don't ya think?”

“I just want to cover my bases, that’s all.”

“We’re full-fledged adults, Prof! All college students are!”

“Informing them about it wouldn’t hurt now, would it?” I asked. “I just want you to leave a note to your mother in case she needs you for anything—”

“Prof." she stopped me short, her hoof resting uncomfortably on my shoulder. "It’s fine. Really.”

Her sideways glance and shaky grin garnered from me a sigh. “Silica, everyone on the team, myself included, are required by standard procedure so as to avoid any litigation troubles plaguing the Society. If not, I’ll have to remove your name from this trip and I really don’t want to do that.” I waited for an answer, only to receive nothing but silence. “Fine, is there anyone else that can vouch for you?” I opted to ask. “Anyone else you know that can sign this?”

Nothing came from her except the shuffling of her hooves, the sound seemingly growing louder and louder and louder, only to realize that it was coming from somewhere else. I stopped myself short of expecting an answer, my perturbed glance rising to the door. Silica had turned around as well, the rumbling rush of stampeding hoofsteps filling both of our ears. It wasn’t long before we both yelped out in surprise as the door suddenly burst open, as one of my colleagues rushed in with a look of absolute terror and agitation on his face.

“Professor Moondancer, you’ve got to see this!”

See it we did. Heading outside with everyone else huddling about the hallways, all eyes were driven up towards the sky. Silica and I both followed suit, a dreadful wave of awe and fascination immediately gripping me as I was met with what everyone had described seeing that fateful day: a towering spindle of turquoise light streaking into the sky. It vanished into the clouds, twisting and turning them, with the blue sky surrounding it seemingly warping in its seething presence. Trying to pinpoint its origin, all I knew then was that it came from somewhere beyond the western mountains, and that all of Equestria (and perhaps beyond) would be able to see it from wherever they stood.

A scrambled hum followed it, the frightening eruption sounding metallic yet somehow faintly organic, like a hundred choirs tearing into a metal sheet. It was almost as if the sky seized the earth by the shoulders and shook it with unfettered violence, nearly throwing every one of us off our hooves. By the time that hum ended, the light vanished, leaving only echoes of its sordid ring and its vividness to remember it by. Almost immediately afterward, chatters and cries of panic rang across the corridors, whereas I glanced down at the carpeted floor beneath my hooves, trying to make sense of everything that had happened

“Prof?” Silica’s question reached me, looking understandably distressed as well. “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” I remembered answering then, my voice shivering, whether from fear or from excitement, to this day I still have no idea. “But it won’t be long before we’ll find out.”

III

.

III

.

The incidents that unfolded that day came to be known as the Emancipation.

Never had there been an event in recent history witnessed by most, if not all, of the citizens of Equestria. Never had there been an event that left so many mesmerized yet horrified as it happened. Never had there been an event, in its wake, sowed confusion of such immense magnitude across the continent. In Canterlot alone, there was an uproar amid the townsfolk, with the nobles mainly leading the charge, which was a notion I never thought I'd see play out before my eyes. Perhaps what's even more fascinating was how united and widespread the outcry was across the capital and in other major cities around Equestria, easily eclipsing the protests that came as a result of other calamities, notably the invasion of the Changelings as led by Queen Chrysalis as well as Tirek's momentary reign of terror. It was a unity beyond the edicts of the harmony of the Royal Sisters, and though it would seem unnecessary to contend chaos with chaos, it gave many of its vocal citizens, in this brief window of disquietude and disarray, a moment's reprieve.

Amid the rising furor across the country, the princesses quickly leaped to action, with the Royal Sisters ordering the dispatch of the Royal Guard to every city and town, mostly to assuage the public of any safety and security concerns but also to report back to the sisters in the event of a possible threat. At the same time, they convened an emergency summit that included Princess Cadance and Princess Twilight, though the latter, having been sent alongside the Elements of Harmony to deal with a convoluted dispute involving the cervine royal families, could not return to Canterlot and thus attended the summit only through magical means. The discussions that were had between them never left the palace walls, but the measures that came as a result of them, all meant to foster communication and cooperation between the public and the respective authorities assigned to their districts, quelled most of the voices in dissent and restored confidence in the rule of the princesses. From what I've gathered, the Princess of Friendship was to thank for the measures being implemented, having repeatedly insisted upon them in their meeting and in similar congregations prior. To this day, I haven't found the time to thank Twilight for that.

Similarly, the response from surrounding nations was of sheer bewilderment. For days, diplomats from beyond our borders lined up at the palace gates, all of them requesting an audience — demanding an explanation, more like — from the Princesses, all exhibiting varying degrees of distress. Very often they would return to their homelands disappointed, for Equestria was also in the dark with regards to the Emancipation as its neighbors at the time. All we knew for certain then was that the epicenter was approximated to be somewhere near the western coastline of Equestria, and that there were no aftereffects that came about in its wake, or at least, no immediate ones.

In spite of everything, ponies still tried their best to go on with their daily lives, yet one couldn't help but feel a sense of dread and uncertainty as time went on. Certainly, there was no indication that the Emancipation was a threat, but there was no indication of the contrary either. "We're still looking into what may have caused the event," I still remembered the words from the official statement put out by the princesses after almost a week of internal deliberation. "From what we've discerned, there is no cause for concern for the time being, but we must be prepared in the possible event of any subsequent incident. For now, we advise the citizens to be patient and to report to your township's assigned guards should you come upon anything or anyone suspicious."

And for a few weeks, nothing extraordinary happened.

.

.

I remember I had been looking forward to a moment of peace and quiet that afternoon, having just finished a lecture regarding the heavily contested field of the applications of alteration magic at an atomic level. I do not know, for the life of me, whose brilliant idea was it to compact seventeen equations worth of theoretical material into an hour-long lecture, but I somehow managed. I cannot fully guarantee that those who've attended the lecture — those resilient enough to stay awake, anyway — would even remember a lick of everything I've taught, however. That aside, it was amid my return to the office that I had heard, in the distance, the signs of a brewing battle.

"—and I'm telling you it isn't that simple! If it's that simple, we'd figure it out already!"

"But it's just making a few adjustments to the emitter! All you have to do is to reattempt the experiment, this time with a smaller focal length—"

"For the hundredth time, a high concentration of arcane energy constantly focused on a singular point of the solution would render it volatile and possibly cause it to implode—"

To hear those two muffled voices — one male, the other female — yelling from beyond the door to my office, as common an occurrence as it may be, quickly erased any hopes of a moment's reprieve away. I should expect as much when I took them in as part of my team along with Silica, given as they were quite infamous around the campus for their heated exchanges as they were in their respective fields of sciences. Perhaps what's more surprising was the fact that they were, and still are, high school sweethearts, having been together for almost eight years already. One would think with how many times they went out of their way to start an argument, it would've been the contrary; even to this day, it remains a struggle for me to comprehend how these two opposing forces became an item, but alas, truth remains stranger than fiction. With a forlorn sigh and my head held high, I stepped into my office, greeted once again with a sight that I really shouldn't be finding myself becoming increasingly familiar with.

"—probability of it ever occurring is minuscule, to the point where it can be negated, and it should be!"

"It shouldn't and cannot be negated because minuscule or not, the probability of it happening is still there! Whatever 'negligible' percentage that you pulled out from your flank still means that we might send this whole campus off to the Badlands—"

"Whoa, what do you mean 'we'? Don't bring me into this shtick!"

"You're the flapjack that suggested it, numbskull! Maybe if you'd take some responsibility for once in your life instead of throwing it all onto me, then you'd begin to understand—"

"Oh boy, here we go again..." chimed a third voice, belonging to none other than Silica Summerwind, looking a little too comfortable sitting on the edge of my desk with her hooves swaying to and fro. Despite everything, she was beaming from ear to ear, up to the moment she spotted me at the doorway, to which she quickly hopped off and sauntered up towards me. "Hiya, Prof! Just in time for the showdown!"

"Glad I could make it," I muttered heftily, eyes fervently darting between the two ponies raving in the room, this time over an experiment involving a constant stream of transmutation spells by way of an artificial arcane emitter into different samples of the ocean collected from a variety of regions. Knowing them all too well, in addition to all my quiet observations of past flagrant displays of their differences in opinion, the current conflict had just begun. "So, what's the verdict, Silica?"

"Red's trying to blow the whole campus to the Badlands."

"For Celestia's sake, Sil, that's not what I'm trying to d—P-Professor Moondancer! What a pleasant surprise!" exclaimed the stallion of the quarrelsome couple and the team's disheveled physicist, Redshift Ruff. Sheepishly brushing back his copper mane, he coughed out the growing lump in his throat and fumbled with the crumpling papers in his hooves, all before the livid stare of his appropriately more practical marefriend: our resident engineer, Jade Woodstock. "W-We were just talking about— well, I was talking about how JJ here can make a few adjustments to the spectral emitter to further intensify its reaction with our sample solution—"

"—using an emission whose runic value's unquestionably at least three times more powerful than the ones we're currently testing with. Gee, I wonder which direction I'd be sent flying to once all is said and done?"

"Again, negligible." Sighing gruffly, he handed his findings — scrawlings, more like — for me to study closely. "Anyways, in theory, if we were to amplify the input of energy from the emitter, it should be a logical certainty that the ensuing reaction would yield a more measurable result. I told JJ time and time again that if anything's negligible, it's these readings we keep on getting, and we keep getting them because we're performing the experiments with too low of a control variable—"

"There's a reason it's low, Red!"

"Negligible!"

"I swear to Celestia, you say that word one more time—"

"Okay! Let's stop right there, shall we?" I hastily spoke up. As a witness to the horrors of domestic warfare, I can safely say that prevention is infinitely better than cure, no question. Holding onto my grin, I turned to Jade, who was staring at me expectedly. "It's... a bit of a stretch, but I sorta see where Red's coming from in this instance. Maybe if we attempt it gradually, we might start seeing some proper results. I understand your concerns about it all going wrong, but I'm confident in your judgment that you'll prepare the proper countermeasures and counterspells just in case."

A sigh from Jade, before she smiled with a rousing nod. "You can count on it, Professor Moondancer."

"Told you, Jade."

"Shut it. You're lucky Professor Moondancer's in the mood to swallow up your idealistic nonsense."

"Like you've suggested anything worthwhile before."

"One more thing, Red," I raised my voice before his marefriend could sock him by the jaw, handing his papers back. "As much as I appreciate your willingness to be daring and try new things, you should at least double-check your values before submitting your findings. In other words, Silica and Jade both have a point: you really need to stop trying to blow the whole campus to the Badlands."

The other mares in the room snickered — Jade being noticeably louder and more snarky — much to his red-faced embarrassment. "R-Right, Prof. Gotcha."

"Last but not least, Silica," I turned to the mare in question, who was already standing in riveting attention, starry-eyed and all. "You... you just keep on doing you."

"Aye aye, Capt!"

Such were our interactions every time we met, and though it was only a company of the few, it was a rowdy company all the same. In the months I've worked with them, however, they had proved to be reliable and headstrong, always striving to attain the goals we've set together as a team. Had I worked with a team any less cohesive and competent than them, I'm certain that the work we had finished up to this point would only be achieved six months from now, to which I would perhaps cave in from frustration beforehand. For that, I was blessed to be gifted with the assistance of Silica Summerwind, Redshift Ruff, and Jade Woodstock, as odd of a partnership as it may have been.

It had not been an hour into our daily work before there was a knock on the door. I had presumed incorrectly that one of my fellow professors had come to inquire about our research, for there had been a great many in recency, much to my growing disgruntlement. That or Vellum had come by once again with some material he deemed interesting and relevant to our work, though that was unlikely the case as he had applied for a leave of absence to spend the day with his parents who had come all the way from Fillydelphia just to pay him a visit. With the rest already busy engrossing themselves in their respective work, I took it upon myself to answer the door, coming face to face with a sight rarely seen around the campus grounds: the stern and stalwart visage of a royal guard.

"Professor Moondancer, Her Royal Highness Princess Celestia requests for your presence at the palace."

.

.

My plans for further research for that day had to be postponed to another date in favor of this sudden turn of events. Rarely does royalty find the need to summon the likes of us researchers and educators, yet there was the monarch of the sun, extending an invitation towards me by way of one of her many sentries. Of course, I had no choice but to let him escort me, though not before quashing the frenzied display of exhilarated rambling Silica had exhibited on the way out. I soon found out, however, that I was not to be the only one taking the same short and uneventful trip down the road to the palace.

"Seems the Princesses called for you as well. And here, I thought it was something exclusive."

"Professor Brightward? What are you doing here? I thought you had a lecture to give?" I exclaimed in surprise as I stumbled upon a fellow researcher in one of the palace corridors the guard directed me towards. Professor Slate Brightward was one of the Society's more senior of scientists, specializing mainly in the fields of geography and geology. He was quiet and reserved, preferring to brood over his research than to converse with a fellow pony, researcher or otherwise. Despite all that, I had frequently sought his counsel in my research surrounding the ocean, considering the fact that most of what we know to be true of the ocean today stemmed from his area of expertise. He was a truer skeptic than any other when it comes to my research, apparently viewing the ocean as nothing more than just a grand body of water. Nevertheless, he had the enthusiasm to share his knowledge with me, even if he can be a little dismissive of the implications it may bring.

"Well, wish I knew the answer myself. They've got 'most everyone from the Society here. One from each department, at the very least," Professor Brightward said with a grimace as we made our way down the corridor to where the rest of our colleagues were waiting, only to lean in closer. "Some talk's going around. Heard that this all has something to do with that beam of light we saw couple of weeks ago."

I stifled a shiver, the memory of that chaotic day rushing back to me in an instant. "But why do they need us? I thought the Royal Guards were the ones who were handling it."

"Dunno the answer to that, I'm afraid, but the fact that they need us scientists tells me something's happened. Something exciting."

"Is that... is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

I had never seen a more ominous shrug than the one Professor Brightward answered my question with in all my life.

We convened with the rest of the researchers in the council chambers wherein awaited the princesses. With the parting of the doors, Her Royal Majesty Princess Celestia, the epitome of grace divine, greeted us with a muted grin. Her Royal Majesty Princess Luna, the epitome of grace enigmatic, was seated on her sister's right, sparing only scrutiny most vigorous at our presence. Her Royal Highness Princess Cadance, the epitome of grace benevolent, was also present, as was Her Royal Highness Princess Twilight, the epitome of grace candid, once again attending this council only by way of holography. Upon noticing my presence, she shot me a bright yet measured grin, to which I could only respond with a sheepish wave.

"Fillies and gentlecolts of the Canterlot Royal Society," Princess Celestia stood up to address us once we've all settled in. "First of all, on behalf of us all, I wish to thank you for attending this conference. We're well aware of the abrupt and abnormal circumstances of this conference, and we understand that there had been speculations made about its purpose. As such, I think it's best we get that out of the way." She paused as she glanced at her fellow princesses, all of whom motioned her to proceed with genteel nods. "We have gathered all of you here today in light of recent developments surrounding the incident that occurred several weeks ago."

Low whispers and murmurs filled the room, only for silence to quickly sweep back in.

"I'm sure you are all aware of the incident in question," she continued. "Regarding the incident by itself, I can assure you that in every aspect, there is no evidence that it brought any sort of harm to Equestria. From what information we have gathered, what we've witnessed that day was, as expected, a massive output of energy, though we could not identify the form of energy that was emitted, only that it was most likely arcane in nature. The Royal Guard had been working tirelessly to figure out its point of origin for these past few weeks. Now, however, we can confidently state that they had managed to track down its source."

With those words, Princess Celestia cast a hologram before her, bringing into view a set of images of what seemed to be a seaside township, though to call it merely as such would be to denounce its stunning architecture. Many a sane pony would not even consider discounting the elegant gem that is Cape Silverwatch, arguably one of Equestria's most beautiful hamlets. One could never forget the stunning houses with their whitewashed limestone walls and turquoise doors, as well as the gleaming cobblestone paths that cut between them, all gloriously standing before the majestic backdrop that is the ocean. It was a stunning sight to behold, even if we were only viewing its pictures. To think that such a sanctuary would be the source of the incident — one seemingly heralding a cataclysm, or representing one in the making — was disconcerting, though fortunately, it was not entirely the case.

"The ray of energy was traced to an atoll off the coast of Cape Silverwatch, known to the locals as Latreia's Lagoon." With another glimmer of her horn, the pictures changed, this time showing a bird's eye view of the atoll in question. "Since identifying it as the point of origin, the Royal Guard had been closely monitoring it from afar, though there had been no further developments beyond that. There was a proposal made to traverse to the atoll to further understand the situation, though we want to ensure that any voyage made to the atoll was substantial. As such, we have concluded it best that Equestria's brightest and most gifted of minds — all of you, the esteemed professors of the Canterlot Royal Society — to be present to make the most accurate of assessments."

Again, another cascade of murmurs filled the room, this time with a growing sense of vexation. "Pardon me, Your Highness," one of the professors spoke up, "but what does this journey entail? Is there anything we have to be... worried about?"

"You'll be required to settle in at Cape Silverwatch for the duration of this expedition. Among yourselves and the guard, you are expected to conduct a schedule for travelling to the atoll from the town as you would please. As for the expedition itself, we're allowing you to plan it as you would please, as we trust in all your expertise and judgment in your respective fields, though do note that we will have the guard provide to us a report of any decisions that were made. We will not give an estimate as to how long this expedition might take, for we are uncertain of too many things to provide a time frame. The expedition might take years, which is why we're looking at multiple options to approach this, like a scheduled rotation of teams, for example." Princess Celestia paused for a breath, frowning. "As for the latter question, I'm afraid we don't know the answer quite yet. It's too early to say, but one must assume that there may be a danger to be had. However, I can assure you that we will have the guards be with you at all times. We will, of course, send our most experienced to join your ranks and keep you safe at all times, should you need it. As this is quite possibly a matter of national security, if not international, their presence in town will be of utmost importance."

"And the assessments themselves?" another question from the floor. "What is required of us, if I may ask, Your Highness?"

"That one, I'll leave Princess Twilight to explain. If I may..."

With that said, Princess Celestia stepped back, and all eyes turned to Princess Twilight, who cleared her throat. "Alright, so regarding the incident in question, we want to be extremely sure that its occurrence, aberrant or otherwise, is truly harmless in nature. What happened that day might not have a direct effect upon us, but we need to make sure that it does not have any adverse effects against, say, the ecology or the climate, so on and so forth. Secondly, we need to figure out what it was exactly— its cause, its purpose if any, the form of energy being given out, whether there may be repeat incidents, et cetera. Last, but not least, if there's evidence that it may bring harm, we have to devise a method to prevent it from ever happening again, should there be a need to."

"And what happens if it did pose a threat to Equestria and its citizens?" Professor Brightward spoke up this time, terse and succinct. "What should we do then?"

"We will take the necessary precautions."

"And if those precautions involve leaving us behind?"

A brief show of hesitation in a waking field of chattering, before Twilight patched up a more graceful smile than the last. "There is no intention to leave anyone behind. No pony, especially those who have contributed so much to Equestria in the last few years, or decades even, should need to give their lives away for the sake of national security. If such an impasse were to be had, we'll proceed with a solution that benefits all involved, no question."

Professor Brightward only had a gruff sigh for her answer, signaling his dissatisfaction. It was definitely not the best answer for us researchers, but it was definitely the best answer Twilight could come up with. Despite that, Professor Brightward knew not to press any further on the assumption that the conference would descend into chaos as a result, and it was for that understanding of nuances that I admire him. Nevertheless, to not be promised our safety should we undertake this expedition was still terrifying and frustrating all the same. To willingly give away our lives in the name of the stability of Equestria and all the citizens that live beneath its banner, to discard all the days ahead of us to save everyone else— I cannot fathom the idea of it, to be honest, and I'm not sure if anyone actually could.

"Now, we understand that there are plenty of reasons anyone undertaking this expedition should be concerned, which is why I believe that this expedition should not be mandatory." The air around us felt a little lighter as she said that, though I noticed Twilight's desperation, even from viewing only her hologram, was becoming palpable. "I'm of the belief that we shouldn't send all of our brightest minds into an expedition that one may not come out unscathed or even alive. As such, if anyone wishes to refrain from participating in this expedition, you can leave the chambers after I have finished speaking. Fear not of repudiation, for we understand and treat your decision with utmost respect, and should you wish to change your mind, feel free to do so anytime. Still, I'm hoping from the fullest of my heart that all of you at least understand that the lives of every colt, mare and foal may be at risk should you decide to abstain. I implore upon all of you to understand that the lives of your family and friends may be at stake here. Please take this all into consideration before making your decision. Thank you."

With a graceful nod to a deathly silent room, Princess Twilight stepped back as my colleagues stood up and shuffled out of the room, one by one. I watched as many a familiar face made their unremarkable departure, heads hanging low and mutters lower still. I remembered wanting to do the same, to follow them out the door, yet even as more of my fellow researchers made their move, I remained there, an immovable object. The whole time, my eyes were begrudgingly glued to my traitorous hooves, my mind urging with all its might to stretch my muscles, yet the whole time, I knew the real reason why I wouldn't leave the edge of my seat even if I needed to.

And so, as the doors closed, my gaze rose to meet the crestfallen expression of Princess Twilight Sparkle.

An expression that quickly lit up with an eruptive vigor when her eyes met mine.

"You're not leaving?"

I glanced to my left, only to find Professor Brightward still seated beside me, eyeing me curiously. "I-I guess not," I mumbled. "Um, no offense, but I thought you'd be leaving as well, Professor."

"Least one of us has to participate in the expedition, yes? Cape Silverwatch is not too bad of a place as well. Needed a quieter place to look over some of my work." A rare chortle from him. "And you? You still have decades ahead of you. Why bother with a trip like this?"

"I don't know," I said. Lied, effectively. "I mean, it'll definitely be interesting if there's anything to come out of it." I snuck a glance at Princess Twilight deep in discussion with the other alicorns. "Who knows, maybe it'll tie in with my ongoing research, though that's if I'm being really optimistic."

"It certainly might provide a different perspective. A change of scenery may just do you good."

"Here's hoping."

"To those of you who remain," Princess Celestia spoke up again from her pulpit, prompting our attention. "Thank you. Truly, from the bottom of our hearts, thank you."

I looked around the room. Apart from me and Professor Brightward, there were eleven other ponies that chose to stay behind, much to my surprise. Call it cynicism, but I expected there to be fewer volunteers; the modern pony, much less an academic, isn't exactly known for tackling danger head-on. Then again, the modern pony is well known to come together in the name of serving the princesses. Speaking of which, Princess Twilight was visibly elated, though she did not let it break her composure, instead bringing herself forward to speak once more.

"Like I've mentioned before, we believe that it's fair and proper that you researchers plan the details of the expedition amongst yourselves, though we do hope that you'll set off for Cape Silverwatch soon. Should there be any requirements to be had to prepare for the long trip ahead, you may refer them to our fellow advisers and council of ministers. We will inform them to provide you with your resources as soon as they possibly can. Once again, thank you, all of you, for joining."

With those words, Princess Twilight commenced a gentle applause, one echoed by her fellow princesses and, soon enough, the rest of us. We've all dispersed afterward, though I opted to stay behind, as Twilight had shot a somewhat insistent stare at me while everyone else was taking their leave. Flustered as I may be, I found it an honor to think that she had reason to speak with me alone, even if we might end up conversing about the most mundane of things. It really was never a dull moment when in the company of Twilight Sparkle.

"How's everything over there?" I began.

"Ugh, don't even get me started," Twilight groaned, earning a chuckle from me. "The families here are always, always arguing about the most trivial of things. Just yesterday, they almost started a civil war because of some land disputes involving vaguely-written, carelessly-planned deeds. One of the maps wasn't even drawn to a proper scale! It's seriously getting on everyone's nerves, mine included."

"Well, last I checked, you were sent for diplomacy purposes."

"But not over shoddy paperwork! We were sent to frame a treaty between them, not handle misunderstandings that spanned for centuries! The only thing they all could agree upon was demanding that Equestria does something about whatever that giant ray of light was!"

"I mean," I stifled a snort. "At least they agreed on something."

"Well, when you put it that way."

A sputter, before the both of us broke into a hearty fit of giggles. I remembered a radiance swelling from my chest then, like something from the past had reached ahead in time to take me into its embrace. I watched winsomely as Twilight, sinking in strained solemnity merely a minute ago, emerge from it with a looseness long needed. It was already rare enough to meet her face to face; it was rarer still to bask in her laughter. Consider me, in that very moment, a very, very lucky mare indeed.

"How about you? How's your research going, Professor?"

"Well, Your Highness—" I held back my giggles where Twilight didn't even bother to try. "—we still don't have much to go on. The team's been working hard for months now. Can't believe it's been months already."

"And now, you're going to be part of this expedition."

"I guess I am."

"You can still back out if you wanted to," Twilight pointed out, suddenly adopting a more serious tone. "I know, I know, the expedition is really important and the world might be at stake, yes, but I honestly think there's more than enough ponies going already. Honestly speaking, I'd prefer that you'll stay behind and work on your research instead of this."

"I think I can do both. Professor Brightward did mention that I might get a kick of inspiration with a different view, and what better view is there than that of the ocean itself? If anything comes up, I can always write back to my team. They're perfectly capable of performing experiments without me telling them what to do all the time. Besides," I paused to widen my grin, "if anything happens, I'm pretty sure I can take care of myself. Might need a refresher on basic self-defense spells though. Nothing a book and some practice can't handle."

"Well, if you say so. Still, once we're done with the whole royal family fiasco over here, we'll be heading straight to Cape Silverwatch to join you guys."

"Wow," I whistled. "No breaks?"

"No breaks." Twilight was rather adamant when she said that. "If anything happens that requires our expertise, per se, then we can help out. And hey, you might finally get the chance to meet the rest of the girls!"

It's somewhat intimidating to meet with all six of the bearers of the Elements of Harmony in a single go. Sure, I've known Twilight for years, and sure, I've met Pinkie Pie briefly when she helped organize my birthday party that one time, but it definitely was an idea I found that I have to get used to one day. They're her fellow friends, after all, much like myself, yet my concerns persisted nonetheless. "I'm not sure if I can gel with your friends as well as you do, to be honest," I admitted right out.

"You'll come around to them. Trust me! I would know!"

Another pair of giggles, before we began indulging in our more casual of conversations, nothing notable that anyone else needed to be privy to. I cannot fathom what she made of them, but for me, it was my last such conversation I could have with her before saying our fondest farewells and setting off on this great expedition. It was a reminder that even at its dimmest, there was always a welcoming brilliance in the limelight that is life. It was a reminder telling me that I must return alive and well from this expedition once all was said and done, that there was still a lot of time left to savor all the world's prospects, including those of my own bidding.

It was a promise I made to myself — a promise to come back to her, safe and sound — and it was a promise that I intend to keep.

No matter what.

.

.

The days leading up to the scheduled date of the expedition were hectic, for we have arranged it so with utmost consideration for the perceived urgency of the situation. We began by negotiating an arrangement for the Society to provide monthly subsidies for the entire duration of our expedition. Once we've settled our funding, we then moved on to accumulate all necessary reference tools and equipment required to aid us in any way, shape or form. As we will be making our journey by carriage, we were told that there was a need for several trips back and forth to haul all our tools here. Thirdly, we began an assignment of roles for each member of the expedition, of which we unanimously voted will be headed by our most senior and, considering his field of study, most experienced in excursionary matters, Professor Brightward. He was reluctant to take on the post at first but ultimately relented out of sheer frustration from our constant pestering.

Our team of thirteen, surprisingly, had expertise on most of the scientific fronts, with Professor Brightward specializing in both geography and geology, and myself in magic and astronomy. Apart from the two of us, we have four from the physics department and three from the mathematics department — all six of whom were experienced mechanics and engineers — two from chemistry, one from biology and one from meteorology. Once again, apart from us thirteen, to help lessen the load, we've also brought along, should we have any, our team of assistants, my ragtag team included. I had some qualms bringing Silica, Redshift and Jade along; as bright and brilliant as they may be, their relative inexperience in proper fieldwork is a concern, and for them to participate in what essentially is a high profile expedition may be more than they can handle. However, I decided that it is only sensible that they come along, for the only way to combat inexperience is to provide them the experience themselves.

Once I mentioned everything to them, they were ecstatic, partially because of the prominence of our destination as a beautiful tourist trap, but also because of the intrigue. They wore the same looks of fascination as when I first detailed to them our mission of uncovering the existential philosophies that make up the ocean. It was their calling, as Silica couldn't put it more inaptly— the greatest expedition that they would ever partake in their lives. I may scoff, but I would admit that some part of me couldn't help but believe those words to be true.

Apart from us researchers and jolly assistants, there was also the Royal Guard— a single platoon of twenty-seven was assigned to escort us from Canterlot to Cape Silverwatch, where we are to rendezvous with the remainder of the guards already posted there, led by the captain overseeing both our expedition and the security of the region, Sergeant First Class Vale Brackens. Also, with the fact that this was a royally sanctioned expedition, we were also required to have someone from the Royal Archives to document all proceedings made in the expedition. As the lead archivist was too old to make such a long and tiring journey, we were instead graced with the company of his lead assistant instead: none other than Vellum Bound himself. Of course, when he found out, he quickly wrote to me, excited for being able to participate in what he calls 'history in the making' and being able to share in the exhilaration of this once-in-a-lifetime experience with all of us. Considering all the grand plans put in place so far, I'm inclined to share it as well.

With all preparations completed, we set off for Cape Silverwatch a week later, all to discover the secrets of the Emancipation. There was no uproarious fanfare when we left, though we were given the blessings of the princesses in the throne room before our eventual departure. Looking at us all, bright-faced and brimful of determination before the visages of royalty, it was then that I realized that whatever comes our way, we will make sure that we'll get to the bottom of it. Whatever happens, every one of us involved will ensure that this expedition will be a resounding success.

It should be.

It will be.

No matter what.

IV

.

IV

.

Cape Silverwatch was a three-day trip away from Canterlot. It was situated on Voskós Crook, a large, rocky Manehatten-sized island off a section of the western Equestrian coastline close to the borders of the southern deserts, connected to the mainland only by an isthmus. The island was mostly forested with a pair of tall mountains in the center, the town itself taking up most of its eastern coastline. Formerly used as a fortress for detaining prisoners in times of bitter conflict, which was destroyed in a fiery explosion as a result of some gunpowder barrels being struck by lightning, it was rebuilt as a small merchant village and trading port, drawing in settlers from all over and quickly became one of the most recognized tourist destinations in all of Equestria.

A total of seventeen carriages — nine for us professors and assistants, four for the guard, and four for transporting our combined equipment and supplies — were chartered for our expedition, setting off from the capital through Ponyville and stopping for a night at Appleloosa, before making a leisurely trip towards Seaward Shoals. As the path from then onward was precarious and too narrow for our carriages to pass through, we had to finish the remainder of the trip on our four hooves, hauling what equipment we could carry for the time being. The rest of our equipment will be brought over in the next few days, as I've mentioned earlier, with a select number of guards assigned to stay behind at Seaward Shoals to keep watch until they've all been fully transported.

We arrived at our destination on summer's eve, sighing in sheer relief when the town's blue-domed roofs emerged from between the last of the rocky hills. The final downward bends of the dirt path before us faded into a road of rigid cobblestone, bridging the rest of the world with this quaint sanctuary. Marking the town entrance on the other end of it was an alabaster archway, adorned with carved bells of bronze that sway heftily in the stray coastal winds with the glummest of tolls. It was perhaps not the grandest welcome for us into the pearlescent embrace of Cape Silverwatch, yet it was breathtaking all the same, for there were many beautiful things that mere images conjured in an auditorium could never hope to capture: the distant waltz of the waves, the fuzzy and frivolous scent of the ocean, the calm and soothing ambiance flowing between the whitewashed walls, the gentle caress of each individual stone beneath our hooves as we made our way into the town. One would proclaim that Cape Silverwatch was a paradise that prospered down to its smallest detail, to which I say it's a proclamation well-founded.

Briefly handing over our permits and other relevant documents for inspection, the guards posted at the archway soon escorted us through the city. Despite the circumstances surrounding the Emancipation, the narrow streets were still filled with ponies trotting about, taking in all the sights and sounds that this otherworldly place has to offer. The local ponies greeted us with the brightest and gracious of smiles; a technique mastered from year after year of welcoming tourists. We had leisurely traversed through the winding streets, the domiciles around us no taller than that of three ponies stacked on top of each other, their walls painted a glossy white. Almost around every corner, there was an outdoor cafe, if not a shop selling scented candles and mosaic pottery. There were some notable sights, like a small library overlooking the ocean and a winery, and were it not for our expedition, I would not hesitate to arrange a visit.

We were lead to the Silverwatch Guards Barracks, one of the town's several multistoried buildings standing tall amid the low-lying houses by the mountainside. According to Vellum, the structure itself was once a monastery, built back in the early days when worshiping Princess Celestia as the Goddess of the Sun was still common practice. Remnants of that past still remain, as evidenced by the sun motifs on the wrought iron gates that we passed by as we entered, as well as the now-empty belfry jutting from the roof of the barracks. Cantering across the tiled grounds to the entrance, scattering a flock of pigeons in the process, we were asked to place our luggage aside, before we were brought to the main offices. In there, the guards gathering around a large table had their eyes glued intently to the various assortments of documents and photographs fanned out before them, only to perk up when they've noticed our entrance.

"You must be the expedition team Her Royal Highness had sent," one of the ponies spoke up and approached us, his coat a dark mulberry and his royal yellow mane tied into a braided bun. He looked to be in his late thirties, if not early forties if the slight creases on his forehead were of any indication. His tangerine gaze, though sincere, was piercing, carefully eyeing each and every one of us as he stuck out a hoof towards Professor Brightward, who shook it flusteredly. "Sergeant First Class Vale Brackens. A pleasure to finally meet."

"Professor Slate Brightward, expedition leader. Likewise."

A nod. "Her Royal Highness wasn't kidding this time when she mentioned an expedition team," he remarked, before letting out a chuckle. "No offense meant, f'course. We don't get much visitors on business here, royal or otherwise."

"Considering the locale, I'd expect it to be so," Professor Brightward responded as such, the two of them sharing a light laugh; something tells me that he and the sergeant are going to enjoy each other's company. "I suppose that you have been briefed on our prospects from my last letter."

"I was just running it over with the company, in fact." With a cock of his head, he beckoned us over to the table. Getting a closer look, there were some photographs of Latreia's Lagoon, the atoll which was also the supposed source of the Emancipation. What caught everyone's eyes, however, were the multitude of pictures showing the turquoise doors of several different homes around town, their surfaces all splattered in various crisscrosses of what I'm hoping was red paint. It unsettled me as it did everyone else, even some of the guard, though the sergeant was not one of them.

"They're pretty much the reason why I've requested another platoon from Canterlot," he said with a grimace. "Been happening since that light came up in the sky, so says the locals. All I can say is our vandals must really love the occult."

"It shouldn't be a concern for us. Right?" I asked the question on our team's mind.

"Don't think so. Vandalism is no stepping stone to anything too drastic. Certain it's just a bunch of yobs looking to ruffle a few feathers. Nothing a stern warning couldn't fix. Just a pain to manage this and your expedition at the same time, that's all." Sergeant Brackens cantered off to the side before returning with some files. "I suppose we have a lot to talk about what our plans are for the next few days. Perhaps it's best you all settle in first, though I need one pony from the team to stay behind and help me with looking over the necessary papers. I know this is royal business and all, but the bureaucracy here would be after my flank if we don't have the proper warrants. Any volunteers?"

It was pretty obvious to everyone on the team who can best fill that position. With a rough nicker, Professor Brightward turned to the rest of us, his frown growing when faced with all our sheepish smiles.

"You've heard the sergeant. Get to it."

We had the privilege of having the proper accommodations arranged for us at the behest of the princesses. For the whole duration of our expedition, we were sojourned at the Polytima, a hotel located several blocks down the street from the barracks. It was a modest establishment, as most things are in Cape Silverwatch, easily blending in with all the homesteads along the hilly pathways. Despite that, we remained in awe of its amenities the moment we trotted inside the lobby, for the Polytima reveled in simplicity, what with the rattan swing chairs hanging from the ceiling instead of the usual lobby couches and the aquamarine bottle lamps glimmering upon the driftwood tables. The reception counter was itself a craggy stone slab that seemed to have been dredged out from the bottom of the ocean, behind from which stood a mare of a pale beige coat and swirly coral mane tied up into a ponytail, her smile as pleasant as the hotel itself.

"The name's Olive Branch, owner of the Polytima," she said with a practiced dip of her head. "I know this place doesn't seem like much compared to many others, but we do the best we can. It really, really is an honor to grace all of you with our hospitality."

"We'll be in your care," I spoke up for the team as the hotel staff scurried over to tend to our bags. "Do you happen to know a good place for dinner?"

"Oh, well I..." she feigned a cough. "Well, I personally recommend the restaurant across the street, two blocks down. Their salads are particularly exquisite. They come in pretty sizable servings too! B-But not that you needed to know that, of course!"

Olive's words really had been a gross understatement; we had ordered six bowls of lentil salads, which as it turns out was equivalent to almost twenty-four bowls back in Canterlot. We had also ordered three bottles of a locally-brewed liqueur known as kitron, the dreadful amount of which actually arrived at our table I refuse to divulge to anyone else to this very day. Despite our blunder, we quickly turned it around when Silica suggested making it a celebratory welcome feast, and we did exactly that, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. Professor Brightward could only groan and shake his head when he and the sergeant joined us a little later, though he was quick to warm up to the idea once he had his first glass. Now, if you had asked me, our first night in Cape Silverwatch went without a hitch. Some of the others would disagree, though I would like to add that they were also the ones who had passed out after having one too many drinks at the dinner table. All in all, it was a wonderful feast, even if we had only been celebrating our arrival.

"Think your best bet would be the graphene antenna I mentioned earlier," I faintly recalled from that night the words of Professor Sinusoid, one of the four head physicists on the expedition team. It was deep into the night then. Half of the team had fallen asleep at the dinner table whereas the rest of us were still conversing among ourselves, trying our best to delay our eventual submission to slumber, be it by fatigue or alcohol. "It's still in its preliminary stages, but we have so far tested it with N-O1 ethereal waves modulated down to a frequency of a T-lux. If we go by our experiment alone, it's highly likely you'll get some results."

I thanked him for his insight, having approached him to inquire about acquiring the proper apparatus for future experiments. Even after such a raucous celebration, I believed I shouldn't remain idle in my pursuit of the ocean's best-kept secrets. With all these fellow society members around, I had thought it best to approach them, hoping to broaden my perspective and diversify the palette of options laid before me, though I do concede that it may not have been done at the most appropriate setting, considering that most of them were in a drunken stupor at the time.

My team of assistants were no different— well, most of them, as Silica loathed being around alcohol and had been so long before I even met her. She immediately took her leave once she finished up her share of the salad and the drinks started coming in, shooting her rare and elusive grimace at the bottles as she left. On the contrary, I'm pretty sure Redshift and Jade each emptied out more than a few bottles by themselves, though the latter pony had already dozed off on her coltfriend's shoulder by the time I saw them again. Upon noticing my lingering stare, Red gave me a flimsy wave, to which I responded with a terse nod.

Vellum, last I saw, had been deep in conversation with Professor Brightward and Sergeant Brackens; I imagined he had many an inquiry regarding the historical background and cultural makeup of Cape Silverwatch. The trio were still talking when I found them on the restaurant's external wooden deck, standing at the balcony and looking out into the ocean with bottles in hoof. The sergeant was the first to notice my presence, greeting me with a cordial nod as I made my way towards them. "Everything okay, Miss?" he asked.

"Just wanted to join in. Everyone else is a little preoccupied at the moment." I turned my glance to my two fellow academics still staring out into the ocean. "Can you see it from here? Latreia's Lagoon?"

Professor Brightward gestured towards a patch of ocean northwest, hidden behind the isle's rocky cliffs. "Thirty to fifty-five minutes' ride in that direction. Got some treacherous rocks that we'll have to make our way around. The tides there can be really choppy in a storm, so we may have to do some rescheduling if the weather's acting up."

"Not that the locals here would be insane enough to want to go there when it's raining anyway," the sergeant piped up. "They can brave a storm or two, but not on the way to the lagoon. The whole area's been known to sink a few ships, even in broad daylight."

"So wait, we're using the local sailors to help us?" I asked him.

"The veteran sailors, of course. They know these waters better than anyone. Plus, their schooners can carry any heavy equipment that your team had brought here." Sergeant Bracken was visibly troubled as he said that. "Now, I don't suppose the team's going to do anything to the lagoon itself?"

"No," the three of us said in unison. "Never," Vellum added exasperatedly.

"Good. Caught the ire of some folks when they heard about where the expedition was taking place. Some of them didn't want their little lagoon to be trampled upon."

"With good reason!" Vellum (again) blurted out a little too loudly. He turned to us expectantly, only to gawk at our blank stares, mine in particular. "Et tu, Moondancer? Seriously? It's a cultural heritage site! On top of it being a natural wonder, it's the site of the garrison instrumental in a land-to-sea skirmish that successfully repelled the Vattensprang Raiders in the Battle of the Five Trenches! Two hundred ponies against three thousand invaders in two weeks!"

"Well, I'm glad you know our history, even if it's a little embellished," the sergeant replied with an awkward chuckle. "It was also a pilgrimage site back in the day, though most ponies tend to gloss over that fact. Pagan worship's still a touchy subject for some, apparently."

I found myself looking back to the lagoon. "So, what do you think's waiting for us there?"

"Coral, if you're lucky," Professor Brightward responded. "Fish. Saltwater."

"Sand," Vellum added, stifling a snort. "Lots of sand."

I momentarily despaired at how aggravating my fellow professors can be at times.

"That sounds about right," Sergeant Brackens laughed along. "Anything more than the usual, I'd say we'll have every right to be worried."

"Since we're on the topic, you were here, right Sergeant?" I asked a question that has no doubt been lingering on the team's mind. "When the light shot up in the sky that day, you were here, weren't you?"

A curt sigh. "We saw a light coming from around where the lagoon was, just like the rest of the world, that's it." Sergeant Bracken's frown hardened for a brief second when he said that. "Look, I've had ponies from out of town pestering the townsfolk over and over if there was anything else we saw. Truth is, we're as clueless as anyone else. I wish I can make up some things just so we can get this all over with, but that's not my job. No, my job's to do what's best for the city, and right now, it just so happens to involve helping all of you."

I wanted to protest, but Professor Brightward gave me a light nudge.

"I know you've all discussed whatever great big ramifications were there in this world back in the capital, but out here, you should know we don't really care about those things," Sergeant Brackens continued. "All we care about is whether we can all go back to live our normal lives, some of us more so than others. As the days go by, you might find that those ponies may be a little more than happy to prove that."

"Was that supposed to be a threat?"

Vellum, unwisely, made that claim.

"That was a warning, Mr. Bound, but feel free to take it as you see fit," the sergeant pointedly responded with a glower. "We want answers more than anypony else, don't get me wrong. Are we willing to discard our livelihoods in the process of obtaining it? That I wonder."

"We just want to help," I spoke up in our defense. "Honest to goodness."

"I know, Miss. That's why I'm alright with your team coming here in the first place, but you must know that there may be some things here that cannot be helped in the first place, no matter how hard you try. Believe me, I've learned that the hard way." Sergeant Brackens cast his gaze out the balcony again, this time to the homesteads below us. "Cape Silverwatch is home to these folks, Professor, and they would defend it passionately against anything they see as a threat to their daily lives. Anything. And if enough of them deem that the threat is you?"

The sergeant downed the last of his bottle.

"Then you're gonna have a bigger problem than an apocalypse in your hooves."

Sergeant Brackens's grim words had echoed in my head for a while, even after we've returned to our hotel rooms. I think I must've mulled over them for almost an hour in the dark with only the distant sprays of the ocean in the background to keep me company. I found myself looking out at the town sometimes, wondering just what Princess Twilight would do were she here right now. After all, she's always the one who sets out on expeditions to save Equestria. I had considered writing to her to enquire about it, only to decide otherwise as I realize she may still be busy with her negotiational efforts in the northwest. Nonetheless, I wholeheartedly believed that our expeditionary efforts would be solely secluded to Latreia's Lagoon, and in no way would it affect the rest of the town.

To an extent, I was right.

"Professor Moondancer! Professor~! Wakey wakey, Prof!"

"Okay, I'm up, I'm up!" I pleaded for mercy, my hooves immediately fumbling in search of my glasses. "I'm up, Silica, I'm up, now can you please stop shaking me? Go check on Red and Jade for me, please."

"Will do, Prof!"

I suppose that's what I get for sharing a connected room with Silica Summerwind, not that I minded. I can't say for certain that it's a prospect I'll be looking forward to for the rest of our stay here, but she would be a great listener, should I need one. It may be surprising, but she can be attentive at the most important of times. Then again, with how much she idolizes me, it may just be an attitude she reserves towards me.

"Red and Jade are awake, Prof!" Silica declared, skipping back into our room. "Jade's still in the toilet from last night, so they might take a while. Red says sorry."

"It's fine, they probably won't be the only ones anyway." Pretty sure the rest of the team were still hungover as well, if the light migraine at the back of my head was of any indication. "Guess our expedition's gonna start off a little late."

True to my words, the expedition team had rendezvoused at the wharf seventeen minutes behind schedule. Professor Brightward spared no words in castigating us on the way there, though I admit I was personally too weary to catch even a snippet of what he said. Sergeant Brackens was already there waiting for us and chatting with two gruff-looking ponies, all of them chuckling when they spotted us dragging our hooves along the pier.

"Team looks worse for wear, Professor Brightward!" the sergeant remarked.

"They'll be fine, won't we?" he turned to the rest of us, who could only groan and nod in concession. "I'm pretty sure a little boat ride would wake them right up."

A snort. "If you say so." Sergeant Brackens gestured to the ponies by his side. "These two will be your captains for the expedition, Captain Kedge Hawsepiper of the Zenith and Captain Strake Holystone of the Eurus." Both of them stepped forward, the former nodding as he studied us, the latter tipping his captain's hat. "I've sent out a notice a week ago asking for help and they were the first to volunteer."

"Got our own crew and everything, so don't you worry none 'bout the heavy lifting," Captain Hawsepiper chirruped. "Just focus on figuring out the whole expedition business and leave the rest to us."

The expedition team was split into half to be assigned onto the ships, with my team of four joining Professor Brightward and Vellum Bound onto the Zenith along with the teams led by Professor Sinusoid and Professor Axion of the physics department, Professor Polyhedra of mathematics, Professor Octyne of chemistry, and Professor Corona, the team's lone biologist. The ships themselves were large carracks akin to those used by the naval explorers of yore, their triple-masted builds easily outsizing the many yachts and schooners around the harbor.

"Had her for a while now. My pride and joy," Captain Hawsepiper said, beaming when he noticed our marveled looks as he led us all up along the gangplank. "Can always rely on her for all my shipping work, but this'll be her first time being part of a full-fledged expedition! And to the lagoon, no less!"

"You've been to Latreia's Lagoon before, right?" Vellum slipped a question in.

"Many times, though not with a ship this big!" he bellowed with laughter. "Doubt you can fit her between the rocks without sinking her to the bottom anyway. Only way to get there is to anchor along the side, lower the rowboats and use those instead. We have some of the crew to manage with the rowing as well, so all you have to do is sit tight."

A collective sigh of relief washed over the team.

"Can't believe we're finally here," Jade said, looking out into the ocean once we placed all our satchels and equipment below deck. "Days and days of planning, all leading up to this."

"You excited?"

"Of course I am, Red! Aren't you?"

"I am, I am, it's just..." Redshift sighed as the three of us turned to glance at him. "What if there's nothing there? Like, what if we surveyed the whole place, top to bottom, and we find nothing?"

"Well, we could always try again tomorrow," I pointed out.

"Prof's right!" Silica gleefully whistled. "Plus, hello~? We're gonna be here for as long as everyone in this expedition wants to be! Princess Celestia got us all covered!"

"Yeah, I get that, but what if there's really nothing in the end, Silica? What then? What if this whole expedition ends up being a bust?"

Silence befell the four of us.

"Stop bumming us out, Red," Jade warned.

"I'm just saying—"

"Shut up. Shut. Up."

"JJ, I'm being realistic here—"

"—and I'm asking you not to ruin it for us, Redshift Ruff. I don't want to hear that coming from you. Anyone but you."

"I..." Red sighed again, before he let out a flustered chuckle. "S-Sorry, just... I guess I was just being nervous. I mean, look at where we are! Look at the ship! It's like we're part of the Equestrian Armada! Look at where we're heading! What we're doing! It's—I just—I... I dunno, I don't think my heart's ready for this."

"I don't think my heart's ready either," I admitted. "But hey, even if there really is nothing waiting for us in the end, at least we can say that we had a great time, right? This is Cape Silverwatch we're talking about! Having a great time's part and parcel of the experience!"

Red was quick to warm up that idea, and before long, we were once again chattering excitedly about the possibilities of discovering unrecognized sources of arcane energy on the atoll. I will admit, I hadn't expected Redshift Ruff of all ponies to be nervous about the fruits of our expedition. He was always steadfast and headstrong, sometimes to his detriment what with his brashness thrown into the mix. He may have a point of the expedition possibly leading us nowhere, but for it to come from the pony who would proudly proclaim 'we may never know if we do not try' on a weekly basis was slightly disconcerting. Jade shared my look of concern as well, and considering their relationship, I was certain she was more well-equipped at quashing any further qualms Red might have than I could ever be. With that in mind, I left it alone.

Thanks to the habitual efficiency of the crewmembers, the ships set off from the harbor at ten in the morning as scheduled. The journey to the atoll took a total of thirty-five minutes, though we spent another twenty after anchoring deliberating over our apparatus. Once the rowboats were lowered, it took another fifteen minutes of paddling around and in between the scattered steeples of rock, taking great care to avoid the errant tides before finally, finally, a slip of green emerged from between the treacherous towers.

Latreia's Lagoon was, by no means, small. It was easily twice the size of Canterlot, if not larger. We've safely made our landfall on the southeastern coastline and began by surveying the land in groups of four to six. To aid with that, we had prepared and provided to each group a Pylon of Surveillance, an invention of Professor Brightward's making which was basically a magic-infused crystal that acts as a repeater for surveillance-based spells. The pylons, six in total, were planted in the ground at designated checkpoints and activated with a magic-kindling spell which will keep them running for four months. As Professor Brightward had designed them to decay without any adverse effects once their deed is done, we wouldn't need to worry about requiring to retrieve them once our expedition comes to a close. Until then, the pylons would bounce any surveillance-based signals in between each other, of which can be received by a projection-based display that would accurately reproduce a live topographic map of the atoll that we can view back at Cape Silverwatch.

Apart from setting up the network of pylons, we were also tasked with collecting various samples of flora and fauna from different parts of the atoll to be brought back for temporametric dating. With most of the atoll covered in a dense forest, there were a lot to choose from. In addition to that, we also brought back some rocks and soil samples to analyze their mineral and chemical contents, and to compare them with samples found in Cape Silverwatch as well as other various samples from around Equestria that we had prepared in and brought from Canterlot. We've also collected some seawater samples from around the atoll for similar tests. The thought process we had in doing was as such: should the Emancipation alter the environment in any way shape or form, there will be an aberration in the concentration of contents of the samples around the atoll, whether it be arcane or mundane.

All in all, our first day on Latreia's Lagoon was spent on the above tasks. Subsequent days spent on the atoll amounted to further surveyance and a more exhaustive inspection of the atoll wherein we traversed through the humid forests and monitor for any manifestations of arcane phenomenon as well as noting down geographical landmarks to help in navigation for future voyages. Most of our time, however, was spent back on Cape Silverwatch, where we focused on analyzing our collected samples in hopes of finding any semblance of irregular elements. With how uneventful the days were as they dragged on by, I was constantly reminded of Red's uncertainty in the possible insignificance of the results this expedition would bear. Some nights, I found myself believing that would certainly be the case.

Once again, I was proven wrong.

It happened two weeks into our stay at Cape Silverwatch. We were opening up the makeshift laboratory the guards had reserved for us at the barracks like we did every morning. The lights were flipped on, the apparatus were all set up and ready to go for another long day of work. All of us were busy working and chattering among themselves, only to stop once Professor Brightward fired up the display with the topographical map of Latreia's Lagoon and we all took a glance, thinking it would just be another ordinary day.

"That... that wasn't there before..." Our leader's uncustomarily harried words were met with silence. "You're all seeing this, team? I'm not the only one dreaming this, am I?"

Stunned as he was, we all shook our heads, and with good reason.

For where there had previously only been just a black emptiness representing the seawater trapped in the haphazard lines forming the irregularly-shaped rim of the lagoon, there was now a minuscule blip right in the middle.

A blip that assumed the form of a perfect circle.

"Somepony go get the sergeant. Now."

abbreviation for naturally-occuring