The Hero's Journey

by Gabriel LaVedier

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Romance, Original Character, Big Macintosh, Adventure
Length: 34350

Ad Astra Per Aspera

There is a rumor of a legend of a story in Equestria. Of a creature, older than can be told, that can bridge the most painful gap. The gap between two hearts that long to know oneness. To clear away the barriers that stop love from fully blossoming.

Big Macintosh knows the pain of love that cannot be, without subjecting his lover to suffering and eventual existential torment that would consume her. So he undertakes the journey, to walk the path of the hero. He need not wait for the middle of the journey of his life. He will strive for his happiness. And Smarty-Pants' happiness as well.

(Yes, this is VERY much inspired by Dante's "Inferno" and "Purgatorio." As it goes on, you'll see the connections between broad elements and know why I didn't need to add "Paradiso.")

Published 2012-07-25 17:44:01 UTC
Last updated 2013-04-17 19:56:50 UTC

Introduction/Prologue

“We have heard a rumour, of a legend, of a tale...” Those were the words spoken by Princess Luna to the taciturn red stallion before her. He had not said anything to her after he had strolled into her chamber as part of the line of suit-bringers. He had had only a scroll with him, sealed with the mark of Twilight Sparkle. He had only given it over and stood there, silent, as it was read. He had originally been bound for Princess Celestia, but his identity had pushed him to the front of Luna's line. “Of a being, old as the land, existing elsewhere, in a land beyond the ken of mortal pony. But we must hear, of thine own will, what thou wishest.”

Big Macintosh did not even hesitate. He reached into his horse collar and pulled out the limp, well-loved doll named Smarty-Pants. “Ah wants her alive. Not livin' and dyin' day after day. Ah wants her alive and by mah side, fer as long as ah live. Ah wants mah Smarty-Pants, t'have an' t'hold. And fer her to be able t'say, she wants me back.”

Luna was silent, a long while, her coldly-neutral look breaking, just slightly and for only a moment. Something in Big Macintosh moved her sympathy. Her horn glowed lightly, a scroll popping into being and floating slowly over to the red stallion. “We may offer thee naught, saving this. 'Tis all thou shalt need, if thou be true to thy lover and thy heart be unspotted pure.”

The scroll turned out to be nothing more than a nearly-blank piece of paper, with a small drawing of Ponyville, and an arrow that pointed off into the distance. If the scale was right it was a long, long trek across land he knew was mostly blank and bare. “Ah thank you kindly, yer majesty. Ah'd best get ta hikin'. Miss Smarty-Pants needs ta get ta life. Ah miss her so much...” He hugged the doll tightly to his chest, then gingerly tucked her down into the horse collar again.

“Stay!” Luna called out in the Royal Canterlot Voice, almost making Big Macintosh wobble on his hooves. “Stay thy hooves. Thou hast seen the scrawl. Thy heart be sure. Shall we aide thee in thy first, trembling steps. See my maid, the fair Lime Sherbert, and give her this.” Another scroll popped into being before Big Macintosh. “Fare thee well, Big Macintosh Apple. Fair roads and strong hooves to thee.”

The grasslands stretched on, as far as the eye could see, in all directions. The going was slower than it had been for the first leg of the journey. The second scroll had been a requisition order, swiftly carried out through the quick, decisive actions of the green-colored maid. He had been issued a Lunar guard corp rucksack, filled with nutritious compressed rations and fresh water. He had been provided with a single piece of enchanted parchment, to be used to arrange a return rendezvous. And lastly, he had been placed aboard a small, light, quick airship, with all navigation provided by him.

There were no landmarks on the map, only Ponyville and the arrow pointing off into the distance. The airship captain, with some of the fancy mathematics and using the locations of Canterlot and Ponyville, had figured out a way to intercept the line and follow it.

The scenery flew past beneath the airship, chasing along through the fields and mountains until they reached a sudden expanse of grassland. The captain flew deep into the expanse of tall grass, then lowered the vessel. Big Macintosh was allowed off of the deck of the ship, and pointed in the same direction as the arrow had pointed. With the job done, the airship pulled up from the waving sea of grass and sped off, back towards familiar lands.

Big Macintosh had been walking since then, the sun mild and dropping slowly in the sky. He tried not to think about the eerie silence of the place. Aside from the occasional rustle of the tall grass no birds sang and no animals made a sound. Even for a quiet stallion like Big Mac, the all-consuming silence was disconcerting. And there was also the scenery. There essentially was none. The grass seemed to go on forever, down to every point on the horizon, with no trees to break the expanse; his own trail was swallowed up by the springing grass, making it seem like he occupied a single, static point.

But even despite that, he trotted on, set as rigidly as he could manage, in the direction that he had been pointed. It was a strange situation. The sun provided a point of reference, allowing him to have at least a base idea that he wasn't just going in circles. But that hardly helped him get over the growing sense of futility as the grass continued unabated in all directions.

Big Mac pulled Smarty-Pants from his collar and hugged her against his chest. “Don't you worry none, Miss Smarty-Pants. Ah ain't gonna give up. Ah'm gonna bring you back ta life and keep ya there. Ah promise.” He kissed the limp doll and placed her back in his collar, pressing on boldly. Almost like magic, he saw a new feature out in in the distance. Just the slightest break in the surroundings. The very top of a distant tree.

He broke out into a rapid gallop, focused on that tree like it was a sign from Celestia herself. His pounding legs beat down the grass wildly as he careened forward. The tree rose up, higher and higher. It looked gnarled but alive, thickly-leafed and twisted all about. He couldn't identify the particular type; it almost didn't matter. It was the first anomaly he had found all day. And that was significant.

He reached the tree with a skid and a slight stumble. The twisted trunk reached up for the sky, while the canopy provided a bit of shade, further changing the character of the formerly-monotonous grassland. He trotted around the base of the tree, seeking out any sign at all. The ancient tree bore the signs of prior passing, the bark of the trunk marked up all over with names and initials, most of them contained in hearts. Some of the names and initials were scratched out or picked away, though there was no pattern to the erasures.

He considered it for a moment, tentatively reaching out to touch the weathered trunk. A sudden bolt of magic ran through him, seeming to seal his hoof to the bark. A magical bolt leaped out and struck inside his collar, Smarty-Pants drawn out by the magic and one of her arms reaching out to touch the tree beside the hoof. There was a sudden flash of light, which threw Big Mac and Smarty-Pants back. Even as he was thrown the red stallion was able to reach out and grab the flying doll before she hit the ground.

The tree was glowing with an inner light, concentrated most strongly on the spot the two had just touched. Letters glowed upon the tree trunk, BMA + S-P. Smarty-Pants was settled back into the collar, Big mac slowly standing up and approaching the tree. “Well... what now, magical thing? What do ah gotta do?”

The answer came in the form of a loud buzzing from the very height of the tree. In the magical glow Big Mac could finally see that high in the tree was a beehive. And the bees were apparently awake, and pretty angry. He didn't have Granny Smith's skill with the critters. All he had was his legs, and he used them.

The bees buzzed almost angrily behind him, and occasionally from the side, making him turn this way or that. At some point, in the back of his head, he thought that the bees almost seemed to be directing him in some fashion. But he could not think on it too long. He could only run, his ears pricked by the faint sound of running water. That became his new focus, his hooves pointed towards the faint rush.

A ribbon of flowing blue met his gaze, as did a strange, hooded figure. Big Mac could only see a dark brown cloak and hood, the rest lost to the grass on the other side of the river. The figure rose and lifted up a hoof to the front of the cloak, a puff of breath casting forward a golden-green cloud that passed over Big Mac and the swarm of bees. Immediately, the bees calmed greatly, and actually turned and flew away.

Big Mac stood by the water's edge, panting heavily, gulping in great lungfuls of air and letting his heart return to a level that no longer resembled the kind of thumping after a session of applebucking. He finally looked up to the mysterious figure and nodded his huge head. “Th-thank ya kindly. Ah don't know what got into them critters. Mah Granny handles them types better.”

The figure was silent at first, slowly moving out of the grass and crossing the shallow portion of the stream. Golden bracelets jangled on his right front leg and both rear legs. On his front left leg was a single large gold ring that looked for all the world like an Equestrian wedding band. Up those legs were black stripes, the rest lost behind the cloak. The figure was carrying a staff against itself, using it to occasionally support its walking. It slipped the hood back, to reveal the face of an ancient zebra. He had a thick, curling beard, several gold earrings, and a very stern but wise visage. “So, young one. You seek the one that bridges the gaps between hearts. But how strange you come alone. No... not quite alone. I feel not another breath, but I feel the envelope of mana that tells of a mind locked away. May I see?”

Big Mac reached into the collar and took out Smarty-Pants. He looked curiously at the ancient zebra. “Ah ain't never seen many zebras, 'ceptin' mah lil sister's fiancee. Errr, the littler sister. An' they ain't so much engaged as... gonna be engaged. Still, she talks all purty-like, and she rhymes all the time. Ah thought that's how the zebra folk talked.”

The old stallion cracked a very slight smile, and nodded his head grandly. “Some do not and some do rhyme,/ But not all do it all the time.” He leaned on the staff and motioned with his head. “Come with me, young lovers. Come across the river and begin your journey.”

“Bu-but... wait a minute. Uhh, sir.” Big Macintosh followed haltingly but stopped before the river's water. Thought the old zebra crossed it easily, he felt some trepidations deep within.

“Youngster... come along. You showed yourself worthy to come here. Were the signs wrong about the love you supposedly hold?”

“Ah jes... what's yer name? Ah need ta know the name of the stallion ah'm gonna follow.”

The zebra was silent for a time, then walked on. “The journey is long to reach the granter of desires. There will come time enough to talk on such. If you love her so greatly, you will follow along and trust that you can conquer what might come of the unknown.”

Though still uncertain, Big Mac looked to Smarty-Pants, glancing into her mismatched button eyes. He placed her back into his collar and boldly stepped into the cool water of the stream.

Over the river, across the lea

The river seemed unfathomably deep and impassably wide. Big Macintosh lost purchase on the bed almost as soon as he was at the center of it. He trod water immediately, keeping his head up and collar high. He couldn't let Smarty-Pants get waterlogged. She was getting wet anyhow, simply because of his bobbing, but he was doing his best to minimize it.

He had never been much of a swimmer, just competent enough to paddle around in the pond without drowning. Now he was fighting the rush of water. It wasn't overly swift, but he was not eager to be moved down the body of the river and lose sight of his guide.

That guide was standing placidly on the other side, regarding him with his bright eyes, long beard waving slightly as he watched the floundering stallion. Big Macintosh fought hard to keep his head above water and Smarty-Pants safe. But as he splashed and pounded at the water's surface to keep himself above it, he called out, “Y'all mind lendin' a hoof?!”

A discomforting stare followed, as did silence, broken only by the desperate splashing. “I crossed the river of division with a mare. I had no guide to bring me across. We had only each other. How much do you love her?”

The words had the desired effect. Big Macintosh stopped seeking the long-gone river bottom and ceased flailing like a crazy being. He unified the motion of his hooves, pushing against the water with a coordinated will, stroke after stroke keeping his collar high and body shoving forward across the river that grew smaller and smaller as he made his way across it. With only a little more concentrated effort he had done it. His hooves found purchase on the ground of the bank and he pulled himself out of the water with a hard gasp and shake of his head.

“Your situation is different. You must be strong for both of you. She is counting on you, every trot of the way. Your strength is hers. If you fall, she falls.” With a tap of the staff, the zebra turned and began to walk away.

Big Mac turned back to look at the raging torrent he had just crossed. He saw nothing more than the little river he had seen his guide easily ford. With a shake of his head and the slap of his wet mane, he turned around again, taking Smarty-Pants out and laying her across his back to air her out and hopefully dry her. “Wait! Ah never got yer name.”

“Perhaps at another time. Nothing would be solved or helped by my telling you that.” The pair walked on, the pace set by the zebra. He was surprisingly spry for an old stallion walking with a stick. After a space of silence he went on, “I do not mean to be unkind, young stallion. But this is a long journey. And though I can see you are a taciturn fellow, even with little conversation, we would run out quickly. And then what?”

Big Mac slowly nodded his head, plodding along at the set clip, to give Smarty-Pants plenty of time in the sun, which was suddenly quite bright and full. “Mm, s'pose yer right, mister. No sense in needless chatterboxin' an' suchlike. Jes like ta know who ah'm travelin' with.”

“I understand you, youngster. All I can say is that you can trust me.” The zebra hummed softly. “Yes, I know... but have you another idea about what you should do aside from following behind me?”

“Eenope...” The big red stallion dipped his head thoughtfully, watching the surroundings pass slowly, again an expanse of identical landscape. But unlike on the other side of the river, the grass was much lower and softer. The landscape was not a flat expanse, but rolled gently, with a few small hills visible. “Mighty nice place y'all got here mister. Looks right homey.”

The zebra nodded his head. “It is not mine to take credit for. This gentle lea is, indeed, a very wonderful place. Would you care to lay yourself down and rest here? I'm sure you could find life in here a very good one. Plenty to eat, at the very least. And water back there at the river.”

Big Mac looked up at the sky. Bight and blue, with scattered clouds and a bright sun beaming down on the scene. The grass DID look tasty, with thick blades lacking a rigid, sharpened edge. It was certainly a good place to put down roots. A perfect spot for a homestead. “Gotta keep movin'. Miss Smarty-Pants can't move. An' y'all said yerself ah'm the one movin' her along.”

The other stallion gave a slight nod and smiled just a touch as he walked on, perhaps a bit faster than he had been before. “Some choose to stop here. It is warm and pleasant and peaceful. Certainly, the granter is far from here, and their deepest desires remain unfulfilled. But sometimes there is no real need. Sometimes it is sufficient to have this sort of comfort. The problems may have been only scenery. Thus some will come only this far.”

Silence flowed in after the explanation of the temptation, both males moving on at the newly-increased pace, with Big Mac stopping to check on Smarty-Pants and her state of recovery from the river. His guide did not halt during the inspection, leaving the pony to gallop to catch up, making the stuffed doll bounce wildly on his back. “Ah don' mean ta pry into yer past, but ya seem ta know the place. Y'all have been through here. Did... did ya stop in this place an' make yerself happy with that mare ya mentioned?”

Another thick blanket of quiet rolled in, with the soft rustle of grass underhoof breaking the notion that all sound had simply died. “To be far away was certainly a good thing. And it helped to find a beautiful place under a friendly sky. But that was not simply the end of it. There was more to it than could be fixed by pretty days and fresh grass. Our desires were deeper, and our needs greater. We did not settle, as other did and will do. We trotted on. But I had no way of knowing that was the right thing. I only knew it did not suit our needs to lay down and accept things.”

The sole response was an understanding grunt, Big Mac contemplating his state. He was alone. The guide would only point the way, and never help him. He faced the temptations alone. With her. But without her. She saw what he did. But she could not help even if every fiber in her cloth body screamed out for it. Without the animating force, she was like any other doll.

He took her off of his back and brought her up for a kiss. “No. Not like any other...”

“What is that? What are you saying back there, young one? Do try to understand that I am a very old zebra. I don't hear the way I used to when I first walked the road to the granter.” The pace was unchanged, moving along with a purpose and a will, towards a darkened area of the horizon that had suddenly reached Big Mac's notice.

“T'wasnt nuthin' aimed at ya, sir. I was jes makin' sure Miss Smarty-Pants knew how ah felt 'bout her an' knew ah was gonna see it through.” After another kiss, he tucked the doll back into his horse collar. He became increasingly aware of a noise, coming from the distance, a very faint sound that had a touch of sharpness about it. “If ah may ask, jes where is it we's headin'?”

In lieu of an answer, the old zebra asked a question of his own. “Tell me, young stallion, do you know what 'incontinence' means?”

“Eeyup.” Big Mac answered, with a sad shake of his head. “We's all worried that Granny's gonna need ta wear them 'special' clothes come her next birthday 'r so on account of, she ain't getting younger...”

“No, young one. There is an even older definition. It is to be unrestrained, to not hold back a thing, in deed and thought. If you cannot control yourself in that sense, then you never should have crossed the lea. Or even the river. You may not think much of physical challenge, but base temptation will surely try you once you leave this place.”

“Eenope. T'aint gonna happen. Ah'm not like the types that'll jes give in.” Big Mac puffed his chest out proudly, though returned to his prior posture as the noise which had been in the background became more audible. It was a whistling, rushing noise, as of the rush of air. And given his middle sibling's fiancee, he was quite familiar with noises like that.

“I do not doubt you feel so deep within you, young one. I do not doubt it at all. And I applaud that bravado and certainty. Maybe you HAVE been tested somehow, back in your regular life. I hope it served you and steeled you. Here you need only will. But a lot of it.” The zebra pointed to a newly-appeared feature, a cliff's edge. Down below in the valley was the sound of a tempest, with the wind rushing around through the oddly-shaped canyons and hole-filled heights that lay spread out like the tunnels of some colony of tremendous worms. “It stretches across as far as the limit of your muscles, and never ends, not even to taunt you. You cannot trot aside. Only through.”

Sieve of the Incontinent

The two stallions plunged into the valley, the old zebra moving in an odd fashion which made no sense to Big Mac until the first gust of wind hit him almost with the force of a griffin's fist. The old stallion was moving in a way that minimized the wind, picking a more careful path out of the wind-carved rock walls and floors. He was almost gracefully dancing with the wind as it blew. “Uh, if'n ya don't mind mah askin' sir... can y'all tell me how it is yer a-doin' that?”

“Practice.” The zebra dodged around several spots on the ground, after checking to the sides.

“Practice...” When Big Mac reached the same spots he actually looked aside, and noticed the wind-carved divots. He moved in a way that avoided them, feeling only the wake of the wind as it rushed over his head or past his back. “An' knowing what ya gotta see, right?”

“Knowing what must be seen is a vital in any aspect of your life, young one. As is what must not be seen. It will all help you someday.” At last they reached the floor of the canyon, which was slightly rounded from where the wind had carved it down into almost a channel leading off in the direction of the blowing tempest. “You will not, I presume, stay among the cliffs of tempest. There is one important thing to remember. No retreating. If you back away, you will never move forward again.”

“What? What kinda rule is that fer a place?” The red stallion pushed through the rushes of wind that pushed at him, trying to drive him off to the side.

“It is a rule that exists. That is all you need to know. At least you will know...” His guide leaped onto a rocky shelf and started to climb, clinging tight and pressing down on the stony surface to present little surface to the blowing gale.

'”Spose so.” Big mac climbed slowly, much more sedately. He may have been younger than the zebra but his bulk was an inescapable reality. Muscular as it was, it was the kind of slow-acting muscle designed for explosive power in concentrated areas. 'No need ta ask questions 'bout the place. It will be what it will be. Jes gotta take it as it is.'

“A fortunate circumstance is, if you only look and think, you can cross this swirling tempest by merely moving forward. And no matter how far you might go to the right and left you just need to go through the storm-carved valley. You should be glad you're not a pegasus; they try to fly over. That is just another form of incontinence.” He shook his head as he walked along and into a cave that looked just wide enough for some one the size of Big Macintosh. “Cheating shows you are not, in any way, serious.”

“Right you are, sir.” Big Mac wasn't wholly sure about that. Sometimes... corners got cut and rules bent. If his future sister-in-law was anything to go by, stretching things was a way to show the pony cared enough to try. But he could see the old stallion's point. In some things, cheating was a sign you were not worthy of the prize. And in love, cheating was the ultimate betrayal.

“No need to be so formal to me, young one.” The cave twisted and turned but did, eventually, lead out to the other side. The revelation was hardly encouraging, it showed only more windswept canyon space. “I know you are not totally convinced. But that's perfectly fine. Just keep following the rules you know and you will trot the path perfectly.”

Big Mac emerged with a scowl. He had barely entered it and he already hated the stormy environment. And not knowing how far it was across just made it all the worse. “It ain't the kindest place, is it? Not much threat'a somepony stoppin' here fer a spell, or even ta stay. Guess there's less temptin'.”

His guide shook his head a bit, not quite responding to what was said. “The cutting gale. The rush and tempest of the wind. There is some small favor in that it is all purely physical. Presumably.” He slowly made his way down a sliding rock face, using the stick to brace himself. “The journey is short, but the way hard. The temptation comes from cheating. Shortcuts and bypasses. Admission that what has been made to reach the limit of endurance and no more, is too much.”

There was considerably more skidding and tumbling when the heavy stallion made the trip down himself, a little worried look breaking his neutral features. “Ain't gotta worry none 'bout me. Ah gots too much respect fer the rules ta be a cheater like that.” He reached the bottom with a heavy clop of his hooves, the rocks around echoing with the noise until it was swept away by the roar of wind.

“I'm sure you do.” They were at a dead end. A large cliff met them, almost polished smooth by the howling wind. It curved slightly, the reddish stone looking less like a natural cliff and more like a scooter ramp. “Don't let it fool you. It's terraced. There are hoofholds. It's not much to go up but it is not forgiving the other way.”

“How far?” Big Mac called. The tempest was growing, as if it was alive, and eager to halt him.

“Over this and you reach a winding path up to the slough. That's your next destination.” The zebra casually yelled with great force, then put hoof and stick to work, climbing the seemingly-smoothly-curved cliff.

The red stallion was very unused to being made to look like a greenhorn. With his commanding bulk, quiet mystery, pearls of wisdom and general competence he was looked on as a pretty big wheel in Ponyville. But the wide world was no Ponyville; strange places beyond normal reaches were well past regular. But if the old man could do it, he could. With a grunt of effort and determined will he tackled the curved face, sending his hooves down solidly to seek the promised purchase.

The heavy hooves met the rock and slid down slightly until they caught on a lip just large enough to support the wide spread. Closer to it and no longer squinting in the rush of the gale, Big Mac could see past the optical illusion and noticed that the curved face was, as stated, covered with juts and shelves to serve as hoofholds for an ascent. Pulling himself onto the cliff with a tremble, he moved for the next hold.

As he stretched out his body to catch a higher hold the wind swept up and through his collar, almost clutching Smarty-Pants and dragging her out before he could drop his chin to keep her down. She tumbled about in the wind, caught a cross breeze from a jutting rock feature and then tumbled to the ground, at a place lower than the one on which Big Mac stood.

There was a moment, a long and terrible moment, Big Mac looking down and aside in horror, while his guide, who had reached the top of the wall, looked down with a piercing gaze. “Not. One. Step. Back.” His voice carried, even in the wind, stern and sure, while his eyes narrowed, hardening into almost a tangible stare.

Big Mac hesitated a bit longer, before he started to climb again, looking side to side at the various holds he could choose. After only a few upward steps he turned himself, pulling himself to a side-hold, bring his rear hooves up to a level shelf. After awkwardly shuffling along the narrow, short holds he slipped to the side just a touch, all four hooves suddenly taking a hard grip where they were, wedging him there, whole body trembling in effort as his muscles struggled with the herculean task of keeping that muscular frame stable.

With a loud snort and a determined huff he launched himself forward, landing as intended on another set of long, narrow lips. With a more stable stance he crept forward again, before twisting his body to the side, allowing himself to slide down, leaving his rear end higher than his front. After adjusting to the position he picked his way gingerly down the face of the cliff, placing each hoof only once, forcing him to consider the stability and position of each and every small, usable jut.

His motions carried him up, at last and in a most circuitous manner, to where Smarty-Pants had fallen. He dipped his head down and took her up in his teeth, grabbing her carefully by the pants, with accompanying apologetic mumbles about being in such a delicate area. His mission accomplished he continued back to the canyon floor, making another turn to tackle the curved face of the wall again.

His climb was much more challenging, the wind tearing at him, clutching his broad body and shoving powerfully. But he went on, unconcerned, holding his dear by her pants and picking his way carefully up the rocky wall. He made it up to the top without any more fuss, and found the environment at the top much more pleasant, though he was looked at curiously by the old zebra. “You... went back.”

“Eeyup. Straight up, aside and around. Never did back down. Couldn't. Ah had ta get her back.” Big Mac settled Smarty-Pants into his collar again, making certain she was securely wedged in.

“So you got around it by never stepping backwards, only moving forward back where you had been.” The old stallion laughed and shook his head. “A wonderful cheat that was not a cheat.”

“'Taint cheatin' if'n the rules ain't fair t'begin with.” Big Mac countered, mildly.

“Indeed, it's true, young one. Indeed it's true.” The other side of the canyon above the steep wall was another sone wall, reaching to the heavens. But this one had ascending trails that wound gently up it, and the wind was far less violent, only blowing in gusts that slowly got weaker as the cliffside was approached.

The two made their way up the winding trail, in silence, as before. But towards the top Big Mac asked, “How did ya know there was no goin' back?”

“You are not wholly alone when walking the path with a loved one that can speak. There are markers and informers. But no leadership like I am providing. Others can influence each other. But you would be walking this alone, with none to talk to save her unspeaking form. There must be communication. To influence decisions.”

“'Re ya here ta help me, 'r ta hurt me?” Big Mac got no response as they crested the canyon walls and felt the last gust of the lingering wind.

The environment into which they stepped almost made Big Mac long for the unforgiving wind and polished rocks of the canyon. The light quality had changed again. While the dim sky of the canyon had been bright enough to see by, the new environmental shade was very dark, like a lingering late-autumn evening just before sunset. And the quality of the light almost seemed to drain the color out of everything. Things seemed faded and washed. That was just the way the light illuminated things; the real problem was the content.

The solid rock at the canyon's edge ended abruptly a few steps away, turning immediately from stone to the loamy soil of a bog or swamp. Having been to Froggy Bottom Bog before Big Mac was very familiar with that kind of place. But it seemed so much worse. The slight breeze was cold and clammy, carrying the stench of decay, and there was a constant drizzle happening, that seemed unable to choose if it was composed of frigid water or tiny hailstones. And besides all that, there was no real path to speak of. The marshy land weaved and twisted around pools of black water, a maze of trails that went through puddles of silty mud or tangled masses of banyan roots.

“The slough.” The old zebra broke the investigative silence, probing the ground with his walking stick, then boldly striding forward to enter the drizzle and mud. Though he walked along well enough there was still a slightly audible suck and pop as his hooves pulled from the wet ground. “A barrier of many identities.”

Big Mac followed along, head drooping as the rain pattered down, in defiance of the canopy of trees, his lungs chilling as he sucked in heavy breaths of the clammy air. The whole place was just depressing. The feeling was heavy with a cloying miasma, as though he was being physically pressed upon by everything. A shudder ran through his whole body, running down his broad back and up again, soaked mane spiking back up as the goosebumps rose on his flesh. “Ain't none too invitin', this place. Ain't too likely anypony'd be setting up a homestead. Ah've heard tell of swamp folk. But this s'just too dang much.”

“The temptation is not always to stop and stay.” The old stallion was winding his way around the dark pools, never minding the clinging of mud on his hooves or the splattering of it that went up his legs and over his barrel. “The temptation is sometimes to never start. The dainty must decide what matters more, to press on for the sake of love or to hold back to spare their sensibilities. The fearful, the overly-cautious, the overly sensitive... they all face the slough with loathing and fear. Because the environment is unforgiving to the feelings and tastes of ponies. It will be what it is. And if it affects somepony... that is what it does.”

A nod followed, though stiffer than most of those before. The cold rain, chilly air and sticking ground were all taking their toll on the big stallion. His stout body was slowly starting to seize, though he muscled through it with an uncomplaining silence, more concerned with keeping his head down, to protect Smarty-Pants from the freezing drizzle. “It's a bit of a trot, it is. Ah s'pose it ain't meant ta be easy, but... seems almost cruel ta do this to somma the couples ah've seen about. T'aint fair. Not everypony can bear it.”

“I did.” The old male snorted and walked on slightly faster, seemingly unmolested by the cold and rain. “She did.” He pulled further and further ahead, his trail being slowly erased by the drizzle and the slow sliding of mud into the hooofprints. “You can. I think. Don't think about others. They face their own challenges their own way. You have to have focus for two, or else you have it for none.”

Big Mac gritted his teeth, pulling his hooves up with greater energy. Even if it sapped his fading strength he not only had to show he could keep up he needed to prove the slough would not beat him. The ground almost wanted to hold onto him, the marshy ground and clinging mud grasping his body, his solid heaviness working hard against him. “Got... focus... jes... makin'... conversation...”

“Perhaps my initial impression of you was wrong. I thought you would be quieter in times when focus was needed. But I suppose that with such challenges, distraction is preferable. It is most unfortunate I have nothing to say on such subjects.” The faster pace slowed, the zebra looking back with a slight smile.

“Leastwways, ya could tell me yer name. Ah'd like ta call ya what ya'd like ta be called.”

“I like to be called by her. But that is no longer possible. So... I will tell you my name. Eventually. Until then, not knowing it doesn't stop you from following me. Now hurry up. You have a short way to go before you leave the slough.”

Silence fell again, save for the patter of the rain and hail, and the sucking sound of the two pulling their hooves through the mud and sopping ground. The path they had been following terminated in a high mountain that seemed to stretch off endlessly to either side. Facing them was a cave, yawning hugely like the mouth of some earthen giant, complete with sharpened fangs of stalactites and stalagmites. Despite the imposing look, neither slowed as they went in.

The light from the cave entrance, what little there was, died barely a few steps in, leaving both clopping through the darkness, the zebra with confidence, Big Mac with careful motions. “Don't s'pose y'all got a light 'r somesuch, do ya?” The question echoed slightly around the rocky walls.

“Didn't have one the first time. Won't need one soon enough.” The meaning of the statement became plain after a bit more walking, a soft glow just barely becoming visible deeper in the cave. It quickly grew brighter, and indicated a sharp turn ahead.

Beyond the turn came the source of the unearthly shine. The very stones of the cavern were giving off a bluish-gold light, seen to be thanks to the energetic crystals that were shot through the walls and ceiling. The glowing illuminated the path, and showed off the rich bounty of it. Everywhere, there were gems, as well as rich, heavy veins of precious metals and minerals. They were all waiting to be taken; indeed, some had already been as revealed by deep gouges in the rock, and squat tunnels branching off that led into darkness not dispelled by the veins of glowing crystal.

“Earthy delights. The stuff of dreams and legends. It is so easy to lose the way when the security of plenty is so close at hoof. The stones would yield to hungry minds and eager work all manner of gem and precious thing. Everything but love. Whoever would lose themselves in here when the way is clear has chosen for themselves. This place will always be. But lives too soon run out. Love should matter more that clutching at riches that will wait.” The old man looked around with a jaundiced eye, as though hating everything on which his gaze fell.

“Don't seem too much of a stretch t'want it, that's fer sure. But ah don't see how it could be anypony'd stop after that there swamp and hide in some ol' cave jes 'cause it's filled with purty things.”

“The dainty that dared are faced with great temptations, all the things they would have adored in any ordinary situation. And all are at least driven to hunger for riches and plenty in some small sense. Even you, I am sure, could think of many ways to use such generous bounty. Even if not strictly for you.”

“Ah could. Sure. But ah ain't here fer riches. Ah'm here ta make Miss Smarty-Pants alive. All these rocks ain't gonna do it. They ain't got nothin' fer me, so ah ain't got no time fer them.”

The old stallion motioned down one of the widest of the passages, with glowing veins of crystal revealed along the walls which provided intermittent light, at least enough to make the going easier than at the entrance. “I applaud your passion young one. I hope you keep it. Because you will need it. You pass these trials with scorn. But down the road, the trials will scorn you. And then you will see what's really in your heart.”

Rancor's Road

The pair of stallions passed down the passage of the cavern alternately illuminated by the exposed veins of magical crystal and plunged into the darkness between the exposed portions. There was silence again, both of them steadily walking to warm themselves after the soaking in the slough and to dry off somewhat.

The path moved generally upwards, even as it lazily twisted and waved, a single road reaching for a very particular end. The exit came into view as a dim and continuous glow in the distance. With each hoofstep it became more and more distinct, a cave mouth at the end of a gentle slope, revealing pale daylight that was, nonetheless, much better than the sickly gloom of the slough's illumination.

Outside of the cave, the sky was one that wanted to rain, but never would. An eternal promise of a downpour from the clouds that sat on the wrong side of dark, but only enough to imply. They filtered the sunlight into a diffuse atmosphere that was somber, but not as relentlessly depression as the prior sky.

Big Mac peered up at the clouds and looked back, in a futile attempt to see behind the mountain through which they had passed. “Mighty odd sky y'got here, stranger. T'aint nat'ral fer it ta go from what it was back there ta this. Leastways not without a passel of pegasi ta do yer sky-tendin'.”

“There is nothing much natural about the land on which you tread. I would have that that would be apparent to you. But no matter. You will learn swiftly enough. You must if you intend to let love carry you very far. Understand the rules are not the same here as they are in the land you know, but nothing so different that it will stop you. If you stop, that is your doing.” The old male trotted along calmly, down the rocky path that led to a flat land, like a scrubbier version of the flatland on the river side of the canyon.

“Can y'all tell me anythin' 'bout what is gonna be comin'? Can't hurt none t'ask ya. Worst ya can say is 'no'.”

There was a silent striding over the crisp grass, which stretched into an uncomfortable duration, until it was finally broken by the word, “Argus.”

“Uhh... beg pardon, sir?”

“You came through the cavern of mortal delights and didn't stop even for a moment to claim treasures lying the smallest fraction of an inch below the rock, because it would not get you any closer to your love. Your dedication moved me to at least tell you my name. I promised you, after all.”

“'Argus'... ain't the most usual name. Can't say as ah've heard it before. An' th' only zebra ah know ain't got a name like that.”

“Not that it matters, but I was born on the borderland of Griffin lands and the Veldt. Names were... more varied. But that is not the point. Now you know.”

Big Mac nodded his huge head. “Good ta meet ya proper, mister Argus.”

Argus trotted on ahead, towards the sound of thrashing water. He softly muttered, “Never was a time when I thought a pony would be calling me 'mister' anything...”

“What was that?” Big Mac tilted his head curiously, but lifted it up as he also heard the churning of water that usually indicated rapids.

Down from the cave, in a haze of foul-smelling mist, was a most unusual cataract. There was another river there, composed of churning brownish-black water. It surged along with a speed seldom seen outside of a tidal bore or whitewater rapids. The particular spot on the river had a boat tethered to the shore, being thrown and jostled by the force of the water.

“Whatever magical force brings the brackish muck to the slough pushes the water down the hateful river, a disgusting bore of pestilential filth churned to a scummy froth on the surface. Down below the rapidly-moving surface the slime of the slough settles into a sullen sludge. It cannot be forded, and to follow it is to walk endlessly. There will always be boats to be found, because there is only one way to reach... that city.”

“Land sakes... they ain't none too kind to them folks the likes of miss Rarity 'round these parts. Mmm.” Big Mac put a fetlock over his nose cleared his throat softly. “Ah may be a farmer, and ah may know from fertilizer but mah word... this is powerful powerful, as they say.”

“It... does not become easier or more pleasant with company. The river surges along to its destined destination, another trot closer to your goal. Can you guide a boat? I may not aide you in any way save to tell you the limitations and explain the nature of these trials.”

“Ah been on a boat 'r two. Mah uncle used ta take me out in the little boat on the pond in Pericarp. Can't say as ah've ever had ta lead a boat through somethin' like this. But... ah'm game fer it. Gotta get where ah'm goin' so's ah kin talk ta miss Smarty-Pants again.”

The two stallions stepped to the boat, Argus stepping in first and settling himself at the front of the thrashing vessel, looking very natural. Big Mac was on next, stumbling and thumping around, sitting down solidly, only half-intending to do so. There was a large rudder on the back, and oars inside the boat, though given the state of the river it was unlikely they would ever be used for anything but supplemental steering.

They were moored to the bank by a single stout rope, attached to the boat by a simple spring-clip. Pushing down on the base would release the jaws from the anchor point and send the boat off down the river. After taking a deep breath of the befouled air, Big Mac hit the clip and lurched the boat down the scummy surge.

His hoof was on the rudder immediately, jerking it hard so that the boat surged away from the shore. He then hard to quickly pull it again to avoid striking the other side. The river suddenly seemed far less narrow than it previously had. Again, a body of water what fooling his perceptions. From a thin trickle becoming a wide gulf to an unfordable monster becoming a narrow channel. His teeth ground together hard, as his hoof pushed and pulled the rudder with decreasing force and frequency, as he got himself settled into more subtle motions to respond to the rush of the river.

Argus looked forward, through the haze of swamp water, a hoof over his snout as he peered into the distance. “The way is long and winding. At least there are no choices to make, no loops back to avoid or other such troubles. It is unlikely you will even find sunken rocks to throw you down to the slime.”

The words somehow managed to fall poorly upon Big Macintosh. He was stressed to the limit by guiding the boat with fine motions, and tormented by the foul odor of the ubiquitous mist that was washing over his face with the rush of the boat. “Well ah certainly hope not! T'aint like ah kin haul mah own carcass outta the slime an' foulness down there. Why do ah gotta do it alone? Miss Smarty-Pants could be brought to life fer somma this! Ah ain't a super-pony!”

“Could I reach you I would slap you, young one!” Argus yelled above the roar of the water, turning his head to glare hotly at Big Mac. “You selfish creature! She has done her part! She has done more than you know! You are here only because you know her love exists! Had you never seen her alive you would never have passed beyond the grasslands. You are here by her grace alone! Would you have your complaints betray that wonderful allowance through love?”

Big Mac's massive form shuddered as if stricken, and he shrank in his seat, eyes flicking away from the accusatory gaze of the zebra. “Ah'm sorry... fergive me miss Smarty-Pants. And ah'm right ashamed mister Argus. T'aint right a' me ta complain none...”

Argus faced forward again and resumed his search for what he knew would be coming. “You are in no worse position than those whose lovers are in a coma or turned to stone by magical means.” A looming shadow appeared on the horizon through the filthy mist. “You may be better off. She does not weight on your body as much as they may...”

Neither male spoke further when the shadows seemed to appear out of the mist, an imposing rise of hazy shapes that eventually resolved themselves into what appeared to be a stone wall, topped with crenelations. It was like some ancient fortified town brought into the present, but grander and more imposing. There was some aura about it, a fearful miasma swarming around and seeping from the very stones.

The river's fury slowly subsided, the powerful surge becoming and oozing seep as it passed along by the silent stone walls. A swamp was in evidence in the distance, but they never arrived. They reached a mooring place by a worn stone pier. There was even a conveniently-placed clipped rope, so that the boat could be attached as it had been up the river.

Big Mac looked up with some trepidation at the high stone walls, while reaching into his horse collar to check on the state of Smarty-Pants. Despite being mostly exposed despite her position, and despite the ubiquity of the fetid mist, she was completely clean, and smelled fresh. “How is that possible?”

“She is not capable of being affected. What would be the point? Water will dry and falling from your hold does not foul her irreparably. There is some advantage to being so still as she is.” Argus lifted himself from the boat and clopped grandly up the stone pier in the direction of the walls.

Big Mac wiped some of the lingering grime off of his face and gave Smarty-Pants a kiss before tucking her back into his horse collar and turning towards the imposing structure. “An' jes what is this here evil-lookin' place?”

“In ancient times there was a great evil over the face of Equestria. It is best forgotten; almost all ponies have lost the memory of the true scope and they hate only the reputation. It was Discord the evil one that brought it, but just as terrible were his unquestioning followers. Even when he was sealed away they continued to obey the random dictates that had ensured his favor or merely the passing of his eye. The Princesses would not let that remain so. Other nations did not. But while griffins slaughtered in self-defense and zebras bound them in chains to slowly waste away, the princesses removed them. But they would not kill. They were swept away to another place. This place, a pocket of space long occupied by a spirit of pure love and unity. And here they will reside, forever. In this place, the city of Discordians, the City of Lost Souls.”

Both stallions approached the dark stone walls, which looked like they were made of blood-flecked granite. They were rough-hewn, but not cracked or decayed in the slightest. They proceeded around the base of structure, Big Mac finally noting the overall environment. It was dark and cold, the sky like steel, the vegetation squat and sere, trees stunted and everything an unhealthy brown color. It was a wasteland, like in the very eerie stories he had seen in movies about the end of the world, were the princesses not immortal and capable of handling such things. “We jes gonna slink around it an' move along?”

“Would that we could, young one. But such is not the fate of those who pass this way. All are bound to walk this road, and it must take us through here.” Around the corner there appeared a grand gate. It was carved with the image of the imprisoned Discord, though the gaze of the carving was quite malevolent, and almost looked alive. Above the gate were words carved into the stone. For they that would never leave off pain and injustice to others, the burners of the wicker foal and the sowers of blood, the prisons inside the prison will stand forever, and leave none free.

“You got yerself a key? 'R is there some sorta trick to it?”

“No trick. No key. The gate is unlocked. We shall step through and you will know why.” Argus put his hoof on the gate, and paused, turning back to regard Big Mac. “When we enter, you will see them. The Discordians. They are the challenge. You may scoff, but you will see. Let us not speak of them; but look, and pass on.” With that final admonition, Argus pushed firmly on the gate, allowing both stallions entrance into the city.

A/N: Argus' last line, the italicized one, is Virgil's line from The Divine Comedy. Inferno, Canto 3, line 51

Via Furia, Porta Fraus

The city was quiet as both stallions first set hoof into it. The streets were large cobblestones, and the roads along the houses smooth slabs of rock. Lantern posts stood at intervals and unlit lanterns hung from the crossbars at the top. The houses looked like any other from an archaic period that would match the walls. They were formed of joined stone blocks with thatched roofs, iron grilles in the openings of the windows, but almost none had any glass.

It was a silent, sepulchral city that was like some ghost town. Except... in most of the doorways, standing on the street, or on the roofs there were iron tombs. Some ornately designed and elaborately carved with images of Discord, some blocky and plain, merely imprinted with crude scrawlings of the lord of chaos. They lent the whole scene an eerie aura. Big Mac was unsettled but not overly affected as he walked behind Argus. Then his hoof touched the cobblestone street.

Almost as if a signal had been sent through all the town, the sepulchers sprang to life. Or at least, they began to scream. From within each iron tomb rose a voice. Some were angry, some were sorrowful, some were just incoherent. But they were all loud and demanding the attention of Big Mac. He could feel it. Even when they were only gibbering, it was like they were calling to him.

“Free me! I was a king in my land!”

“Let me go! I obeyed from fear and not love! I knew it was wrong but...”

“Papé Dìscord, Papé Dìscord aleppe!”

“It was not me! It was not me! I did not put the torch to the wicker foal! It was the foal!”

“You are beneath me! Beneath me! Save me Ixion! Lycaon! Tantalus! TROTLAS! Shrug this world off your shoulders and save me!”

“What is this? Are they... dead?” Big Mac stumbled back and onto his rump, huge, muscular form quivering like a leaf in a storm.

Argus shook his head firmly and looked impassively into the town of shrieking din. “No. Much as they may desire it to be so, they are not dead. They will never die, though they lie in their tombs. That was the torment and the mercy of the rulers of Equestria. A town to themselves, more lovely and grand than any THEY had ever built. And they would never be locked within. The gate would always be open to them. But there was a price. As the rites of blood and fire imposed by the mad god Discord sent so many to their tombs, they were placed in theirs. They would never suffer, nor would they die. A gift. But see how ungrateful they are.”

Big Mac swept his eyes across the town, taking in the mercy of the princesses in their younger days. It seemed... wrong. But he didn't know anything about the denizens of the tombs. And if the implications were accurate, they were very bad ponies. It seemed a strange sort of mercy and a cruel thing to do. But the princesses did not tend to act against the best interests of the citizens. “Why are they screamin' fer me?”

“I am of this place, now. I can do nothing for them and they recognize that. Within this place they know all that transpires. But you... if you chose, you could crack these tombs like the shell of an egg and release them. They would trot out of the gates and back to Equestria. Back home centuries out of time.”

“Ain't much to drive me to it.” Big Mac contemplated an ornate tomb standing near the gate. Among the carvings was an image of Discord crushing a unicorn who was beside a broken gold wheel. The image elements seemed familiar somehow. “These ain't quite Wilderness Scouts.”

“No. They are not, if I take you to mean they are not innocent foals. But what they are is trapped. Immobile souls trapped in frozen bodies who can see and hear and think and desire their liberty. They are in need only of your empathy and your strength to set them free.”

The huge red stallion froze as he looked over a tomb that was laying out, little more than a cold iron box scratched with a crude image of Discord burning several ponies. “Y'all ain't none too subtle, is ya? Those ain't yer words comin' out a yer mouth, are they?”

“I do what has been asked of me.” Argus replied. “How could I do less after what was done for me? But no matter. If you will not let them go, then let us reach the egress as swiftly as we can. We have a great distance to go and there will come no profit from lagging behind.”

The two stallions set off down the cobblestone streets towards the far end of the town which seemed like a walled Ponyville. Or even larger than that. All through the town the tombs screamed for release, pounding echoing from inside the iron shells. Yet no matter how they hammered the metal walls they never moved, not even an inch. They were firmly rooted to the spots in which they were placed, as if glued there.

“A mite disconcerting, ain't it? Walkin' down this pretty street hearin' them tombs screaming out clear as day. Mm, musta been a hardship fer yer lady.”

“You did not know Hu... you did not know her. She was very, very strong. The shrieking iron boxes upset her, because they annoyed her.” Argus chuckled softly. “Yes, that was quite an experience.”

“S'ppose it musta been. T'aint like any thing ah've ever done afore.” Shops passed them on either side, filled with merchandise and displaying things for sale nopony would ever buy. Homes passed, tradehouses passed, guilds, all the trappings of a post-Discordian town. Hollow and soulless, even with the screaming tombs showing some sign of habitation.

Towards the far end of the town, in sight of a second gate, a different kind of voice broke through the cacophony. It was notable for being female very distinctly female. “Please let me out. Please, please let me out of this. It was a mistake. It was not my doing. I was so scared. Please...”

“What?” Big Mac's ears swiveled, his head turning around to find the source of the female voice. “What's that? That's a mare.”

“Your weakness comes from your upbringing, agricole. You find it charming; the malicious find it easy.” Argus grumbled to himself sotto voce then said aloud, “Did you think all the tombs were stuffed with males alone? However it may seem, females obeyed Discord as well, and not always out of fear.”

“But she said she was...” Big Mac's country-fried Pericarp morals believed a female, immediately.

“Females lie as easily as males. We are all equal. Are we not? Surely you must know what a tragedy it might be to stop on your journey to unleash a prisoner to haunt the world.”

“Ah can't jes let a mare alone like that...” Big Mac strolled around, down the side streets, to find a plainly-designed iron tomb laying at the edge of a fountain. It was covered in flowing filigreed lines and embossed with an image of Discord working puppet strings. “Ma'am. Ah... ah knows the princesses are very wise. But... uhh... kin ya tell me yer name at least.”

There was silence from within the tomb for a moment. Then the voice cried out from within. “Omnidonum. My name is Omnidonum. Please let me out sir! Please break the tomb and let me out.”

“Why did they think y'all deserved to be in there? T'aint right ta jes stuff a poor soul in a box 'n' leave 'em there forever.”

“It was all a tragic misunderstanding, sir farmer. I was swept up in the hysteria of the closing days of Discordianism. I participated out of fear and obeyed even if the princesses were sweeping through and changing everything. I don't deserve this. Please let me out. With just a soft touch you could break this iron shell.”

“What did ya do. Ah mean... what did ya actually do?”

No reply was forthcoming from the tomb.

“Ma'am?”

“... Nothing...”

“Nuthin', ma'am.”

“Nothing.” The voice grew hard, demanding. “I. Did. NOTHING.”

Big Mac looked at the tomb, again staring at the ornate filigree work on what was an otherwise unremarkable box. “We ponies 're all equal. Guess ah should have remembered, mares lie like stallions. Ah'm jes s'pposed ta pretend it ain't so. Ah can't. This ain't Pericarp and y'all ain't tryin' ta cotillion yer way inta the family's money.”

“RELEASE ME!” The thumping and desperate hammering resumed against the inside of the iron box. “It was only a foal! These princesses are mere figureheads but I honored a GOD!”

Argus was where he had been left, waiting patiently for Big Macintosh to return. “Did you release the cruelly imprisoned lady?”

“May have been a mare but she weren't no lady. Let's git from this town. T'aint rightly healthful 'r pleasant ta be in here.” Big Mac looked slightly distracted, eyes trying to cast back to the tomb, from which still emanated furious screams directed at him.

“There were cruel and evil ponies in those days. Just as there are now, though mostly in lesser degrees. At least, that is what I have heard. I have not been in Equestria in a great while. But things like that do not ever truly go away.”

The two left through the rear gate, which opened at a touch and slammed back shut with an air of finality. On that gate was the image of Discord, his face a mask of abject terror, as six spheres swirled around him. The sky in the town had been the steel gray of the fetid rapids, and it changed little outside the gate. In the distance there was some hint of blue, just another symptom of the unstable nature of the sky in the strange world.

The other thing that changed was the temperature. There had been a slight chill once the cave had been exited, with a clamminess to the river and an undefined chill running through the town. Outside of the town it began to grow much warmer. It wasn't a natural, pleasant warmth from the sun shining gently. It was a thick, humid heat, as in a jungle. But it was no jungle. Merely stunted trees and scrub alongside a worn dirt road. The warmth was pleasant after all the chill, even if the humidity made it uncomfortable.

“Air feels a trifle heavy 'round these parts. Like that there sauna at the spa back in town. Ain't no rhyme 'r reason ta any a this out here.”

“I told you. It is not like the world you know but it will not harm you unless you let it. Be strong and sure and you will trot through with no troubles.” Argus indicated a dip in the distance, showing a lowering of the terrain. “There. In that valley you will find a new trial.”

“As ah expected. Jes so's ah know, there IS an end ta all this, ain't there? Y'all ain't been walking this road forever, has ya?”

“There is an end. Well I know there is an end. I walk this... let it go, young one. For now. You are not here to bond with me. You are here to dedicate yourself to your beloved.”

Big Mac nodded, pulling Smarty-Pants from his horse collar and giving her a hug as he walked along. “Eeyup. 'S true. And ah'm gonna get as close as ah kin ta mah beautiful Smarty-Pants.”

The road continued onward and took a sudden dip, the scrub and desolation giving way to what looked like yet another river and a very thick, dark forest. It was like the Everfree, but made up of more coniferous trees, and was oddly humid, rather than the clammy coolness of the Everfree.

“Whew! Mister Argus sir, ah's gotta say... it jes seems ta be getting worse and worse. And that there forest sure don't look like no jungle ah've ever seen in any book before.”

“This is not a jungle. This dark forest would be cold and unwelcoming as any of the prior places were it not for what faces you next. Be assured, past this, you will know a chill.” Argus motion with his walking stick to the river. Though it moved at a modest pace with a slight gurgle, there was a haze over it like at the fast-moving river. That haze was heavy, but smelling only like hot water.

“Is that... a hot river? Mah goodness, ah ain't never heard a sucha thing.”

“Your experiences here will prove quite unique and make, someday, for excellent stories. But for now...” Argus braced the stick against his chest and broke into a sudden run. He thrust the stick into the bank of the rive and heaved himself up in a mighty leap. Showing an athleticism that seemed to defy his aged appearance he cleared the entire, broad river, landing with a heavy thud on the far end. He slowly turned around and sat, looking stern and inscrutable as ever. “Cross the river, youngling.”

“Can't say as ah kin be so smooth 'bout it as y'all, but ah'll do mah best. Jes lemmee...” Big Mac browsed around amongst the trees, looking for a branch low enough to break or a sapling that seemed sturdy. A thick, heavy branch caught his eye, and he pushed on it a few times to test it out. “Ah knows from good branches. Ah'm an orchard stallion.” He turned quickly and gave a mighty buck, thrusting his legs out without holding back, as he did during applebucking. He branch cracked off and flew into another tree a short way away, tumbling to the ground. The wind picked up in that moment, a moaning gale that sounded like a voice. But it said nothing intelligible. Just, pear chay me she ahntay pear chay me scare pee.

“Creative work youngling. But you'd best test that branch. I doubt your farm has you do much leaping as this would require.”

“Was jes about ta do that...” Big Mac regarded the broken branch. It looked thick enough, despite the bulk it would be required to hold. He wedged it up under one leg, ran along the path and dug it into the road, putting his weight on it and leaping hard, letting it take his weight. The branch crumbled into a pile of dust, dropping the huge red stallion to the floor with a tremendous thud.

“My my... perhaps... just perhaps... that might not be the way to get across this river. You may need to think.. more directly.”

Big Mac lay there in a daze, groaning softly. “Can't help yerself, can ya, old stallion? Gotta be mysterious? Must be the ways of zebras. Mah littlest sis' fiancee is jes like that.”

Argus turned away from Big Mac and grumbled. “You speak so casually of a zebra wedding a pony. You are so spoiled, youngling...”

Big Mac heard nothing. He just shook the fuzz out of his head and huffed softly. “Direct... gotta walk straight through? Gotta cook mahself fer the sake a love?” His eyes fell to Smarty-Pants, looking up from where she had fallen during his failure at vaulting. He picked her up and tucked her safely back into his horse collar. “Ah'll do it. Gotta go, gotta bring her back ta me, ferever.”

He approached the edge of the steaming river, inhaling the heady steam. Once more he was reminded of the sauna at the spa. His mind cast back home to Ponyville for a moment, recalling that day at the spa Rarity had financed on hearing he was bound for Canterlot. He had been scrubbed and massaged and hooficured. And dumped into a tub of hot water. It was quite a thing, but did not seem quite as intimidating as the river before him. Somehow, the flowing water seemed even hotter.

He would not be cooked. He was almost sure. Argus had passed that way before, and with a mare in tow. But he may have vaulted before. Or built a bridge. Or done something similar. He was a guide, but had just as often tried to tempt him away and into failure. Maybe he had only one shot at it. One go and then he was finished. A single hoof set into the water and he would pull away, and be forced to confront his failure. Left without Smarty-Pants...

No! Even if his chance here ended, he would always have her. She was there, and would always be there, gathering impressions, listening to him, being with him. He would have her, even still and silent. Nothing could make him lose her. That thought steeled his resolve and sent his hoof out and into the water.

It burned. No, it did what was just shy of burning. It was not the scalding bite of water boiled over the fire, which he knew from a small spill of hot apple cider. It was hot, yes. Had his resolve been less certain he would have stepped out, afraid of being harmed. But he could feel. As hot and uncomfortable as it was, he was not truly being damaged. He stepped into the river, going down slowly, the hot water covering him more and more with each trot. His head angled back when the water got especially deep, eyes closing when the water came up over them. He held his breath when he was finally covered, whole body nearly numbed by the river of heat.

He vanished but briefly, mouth emerging just a moment later, releasing his breath and sucking in a gasp of the hot, humid air. His body rose out of the water one step at a time, finally emerging from the flowing river and onto the opposite bank, where he collapsed with another gasp, sucking breath as his body steamed. As promised, the opposite side of the river was cold, though it may have only been in comparison to the river. “Didn't... cook mahself... but t'werent none too pleasant.”

“The river is at the threshold of your capacity. Just a shade away from scalding. I have heard tell there are places that prize springs of such a temperature. But this is to test your mettle. Would you be willing to risk it is bearable? Clearly, you were.” Argus rose and motioned forward, through a dark passage in the forest. “Come then, along the path.”

“Ah never kin tell with ya, when yer testing me or when yer serious. Ya been guidin' me on and tellin' me ta take the wrong road at the same time. And when ya vaulted that river...”

“Well, let me put your mind at ease, young one. It is my purpose to tell you the option to quit exists. But it is also my purpose to tell you the rules as far as I may, and no more. As for the river, it is not my place to endure it once more, just as it was not my place to be covered in filth. You may not have seen, but I came out as clean as your love. And notice now, how purified you are on the other side of the searing river. But I imagine the chill of this dark wood is all the sharper.” Argus set off, at a slow and reasonable pace.

Big Mac looked down and realized, it was true. The filth from the dirty mist had been clinging to him, a subtle but disgusting presence. But after the hot trip, he was completely clean, though it bothered him that Smarty-Pants was not only wet but had been seared by the river as well. But... to share was to be one. He set her on his back and followed along behind Argus. “Mighty kind o' the land ta clean me off.”

“The land cares nothing for you nor much against you, but these things sometimes work themselves out well.”

The light from the dim sky faded as the clawed branches and dense needles overlapped one another more and more, until there was nothing but the ambient glow from the far distant end of the path, which looked far, far brighter than it should have been. Just another quirk of the world. “It's a mite chilly, jes like ya said. Reminds me a the swamp. But it sure smells a sight better an' there ain't no rain.”

“The cold seeps right into the bones. It is worse than the swamp. There only the smell and rain were deterrents. Here the dark and cold are your enemy. Even if you are with someone, you are alone. The teeth chatter, the muscles twitch, talking becomes difficult. And after the searing heat of the river's hold, that frigid grasp is just as nearly-unbearable.”

Big Mac looked aside at Argus, barely certain he was seeing the old zebra in the deep darkness. “Was ya ever comfortin' or was this how ya always was an' yer mysterious bride was jes a very kind mare?”

“I am not here to coddle you, nor to lift you up. Your lover lifts you high and gives you peace. I am here to lead and nothing more. Walk on, then, if you are worthy to do so.”

“No reason ta ge- get snippy. Ah'm... jes... jes tryin' ta...” Big Mac's words failed him. His jaw began to quiver as the cold permeated him. His large form, pouring out metabolic heat, could do nothing against the clawing chill of the dark woods. He was covered in water, that he could almost swear was hanging on his red coat and hay mane in icy beads. But worse than the cold was the darkness.

Other than the glimmer of light at the end of the crushing tunnel of trees there was only weakly filtered light from the canopy. Thanks to the heaviness of his steps and the light touch of Argus' steps, he could hardly be sure that the old stallion was still there. There was nothing but the cold and darkness, in the trees, all alone.

A twitch of his back tugged on the hair. Smarty-Pants. She was frosted to his back. The twitches of his shivering were pulling in the hair that frost linked to her. She was suffering far more than him. He was a churning dynamo of warmth, gamely sharing what little radiated from his back. But that was so small. And she was not making her own heat. She was probably chilled down to her very depths, the feeling locked to her mana envelope, along with the scalding he had forced onto her in the river. The longer he went along with her unable to speak, the more desperate he became to give her that ability again, to make certain she was not being cruelly imposed upon.

His pace increased, forcing through the stiffness in his legs as he had in the slough. He would not be beaten, and he would not let some heartless world hurt his beloved over and over. He could feel the breath huff in steaming clouds from his nostrils and between his teeth. As he powered through the chill he could see the light growing brighter and brighter, a striking yellow in color.

Big Mac Gave a shout as his muscles unclenched and he broke into a run that did not feel as though it was tearing his body apart. He rushed into the light and gave a sudden gasp head thrown back as he ran into a wall of heat. From hot to cold to hot again.

When his eyes opened he looked out on a nearly-blinding scene. His body steamed and Smarty-Pants slid slowly off his back, gently steaming as well. His hooves sunk into soft, fine sand, while an unforgiving sun beat down on him like a hammer. Behind him, the wall-thick expanse of forest. Before him and all around, a rolling landscape of sand wavering in the heat.

“Do not think you have found a challenge, young one. Compared to what will meet you this is a stroll on the shore. I have memories of such a thing...” Argus strolled grandly out of the dark passage, unperturbed. “But that is not important. Trackless wastes, where the sun feels like a rain of fire. Merely a distraction, a diversion to test your resolve, as all the others. But you will come to regard this unforgiving landscape as a friend when you see what lies beyond. I know you will walk the waste. So let us go, onward to the last obstacle that stands between you and the place of the Granter.”

Proving Fire

Hooves shuffled listlessly through the burning sands, up and down over dunes in a sea that lacked all shade. Big Macintosh licked his chapped lips and pulled Smarty-Pants off of his back, gently placing her into the relative shade of his horse collar. “Y'all'll... be fine in there, sugar. It's... shady.” Big Mac smiled and licked his lips again. “Mighty fine desert ya got here. Can't imagine what might be worse.”

“I have seen far more terrible things than mere heat and dryness. You will as well. Also, a life in the Veldt prepares body and soul for regular doses of great heat. Certainly nothing like this, but it does prepare a body for such. Humblebee was fortunate in that respect. From the Veldt and with a strong personality. I do think she almost believed she could scold the sun from the sky...”

“Humblebee? Was that... yer mare's name? Right purty.”

Argus did not respond for a time, merely trudging the sand with a regular gait. “This nostalgic heat loosens my tongue overmuch. But I did promise I would say more as we moved along. Yes, young one. Her name was Humblebee. I called her Humble at first but she always preferred to be called Bee. Industrious and strong, that was her way. But let us hold. Though I do not suffer beneath the hammer of the sun, you are crushed against the anvil of the sand. Talking would not do either of us any good, but you least of all.”

“Ain't too bad... jes wish ah had kept mah pack. Princess Luna was nice enough ta gimme some water 'n' such. Mighta come in right handy here.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps not. You may have found the water boiled away to nothing inside the container. This land is strange. It does not wish you to take in help that does not belong to your love. We had water. Enough for one, with the screaming of two throats. And we shared, of course. Love can slake thirst if it is combined with a mouthful of water, and a smile on your lover's face.”

Big Macintosh nodded slowly, wiping his brow and then tapping his horse collar lightly. “Ah'm a workin' pony, mister Argus. Long days on th' farm, tendin' th' orchard, haulin' the crop and fixin' everything that might be broke. Wouldn't even be a challenge fer me. If she needed it, she'd get every last drop. Nothin' spared when it comes to Smarty-Pants. Ah'm here. That's proof enough.”

“You feel; that is why you are here. Proof of 'nothing spared' will be when you reach the solution to our trouble. You can't say you've conquered the challenge until you reach the end.” Argus motioned with his stick at a vaguely circular rocky area in the midst of the sea of sand. “You're in luck. You walked only a little ways before reaching the next step. The real step. This desert... you will remember it fondly, young one.”

“So ya say, ol' stallion. So ya say. Ah'd say ah doubted ya, but after trottin' through that town and that forest, ah ain't gonna put anythin' past this here place.”

They trudged along in silence to the rocky area. The stones grew in size, almost with every step the took, attaining the profile of natural monoliths, leaning slightly in random directions. While they at first looked to be a solid wall of settled rocks, there was a small opening created by the leaning of two adjacent stones. It was just enough that with some digging at the base a hefty stallion like Big Mac could squeeze through. Argus simply slipped in, tapping the stones with his stick. “These were a lot tighter before. The land is truly miraculous.”

“Eeyup. That's one way ta put it.” Big Mac dug at the ground, tossing hot sand in all directions as he exposed an ever-wider space. At last there was just enough of a gap for him to wedge in his body and wriggle through, his flanks and sides being cruelly scraped by the coarse stones and the gritty sand that seemed to be everywhere. “Urrg! Sorry fer you'n'yer lady havin' ta scrape yer way past.”

“She was caught. Being a gentlestallion I went first, to face any dangers on the other side. I scraped through; she was wedged in. I could have gone on, brought help from the figure we sought. She seemed well-settled. But, no water, no real shade, sand everywhere... I worked on her problem for an hour, or that's my best guess, when she came free. Again, this desert is kind to you.”

Big Mac scraped at the sand and clopped his hooves against the restraining rocks hemming him in. He strained and pulled, once more finding the bulk of his great body working against him. He was starting to see how the new world in which he found himself was set up to punish every pony no matter how powerful or talented they happened to be. While it scraped his flanks and agonized his straining muscles, he finally pulled free, flopping onto the burning sand in the middle of the ring. It was like it was noon at every point in the desert. “Any more'a this kindness and ah won't be in no shape nowise ta be a good 'n' proper match fer Miss Smarty-Pants.”

“You have good fortune, young one.” Argus pointed to the very center of the stones, showing a gaping maw of sand-ringed stone. “The purpose of the desert. All the burning agony to hide this single opening. Into the earth you go, to find what you most desire... and what you are truly made of.”

“Sorry ta do this, mysterious bein' what made the place. But ah'm gonna ease mah way through this place y'all made. Ah loves miss Smarty-Pants, an' nothin' y'all 'r any'a yer lil tricks can do is gonna change it.” After declaring his challenge, he boldly strode forth and leaped into the mysterious aperture.

The ground of the new cavern was softer than he expected, and cooler. The sand that had fallen in created a fine-grained mound which served as a cushion, shifting out of his way as he fell onto it. And despite the sun shining directly on it, something about the environment moderated it, making it far, far cooler than the blistering misery it had been topside. Big Mac welcomed the change, then slowly slid off of the pile and called up, “It's safe, mister Argus! Jes jump down and this'll cushion ya.”

“As it was before it is again. But I find myself not needing it. It is your challenge, young one, not mine.” Argus was already there, standing near to the downward-sloping exit from the rough-hewn entrance cavern into which they had come.

“Ah do suppose there're some advantages ta havin' been by this way already. But y'all got a way'a botherin' a body with the way ya can appear like that.” Big Mac trotted placidly down the sloping passage, giving Argus a curious look as he passed.

“'Parlor tricks', as Bee called such little manifestations of magic. Or even the big ones. Parlor tricks; we all do parlor tricks, from unicorns to zebra mystic workers. Didn't mean much to her. Hard to impress, she was. Makes me glad when I could.” Argus chuckled at the memory and followed behind.

The path sloped down into the ground, lit by the reflective walls of the cave, which managed to transform the streaming sunlight into a decent illumination. It hardly seemed to get weaker, despite the depth and distance from the entrance hole. “Mighty curious about the light. Never seen such a thing before.”

“The walls of the cave are shot through with light-reactive crystalline deposits. They scatter the light around and around. You... will not appreciate the ability to see soon enough.”

“How's that?” Big Mac was about to look back in confusion, but found his eyes locked on what came into view beyond the hazy glow of the tunnel. They had entered a large cavern. What looked like a wall, twenty feet high, with a single arched opening, loomed before them. The ceiling was hung with brightly-glowing crystal spears, showing off the silvery brilliance of the wall and the surrounding rocks. It was a very natural yet unnatural location. “Guess ah know what's next.”

“You don't. I feel sorry for you, and wish this was not the way it had to be. But, we all must pass through this chilling fire, to prove our worth. I do not envy you, because I have been you. I wish you every bit of luck and strength. This will serve as your only tempering, for what lies in the dark below...” Argus stopped at the entrance to the cavern, looking at the apparent wall with some trepidation behind his stoicism.

Big Mac stepped to the opening, finding that it led not into a new room but faced another wall, while a corridor led to the left and right. It looked like the entrance of a maze. “Aintcha comin' mister Argus?”

“It is your challenge, young one. Not mine. And truth to tell... I would not relish doing that again. No... I could not bear to stare into that maze. Least of all alone.” Argus gave a shudder and waved his stick. “Go. You will find me again at the end of your wandering in those mirrored corridors. If I do not see you... I will say, you have done better than many. Be proud.”

Big Mac nodded his grand head and slipped down the passage, choosing to move to the right. The surface of the walls became more and more reflective as he made his way down the narrow corridor, letting him see his reflection in every flat surface. It became eerie as the effect grew recursive, each wall reflecting the opposite wall over and over, creating a diminishing corridor of trotting red stallions.

The mirroring made travel both difficult, and simple. Turns and passages could be inferred from the breaks in the repeating infinity, or suddenly being confronted with himself. At the end of one turn he did not encounter himself. Tucked inside the reflection at the dead end was his sister's friend Rarity. “Miss Rarity? Jes what are you doin' in a place like this?”

The reflected Rarity seemed to both hear him and not hear him, her smiling face not changing much. “Now, Big Macintosh, I know you have been alone for a long while...”

“Eeyup. But don't make no nevermind ta me. Jes what...”

“...and we've all been very concerned.” The reflection spoke as if she had not heard. “So, because I know that you have always secretly fancied her deep inside I have convinced Fluttershy to go on a date. Won't that be lovely?”

“Wh-what?” Big Mac staggered back, his army of reflected clones following suit. “But miss Rarity, Fluttershy's yer fiancee! Why would ya do something like that?”

The reflection Rarity strode forward in the dead end wall, suddenly appearing on the reflected walls. “Isn't it spectacular that she is single? I do fancy myself a matchmaker. And now I shall show my great talents. So, come along, Big Macintosh. You do desire Fluttershy, do you not? Of course you do. Everypony knows it. Come, then, we shall go to her.”

“G-git back ta Tartarus, whatever ya are! Ya accursed land! Yer tryin' ta besmirch a good mare!” He turned tail and ran from the approaching army of reflections, which were all smiling the same solicitous smiles, offering a quick and easy pandering end.

In a blind panic Big Mac cut down any corridor he could find, almost seeming to outrace the army of his own reflections. He only stopped when he hit another dead end, and found the reflection of Fluttershy. “O-oh, there you are. You know I've been waiting for you. We'll have a beautiful date...”

“T'ain't gonna happen. Ah dunno what ya think ya are. But ya ain't miss Fluttershy and that's a fact. She's gonna marry miss Rarity some day an' that's all there is to it.” Big Mac stomped his hof firmly and gave a great snort.

“Oh, I know how scared you must be...” The reflected pony took a step forward, growing larger as she appeared to approach inside the reflective surface. “You've been alone for so, so long. All alone...” She stepped forward again, head emerging along the side walls, even as the dead end showed nothing but a refection and not a living being. “Cold and alone, so alone...” The voice... voices echoed, delivered from the army of throats. All the reflections had the same look, a flattering look meant to draw in the eye and heart. “One little date... you know I secretly love you.”

“No ya don't! No ya don't!” Again Big Mac was tossed headlong into flight. “How can ya do this? Do it to good mares that ain't hurt nopony!”The maze did not answer. There was only the soft echo of familiar voices, an army of familiar voices.

He did not need to meet a dead end before he found more reflections facing him. He did not recognize the new figure multiplied over and over on either side of the corridor. He was just a unicorn stallion, all white with a white mane. His horn was lit up with a crackly aura. “Come along now, you're late. You have had me on retainer for so long I thought you would be used to the schedule. The time has come to apply the spell again. I have done it so much it is becoming second nature.”

“Who are ya, stranger? What kinda magic ya got brewin' there in that horn?” Even though he looked friendly, and even if he seemed to know Big Mac, the big stallion still moved backwards, reflexively reaching in to pet Smarty-Pants.

“'Who am I?', he asks... Have you been overworked, mister Apple? I am the sorcerer you hired to continually, for lack of a better term, 'wind up' your doll. You know we have regular sessions to refresh the come-to-life spell to ensure that any cancellations are infrequent and short. As I understand she has only lost vitality four times. And you report her existential crisis is minor. Sufficient to continue. She's only a doll, after all.”

That got the big stallion's ire up. “You take that back! She ain't jes a doll! She's mah sweetheart! An' Twilight knew better'n ta do that. She unnerstood ah didn't want her livin' an' dyin' over an' over! Git away!” He charged forward into the empty corridor, somewhat surprised to feel some kind of invisible resistance which tugged on him from all sides, as if his reflections were really plowing past the unicorns in the reflections.

He broke free of the collection and tumbled headlong into another dead end. As he looked up he saw a most elegant stallion. White, with a blue mane and mustache. He had been in town more than a few times, usually hung out with the other folks with mustaches. Seemed like a good stallion. But the kind light in his eyes had been replaced with a hateful coldness. There was another white unicorn squatting submissively before him, being repeatedly lashed with a whip held in a magical grip. There looked to be small figures on either side of him, but they were hard to discern. He strode forward imperiously, the white mare following along, even as she was whipped. “Look at you. Hideous. Giving your love to some common scrap of cloth. A disgusting rag.” As his doppelgangers appeared in the mirrored sides, the two small figures came into view. Two of the local town foals, bleeding and unconscious, looking to have been whipped and beaten before being tied to his body with complicated harness straps. “How improper and vile. Uncouth...” A particularly hard lash echoed out, amplified by the sheer number of reflections. “Ungentlecoltly.”

“None a y'all 're who ya look like. Ya may wear his face but ya don't act like that gentlecolt. And ya can't tell me nothin' 'bout being ungentlecoltly if that's the way ya act ta mares 'n' fillies. Mah love fer Smarty-Pants is pure. Ah love her 'cause she loves me back. When we was courtin' ah was a gentlecolt. And now she can't speak ah still am. Ya ain't gonna make me feel ashamed ya stolen-faced hypocrite!”

He was off, down more twists and turns, haunted by all the sounds from the combined reflections seeking him out. “Oh Big Macintosh. I'm so glad we found you.” From every corridor he could see came images in marching files, side by side. Twilight Sparkle, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash. It was Twilight's voice, but with a persuasive coo he had never heard before. “Please let us help you, Big Macintosh. We only want to help you. To give you all you could need...”

“Dunno what yer thinkin' takin' the faces of mah friends an' townsponies. Ah ain't about ta believe what ah know ain't so!” He was trapped. He had already forced his way through just one multiplied pony. “Don't matter none how ya chatter at me! Ah ain't goin' out with no pony, ah ain't lonely, and ah ain't gonna feel bad 'bout bein' in love with miss Smarty-Pants!”

He could hear the sounds from all around the maze, all the repeated chatter from the things inside the walls, together with the cruel and repetitive strike of the whip. He didn't know what would happen if they caught him. Would he be forced to give in as his reflections were assaulted? Would they wear him down as the echoes assaulted his mind as he slogged through a sea of phantoms?

There was no time for hesitation or halting. They weren't going to get any less diffuse. He chose a corridor and took it, closing his eyes tight and rushing through whatever chattering phantasms he encountered. Once his shoulder hit the far wall he looked again and was off. Right into Applejack's reflections, stalking down the corridor towards him with an angry glare. “Consarnit, Big Macintosh! Gitcher flank back to the farm! We need you ta work! Now you stop alla this foolishness. Ya ain't never gonna make that little lump-a nothin' inta yer marefriend! There ain't no critter out there ta make it happen!”

His sister. His own sister... “You were wrong, critter, thinkin' ah'd listen to mah sister's voice when ah know she ain't here. She don't know ah'm here so... but... no!” He glared up at the approaching reflections. “Ah ain't gonna be made ta think it was a waste and that ah'm sneakin' around! This here world is real! It's strange an' incredible but it's here! And there is a critter at the end makin' all this happen to make sure ah'm worth the time!”

“There ain't no granter of wishes out there!” The phrase was screamed out with one loud voice, echoing along the reflective walls, every magical throat calling defiance to the big stallion.

He ran. There was no hesitation and no uncertainty. He was in no mood to be manipulated by lying faces and voices. He would not just listen to those he knew when he knew well they would never act like that. His reflections met the reflections of his sister, the first time his form had been used in anger against his own kin. Even as an illusion it made him shudder. Another way to crush his resolve. No wonder they took on the faces of those he knew. But sister or no, it was just a reflection. Not even a physical imitation.

The other figures piled in. The presumptuous sorcerer, the pandering Rarity, the flattering Fluttershy, the sadistic fancy stallion, the falsely consoling Twilight, Pinkie and Rainbow Dash. His muscles strained as he pushed against empty air, his army of reflections matching his every thrash and shove, moving inch by inch. There was only so much the mass of bodies could do, while he worked with a singular will.

His struggling shoves finally pushed the collection of reflection phantoms to the end of the corridor, into a wall that was hazy. The figures seemed to grow weaker, as the reflectivity of the wall got weaker and weaker. Something about that clicked in Big Mac's head. The entrance. The walls had shone, but not been very reflective. Even if it was just the way back, he could gather his thoughts and push out the illusions.

They got weaker and weaker, numbers growing smaller as they got too hazy to push or simply vanished. At last, there was no more resistance, and no more reflections at all. That allowed a panting Big Mac to trot his way down the single passage which led down the non-reflective aisle and through another hole in the wall. Rather that the entrance passage he found a simple semi-circular cave entrance that looked to slope downward into an unknown darkness.

The huge stallion huffed out loudly and gave a smile. “Ah do see yer point, mister Argus. Ah do so see yer point. Ah miss that desert already. Ain't nothin' gonna get me back inta that maze. What's the next move mister Argus? Mister Argus?” Despite all the calling, and turning around around, he found nothing. He was all alone.

Traitor's March

“Hello? Mister Argus?” He had been calling for several minutes. The old zebra had said he would be there to meet him when he had finished his journey. Yet he was nowhere to be found. The stallion had not been shown to be a liar before. There must have been more to it.

He might have gone out of the wrong exit from the maze, if there were, indeed, multiple exits. He might need to face the maze and the reflections again. Not something he was eager to do. Something strange could have gone wrong and trapped the older stallion somewhere, or he may have been recalled from his duty for some unknown infraction. Perhaps he had given more warning than he was allowed.

If it wasn't something he had done, then it meant that his solo endeavor wasn't done. The cavern leading downward seemed to promise a further challenge. He cautiously approached, noting the unusual silence. His hooves barely made a sound against the stone, and not a sound came up from the depths. What did emerge was a waft of freezing air, like the breath from a Windigo. He had met cold before in his quest. He could meet it again.

His hoofsteps still made no sound as he tentatively took himself to the edge of the cavern entrance, peering down into the darkness. There was a faint glow, deep down at the bottom of a smooth, sloped stone passage. No hoofholds, no certainty about traction, and no other option, other than a passage back through the maze. The very thought of it was enough to let him know he had no other choice.

He took Smarty-Pants out of his collar and gave her a sudden hug. “If ah don't make it, an' yer trapped all alone here, jes remember ah always loved ya, ev'ry trot of the way.” With that, he tucked her back into the collar and stepped out into the opening, bracing his hooves as well as he could against the stone.

It was smooth and slick, not just polished by the action of time and moist wind passing along the surface, but covered with the faintest layer of ice. It was like trying to trot along the cobblestones back in town in the midst of winter, but worse. The slope exacerbated the lack of traction, while the smooth singularity of it left no purchase. His forward motion was uncontrolled. All he could do was slide and twist, scraping and grunting as he sought even the slightest hold on the ice-slick hill.

He hit the sides of the cavern a time or two, and was really chipping his hooves up when he cracked the tiny ice layer to try and scrape along the stone underneath to control his speed. Despite his failure to control or slow himself he made it to the bottom after only a short trip, with minimal personal damage.

There had been a gentle curve to the passage, which had kept the sight of the bottom from view. One glance showed him why the wafting breeze from the bottom had been icy. The cave that went down from where he had ended up was covered in a layer of ice, the rock looking distorted through the encasing layer. It looked to continue into the barely-illuminated distance. It was, at least, a very broad, tall cave, hung with stalactites and stalagmites.

After huffing out a breath and shaking his body to start warming himself Big Mac stepped forward, hooves sliding just a touch on the sheet of ice that covered the floor. It was another familiar experience, very like the time Applejack had dared him to try and cross the frozen pond on just his hooves. He had made it, and earned himself some bragging rights, but it had been quite a scary thing, skidding and sliding along, even falling on his flank more than once.

He half-trotted, half-slid along the ground, eyes casting around with a paranoid preparedness. The world had been beating into his head, from the beginning, that nothing was as it seemed. Even the easiest trot was nothing more than a cover over an easy failure of a test he barely knew he was taking. All that met his suspicious eye, at that time, was the ice, which was getting imperceptibly thicker the further he went.

His ears, however, were picking up something. Whispers. Unfamiliar voices saying unknown things, the tiny sounds almost lost in the whistle of cold wind along his ears. But he could tell, somehow, the sounds were not just the wind moaning along the passage. They were words from many mouths.

The first intelligible word that hit him actually stopped him in his tracks, with his momentum carrying him along the ice a space. “Traitor.”

“What was that? Yer callin' me traitor? Who's there? Say it to mah face! Ah'm loyal as can be and ya should know it! Come out ya magical monster!” He wheeled in place, scanning the frozen environment for reflections or spectral presences.

“Traiiiitoooor...” The voices moaned, the wind whipping by his ears faster for a moment. “The farm lies fallow, the apples wither in the trees and your family hungers, bodies stiff upon the cold ground. Why are you not there to toil for their survival? Traitor! Selfish traitor... taking this journey without thinking of them. You fool. You have endangered them for nothing. You have responsibilities.”

“Ah do. Ah certainly do...” Big Mac trudged on, head slightly turned by the rush of wind. Despite it, he persisted. “Ah have a responsibility ta Smarty-Pants. Mah love made her complete and ah saw her up an' about. She told me she loved me and ah wanna bring her back. She's mah one and only special somedonkey. Ah'll walk to the bottom-a Tartarus 'cause ah'm the one that can. Mah family ain't sufferin' none, they can stand on their hooves fer the little space ah'm here.”

The wind rushed along with a renewed force, as the ice on the walls and floor grew thicker the further Big Mac went along. He could not quite see the stone walls through the slight milkiness of the ice. The thing he could see were dim reflections of pony faces in the ice. They were not distinct, but they were there, as was the judging mass of voices that groaned in the wind. “Traitor, traitor, traitor to your land.”

“That the best ya can do? Ain't nopony more loyal ta Equestria, 'ceptin' maybe mah future sister-in-law. Th' older sister. But y'all knew that. Yer jes lyin' ta me 'cause ya got nothin' else. Nothin'!” Big Mac stomped a hoof firmly, sending radiating cracks out from the point of impact.

“You have left your home, the land of your birth and land of your mothers. You have entered a foreign place, an alien place.” The wind grew harder, and the faces slightly more distinct. Their eyes became piercing, judgmental, glaring at Big Mac. “You shame your princesses and all the archmagi of your land. You call them dirt. Worthless. Nothing. You must stumble into some new land. You are ashamed of your home!”

Big Mac pressed on, occasionally shifting as the wind blew upon him, tiny crystals of ice forming at the tips of his mane hairs. “Ain't so, ain't so. It was Princess Luna her own self that sent me here. Ah'm here 'cause she cared enough ta send me. She ain't ashamed ta say what can't be done in Equestria. Ain't nothin' there but temporary solutions. Twilight told me so, an' she knows plenty.”

The ice was growing, constricting the passage into an uncomfortably claustrophobic thing. The wind had also increased in both speed and chill, making Big Mac recall the dark forest and the rime that crusted his coat. It was happening again, a hoar cloak across his back and down his mane. The faces became clearer with each layer of ice, every step of his taking him into a darker and darker set of glares and more judgmental sets of their jaws. “You have betrayed her. The one that lies soundless, sightless, speechless in your collar! The things you have done to her on this fool's errand! Falling! Miasma! Filth! Freezing! Boiling! And it ignores all the filthy thoughts you held before. The long nights with a hoof around her... traitor! She could not say yes! She could not refuse your advances! Traitor...”

“Hush up!” Big Mac set to running, dashing down the icy tunnel with less and less clearance on all sides. “Ah never did nothin' to her! Ah held her tight like she asked durin' our day together. Ah did just as she asked-a me. An' ah didn't have no choice 'bout what happened here. Y'all did! She woulda wanted it too, she woulda dragged mah cloth body down this path an' ah'd be thankin' her at the end!”

Smaller and smaller it constricted, the ice thick on every size, the wind howling with calls of 'traitor', the faces in the ice stern images of generic ponies, that slowly transformed into something much more familiar. The face of his granny. Granny Smith soon gave him a hateful glare from every surface. He ran out of running space suddenly, the cavern opening up significantly but ending in a huge, smooth wall of ice. The pale surface shimmered with mana before it displayed an image of Granny Smith, bigger than life, her titanic stature exaggerating every crease and line, and making her dagger-glaring scowl all the more menacing. “Consarn it, grandsonny! Ya had ta be one-a them! Ya done it! Ya betrayed me!”

All the bravado and dedicated strength Big Mac had been showing wilted before the familiar glare of his grandmother. She had planted in his heart the fear of her mere image. She was to be minded and obeyed. “G-granny? Ah... ah know it ain't you. An' ah know that critter's makin' ya say this stuff. Please don't do...”

“Don't! You! Sass! Me!” The wind roared, like a Windigo's rage, adding to the chill stabbing into the stallion's bones. The image of Granny seemed to get even closer, face increasing in size to dominate the ice wall. “You turn yer flank around an' get yerself back home!”

“B-but Granny... ah've come so far. Ah did so much work jest ta make it... why can't ah get on to do what ah came here for?” Big Mac was little better than a shivering colt, unwilling to even look up.

“You know why! We have our ways! You stay on the farm! You marry a fancy pony lady! You set up yer acreage and you make bits! That's how we do it, boy!”

“But..!”

“No sassback, boy! Ah thought ah had raised ya better, but ah see ya didn't learn nothin'! Yer nothin' if ya can't obey what ah know is right!”

The red stallion slowly rose to his hooves, not cringing quite as much under the assault of cold or words. “C-come on. Ah'm gonna come back with a fine lady. Why she's a friend-a Twilight Sparkle, and Twilight's friends with the princess! That's strong gov'ment ties.”

“Ah said fine pony lady! Ah ain't lettin' ya come back with some no-Cutie-Mark hussy that wants ya fer yer acreage!”

Big Mac managed to look up into the giant face, if only for a moment. “That ain't fair, Granny! Ya never met miss Smarty-Pants! Ya don't know how sweet she really is, an' how smart she is an'...”

“Don't matter none! We keep pure in this family! No Cutie Marks, no go! Ponies 'r zebras is th' limit! Why can't ya be like yer sisters? A famous pegasus! A zebra with her own homestead an' a good job!”

“That ain't right! What about cousin Braeburn an' cousin Little Strongheart?” Big Mac approached the ice wall with a bit of his old fire back. “They're jes fine...”

“Don't you talk 'bout them! They may be in this family because ah... ain't none-a yer business how it happened! But it happened and ah ain't happy. But we have honor in this family!”

“Ah know 'bout honor. Ah'm gonna be a good husband ta miss Smarty-Pants. Ah'm gonna tend the farm, be a proper gentlecolt and do as ya wish. Jes with miss Sm-”

“No!” The glare grew more dire, her frown pulling the lines in her face even more. The withered old crone had never looked more horrible. “You mind me! You mind mah will! Ain't gonna be no brayin' longears in this family! Don't matter she's jes a lump-a cloth! Ah've already been shamed with some savage buff mixin' with our blood! You ain't gonna add to mah shame!”

“She ain't nothin' ta be ashamed of!” Big Mac puffed out his chest and stood tall and proud before the icy image of his grandparent. “She's a sweetie an' so smart! She's almost as smart as Twilight an' that ain't hay! Y'all'll love her, Granny! Jes give her a chance!”

“Ah ain't doin' nothin' jes 'cause ya tell me! Yer like yer griftin' uncle! He weren't an obedient boy either. And ah got rid-a him!”

“Mah uncle ain't a bad stallion! He loves ta help...”

“He never minded me! Ah will be minded! Ah will be obeyed! Y'all 'r like that son-a mine! Spoiled apple from the day he was born! Ah had ta save the family from bein' spoiled by him! Ya might be jes like him! Ah gotta protect the family! Evil stallions gotta be cut out!”

A hoof scraped along the icy floor, and Big Mac's muscles tightened like the creak of old wood. The ice fell off of him in tinkling shards, cracking off and shattered on the floor. “Mah uncle is a good stallion!” He whipped around, forebody leaning down. “An' so! Am! Ah!” With a sudden burst of strength and righteous fury he bucked out at the ice wall. It was not a moderated applebucking buck. It was the full extension of all his muscles, the explosive release of all his tightened energy used to knock down dead trees or those that need to be removed.

The hooves whacked into the ice with a reverberating crash. Giant cracks radiated through the ice, as the scowling face yelled, “You mind me!” The cracks split her face in several places before the mana fizzled out like a television on the blink. With a great rumble and further cracking shatters the wall of ice fell away and to the side, revealing a short stone passage leading up.

It took Big Mac a moment to calm himself, huge heaving gasps helping him gulp down the slowly-warming air. His walked up the path with a trembling step, towards a warm and welcoming light. He emerged from the passage into a gigantic cavern. The ground was covered in lush grass that went partway up the walls. The walls were not bare; they and the ceiling were studded with giant crystals glowing with mana, in a combination of colors that added together to give the whole area the aura of the outdoors. It was like a warm summer afternoon. Before him, a long stretch of the grassy expanse that did not seem to go anywhere.

A sound drew his attention. The turn of his head revealed the august form of Argus, leaning on his walking stick. “Greetings, young one. Welcome to the end of your journey. Welcome to the cavern of the Granter.”

The Humble Trot

“Good to see ya again, mister Argus. Ah'll confess ah was a mite worried when ah didn't find ya after that there maze ya took pains ta warn me about. Thought ya mighta said too much and been taken away 'r somethin'.” Big Mac smiled in his friendly way to the old zebra, a relieved cast adding to the warmth of the smile.

“Oh no no. I would imagine, in fact, the more dire and specific my warnings the more they would be encouraged. Nothing could dampen the spirits quite like being told that your own family and friends will turn on you and try to make you give up. It was easier for myself and Humble, of course. The illusions could not compare to the reality. And if we could get past that...” Argus cleared his throat and stroked his beard softly. “No matter. Here we are. The cavern. You are a mere march from that which you seek. Shall we undertake this journey as well?”

“Ah've come this far. Ain't likely ah'll be turnin' tail and leavin' now. Ya hear that, darlin'? We made it. Just a little bit more an' ah'll be hearin' ya talkin' again. Ah done missed that a lot.” Big Mac dipped a kiss down into his collar, onto Smarty-Pants' head.

“Very well, young one. You will find this far more straightforward. Though do not be surprised if obstacles appear suddenly. This cavern will trick your perspective. You may believe you are walking a flat and wide path but you are, in reality, twisting your way up towards your goal. You might not notice anything until you've rounded a corner you did not know was there to see the barrier you must transcend.”

“Don't make no never mind ta me. Ah takes this place as it comes, ain't likely ta change jes 'cause ah'm this close. Ah know we is the type ta make it all the way.”

“Very well... prove it...” The placid walk was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a huge, high stone gate with a set of massive iron doors. They were molded with images of creatures of all species entwined in very romantic and intimate poses. “This is not even a real challenge. It is the test to see if you are even worthy of the time needed to try you. Open these gates with your beloved, if you even can. They are not insubstantial, as you see.”

“Ah see 'em...” Big Mac commented, pulling Smarty-Pants from his collar. “But after all ah've done... ah don't believe 'em. They ain't nothin' but cheap tricks an' bluff. Ah leave them ta scoundrels an' cons that ain't got the skills ta really do right.”

“I applaud your casual confidence. But do not overextend your reach. Don't dismiss what you should take seriously. It's not just a brute pushing past discomfort any longer. Now feelings really matter. The things you cannot control, your own hearts, are being scrutinized. All your determination means nothing if the feeling is just not there.”

“Then it ain't but a formality ta get from here ta there...” Big Mac reached out and placed a hoof on the imposing iron surface. He pushed with all his strength, leaning into the shove. His muscles bulged, standing out more than ever as his teeth ground against each other. He was putting all his not-inconsiderable strength against the door, and might as well have been trying to move Canterlot.

“Where is all your certainty now? You once more think you may push past with your strength alone, as you did before. Did you hear nothing I said to you a mere moment before? Look upon those gates! What use are muscles against them? And yet even Bee strolled past as if they were not even there.”

Big Mac stepped back and really peered at the gate. Couples. All classes of couples. Males and females, females and females, even males and males, all wrapped comfortably around one another, sharing close contact, along with more than a few kisses. It suddenly came into clarity as the big stallion swept the gate with his eyes. He laughed lightly and pulled Smarty-Pants out of his collar. “Mah apologies, darlin'. Ah shoulda realized this here gate weren't gonna be no easy task. If ah may impose upon ya, can ya help me?” Smarty-Pants was extended to the gate, one cloth arm touching it as a portion of Big Mac's hoof did. The iron door may as well have been made of cloud, the huge thing swinging open with a loud whine of metal on metal.

“You are used to being your love's shield and lance. You wish to use your power to do all for her. But in some way, as much as is possible, you must let her be equal with you. Do not stop protecting her, but do not be afraid to let her do what must be done.” Argus pointed just ahead to a series of low walls that extended on into the distance. “Here is a challenge to what lives within you both.”

Big Mac eyed the walls, setting Smarty-Pants on his back with a soft pat. “There we are, darlin'. Let's get on ta this foolishness.”

“Wait a moment...” Argus gently tapped Big Mac on the shoulder with his stick, holding up a small blanket. “You are missing the attire for this. Put this on, and settle your lover on it. Then you will see what there is to both of you.”

“Ain't nothin' unusual 'round here no more.” Big Mac arranged the blanket over his back and settled Smarty-Pants onto it. Suddenly his legs felt the strain of great weight, and his back almost seemed to threaten to buckle. “Mmm. Can't nothin' be normal 'round here, can it?”

“Go then... down lower and lower. Cast aside your pride and let yourself be brought low. And then we will see if after this show of humility you can possibly rise again.”

“Ah see...” Big Mac huffed softly and started to walk slowly towards the gradually-lowering walls. They extended down from the ceiling and took up all the space to either side. The first would be passed under with only a flick of the ears, while further ones required the drop of his head, the bending of his legs and finally crawling on his belly, head pressed to the rocky ground.

He continued to crawl along after passing the last wall, his muscles straining under the mystic weight pressed down onto his back. “Now rise. The weight of humility has been your burden. Now overcome the crush of pride.”

Big Mac rested against the ground a while longer, breathing slow and strong. He then casually stood up, gingerly took Smarty-Pants into the crook of one leg and whipped the blanket off of his back. “What do ya want me ta do with this here thing?”

Argus made an effort to not look too surprised by the simplicity of the action. He simply shrugged his shoulders and strolled forward, the walls retracting away from his presence. “You can keep it if you like. It is merely for unmarried couples, to minimize bare contact. Humble and I did not need it, of course. I shouldn't be surprised it was so easy for you.”

“'Tweren't none too easy goin' down... but ah must say, as ah was comin' up ah ain't never felt so light. Sure was a nice change.”

“You are weighed in different ways by humility and pride. Needless servility, affected or deeply-held, will crush the soul down and leave them unable to move on in a reasonable manner. Arrogant pride leaves a being down and too crushed to move. No being is strong enough to carry unwarranted pride, whatever they may think. I saw you strain and struggle beneath the weight of your humility, but you moved all the same. You walk the balance well. And your pride... it would be wrong to say you have no pride, but you carry none of the boastful peacockishness that would weigh you to the ground. You are proud of her, she is proud of you, and you are humble and proper. You carry attitudes well, I must say.”

“Ah'm a big brother ta two lil sisters and ah'm in line ta be head-a the family. Ah ain't got no choice but ta keep mah head about me and mah hooves on the ground.”

“Stable and grounded... we will see, young one. We will certainly see.”

The Surrender

“The end approaches. It is not far at all. I remember the end of my own journey but I did not know it was so close.” Argus shook his head and sighed. “I feel that was not very kind. I had no opportunity to savor the approach. But surely you will. Are you not excited?”

“Eeyup.” Though he did not look very enthused, Big Mac stroked and patted at Smarty-Pants, who was placed looking out of his collar. “It's been quite a trot. But ah'm glad ah had some good company on mah way ta get mah sweetie back inta mah life.”

“It may have been only my required fate, but it was not unpleasant. It warms my heart to see the likes of you, so full of honest love. And it makes me even more happy to hear of the world outside, to know that the world does indeed move on. Would it be selfishness to give my kindness to your sister? I wish her only well in her marriage.”

“An' which sister would ya be givin' yer cheers?” Though his face was set in a neutral form there was some amusement in Big Mac's voice.

“Amusing, young one. I do, of course, wish your family all the best. But to, as I recall, your youngest sister. To her and her zebra betrothed. May they be happier than I was with Bee. Not that I wasn't happy with her. But the world was not happy with us, and it made life hard. I hope their lives will be easier.”

“Ain't no promises, but ah'm sure the family will take care-a them. Maybe mah cousin weren't rightly welcome but now there's a Cutie Mark. Ain't gonna be hassles...” Big Mac devolved into grumbles and a hung head.

“I see you must be rather tired. It has been a very long, very hard trot across this torturous land. And you had to do it alone...”

“Weren't none too much of a bother goin' it on mah own. It was fer Miss Smarty-Pants. Ah'd trot twice as far fer the chance ta put her by mah side.”

“Still, I know ahead there is a lovely spot for rest. It is not only comfortable but stocked with food and drink, which would certainly help after all that activity. I would imagine a large fellow like yourself gets hungry easily. It is a shame you lost your pack.”

“Ah see the land wouldda found a way ta take it away somehow, maybe even jes a big ol' hoof-a stone rising up outta the ground an' pullin' it right offa mah back. Ain't no never mind. Ya say this Granter's jes ahead. Why not keep on trottin'?”

“I admire your spirit and dedication. Hardly surprising from a farm stallion.” Argus motioned aside with his head. There was a sort of hollow depression in the wall on their right side. It was studded with especially brightly-glowing gems, pillows were laid out on the ground, and trays of succulent greens and delicious pastries were arranged around. Several metal carafes stood beside a collection of jeweled goblets. “But we are here, with other, similar, spaces along the way. Are you certain you would not care to stop for just a moment?”

“Ain't got the moment ta spare. Been wantin' ta hear Miss Smarty-Pants since the day she said she loved me, right before she dropped down an' went still. Mighty kind ta think of mah weary bones, but there's jes no chance ta stop when th' end is right through this cavern.”

“I want you to know, there's no real harm in stopping. Oh it looks self-indulgent and lazy, to be sure. The trappings of richness are intentional. But there is no real harm, save forgetting to start again. It is entirely possible to take a rest from 'appropriate refreshment' to 'slothful indolence' without much difficulty, but one must choose that. However, I very much suspect you will not even chance the temptation. You have that manner about you.”

“It ain't worth the risk. Ya can never tell 'round these parts what'll jes jump out atcha and trick ya. Ah ain't too famished, ah ain't too thirsty, an' bone-weary as ah may be, Miss Smarty-Pants ain't, and ah much 'spect she'd like the chance ta get so tired.”

“So few find their way here, fewer in these modern days, and fewer still have the nerve to make the journey all the way through so far. Those that arrive are always so worthy of the gift, but the tiniest flaw can send them off the path. I think you may make it. I think Bee would have liked to have met you. Honorable ponies could made her friendly.”

“Where is yer bride? From what ya say, y'all was hitched a long time ago, when ponies an' zebras weren't none too kind ta one another. But yer still here, leadin' on a young pup like me, when zebras ain't much but neighbors fer us an' the griffins, an' one's got mah lil lil sis gigglin' an' sighin' an' moonin'.”

“Ah, Bee. Bee is... around. It is hard to explain how this land works from the inside looking out. Even having been as alive as you and trotted this ground myself there is no way to say that will satisfy you. It suffices to say that she is around, and waiting. But any time at all away from her side is unbearable. Even this short time in your company may as well be months apart.”

“Ya don't need ta take much trouble with it. Ah unnerstand it ain't a normal place. Ah also unnerstand ya feel a mite lonely without yer love. That's why Miss Smarty-Pants is always tucked in here, right 'gainst mah heart. So she knows it's always a-beatin' fer her.”

“You've done much for her. Given up plenty of time, effort, probably done a bit of inconveniencing of your family to go in this trip. I wonder though... there comes a point on this journey where you must answer the ultimate question.”

“An' jest what question might that be?” Big Mac looked a bit suspiciously over at Argus. He was not actually mistrustful of the zebra himself, but what he might be forced to do in the name of the Granter's world.

“Just how much would you be willing to surrender for her?” Before them appeared an imposing rock wall, studded with glowing gems, and containing a single, small opening showing the passage beyond. “You have so much that you don't even realize it. If love required it, would you give it all away? Plenty have glibly asserted they would, but when the time came to pay they could not produce the fee.”

“Got mah skin an' bones on me right this minute. Ain't much ah need but miss Smarty-Pants. Mah family means a lot, ain't gonna give up on them.” Big Mac eyed the opening. Not much there. He'd have to be pared down to pieces just to get through.

“You have stout, strong muscles, polished by a lifetime of work. Would you give all your strength in the name of passage? It's for her.”

“Ah worked 'em up once. Ah can do it again. It ain't a burden...” As soon as the words were out of his mouth Big Mac shielded his eyes from a flash, and staggered around for a moment. He felt different, lighter yet more burdened. His head sagged beneath the sudden weight of his collar. His first look at himself showed that he was a collection of twigs. Scrawny legs led up into a wizened body, devoid of the powerful muscles he recalled. He was a little like Granny Smith in her sere senescence. “Thin ah can fit now?”

“You gave up one thing. Surely you have much more to give. They may be weaker but you still have four good legs. Could you give up all your limbs for the opportunity to pass?”

“Hole's that small... suppose ah ain't got much choice...” As soon as the words were out of his mouth there was another flash of light. He was on the ground, legless, resting his weakened neck on his collar. “Ah can make it. Jes gotta go...”

“You can. You can... or can you? Is there any other thing you might hold in higher esteem than her? What of your eyes? Perhaps your nose. The sensation of your flesh or your hearing. There is always more to give, and would you be willing to give it all for the chance to move forward?”

Big Mac looked on at the small opening, and then down at Smarty-Pants. With a shake of his head he resolutely set forward, wiggling his body like a snake. “Eenope, tain't worth it.”

“So... she is not worth your sacrifice?” Argus loomed over Big Mac's wiggling form, peering down at him.

“Ah can give up a lot. But ah ain't givin' her up.”

“I asked to give of yourself, not her. Why would you think you needed to?”

“If ah give mah eyes, I could never see her again. Give mah touch and ah can't feel her against mah chest. Give mah ears ah can't hear her sweet voice when she's back ta me. Take everythin' else. Don't need it. But ya can't have her. Ya ain't takin' her away from me.”

Argus nodded his head, a smile on his lips. “I bore Bee on my back, even after I gave up everything but an ability to feel her. She guided me, with a gentle touch. You would surrender everything but her. The mere experience of her is all you need. You are truly an admirable pony, young one.”

“Ain't nothin' but the right thing ta do.” Big Mac wriggled his scrawny form through the low gap, pulling on the stony ground with what was left of his body. “Gotta be with her, always. She's part-a me, deep down.”

“I suppose that it will be no matter to move on through the last obstacle, the final thing standing between you and her. Come along, then. See what faces you.”

“Jes a moment...” Big Mac finished pulling himself through the opening, a bright flash heralding the return of all that had been lost. With everything back in order, he moved along behind Argus. “The last, ya say? Gotta fight some kinda beast that prove mah worth 'r cut off mah own head?”

“You jest, but such would seem very in place in this place. No, there is no such thing to face you. But you will hardly find it any kinder. For it is, at last, the one thing that cannot be passed with a good lie or with mere stone-headed perseverance. I used to wonder how it was that it was at the end. On reflection I see... it is the ultimate test. To pass all the others could, perhaps, be done with ego and will. But this, there is no lie that would pass it by.”

“Then bring me to it. Ah'll show what ah've got. Ah ain't afraid.”

“Do not be afraid. Be yourself...” Before the two stallions there appears a wall of roaring flames, which persisted for a moment, only to be replaced by great sheets of mist-exuding ice. After the display there was nothing, save for a line on the ground. “The end, if you are not sure of what lies within.”

“Ah ain't no unicorn, ain't no dragon, ain't no mera. Ah may be strong but ah can't jes walk through fire an' ice.”

“You misunderstand. It is what is within you. This is the wall of your heart. It is to punish the intemperate and the spiritless alike. A love that burns too hot, like a passionate fling that will never last is burnt to cinders. A love that exists as a cold and businesslike proposition without any feeling at all is chilled to the bone. No extremes, no excess or lack. If you do not actually trot this middle path, there is no hope for you. Those faced by this may turn around, or think they can go forward and face only disaster. Here you see the very end. What will you do now? It was a good effort, whatever you may do.”

Big Mac regarded the line on the ground, his face calm but his mind racing. He was a decent fellow. Calm, cool, collected. Perhaps too cool. He was not one to show his emotions easily, and perhaps he had inherited some of the ice from his granny's soul. He only ever knew warmth and happiness from his father and mother but bad blood could pass from generations separated by many kinds of spaces.

But perhaps there was no worry about the ice. The fire... he loved miss Smarty-Pants. Loved her with all his heart, with all the hidden passion that resided inside of himself. He had been a good country colt, had restrained himself, even though she had told him herself that he could use her image to please himself. He had been restrained. But still it burned in him.

That restraint was surely a sign of his middle way. Unless it was a sign of his coldness. It had been a long while since he had been with her, while she could respond. He made every day a romantic time, and made sure he talked to her all the time. But she was a still and lifeless doll, even if she was gathering the mana traces. It might have been a cold and meaningless ritual, rather than real love.

But he kept up with it. Day on day, his heart ever for her, thinking of her, forever keeping her in his thoughts and part of his very being. In truth, even if he never slapped, touched or rubbed to her, he still thought of her. Her sweet voice, her soft form, the love and adoration she had for him. She had it for him, he certainly showed that he had it for her. But was it too much?

Too much or not enough? He couldn't be sure. And to send Smarty-Pants through more heat or cold, a tremendous amount... to turn around would be to just give up on all the hardships he had endured, and all the thing he had forced upon Smarty-Pants. Uncertain as he was, he had to go forward. Fly or fall, he could not waste what he had invested in the journey.

He took a single step forward, touching the line traced on the ground. Immediately he could feel the icy wind swirl around, his breath coming in a misty huff. The ice was forming on his coat again, faster than it had before. He dared to take another step, and found it all went away, replaced with a hot wind, like the breath of the desert. He could feel the invisible flames licking over his body, not yet ignited fully, but rising slowly. His heart was being weighed, and each moment made it clearer and clearer he would suffer some fate as dictated by the wall.

Another step, filled with trembling hesitation, took him through a freezing breeze mixed with a heated flush that screamed across his whole form. The feeling of both heat and cold intensified, numbing his flesh right besides the stripes of burnt hair and searing skin. It hurt, hurt more than anything in his quest had. But he took that one final step that sent him fully past the line on the ground.

It was over. His body was fine, no flesh deadened by cold or scorched off by flame. He looked back to the line on the ground. Just a line, neither marked with ash nor ice. “Ah'm guessin' ah passed...”

“You even hesitated. The unworthy often strike forth without doubt. Those that deserve it are always full of doubts. It is good to doubt. It means you know there are things you have done wrong and places where you have stumbled. In the end, you have been validated. Love neither too hot and wild nor cold and weak.”

Big Mac heaved a sigh, and stroked Smarty-Pants on the head. “Darlin'... warm up yer voice. Ah wanna listen to ya talk fer hours an' hours.”

“Yes indeed, you are steps away. Welcome, young one, to the sanctum of the Granter.”

The Granter

The cavern down which the two stallions were walking slowly grew less cave-like. Though the walls and floor were still studded with glowing magical gems the ceiling began to get higher and higher, while the ground started to take on a softer feel, becoming bare dirt and taking on a scattering of grass which grew lusher as they walked. “This land surely is greatly magical.”

“It was made to be so. After all, tests must be administered, but after that there must be some beauty and comfort as a minor part of the reward. You've come so far, and you earned this.” Argus used his walking stick to indicate what was coming into view.

The narrow path exploded out into a sumptuous space, the gem-studded high ceiling taking on the cast of a sky in mid-spring. The mana-infused blue crystals were spaced just right to capture that perfect tone as though the sun was high, with white mana surges that rolled slowly like passing clouds. Beyond the ersatz sky the scenery was loaded with stands of trees their healthy, full leaves creating shaded groves, with plenty of grassland between them to provide a winding path that led to a small clearing. It was a semi-circle of marble columns etched with lots of writing in a language that Big Mac could just recognize as Hipposian, though he could not read it. At the front of the columns was a marble slab set up like a very traditional wedding altar. In the center of the semi-circle was a raised pedestal of gold-ringed marble, on which was standing a marble statue, somewhat in the style of Discord's original pose.

The creature depicted looked like a goat. He had the curved horns and the little beard hanging off of his chin. But his body was distinctly not very goat-like. He stood on two legs, like a Diamond Dog, Iron Will or Discord. His proportions were more even than a Diamond Dog, however. His arms and legs seemed equally long, both being very smooth and trim. His torso was also proportional, not blocky or overly elongated, looking long and more lithe than the bulky muscle of the large Dogs or Iron Will. His legs ended in large, split hooves while his arms ended in hands with three deft fingers and a thumb. Around his body was wrapped a toga, the stone garment appearing to be held closed on the body by a large, golden brooch, a circle with the inside molded to look like the sun, with a molded crescent moon inside the disc of the radiating sun.

Big Mac regarded the statue. He tried to remain looking neutral, but the slight fall of his face betrayed the feeling of disappointment. “That's th' end, then? Top-a this world and the thing ah've been through Tartarus for?”

“Yes, young one. Here is the end of your journey. The conclusion to all the trials and pain and suffering. The relief at the end of all this sorrow. Here you see the being that will make your divisions vanish. Here is the Granter.”

Big Mac looked over the statue again. The chiseled features had none of the malice of Discord, though he looked as mischievous. There was nothing very special about the statue that he could see, but he had been surprised before. “Uh... pleasure ta make yer acquaintance mister Granter, sir. Do ah... need ta do some kinda dance 'r sing a song fer ya ta do what ah needs done?”

At first there was no response from anything. Then the world began to shake. The ground rolled and bucked, Argus standing placidly by while Big Mac tumbled off of his hooves. He looked up at the statue from his position on the ground, noticing that the golden disc was starting to shine, as were the eyes of the statue. The sound of cracking stone started to ring out through the area, along with a kind of ominous chanting. The voice was deep and heavy, reverberating through the air, and using many different languages one after the other, all of them unknown to the fallen stallion. That went on until he caught one word he could identify. 'Ninakupena.' He had heard that before, from Zecora to his sister. In the Zebra tongue it meant, 'I love you.'

As soon as the recognition crossed his face there was a blinding flash of light and the sound of pattering stone. When Big Mac's eyes had recovered he saw the statue was gone, replaced with the real creature. His coat was pure white, as was his toga. His rectangular pupils were surrounded by irises in a green color ringed with gold, his horns were a polished black color, and there was a crown of laurels on his head. He was leaning over the altar, looking down on the fallen stallion. He spoke with a deep, sonorous voice, which seemed strange out of his lithe and feminine form. “Karibu. Habari gani? Jina lako ni nani?”

The red stallion was rather stunned by that. The statue was alive and speaking. He could recognize the accent if not the words necessarily. He was speaking to him in the Zebra language. “Uh... sorry sir. Ah ain't a speaker-a that like mister Argus here.”

The Granter tilted his head slightly, green eyes flashing gold for a short moment before he spoke again, still deep and strong. “Welcome. How are you? What is your name?”

Some kind of comprehension came to Big Mac. He recognized the phrase, so he thought that was his language. “I am... well, sir. Mah name is Big Macintosh Apple. Big Mac to mah friends and relations. Sorry ah misled ya, ah knows the phrase 'cause mah littl'st sister is seein' a zebra.”

There was a moment of pause, then the goat being pulled back and gave a bleating laugh. “No trouble, no trouble young man. I've made that mistake many a time before. Polyglots are remarkably common.” His voice changed tone, becoming brighter, higher and more appropriate for his appearance. “Welcome to my sanctum, the garden of delights. The end of the journey and your reward for your worthiness.”

“S'a great pleasure ta make yer acquaintance mister Granter sir. This is a lovely place ya got here, makes me recall the orchards-a home.” Big Mac looked around with a small nod. “Very nice.”

“Yes, yes. When the realm was carved for me I was allowed to ask for whatever land I wished for my personal domain. And there is such beauty in these rolling hills, lush fields and beautiful orchards. They bring to mind the world I remember I tried to spread about me, in defiance of my brothers and sisters.” The Granter looked wistfully about and leaped up to take a relaxing posture in the air.

“Ah was not aware ya had relations, sir. Who might they be?”

“I have been so disconnected from them it is no surprise our relationship is invisible. But surely as a pony you remember them. The accursed, the Undergods of Discord, the monsters your righteous princesses threw into Tartarus.” The Granter affected an heroic pose, fist in the air, pretty face set hard and determined.

“Ah can't say as I remember much about that time. History ain't mah strong suit. Ah'm better at fancy mathematics.”

The Granter looked initially disappointed, but started counting something off on his fingers and nodded. “Of course. More than a thousand years will be very unkind to details, especially if those details are meant to be forgotten. We were made by chaos his own self, out of the swirling mass of his own power. That was why he could be defeated, you know. When he made the Undergods and his artifacts he forced too much chaos into order; he could not remain all-powerful. My father was a fool, and my brothers and sisters beasts. Hmm, perhaps it truly is better that it was all forgotten. Life is much more pleasant with that darkness in the past, or so I would believe from those who have come to me.”

“Learn somethin' new every day. Don't mean ta pry up yer painful secrets.”

“Oh it is not a problem. Remembering what makes me different always makes me happy. Father wished for us all to be evil, but chaos will be itself. I was made benevolent. He wanted me to be the beast of lust, but I was only ever the bringer of love. I wanted to bring together what ill circumstance had torn apart.” The Granter looked moonily out, fists under his chin, hooves lightly kicking as he hovered on his belly.

“Don't mean to ask a question ya may be tired of, but why ain't ya in Equestria, 'r wanderin' the world ta help out?”

“It was never to be. Almost all of the children of Discord were thrown into that other world. Furia Bestia hid, the coward. Fought and ran away. I hope they punished it properly. And for me... Celestia and Luna, in their mercy, gave me this realm. I could not be free to remind others of that terrible time. But I still wished to help. Thus was the Granter born. My old name forgotten, and a legendary uniter of hearts divided by harm was placed in a realm beyond. I was also to watch over the most horrible of the ancient Discordians. I do it happily. Imprisonment for as many centuries as seems right.”

“Yes ah saw. Ah do not envy you yer job.” Big Mac shook his head, then reached into his collar and pulled out Smarty-Pants. “This here is the little lady that done brought me here. Her name is miss Smarty-Pants, and she's the kindest, sweetest, purdiest gal that ever was in Equestria.”

The Granter pulled out a magnifying glass and focused on Smarty-Pants, the magnification of one rectangular pupil being oddly amusing for all who could see. “I see. My goodness. I've heard of 'big male, small female' pairs before but this is the greatest gulf I have ever seen. I assume you require that she be reconstructed at your own stature?”

“No, no, no sir. Ah ain't so much concerned 'bout how big 'r small she is. But look...” Big Mac gave Smarty-Pants a gentle nudge, letting her lightly roll in his hold and come to a rest, unmoving. “Ah cared fer her when she was jes a doll ta me. Then a spell made her alive fer a night. And a day. She stole mah heart. But mah friend Twilight told me that it weren't right ta keep her coming back after the magic goes out. Ah couldn't bear her livin' an' dyin' over an' over again, knowin' she ain't nothin' but a puppet fer the magical.”

The Granter nodded his head, the magnifying glass taking on a swirling, colorful hue. “Yes, I see. She is acquiring mana traces and integrating them into her natural matrix. She's been very well cared for. Objects don't acquire mana envelopes without a certain degree of concern. Simple spells would certainly give her temporary life. But you want it permanent, don't you?'

“Eeyup, sir. Long as ah live, ah'd want her to too.”

“How cruel! Suppose you step a hoof outside this land and drop dead of a heart condition? Would you wish her to fall down dead right beside you as well?” The Granter stared at Big Mac through the magnifying glass, the swirling colors growing dark while the eye grew steely and focused.

“W-what? No! Not at all, sir! Ah'm sayin' ah'd want her ta have the same kinda length of life as ah might, barrin' tragic an' unforeseen events, o'course.”

“The lifespan of the natural pony. A long and glorious span, for you. But imagine beings like me, or your princesses. A millennium and more passes like wind over water. Or think on dragons, who live, perhaps, not as long but longer than a pony. Magic will persist as it will. Imposing a span before she might wear away is to pronounce a death sentence upon her.” The eye in the magnifying glass closed more, becoming even more hard and scrutinizing.

“Ain't mah intention,” Big Mac said with some trace of annoyance and venom. He quickly returned to his normal, mild tone and noted, “Ah only want her to live. How long ain't none-a mah concern. Enough to enjoy it is all.”

“Hmm...” The Granter kept staring for a long, uncomfortable moment before the magnifying glass pulled away and revealed the smiling face of the goat-being. “That's what I thought. You are a caring and charmingly rustic farmer. I have known your type before. You fail in as equal a measure as you succeed in your quest here, as do all types. But you were one of the good ones and so I see the merit in your request.”

“Not sure as ah unnerstand how ah failed if ah made it, but glad y'all see that ah deserve ta have miss Smarty-Pants come ta life proper,” Big Mac said, tilting his head at the Granter.

“You skirted the rules with that fancy little loop-around in the shrieking wind, you lost your temper, almost released a Discordian and nearly gave in against your own grandmother. But your presence here means your failings were imperfect and passing. All mortals fail. Even immortals fail, or at least have regrets. But the ideal is to have as few as possible.” The Granter suddenly turned on Argus. “Did you remember to restrict yourself to the limits of your allowance and attempt to sway him off the path with the smallest temptations?”

“I did as I was asked and did not give too much away. It was an honor to serve, for all you did for myself and Bee,” Argus said, giving a bow. “What were you afraid that I would give away?”

“The price,” The Granter said, turning a serious gaze on Big Mac. “The price, young one, is your fate. My powers come freely but not without some change on your part. Whatsoever might have been your ultimate destiny, whether to trot the golden road, to enrich the land, to rest in the moonlit glade or cavort in the pleasant garden estate, it would be no more. The life after life would come to me.”

Big Macintosh took on a contemplative look, scratching lightly at the ground. “As ya love love, ah'm guessin' ya intend that miss Smarty-Pants' soul would come along fer the fate, is that right?”

“What love and fate have truly joined no creature may divide. Marriage may fail, lust may fail, but real love will unite through fate and all the shocks of life. Even through mistakes the true love will win out,” The Granter said, in a moony tone. “You will never be apart.”

Big Mac nodded his huge head and looked down at Smarty-Pants. “Ah would do anythin' fer her. But ah can't take anythin' from her she ain't given. Ah'll sell ya mah soul, whole an' complete, take it from me right this minute if that'll buy miss Smarty-Pants' life. But ah can't sell ya her soul. It ain't mine ta give.”

The Granter looked at Big Mac, confused, for a moment before he snapped to comprehension and let out a huge, bleating laugh. “You misunderstand! It is not a fee, it is a fact. The nature of accepting my gift. It affects your inner nature and what becomes of you after your life ends. I'm not sure how, I'm sure there's some explanation that is beyond me. That is the truth of it. But you were correct about one thing. I can ask if it is acceptable to you, but I cannot make you decide for her. So I must give a gift before I know if it is appropriate...” The Granter touched Smarty-Pants on the head with a finger, creating a flash of white light.

Smarty-Pants stirred right away, rising up with a soft sound and flailing her cloth arms. “I accept, I accept! Please, I accept! Let my soul be here as long as it is with him!” She had the same cultured voice, less that a Trottingham accent and not as overpowering as Rarity's slightly-affected tone.

Big Mac grabbed up Smarty-Pants and squeezed her tight. “Miss Smarty-Pants! It's so good ta have ya back...” He released her and set her on the ground, looking away with a guilty face. “Ah'm so sorry fer all the pain ah put ya through getting' ya here...”

“Oh Mac...” She gave him a little cloth kiss on his cheek. “I... don't feel like you imagine I do. I know when something is against me, if it is moving, if it is hot or cold. And if my form is damaged. But I don't feel pain or pleasure. I was more worried about you! You put yourself through such pain for me...”

“'Twerent nothin', ma'am. Had ta do it, so ah did it,” Big Mac said, trying to look mild and modest. “And ah did a good job. Got ya here, an' this fine gentlebilly done gave ya yer life. As long as a pony, ah hope,” Big Mac said, with a sideways glance to the Granter.

“As long as a pony could live. Or a donkey, really. That seems to be what she was supposed to be. But yes! It has been given. I suppose your mission is done. But, you know...” The Granter seemed about to say something but thought better of it and just went back to hovering.

“Uh, Mister Granter sir? Was there somethin' else ah needed ta do?” Big Mac turned around to face the Granter, Smarty-Pants riding on his head.

“Well... I would never say you needed to to it but...” The Granter wiggled his fingers and shrugged a bit. “I wonder... you have her with you. What now? I'm sure that your wonderful princesses will keep others from thinking ill of you. But your life... it won't be very much will it?”

Big Mac looked on the goat in some confusion. “Can't imagine what yer gettin' at, sir.”

“Well, I mean... her stature is rather...” The Granter vanished and appeared beside Smarty-Pants, at her size, holding a hand up, comparing himself to her, “Miniscule. Perhaps that is not a problem. But... well, I know you are used to being larger than other ladies but this is a bit much, is it not?”

Big Mac shrugged his shoulders a bit, “It don't make no nevermind ta me. Her size ain't what ah fell fer.”

“This is true. I thank you for your concern, it shows a good heart, but we will be very well,” Smarty-Pants concurred, giving the shrunken Granter a pat on the back.

The Granter nodded his head and leaped off of Big Mac's head, taking his old size again. “I see! Your maturity is truly wonderful. I just wanted you to see that spot over there...” He pointed over to a place that had not been in existence a moment before. It was a shining, beautiful glade filled with fruit trees and waterfalls, just across a narrow stone bridge that spanned the long divide around it. “There are always more beautiful spaces. Greener pastures. Better bodies...”

“Jes what do ya think yer sayin'? Jes 'cause yer some kinda god ya think ya can say those kinda things?” Big Mac strode towards the Granter with an indignant huff, pushing his chest against the creature's body. “Ain't none finer than Miss Smarty-Pants!”

“But you heard her... she doesn't really feel pain... or pleasure,” The Granter said, floating off and away from Big Mac, over towards the stone bridge. “Isn't one more challenge a small price to pay for a carnal relationship? I am the Granter of love, yes, but I know that a good bit of carnality enhances that love, makes it deeper and stronger. Or did you never consider what a life of endless chastity might be like?”

“It's not important to me. I know I will never know the pleasure that Mac can, but I don't need it. I can be happy being by his side the rest of our lives,” Smarty-Pants said, softly patting Big Mac's head.

“But can he?” The Granter asked, looking seriously at Big Macintosh. “He is a pony, and subject to all the weaknesses of the flesh. I have seen it more times than you can know. Failings of mortality, as I said, are common. He will love you... but never love you,” The Granter spoke with a certain heated huskiness, licking his lips slightly to emphasize his meaning.

“You stop that right now,” Big Mac snorted, trembling slightly and occasionally looking to the glowing land. “Ah don't care 'bout none-a that. She ain't gonna be no... sex toy 'r nothin' like that. Gitcher mind outta the gutter! Ah don't need that!”

“Can you... live all your life like that? Sexless and passionless?” Smarty-Pants hesitated on Big Mac's head, and then clambered over to sit on his nose. “It was selfish of me to assume if I could live without pleasure you could as well. Perhaps... we should take this last challenge.”

“Ah don't... ah don't need it,” Big Mac said, softly, reaching up to softly stroke Smarty-Pants on the back. “Ah jes need you. This ain't somethin' ah'm gonna go crazy over.”

“How can you say that, Mac? It's... it really is important. I've heard about it. Intimate relations between ponies are important in romantic interpersonal relations,” Smarty-Pants said, with a teacher-like tone and cadence. She noted the stares she was getting and added, “Twilight considered adding that to her studies but discarded it. She may be doing that now, if what you say about the depth of her relations with Pinkie Pie are true.”

“Eeyup, it must be true. Applejack's always tellin' me how schmoopsy-boo Twilight an' Pinkie can be,” Big Mac said. “But that ain't no concern-a mine. We'll be fine, jes like this. Ah promise ya.”

“You can say it all you like,” The Granter said, leaning casually against the air as he stood by the stone bridge, “But can you live those long, lonely nights, slapping your belly and hiding your shame as she just stands there, trying not to look at you, trying not to listen to you showing she's not enough.”

“Shut. Yer. Mouth.” Big Mac seethed, his normal kind look darkening into a hard frown.

“You lie to yourself, and you lie to her, but do you think you can lie to a being like me?” the Granter asked, leaning forward with a smug grin. “Do you honestly expect me to believe it could be anything but thus? You delude yourself in a most unbecoming way. She is but a little scrap of animated cloth. Mana envelope or not it is what she is. A desire-lacking, tiny-bodied scrap of well-worn, sewn-together fabric.”

“It's... it's true...” Smarty-Pants whimpered, falling to her cloth knees and planting her front legs over her button eyes. After making sobbing sounds for a moment she slammed her cloth limbs down on big Mac's head and shrieked, “I can't even actually cry with these worthless buttons!”

Big Mac snorted sharply and approached The Granter, using all of his size as a bluff. “Yer hurtin' th' donkey ah love and ah ain't gonna letcha do it! All yer lies an' insults don't mean nothin' ta folks in love! Ya listen here an' listen good, it don't matter. It don't matter that she is what she is. What she is is mah love an' that's th' end of it!”

The Granter leaned closer, looking more smug. “You can solve all the troubles. Make an easier life. A more beautiful life, right over here. Give her a real body, a better body than that torn-up piece of-”

Big Mac never let him finish. He spun around with all the speed his huge body would allow and bucked out hard. “You quiet down!” The hooves impacted the goat-being's face, filled with all the power of his anger and the energy he had previously displayed destroying the ice wall showing his grandmother.

Though appearing fleshy, the smug face of the Granter shattered like a piece of glass, falling to the ground as the cracks followed through his body. As the pieces hit the ground they just seemed to disintegrate and blow away into nothing. However, his bleating laughter echoed over the scene, seeming to come from everywhere. The laughter grew more focused, eventually leading to the coalescing of dust that turned into his body once more. “Well! I know when I have an offer turned down! Congratulations, young one! You passed! You passed the final test.”

Big Mac stood there, confused, still slightly up on his front legs. He went down to the ground slowly, approaching the Granter with a hesitant step. “Beggin' yer pardon... what the hay kinda test was that, that needed y'all ta insult Miss Smarty-Pants an' get me ta buck th' everloving life outta ya?”

“The true test of love,” The Granter said, floating over to the stone bridge. He floated down to stand on it, but kept going down as the first touch made it crumble to dust. “Real love is accepting your lover as they truly are. What I take away is the barriers that make it unbearable, not that which is merely cosmetic. Hideous maiming that makes their lives an unbearable agony, lack of volition such as a comatose state or simply being an object, sterility, incompatibility, things such as that. To demand that your lover be remade is a sign you never really loved them. And to do that is deceitful.” The Granter led Big Mac and Smarty-Pants to the edge of the divide, showing them the bottom. Down in that gap was a collection of figures, largely ponies, but with a few others, including a dragon. They screamed silently, thrashed about, threw themselves into the walls and lashed out at everyone in reach.

Big Mac staggered back from the edge, eyes wide and fearful. “What was that?”

“The Vale of the Deceitful,” The Granter said, almost in a whisper. “That is the fate of those who fail, who show they have duplicity at the bottom of their hearts. To come through all the challenges only to fall to baseness at the end... it deserves no less,” The Granter snorted and floated away from the edge. “But you turned it down. You really love her. And I am sorry for hurting her. I knew she would remain with you. You would be the one to rise or fall. You rose.” He turned to Argus and smiled. “Do you remember what your wife did when I tried to convince you to take the stripes off your back or take the horn off of her head to make you both the same?”

Argus grinned and nodded his head. “As I recall, she stabbed you in the face with her horn and yelled at you to never demand that the stripes come off my back. She was very... sensitized by the awful folk back at home.”

“They both had a part of the total problem,” The Granter said to Big Mac and Smarty-Pants. “The most tragic confluence of coincidences. He, born sterile, she, born barren. Both assumed they were the problem and came only to cure their own failing to deliver children. Such lovers are what I wish all the world was filled with.”

“Well... now that it is all complete, may I go? To be away from Bee, even for this short span, is terrible,” Argus said.

“Of course. Thank you for your service and be well. I knew I chose correctly when I chose you,” The Granter said, making Argus vanish with a wave of his hand. “And now for you... there was one, last, not-a-trick matter.”

“And, uh, what might that be, sir?” Big Mac looked to the Granter with a raised brow. He was rapidly growing tired of all the trickery. It was much like working with a non-malevolent Discord. That made sense given the familial relation.

“It concerns your lover,” The Granter said, using his power to lift Smarty-Pants into the air. He used one hand to move her in the air while the other was filled with a swirling red light. “She already has a loving soul...” The red magic slowly drew together into a pulsating shape. “Now she needs a living heart.” He thrust his hand forward, creating a tremendous flash as the beating heart hit Smarty-Pants' plush body.

Big Mac covered his eyes with a leg, calling out, “What? What's happenin'? Ah thought ya told me it was wrong ta ask!?”

“It was wrong to ask. This is not you asking your lover be altered out of vanity. This is my granting of a gift that will make your both happier and more content, and capable of filling the world with love,” The Granter said, standing proudly after the flash faded.

The dimming of the light revealed Smarty Pants. She was still her old color, but it was flesh and fur, not cloth. She had her old mane and tail, but rather than yarn it was regular hair pulled into thick bundles. Her large, caring eyes were two-toned, the same colors as her buttons had been. She was even wearing her old polka dot pants. “I... I... I can feel...” Smarty Pants spoke with reverential awe. “I... feel things. I see things. I can hear and smell and everything else; it's not like gathering the impressions in the mana.”

“M-miss Smarty-Pants! It's you!” Big Mac started to run towards the new Smarty Pants but was stopped by the Granter holding a hand up before him, slowly turning a serious look on Smarty Pants.

“You don't know what I have given you, do you?” The Granter asked, his voice as deep and reverberant as it had been during his introduction. “You have no idea what has been done to you.”

“You made me real... I'm a real donkey now. I can feel him with me, I can be close to him and know that it will actually feel like something. I can... do everything a real donkey could do... because now I am one,” Smarty Pants said, a blush burning across her cheeks.

“You think that is all? Such cheerful sentiments. But you have ignored one thing. I gave you death,” The Granter whispered, leaning in closer, to look Smarty Pants right in the eyes. “You will not linger on decade after decade after he is gone. Don't you see I, an immortal, have given you, another, a mortal's curse? Now both of you will grow old, you will wither and you will die.”

At first Smarty Pants had no response to the statement. She stared beyond the granter, eyes unfocused as she processed the information. She grabbed him up in a sudden hug, tears pouring out of her mismatched eyes as she squeezed him crushingly tight with her donkey strength. “Thank you... thank you... thank you so much...”

“It was only polite,” The Granter squeaked out, his upper body inflated like a balloon. He slithered out of the grip and smoothed out his toga, smiling a giant, friendly smile. “Well, go on! He really, really wants to hug his special somedonkey. Don't leave him waiting.”

Smarty Pants did not hesitate. She dashed across the short divide between herself and Big Mac, grabbing him up in a hug just as crushing as the one he was giving her. Earth pony strength met donkey strength, Big Mac's considerable muscular development and size putting him on par with Smarty Pants' own natural capability. “I never dreamed it could be like this...” Smarty pants muttered, rubbing her head against Big Mac's neck.

Big Mac sighed deeply, relishing the feeling of Smarty Pants' strength, noting well how she took the force of his hug without a problem. “Ah know, darlin'. Ah know... it's like a dream.”

“But it is no dream. It is quite real,” The Granter said, cheerfully patting the couple on the shoulders. “But now it is time for you to return home, in triumph. Here...” The Granter presented Big Mac with the pack he had lost earlier. “You need to have this to call for a ride home.”

“Thank ya sir...” Big Mac looked down at Smarty Pants, and broadened his smile. “Thank ya so much...”

“It was a great pleasure, you two. Now go and fill your world with love, unafraid,” The Granter said, adding, “Oh, and I mean to take nothing from your princesses, but... I did a bit of their job, as I always did before. You need not bother them about your compatibility... your children will be born properly fertile,” He then waved his hands and sent Big Mac and Smarty Pants away with a rush of magic.

The two lovers found themselves back on the gentle lea they had passed through at at the start of the journey. There was a fundamental change in it, however. Rather than being empty it was well-populated with numerous folk, ponies and non-ponies. They were somewhat hazy and indistinct but they could both identify them. Two of the figures noticed the living couple and trotted over to see them. It was Argus and a unicorn mare. Her color was washed out by whatever effect left them indistinct, but her mane style was very zebra-like, with numerous tight braids ending in gold bands. She had a few bracelets on her legs and a wedding band on her horn. “So you're the reason my husband was yanked away from my side. I was promised an eternal rest with him,” She said with a scowl. Then she winked and laughed, “But you make a lovely couple. I see why he was chosen.”

Big Macintosh nodded his head politely and Smarty Pants said, “Thank you very much. I take it that you are the Humblebee he mentioned. He spoke very highly of you.”

“Well, that's because he's a sweetheart and can't live without me,” Humblebee laughed, and ruffled Argus' mane. She then tugged on his long beard and tsked at him. “You can control the age you appear. Why this? It's distinguished but I like you young and vital. Not that it dropped off much towards the end...”

“Ah! Yes, of course... the Granter asked me to take on a very august and mature look. It is right for a guide. But let me fix that for you...” Argus concentrated, his beard shortening slightly and growing darker, his features growing tighter and more youthful, figure becoming much more muscular. “Better, dear?”

“Like it was when I married you,” Humblebee said, leaning in to kiss Argus on the lips.

Big Macintosh looked around at the scene, nodding his head a bit. Then he noticed a single figure sitting, looking somewhat dejected. She looked like an earth pony wearing an elaborate outfit. “What's the story there? Ah thought that this was all about love.”

“Ah yes. We... do not speak of her...” Humblebee shook her head sadly and looked on the lone figure. “She has been here probably longer than any of us. Her own partner has been separated from her for a long, long while. Hundreds of years if tales are to be believed. And she sits there because the Granter gave her the option to sit while time passed her by. She remains there, not feeling the passage of the ages as long as we never speak her name or the name of her love.”

Big Mac shook his head. “A sad situation. Was it a dragon?”

“No, that is the thing the rumors are clearest about. It was a pony that somehow came to live for centuries. We do not speculate. We could guess correctly and break her happiness,” Argus said, turning away from the single pony.

“Then let us not be here too long. When may we contact Princess Luna, dear?” Smarty Pants asked.

“Soon enough. Alls ah gotta do is write out a letter and send it off back ta her,” Big Mac said, pulling the enchanted parchment from the Lunar guard rucksack.

“Perhaps you should wait until you are truly in your own land, on the other side of the river. That is the border between worlds. Once you have passed, you may freely send your message. It has been a pleasure to be your guide, Big Macintosh, and yours as well, Miss Smarty Pants,” Argus said, bowing his head to the two.

“A pleasure, sir. A pleasure,” Big Mac smiled, then looked around again at all the figures, asking, “So... can we see 'em 'cause we're part-a this world now?”

“It makes sense. You are returning here some day. Some part of you has changed so that it is so,” Humblebee said with a smile. “It will be good to welcome you back.”

“It will be... sad... to come back. Yet we will be together, with cheerful company. It should be well,” Smarty Pants said. With a final nod and smile she and Big Mac turned to find and cross the river.

Epilogue: Journey's End

Big Macintosh wrote out the letter and sent it off as soon as he was across the river and had found the tree with all the initials. He noted, with some pleasure, there was a heart around his and Miss Smarty Pants' initials. The wait was not unbearable, as the same airship that had borne him there had apparently been waiting at a nearby port with a thaumatic tag marking the drop point.

The airship conveyed the pair directly and swiftly to Canterlot, docking at one of the towers. Luna was there to meet them, along with her maid, Lime Sherbert. Both were happy about the news and the happening. Away from the suit chamber she was far less restrained, and shouted many high praises to Smarty Pants, comparing her favorably to Prince Blueblood's wife, Princess Connie.

“Thou shalt find this nation doth love and accept thee together,” Luna yelled in the Royal Canterlot voice. “Easily shall thy blood merge, as the Granter hath said. We may feel, indeed, thou hast changed in equal measure. Thou hast not the same feel as any stallion nor jenny we do know. Thou has been made to make children of perfect fertility. Good. Thou hast no need of our power.”

“It does save us some time. As I learned here in Canterlot I know much about the laws and ways of the upper levels,” Smarty Pants said with a smile.

“This was mighty kind of ya, yer highness,” Big Mac said, bowing to Princess Luna. “Ah don't rightly know how ah can thank ya fer this.”

“Live as thou wilt. That be thine only duty to us, to honor this opportunity thou hast been given,” Luna shouted, with a smile.

“Ah'm afraid we must be off, yer highness. Gotta head fer the train station ta get back ta Ponyville,” Big Mac said, pressing up against Smarty Pants.

“Nay!” Luna cried, putting some extra emphasis into her voice. “Shall we not hear of such a thing. Could we be said to be a hostess of graciousness and liberality should we let thee trot off with thy new love at this late point in the day? Already the birds come in to their roosts and make their vespers. Shall thou stay here in the palace. No great ado shall be made but shall thou not be ignored. Come, then, and let us show thee to the little space that shall hold thee.”

The 'little space' Luna had mentioned was one of the largest single-occupant-spaces in the palace, a tower suite that could have comfortably served as a home for a family, usually reserved for receiving diplomats. They had in-room dining, a near-feast that came with royal company, Prince Blueblood and Princess Connie. Both were very pleasant, even though Blueblood had to be corrected a few times by his wife. Connie and Smarty Pants both laughed over that.

“We who love jennies must accept that we will forever be wrong and they right. The sooner we come to understand this and settle into our place the sooner we will find indescribable happiness,” Blueblood said, raising a glass to Big Macintosh.

“Eeyup. Ah can tell. Ah'll learn me mah proper situation an' be a good husband ta her. Ah do wants me some-a that happiness,” Big Macintosh replied, raising his own glass and sharing Blueblood's winking smile.

After a night in the most amazing bed imaginable, which involved only kissing, chaste touching and sleeping, they met Luna again, who promised that she would convey them to Ponyville in what she described as, “A most modest and discreet vessel.”

That modest and discreet vessel turned out to be Princess Luna' s personal citadel-like airship, the gargantuan Principality-class Lunar Perigee, the largest airship in the world, save for Princess Celestia's equal-sized Solar Corona. The huge ship traveled with a support squad of smaller ships crewed by Wonderbolts, for no reason other than they were certified to crew them and it made a much better impression.

The flight of the great ship certainly brought plenty of buzz in Ponyville, all the citizens out and watching the great vessel pass over the town, coming to a halt over Sweet Apple Acres. The support ships all docked at Rainbow Dash's cloud manor, most of the support staff going to keep curious onlookers from wandering onto the Apple family property, a few others visiting Rainbow Dash to discuss her fit-reps, her pre-induction status, pose for photographs and sign autographs.

The impressive display of royal power brought out those Apple family members or close compatriots still on the farm, Applebloom and Zecora from the barn, Applejack from the orchard and Granny Smith from the house. They all watched, with some awe, as Princess Luna descended from the great ship, with Big Macintosh and Smarty Pants levitating just behind her. “Be thou not afraid, noble agricolae!” Princess Luna shouted, washing over them all with the Royal Canterlot voice. “We be not here for grim tidings! Rather thou shalt rejoice! Behold thine errant member, returned unto thee, with retinue. This unknown figure wast once but cloth and magic. This stallion, noble unto greatness, had fallen in deepest love with this poor soul, trapped in silent cloth. He did trek far, unto another world, to face a great being of legend, all to bring her to life. And more than life! No mere magic courses through her veins but now she be of flesh and blood! By his great love was this so! Art thou not overjoyed?”

All the mares looked on Smarty Pants silently, unsure of what to say. Applebloom resolved the conundrum by giving an enthused cry and running up to suddenly embrace one leg, squeezing it tight. “Ah've got another new almost-sister! First Miss Rainbow Dash an' now her!” She turned her gaze on Big Mac and gave him a shining-eyed look. “What's her name?”

“Uh, her name's Miss Smarty Pants...” Big Mac began.

“Wait! Ya mean like that doll that Twilight tried ta get us all interested in?” Applebloom asked, looking up at Smarty Pants with a quirked brow. “Well whadda ya know? She's got them same eyes an' that mane that Sweetie liked. How did ya manage ta fall in love with a doll?”

“Twilight brought her ta life,” Big Mac said, completely unashamed. “She was tryin' ta get Miss Smarty Pants back ta her. But she wanted ta be with me, ta talk ta me. After she fell down lifeless again ah asked Twilight ta make her alive again. She gave me one day with her. And ah lost mah heart. Ah didn't know what ta do until Twilight told me ta see Princess Luna. She knows all them old legends. Ah did what she said, an'... now ah have her.” Big Mac leaned over and kissed Smarty Pants on the cheek, making her blush and making Applebloom squeal with delight.

“My brother who will one day be/ I hope you are as happy as me,” Zecora said, coming up to pat Big Macintosh on the shoulder and stroke a hoof over Applebloom's head.

“Well now, big brother ah am just as pleased as Pericarp y'all found a special somepony... er, a special somedonkey, 'specially after that there Cheerilee situation. Now ya got yer own fiancee,” Applejack beamed proudly, solidly nudging her brother before she starting in on conversing with Smarty Pants.

“Madame Smith-Apple,” Luna said to Granny Smith, stepping up to her and speaking quietly, “May we converse with thee in seclusion? There be a matter of some urgency that we must relate.”

Granny Smith looked absolutely shocked. She quickly ran a shaking hoof over her mane and gave her best smile. “Why your majesty it would be a pleasure. Please come into mah home.” With that she led Princess Luna into the parlor of the house. “Ah sorry ah ain't got any vittles 'r tea fer ya.”

“We do prefer tea and victuals as prepared by our maid or the bakers of Canterlot,” Luna said, somewhat dismissively. Sotto voce she added, “Though th' ingredients be the same, the bitterness of thine hoof would taint any thing thou may craft.”

Granny Smith winced. She missed the quiet part, but what she could hear was bad enough. “O-of course, your majesty. Please, have a seat.” Granny Smith indicated a sofa, but was soon enough made aware that Luna would not sit. She, however, did have a seat. “What... what did ya need ta discuss?”

Luna looked sternly at Granny Smith, speaking in as detached and imperious a manner as possible. “Not for naught did we bring our great vessel. Our power be great. And our heart be for they who fear not to give love unto they that are not ponies. They such as... our great-nephew and much-loved great-niece. Prince Blueblood and Princess Connie. We keep not comp'ny nor compassion for they that would put aside such as they.”

Granny Smith had been smiling fake smiles for decades, trying to impress rich members of groups she did not like or important ponies with much more liberal stances. She faltered, for just a split second as she recognized that she was dealing with a being that, while she had not been actively seeing through deceit for a thousand years, had done it before her banishment, and after her return. She still tried to follow through with her smile, pulling it as large as possible. “Why your majesty ah have no idea what ya might be sayin'...” She began.

Princess Luna cut her off with a simple motion of her hoof. “Thy duplicity does thee ill in our eyes. Much would we prefer thy confession and contrition. That thou art but an ancient thing of pettiness and disdain, that thou wouldst wish greatly to be healed and that thou would be sincere in change.”

“Yer majesty ah jes don't know what yer talking about? Why, ah haven't got a hateful bone in mah body.” Granny Smith said.

“Doest thou think us a fool?!” Luna put up a soundproof barrier, to keep all the rest of the family blissfully unaware of the Royal Canterlot voice being used against Granny Smith. “Thy secrets be not thine own. As 'tis said well, two may keep intelligence if one be buried. No, before thou wouldst punish thy grandson, he did speak not a word. He be good kin, and doth want only peace and happiness. Concern thyself not with how we do know. We do know. We make no stand 'gainst thy family, 'tis not place of government to intervene in most cases. Most.”

“Ah, ah really must say ah'm not sure whatcher getting' at...” Granny Smith stammered.

“Braeburn Apple.” The name dropped like a lead weight from Luna's lips. The lack of Royal Canterlot voice seemed far more impactful, with the cold, hard statement of the name as opposed to an active and energetic yell.

Granny Smith winced, the name like a punch in the gut. Still she tried to maintain her mild innocence. “Yes. He's mah kin. Manages the orchard out in Appleoosa. That's a very important job ya know. Wouldn't give the job ta just any of mah grandchildren.”

Luna had Granny Smith right where she wanted her. All that remained was so slice her throat with with the deft coup de patte. “Little Strongheart. Apple.” Luna was careful to leave the audible gap between name and family name, and to emphasize the last name all the harder.

Granny Smith choked, trying to gasp and silence herself at the same time. “She's mah... granddaughter. Braeburn's wife.”

“Two may keep intelligence if one be buried,” Luna reiterated, looking down on Granny Smith with cold eyes. “The secrets of thy family be thine own. Live with them in thy breast. May they decay. No part of this Principality be beyond our ken. Least of all one so near. Should kin or kith or, in time, kin-by-law be found wanting even a single crumb of love or warmth or even material goods as food or bed, thou wilt find that the Palace may be most tempting. I believe there be fund to allow that Prince Blueblood have a page, and surely Princess Connie would do well with a lady-in-waiting. In the face of hate, how could any liberal offer be refused?”

None defied Eugenia Smith-Apple. None dared sass, threaten or berate her. But Luna had. And Luna could. All Granny Smith could do was stretch her saccharine smile and take it. “Ah am sure ah don't know what ya mean by all that, your majesty. Ah'm jes a simple, country mare who loves her family. All of it.”

“All of it?” Luna's tone could have frozen even a Windigo's icy blood.

Granny Smith forced out the three syllables, though she wanted nothing more than to scream for respect. “All. Of. It.”

“Very good. We must say our farewells and depart. Good day, Madame Smith-Apple,” Luna placed a hoof on the seat that had been offered to her and swept lightly across it. With that she turned and trotted out, ethereal tail high.

Granny Smith was left panting, slumping down in her seat. The encounter had been emotionally exhausting. She sure knew the score. Oh she was upset. Her own eldest grandson, traipsing off across the world with a lifeless doll and coming back practically hitched to a markless knob-knee. But Princess Luna could not have been clearer. If she even implied her feelings those two would be offered a big bag of bits and the easy life in Canterlot. She'd run off another relative, but they would come out all the better for it. That was not how her will was supposed to work.

After a bit of rest she hauled her old bones up and went to look at the seat she had offered to Princess Luna. What she found chilled her right to the core once again. Three cards laid out on the seat. The queen of spades, the jack of spades and the queen of diamonds. But the queen of diamonds had been nearly completely blacked out, leaving only the symbols to tell what it was. She flipped the queen of diamonds to hide it from her view and got her second shock.

Written in a flowing, ornate script on the back, using black ink edged in gold leaf was the word, 'Know.' She didn't want to know. Yet she did. She turned the other two. Beneath the queen of spades was the word, 'We.' Beneath the jack of spades were two words, 'Will Always.'

The Gentle Giant

Big Macintosh carefully folded the blanket up into his collar and used it as a kind of step, allowing Smarty-Pants to stand up and look out of it. After ensuring she was well-situated he looked around the bland, gem-studded passage. “Ya ain't wrong 'bout how confusin' it is that ah can't see what's next.”

“The surprise is half the point. If you don't know you can never prepare. And as I said, if you have not the love and stability within you you will will never succeed, no matter how prepared you think yourself for whatever challenge you may believe stands before you.”

Big Mac set off into the indistinct distance, much more aware that the very angles were skewed and that he was actually moving up and around. Just thinking about that was unusual. He made every effort to try and feel the curve of his passage or the angle of the ground beneath his hooves. Even with the passive detection from his earth pony magic he felt nothing unusual. As far as he knew he was trotting along on a flat surface straight on towards the far end of the cavern.

The wall was close to his right side, studded with the large, magically-infused crystals that provided the light of the cavern. One of the crystals glowed brighter than the others, swirling with a milky haze. The haze slowly cleared to reveal an image of his sister Applejack snuggled up with Rainbow Dash on a cloud slightly to the side and down from Dash's rainbow waterfall. The two were looking quite pleased, softly kissing and nibbling on each other's necks, hooves drifting mostly-chastely over their bodies.

“I see your attention drift away from the path.” Argus broke Big Mac's concentration. “What do you see? This magic is not for my eyes any longer. It was already spent.”

“Ah see mah bigger lil sister an' her fiancee neckin' an' huggin' on one another.” He gave a huge shrug and walked on, noting the image following him to passing crystals. “Ain't nothin' surprising. Always knew they was doin' that.”

“Is that the one? The one who is betrothed to a zebra?” Argus peered into the passing crystals, as if desperately trying to see what was not for him.

“Nah. Applebloom's too young fer that kinda thing. She an' Zecora go out to the fair 'r spend th' day in, mixin' up brews an' such things. But Granny's got 'em courtin' right, like...” Big mac's attention was drawn aside again. A second crystal had flashed. Now besides being shown AJ and Dash, he suddenly saw Applebloom and Zecora. The two were in Zecora's hut, beside a crackling fire. Both were cuddled up close, yet in an innocent fashion. The curled-up filly was pressed in as close as possible to Zecora's belly, while the zebra mare read to her from an old-looking book, the visible page looking like the ancient pre-banishment illustrated and calligraphic manuscripts. “They look like they's already hitched...”

“And you have no objection to this union? Your family has no objection to this?”

“Granny's anglin' ta get Zecora ta put a ring on her leg jes ta make it all nice an' official. Mah other sis can't wait ta have her as a sister, an' ah find she makes mah littlest sis happy. Ain't nothin' more important than that. Ah thought that y'all from olden times weren't none too against the courtin'-a younger folks an' the folk a mite bit older.”

“You don't even see her stripes, do you?” Argus snorted softly and shook his head. “We were born in the wrong place and the wrong time.”

Before Big Mac could comment on that another crystal came to life, adding to the images. The new scene was Applebloom's fellow Crusaders Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, with Sweetie singing and Scootaloo looking moved and delighted. “These things plannin' on followin' me along?”

“They followed Bee and myself. You think you can stop seeing them; after all, you don't have to hear them. But you see them. You never stop seeing them. I can only imagine what you will find in them. As I said, my eyes are not for the crystals any longer.”

“Ah told ya. Ah'm seein' mah sisters. An' now lil Applebloom's friends. Ain't right, me seein' them like that. That there is their private singin' and wooin'.”

“You are no real youth, in the scheme of things. You may see intimacy you would rather not see.” Argus laughed softly and shook his head. “If only memories would fade away...”

Big Mac looked between the three scenes and on to a fourth, his sister's friend Rarity fluffing a rather large dress on Fluttershy. As big and uncomfortable of a blush as the pegasus was showing, she still looked just as happy as the unicorn. A fifth came up, that of Twilight Sparkle gently rolling dough with her hooves, assisted by Pinkie Pie, the earth pony intimately pressed against the unicorn's back, head beside hers, both sets of hooves pressing almost the same part of the dough. “Ain't it enough they was tryin' ta make me crazy in that maze?”

“This is no illusion. This is the reality. They are not all doing this at this moment, whatever that may mean here. But they have done all this. It is all true and real. And you must see it. The world will not let you ignore it. How happy are you with her? Maybe there were other paths untrotted. Other loves in easier reach.”

The sixth scene was no surprise given the lead-in from Argus. Cheerilee. She was snuggled up tight against her wife, the unicorn Toola Roola. He had seen them around Ponyville, whenever they were away from her chateau. A chateau. Could he have even offered half as... “You ever felt mad at yerself 'cause ya can't be mad at the world that ain't bein' kind to ya?”

“Bee hated what she felt when she looked in the crystals. Not the regrets. She never regretted. The rage, burning deep in her heart, her horn flashing to try and break the idiotic things. But I know it, you think things. About yourself. And then you realize what you have been thinking hurts you, and is directed to those beside the beautiful mare at your side. Can you trot through your own self-hate?”

Other mares showed up in the crystals, all the Ponyville mares that Big Mac knew, the ones with whom he had grown up. His small crushes and modest loves, all of them never manifested. All of them were so happy with the mares and stallions they had chosen. As he looked, he felt Smarty-Pants shift in his collar and he smiled. They were so happy. And so was he. Just beyond, he would find an even greater happiness, when the one he loved could speak and move, with no fear of dropping down before her time. “Ain't it a beautiful sight?”

“I find your maturity refreshing. You pass these crystals with hardly a notice. Have you really come to terms with your relationship?”

“It ain't hard ta do. Ah spent one night with her, an' a day ta get to know her. She was everythin' ah could ever want an' more. She's smart, she's funny, she loves the hay outta me an' ah ain't sure why... she's the best ah could ever hope fer. Now we got us a chance ta be together. Ah can be happy as alla them.”

“See if you can keep that attitude with you. It will surely aid you.” The passage the walked began to narrow, walls pressing in incrementally until all that remained was a single-file space with Big Mac on point. Appearing before them was a section of ground covered in row on row of eggs. “Expressions can become distressingly literal here, as you can see.”

Big Mac placidly regarded the path of eggs, slowly nodding his huge head, gently probing at one of the eggs with a hoof. “This s'pposed ta be impossible fer a heavy pony like me, 'r is there some magic that keeps me from wreckin' all this?”

“How much rage do you carry in your heart?” Argus held up an egg and presented it to Big Mac. “Hold this in your teeth. And then walk. You will not harm those eggs so long as you are careful. They are not as fragile as you might expect but they will break all the same.”

“Seems simple enough. Means it ain't gonna be nothin' of the sort.” Big Mac took the egg in his teeth and gingerly began his journey across the expanse of the eggs. The shells felt fairly solid beneath his hooves, even as he put different amounts of weight on their surfaces through the action of his walking, careful as it was.

The crystals on the wall, which had been blank and silent burst to life with a sudden volume and brightness. In each one were the faces and voices of ponies he knew and those he had never seen. The angry faces and voices pressed in from every angle, kith, kin and total strangers subjected him to abuse of all classes.

“How can you possibly feel anything for a ratty little scrap of cloth?! She's just some foolish filly's toy!” The shade of Rarity screamed out in her cultured tones.

“She was my Smarty-Pants doll! You had no right to her! It was a mistake that you ever met her! You were never meant to be together!” Twilight's image almost seemed to pound the confined of the crystal, her eyes narrow and hard.

“Ya think this family's gonna let ya back into the homestead? Not on yer life, mister! Not if yer gonna come by haulin' that there tangle-a blanket scraps and callin' it yer wife we ain't!” His older younger sister released her best anger onto him, in fine form to say the least, even if it was only an illusion.

“We did not anticipate thy success! Thou wast meant to fail and return chastised! Thou hast not the strength to trot the path and we always knew!” Luna's image stood imperiously and hit him with the full fury of her formal voice.

His teeth tightened on the egg, just slightly. He could practically hear the shell beginning to buckle under his slight change in strength. Beneath his hooves the eggs started to feel like the weak little things they were. No grown stallion could really walk on such a path and actually make it, no matter how careful. He didn't even really want to be so careful. He wanted it to be over already. He wanted to run through the passage to stop the lies and insults. Lies. Insults...

The imitation images weren't really his family and friends. It wasn't like the images of them being happy. It was the mirror maze again. Just their images worn like a disguise over a screaming challenge to his dedication. The insults were harsh, but he couldn't take them seriously. He knew what he felt in his heart for miss Smarty-Pants, and he knew what his real friends thought of it, those that knew. Twilight wanted only the best for him, and Princess Luna had personally seen to it that he could have his happy ending. The images were slanderous lies towards the ones supposedly speaking them. Lies put in mouths that should not have been saying things like that.

The path of eggs ended long before he realized it had. He had been trotting along on solid stone for a while, the screaming crystals well behind him, the cavern having opened up considerably. He found Argus there, waiting for him, the old zebra holding his hoof out for the egg in his teeth. “It is rather hard being the sensible one, is it not? I can only wonder the vile things that passed you on the path.”

“It ain't no thing, sir. T'weren't none-a it true. But them words was still cuttin' like knives. Ah'm real sorry fer you 'n' yer bride, havin' ta take a trot along that there path. Ah know what them old folks could say 'bout zebras.”

“To know and to feel is different... but thank you, young one. And what the old zebras could say to ponies was hardly any more kind. But I suppose it is all over in your world outside this place.”

“Maybe it is, maybe it ain't. Zecora weren't none too liked when first she met Ponyville. Then mah sis made a friend outta her. Nopony's got boo ta say against her anymore. They's jes waitin' fer th' nuptuals so's they can get their hooves on some fine vittles an' see 'em both in pretty dresses.”

“A whole town more concerned with wedding food and pretty attire than with the stripes across her back and the lack of them on her betrothed. A whole town.” Argus struck his stick down on the ground and shook his bearded head. “Don't tell me if there are more towns like that. I don't want to know. I don't think I could handle knowing if it is just one or if it is all. Let us move on. You are so close you can only imagine how much harder it will truly become before you reach the end...”