The World Turned Upside Down

This time, I was able to sleep without interruption — no dream, but no white flash, ringing ears or sharp pain through my body either — and that was a welcome change. Why my little condition had decided to clear up now, I don’t know, but I’m not complaining: if not rejuvenated, I feel refreshed, like some strange weight had been taken off my mind. I’ll probably need more than just a few hours’ rest, and on something comfier than a wooden bench with a rolled-up camping blanket for a pillow, but it’ll do. I usually have a hard time going back to sleep anyway, last night notwithstanding.

I open my eyes to find myself lying in an odd position — one that isn’t healthy for my neck and will probably take half the day to straighten out — and the sun not yet risen. Beyond the window, however, the sky is brightening from black to grey to pink with remarkable speed… but I suppose that’s a given when the sun here only takes an hour to reach its peak. If what Amber said is true — and I have no reason to doubt her at this point — that means I’ve woken close to my usual time of six o’clock.

I crack a smile; at least jumping dimensions hasn’t left me jetlagged.

But there remains the question of what I’m supposed to do today, and I’m not going to bore myself to tears as I wait around for Amber to wake up and assign me some chores. I don’t want to risk upsetting her any more than I already have, but she hasn’t told me to stay put, and the only place I’m not supposed to go is her room.

I could, perhaps, hobble over to the pantry and see just how well stocked this place is. I could head out to the timber shed and try to piece together what happened yesterday. I could stay right here and ponder the meaning of life and finally conclude that forty-two is, indeed, the only logical outcome.

Or, now that I’m paying more attention to myself, I could take the opportunity and change in complete privacy. Aside from the obvious dirt and damage, my shirt, pants and underwear have that icky, sweaty feeling to them, like they’re damp without being wet. I’m also sure they’d smell pretty bad to anyone who isn’t wearing them. Or anyone else, period. I can’t judge because I have a terrible sense of hygiene — my breath never stinks to me, it just smells warm.

Speaking of which, I wonder how long it’ll be before I can brush my teeth again, or use one of those minty mouthwashes that I’ve never been brave enough to try.

With a pained groan, I lift myself up and twist my head as far as I can in the opposite direction, and, disappointingly, find no release. Even when I put my hand to my neck for support and stretch to the extremes, nothing — it’s the muscles, not the joints, and I’m no masseur. So, I try to ignore the aching in my nape and pull my bag closer, then unzip the main pocket and sift through the contents for a new set of clothes.

When I find my quarry, I push off of the bench, and immediately grunt and recoil when my jaw reminds me that clenching my teeth isn’t the best idea. Instead, I slide off the edge onto my hands and good knee and hoist myself up from there.

I decide that changing in Amber’s living room wouldn’t be the best idea, or anywhere in her house for that matter; if she came through and caught me half-dressed, she’d probably rant about how I was intruding on her personal space, or something.

Come to think of it, that isn’t too far off from what I feel — and I’ve never been comfortable doing things in other people’s homes that I’d normally do in my own. Even harmless things, like making breakfast. It’s like I’m trespassing on private property, no matter how many times I’m told otherwise.

I stretch my neck again and, when that doesn’t work, my back, then limp through the archway and unlatch the door to the outside. And when I open it, I step out onto the grass, still barefoot, and close my eyes and reach for the sky with a long, loud yawn.

“You’re up early.”

My yawn cuts itself short and I turn my attention down the slope, shielding my eyes from the glare of the rising sun.

Walking towards me, with practiced poise and hair made of midnight, is a familiar face. Against the vibrant colours of the morning, her mane and tail appear even more awe-inspiring, though they no longer sway in their ethereal wind, but are instead bound in hairnets of golden silk. In place of her collar is a sleeveless tunic; dove blue, hemmed in gilt thread and tied around her waist by a crimson sash. Her crown and slippers are almost identical to the ones she wore before, but now they too are golden, matching the rest of her garb.

And as the light of the sun shines brightly behind her, glinting off the many shiny surfaces, and her small, honest, almost motherly smile becomes clearer and clearer, I am spellbound.

Now I can take her seriously. Now I can see her as a princess.

“Is something wrong?” she asks, stopping as her smile wanes.

I realise I’ve been staring with an open mouth. Not in the exaggerated jaw-to-the-floor kind of way — which I’ve never seen anyone use outside of television — but in genuine amazement. I blink and quickly shake my head. “No, no, nothing, it’s just…”

“Just…?”

“…I forgot you were real.”

Selene pauses for a moment, and then her grin returns. “She hits hard, doesn’t she?”

I nod, “You can say that again,” then remember the bundle of clothes under my arm. “Sorry, I came out here to change.”

“Oh.” She glances away. “Would you like some privacy?”

“…Well, if you want to talk now, I guess it could wait.” I gesture to the bigger of the two major tears. “So long as you don’t mind these.”

“No, no, it can wait, it can wait,” she says, bowing her head slightly and taking a step back. “I dressed for the occasion — it’s only fair you do too.”

“…I’m… not that special, your Highness.”

“On the contrary, Mister Mackenna. May I call you Mister Mackenna?”

“Adam’s fine.”

She pauses again, then nods. “Then call me Selene.”

“…Are you sure?”

“Adam, please,” she smirks, “I always know what I want. And as for your… specialness… I’ll explain more when Trail Blazer wakes up, but please, don’t sell yourself short.”

“…If you say so.”

“I do,” she insists, perhaps a little too firmly for her liking, because she closes her eyes for a moment and lightly shakes her head. “Never mind. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Briefly. I need to make sure I’m not missed.”

“Oh. Okay then, I’ll… see you soon, I guess.”

“Just a minute,” she assures, and disappears in a flash.

I blink at the empty space. One second, she was there, the next, she wasn’t, and the only proof fades away with the motes of sparkling dust. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that, but I can’t let it distract me; I only have a minute, and I get the feeling she likes being punctual.

I change as fast as I can, glancing around and hoping there are no passers-by to see me — not that there would be in a place so remote. When I finish, I’m left wondering what to do with my dirty laundry, but the solution soon comes to me and I quickly, quietly duck back into the cottage and stuff the old clothes in my bag. It won’t be hard telling them from the clean ones.

So, limping outside again, I sit on the grass and wait. And wait. And wait. And a minute stretches into five. Then six. Then ten. And I can’t help but think for a split second that, maybe, I’d imagined it all — that this was the next big leap in the cruel game of my disorder. First headaches, then a coma, sleep paralysis, vertigo, more headaches, possibly a little hysteria, another coma, some minor amnesia, and now hallucinations of the most disconcertingly real kind.

Or perhaps I never saw her. But then that doesn’t make sense, because Amber said she was real. Unless I imagined that too.

…The rabbit hole deepens…

Another flash brings me back.

“Sorry about that,” Selene calls, strolling forward and sitting in front of me. “Something came up.”

“What was it?”

She waves a hoof airily. “Oh, just a meeting I had to push back.”

“With who?”

“An envoy from Griffonstone. Don’t worry, I’m not missing anything important.”

Griffonstone. Equestria. Yakyakistan. The Land of the Hippogriffs. There’s a pattern here — one I should’ve seen before and I’m not too surprised to see it now. “That sounds pretty important,” I say, keeping an even tone.

“Well, it is, but…” she trails off, staring at some invisible point between us. And as she blows a gentle sigh, I notice her demeanour change. “To be frank, it’s a rather pointless summit — a glorified tea party, if you will. It’s tradition, though… but I consider myself a pragmatist.”

“…So, you’d rather be out here… than doing work? Isn’t that a little…”

“Irresponsible?”

I close my mouth.

“Perhaps,” she concedes, calm and cool as ever. “To the griffons, at least. But believe me, Adam, I can do more for my kingdom by meeting you than hosting breakfast on time.”

I faintly frown. “How so?”

“I’ll explain everything when Trail Blazer wakes up,” she eases, though her face grows solemn and her ears lower slightly. “Not that I mean to sound dramatic, but this concerns both of you. Speaking of drama… I need to apologise for the other night. When we first met.”

“What for?”

She sighs again, letting her gaze fall to the ground, and looking uncharacteristically humble. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. It’s just… for most of our last meeting, as far as I remember, she’d projected an image of tempered authority: neither too uptight nor too lax. Now, despite appearances — as far as a pale pink horse in a fancy frock goes in the way of appearances — I don’t get the same feeling. What this new feeling is, I don’t know. Suspicion, maybe, but… she seems genuine enough.

“I wasn’t fair on you,” she says quietly. Ruefully. “I was protective. Too protective. Too forceful, rather. Without good reason. Trust… doesn’t come easily to me, and… I’ll admit, there’s a part of me that still doesn’t. Trust you, that is. But that’s my problem, not yours. And you’ve proven yourself to be a… dependable… intuitive… human. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

“…What do you mean ‘dependable’?”

She gives me a strange look. “You mean you don’t remember?”

“Remember what?”

“You agreed… No. I told you to protect Trail Blazer.”

I pause, frowning at myself, and, suddenly, the details come flooding back. The chill in the air. The ice-cream in the goblet. The promise in the dark. And with those details comes a stark realisation: I’d failed. I’d been given a job and I’d failed. Spectacularly. Horrifically. Atrociously. And someone had been hurt because of it. Because of me. Because of my… weakness…

“Adam.”

I look up.

Selene watches me with sympathy in her eyes. Undeserved sympathy, as far as I’m concerned. “You did what you could.”

“It wasn’t enough.”

“It was all I could ask for.”

“But it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t—”

“The blame is mine, Adam.”

I blink, confused.

“I told you to protect her, but I never told you how. And I should’ve — I knew what you were up against. But I didn’t. I was negligent. I’m sorry for that too.”

“You’re not angry?”

“I’m disappointed, Adam. In myself. I should’ve known better.” She grins faintly. “But where others would’ve folded… you persevered. You saved the day, as it were.”

“…I just… got lucky.”

“Perhaps. But I like to think there’s more to it than luck.”

“Like what?”

Her grin widens, but only just, and she looks up to the sky in thought. “Do you believe in destiny, Adam?”

Something deep inside me switches off and urges the rest of my attention to do the same. “Not really,” I answer flatly.

“Neither do I.”

My brows crease in surprise.

She looks back to me, markedly more regal than before. “My family, though, always enjoyed the idea of destiny — how things always seem to fit together in some grand, unknowable scheme. Where this scheme would take us, and to what end it serves, who could say?

“Except, as it turned out… one of my aunts always knew. And when her most faithful, most beloved student realised that a destiny is something we choose for ourselves… she forced her vision of greatness upon her. And this protégé — this star pupil — who was otherwise one of the most intelligent people in all Equestria… blindly agreed. Because, of course, how could her mentor ever be wrong? And what kind of student would she be if she didn’t accept her teacher’s wisdom?”

“…I see…”

“Needless to say, destiny, as a concept, hasn’t sat well with me for a long time now. It fosters apathy with failure. It stagnates progress to all but the daring few. And while I can praise my forebears for many, many things, innovation is not one of them.

“However, I believe that we are all born with certain natural gifts. Yours, Adam, I believe, is empathy. Or in the words of my predecessors… kindness. I know it isn’t your only trait, nor do I expect you to live up to her standards, but… yours is a rare kind of empathy — one that compels you to do the right thing, in spite of all the wrong done to you. There are very few people who can claim to be so virtuous. Even me.”

“You?”

“Yes.” She drifts off into a long pause, the air around her growing coy and gloomy. “I have, at times… done things I’m not ashamed to have done, but… not proud to have done either. I’ve been impulsive. Brash. To my chagrin… vindictive. I still am, in some respects. I try not to be, but… old habits… never really go away, do they?”

“They can.”

She looks at me again and raises an eyebrow.

“Sometimes.”

“You speak from experience?”

I slowly shrug. “More or less.”

She waits a little while longer, and then her smile returns. Small, but warm, humble and honest. “Then I have much to learn from you, it seems.”

“I’m… not a tutor, your Highness.”

“I don’t expect you to be,” she answers coolly. “It’s an expression. A mark of respect. And speaking of respect, it’s Selene, if you remember.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, Selene.”

“It’s alright, it’s alright. I just… need to forget who I am, sometimes.”

“What do you mean?”

She looks to the grass again and sighs. “Friends… True friends… are few and far between in my profession. To be honest, this has been the first real conversation I’ve had in a long, long while. But you aren’t like the members of my court, or the ambassadors I deal with, or the people I serve; you are… ignorant.”

“Ignorant?”

“I mean that in the nicest way possible; you’re uninformed. If I were to set foot outside the palace — travel anywhere I so desired, within Equestria or without — I would be feared, revered, or, in a few cases… despised. But you don’t know me, do you? To you… I am nothing more than a winged unicorn with a funny name.”

“And magic.”

“And magic.” She chuckles. “It’s an… unusual perspective, I’ll admit… but a refreshing one.”

I humour her with an earnest smile, then wait for the air between us to fade. “But you’re not just here to chat, are you?”

Her grin fades with mine. “No,” she replies, in a tone that says I won’t like the whole answer, “I suppose I’m not.”

A familiar feeling sweeps over me.

A horrible feeling.

A dejected feeling.

One that leaves me not bitter, or resentful… but hopeless.

Completely and utterly hopeless.

“Ah, Trail Blazer. Good morning.”

I lift my head and look over my shoulder to find Amber standing stock-still in the cottage entrance, staring at Selene with wide eyes, shrunken pupils, folded ears and a gaping mouth. From this distance, I can’t hear anything from her, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s making a sound like a boiling teakettle. I’d laugh if I weren’t so glum.

“Come, sit,” the princess bids with a smile, gesturing to the ground beside me. “There’s something we need to discuss. All of us.”

Amber blinks herself out of her trance and shuts her mouth, then steps out of the house and bows nervously.

“Trail Blazer, please, let’s not stand on ceremony. Not here, not with me. Not with what I have to say.”

Slowly, cautiously, Amber rises and shuffles closer, her eyes on the grass in front of her.

I glance at Selene.

She glances back, sharing a look of discomfort.

Amber sits on her haunches about three long strides away from either of us, keeping her head low and ears down. I can’t tell if she’s scared, anxious, or merely in shock, but I hope it’s the latter — I don’t want to have a genuine reason to fear this realm’s head of state, besides the fact she knows things only Amber should.

“Would either of you like some breakfast?”

“Yes please,” I say.

Selene turns to Amber. “And you, Trail Blazer?”

She hesitates, but glances up and stiffly nods.

Three more flashes of gold are replaced by three white bowls. They’re ceramic — professional; with blue figures of… ponies… winged, horned and plain… in tunics, togas, headbands and hairnets… some with laurel crowns… bordered by finely detailed geometric patterns. Like the pottery of Ancient Greece. They’re glazed too, lustrous in the light of the sun. Mine is the only one with a spoon. Thankfully, though, it’s far more practical than the last one I used.

I place the bowl in my lap and bring the spoon to my lips, and I’m rewarded with the pulpy, savoury goodness of pumpkin soup. No chewing required. Just what the doctor ordered. “Compliments to the chef,” I say, with enough vigour to surprise myself.

“As always,” Selene hums, using her magic in place of her forelegs.

Amber looks up with a face of perturbed curiosity and glances between us, but sips her breakfast without a word.

Selene sets down her bowl and wipes her mouth with a napkin I hadn’t noticed, also floating in a telekinetic field. “Before we begin, for the sake of transparency, I’d like to say that, yes, Trail Blazer, Adam and I have met before, but only once. What was said is not important, but I ordered him to keep you safe.”

Amber looks up again, focussing on the princess at first, then on me, brows creasing, lips parting, a hurt look in her eyes.

“He didn’t tell you because I told him not to.”

She turns back to Selene.

“I’m sorry if that makes you feel used, Trail Blazer, but it was a test, and he passed. Besides, can you honestly tell me that you would’ve believed him? And if he persisted, I can only imagine you doing a lot worse to him than chipping a tooth.”

She shuts her mouth and looks down in shame.

“Now, to business,” Selene continues in a very stately manner. “After skimming through my personal archives in Canterlot, I’ve yet to find mention of any ‘humans’ in Equestria, or a similar creature by another name. The closest I could find were the cats of Abyssinia, but they stand on their toes and are more… feline. This isn’t exactly news, but if nothing else, it proves that humans are a rare sight, if they’ve been seen at all.

“That being said, however improbable this theory of an alter-Earth may be, recent events have made me… reassess things.” She gives me a knowing look. “I’m not entirely convinced that you aren’t from this world, Adam, but I can’t deny that you are… different. In many ways. Not least of which is your resistance to magic.”

“…My—”

“Resistance,” she repeats. “Not immunity: resistance. Else all the ‘Medusa-chicken’ would’ve given you is a few bites and scratches, not a coma and memory loss.”

“…That was the cockatrice?”

“In all likeliness, yes. And I say again: resistance. With the cockatrice, at least. And hooves. Other forms of magic, I’m not sure of. Not since we last met.”

“You mean… with the spoon, right?”

“Not just the spoon,” she says, easing up on her commanding tone. “Do you remember having a sudden bout of nausea before I arrived?”

“…Yes?”

“…That was me.” She lowers her gaze and sighs. “I was trying to teleport you. I had a feeling it wouldn’t work, but… like the arrogant fool I am… I tried anyway. It was… wrong, and… wrong. And I’m sorry. Again.”

I stare at her blankly. Or rather, I stare at her in muted shock, but I don’t feel it myself. She must have caught me off-guard, because I never expected her to do something like that, but at the same time… I never expected to feel so neutral about it. Maybe I just need time to process it. This was, after all, her third confession for the day. “Apology accepted,” I say cagily.

She bows her head and returns her eyes to mine. “Thank you, Adam. But if it isn’t too much to ask, or too soon… I’d like conduct another test. A little one. Nothing dangerous; just a simple levitation spell — something I and many other ponies use every day.”

“…And what will this levitation spell do, exactly?”

“I’ll be focussing it on your hand. If all goes well, it should float.”

“If all goes well?”

“Nothing bad will happen, Adam. Trust me.”

I hesitate, examining her horn with a wary eye — how it spirals like a narwhal’s tusk, almost as long as my whole arm, ending in a pointy, if blunt, tip. My attention then turns to my hand, and I can’t help remembering Amber’s words from last night, about losing my fingers. “Will it hurt?” I ask, looking up.

“A pinch at worst.”

“That’s what a doctor says right before they jab you.”

She smirks. “This won’t be anything like that. So, may I?”

Again, I hesitate, dropping the spoon and staring at my palm, what little good that does me. “Just a pinch?”

“Just a pinch.”

“…Fine,” I yield after a long pause, then hold up my other hand, “but use this one instead.”

“The weaker, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah.”

Her amusement becomes admiration, and she nods. “Good thinking. Unnecessary, but better safe than sorry.”

“Just get it over with,” I grumble, but catch myself as soon as I remember who I’m talking to. “Sorry. I mean… if we could please do this before I start thinking about it… that’d be great. Your Highness.”

Her expression never wavers. “Stay loose.” The aura builds around her horn once more. “If you feel anything, say so, but try not to move.”

I set my bowl aside and rest my arms in my lap, then relax myself as much possible and close my eyes. I nod, then immediately hear the soft, otherworldly hiss of magic, and feel the unnerving sensation of a sudden, unprovoked attack of pins and needles. That by itself wouldn’t have been so bad, if it weren’t for the fact that it felt like there were literal pins and needles under my skin.

“Keep it loose, please.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Then do it.”

I grimace in a mixture of pain and frustration as I lock my jaw, clench a fist and tense every joint that isn’t the affected hand. The longer I stay like this, the deeper the prickling goes. But I won’t look — the second I do, I’ll lose my nerve. Or what little I have of it at the moment. I breathe heavily and shudder and raise my fist like I’m about to hit something.

“Relax, Adam.”

“I can’t, Selene! It’s like your turning it inside out!”

“I’m not.”

“That’s what it feels like!”

“Shall I stop?”

“Please!”

“Look at it first.”

Already at wit’s end, I open my eyes, and I’m almost blinded by a sharp intake of light, partly because they’d been shut so hard for so long, but mostly because the sun is staring right at me.

Except… it’s not the sun: it’s my hand, encased in layer upon layer of glow and overglow, with an aura just as large coming from Selene’s horn.

I scream and scramble to my feet, then hunch over and limp in circles as the brightness dissipates and the tingling ebbs away, holding my hand to my stomach as I massage it has hard as I can. After a few seconds, I regain enough control to turn back to the princess and fix her with a horrified glare. “Damn it, Selene, what the hell was that?!”

“That was enough magic to raise the moon.”

“…The… What?!”

Her expression is serious, but her tone is calm and collected, “I am an alicorn, Adam. I raise the moon, I set the moon. That is my role as Princess of the Night.”

I stare at her dumbly, lost for words… and then feel terribly faint and stagger back a step, then two, and then stumble and fall on my rear.

This is what catches me off-guard? This is what shocks me? Why? And the worst part is that I knew something like this was coming — you only get sworn upon if you’re more than just royalty. Still, it rattles me, and considering that magic exists here, I don’t think she means ‘raising the moon’ in the figurative sense like the pharaohs did with the sun.

No, this is real. She dictates night and day. And all that energy… all that raw power… had tried to lift my hand and failed.

I lie back, closing my eyes again as I take a number of long, deep, ragged breaths, trying to keep my head from spinning. “This is insane,” I croak.

“Nothing is insane, Adam. We merely lack the will or the patience to understand.”

“No, I understand perfectly. It’s just…”

“You need time?”

“Yeah.”

“I see. But time is not a luxury I have, unfortunately.”

Reluctantly, I sit up and look at her.

“If I take too long, my staff and my guests will grow suspicious, and questions will be asked — questions I’d rather not answer. I don’t know where you came from, Adam, or how you got here, or why you are the way you are, and until I can answer those questions for myself, I won’t leave it up to public speculation. Because, as it stands right now, you are both a national threat and a potential asset, and I won’t let an opportunity like this go to waste.”

“…What kind of opportunity?”

“There’s a game I’ve been playing for close to twenty years now,” she says dourly. “A dangerous game. A shadowy game. And for all this time, it has ended in stalemate. You are the piece that can tip the balance in my favour.”

“…And how would I do that?”

“By being you.”

“…I don’t follow.”

“My opponent is a disgruntled noble who goes by the name Firebrand. Despite her humble beginnings, she’s an adept user of magic — enough to rival me — and has decided to make use of her talents by sowing discontent among my citizens, because she believes that my claim to the throne is illegitimate, and who else can take my place but her?”

“…Why would she say that?”

“Because I was not the intended ruler of Equestria, nor was it my intent. It was a matter of circumstance — cause and effect — and, naturally, people are rarely comfortable with chance controlling their lives. So, by a small faction of dissidents… I was called a pretender. They have waxed and waned, come and gone, but Firebrand has always stood firm. She has been a thorn in my side for too long, Adam. It’s time to snuff her out.”

My insides sink. “…What do you want me to do, exactly?”

“Find her.”

“…And…?”

She pauses, my question hitting a tender nerve. “I won’t ask you to be something you’re not,” she sombrely assures. “Believe me… I know regret all too well… But her attempts at spreading disharmony can’t be ignored. I’m tired of having to prove myself to my own country time and again. The cycle must end.”

“Can’t you send someone else?”

“No. Her hiding place is deep in the Griffon Kingdoms, and I’ve reason to believe they are, if not in league with her, then at least condoning her actions. It doesn’t matter if I were to send a hundred spies or one; the diplomatic aftermath would be catastrophic. And even if they did find her, she would overpower them as easily Trail Blazer did you. I need plausible deniability — someone who is neither an Equestrian citizen nor has any known links to me. And is resistant to magic, should worst come to worst.”

“…And if I find her… what will you do?”

“What I must.”

“That’s a little vague.”

“I’m sorry, Adam,” she sighs, “but I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep. But if it’s any consolation… when this is all over… if you truly come from a world beyond this one… I can promise you my full support in finding a way back home.”

My eyes widen.

“Does that pique your interest?”

I can’t deny that it does. Still, watching movies and TV shows about dynastic intrigue was one thing; actually taking part was quite another. And the idea that I’d be an accessory to… whatever Selene had planned for this ‘Firebrand’ character…

But if it’s my only hope of getting home…

“…I’m not sure…”

Slowly, she nods, then closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in… then out… and then looks at me again. “Then let me put it this way,” she asserts, but not unkindly, “unless you’re willing to spend your whole life alone, the spotlight will shine on you eventually. And when that happens, I think you’d find it very beneficial to have friends in high places. I can’t guarantee that protection if I have to pretend that I don’t know you.”

That doesn’t make things any better, it just whittles my options down to a lonely two: accept and be granted the support of the monarchy, or refuse and trust I’ll be able to handle things on my own. Without a hand… or hoof… to guide me. “She’s… a bad person, right?”

“There have been worse in our history. Much worse. But she’s a menace all the same."

“…You’re not making this easy for me, Selene.”

“It isn’t meant to be. This would be a tough choice for anyone — even me, if I were in your place. But you’d be saving my kingdom from decades of hardship if you agree. And for that, I’ll forever be in your debt.”

I hang my head into my palms. That put things in perspective — it isn’t just the princess; it’s an entire nation that I risk letting down, whether they know it or not.

This is too much. Too much for me to handle. Way too much responsibility.

…But it’s the only way…

And the needs of the many… as much as I hate to admit it… outweigh the needs of the few.

“…Fine,” I murmur. “On one condition.”

The princess smiles.

“I get to call in a favour of my own.”

“And what would that be?”

“I don’t know. But you said you’d be in my debt forever, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then… if I call this favour in… consider that debt repaid.”

She raises her brows. “Well then,” she chirps, “how could I refuse?”

Her enthusiasm, for some reason, makes me feel even worse.

“So, we have an agreement?”

“Yeah.” I fold my arms grudgingly. “I still don’t like it, though.”

“I don’t expect you to. This will be a long journey and a hard one. But with my help, and the same level of perseverance I’ve seen from you until now, I’m confident you can do this. Especially with Trail Blazer by your side.”

Amber chokes on her soup.

I’d be inclined to do the same if I still had mine.

She recovers from a coughing fit and stares at Selene with a mixture of feelings. Bewilderment, betrayal, outrage, confusion and fear are the most obvious.

“This isn’t negotiable,” the princess declares, frowning back at her. “I need somepony to watch over him when I’m not around. This pony, like him, can’t be connected to me. That leaves you, Trail Blazer. And despite your shortcomings, you’ve proven yourself to be a very strong, very resourceful individual, and those talents will be sorely needed in the days to come. Besides, whether you want to admit it or not, you owe him and you know it.”

Cowed, Amber looks down at the grass again.

“Having personal boundaries is fine, Trail Blazer, but setting rules that practically beg for failure is below you. And no matter how annoying he may seem to you, that doesn’t give you the right to be violent.”

“It’s fine.”

Both pairs of eyes turn to me.

“I crossed a line, I got hurt,” I state without much passion, giving Amber a knowing glance. “I think we understand each other.”

They linger on me. For different reasons, I’m sure, but their faces are unreadable.

“If you say so,” Selene reluctantly concedes, straightening up somewhat. “But this will require teamwork, and I expect both of you to keep each other safe — not just for your sakes, but the forty million citizens who call my kingdom home.”

Forty million.

Forty… million…

She is really not making me feel any better about this.

“Can I trust you two to play nice?”

I look at Amber.

She looks at me.

After a long, indignant silence, I turn back to the princess. “We’ll manage.”

“I hope so,” she says with a light nod, then pauses to levitate her bowl up and take a sip. “Now, considering your condition, I’ll give you however long it takes for your leg to heal, but as soon as you’re fit to travel… not that I mean to sound callous, but I insist you start moving. There’s no time limit, as such, but again, I’d prefer this over and done with as soon as possible.”

“Where are we heading?”

“West, at first, to the city. There, you’ll stock up on food, water and, hopefully, clothes — especially in your case, Adam — and then you’ll have to find your own way east. I’ll grant you what funds I can for this journey, but I urge you not to spend it frivolously; not just because it’s my money, but because you’d be drawing unwanted attention. You two will be strange enough to the people there as you are; you don’t need them wondering why you have so many bits.”

I nod to myself, then look to Amber for her reaction.

She stares into her bowl with a riled scowl, but at the same time, I see… apprehension.

It’s only natural, I suppose, being told to leave her home and all, and I have to admit I feel the same — though, again, it’s not nearly as strong as I think it should be. Instead, I feel more resigned to the fact. It makes things easier to deal with, but… that’s not how normal people behave, is it? Normal people are like Amber. Normal people get mad. Normal people rage against a situation they can’t change.

…Funny…

One of the strangest creatures I’ve ever seen is more normal than me.

“I know it’s a lot to ask of you,” Selene continues, floating my soup over to the grass by my feet, “but I can’t express how important this is. Not just to me, but for all Equestria. Firebrand may very well be—”

“Selene,” I say, raising a hand, “please… I don’t need more weight on my shoulders.”

She waits a moment, and then nods once. “Fair enough.”

“Thanks. I just… Both of us… need some time.”

“Very well,” she says, soup hovering beside her as she stands. “I’ll leave you to it. I should be heading off now, anyway.”

“What about the bowls?”

“Keep them. I’ll pick them up either tonight or tomorrow.”

“Alright. And thank you, by the way.”

She smiles. “That’s quite alright. And on that note, don’t worry about the cockatrice: I’ve already dealt with him.”

“…Dealt with it how?”

Her smile turns into a disappointed frown. “By freeing his victims and sending him south, to the Everfree, where he belongs. I’ve grown used to doubt, Adam, but I am hurt that you think I’d be so heartless.”

“…So, you’ve never actually… done it before… right?”

A long, grave silence is my answer. “Goodbye, Adam.” She bows her head. “I so hoped this wouldn’t end on a sour note.”

“It doesn’t have to. If you’d just tell me that—”

“I can’t lie, Adam. Not anymore. Even if it means putting your mind at ease.”

“…Oh…”

“And, Amber…” she calls, turning to her.

Amber meets her gaze.

“Never be afraid to speak your mind.”

Something hits her. She angles her head just enough that I can’t see what it is, but her ears go completely flat.

Selene shares a glum, but nevertheless commanding look between us. “Until we meet again,” she simply says, bowing once more. And with another golden flash, she is gone, and we are left alone.