A Knight's Tales

Chapters

The Hammer Comes Down
A Single Step
A Journey of a Thousand Miles
Lesson Number One
Dark Darker Yet Darker
Catch and Release (Future)
Bedtime Story
Arts and Crafting
Denial
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance
Captive Audience (Future)
Hex
Lost and Found (Future)
Dance of the Knight
Adrift (Future)
Mess With the Bull (Future)

The Hammer Comes Down

Prism Ward makes her way through the buildings of the smiths. Each step clad in steel that inspires jealousy, awe, and respect from those around her. Here, it seems, she has found some with like minds, individuals covered in heavy armor plates for safety. Those who trust the safety of metal over the weakness of flesh. Proven tradition, over the unreliable innovations of the moment. Yet, even here the pony sees that she is alone in a way. While blacksmiths work with traditional tools, there are still the trappings of this strange station. In spite of this, the pounding of hammers and smell of the furnaces brings the mare back to a simpler time…

*clang clang clang*

A large stallion, without either horn nor wings, watches carefully the steel at the end of his tools. Deep in the fire of the forge, the metal starts to glow and soften. The stallion’s coat is covered in the soot of his work, yet still in places the deep magenta comes through. His mane is a more striking feature, a bright colored red more saturated than any in his fire. Putting down the tool, he gives a shout around the forge, “Just a little more on the bellows, sweet pea.”

Practically standing with all her weight on the bellows, a pink filly with a messy rainbow mane smiles through the soot on her face as she jumps onto the press of the forge’s bellows. “Yes pa!” Responding to the air, the flames roar forth, giving the last touch of heat needed for the plate.

Prism makes her way around the forge just in time to see her father bringing the plate out onto the anvil. A small plate of steel, it glows from the heat of the forge, and it starts to yield easily to the strikes as he brings down blow after blow from the hammer. Short, repetitive strikes meld the steel into shape as he moves it masterfully around the surface of the anvil. Seeing the wonder in the filly’s eyes, the master blacksmith carefully puts down the hammer. “It should still be warm enough, why don’t you get this last bit.” Happily hopping onto her father’s knee, Prism puts on a small smith’s apron that is just her size. With enthusiasm, Prism wastes no time in lifting the hammer and trying to emulate the technique of her father. In spite of this attempt, her skills come to play as the hammer hits wildly around the target, while managing to miss it, and denting the plate. “Now now, calm down sweet pea.”

Putting a hoof on the hammer, her father slowly guides it up and down where it needs to be. “You need to be gentle, otherwise you’ll hurt the steel. At the same time, you have to be firm, or the steel won’t listen.” Following his advice, Prism manages to finish off the last part of the plate. In spite of this, the dents from earlier remain. With the steel now too cooled, these dents seem well set in place. Prism looks to her father, confused. Stroking his beard with a sooty hoof, he replies to the filly sagely, “As much as we’d like to, we can’t undo what we’ve already done. There’s no way to take back a stroke of the hammer, or the sword. The best we can do is either ignore it, look around it, or do more work to fix what we’ve done.” As he finishes these last words, he brings out a smaller intricate hammer from its place on the rack, head glowing red hot, it melds the steel as if it were the same on where it strikes. In a matter of seconds, the plate is fixed, and ready to cool.

A distant signal tone rings from the town’s belltower. Ponies all around the town square begin coming out of their buildings and tents to see the commotion. With glee, little Prism hops off of her father’s lap and to the door. Laughing with her enthusiasm, he puts the glowing hammer back and takes off his apron. “Sounds like your mother should be back, let’s get you washed up.”

“Excuse me, miss?” The shopkeep’s words bring Prism back to reality, inside the cramped quarters and artificial surroundings of the station. “Are you going to buy something or not?”

The mare’s response comes as softly as ever, “So sorry, just looking.”

Author's Note

Thanks for reading! These short stories are still being uploaded, so be patient and it should all make sense in the end.

A Single Step

Before the sun had risen, a unicorn filly was already awake, making ready for the day ahead. While Prism was nervous, that could hardly top her excitement, today was finally her first day at the school. A breakfast of oats and molasses did nothing to settle the butterflies in her stomach, but she still ate quickly, looking for energy she’d need in the climb ahead. Hurriedly, she went to get her father to walk to the edge of town with her, only to find him sleeping heavily as always, “Pa. Pa!” The filly jumped up onto her parent’s bed and began shaking her father’s heavy body as best she could, “Pa get up, it’s my first day of school, Ma said you have to walk me to the pathway.”

The massive bulk of the earth pony barely shifted under the filly’s assault, his head rising groggily, “No no, that can’t be right. School is for big fillies, you’re much too little.” Prism started to protest before being pulled into a great hug, “Besides, you’d have to get away from me first!” he continued playfully.

Squirming wildly, Prism made about as much progress as could be expected, which is to say none. “Pa! Please, I’ll be late for the test!” This made a bout of laughter bellow forth from her father as he let her go and ruffled her mane lightly. This made the filly’s grin practically stretch from ear to ear as she tried to fix it.

Responding more seriously he spoke again, “Alright fine, but you’ll have to tell me everything that happens, promise.” As he spoke this promise, he made a cross over his heart that was copied by Prism. After helping with her last preparations, Prism and her proud father started their way to the edge of town. Well before most other ponies of the town were awake, the two walked through empty streets before coming to a trail cutting into the thick forest. Still with only the barest traces of dawn, the woods were dark. Sensing a bit of fear in his favorite filly, Heavy Hammer decided to comfort her, “You know, your mother patrols around this time every day.” Stars of amazement fill Prism’s eyes as he continues, “Who knows, maybe you’ll run into her. Just be safe and stay on the trail. I love you sweet pea!”

Prism blushed, “I love you too, pa. I’ll tell you all about school tonight.” Turning to the trail, she could feel her hooves getting cold, and her leg heavy as she lifted it. Taking a deep breath, she took her first step alone outside the village. As nothing went immediately wrong, excitement took over once again as she began practically running down the trail, waving goodbye to her father at the first curve. The trail was uneventful but gorgeous, making its way around the base of the great mountain that her village was nestled against the side of. Nearly halfway there, she found a clearing where the light of the sun was shining on her destination up the mountain, the great unicorn city of Canterlot. It gleamed beautifully against the mountainside like a sparkling jewel of marble and gold. As she stopped to admire it, she realized also that it having light meant she’d be running late. With this spurring the filly on, the rest of the trail blurred as she ran to the end.

Here at the end she came to a sight she’d been told of, but only seen herself once or twice, the carriage train road to Canterlot. Ponies from all around Equestria were queued here to get into the carriages and make their way up toward the great city. A few guards went about keeping order and resolving complaints. One approached Prism, a unicorn mare in great plates of armor befitting a knight. Approaching silently behind the filly as she tried to find which carriage was the school shuttle, the knight spoke just a hair’s breadth away, “I think you forgot something, little one.” Prism jumped with shock before turning and smiling wide as the knight continued, “You forgot to give me a hug!” The knight pulled up her faceplate as she said this, and pulled Prism in close with her magic before pulling her into another crushing hug for the big morning.

Prism squealed with delight, “Ma! You made it to see me?” She buried her face into the steel plated chest of her mother. The filly’s excitement was so great she couldn’t help but laugh with her sheer joy.

Her mother cooed softly, “Do you think I’d miss this? This is your big day.” After holding the embrace for a moment, she finally stood up, putting Prism down as well. “Now, let’s get you to your carriage, sweet pea.” Escorted by a knight, the little filly had no trouble getting to the carriage. A display of wealth, the carriage stood out from the crowd with its velvet and rare wood construction.

Once there, a unicorn in ornate wizard’s robes greeted them professionally, “I am to assume that you are Dame Sight Ward, and her daughter?”

Seeing her daughter’s anxiety starting to worsen at the crowd of new ponies, Sight Ward spoke for her, “Yes, Prism here will be attending the academy this year to begin her schooling.” Satisfied, the wizard opened the carriage door with a flourish of magic and bowed to the knight. Nodding, she turned to Prism and spoke softly to her daughter, “I know it’s a lot, but you’re more brave than any filly I know. You’re going to do great things, and this is where it starts. You tell me all about school tonight. I love you my little prism!”

Emboldened by her mother’s words, Prism nodded bravely and gathered herself to step foot onto the carriage. Turning before she stepped on, she managed to speak in spite of the crowds, “I love you too, ma!” Seeing her mother’s proud smile gave Prism the confidence she needed to step into the velvet lined interior of the carriage, joining a couple of other fillies and colts on the trip to the academy.

A Journey of a Thousand Miles

The carriage held a few other fillies and colts, most from more distant provinces. All had come to attend the prestigious Canterlot Academy. Prism shrank into the nearest corner of the carriage, intimidated by all the new faces. She hadn’t expected what came next, as the door opened once again to reveal a small lavender unicorn filly with a curled mane and large glasses. This new filly looked excitedly around the carriage, before practically jumping into the empty seat next to Prism. Whether not able to tell or refusing to accept Prism’s anxiety, the new filly struck up a conversation, “Hi, my name is Opal Aura, what’s yours?”

Emboldened by Aura’s confidence, Prism came out of her corner and sat more comfortably beside her new seatmate. “My name is Prism Ward.” She looked around, as if to see if anyone was listening in, “Want to stay together today?”

Opal Aura seemed ecstatic at this suggestion, moving closer to Prism and offering a hoof, “Can we can be friends? My family’s moving here so-” She was cut off by Prism taking the offered hoof with her own and shaking it firmly, “Deal!” The two fillies laughed, starting a friendship that would last for years.

As the two fillies engrossed themselves in conversation, they didn’t even notice when the carriage began moving up the winding road ascending the mountain toward Canterlot. It wasn’t until they were nearly up the mountainside that they were alerted by the shining light coming in through the windows. The two gasped in awe at the sight before them, as if all of Equestria had been laid out like a map. There were farms and villages in the distance, with paths lacing across the great forest beneath. Even clouds, with pegasi flitting back and forth between them, were nearly level with the awestruck fillies. Contented to watch out the window for the rest of the trip, the marble city of Canterlot beckoned before them, gold wrought gates lie opened on either side of the road were overseen by unicorn guard wizards and patrolling guards. The carriage lost no time in moving through the bustling city, coming before an enormous tower, the academy itself.

The ponies inside the carriage found themselves filed out in a neat row toward the massive Academy Tower, a cyclopean structure of marble and gold, with stained glass windows breaking its facing here and there to depict famous scenes of history. Inside, the smell of incense and the tingle of magic filled the air as a far grander and more opulent place was revealed than even the outside would indicate. Robed ponies ran back and forth carrying stacks of books and scrolls, Spells were being fired off and tested from among the uncountable stories with their balconies into this main hall. As the Archmage began their welcoming address, Prism and Aura looked to each other with utter delight at it all.

The Archmage’s speech droned and flew over most of the new student’s heads, but one thing did manage to make it through, the curriculum for the day: the entrance exam. All students, as traditional, would need to go to the front and draw forth their task on a stone from the great pot that had been used for this purpose since the days of Princess Platinum. In order to continue in the school, the students would need to complete these tasks with their spellcraft, being provided with studying material if necessary. These tasks had been created with the intent of being solvable by such novice mages, most being as simple as bringing the instructor an apple or finding a magic ring among identical mundane ones, though there were rumors of far more difficult tasks within the pot.

As there were only a given few rooms available for the tasks, the students were left to tour the campus as they awaited their turn to draw from the pot. While Aura seemed to relish the idea of the challenge, it shook Prism to her core. Aura reassured her friend, insisting that it would mostly be for show, since the task calls for no more than cantrip level magic. Worrying over the task occupied Prism’s mind, distracting her from the tour as it passed through libraries and spell chambers. Finally, Prism was called for, seeming petrified as the Master came to guide her. Remembering her mother’s words, she overcame her fear and followed the Master, looking back only once to see Aura smiling and cheering her on.

The wooden stage was well polished, but still showed wear from the day’s entrants making their way across it on exactly the path that Prism took now. The Masters of the Academy oversaw the ceremony, as was tradition, and one guided the scared filly up a small stepladder that had been set up near the pot. The pot itself seemed to tower over Prism, a massive clay thing with painting inscriptions depicting the early history of the Unicorns. As she climbed the ladder, she could see inside the darkness of the pot, but no further. One of the Masters gave an incantation before cueing her to reach in, and so she did, her hoof vanishing in darkness until it felt a small stone. Surprised, she brought the stone out to find a smooth oval of smoky quartz. The Master on stage took up the stone and held it to the light, announcing her task to all the room, “Prism Ward must light a candle.”

Masters stomped their hooves to the floor, before Prism was led to a small plain room. On a desk in the center was a tall candle in a simple stand. The Master who led her here introduced himself as Ace Blaze, and recited the rules. Prism was at an absolute loss for what to do. Following her first thought, she looked through her bags, finding the kit that her pa had made in case she got lost in the forest. Careful to use her magic to do so, she withdrew the flint and steel from her bag. Ace covered his mouth with a hoof as the filly used her magic to strike flint and steel together in an effort to light the candle, forbidden to interfere. Eventually, a spark landed true, and the candle came alight. As it did, the candle had to compete with Prism’s face as for which had lit up more.

Unfortunately, both were snuffed at once by Master Ace putting out the candle as he spoke with a bemused tone, “Very clever, but you really must do light this with a spell and our provided materials.” Seeing the filly’s sudden disappointment, he added the one hint he was allowed to give, “You did well though, I wonder what just one Spark could do.” Catching his notion, Prism remembered a spell cast by her mother to light the forge on days where it was her duty, and requested the materials for this Spark spell. Smiling gladly that the filly was on the right track, Ace took the spellbook excerpt from his robes, and put it on the table in front of the filly.

Reading over the pages front to back several times, Prism finally felt confident in trying the cantrip. Following the directions exactly, she made the final motion and aimed her horn at the candle, but nothing happened. Nothing at all. Trying again, she found the same result, only succeeding in making herself dizzy by the quick movement. Any sign of amusement left the face of Ace, replaced by a hint of confusion, this cantrip was accessible for anyone. Meanwhile, Prism tried again and again, checking herself and her stance each time. As she continued, her confidence eroded into panic and frustration, tinged with fear. Finally, with tears welling in her eyes, she slammed her head into the table next to the spell that eluded her, beginning to sob into it. Ace was still confused, the filly’s form was flawless, enough so that any pony should be able to cast the spell with it. Taking out his hand lens, he began to inspect the spell to assure it’s accuracy.

As Prism was crying on the table, she noticed the Master moving closer, but more importantly she noticed the spot of light that hit her eye from his hand lens, and got an idea. Sniffling as she did her best to wipe away her tears, she spoke to Ace, “May I borrow that? Also can we turn down the lights.” While the filly’s request confused Ace, the terms of the trial demanded that he go along with it. Turning down the lights, he checked if he could take the paper of the spell now, getting a quick nod as the filly started to move the hand lens closer and further from the candle. Using the faded light of the room, he couldn’t see any errors in the spell pages, they seemed to be in prime condition. As Ace looked closely at the parchment, he was surprised when the room was suddenly filled with a gentle, warm glow. Dropping his paper, he saw the filly smiling even brighter than before, her horn alight as she held the magnifying glass between it and the candle. This time, Ace couldn’t help but smile with her.

Prism excitedly recounted the story of her trial to Aura, who similarly told her of the time she’d had opening the door from the opposite side of her trial room. The rest of the day seemed a happy blur in spite of the struggle earlier, until the time came for the students to go home. Prism was called for a private meeting, and parted ways with her friend. Suddenly, the cold rock in her gut from the trial was back, with a vengeance. This fear was confirmed when she was led into an office with Ace, and her pa.

Hammer was more upset than Prism often saw him, his brow deeply furrowed, though he did lighten up as he picked Prism up in a hug before plopping her into a chair next to him. Turning to Ace, his face was once again all business, as he spoke with a tone of voice Prism recognized from his dealing with problem customers, “Now, Mr. Ace, I want you to explain to her what you told me.”

Ace made an almost pleading face toward the hulking blacksmith, receiving only a slow shake in response. Inhaling deeply, he sighed before starting, “First, Miss Prism, I’d like to complement your solution to the trial.” He gave a sincere smile to the filly then continued, “Unfortunately, there’s a difference between Unicorn Magic and a spell, and you didn’t cast any spells.”

Prism was shaken to the core by these words, barely able to get out a response, “But, I lit the candle with magic, didn’t I?” She pulled herself close to her father, out of some sense of defense.

Ace saw this, and showed pain in his face at the scene of the filly, knowing that it was his words which were hurting the child. Gathering his will once again, he continued, “That … Isn’t the problem. Do you remember the spell you tried to cast?” Prism nodded. “That spell is a cantrip, and you did everything right. This isn’t your fault.”

Trying to comprehend what Ace was talking about, Prism managed to make out a question, “...What’s wrong?”

Ace rubbed his temple slowly, barely able to say it himself, “I’m afraid that you can’t cast spells, Miss Prism, at all.” He continued, speaking of magical properties, and the distribution of magic within a unicorn, but Prism couldn’t focus on any of it. It was as if a thick grey rain was washing through the world around her, drowning out the color and sound. She was pulled back by a squeezing pull from her pa next to her, catching the last of Ace’s monologue, “-agic items just fine, but I’m afraid that true casting is out of the question.” Ace readjusted his collar and looked to both Prism and her father, “I truly am sorry.”

Now, Hammer spoke up, his voice nearing a growl, “You said that she passed the trial, so doesn’t she have the right to learn here?” Ace was perplexed by this, but gave a small nod, before Hammer continued, “Then that settles it, even if she can’t cast magic she can still study it. She can use magic items like you said, so she can learn about those too. This is the best place of learning in the world, there have to be things to learn.” He looked down to his daughter now, softly asking “So long as you do want to learn here?” An enthusiastic nod was all the answer that either of them needed. Hammer then looked to Ace expectantly.

Ace couldn’t tell what he felt most of all, pity for the filly, fear thanks to the father, or the twinge of happiness at seeing them both so ready to overcome what was by all means a crippling disability. In any case, he considered his options carefully before making his decision, “Yes, yes she can. I’ll take her on into my class personally, and she’ll do as much studying as she likes. There are magic items aplenty here that she can use to further her magical comprehensions. We have tomes and scrolls on all subjects here, I can’t imagine her finding a better and more comprehensive education anywhere in Equestria. We would be honored to have you, Miss Prism Ward.”

The idea of a such an opportunity managed to momentarily eclipse the bad news in Prism’s young mind. Grinning wide, she seemed to suddenly remember something, and insisted that she did have one condition, “I met a friend today, and we promised to stay together, can she be in your class?”

Enheartened by the filly’s ability to spring forward, Ace couldn’t help but agree. After all, having friends would help Prism’s development as her education went forward. Prism and Hammer, satisfied, left the office. Hammer looked to his tired daughter and picked her up suddenly, placing the filly square on his back, exhausted from the long day. By the time he’d made it to the road, she’d already started succumbing to sleep. Softly, he cooed to her, “I guess that your ma and I can wait to hear about your day, seems like it was a long one.”

Author's Note

Here we have one of our first plot-heavy entries, explaining Prism's disability.

Lesson Number One

The storehouse was dusty, the dry stale air assaulting Prism’s nose as she entered. Lighting the sconces with a flourish from his horn, Blaze looked down to the filly gently. Seeing the wonder in her eyes, he spoke with some doubt “Are you sure that you want to spend your day in here? This is where we keep various more dubious or difficult magic items.” His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a crowbar being used to pry off one of the crate ends to inspect what could be inside. Smiling, Blaze gave his assignment for the day, “Alright then, I want you to go through these crates and organize them. When you find something interesting, bring it out.” As Prism set to the task with a bow, Blaze left the room to start his tea and go over the day’s scrolls.

Meanwhile, in the room, Prism found more magic items than she had ever been around in her life. She’d seen a few magic items that her ma and pa had made or used, but they were always careful to keep them out of reach. After all, these items tended to be of the dangerous sort. The first box seemed to be largely filled with wands of all different sorts and sizes. Curious, Prism took one up in her magic, a short yew length, with a bubble of glass on the end holding a single drop of blood. It shimmered in the light, and Prism couldn’t help but whisk the wand around, noticing a shift in the shimmering of the entrapped blood and the weight of the wand.

Overcome by her curiosity, Prism started playing around with the wand in a pragmatic manner, emulating her original waving, and trying other ways to see how the wand reacted. Eventually, she managed to do something right, as the wand flared with a deep, resonating magic. The wand’s end began to glow with light that traveled to Prism and surrounded her in a veil of force. Ecstatic at her success, Prism tried again, but this time she noted too late that her angle was very slightly different. This made the magic go very suddenly haywire, as a wave of force repulsed out from the wand and blasted the filly away.

The force was overwhelming, knocking her through the air and smashing into another crate behind her. With a groan of pain, Prism noted that the shimmering force layer around her had dissipated some, having likely absorbed the hit. Also, she saw a pale blue glow coming from a new crack in the crate she’d just hit. Putting the wand away fearfully as she took up the crowbar, she pried open the second crate. Inside, surrounded by padding parchment and felt, was an intricate and slightly curved sword, glowing with magical power. The shining weapon resonated with Prism, and she reached out almost subconsciously with her magic to lift the sword. It felt oddly heavy in her grasp for its thin blade, its length seemingly heavier than it looked. This was truly something interesting, she thought, as she looked through the padding and found a matching scabbard to bring with the sword out to Master Blaze.

Blaze was starting on his second cup of tea when he saw Prism enter his room, carrying in tow a sword nearly as long as she. The filly proudly came to his desk and set the sword gently on it, with a careful grasp of magic. She spoke as softly as ever, “I found something interesting, I think.” Blaze couldn’t help but agree, nodding sagely as his eyes came alight to Detect Magic on the weapon.

Impressed, Blaze spoke “Well, you’ve found a magic weapon. Today’s lesson for you will be to tell me all you can about it by the end of the day.” Taking up the sword in his own magic, he led the way into the library, finding a small table out of the way for the project. He continued now, as Prism followed closely, “You should find everything you need here, so I’d like a report on everything you can find out about the weapon.”

With fervor, Prism set about researching and testing all that she could. She inspected for, found, and looked up a maker’s mark; used impact and water testing to find the material composition; and even set about investigating the magical matrix of the enchantment. As she found these things, she was also able to find some details about the original owner of the weapon. Fascinated by what she found, she began to head down the rabbit hole of that research after hastily finishing her report.

Blaze wasn’t surprised to hear the knock on his door of Prism returning to give her findings. As the filly returned the sword to his desk, she put on top of it a long scroll of parchment with a careful, neat writing on it. She bowed and began to leave before Blaze stopped her, “Not so fast now, any report that is well written will be better spoken.” Seeing her trepidation, Blaze reassured her as he closed the door, “Don’t worry, it’s just for me.”

Prism took a deep breath as she pulled back her report, and began reciting from it, “This weapon represents a historical find, a composite nodachi blade of pegasus lightning iron with the folding techniques favored by the smiths of ancient eastern unicorn tribes. This likely indicates that a supply of pegasus weapons claimed in the pre-unification wars was reforged in order to create the weapon. This forging was led by the masterful smith Tatara Bellows, but would be executed by a team of seven unicorns. The smithing skills would be combined with the rites of the Shinto in order to draw forth the power of the local kami into the weapon. For seven weeks of seven days these smiths worked the steel of seven claimed weapons, using a fire made with bones of great fallen warriors of the past. After the process was done, the weapon was quenched by the blood of an Oni, whose destructive power would be absorbed into the weapon as a basis for its magical matrix.” Prism continued, not noticing the nodding interest of her instructor, “This magical matrix was woven through the classical methods of the Lotus Clan of enchanters and has a magical focal point at the weight center of the weapon, maximizing its ability to turn and riposte. This matrix has the intent of further strengthening the weapon along with having a mild property to part the underlying composition of anything struck by the blade of the sword. This allows for maximum cutting power at the point of contact while resisting the ability of other weapons to damage the blade. There is however, a curse that prevents its power from being used by those who are not of its owner’s bloodline.” Prism stopped now for a deep breath, causing Blaze to think her report over. Not noticing his starting to speak, she kept at it, “All of this work indicates that the weapon was going to be made for none other than a true sword saint of the eastern unicorns, one whom I have identified as Swallow Return. This master of the blade invented a new school of neighponese swordplay, and the technique named after him. He traveled for many years mastering his craft after he’d defeated his master. Eventually, he would be defeated by another sword saint in a fatal duel. I conclude that this is his sword, the Laundry Drying Pole.”

Blaze was flatly impressed by Prism’s report, and complimented her comprehensiveness and interest in researching the owner of the weapon. Taking great care with the weapon, he started to pack it away and sent Prism off for the day. Thanking her master profusely for the chance, Prism made her way out of the room to head home after a long day of research and learning.

The whole way home, and once she’d arrived, her head was filled with thoughts of great unicorn warriors in days long past. When she got home, her mother found her outside playing with a stick as her a sword. Kindly, Vision asked her filly “What exactly are you doing, sweet pea?”

Prism bounced over to her mother, dropping the stick from her grasp. Looking up to her mother, she had stars in her eyes, “When I grow up, I want to be a great fighter like Swallow, or you!”

Vision seemed shaken by the filly’s childish statement, but still took it seriously, speaking in a distant tone with her eyes covered by her bangs “I don't know who Swallow is, but I said something like that when I was your age, and my mother said no because she didn’t want me to get hurt.” Prism started to back off, her ma didn’t speak of her childhood much, and it often wasn’t good news. Still, Vision continued, “I didn’t listen, and I played around behind her back. I got hurt badly because I didn’t know what I was doing.” Prism was starting to look down, but caught her ma’s prideful face shooting up as she spoke with a wide smile ”Now you’re going to learn to do it right!”

Prism gave a small cheer, and ran around her mother excitedly before being stopped by a stroking hoof on her mane. Vision spoke again, this time with a stern voice of authority, “I’ll start training you, but keep away from swords if you can. They’re sharp.” Prism nodded with a stalwart stance, barely able to contain her excitement as her mother continued, handing her a small rubber mallet and guiding her daughter’s positioning, “Alright, it all begins with your stance...”

Dark Darker Yet Darker

Two fillies played under the high sun in the garden behind Canterlot’s Cathedral. Released early from their classes for the day, Prism and Aura had taken to exploring in the city while they waited for the carriage. Their lessons had continued now for a couple years, and they’d taken to them strongly. Aura had found her talent in abjurations, and her cutie mark with it, though she still couldn’t shake a passion for more ostentatious displays of magic. While Prism had yet to find her special talent, she had taken well to training with her mother, returning from her lessons each day to hone her martial prowess. While older than when they’d first started school, the two still dreamed of seeing the world and going on adventures together, and between Prism’s knowledge and Aura’s spellcraft, they had excelled at most any project Master Blaze had put before them.

Still, this day found the two of them going about the well kept gardens, chasing after monsters on an adventure in their own minds. Things changed when Prism tripped hard on a hole near the wall. As Aura came to check on her friend, they both noticed that the hole seemed to lead into a large, dark space. Exchanging an excited glance at each other, Prism remembered the rope she had packed in her emergency kit, and began tying it to a nearby tree. While she secured the way in, Aura began digging at the hole with her hooves, widening it enough that the fillies could fit inside of it, and into the darkness beyond. Prism laughed at seeing the dirty state of her friend, but was silenced by a tackling hug that got at least as much of the dust on her.

Laying on the grass, the fillies had only one question to discuss, one vocalized by Aura, “So, who’s first?” Prism considered this for a moment, before both of them spoke at once, “Me!” Laughing again, the two fillies eventually played a match of hoof-horseshoe-horn to find the winner, Aura. Excitedly, she began to lower herself into the darkness, lighting her horn when only her head was remaining above the ground. Prism followed her friend to the sound of her amazement at what was inside, an opinion well justified as Prism lit her own horn to see gleaming caverns of shining crystals.

The two made their way carefully about the caverns, noting scattered remnants of mining activity that had been ceased long ago. Careful but curious, the fillies inspected these artifacts and tried to solve the mystery of why such a mining shaft would be abandoned. As they wandered a little ways further into the shafts, a cold chill started to work its way upon the fillies. Neither one wanted to admit that she was scared, but as they looked to each other, Prism saw a fluttering thing behind Aura. Freezing, Prism slowly lifted her hoof to get Aura’s attention as words caught in her throat. For her part, Aura noticed that her companion had stopped, and did so herself, seeing the pointing hoof she looked down and about herself. There, Aura noticed her second shadow.

Moving and flitting in the light of the two unicorns, the shadow stretched behind her onto the wall, a warped thing like a pegasus with wings stretching across the walls. Color fading as she began to shake, Aura bolted away as one of the wings stretched silently along the floor and brushed against her. The silence was broken as Aura gave out a great cry of pain while muscles atrophied and withered away under the darkness of the shadow. Seeing her friend hurt awakened something deep inside Prism, as she charged to Aura’s defense, swinging wildly at the shadow with the training hammer from her bag. Alas, the hammer had no effect, swinging passively through the monster. Unexpectedly, the shadow pulled back, onto the wall again it spoke in a hissing voice “You fillies shouldn’t have come here, I am beyond you. I’ll give you a chance now, stand down and go easy or fight and die tired.”

The shadow got its answer as Aura picked herself up from the ground with effort, groaning from her pained legs as she put weight on them. Looking to the shadow with a furious intent, she intoned her spell as flares of a magic missile smashed into the creature, making a tattered hole in the darkness of the shadow. Angered by this assault, the shadow reached off the the wall and grasped around Aura’s chest. Once again, there was a great cry as Aura could feel the weakness even as deep as her heart. Looking pleadingly to her friend, Aura collapsed to the ground as the light on her horn slowly faded. Maliciously, the shadow spoke again, “Perhaps I’ll let you be the first victim of her shadow.”

Tears started to stream down Prism’s face, tears for her friend, for her desperation, for her family. She dropped the useless hammer to the ground, and could feel the monster moving toward her. Still, she could feel that something from before still present deep inside, pulsing like her heartbeat. Time seemed to slow for an instant as she saw, just barely, a movement of Aura’s eyelid. Knowing that her friend was still alive, if only just, and that she needed Prism to defend her, it filled Prism with determination. A flare of light began to erupt from her horn as in front of her manifested a hammer, not unlike the one she’d practiced with, but much larger. The hammer glowed with magical light from within, and looked like it was made of a faceted crystal, fracturing the light into a rainbow of colors. Seeing the weapon in her mind’s grasp, Prism made a ferocious attack against the shadow. Both were surprised to see the hammer smash into the incorporeal form of the monster, destroying it forever.

Checking on Aura, Prism found that her friend had simply been drained so heavily that she couldn’t lift even the apprentice robes she wore so proudly on her back. Using the rope in a hurried rush, Prism was able to get her up to the garden and into the temple. There, a kindly cleric manifested a Restoration spell to return Aura to her strength, he noted as he did so just how lucky the fillies had been. As the spell was cast, and Aura’s eyes flicked open, she tearfully thanked both the cleric and Prism for saving her. Unexpectedly, Aura froze suddenly while giving Prism a hug, and pointed to her flank. Turning about, Prism saw what the fuss was, her very own cutie mark.

Catch and Release (Future)

The ship’s engines give a faint hum that can be heard all throughout the cabin, a thrumming heartbeat of the ship as it speeds through the darkness of space. Passengers stay in their seats, some looking out to the streaking stars outside, others trying to sleep, and still others watching an old movie as they await their landing on a new world. One passenger seems more uncomfortable than most, wearing heavy plates of steel and holding tightly onto the handles of her seat. Her neighbor, a slight human woman with her dark hair drawn back into a ponytail, seems to keep a good distance from the worried pony.

Quite suddenly, the hum of the engines changes loudly before dying out altogether. The passengers are jarred by the change, beginning a panicked conversation, questioning what could be happening. Prism makes a quiet sound in her distress as the ship comes fully to a stop, looking out her window into the now still stars. A silhouette begins to blot out this incoming star light, a space ship coming toward the passenger shuttle.

Before long, the airlock opens and several large reptilian humanoids walk through. Covered in salvaged armor and bristling with weapons, the pirates silence the panic of the crowd by shooting their vicious looking blasters into the air. Having established control, two of their number go into the cockpit before more discharges are heard there while one more walks through the airlock. A truly massive creature, with crimson scales covered by a premium grade scatterlight suit, this Drak announces himself as the crew’s captain, Krül the Butcher.

Sneering malevolently, Krül speaks in a growling voice like the erupting volcano, “Hello there! As you can see, my men have taken control of this ship. After we take anything of value from it, we intend to blow it to bits.” This elicited a stunned gasp or scream from most of the crowd, a fear which Krül seemed to revel in. “Unfortunately, we’re quite full as a crew for now, and none of you are worth your ransom. However, if you’d prefer to not be scattered across the starways, please step onto my ship and we will work out your price of transit.” He finished this with a serpentine smile, and watched with a predator’s gaze as an elven man stepped forward only to be beaten down by two pirates, manacles cruelly shoved on.

Once again the passengers started to panic, and Krül only gave a calm, “Plan B then…” as his men began beating and shooting at the innocent passengers, roughly shoving them into a line for collection. The scene erupted into chaos, with people jumping rows of chairs to escape their assailants and shots being fired with rage into the madness. In this mob, Prism managed to let go of her seat, walking into the aisle toward Krül as a steady rock in the storm. One of the pirates sees the strange pony and thinks to try and wrestle her to the ground. Prism’s horn flares as her hammer appears, smashing it into the skull of the pirate. Continuing her steady march, now demanding more attention, she comes within reach of Krül before he stops her, “Now, that’s quite enough of that.”

Her voice barely rising above a whisper, Prism speaks to Krül “Stop this, go back to your ship, and no one else dies.” She looks up to the Drak hopefully, even if her heart tells her what to expect.

Smiling down at the pony, Krül mockingly considers her offer as his men start to encircle the pony, cutting off her retreat, “Well, that’s a good point actually, I could give up a big score and just go home empty handed.” Spitting at Prism, his snark vanishes into a deep hatred, “I mean, that or I could just kill you where you stand and take the rest of these pigs to market.”

His men start to advance on Prism wickedly, but are interrupted by an ominous pound of her hammer into the ground. Softly as ever, she speaks again “How about this, you and I fight alone to settle this.” Her eyes glint with determination as the hammer ignites into purple flames with magic.

Krül feels the readiness of the pony, and it spurs on something deep within him. The primal bloodlust for which his kind have been known and feared across the free systems. With a vicious grin and a breath that glows like a forge, he agrees. Drawing out a blaster pistol in one hand and a red-hot vibrating blade in the other, Krül charges forth into battle. Prism parries his opening strikes with her shield, but her hammer manages to land true, smashing into the great mass of the captain. The pain seems to drive Krül into a crazed frenzy, like a shark tasting his own blood. The frenzy of bladed attacks puts Prism on the defensive and forces her back, with the final blow knocking up her shield for an easy shot from the blaster. It scorches a mark in Prism’s armor, as she gives a small grunt of pain. Prism’s counterattack comes in the form of a spinning blow from the hammer, which knocks the captain back and bloodies his left eye.

Prism advances on her fallen foe, trying to finish her fight. Suddenly she feels a jolt of electricity from behind, followed by a half dozen more. Turning to see this treachery, she was in time to see the nets and chains thrown by some more of the pirates. Covered in these bindings, and under assault from the stunners, it was finally too much and she fell, the hammer dissipating from her concentration. A moment later, she hears the heavy steps of Krül moving around to be in front of the pony, sparing a step to kick her while she was down, he spits venomous words at her as he covers a wounded eye, “Nice tricks, bone head. Tell you what, we’ll see if a buyer wants you undamaged before we break that pesky horn.” These last words are accompanied by another sharp kick to the horn of her armor.

Prism whimpers in pain at the assault, but is surprised when she sees one of the passengers, a gnome, moving silently behind the pirates, casting a Suggestion charm on the distracted captain before retreating back. The unknown passenger whispers a few words, which are parroted by Krül “So, you men think I can’t handle this pony myself? I’ll show you lot!” Suddenly acting on these words, Krül rips the nets off of Prism. As the spell’s effect runs its course, his eyes returned to normal, and he turns swiftly to his men to correct his enchanted words. Before he can speak, Krül is pulled into Prism’s magical grasp and slammed into the wall in a raging violet aura. Respecting their captain’s orders, and fearful of the pony’s sudden ferocity, the pirates stand far back from the fighting. Picking up the ropes and nets she’d just been bound with, Prism ties the captain up, being sure to gag him before dropping the reptile to the hard floor. Her work done, Prism manifests her hammer again with a flourish. With a fearful remaining eye, Krül helplessly watches Prism lift her hammer high, before smashing it into the ground next to his head with sufficient force to warp the steel floor of the ship.

Prism leaned down to the captain, and whispers a simple question, “So sorry, it looks like I missed. Will you leave this sector forever, or should I adjust my aim?” A fearful nod is all the response that Prism needs before removing the gag from the captain, who gives an immediate and desperate order to retreat. As they leave, Prism helped the other passengers who had been enchained, before heading without fanfare to her seat. The gnome from earlier speaks to her, thanking her for her help and offers to fly the ship, while offhandedly speaking of the tracker he slipped onto Krül to assure his arrest. Prism asks only one question of the traveler, “Where are you going, that they have heroes like you?” Perplexed that he is the one being called a hero here, the traveler still gave his answer, security at Miracle Station.

Satisfied by this answer, Prism refuses any payment or reward from any of the passengers, only taking thanks as she simply returning to her seat. Though, regardless of her opinion on the matter she receives an impromptu hug from the woman next to her, bringing a smile to her face in spite of an aching body.

Author's Note

Here we see the first instance of a recurring theme. These stories aren't necessarily sequential or even chronological to each other, and some of them take place with Prism among the stars. These chapters will receive the (Future) tag.

Bedtime Story

Prism fussed about in her bed, tossing and turning. Looking up toward the stars, she remembered something similar in her youth. A smile came upon her face as her thoughts went toward the story that her pa had told her that night…

* * * * *

Hammer continued packing his bags, already towering things, with anything that he could think to bring and then some. His old friend, Storm Front, was impatiently waiting on a cloud he’d dragged down. Frustrated with Hammer’s need for preparation, Storm groaned “Hammer, I think you have half your shop in that bag. We’ll be fine.”

Hammer scoffed at his friend’s eagerness, “We’re about to go trekking up a mountain, trying to enchant this armor, and you think I should go in without whatever I need?”

Storm slowly raised an eyebrow, before flitting his wings up to the top of the bag, drawing out a kitchen sink. As if his face didn’t say it all, he spoke flatly “Really?” Shrugging off his friend’s criticisms, Hammer insisted he put it back. After all, they wouldn’t know what they need for the enchantment until it’s started. This elicited another groan from Storm, who began physically shoving the much larger stallion out the door. “Hey, it’s your call if you’re the one carrying it.” Storm joked, managing to get at least a light laugh from Hammer.

The two set forth on the trail, winding and working its way slowly up the mountain. Some way outside of the town, Hammer stopped, causing Storm to run into the towering bag in the middle of a backstroke. Agitated, Storm landed to tell Hammer off, “What was that about?”

Hammer had a long stare about him, and showed his trepidation on his face, “I don’t travel much, Storm. You know that. This’ll be the furthest from home I’ve ever been.”

Nodding in affirmation, Storm patted his buddy on the shoulder, “Yeah, I thought this might happen.” He continued, trying to snap his friend out of it, “The problem is, that sorcerer said we needed to bring the mountain’s roots to its head to get magic to take hold.” Seeing that this was doing nothing, Storm got a sly smile as he thought of how to egg his friend on. “Of course, if some cardio is enough to stop your betrothal gift-”

His taunting was interrupted by a suddenly running Hammer, in spite of the great pack on his back. Smiling at his friend, Hammer teased him back, “C’mon Stormie, I thought you were fast.” The two encouraging and pushing each other, they managed to reach the icy peak while the last rays of light were still upon them. Exhausted, Storm collapsed into the snow before darting up into the air at the cold. Hammer laughed at his friend’s antics, barely winded as he started to set up camp. Unpacking from his bags, the two stallions built up their camp. Near the fire, on a truss, Hammer put up the armor. A true masterpiece, he looked with pride on its shining plates of beautiful steel.

Settled around the fire, Storm commented on Hammer’s pride, “You know, when I heard you were working on something for thirty weeks, I thought you were daft. I’ve got to say, this was worth it.”

Still proudly grinning, Hammer replied, “Aye, but let’s see about enchanting it.” He pulled a parchment, carefully folded, out of his pocket. Bringing it out to its full size, the wind suddenly picked up, tearing the paper away. Hammer gave a sharp cry as he reached futilely out toward the drifting page, before seeing a dark shape swoop it up.

As Hammer barely managed to get over the near loss of the page, Storm couldn’t help but laugh as he handed it back. “Now what would you do without me?” Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t the sincere, crushing hug that ensued as his old friend thanked him. More seriously, Storm spoke again after a moment of silence, “She really does mean a lot to you doesn’t she?” Hammer nodded with tears in his eyes as he weighted down the corners of the page on the folding desk he’d brought. Storm flew over to the desk to see the arcane instructions they’d been set to follow. Putting his hoof on Hammer’s shoulder again, he looked him in the eyes, “Then how about we wait until morning so we don’t screw this up.” Hammer barely agreed, and the two had a fitful sleep atop the mountain.

The first day they set to the task of starting the magical matrix. The vessel was certainly satisfactory, an exemplary piece of precision engineering, but the matrix would need to be activated. The caster told them this could be done by giving it exposure to all of the four elements. Since metal like this was brought from the depths of the mountain and forged in a hot furnace, it had seen both of these on the earth. Now, in the sky it would need to meet the air and water combined. The two stallions puzzled over this interpretation for hours, until Hammer looked down from their mountain peak camp and saw thunderstorm in the distance.

While Storm flew to ‘borrow’ a storm cloud, Hammer carefully bent wire into shape to create a lightning rod with a branching base, able to reach the magical focal point of each plate of armor. With a swift kick from Storm, a thunderous crash echoed across the mountainside, and the very power of the lightning strike was funneled into the armor as it arced and leaped through the wires of gold, completing its matrix. Unfortunately, the lightning continued to flow from the dark cloud.

Hammer sensed that something was going wrong, as the matrix was starting to overload. Unable to find anything else, he did the first thing he could think of, grabbing his smithing hammer and striking the lightning rod. The lightning found its alternate route, and began to course through the body of the earth pony. Looking down, Storm saw what was happening and shoved the cloud away, but it seemed to be too late as Hammer collapsed to the ground with scorches along his body. Storm panicked, shaking his friend, before Hammer gave a great groan of pain and opened his eyes. He seemed more concerned with the armor, and Storm had to convince him to call that a day.

As it turned out, the lightning had caused an energy overload, but between Hammer and his hammer, they’d managed to leverage the overload. While this had changed the intended shape of the matrix, their new solution seemed to spread in arcing patterns from node to node of the magical field around the armor, capable of better mitigating impact across the entirety of the armor’s surface.

As the rays of the sun faded, and the moon rose, another light joined them in the sky. The two had heard of the aurora lights before, but never been high and far north enough to see them. Amazed at the spectacle, Hammer knew that he needed to tap into that magic. Bandages from after the lightning strike were too restrictive for him to work yet, so he asked Storm to check for him on how it could be done.

Storm looked to the parchment, seeing that an emotional component would be needed to catch the heavens and bind them. The aurora lights had long been associated with love, so that was the emotion to give, but unfortunately Hammer was someone who kept his emotions fairly personal. This would take a special touch, Storm decided. Speaking to his friend sincerely, “It says we need a song. A song meant for the item’s bearer.”

Hammer’s face scrunched up in doubt and confusion, “Does it really say that?” Storm nodded empathetically. Hammer scoffed, “Magic is magic I suppose. Mind fetching my pipes?” Storm flew around the bags searching, before returning with a large set of bagpipes. Thanking his friend, Hammer began to start a soulful dirge on the pipes. He played a song of struggle, love and loss. The tune brought sweet tears to the eyes of both stallions, and even the aurora lights crept down closer and closer to hear the beautiful music. By the time the song had finished, Hammer took a cloth to dry his eyes, and Storm saw his chance, “You love her, don’t you?”

Looking his friend dead in the eyes as more happy tears streamed down his face, Hammer managed to say what his heart felt, “Of course I do, I love her more than anything in the world. She’s the greatest mare I’ve ever met, and I can only hope I’m good enough for her.” With these words, a confession of love, the Aurora lights touched upon the mountain top. The stallions were in a prismatic stream of light and color, like a river of rainbow light flowing through them. It lasted for just a moment, but when the lights returned to the sky, they had left their gift in the steel of the plate. With wonder, the friends saw the shifting light of the aurora moving within the armor, an image alongside the reflection. The matrix had been filled, and the magic was complete.

Storm and Hammer made their trek back to their small village, and Hammer presented his betrothal gift to Sight Ward. She wept at his gesture, and embraced him closely. She assured him that such an adventure hadn’t been necessary, but he corrected her, insisting it had all been worth it to see her smile. They married that same day, and the rest was living out their happy ever after…

* * * * *

Prism slept as well that night as she did the first time she’d heard that story, all those years ago. Looking to her armor in its resting place, she swore a ribbon of swirling color moved across it just as she faded to sleep.

Arts and Crafting

Prism took a step back from her desk to appreciate her work. From the pink coat to the striped mane, it really was a faithful little plush. Button eyes and a stitched smile gave a kind look to the filly. The rough edges, unavoidable ramifications of its hoof crafting, only made it better. With a sincere smile, Prism grabbed the little pony plush and ran haphazardly down the stairs to show her ma and pa.

Sight Ward settled into her chair, a wicker piece right by the fireplace. With a hard day of patrolling and even some action, she was certainly enjoying the opportunity to rest. Before she could so much as take a sip of hot tea, she heard Prism barreling down the stairs, a smile coming to her face. Hammer said she was working on something today, and now she got a glimpse. Carried in Prism’s mouth was a hoof stitched doll of her. Sight couldn’t stifle a soft laugh as Prism nearly tripped at the bottom of the stairs as she turned to run into her. Prism jumped up onto the wicker chair with her, dropping the plush proudly between them. “Now, what did you make there?” Sight cooed.

“I made a you, ma!” Prism squeaked, snuggling into her mother as she looked up with happiness in her eyes.

Lifting the doll to inspect its work, Sight nodded down to Prism, “I can see that, sweet pea.” Her eyes narrowed as she noticed something, turning the doll’s flank to her daughter, “Looks like the mark might have been a bit much though.” Prism nodded, hiding her face in the blanket she’d hopped onto. “Let’s see if I can’t help with that,” Sight continued, pointing toward the mantle, “mind fetching my thread and needles?”

Prism hopped off of her ma, nodding happily, before reaching up as high as her little body could to try and fetch the basket. When she couldn’t quite reach it, she noticed it come alight with a sapphire aura. Turning back toward Sight, Prism insisted softly, “I can get it, ma.” Sight only nodded sagely, knowing she’d moved it enough already. When Prism jumped to just barely catch the basket, she made a muffled ‘see’ to her ma as she brought the basket back.

With her deft hornwork, and Prism’s help to pick the closest colors of thread, Sight had no issue in embroidering a reasonable facsimile of her cutie mark into the plush, and a matching one for the other side. After all, she reasoned, what kind of child’s toy wouldn’t have both cutie marks. When she’d finally finished, she picked the doll up in her magic, moving it like a puppet to bow and thank the ponies for their help. Amused by these antics, Prism played with her mother until the darkness of night signaled that it was time for rest, holding the plush close in her bed.

Feeling her heart warm at the scene gave Sight Ward an idea for a surprise. Sharing the idea to Hammer, he heartily agreed, and started his work. Meanwhile, she carefully snatched the plush away from her sleeping daughter. Placing it in an eldritch circle along with a few basic regents, Sight started to intone complex magical formulae and focused her magic on the plush, lifting it in the air until the enchantment was finished. After a few hours of work from each parent, their plan was complete. Satisfied, they decided to call it a late night, getting ready for morning.

When Prism awoke, she immediately scrambled about looking for her precious plush. Crying out in frustration at her fruitless search, both Hammer and Sight came to ‘find out what happened’. Prism started to break into childhood tears as she explained, “I was sleeping with my ma doll, but she went missing.”

Hammer started to feign looking about the room for the lost toy, while Sight sat next to the distraught filly to comfort her. Pulling her into a tight hug, she spoke with a reassuring tone, “It’s okay, it’s okay. She was a little me, she’ll be fine.” Seeing the signal from Hammer, she gave Prism a small peck on the forehead before continuing, “I mean, if it were me, I’d look for my armor and keep you safe.”

Just then, Hammer gave a bit of a start as he was looking under the bed, “Oh, well would you look at this?” Prism looked confused, but made her way off the bed to look where he pointed. There she saw her doll in a sized set of armor posed with its hoof triumphant on a dust bunny. Prism snatched the plush up to give it a fond hug, and found it gave a soft warmth not unlike the hugs of her own ma. Both her parents responded to her squeal of delight, “Happy birthday, sweet pea!”

Author's Note

Another non-chronological piece, this one takes place well before Prism even enters the university.

Denial

Author's Note

Please note, this begins the "Grief Arc". Readers are advised that this arc contains dark themes.

Denial

Prism leaped in joy at her cutie mark, squealing with delight. Aura, being healed up enough to join her, pulled Prism into a tear filled hug, saying just how much she’d earned it. Eventually it was the cleric who broke up the conversation, speaking with a kind tone as he ushered the two fillies out of his ritual chambers. Barely able to contain her excitement, Prism helped Aura back to her family home before rushing off to tell her parents with a happy spring in her step.

This happy step carried Prism all the way to the carriage train, where she was surprised to be expected. An attendant from the Ward Estate, her mother’s estranged family, was waiting with a dark painted carriage. The attendant, a burly pegasus by the name of Carriage Cruise wearing dark attire, spoke to Prism with a well developed sincere tone, though one tinged with a hint of sorrow, “Miss Prism Ward, your presence is requested at the Ward Estate. Please enter the carriage such that we may make utmost haste to the manor. Your father is already there.”

Seeing the ward family crest, Prism gingerly stepped into the carriage, unsure of what exactly was happening. Her enthusiasm dulled by the strange situation, she looked curiously out the windows as the carriage winded its way to the august manor. It had been many years since she had been to the Ward Estate, having come only once for a celebration of her cousin’s cutie mark. That finally tipped Prism off, obviously her magically inclined relatives knew of her cutie mark and wanted to bring her here to celebrate. Prism was satisfied with her answer, but still couldn’t help a creeping feeling of apprehension as she approached the spiral towers of the mansion.

The Ward Estate was still as unfamiliar now as it had been the first time, a bizarre place of opulence and magic more akin to the Academy than the comfy home attached to the smithy. Perpetual fountains flanked the road as she saw many other carriages lining the drive before the great painted glass of the mansion. It was odd, Prism thought, that her parents would choose this place for her cute-ceañera, considering the history they had with her mother’s family. Prism could feel again that dread, worse even than the looming spectre that she’d faced, a chill tingling that touched her hooves like needles of ice. Dismissing this dread with how families so often came together for a cute-ceañera, Prism left the carriage when cued before the enormous oaken doors. Two more attendants, dressed in similar dark clothes, pulled the doors open with a solemn glance at the nervous filly.

Inside, Prism saw the great hall of the manor, and with it a great many ponies. Most she could recognize as varyingly distant relatives or friends of her parents, especially her mother’s. This made sense, of course, with the locale. Scanning the crowd, Prism could feel her excitement building again in spite of the somber tone of the room, attributing the dark attire as formality. This excitement shot through the roof when she found her pa in the crowd, a couple of older stallions speaking with him. Prism saw that her pa was tired, with a gaunt look about his face and red in his eyes. Her gut twisted in alarm, but still Prism ran up to greet her pa, diving into him with a hug. Normally this resulted in all the give of tackling one of his anvils, but today was different, her pa had practically fallen over before he caught himself and returned the hug, tears welling up as he held Prism tightly.

Prism chose to break the silence as the elder stallions left the two alone, speaking excitedly, “Pa, pa! I came as soon as they got me!”

Hammer pulled her even tighter as she spoke, and began to softly stroke her mane, “I know sweet pea, everyone’s here for you. You’re my brave little filly.”

Trying in vain to pull away and smile to her pa, Prism instead continued, “Thank you pa.”

Hammer continued, doing his best to maintain a modicum of composure, “You’re so brave, we’re going to take good care of you.”

“I can take care of myself, Pa, but I know I won’t have to do it alone.” Prism retorted.

Near to the point of breaking now, Hammer let Prism pull herself away, and spoke to her softly, “Your mother would be so proud of you.”

Prism only seemed confused, looking around excitedly as she ignored the cold feeling in her stomach, “When is she coming?”

Now it was Hammer’s turn to be confused, as any wind he had died from his sails. What little noise in the room there was seemed to fade as he asked Prism a simple question, “Prism, why do you think we’re here?”

“It’s .. for … my cutie mark?” Prism asked innocently, feeling already the great wave of cold washing over her as she showed the mark on her flank to her pa.

This did it, breaking any walls Hammer had left as he cried openly, weeping with great tears and sobs. Prism didn’t understand, she thought her cute-ceañera was supposed to make ponies happy, not cry. Besides, she had not once known her pa to cry. Not knowing what to do, Prism did the only thing she could and hugged her pa once more. He gathered himself and sat Prism down on the stairs so as to be level with him. “I couldn’t be prouder for you sweet pea, but that’s not why we’re here. It’s your ma, she’s … she had an accident on the field. There was some kind of monster, and she saved some ponies, but it got her. Your ma’s in a better place now, and her family buried the hatchet for her arrangements.”

The chill finally overtook Prism, it was too much. She looked out at the hall with eyes now open, ponies in mourning dress filling the place. A bile rose in the back of her mouth as tears streamed from her face. Everything that she’d been told today, everything that had been done for her made sense now. The day had gone from a dream to a nightmare in just a moment. A nightmare. That could be it, she reasoned, what if this all was a trap by that shadow in the catacombs. What if she hadn’t got her cutie mark there and it was all a lie, she and her friend could be in danger in a dark corridor. Of course, if that joy had been real, then the rest of this must be too.

Indeed, the whole situation felt unreal, like she was only watching something happen rather than being a part of it. In this daze, she felt the solidity of her pa’s hoof, saw his tear filled eyes as he led her up the stairs. The crowd seemed to part as if in a dream, and up ahead the two passed through a set of double doors atop the stairs into a smaller room. Prism still couldn’t tell if this was all real or a horrible nightmare, but up ahead she saw something that sealed it. Her ma’s body, lying in a healed repose under holy symbols and the medals she’d won. The room was filled with portraits, tournament prizes and many marks of the gods above.

For a moment, Prism struggled, she didn’t want such a world. Not one where her mother was gone. A world where cruel or apathetic gods had allowed such a thing. A world where she’d never again feel her mother’s embrace. Still, tears fell openly down her face as she fell to the ground before the body sobbing. She couldn’t deny a truth that laid before her.

Hammer put a foreleg over his daughter, cooing as well as he could, “We’ll get through this together, we’ll get through this.”

Anger

The proceedings of the funeral fell into a hazy blur, Prism had never felt smaller or more helpless, regardless of her mark. At her own request as soon as she understood what was happening, her cute-ceañera was to be delayed. The consoling faces of relatives, the offered condolences from so many older ponies, even the precession before the royal palace blurred together. There were two things that stuck hard with the disillusioned Prism, the dedication into the family mausoleum and meeting the ponies who had been the last to see her mother.

After a winding parade through their village, where every pony had come to pay their respects, Prism was there to see her mother’s casket brought into the Canterlot Necropolis. Monuments and gravestones towered over her from every angle, sanctified by countless holy symbols. Each of these ponies had their own story, no doubt, and Prism shuddered to think of how many of these stories had been cut off in this manner. Up ahead, the casket was carried into the Ward family mausoleum, a great monument to the glory of the whole family. On the outside, a unicorn cast a spell on the marble facing, crafting a new statue of the beloved Sight Ward. Its likeness was uncanny, and Prism felt something new inside, a warmth pushing away the malaise like a festering sore.

Before the monument, ponies from all walks of life who had been touched by Sight spoke of her. Her parents, weeping at the years they’d lost, the pettiness that had driven their daughter away from them. Fellow knights, telling tales of her accomplishments and great deeds. Hammer, who could hardly stand before the crowd as he told the tale of how they’d met. Very notable, though, were a couple of earth ponies who weren’t known by any in the crowd.

They walked to the front in their tattered clothes, looking equally worn themselves. It was the stallion who spoke first, a young Mr. Wheat, he told the story of how the two were in their wagon and moving along a road in the wood looking for a good place to homestead when something went wrong. A great monster, some demon of tartarus erupted from the ground before them and attacked the couple. As he began to break up his wife continued the story. As they cowered in their little wagon and cried for help, Sight charged in from the woods with enchanted speed. She told the two ponies to run down the road while she engaged the monster, and so they did. It was not until nearly an hour later that the two returned to the wagon after the knight hadn’t come to get them. There they found Sight, with the demon nowhere in sight, having succumbed to her wounds.

As Prism listened to the story, she expected to be filled with pride and joy for her mother’s sacrifice and how she had followed her code to the end. Indeed, Prism could feel this pride, but there was something else deep down, a voice begging a question, ‘why did this happen?’ While Prism wanted to deny it, these thoughts spawned more, and by the time she had been returned to her bed for the night she was beside herself with this simmering injustice. Her ma had been the protector of the village for many years, yet this stole her away. Why would the gods above allow such a thing? This was wrong, she knew, it wasn’t fair.

By the morning as she went to the academy, the warm spark from earlier had ignited into a flame, and Prism raged in a futile silence. She raged against the world that had taken her ma away from her. She raged against the pitiful looks of those around her. She raged against her emotions so out of control. But above all else, she raged in a silent fury. At lunch her thoughts went to the plush she’d made all of those years ago, which had taken up a home in her stuffed bags alongside her other emergency kit. She pulled out the doll and gave it a heavy hug, feeling none of the warmth the faded enchantment had once provided. This proved a tipping point, as hot tears streamed from her face as she yelled in desperation, uncaring of the ponies all around.

One of these ponies, though, took notice of her. A young unicorn stallion, he stood in the silence as he brushed off his robes with a flick of magic. Two others sitting with him gave small shakes of their heads, their eyes pleading in desperation for him not to cross this line. He sneered the two back into line as he approached Prism with a malevolent eye. His voice to Prism’s ears dripped venom as he looked down on her in mocking sincerity, “Sorry to hear about your mother, Prism.” The filly shot an eye of barely contained rage toward the teal stallion as he continued speaking in that same tone, but Prism couldn’t hear him over her growing rage. Every word from his mouth fanned the flames until finally he crossed the line as he raised her chin with a touch of his magic, “Now how about a smile, huh?”

Something snapped in Prism, as she manifested a weapon, a vicious looking warhammer, in an instant. Before Hex could turn to see it, it had struck him hard against the jaw. The commotion spread like a wave through the common room as ponies backed off from the fight or ran to get teachers. A flash of rage crossed Hex’s eyes as his horn came alight to cast what Prism noted to be one of the accursed enchantments he was so skilled in. In a furious attack, Prism targeted the very manifesting point of the gathering energy, smashing into the stallion’s horn with a mighty blow from the hammer. The cracking thud was heard across the room as Hex lost his concentration, and nearly his horn. His voice slithered through gritted teeth as Prism advanced on him, “You upstart little-” The stallion’s words were interrupted as he found an aura of the raging Prism’s magic surrounding him. Prism yelled with open fury as she threw Hex into the wall, holding him against it with an iron vice of her magic against his tender caster’s throat.

Hex’s fury faded into fear as he realized his predicament, and finally desperation as he began clawing in vain against the force holding his throat shut. Prism was blinded in her fury, having now a target for all that she’d been feeling, a reservoir for all her hate. Something that she could fight. Something that she could destroy. It was only when she was suddenly grabbed from the side that she lost her grip and dropped the poor stallion. Prism looked to find who had done this, only for Aura to pull her tighter into a tear filled hug. She spoke gently, trying to calm her friend, “Prism, this isn’t you. You know that.”

The fire of rage flared in Prism once again as she pushed Aura away. Her fury blinded her thoughts as she shouted now at her best friend, “What do you know? If I was there, maybe she’d still be!” Hot tears started to flow from Prism now too as Aura cowered slightly at her friend’s wrath. “My mom would still be here if I wasn’t saving you!” Silence once again overtook the crowd as Aura started to break down completely. She knew her friend didn’t mean these words, but that didn’t remove the sting. Aura ran away through the crowd as Hex’s friends dragged him away to the nurse, leaving Prism alone when Ace arrived.

Ace didn’t scold her, he didn’t talk down to Prism, he hardly talked to her at all. He simply asked her to tell him what happened in his office. Without the pressure of the crowd, and having gone so far in her fury, Prism started to sob. She hadn’t meant those words, she hadn’t meant any of this. “It’s okay to be angry, Prism. Gods know that I’ve felt it...” Ace spoke with a sage tone, and a look in his eyes that belied his experience in the manner. “Still, we can’t let that control us.” Prism nodded as she wiped away her tears with a heavy handkerchief. Ace seemed satisfied as he moved to the door, “Good to see you got the message, now why don’t you start making things right?” The door opened to reveal Aura, who ran into the room to her friend. Though this time, she was the one being embraced.

Bargaining

After the incident with Aura and Ace’s talk, Prism threw herself into her work at school. She greedily devoured every scroll and book she could get her hooves on, and stayed late at nights classifying and testing magic items. Taking heart in the filly’s returning work ethic, Ace pushed no more and let her proceed. Prism, for her part, couldn’t exactly tell what she was working for, she felt like a confused mess, yet wouldn’t stop working. The tasks, a new scroll or an unknown item, gave her a structure. A purpose rather than the storm of unknowns that roiled inside.

Prism’s work was interrupted one night by a hard knock at the storage door. Pushing herself away from a table of random bits and bobs, the filly dragged her hooves walking toward the door. She found herself quite surprised when she opened it, and not only because it was already dark out, but also by the pony in the doorway. Humbug, one of Hex’s crew stood at the door, his wide frame practically filling the hall. He had an unusually serious face considering his generally simple personality.

Before Prism could ask him to leave he spoke, a sincere sadness dripping from each word, “I, uh, I wanted to say sorry … for Hex.” Prism could hardly believe her ears, none of them had apologized before, least of all Humbug. The bulbous orange unicorn continued none the wiser, “He should have left you alone in the hall … I’m sorry.” Humbug seemed to gather the right words to put together before continuing with effort, “He hasn’t really been that close to anyone, so I don’t think he even knows what it’s like to lose them. It hurt when my pa died,” Dull eyes looked up to Prism hopefully, “but it does get better.” Prism couldn’t place what she was feeling, but something in Humbug’s speech moved her, and she began to shut the door in his wide face before it was stopped by his hoof.

Humbug reached into his bag quickly and withdrew a small scroll which he offered to the filly across the threshold. “Umm, I thought he should make it up to you so I, uh, borrowed this from him.” Too curious for her own good, Prism took the scroll in her grasp as Humbug continued, “You know, he … he wasn’t good at magic before too. It made him really sad, but this made him feel better. Maybe it could help you.” Humbug gave a small smile.

“How did you get this? What’s the catch?” Prism inquired as she tucked the scroll into her robes.

Humbug looked back and forth slyly, before tapping his temple knowingly, “I’m not as think as some ponies dumb I am.” Oblivious to his mistake, Humbug beamed with pride before a shiver traveled up his back. “Uh, no price, just don’t mention I gave you that, right?” As Prism nodded he made his retreat, looking about as if expecting a spy at any moment. Prism, meanwhile, shut the door and bolted it, before making her way to the table with her unexpected gift.

Unraveling the scroll under horn light, Prism immediately noted that it was of eldritch origin, covered in seemingly meaningless symbols and drawings. Arcs swept inside triangles encased in circles and more, the geometry seemed impossible, bending and shifting as Prism studied the paper. It wasn’t until after some time of studying the yellowed slip of paper that Prism finally deduced that it was a scroll written in some other language. Fetching the emergency spectacles of Comprehend Languages from their case, she read the text at least easily, even if she still couldn’t discern its magical meaning.

Under her breath, working through the words in the way she had been taught now for years, Prism pronounced the strange words, not recognizing the alien things her mouth spoke even if she knew the meaning thanks to the spectacles. Her view locked on the paper, she didn’t notice as the lights of the room dimmed one by one, or as the miscelania on the desk formed into the same impossible symbol as on the paper. Prism only finally noticed as she read the last words, and left her horn as the only source of light in the now dark room. Putting down the paper, she looked desperately back and forth, the room fading into a yawning void beyond the dim light of her horn, as if only the desk, paper, and herself existed.

Prism could feel her pulse quicken in the dark, fearing not that she was alone, but that she might not be. Suddenly, her fears were made all too true as a calm voice spoke from behind her, “Well aren’t you interesting?” Prism jumped at the provocation and her horn’s light faded in the shock. Her body flailed about, still turning rapidly to face the threat as her training had taught her. As she did so, she saw them, two brilliant yellow eyes luminous in the darkness all around her, the source of the voice. Prism failed to even muster a scream in her shock, her voice failing her entirely. Seemingly noticing this, the voice continued in an authoritative tone, “Oh, you really are a quiet one aren’t you? All the better to listen. I can tell that you have a lot of promise, you could be very useful.” The pounding of Prism’s pulse nearly drowned out the siren-like voice as it drifted from word to word with an alluring grace, “Of course, I’m getting ahead of myself. What do you want, my little pony?”

Prism was sickened by the situation, every part of her body telling her that something was wrong, that she was in danger. In spite of this, her mind felt under a haze, as she was compelled to answer the question. In a voice hardly above a whisper, she hung her head as she spoke, “I can’t have what I want. I just want things back to normal, I want to go home and have my Ma waiting for me with a hug and a smile, telling me it was a bad dream.” The yellow eyes widened, getting more than they had expected in this compulsion as the filly kept going, tears welling in her eyes. “I want to get her back, even for a moment. I’d stop studying magic, I’d stop fighting, I’d even stay back at the shop for the rest of my days if it meant I could get my Ma back.” Prism shook off the compulsion, wiping her eyes at the things she’d said. She knew they were true, but hearing herself say them changed it all.

As she recovered, she noticed the yellow eyes narrowed into overjoyed slits. The voice spoke with this enthusiasm to Prism, “Well that sounds quite agreeable.” With a flash of light, a spotlight came down just a step away from the crying filly. At its center, a wide smile across her face, was none other than Sight Ward. Beside herself, Prism dived toward her ma, enjoying nothing in the world more than the embrace that she was pulled into. Any effort she’d made to stop her tears was now fruitless, as her ma gently wiped the tears away.

Once again, Prism was rendered speechless, no words could satisfy the moment. Instead, it was Sight Ward who spoke softly to her child, “Come now Sweet Pea, let’s get home.”

Prism nodded tearfully as she stood under her own power again, but with her eyes dry she saw something that made her racing heart stop. She didn’t feel angry, happy, or even sad, it was as if all feeling had fled her body as she noticed the slightest detail. Prism hung her head and spoke in a monotone, “I can’t.”

Sight Ward looked to her daughter perplexed. “Why not, Sweet Pea?” She inquired, drawing in closer she continued, “What’s wrong?”

Despondent, there was nothing but defeat in Prism’s eyes as she looked into her ma’s. In the same dull monotone she continued, “You’re not real.” As the words came, Sight Ward faded into a cloud of shadows, dispersing away. Prism winced in pain before the plain mask took over her face once again.

The two yellow eyes returned, incensed. The same voice spoke, now in a near rage, “Look, even I can’t bring back someone who doesn’t want to. That’s the best you’re getting, take it or leave it kid!” The world started to tremble and shake in the rumbling voice.

Prism couldn’t muster rage to match the voice, even at what it had done. Her feelings were numb, a wash of grey had frozen her heart. Instead her response resonated from an empty chest, “If ma doesn’t want to come back, she’s staying.” Prism looked up to meet the eyes, any shine in her own gone, “It’s like I said, I can’t have what I want.”

The livid fury of the voice was gone as it seemed to accept defeat for the time, “Oh well, it sounds like I win this one anyway. Maybe next time, my little pony.” Prism jolted awake on her desk, her eyes bolting open as she drew a sharp breath. Even still, looking at the scroll before her she had no doubt of the legitimacy of what had happened.

Prism walked away from the desk and started her late trek homeward. Dark city streets and night carriages surrounded the filly as she walked. In her head she juggled many questions. Why didn’t her ma come back, was she not good enough? Who did she just speak to and when would next time come? Why had this all happened to her? And most important of all, why couldn’t she muster even the barest scrap of emotion away from this numbness? Finally, Prism dismissed all of these, and didn’t think of anything at all as the carriage left its post.

Depression

Ever so slowly, the carriage worked its way down the mountainside. It being so late, there were no others inside, leaving Prism in a peculiar situation. Normally she preferred personal space, if not isolation, but now was different. She felt alone, in a sense greater than merely the carriage ride. Some small part of her cried out like a straggler adrift at sea, bringing to mind her friends and family. Yet, in spite of this Prism felt hollow and alone.

A creeping sensation of dread overcame her, not a fear of the dark surrounding her, but a more primal thing. She felt truly terrible, a seed of woe spreading roots through apathy in her heart, and now there was no one around. Even the carriage driver seemed a world away, a mesh of wood that might as well be a mountain range. No one was there to blame, no one was there to help.

Prism came the closest to lucidity since entering the blur of the carriage as she realised that wasn’t entirely true. After all, she was still there. If here, alone, she felt such misery, then it couldn’t be the fault of anyone else, the filly’s mind reasoned. A sensation finally overcame the numbness of her body as the carriage came to a stop at the empty station: a harsh pain in her chest, like the sharp stab of a knife.

Clutching at her chest, Prism stumbled out of the carriage, her senses blurring at the agony. She tried to cry out, to yell in pain, but her weak voice failed her like everything else had. Distantly, Prism thought she heard the driver, perhaps some of the guards of the station fussing toward her. Yet beyond that, Prism saw something clearly in the moonlight darkness of the night forest, a light dancing in between the trees.

As Prism beheld the light, she felt a desire to come closer to it, a faint and familiar scent coming to her nose. As her nose twitched at the smell, Prism felt her pain abide by a degree. Thus, still reeling in pain, the filly ran past the ponies trying to help her and into the dark of the forest. Afraid of the forest or assuming she knew what she was doing, not one of the ponies followed, at best resolving to call for a knight.

Meanwhile, Prism followed the entrancing light further away from the path, the scent now starting to resemble something more specific: the flowers in their garden back home. The pain continued to subside, a cold numbness slowly crawled up the filly’s hooves, but she found this preferable to hurting.

Finally, Prism found the source of the light, a small clearing in the dense forest up ahead. The clearing held many mounds and large rocks, but the whole floor was densely covered in vivid blue flowers that opened to the moonlight. In the center of the clearing shone the light, a beacon of gathered moon beams that lit the whole clearing.

A smile gathering on her lips, Prism felt none of the pain that had plagued her earlier, only a numb peace. In the distance, she thought she heard a call for her name, but she paid it no mind as she stepped into the grove, awash in its tranquil nothing. The smell of the flowers was intoxicating, and with the moon above, Prism curled down on the soft bed of flowers and slowly shut her eyes, even the cold fading in sensation from her body as her thoughts drifted away.

A snapping noise would rouse Prism from the start of her slumber. One snap was followed by another, until there was a great cacophony from the darkness of the forest. Prism opened her eyes to the concern, but couldn’t muster the will to do more than half heartedly turn her head toward the sound, shaking off many thin vines and stalks of flowers that had fallen into and through her mane.

There she saw the flowers were on top of her as well, but she wasn’t concerned. Not truly happy either, just accepting. ‘Like a blanket,’ Prism thought mildly, ‘I think I’ll go back to sleep now.’ Yet she was interrupted by yet more crashing and movement, in the forest. Some small part of her mind began to feel concern, a worry perhaps? It was distant, like a half remembered dream, but she felt that perhaps she shouldn’t be here.

It was when she spotted a shape in the trees moving steadily toward her that this fear began to develop more. Suddenly she started to remember all the stories of how dangerous the forest could be, and of the monsters that lurked in it. Monsters that would be all too happy to snatch up a filly like her. Prism’s heart started to race as she moved to stand and found herself incapable. Her body simply didn’t, couldn’t move. Prism started to panic, screaming as best her frail voice could against her better judgement.

Breaths came quickly and ragged as the dark shape approached, knocking aside underbrush in its path toward her. Prism’s fear was finally too much as she simply closed her eyes and held still, hoping that it might miss her among the flowers. Great was her surprise when the stomping stopped and she heard a gruff voice speak softly, “No, pleasepleaseno.”

Prism’s questions were answered when her Pa lifted her head softly, her eyes opening and a smile crossing her face for a moment. Tears filled his eyes, redness in them showing that they weren’t the first. He spoke first with winded and broken words, “I heard … and I thought …” Wiping away his tears he tried to regain composure and try again, “Don’t go scaring me like that.” He tried to pull Prism into an embrace, but was denied by the same bed of flowers that had stopped her movement before, even his earth pony strength surpassed by these mere flowers. Prism tried to struggle before a pallid look of recollection passed Hammer’s face, “Mourning Glories,” he muttered with a grave tone.

He brushed Prism’s mane to calm her struggles, “I’m so sorry Sweet Pea, this has been hard on both of us.” Looking with pride, he continued, “You’ve been so brave, my little knight, but it’s okay to let yourself be sad.” Hammer looked about him, around the glade, “It’s the only way to move on.”

Prism wanted to deny it, she wanted to not hurt, but she couldn’t anymore. The two stayed in the grove until morning, finally grieving together. They told stories of Sight Ward, and discussed openly how they had dealt with the passing. The family of two resolved to traditions to keep her memory, and to new things so they could move on. When the first rays of light greeted them from the dawn, the flowers closed in the clearing, and the ones over Prism had vanished.

The two walked back through the forest to their home, and Prism looked up to her Pa. “How’d you know what those were, how’d you know what to do?”

Hammer smiled down at his precious daughter, “I lived by this forest all my life, I’ve seen the Mourning Glory take more than a few ponies. I’m just glad we were able to find you.” He looked out over the morning sun’s light on the village, as they’d finally left the forest. Seeing their home in the distance he continued, “Besides, I told you we’ll get through this.”

Prism smiled happily as she followed to her bed and a well needed rest. She hadn’t stopped missing her Ma, and she never would, but now she had started to move on.

Acceptance

Months had passed, and wounds had healed, yet Prism found herself walking toward the great mausoleum. The path meandered like a sluggish river through the monuments and stones, but in spite of Prism’s silent stride, she was not alone. Opal Aura walked with her friend, staying respectfully quiet. Both fillies had changed in these past months, learning and growing with each other.

Prism came to a halt before the great stone doors of the crypt, murmuring one side of a conversation under her breath. Her head hung low, but slowly lifted as she finished, wiping away the start of a few tears. Aura put her foreleg over Prism’s shoulder, comforting her friend. For some time, neither spoke or moved, as still as the statues that surrounded them. Prism finally broke the hushed quiet as she spoke, “She’d be proud, I know it. I just wanted to tell her.”

Her face beaming with an empathetic smile, Aura agreed with her friend, “As she well should be. Let’s get going, we don’t want to be late.” Prism nodded her agreement and the two started back toward Aura’s home.

As they approached the august estate, both quickly noticed the lines of carriages around the small grounds. By far the largest home in the village, it was still packed to the brim. Prism tensed subtly, and Aura noticed her hesitation, “It’s alright, we’re all here for you.” A silent nod was her response, the nerves working their magic on the young unicorn. “I know, let’s take the back door.”

The two fillies raced around the grounds, Prism keeping pace with Aura to not leave her behind, but still clearly holding the high ground. As they approached the back door, Aura slowed down breathing heavily. When Prism stopped to check on her, she spoke with ragged breaths, “You know ... that weighted running did you some good.” Prism beamed proudly as Aura continued, “But … I found a new spell a while back … Guess which one?”

Prism puzzled in confusion for a moment before Aura overtook her in a blur of movement. Doing her best to catch up, Prism managed a (not so) close second. “Was the Expeditious Retreat necessary?” she chided playfully.

“Only way I was gonna beat you,” came Aura’s response, still catching her breath as she knocked on the door. The door was answered by a very put upon looking Earth Pony, who looked surprised at the fillies, then seemed to switch in an instant to a fury.

Her high voice bellowed at the two fillies, “Do you have any idea what time it is? You’re almost late...”

Aura interrupted, giving a small pout, one which Prism quickly saw and joined. “I’m so sorry Nanny, we lost track of time. Can we come in and get dressed for the ceremony?” Succumbing to the looks of the fillies, Nanny smiled softly and let them in with a chuckle to herself at the troubles of youth.

The two split off, Aura to her room and Prism to the guest wing to the room that had been prepared. When she reached the room, Prism was surprised to see her Pa waiting for her, pacing back and forth. He spoke briefly as he moved in front of a covered rack of some kind, “You really need to stop worrying me like this, sweet pea.” Prism gave her excuses before asking what the rack was.

“Well,” Heavy beamed with pride, “It wouldn’t do for the daughter of a blacksmith to go around in some shoddy, mismatched armor. Besides, I owe you a cute-ceañera present!” With this, he pulled the covering cloth from an armor rack, bearing a beautiful set of full plate armor. Stars filled Prism’s eyes as her words failed to express her gratitude. Seeing the sputtering of his daughter, Heavy settled for a warm hug before offering to help her don the heavy armor.

Practically slipping into his voice of business, Heavy continued to speak as he helped Prism with the various straps and plates of steel. “Of course, this’ll need to be fitted as you grow into it, but once you’re about done growing, there’s another set that you should be wearing.”

Prism suddenly turned to her Pa at that, “You mean…”

“Aye,” he continued, “You know that she’d want you to wear it, and we’d both want you to be as safe as can be.” Satisfied with the last of the body plates in place, he passed Prism the helmet. “I’ll be waiting out there sweet pea, and I want you to know how proud I am.” With this he left the room, and Prism put on the helmet.

Adjusting to the weight and feel of the armor, Prism immediately noted just how safe and secure she felt. In armor like this, it was like she could take on the armies of the world, a crowd wouldn’t stop her. She had been working her way up with different armors for some time now as her preparation and training continued, but this full plate was without exaggeration the best that she had worn.

Feeling a calling, as if from deep inside, Prism concentrated her will and let her magic flow. Before her formed a glorious earthbreaker, made of pure force of will. This was her weapon, this would be how she would protect the innocent and destroy the wicked. Smiling inside the hard steel of her helmet, she allowed the weapon to dissipate and moved toward the great hall for the ceremony.

Approaching from the covered balcony, she saw rows of ponies in seats and standing, and the thrones at the head of the room. Relatives, friends, teachers, even knights from distant parts of Equestria were together here. Gathering herself with a deep breath, Prism moved forward into the aisle with steady steps. As soon as she entered the room, a thunderous sound of applause rang through the hall as ponies stomped their hooves on the ground. This cacophony greeted the armored filly as she walked down the aisle.

At the end of the hall, she saw Aura alongside her parents, the Lord and Lady Aura, awaiting her with warm smiles. Dressed in all the formal wear becoming of their position, if not their province, it was a truly stunning sight. Even still, Prism made her way to the front, where Aura greeted her in a formal bow, which she responded with in kind. While both had their heads down, Aura whispered to Prism, “You look great! I think you’re supposed to take the helmet off though.”

Now able to feel her cheeks blushing with warmth, Prism regretted that she’d have to remove the helmet as the two stood from their bowing. Giving another bow to each of the parents, Prism noted that they bowed less in return than her friend, but thought little of it as she removed her helmet and placed beside her on the ground.

Next she turned to face the crowd as the Lord Aura spoke, his voice booming with authority, “The mare before you, Prism Ward, seeks to be named a Knight of Equestria.” The crowd gave a small cheer before being settled by a gesture the Lord, “Her lineage speaks for itself, the Ward Clan has been honorable and respected for generations. Who may speak of her deeds?”

Opal Aura stepped forward, beside Prism, and spoke to the crowd, “I would tell stories of her valor and chivalry.” A nod from the Lord Aura let his daughter continue. “This mare is my closest friend, she has always put others before herself and protected those who could not defend themselves. When she faced a shadow and saved my life I knew beyond any doubt that Prism Ward is worthy to be a knight!”

A great cheer overcame the crowd, once again settled by the Lord Aura, as he continued, “What say you then, Knights of Equestria?” He spoke this toward the section of the crowd where the knights were gathered, and watched as they rose to their hooves.

The knights spoke in chorus, “We accept!” Remembering her rehearsal, Prism now spun to face the Lord Aura. Yet, surprising her, he shook his head lightly and gestured toward Opal, who had an excited grin that she could hardly contain. Prism couldn’t hide her glee as she turned toward her friend and knelt her head.

Opal spoke formally to the audience and to Prism as well, “Do you, Prism Ward, swear to uphold and defend Equestria, its ponies, and the Harmony for which we stand?”

“Yes.” Came Prism’s reply, hardly audible past the first row, but understood by all.

“Do you, Prism Ward, swear to live with honor as a Knight of Equestria for the rest of your days?” Opal continued, her confidence unflappable in the crowded room.

“Yes.” Came Prism’s reply, pushing her voice with her conviction.

“Then,” Opal spoke, drawing forth a ceremonial sword forged by a proud father in the audience, “It is my honor to name you Prism Ward, Knight of Equestria!” She finished this tapping Prism’s shoulders with the weapon.

Prism stood from her bow to the uproarious applause of the audience. In this moment, unlike most any other, the crowd did not scare her, and she felt a warm comfort watching over her, a presence that she knew was her mother’s love and pride. It had been difficult, and she had struggled, but now Prism could make the world a safer place as a Knight of Equestria.

Author's Note

Now we finally reach the end of the Grief Arc, with another major development, Prism's Knighting!

Captive Audience (Future)

The lines at the bank were long and arduous, and Prism could only wait patiently for her turn in the crowd. Species from all around the system were here, as it was the nearest bank to exchange currency for the spaceport, something Prism needed to do as well since the tellers for the spaceport refused gold pieces as payment. Setting aside her feelings of the matter, Prism was simply waiting her turn when she noticed something out of the ordinary.

Three humanoids wore bizarre masks as they entered the bank with large bags on their backs. Two of the figures put restraining bolts on the exit doors as the third drew forth a large ballistic weapon with a wide drum and fired it into the air, startling most in the room with its thunderous rat-tat-tat. The man then spoke in a synthesized voice, demanding that customers hit the ground as his men went to them and took their credits and currency. The two other humanoids drew their own weapons and began going around the crowd while the leader made his way to the back of the bank, and its cred-safe.

Prism saw the other customers complying with the orders, and she kneeled as well, not wanting to risk others getting hurt. The robbers worked their way through the customers, opening their bags and demanding their currencies. When one reached Prism, though, he stalled for a moment. Even with a mask covering his face, Prism still recognized his confusion. Putting the safety of her fellows before her goods, Prism levitated the gold pieces into his bag and nodded gently as he continued down the line, still glancing back at the armored visage once or twice.

Eventually, more movement started at the door, and Prism heard the distant sound of the thieves debating with themselves. Looking toward the entrance, she saw the reason, planetary police. Analyzing the situation, Prism could see that the thieves were holding them as hostages, and had now lost their escape route, something had to be done. Thus, she put her plan into action.

One of the robbers was pacing back and forth, pointing his gun at the crowd to make sure they wouldn’t try anything. As he approached, Prism spoke up, “Um, pardon me, mister bank robber?” As the robber looked around for the source of the voice, Prism raised her head to show that it was her. He moved closer to better hear her, “Is it okay if I stand? This old armor isn’t made for laying down.”

“Are you some kind of crazy?” Asked the robber, drawing closer and aiming his weapon at the pony. “I don’t know where you’re getting off with this ren-faire stuff, but you try anything and I’ll pop a cap through that nice helmet of yours.”

Prism lowered her head, casting her eyes to the side as she glanced the second robber checking on the first in the back room, leaving this one alone. “I’m sorry about that,” Prism spoke, lowering her voice even more as the crook drew closer out of habit to hear, “but someone has to try something.” Prism punctuated this with a hard pull on the gun with her magic, tearing it out of the man’s hand. A pale look overcame his face as he realized what happening, his stunned silence provided Prism the opportunity to speak once more, she indicated toward the police barricading outside the door, “You sit down and stay quiet, and you’ll get out of this alive too.” The thief complied, as his fear of the police and unarmed status put him at a clear disadvantage. As he sat, Prism withdrew some rope from her bag and tied the man up in it, being sure to gag him as well.

Making her way swiftly toward the back room, Prism looked toward the police at the door and gestured for them to wait, not wanting a firefight with the civilians. This evoked looks of disbelief from the police as they even still decided to follow the advice. Prism set to work, spreading a pot of glue from her bag over the floor outside the backroom door and putting a small candle on a desk nearby. Inside, Prism could hear the two robbers drilling into the safe, apparently needing to reset the drill repeatedly.

Taking advantage of a momentary silence inside the room, Prism’s horn glowed with a brilliant light as she flung a smoke stick at the door, knocking on it as it created a growing cloud of smoke, Prism’s candle still visible through the haze. Prism readied herself near the door as one of the robbers opened it, coughing in the smoke as he waved his gun back and forth. Eyeing the distant light with suspicion, the robber stepped toward the light. After he tried to take his second step, he noticed that his foot was stuck.

Acting quickly, Prism slammed the door shut with a glow of magic and stuck a heavy looking piton into the door itself, sealing it tight as she stepped forward. The robber moved to fire his gun at the now revealed unicorn, but Prism responded to his open guard with a clobbering strike from her hammer, incapacitating the thief as his head slammed against the door.

Inside the back room, the drill had stopped, no doubt the leader realizing what was happening. Prism knew she’d need to approach the situation delicately, as the leader would be cornered and was likely as not to spray at the door once it opened. Moving toward the workers, she apologized softly to the terrified tellers as she borrowed their desks, lifting them easily with her magic and turning them upright. Three desks later, with the unconscious robber moved, Prism had hemmed in the door such that there wouldn’t be any spray toward the crowd. Satisfied, she lit another smokestick and held it in her mouth as she removed the piton gently.

Throwing open the door, Prism dropped the smokestick inside, igniting her hammer with magical energy. The leader was terrified, and opened wild fire on Prism, her armor deflecting the few shots that managed to graze her with ease. Her entrance made, Prism simply stepped forward to the leader of the bank robbers, and raised her earthbreaker. She spoke now, lightly as ever, “Surrender now. Kneel or be knelt.”

Rapidly analyzing his options, and the ominously glowing weapon aimed at his face, the leader of the bank robbers dropped his gun, defeated. Prism dropped a lasso around him, and brought the whole gang forward to the waiting police. Officers congratulated the armored unicorn, taking the gang into custody and moving to clean up the scene.

Winding down, the owner of the bank made his way to thank Prism for her efforts, asking if there would be anything that he could do for her. “I was just doing what was right.” Thinking for a moment, Prism continued, withdrawing the bits that had been returned to her, “Although, if you could exchange these bits, I’d appreciate it.”

Hex

A sharp pain awoke the unicorn, his whole body jolting at the sudden shock. Eyes wide, Hex looked around his pitiful room, already knowing what his search would find. A ramshackle room in a forgotten corner of an abandoned building, the place looked ready to fall apart as ever. The warm furs and threadbare blankets he’d wrapped himself in represented the only soft and welcoming things in the place. A tattered curtain struggled in vain to keep out the morning light from a crack in the wall he’d affectionately named a window. Steady drops of water fell from some unseen corner of the room, threatening to tarnish his few belongings.

Hex continued his scan until finally coming eye to eye with a small pale serpent. Though it said nothing, the snake maintained its unblinking gaze on Hex, who for his part could see something deeper in the black pits of eyes. Smiling slightly, Hex spoke to the snake casually, as one would a friend, “Yeah, suppose it’s time to get up isn’t it Mord.” The snake’s continued silence gave all the answer it needed as Hex arose from his wrappings.

Cracked but still usable, a mirror rested in one corner of the room. Standing to see his reflection, Hex began to dress himself, a wrinkled and dirty school robe being thrown over his thin body to keep out the cold wind. Nodding at his reflection, and the ever-present serpent watching along with him, Hex’s horn came alight. In a flurry of Prestidigitation, the uniform was perfectly pressed and clean, as if it were new.

Coming closer to the mirror as magic slicked back his mane, Hex saw again the scrap of paper in the corner. How ironic, that a scrap of parchment could so utterly frustrate him and yet also drive his every success. Barely visible in long faded ink on the worn paper was part of an elegant illustration of a tree, connecting cutie marks in a series. At the top, Hex’s own crooked star.

A piece of paper stolen away from a great tome, it was one of few things Hex had when he ran from home so long ago. Such a humble place would be only a point of shame for the proud unicorn, and thus he had left them behind. Indeed, the lies he’d made for his private life were far more befitting the stature he would doubtless gain.

Tracing up again, as he had countless times, Hex moved past the parents who he’d long since forgotten the faces of. He continued past a generation he had never known, and more. There, at the root of this tree, partial though it was, his lip curled up as he found the most famous cutie mark in Equestrian Magic. His direct ancestor, Starswirl the Bearded.

Enormous pride swelled in Hex. Pride of his ancestry, his birthright. Yet, as always, this feeling of pride was overwhelmed with another. Shame, jealousy, wretchedness, these feelings overcame Hex as surely as the viper climbing up his body. Its eyes had not broken contact with his, the light of the room fading as surely as the darkness of the snake’s wicked eyes. It would be Hex that would lose this test of will, lowering his eyes and bowing his head just as he had for all these years.

A descendent of Starswirl, he should have been a master wizard, a supreme sorcerer, instead he struggled with basic cantrips. His mighty blood thundered with magic, but Hex couldn’t release it. Not until He came. He knew of Hex’s struggles, and offered a solution, one with a simple price. Only a fool would turn it down.

Hex looked in the mirror proudly, the serpent coiled in his robes trustfully guiding his magic. He taught lessons no mortal could, and He taught them to Hex alone. Hex would rise to the greatness of his ancestry. Indeed, he would surpass it, He would make sure of that. Feeling flush with his magic prepared, Hex smiled at his reflection. Not the reflection of an archmage or a high-sorcerer, yet, but certainly the reflection of a mighty mage nonetheless.

Lost and Found (Future)

Prism walked through the crowded halls of Miracle Station’s market quarter, clad as ever in her heavy armor. The pounding of the smiths and the harsh smell of their smoke brought her a peace of mind, and reminded her of home. Among the clamor, though, the knight heard another soft sound. Maneuvering through the crowd toward the noise, Prism found its source in an alleyway, a crying little filly who’d found herself lost. The filly had a mint green coat with a turquoise mane curled tightly, but her eyes were red from sobbing. Not loud enough to be heard from the busy street, Prism was happy that she’d caught the soft sound as she approached.

“Are you lost?” Prism asked, approaching softly. Startled by the armored stranger, the filly jerked back, eyes wide with curiosity at the shiny steel pony. Trying to settle the frightened filly down, Prism took off her helmet slowly, giving a warm smile. Seeing the filly calm, Prism repeated herself, “Are you lost?” The filly nodded silently, and ran toward Prism. She leaned down toward the lost filly, putting her helmet away. “Let’s get you home.”

Stifling how vulnerable she felt without a helmet, Prism kept the filly by her side in the crowd as they moved to a map kiosk, looking out for any ponies on the way. As they approached, a tap on her armor got Prism’s attention, “Why do you have that armor?” The filly asked curiously, her wonder overcoming the fear of the situation.

Prism smiled at the little filly’s sincerity, “That’s because I’m a knight of Equestria!”

Stars filled the fillies’ eyes as her jaw dropped. “You’re a knight?!”

A light laugh came to Prism as she introduced herself to the filly. “That’s right. I’m Prism Ward, Knight of Equestria.”

The filly gave a small salute, “I’m Wintergreen, I can’t believe I get to meet a knight!”

Having reached the map, Prism asked Wintergreen to point where her parents lived, only to receive a shameful look down in response. Understanding that face, Prism gave the filly a soft pat on the shoulder. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Just show me where you live.” Wintergreen pointed at a building on the map nearly on the other side of the station. “Well,” Prism started, “Looks like we’ll need one of those shuttles.”

In practically no time the pair had walked to the shuttle station and boarded toward Wintergreen’s home district in the poor quarter. Once aboard, the shuttle lifted off showing a picturesque view of the sprawling Miracle Station. Prism noticed a reluctance in Wintergreen as the shuttle lifted off. “Are you afraid of flying Wintergreen?” Prism asked softly.

“N-no, I’m just cold is all.” Wintergreen lied, a bad bluff. Prism pulled off her warm cloak and draped it over the filly’s shoulders.

“We should take care of that then.” Prism smiled at Wintergreen, one which was soon returned as the filly settled into the oversized cloak. “Of course,” Prism continued, “It’s okay if you are scared, I know I am.” Wintergreen had a look of bewilderment on her face, utter disbelief. “Even a knight can get scared. We’re brave because we keep going.”

Wintergreen nodded, taking on the advice as a warm smile clung on her face. The shuttle soon reached its destination, and the two ponies walked side by side to their destination. After a moment of silence, Wintergreen spoke up shamefully, “Ms. Prism, I didn’t just get lost today, I ran away.”

Feigning ignorance, Prism listened sagely to the filly’s confession. “Why did you do that?”

“I wanted to go on an adventure,” answered Wintergreen, voice cracking, “I wanted to go do something with myself, but they wouldn’t let me, so I started coming back and got lost.” Tears started to form in the young pony’s eyes again, “Some adventurer I turned out to be-” She was interrupted by a firm hug from the armored knight.

“I appreciate that you’re telling me this, I appreciate seeing your honesty.” Prism comforted the filly, releasing the hug and looking her in the eye. “You have to understand, adventuring is dangerous. If you aren’t trained right, you’ll get yourself hurt or worse.” Noticing an acknowledging nod from the filly, Prism continued. “But, if you have a good heart and are ready to put in the practice, Equestria will need more knights. And maybe someday I’ll need a squire, if you would be interested.”

Wintergreen was overjoyed at the thought and literally jumped with joy repeating her affirmation. Prism hardly managed to settle her down long enough to get back to the jerry-built orphanage that Wintergreen called home. Settling a few terms, Wintergreen agreed to stay on best behavior, and be a good example. For her part, Prism set aside a part of her week to visit Wintergreen, and would start reviewing the most basic elements of training.

Leaving the orphanage, Prism felt a warmth in her heart. The idea of passing on what she knew, even if it depended on the filly passing snuff, excited her. Even still, she couldn’t help but feel a heavy weight on her shoulders. Years of tradition risked ending with her, but this could be a chance to carry them on. No matter how slim, Prism had to take it.

Dance of the Knight

The day had started like many others, with Prism and Aura taking the carriage up to the school in the morning. Even still, Prism could sense a tension from Aura as her friend fidgeted in the seat, worse yet she hadn’t spoken. Trying to figure out her friend’s discomfort, Prism noticed a few strange things. Not only had Aura freshly done her mane, a soft scent of chrysanthemum found its way to Prism, who smiled at the scent of her favorite flower.

Unable to deduce why her friend was nervous this fine morning, or why she had been so uncharacteristically reticent, Prism finally admitted defeat and asked. “Aura, is something on your mind?” The quiet question seemed to startle Aura somehow, snapping her away from the silent daze.

A hint of a blush grew across Aura’s face as she responded, “Oh, it’s nothing.” Flashing an insincere smile at her friend, she was met only with a skeptical eyebrow from Prism. It took all of a second before Aura finally cracked under the pressure, “Okay okay, but promise not to laugh.” Both young mares crossed their hearts with their hooves and nodded silently in a gesture long practiced. Satisfied, Aura continued, her voice rushing, “The thing is, my family is going to this ball, and I’m supposed to bring somepony to dance with. If I don’t bring my own partner I’d have to dance with this gross colt from Trottingham because our parents like each other. I know you don’t like crowds, but would you please go with me?”

Prism could hardly believe what she’d heard. She couldn’t handle pressure like that, and was ready to respectfully decline, until she saw Aura’s face. Her friend was awaiting her response with bated breath. In that instant she understood how much it meant to Aura that she come, “Only for you, Aura.” No sooner had the response come than Prism found herself wrapped in a tight hug from Aura, who wasted no time filling her in on the details.

Double Stitch groaned at the fidgeting filly that she was fitting. “No, sweetie, for the last time I don’t have anything more protective. It’s a dress, not armor.” Prism opened her mouth to speak, but was immediately interrupted, “I know it’s heavy and uncomfortable, but it’s still not armor, just fashion.” Pouting slightly with disappointment, Prism did her best to cooperate for the rest of the fitting.

Hammer, who’d been sitting in the corner of the tailor shop posed his own question to Prism. “So, you said you needed this dress for a dance your friend asked you to?” Prism nodded very slightly, not wanting to disturb Mrs. Stitch. “Alright, alright...” Hammer continued, “Say, how much longer will this take?”

This question earned him a scolding look from Mrs. Stitch, who hissed back, “Mr. Hammer, I’d expect more patience from a stallion that works with armor fittings. I assure you that fashion demands at least as much precision and care. Especially with such short notice.” Satisfied with her fitting, a flare of magic engulfed the seamstress’s horn, closing all the seams at their precise and perfect measurements.

Prism looked herself up and down in the mirrors, loving the draping flow of the fabric, the way its subtle colors accented her mane and eyes. She couldn’t help but smile at the beautiful dress, but even still she felt exposed and vulnerable. Then she had an idea, remembering a spell from her studies.

One trip to the wand shop (and a very convincing argument to her Pa) later, Prism was the proud owner of a wand of Mage Armor. Invisible, it wouldn’t ruin the look of the dress even as it protected her. While not on the level of real armor, it could at least give her the sense of mind. It’s only weakness would be that she may need to reapply. Thinking of something she’d seen some students use, Prism pulled the back of her mane into a bun with a twist of magic, holding it together with the wand. Hammer laughed at seeing this display, but complemented Prism for her forward thinking as they finished preparations.

Prism was expecting a crowd, but this was above and beyond that. It looked like nearly every noble family in Equestria was present. Taking deep breaths, Prism forced herself into the great ballroom, limbs shaking subtly with her nerves. As she looked around, lost in the posh crowd, Prism was startled enough to jump as Aura greeted her from behind. “Thanks so much for coming, you look great!”

Acting halfway on instinct, Prism turned rapidly in a near panic, but stopped as soon as she saw Aura. Her friend had pulled out the stops, dressed from horn to tail in an elegant gown. Happy to find a familiar face, Prism composed herself and gave a soft bow as she remembered the formality of the evening, “The pleasure is mine-”

Prism was suddenly interrupted by Aura lifting her from the bow with a chuckle, “You don’t have to bow to your partner, silly.” While she was a touch embarrassed by her blunder, Prism looked around only to find that nopony had been watching, all too consumed in their own conversations or dances.

“You really do look great, though.” Prism confided in Aura as they moved to get some hors devours. Even here at the event itself, Prism could notice that something was different about Aura, in this context. Everything about her friend was normally very composed, and indeed she was composed outwardly here as well, but there was something off.

Aura accepted the compliment gratefully, “Thanks, I’m glad you like it, it took me forever to get just right.” As the two walked around the dance floor, their conversation turned between topics, telling old stories, talking about families, and even discussing their plans for the future.

Eventually, as the moon started to grow high in the sky, Aura leaned in close for a question, “Prism, I’ve been meaning to ask, do you know how to dance? We don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I’m supposed to make an appearance on the floor.”

Prism had been growing more comfortable in the crowd as the night had endured, ignoring the crowd in favor of her friend, but even still the prospect of the dance floor scared her. “Well, my Ma taught me how to dance, but I’m not sure with this many ponies…”

Aura gave a sweet smile of understanding, but then looked deep into Prism’s eyes, “Don’t even worry about them, just keep your eyes on mine.” Prism did as her friend suggested, and the rest of the room seemed to fade away as she was lost in Aura’s sapphire eyes. She had never really looked at them so deeply before, or realized how beautiful they were.

Looking in each other’s eyes, Aura led the two young mares onto the dance floor, where they began to dance as the band played a new song. Starting with a mutual bow, the two ponies danced together as if practiced, interchanging between lead and follow, moving around the room in a masterful display. The song came to an end as Prism dipped Aura low, sweeping her off her hooves with a pull of magic. For a golden moment, the two smiled with satisfaction at their performance and with each other.

Then, a round of applause began to thunder through the ballroom, drawing Prism’s attention to see her nightmare. Every single pony in the room had been watching their dance, with the other dancers leaving the floor to join the spectators. Prism froze, hardly able to keep enough control to set Aura down gently. Able to see the young mare’s discomfort, many in the crowd stopped their applause, but it wasn’t enough as Prism made her way to the nearest exit, galloping into the moonlit gardens.

Aura followed her friend, finding Prism desperately trying to compose herself at a stone bench away from the window, overlooking a clear pond that reflected the full moon. “I’m so sorry,” Prism choked out, “I ruined your party.”

Aura sat next to her friend on the bench, putting a hoof lightly on her shoulder. “No no no, that’s impossible Prism,” Aura consoled, “You’ve been the best part of this whole party, just like you’re the best part of my day.”

Prism wiped her eyes dry and looked to her friend once again with a small smile. “Thank you Aura, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” she intoned softly. “I do have one question though,” Prism perked up as she looked to Aura sincerely, “Was there really a Trottingham colt?”

Her face scrunching involuntarily, Aura started to laugh at her ruse being discovered, quickly being joined by Prism. Doubling over onto each other, the two mares had never felt closer on that stone bench under the moonlight.

After they shared their laugh, Aura took a deep breath, as she visibly steeled herself. Looking into the moon’s reflection seemed to give the last touch of strength she needed as she spoke with a nervous tone, “Prism, you really helped me tonight, so I wanted to give you something to show just how much you mean to me.”

Perplexed by her friend’s sudden shift, Prism decided it’d be best to play along. “If you say so, where is it?” She looked around, trying to find this unexpected gift.

Taking another deep breath, Aura spun to face Prism on the bench. “It is here, but it’s a surprise. You have to close your eyes.” Her tone sounded even more nervous now, but Prism obliged, closing her eyes shut tight.

As her world went dark, thoughts raced through Prism’s head on what was happening, on the night so far, especially on their dance. Still, as the seconds ticked by with her eyes closed, she could hear Aura moving next to her, ever so slightly. The anticipation seemed unbearable as seconds practically stretched into eternity. Finally, Prism felt something peculiar, a warm wind interrupting the light cold of the night around her muzzle. It took a moment for Prism to decipher what this could be, and by the time she did, all her thoughts were interrupted.

Feeling a soft pair of lips on her own, Prism couldn’t help but open her eyes, seeing Aura’s own closed. The rush of thoughts in Prism’s head stopped like a river over a waterfall, leaving only her happiness in this moment, as she returned the unexpected kiss. Their lips locked, Prism was surprised by the rush of feeling that overcame her with the sweet kiss. Though it may have lasted only an instant, it felt like a blessed eternity, the unicorn’s horns coming alight with their unbridled joy.

Finally, the two pulled away, now both opening their eyes, and each seeing their own happy surprise reflected. With their own lights joining that of the full moon’s reflection, the two mares simply smiled widely and moved closer together, leaning on each other as they enjoyed the stars.

Adrift (Future)

Silently, the ship glides through the void of space. Silver sides reflect the distant stars, bouncing away their light into the uncaring void. Inside, the silence is broken by alarming sirens. Creatures run back and forth in haste, trying to stop the ship’s fate. Meanwhile, one figure doesn’t rush, instead standing out of the way as others fix something of which she is ignorant.

Prism was told this would be a simple routine trip to visit Qorzisva’s home planet. Prism was told that it would be quick, comfortable, and safe. As the sirens blare around her, Prism feels her legs locking under her, a well trained sense of danger going haywire. She doesn’t know what’s gone wrong, but she knows that she can’t fix it with a hammer. Finally, the order she dreads comes across on the loudspeakers, they must abandon ship.

Making her way to the escape pods, Prism sees the cramped metal boxes, not so much unlike a coffin with a view of the stars. No room for comfort, and certainly no room for more than one. 8S comes to check on Prism, but her words seem blurred in the chaos of the situation. Prism manages to make out a sentence, “It’ll be alright, we’ll just meet up on the pickup vessel.” Even still, she can’t help but feel that the situation isn’t over yet.

Stepping into the tall box, Prism contorts herself to fit the escape pod that was obviously never meant to hold her kind. Crossing her forelegs across her chest and raising up on her hindlegs seems to do the trick, as the pod detects its passenger and closes. The front door holds a wide window, through which Prism can see 8S waving her off, a twinge of worry in her eyes.

Prism’s world shifts suddenly, shaking her as the pod moves back and into a long tube. Magnetic pulses accelerate her down this tube and out of the ship, where the knight finds dozens of these other pods floating through the void around the ship. Several more come out of the tube as Prism’s pod starts to drift away and make room. The air tastes stale and metallic, but it is the utter silence outside of her own breath and rapid heart that starts to panic the young pony.

Just then, a blinding flash comes from the ship as its hull tears itself apart. The entire ship starts to crush in on itself in a silent implosion into its Jump Core. A panic overtakes the unicorn as she realizes that her own pod is moving toward the collapsing core. As her pod falls into the glowing sphere where the rest of the ship is compressing, Prism simply closes her eyes, giving a silent prayer.

BOOM

The deafening sound of a massive explosion surrounds Prism, and then she feels something quite familiar, the pull of gravity downward. Daring to open her eyes, Prism looks around to see a distant horizon over unfamiliar ground. Ground that, she quickly notes, is not only very distant but is also approaching rapidly.

Starting to sway and spin swiftly through the air, the pod tosses Prism around inside of it. The sky seems to rotate and a panic sets in again. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Prism looks around her small prison for an option. Looking above, she finds several buttons of various colors. Hardly able to make out the writing, a wince covers Prism’s face as she blindly presses the one furthest left with a glow of her magic.

A hard jerk pulls on the pod, yanking it up as if it were trying to tear away. Looking out her window, Prism sees thrusters firing below her as the pod finally stops spinning. Unfortunately, it only hardly slows before smashing into the ground that lies far too close. The noise is painful, as metal and glass break apart and crunch together. Cushions of some kind deploy all around Prism as the impact seems to threaten to break her.

Feeling immense pain all around her body from the crash, Prism reaches out blindly once again with her magic, prying off the door of the pod. Moving gingerly, especially on her foreleg, which felt broken, Prism moves out of her little coffin, giving a cry of pain in spite of herself. Looking around as her magic reaches for her Cure wand, Prism sees a desolate grey wasteland of harsh rocks, with piles of metal scrap and junk scattered about.

Looking up ahead, unfamiliar stars shine in the sky, their light almost mocking Prism in her isolation. Her situation starts to dawn on her as she looks around, no sounding horn could call for help from the stars, and she has no magic that could do the task. Even the greatest signal fire would be useless. Prism looks again about her surroundings, utterly alone.

Author's Note

Here we begin another arc, though this one is set in the future. I hope you're ready, because Prism sure isn't.

Mess With the Bull (Future)

The trail left no doubt of where the beast had gone, upturned trees and a dragging skid in the topsoil betrayed its path. When Prism passed through the town, she noticed their fearful looks and the makeshift trench made to stave off the beast. Asking around town managed to figure out the culprit, a Bull-Troll. It had been raiding the town’s crops and terrorizing their livestock. The ponies of the village were absolutely distraught, and Prism couldn’t leave them without trying to help.

Up ahead, Prism could finally see an old structure carved into the rocks that the troll had been using as a lair, where the trail ended. Remembering her study of civil design, she figured the place to be an old storage facility, probably long abandoned before the troll had moved in to hide away from the light of day and keep its filthy lucre.

Prism made her way into the warehouse, as the smell of the troll’s filth rose to greet her. Gagging, she cast a light from her horn to illuminate the place. Looking around, she found pillars of old stone set periodically through the large room, with unlit sconces for light. In the corners of the room, she found a few old barrels from when the place was abandoned, as well as remains from the troll’s kills.

One of these corpses starts to shift, revealing the monster itself. The beast towers over twice the knight’s height, a sickly green leathery hide topped with matted greasy hair between vicious horns. Its mouth is filled with massive sharp teeth as it growls menacingly. Lunging over its carrion dinner, the troll moves to attack the new threat in a thunderous charge as it gives a horrible yell.

With barely enough time to brace herself, Prism takes the blow on the side of her shield. The troll continues past her and turns around for another pass. Taking a breath, she draws her Earthbreaker, and turns to face her opponent while reeling back for a shot at the charging beast. Sure enough the troll does come for another charge, this time running straight into Prism’s readied hammer. Unabated by this assault the momentum of the charge continues, knocking Prism back into one of the pillars. A rain of stones fall on the two fighters as pieces of the masonry crumble apart under the impact.

Trying to get some space, Prism moves defensively away from the troll and the pillar it had nearly pinned her against. Near the barrels now, Prism notices a distinct smell overpowering that of the troll’s stink, lamp oil. Likely for the sconces, the oil could still be viable. Roaring again, the troll charges at her once more, this time landing square on her shield. Taking the momentum of the wild charge and turning it to her side, Prism’s horn flares to light as an aura surrounds the troll. Turning to the side, she throws the troll’s mass into the barrels smashing them into splinters as she soaking it in oil.

The beast gives off another great roar at the oil now covering it, and stands slipping and sputtering to continue the fight. Attempting to sink its fangs into its foe, it is rewarded only with a painful mouth as its incisors bounced harmlessly off the steel armor. Prism spins her hammer around her body with a flourish as it ignites with a brilliant fire. Smashing the flaming weapon into the troll, it catches with furious flames as the oil lights. Blinded by the light and burning from the fire, the troll attacks in a mad fury. While its fangs are harmless once again, the horns of the beast knock Prism back flying through the air.

Breathing heavily now, Prism can feel the pain from the savage attacks. Already, there is a slowly growing pool of heat where the beast struck her, blood. Realizing that she can’t bring this foe down so easily, Prism looks for another way. Looking desperately, she sees the weakened pillar from earlier. With a thunderous smash from her hammer, the pillar collapses and the old warehouse starts to cave in. Running as fast as she can to the door, Prism barely manages to make it out alive. Meanwhile the troll gives off a final cry of agony and rage, trapped between the petrifying light of day or the collapsing den, it tries to charge out, but is ultimately crushed by the falling rocks.

Prism waits for a full minute to ensure that the troll is slain, ending her readiness only to drink a potion to stop the bleeding on her side. Satisfied that the burning stopped the troll’s healing long enough for the rocks to finish the job, Prism dissipates her weapon and puts the shield on her back. Walking toward the town, she considers staying the night at least, to assure that they’ll be safe.