Author's Note

Please let me know if you find any mistakes or spelling errors, preferably via dm. I have no editors, so this is all proof-read and edited by myself.

Part I - Ch. V - A Little Bit of Chaos Remembered

“To retrieve your missing Elements, just make sense of this change of events. Twists and turns are my master plan. Then find the Elements back where you began."

- Discord

He was confused. So much about this place was confusing. Something old and dangerous was crawling around just out of sight, an echo of some sort, he thought. He was dangerous himself, but he’d only just been born… no… reborn? Brought back? The Speaker had called to him from across space and time, and he’d awakened in response. Slowly at first, shifting the dirt of eons off his shoulders, and with tremendous effort, he’d dug his way back to the surface. There he’d found light. That had been unexpected, and in the back of his mind, he’d realized there was something very very wrong about that light, not to mention the grass-scented breeze and the twitter of birdsong accompanying it.

He was inside a construct of chaos, and to him, that was perhaps the most confusing part. It was so pure–only chaos without the malice–and it all reeked of something… no someone, that shouldn’t have been able to exist in this place. It reeked of Harmony. That… that bitch! Of all the impossible horrible things! He gritted his teeth and tried to focus on his task.

He’d been given a direct command, and the Master of Ceremonies wasn’t about to disappoint. After all, the Speaker had called him first. He’d be the one granted ascension, even if he had to stomp all over the others to get it, and oddly enough, this place was lousy with ichor. He could smell it even over the chaos, even over Harmony’s sugary burning stench. There were godlings here, and he so hoped he’d get to taste them. Orphic chuckled and melted back into the shadow. All he had to do was avoid the old thing and wait, and he was very good at waiting.

-

Winter felt himself turn briefly inside out and backwards before reappearing comfortably on his hooves, but most of his companions were clearly unfamiliar with the experience. Cercus didn’t bat an eye but seemed to stand a little stiffer, and Linden’s only sign of discomfort was a demure sneeze. Skarn and Asterope both collapsed as soon as they rematerialized inside the labyrinth. He didn’t blame them. In fact, he sympathized quite a bit. Teleporting was one thing when done intentionally on your own and quite another when pulled involuntarily through time and space by someone else. He chuckled and reached a hoof out to help Asterope back to her feet. Linden did the same for Skarn.

The wispy light orb Lord Spike had promised was waiting for them, illuminating the tunnel two dozen paces in every direction. Still, when Winter looked around, he could see neither walls nor ceilings. It seemed like whatever magic had made their rooms fit into the coliseum was at work here making the labyrinth larger inside than it appeared from the outside. The floor was made of evenly placed white cobblestones that provided excellent grip. For all he could tell, he might as well be standing in the middle of Castle Boulevard in Canterlot, except all the streetlamps were dead, and the stars and the moon were gone. It was eerie.

“Is everyone alright?” Winter asked. Grunts of affirmation from Asterope and Skarn followed, and Linden and Cercus nodded.

“Before we do anything else, we should review what we know,” Linden said. Winter agreed and had been about to say as much himself, but the deer seemed capable enough, and he didn’t mind her taking charge. In here, he was no longer Captain Winter Shield, just one cog in a five-part machine.

“That was Discord, wasn’t it?” Asterope asked, shivering slightly despite the warm air in the tunnel.

“You betcha,” Winter said. “I’ve never seen him before myself, but if I understand how his powers work then shapeshifting is old hat for him.”

Linden looked uncomfortable. “I have heard of this Discord. He is wed to the Saint, yes?”

Winter laughed despite himself. “Afraid of a little mischief? As far as I know, he’s pretty harmless. I guess some history books mention he used to be less than friendly, but I can’t imagine anyone married to the Saint being too bad.”

Linden looked skeptical but nodded. “It is a good thing to know that the Spirit of Chaos has some part to play in this. What else do we know?”

Winter was sure that Linden had already mentally catalogued and reviewed everything Lord Spike and Princess Twilight had told them, but he decided to play along. In his experience, participation was crucial for success. If even one individual on a team decided to disengage, it could be disastrous.

“Seems like we’ve got more time than light,” he said. “I assume that’s intentional.”

Cercus, who was studying the invisible ceilings and walls, nodded in agreement. “Yes, it seems this labyrinth is going to be quite the puzzle.”

Winter thought that Cercus looked rather pleased about the prospect.

“For example,” the changeling continued, “did any of you notice that neither the Princess nor Lord Spike actually told us how to pass the trial?”

Winter and the others stared at him with collectively raised eyebrows.

“Yeah, they did.” Asterope said. “We gotta find those rocks and then teleport out, right?”

Cercus laughed but was still studying their dark surroundings when he answered. “I’m sure Lord Spike chose his words with care and precision. He said that to teleport out we’d need both tablets, but he never mentioned whether we’d pass as a group or if we’d be evaluated individually. The fact that only one of us needs to be present for the tablets to work is surely significant. In addition, the only disqualifying condition he mentioned was to still be in the labyrinth when the time expires. He didn’t actually say that getting ported out when asking for help would disqualify you. Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, he didn’t say that bringing the tablets to the center of the labyrinth and teleporting out guaranteed passing the trial, only that that was our ‘goal’.”

They all stared at him for a moment, trying to process everything he’d just said. He was right, of course, but Winter was fairly certain that he’d never have arrived at the same conclusions, no matter how long he spent in the labyrinth.

Asterope started to laugh, and now it was her turn to be subjected to a gathering of surprised stares.

“This is sweet!” she said, voice cracking from excitement. “We’re totally gonna crush this challenge, guys! I mean, look at all of you. Most of you look like you could body slam an ursa minor, and with egghead over there, we should breeze through any puzzle this dumb labyrinth throws at us!” She seemed very pleased with the situation, and Winter thought she looked rather comical, drowning under a much too large ochre shawl and more golden jewelry than her little body should rightly be able to support.

“You’re not wrong, little bird,” Skarn said, though it clearly pained her to do so, “but what exactly do you bring to the table? You’re unarmed, small, and if I’m not mistaken, parrots aren’t exactly known for their powerful magics.”

Asterope’s expression faltered, but she quickly masked her discomfort with a cocky grin and a smug toss of her turquoise crest feathers. “Pfft, you’ll see. There’s more to me than meets the eye.”

“That is all well and good,” Linden said, interrupting Skarn with a stern look before the latter could respond, “but I think we should start moving. Time is of the essence.”

Though Winter wasn’t sure why, the light orb floated over towards Linden and hovered near her as if waiting. Maybe it recognized that she was the de facto leader? She looked over at Cercus, who nodded back and smiled.

“As we don’t know where we are,” Cercus said, “and don’t know where we’re going, any direction works as just as well as another.”

And so, they set off together, as eclectic a group of hopefuls as Winter had ever seen. Linden walked alongside Cercus at the front–Asterope tailing the both of them closely–, and Winter marched along in the back with Skarn.

It was a spectral darkness that passed them by, unchanging and sinister. Their glowing orb did little for him in the ways of comfort, and had it not been for the cobblestones passing along beneath his hooves, Winter wasn’t sure he’d actually be able to tell whether they were moving or not.

Then something changed. The air around them grew damp, and the orb grew slightly brighter, illuminating a large cavern filled with dead and barren trees. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but it looked as if most, if not all, the trees had had their trunks carved out like jack-o’-lanterns to resemble hideous snarling faces. In the middle of the cavern, no more than fifty paces ahead of them, stood a tall pillar with a plaque attached to the base.

“Hmm,” Cercus said, then remained silent. They’d all stopped, wary of moving ahead, and Winter waited for Linden to say something, hoping she’d take charge.

“Asterope?” The deer asked. “Are you able to read that plaque from here? I would rather we keep our distance until we know what we are dealing with.”

To Winter’s astonishment, the little parrot nodded. Then, from under her shawl, she produced a small leatherbound looking glass, which she twirled in-between her claws in a dramatic flourish.

“Aye, Captain,” she said in a mock pirate accent, placing the looking glass over one of her large dark eyes. “Uhm, it’s kinda long. Let’s see. Oh! I know this. ‘The feelings you feel are always valid. Jealousy, anger, and fear are all normal. In small amounts, they are even healthy. Do not let these emotions lead you into harmful action. Study instead their cause so that you may learn more about yourself. When needed, speak out about how you feel and engage in honest conversation with those you love and trust. The goal is always to resolve your feelings, not to ignore them, deny them, or use them as a scapegoat or crutch.'"

“That’s from the Book of Friendship,” Winter said.

Asterope nodded. “Yeah, from Prelate Pie’s chapter.”

Something about that tickled the back of his mind. He looked around at the trees again, slowly breathing in the damp air. It was clammy, thick, and tasted a little bit like… the Everfree Forest.

“Uhm, does this all seem vaguely familiar to any of you?” he asked. He looked around, but only saw understanding in Cercus eyes. The normally eloquent and reserved changeling wilted a little.

“Oh,” he said, backing up a couple of steps. “Maybe we should–”

Unfortunately, none of them got to hear what Cercus thought they maybe should do, because the tree nearest to them reached down with one of its barrel sized branches and struck the Under-Lieutenant with enough force to send him crashing into another tree some ten paces away. He smacked into the trunk with a sickening crunch.

The rest of the group stood shocked, staring at the spot where Cercus had been standing just a moment before, but the rest of the trees were already moving, some of them pulling their roots out of the ground to use as feet. Winter wasted no time.

“Skarn!” he yelled over the din of creaking branches. “Get to Cercus and make sure he’s breathing, then get him to that pillar at the center!” The pillar was surrounded by a circle of the same cobblestone they’d been walking on to get to the cavern, and it seemed the trees were either unwilling or unable to walk on it. It was a gamble, for sure, but Winter didn’t have any better ideas. “Asterope, go with Skarn and help her!”

Skarn was already flying low along the ground towards Cercus, wings flapping furiously for speed, but Asterope stood dumbstruck, staring at a tree winding up for a swing at her. A clear watery magic aura surrounded the parrot and dragged her out of the way just as the branch smashed into the ground where she’d been standing. Winter looked over at Linden, confused but glad for the assist.

“Listen to Captain Shield, Asterope! Go help Skarn!”

Asterope blinked at Linden and Winter, then shook her head and quickly saluted them before rushing after the gargoyle, who was in the process of rousing a groggy looking Cercus. The tree the changeling had crashed into was cracked along the trunk, and though it still moved, it appeared sluggish and was unable to aim its branches properly. Winter cast a gray shield dome over them to protect them from any lucky blows.

“We’ll talk about what just happened later,” he said to Linden, “but right now we’ve got to move. If you can use magic, then help me clear a path.”

Linden nodded at him, and the two of them rushed ahead of the others, trying their best to cut down any branches reaching out for them. They had to move slowly, as Cercus was clearly struggling to stand up straight, even with Skarn and Asterope helping.

“You keep cutting down the branches ahead of us,” he yelled at Linden while rushing back to cover the other three from the rear. “I’ll make sure–”

A large branch came down on his hindquarters, and he heard more than felt a loud snap in his left hindleg. He fell to the ground mid step and looked back at a limb bending awkwardly in one too many places. It looked strange, and Winter idly thought how odd it was that he’d been through so many battles and had never broken a bone clean in half before… then the pain hit him.

He tried to swallow the pitiful groan bubbling up through his throat. This was hardly the time and place to lose his focus. Gritting his teeth, he cast a large shield dome over his head. Despite his name, shield magic was hardly his specialty, and this one was large, covering himself as well as the others who had stopped when seeing him fall. As heavy angry branches battered away at them, small hairline fractures began to spread across the magic barrier. Each blow sent jolts through his horn, the tension of the magic pushing uncomfortably against the physical boundaries of the grooved keratin.

“Keep going! I won’t be able to hold this shield for long if I have to cover all of us!” He looked Skarn in the eyes as he spoke, doing his best to ignore the hellish pain radiating from his leg up through his body. “Stay as close as you can to Linden, and Cercus, for Celestia’s sake, get yourself together!”

The changeling was clearly trying to do just that, shaking his head and standing up straighter. To the group’s credit, they immediately set off towards the pillar, leaving Winter behind. He shrank the shield down to a much more manageable size and tried to steady his breathing. The trees were relentless, surrounding him and cutting off his view of the others. Normally, he’d be able to maintain a shield this size almost indefinitely, but these weren’t normal circumstances. That pesky leg was being just a little bit of a distraction.

The light had followed Linden so that even though he could still see, it was getting terribly dark, and the thronging trees weren’t exactly helping. He swallowed his pride and yelled as loud as he could, unsure whether the others had even reached the pillar.

“Any chance of getting some help!?”

He was met with silence and grimaced. He didn’t think he’d be pulled from the trial unless his shield broke, but he’d rather not chance it. He closed his eyes, cleared his mind, and reluctantly readied himself to enter the Well. Maybe if he did, he’d be able to ignore the pain long enough to stumble over to the others. Luckily for him, it appeared Cercus had regained his senses.

A loud roar shook the ground, and trees immediately surrounding him were consumed in an inferno of brilliant green fire. The heat was searing and the light bright enough that he was forced to close his eyes. Still, his shield held. When he opened his eyes again, an ashy path had been cleared between him and the others. There he saw Asterope, Linden, and Skarn staring up at a bronze and green dragon the size of a small house.

Linden recovered first, rushing out towards Winter. But even as she moved, new trees began to sprout rapidly from the ground.

“Lower you shield!” she yelled, still some distance away.

Winter did as she ordered, not sure he’d have been able to maintain it for much longer anyway. He felt the deer’s strange magic surround him. It was cool and viscous to the touch, and though he was certain this was only a simple levitation spell, it soothed the pain in his leg just a little. Though, not enough to keep him from crying out when Linden hastily and unceremoniously hoisted him into the air and ran back towards the pillar as fast as she could, unicorn in tow.

She let him down next to the others just in time for him to turn his head and see that all the trees Cercus had burnt down had regrown fully and were waving their arms menacingly at the group from outside the cobblestone circle. Cercus returned to normal form and sat down next to Winter, breathing heavily.

“A bit much maybe,” he said, smiling down at the injured Captain. “But I wasn’t sure anything less would actually hurt them.”

“I can do something for your leg,” Linden said, crouching down next to him. She was clearly tired and sweating, but Winter wasn’t about to say no to some healing. She began to move her hooves back and forth across his leg, shifting her magic aura in and out of his body. Winter hissed at the initial pain but tried his best not to twitch or move.

He glanced up to see Skarn looking down at him, suspicion in her eyes. “You knew this would happen?” she asked, clearly uncomfortable with her own lack of understanding.

“Sort of,” he said, though the pain was making it hard to talk. Cercus saw his discomfort and placed one of his oddly clawed hooves on his shoulder.

“Ah, let me explain.” The changeling gestured towards the pillar and then to the trees as he spoke. “This pillar has an excerpt attached to it from the Prelate’s section of the Book of Friendship, which was our first clue. Combine that with the fact that all of these trees have frightening faces carved into them, and I’m guessing our good Captain deduced that this challenge would mimic the one the Element’s faced as they journeyed through the Everfree to confront Nightmare Moon.”

“How could you know that?” Skarn asked. “I haven’t read the Book of Friendship myself, but if I understand correctly, all the chronicles of the Elements start after their defeat of Nightmare Moon.”

Winter was doing his best to focus on their conversation, but his mind was beginning to feel unusually… sluggish? Maybe Linden’s magic was doing something? She was focused squarely on his injury, and in his addled state of mind, he found that he quite liked looking at her face and her big pale eyes. Her big sincere pale eyes. Oh, for cute, he thought, then blinked rapidly and looked away, feeling an uncomfortable and–considering the circumstances–very inappropriate blush heat his face. He wondered if there was some anesthetic effect to the spell Linden was casting. That must be it.

“Children’s books, my dear Skarn,” Cercus said. “Fairy tales to be precise. Well, and a few corroborating historical records in the Canterlot Royal Archives.”

Winter shook his head. Children’s books? Oh yes, they were talking about the… the trials. About how they’d known. His vision started to blur.

“Buck!” Linden exclaimed, and though the five of them had only known each other for an exceedingly brief time, it was odd to hear the composed and regal looking deer swear with such fire in her voice. “We need to get him out of here. I could keep treating him, but he is losing consciousness, and the best I will be able to do is set the leg and heal it a little. He will not be able to put any pressure on it, and we do not have time to dally.”

“No! Please!” Winter quickly reached out and grabbed one of Linden’s hooves in a weak grip. It was hard to focus, but he couldn’t let them send him out. Not now. “Do… do what you can for the pain. I’ll… splint the leg… with magic.”

Linden looked at the others then back at Winter.

“We can’t just send him away,” Asterope said, and Winter was oddly touched by the concern in her voice.

Skarn nodded. “This’ll eat up valuable time but sending him away now would be cruel. He deserves a shot at this. We’re a unit, and in the spirit of the Elements, we should attempt to pass as a unit.”

When both Cercus and Linden nodded at this, Winter relaxed and allowed the dark comfort of sleep to swallow him.

-

“That’s curious. You smell like one of them, but you aren’t, are you?”

Winter shook his head wildly and stumbled backwards, unsure of where he was. He felt frightened, the bubbling pre-amble to panic bouncing around in his gut. He looked around. Though everything was dark, there was a familiarity to this place. It felt like the Well, almost. Like a twisted rotten version of the Well, a place that already made him uncomfortable during the best of times. For just a moment, he thought he heard the sound of a train horn and distant singing, but when he tried to listen closer, the sound was gone.

“Why do you smell like her? Hmmm, no. Why do you smell like one sixth? Disgusting!”

“Show yourself!” Winter called, deploying his strongest command voice, the one he used for drilling soldiers. It mattered little. The words were absorbed into the silent void surrounding him as soon as they left his lips.

“You’re some kind of… horse? I’ve noticed most of you are. Strange. Or maybe not, maybe just vanity on her part. Hehe.”

Silence lingered, but Winter refused to move. He had to assume that whatever this thing was, it could see him. Though he was terrified–unnaturally so, he thought–he wasn’t about to give it the satisfaction of backing down.

“My name is Orphic,” the thing said. Its voice was awful, like scraping half-settled asphalt off industrial tin-sheets, and it made Winter’s skin crawl. “You should know that even if you survive this, it’ll mean very little. He’s given me a command, and I won’t disobey him. But afterwards… well, I’m really really hungry.” Orphic laughed a loud unhinged laughter, and Winter was sure he’d never heard anything quite as mad in his whole life.

He was about to try his luck yelling at the thing again when out of the dark a snarling beast came lunging. It threw itself into the air and closed its jaws around an inky dark figure hovering a little bit in front of Winter. The beast was an amalgamation of creatures, wild horns and fangs everywhere, and more limbs and eyes than seemed right. It shook its head back and forth like a timberwolf trying to snap the neck of its prey.

The inky figure cried out with Orphic’s voice, though the pitiful noise sounded more shocked than pained. Winter stood stunned, uncertain whether to run or try to help. The choice was taken from him as a sudden burning sensation in his leg brought him back to the world of the living.

-

Linden released a deep breath when Captain Shield blinked his eyes and finally sat back up, groaning loudly. She’d been slowly easing the anesthetic elements of her magic, hoping that the pain would bring him around without having to shake or jostle him. She’d set his bone, but the healing had been less effective than she’d expected, and the connection was very weak.

It troubled her that her magic seemed weaker in this place. The Captain’s shield dome had begun to crack with alarming speed, and Cercus had not only taken an uncommonly long time to recover from his blow–considering his armor and bulk–but seemed genuinely surprised at how out of breath he was after his transformation.

It seemed the labyrinth, or something in it, was functioning as a power dampener. Asterope and Skarn appeared unaffected, and she wondered if that was because they didn’t possess any magic of their own.

“Uff da! That smarts,” the Captain said through gritted teeth.

Linden felt bad for having to suppress a giggle at the unicorn’s peculiar affectations. This was neither the time nor place, and she did her best to maintain an appropriately neutral expression.

“Finally,” Asterope said, standing up from where she’d been sitting at the pillars base. She stretched her limbs and took a deep breath.

“How long was I out?” Winter asked, looking more than a little concerned.

“If I had to guess,” Cercus said, sitting in front of the plaque and presumably re-reading it while speaking to them, “maybe fifteen minutes or so. Don’t worry. I doubt you’ve delayed us significantly as our friends here seem unwilling to let us leave.”

Winter looked out at the wall of trees that had them surrounded, and Linden was pleased to see that rather than being fearful, his brows were knitted in deep thought.

“Well,” he finally said, “at least we know how to get rid of them.”

“What?” Linden asked. Asterope and Skarn looked at each other, the same surprise Linden felt painted clearly on their faces.

“We do?” Skarn asked.

Cercus chuckled and nodded towards the pillar. “Perhaps we should finish explaining how we knew about the trees in the first place, though I must admit that I’m surprised Princess Twilight chose this particular event as inspiration, considering its emotional baggage.”

Winter nodded at that and looked somewhat more somber. Linden guessed it had more to do with the trees than his injury. “There’s a reason most of the records chronicling the Elements start after the defeat of Nightmare Moon.”

“I had always assumed it was out of respect towards Princess Luna and Celestia.” Linden said. Years ago, the Keeper had told her that out of the two, Celestia seemed more affected by those events than Princess Luna did, and Linden could almost understand that. From what she’d heard, the Princess of the Night had long since come to terms with her demons. Still, a thousand years in complete isolation on the moon… She shivered.

“No, yeah. That’s pretty much it,” Winter said. “But if you grew up in Equestria, you’d know there’s a million and one children’s books out there detailing the adventures of the Elements of Harmony. Most ponies refer to them as ‘old ponies tales’, but really, none of those stories happened more than a hundred years ago or so, so everypony knows they’re real, even if the books themselves aren’t always particularly devoted to historical accuracy.”

“When Princess Twilight first came to Ponyville as a young unicorn,” Cercus continued, “she met the rest of the Elements. They journeyed through the Everfree Forest to reach the ruins of the Castle of the Two Sisters where they faced off against Nightmare Moon. On the way, each of the Elements was forced to face a challenge which they could only solve by embodying that trait for which they’re most famous. In the Prelate’s case, she banished the group’s fear through laughter, demonstrating that the trees which they’d assumed were monsters were only just trees.”

“Except, these trees aren’t just trees, they’re actual monsters trying to snap us in half.” Winter sounded resentful, and Linden couldn’t blame him. That leg wasn’t going to heal anytime soon. “But Cercus is right,” Winter continued, “it seems we’ll have to banish these trees through… laughter?”

They all looked at each other, hesitant. Linden was certain that like herself, none of the others felt particularly jovial at the moment, and she wasn’t at all sure how exactly they were supposed to conjure up laughter. Maybe she could tell a joke? She’d never been very good at those, but she could at least give it a shot. She searched her memory for a good one, but most of her previous attempts at humor had been met with flat expressions and sighs from the Keeper, the only deer Linden had ever felt comfortable enough around to try.

This was a dire situation, so perhaps simplicity was the best choice. Besides, how hard could it be to make a few creatures laugh? She planted her hooves firmly and gathered her nerves.

“Why, uhm… why did the chicken cross the road?” she asked.

Four sets of incredulous eyes turned to look at her in silence. And then, Asterope began to laugh, quickly followed by Cercus and Skarn. The Captain didn’t so much laugh as chuckle and wheeze through the pain in his leg. Linden felt the rising heat of indignation in her cheeks.

“Why are you laughing? I did not finish the joke!”

“Oh, my dear Warden,” Cercus said, wiping a tear from his eyes. “Perhaps it would be best if you left the jokes to someone… uhm, a little less grave.”

Linden gasped and placed a hoof on her chest, feeling quite offended.

“Excuse you! I can be plenty comical. In fact, you should know that I am well respected among my kind for my quick wit.” She stuck her nose in the air, clearly telegraphing her displeasure, but if she’d hoped that her protestations–false as they were–would be met with apologies, she was sorely mistaken. Instead of looking contrite, her four companions only laughed harder.

“Well, I never–!”

“Wait!” It was Asterope who’d called out. She was pointing towards the trees. “Look, it’s working!”

Sure enough, the trees all around them had started to bloom, settling into more natural configurations, faces changing from harsh and unforgiving to kind and pleasant. The flowers were soft and pink and smelled faintly of sugar and frosting. A breeze blew through the now beautiful meadow, and Linden felt all her tension, fear, and indignation drain from her limbs. What had she been so upset about? The others were right, telling a joke in the middle of that mess had been quite silly.

She blushed. “Yes, well. Perhaps humor is not quite my forte.”

“I don’t know about that,” the Captain said, smiling at her. “It worked out pretty well this time, I think.” The others nodded their agreement.

They all knew they had to hurry, but there was a pleasant comfort in standing there under the flowering trees and forgetting for a moment the danger they’d just been in. After a moment though, Cercus cleared his throat.

“So, we should probably keep going.”

“How,” Skarn asked. “Captain Shield’s leg is still a mess. Linden said he won’t be able to walk on it. Right?”

Linden winced but nodded. “Yes. The point where I set the bone is still very weak. Even with a splint, the pain will be great.” She hated not being able to fully heal his injuries. The Keeper had always told her to do what she could and be happy with that. Blame and regret were detriments when practicing medicine, and there was no use worrying about things you couldn’t change. In practice, it wasn’t quite so easy to not feel like she’d somehow failed her patients. The dampening effect this place had on their magic just increased her frustration. Under normal circumstances, she’d have been able to do a much better job, and she’d have done it quicker too.

“Oh now, don’t worry about me,” the Captain said, sitting up a little straighter. He cast a quick spell, building a gray translucent splint around his injured leg and wincing as he sinched it tight. “I’ve got a trick or two up my sleeve that should let me walk along just fine.”

That sounded like an empty boast to Linden, but she watched with fascination as the unicorn closed his eyes and started taking long deep breaths. No one said anything, all of them curious to see what he was up to, but after a few seconds he just opened his eyes, stood up, and smiled, seemingly right as rain. Linden thought she could see a peculiar sheen in his eyes, and his voice sounded a little bit more distant, but it was subtle and might just be her imagination.

“How are you doing that?” Linden asked, shock giving way to a hunger for knowledge. There the Captain stood, exuding the same easy swagger and stoic skepticism she’d first sensed from him when spotting him on the field below the labyrinth. Part of her wondered if this trick of his–surely it was magic in nature–was harmful to his leg, but any technique that allowed a patient to completely ignore pain this severe was surely useful in the healing arts.

“Oh, it’s nothing special,” the Captain said a little too casually, and Linden thought he might be hiding a grimace. “It’s a mental trick I learned from an old man in the Crystal Empire who claimed he learned it from his sister. I prefer not to use it, but dire circumstances and all.” He shrugged and waved at their surroundings, though the cavern looked anything but dire at the moment.

“All the same,” Linden pressed, “I would be grateful if you could share your secret. Surely you can see how useful it would be?”

Captain Shield looked at her but said nothing for several heartbeats. She tried her best to glean some knowledge or insight from those piercing ruddy blue eyes. There was something there, something weary and tired, but just when she thought she might figure it out, he smiled at her and shook his head.

“Maybe later, once we’re out of here,” he said. “Right now, we need to focus on the trial.”

Linden sighed and looked out at the trees. “Yes, that seems prudent. Cercus and Asterope looked over the pillar while you were unconscious, and it does not appear that either of the tablets are located here.”

The Captain stopped with a surprised and embarrassed look on his face, and Linden felt some petty satisfaction that he at least hadn’t thought of that, and it wasn’t just because of his secret keeping. She could understand waiting to explain later, what with the time constraints they were working under, but she had to admit that she was also a little bit sore about the fact that she’d frozen when the trees first came to life and had forced the Captain to step in and take charge. She wasn’t sure exactly why he’d allowed her to take the lead initially. She was more than capable, of course, but she’d expected an Equestrian military commander to act with more… pride? Arrogance?

She’d always assumed that ponies generally thought of themselves as occupying the center of the universe, at least from what the Keeper had said, and her journey through Equestria to Ponyville had hardly disabused her of that notion. But then there were ponies like the Saint and this Captain Shield who seemed more, well, humble wasn’t the right word, but patient and tolerant fit. She was entirely unsure of Princess Twilight. She’d appeared friendly and approachable at first, even a bit too friendly, but then Linden had misstepped somehow and the Princess’ demeanor had turned cool. Not to mention her display in the coliseum.

“This is a bit intense… isn’t it?”

Linden blinked and looked down at Asterope, who was standing next to her and frowning at the Captain as he walked into the trees with Cercus and Skarn.

“Uhm, what do you mean?” she asked.

“Well, we just got in here, it’s been at least half an hour already if not more, and the Captains leg was essentially turned into mashed potatoes. The rest of us would’ve probably been broken beyond repair if not for his quick thinking and your guys’ magic. Oh, and Cercus being able to turn into a flipping dragon!” Asterope sighed and gave herself a little hug. “If we’re doing this poorly, I’m just worried some of the other teams might… well, are we in real danger, Linden?”

Linden looked down at the young parrot, struck by her sincerity and moved by her concern.

“I do not know, Asterope, but I think we might be.”

-

Somewhere, in a small, tiny, very-not-important part of her mind, Twilight was aware that Discord, still in his unicorn disguise, was lounging leisurely on Spike’s throne. She wasn’t sure why Rainbow and Spike had placed it there since Spike was too large to fit into the skybox, but at least it was being put to use by somepony, even if that somepony refused to speak to her or acknowledge her existence in any way.

To be fair, Twilight was having a hard time paying attention to her surroundings as well, which suited her just fine. Fluttershy had left for the infirmary “just in case”, but Twilight had hardly noticed. Rainbow and Applejack were having one of their small arguments, the kind that eventually led to drinking followed by aggressive flirting and… well. She’d have giggled at that if her brain wasn’t currently busy tracking almost a hundred separate groups of creatures making their way through her labyrinth.

The spell itself was easy. She’d partitioned her thoughts into compartments, one for each of the groups and a smaller one for her surroundings. She tended to drool a lot whenever she forgot that last part, something she’d like to avoid in front of a crowd this size. Then she’d cast scrying spells to ensure she had a visual and auditory bead on all of the contestants. To any creature looking on from the outside, it would appear as if she was sitting in a trans, hundreds of images per second flickering across her eyes.

None of the creatures in the stadium were looking at her though. She’d projected the images of some of the groups struggles into the stadium so that the crowd could follow along, and they all seemed rather captivated by the spectacle. Cheering whenever an applicant did something heroic and gasping when they were in danger.

A few groups had quickly disqualified themselves through infighting, which wasn’t really a surprise. A few others had been pulled from the labyrinth because of fear of injury but had still qualified for the second round due to their exemplary behavior. Summer Rain, a young hippogriff, had been pulled after throwing herself in front of a spout of fire which would have burned one of her teammates. Twilight had got them both out in time. The same thing had happened with one of Luna’s guards, a Private Dusk, who’d shoved a fellow pony out of the way of a rampaging hydra. A remarkably clever yak named Olina had solved one of Twilight’s logic puzzles in a truly impressive time but had then chosen to port out of the labyrinth after securing the Tablet of Honesty for her group. Twilight wasn’t sure why she’d done it, but leaving the labyrinth wasn’t a disqualifying condition.

She would've been feeling rather pleased with herself if not for the fact that scrying spell number seventy-two wasn’t working properly. Aside from making her very nervous, she found this especially frustrating since group seventy-two was the group she was most interested in following. By some miracle, Under-Lieutenant Cercus and Linden had both joined the same group, a group which just so happened to also include Asterope and Captain Shield of all ponies! They’d been joined by the only gargoyle participating in the trial, and it was fascinating to her that these particular creatures had all banded together through pure chance.

The spell would randomly feed her snippets of sound or fragmentary images of group seventy-two but wouldn’t stay with them for more than a few seconds. What she’d seen worried her. Something had happened that had resulted in a severe leg injury to Captain Shield. Twilight should have pulled him when she saw that, but something stayed her magic. Also, were those moving trees? She was certain none of the challenges in the labyrinth involved moving trees. She bit her lip, agonizing. She should just pull the group out, suspend the trial, and figure out what was going on, but…

She groaned and placed her face in her hooves. Curse her curiosity! She wanted to know what was happening–to let it play out–but in her mind, she could hear every single one of her friends lecturing her. “It ain’t right, Twilight,” Applejack would say. “Quite,” Rarity would chime in, “don’t forget, these are living creatures we’re talking about, not variables in one of your dreadful equations.” “C’mon guys, let’s see what happens! I bet it’ll be awesome!” Well, maybe Rainbow Dash wasn’t the best pony to listen to for advice on dangerous situations.

“Please, Twilight.”

That did it. She couldn’t risk saddling Fluttershy with the fallout of another mistake. She took a deep breath, readying herself to teleport the group out and end the entire exercise, but before she could cast the spell, Discord spoke up.

“Hmm, that’s unusual…”

She turned her head to look at him, pointless since her scrying spells were all still active, but it caught the attention of Applejack and Rainbow Dash, who looked over with concern.

“Discord, what’s unusual?” It was hard to speak with the scrying spells working, and she had to speak slowly and enunciate carefully. Discord ignored her and picked at his teeth with a small tiki umbrella.

“Discord,” Applejack asked, not looking at Twilight, “what’s unusual?”

The Lord of Chaos tossed the umbrella to the floor and sat up straight, changing back into his usual form with a clap of his hooves. “I think,” he said slowly, “that I might have missed something.”

And if the look on his face hadn’t been enough to make Twilight shiver, the sudden termination of scrying spell seventy-two ricocheting through her horn like a snapped rubber band certainly did the trick.