The startled ringing of windchimes sang out as the filly tore in from the alleyway. Her breath was ragged as she surveyed the small cul-de-sac, squinting through the gloom at the edges of the buildings for signs of her prey. The barrels and refuse she saw offered none. A tuft of pink hair fell across her face, prompting a growl of frustration. The anger that had momentarily been abated by the stitch in her side returned full-force.
“Stella! When I find you, you are dead!” she screeched, yet more strands of her carefully styled mane pulling loose for her efforts. “If Mom and Dad get another letter about you skipping they’re going to ground me for letting you! They’re not stupid! I’m not stupid! You’re going to school today!”
Her only response was the flutter of frightened birds flying away. With a final angry growl, she began to turn back to the alley, thinking perhaps her sister might have flown off.
And then a stained carpet by the right wall started to giggle.
In the blink of an eye the carpet was glowing golden. A fearful squeak sounded from within and a lavender blur shot out of the top but with a loud SNAP the rug rolled itself tight and fell to its side with a thump and a grunt of pain. The filly inside could only flutter her pinned wings and grin guiltily at her enraged sister. “H..hello Aria. I hope you’re, um, w..well today?”
Aria’s scowl could have roasted a lesser pony. “You ruined my mane, featherhead. You’re going to be in so much trouble when we get home.”
“I think you’ll find you have only yourself to bla…” The rest of Stella’s words turned to rasps and wheezes as the carpet about her neck began to tighten. A little muscle was twitching in Aria’s lip. “Now, are you going to go to school today, or do I have to drag you all the way there?” The telekinetic grip loosened on the rug. Stella coughed and spluttered, glaring at her sister. “I’ll tell our parents,” she rasped sullenly, once she’d caught her breath.
Aria walked around to the opening in the rug and lowered her head, her furious face inches from her pinned sister’s muzzle. “You’ll tell them what?” Her sister smirked up at her. “I’ll tell Mother and Father about that colt from our class coming over after you think you’ve put me to bed every time you have to babysit me. What’s his name? Bull Pie?”
For Stella, the way her sister’s face flashed repeatedly between horror and indignation made the morning’s events entirely worth it. “Wha.. but.. how did you….. Ugh! You’re such a dweeb! What did you do, spy on me? Are you going to get your cutie mark in being a sneak? I can’t believe you! And his name is Bullion Pike I’ll have you know, and he’s descended from the great King Bullio….” “I’m sure Mother and Father would love to hear all about him!” shouted Stella, cutting her sister off before she could get going.
Aria gave a quiet little scream and stomped both her front hooves. “Fine! Whatever! I won’t tell them! But you’re going to school today, I’m not getting grounded for you!” Silently the ruined carpet containing her sister floated after Aria back out into the tangle of alleyways. Stella struggled vainly to free herself. “I am able to walk, you know!” she shouted. Aria just scoffed. “And why should I trust you?”
There was silence the rest of the way to school.
A cool springtime breeze wafted in through the crack between the dusty windowpanes. It smelled of lilac and jasmine, food stalls and the ever-present aroma of ponies. The scent of freedom was almost cruel to her. The city lay out there, winding and mysterious, so close and yet impossibly far away. These thoughts filled Stella’s mind like a gentle buzz, a backdrop to her idle doodling.
“Miss Stella!”
The sharp barking of her name woke her from her reverie. She gazed around the classroom, eyes subtly avoiding the fuming grey unicorn standing at the head of the room. “Yes, Prefect?” The beleaguered teacher snorted at the innocent façade. “Miss Stella, would you be so kind as to tell us all in what year the heroes of the Windigo Crisis founded the Eternal City of Roan and began the Age of Harmony?”
Stella stared flatly at the teacher. “That would be the year 1 After Harmony.” Prefect Skyminder raised his brow imperiously. “And according to the cotemporaneous Unicornian calendar?” he asked. The pegasus filly’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “The year 282 of the Alloy Dynasty,” she finally huffed. Skyminder sighed, the long-suffering sort of sigh he reserved for his more troublesome charges. “Yes, that’s correct. Now pay attention, young filly, or it’ll be lines for you after class again today.” Skyminder returned his attention to the chalkboard, while Stella’s once again wandered to the alluring scents of freedom blowing in on the breeze.
A wad of wet paper plinked off her cheek, drawing her attention to the front of the room. Nopony looked around at her, but they didn’t need to; she could see the straw tucked surreptitiously under her sister’s tail in the row ahead. Even without seeing her face, Stella could feel the ire radiating off the alabaster unicorn. As usual, Aria sat at rapt attention, gazing fixedly at Prefect Skyminder with that stupid smile on her face. Her quill remained unmoving on her parchment.
A sly grin worked its way onto Stella’s muzzle as an idea struck her. Positioning herself closer to her sister’s desk in front of her, she carefully raised one wing and lifted one of Aria’s carefully tended braids. Inch by inch, she brought the lock closer to her open ink bottle, moving slowly so as not to alert the daydreaming unicorn. Just as the tip of the pink braid was positioned over the mouth of the bottle, the classroom door slammed open. She dropped her sister’s hair in surprise, the sudden motion giving away the game. Aria spared a disgusted glance for her sister and a quick peek at her braid before turning to regard the intruder.
A panting stallion stood in the doorway, his horn glowing as he directed a breeze towards his sweaty lime green face. Through the open doorway flowed the sound of the city bells ringing and the muted thunder of distant crowds galloping on hard flagstone. The children glanced between each other. They’d never heard the warning bells rung so vigorously before, or for so long; the significance wasn’t lost to them. Fear permeated the room like a quiet fog.
After a few moments, the guard caught his breath. “The viziers have called a mandatory meeting at the Temple. Gather your charges and head there at once.” Skyminder’s eyes narrowed. “What’s happening, son?” The guard blanched, and shook his head. His eyes flitted to the fillies and colts at their desks, staring worriedly at him. “Just head to the Temple, Prefect.” With a final huff, the Solar Guard rose to his trembling hooves and departed. Skyminder turned to the fearful foals, his lips a tight line. “Gather your things, everypony. We must hurry.”
The smooth marble steps of the Celestial Temple shuddered under the hooffalls of thousands of equines making their way into the vast airy dome of the chapel. The students of Prefect Skyminder’s class separated at the doors to the upper terrace. Aria and Stella made their way to the lower pews of the eastern balcony, taking their places beside their parents. Worried chatter droned on around them, punctuated by the tolling of the watch bell, now deafening for its nearness.
Once the seats of the Temple had been filled and the walkways packed, a gong was sounded, and the assembled unicorns fell silent. The great golden doors were closed with echoing bangs. Thrice more the gong was sounded, each clang louder and more resonant than the last. As the final warbling note rang out in the hall, the doors behind the altar opened, and the viziers of the Heavenly Council filed in. The frightened murmuring redoubled when the entirety of the Council entered the room, immaculate ivory robes and gleaming golden chains framing grim and distant faces. They took their places around the white marble altar, and when the ornately banded hoof of the Grand Vizier raised for attention, the chamber fell silent.
The Grand Vizier cleared his throat. The crowd looked on expectantly. Then he cleared his throat again. His fellow viziers began to shuffle nervously, stealing glances at him occasionally as the minutes stretched on and the murmuring of the crowd grew to a rumbling drone. Finally, his eyes seemed to harden. His horn glowed a deep gold, and his soft voice was magically clear to even the far corners of the room. “Roan has fallen.”
“Impossible!”
“Where were the legions? How could this happen?”
“Oh goddesses no! My son! My son Magnus…!”
Immediately bedlam erupted in the Temple. Cries and sobs mixed with the roar of thousands of voices shouting endless questions and denials. Several ponies near the exits tried to bolt, only to be repulsed by the spears of the soldiers keeping the doors. The viziers called vainly for order, adding to the confusion. Here and there flashes of magic lit as ponies in the center tried to muscle their way to the edges of the mob. Then, without warning, a brilliant flash of light and thunder exploded in the air above the Council, followed swiftly by the booming shout of the Grand Vizier. “BE STILL!”
The momentum of panic broken, the masses returned to watching the Vizier fearfully. His voice was firm and calm as he continued, his horn still smoking gently from the flashbang. “According to the refugees we’ve just interviewed, late in the night the sun rose over Roan, and He appeared and laid waste to the city. Of the population of roughly 780,000, it is estimated that no more than 10,000 escaped the city limits during the attack. Some of our traders in Roan have bravely split up to lead groups of survivors that are small enough to survive the journey through the Madlands, and the first of these bands has arrived at the Watch. We can expect some 600 refugees should every trader return safely with their charges. May the Sisters grant them mercy. They shall arrive throughout the next fortnight.”
The sounds of muffled sobbing gave way to a more subdued barrage of speakers as the Grand Vizier grew quiet. Eventually a pale mauve unicorn at the upper north balcony of the chamber managed to make himself heard over the din. “Where will we put them once they get here? How many can we expect to be earth ponies or pegasi, and are they bringing any of their beast races?”
Once more the Grand Vizier took his time in answering. Aria couldn’t help noting how distant he looked, as though he were a statue given voice. “That will depend upon the discretion of our brave traders. As pertains the first group, five of the six are unicorns, while one is a pegasus.” The mauve stallion retorted, several ponies near him glaring at him reproachfully for the breach of conduct. “Are you going to allow the non-unicorns to further infest our city? We risk division over these half-breeds, we’ve already taken in more than we can manage!”
Before the Grand Vizier could retort, another pony stood up in the back rows just below their balcony. “Where will the refugees be housed? Where will they work, and will they be entitled to a full citizen’s rations?” The wizened Vizier of , his long silver beard spilling halfway to the floor, spoke tremulously but with the force of magical projection, “The unicorn refugees will be housed in the refugee quarters upon the Temple Mount, and will become honored guests until such time as they pass their screenings for full citizenship. Thereafter they shall be assigned positions in the thaumetricity plant. As for the pegasus, he shall temporarily stay with the unicorns in their lodgings on the Temple mount until such time as he passes his screening for conscription into the Aerie, whence he would join the…”
More shouting interrupted his recital. A green mare a few seats below Aria and her family was first to regain her decorum enough to perform a vocal enhancement spell. Her fiery voice cut smoothly over the noise echoing in the vaulted chamber. “This is ridiculous! Why is the avian pony being put up by the Temple? Shouldn’t it be given to the Aerie?”
The wizened old vizier’s quavering tones again rang magically through the gilded heights of the Temple. “The Aerie, being primarily composed of Bitzantine pegasus legions and their families, is unwilling to host the Roanan pegasus refugee due to fears of misconduct. We are therefore required to maintain the Roanan pegasus, as chartered in the Declaration of Friendly Relatio…”
“I will not live next to some bucking featherback!”
The angry retort from the green mare sparked a cacophony that shook the frescoed dome of the ceiling. Stella watched in mounting terror as she found herself surrounded by supporters of the agitator, several of whom leered at her menacingly while her parents shuffled protectively closer to her. A few made testing lunges over the ironwood pews towards them, only to jump back at her father’s sparking horn.
A vocal minority began to rebuke the mob a few rows down, and again there was pandemonium and the clean ozone scent of magic being cast. The viziers again called for order, and the mauve pony from earlier was hollering for justice. Then one of the protestors a few rows down beaned a beige stallion in the side of the head with a telekinetic kick. There was a sickening, wet crunch, and the stallion fell, inhaling great, gurgling snores while his legs jumped and shook.
A horn near the altar was blown twice, and immediately the great doors to the temple opened to the marching of metal-shod hooves. An entire maniple of soldiers barded in segmented golden plate marched in, a solid train of metal and malice pushing methodically through the crowds along the stairs and into the balcony, making for the attacker. The mare’s horn glowed magenta, the components of a teleportation spell nearly aligned in her mind, when she was struck by a thin ray of glittering golden magic. The Grand Vizier watched in grim satisfaction as the soldiers reached the panicked mare and bore her to the ground, arcane energy still tethering his horn to hers.
Three of the soldiers came to check on the downed pony. Aria was crying so hard she couldn’t see through her tears, but Stella found herself unable to turn her dry eyes away as the pony’s jerking slowed. The stallion’s wife was frantically clutching at his shoulder, her screams deafening even without magical aid. From her vantage two rows above, Stella could see the way the stallion’s head was unnaturally lumpy on one side, and the scarlet stain pooling beneath his body. A puddle spread from the stallion’s thighs as he flopped, the scent assaulting her nose.
One of the soldiers shook his head and stood, walking back towards the stairs. The crowd parted mutely for him, and they watched as those in the isles below did the same while the soldier made his way to the viziers along the altar. Words were briefly exchanged.
The murderer was brought to the foot of the altar as the still twitching body was loaded onto a stretcher and the newly minted widow was led wailing towards the exit. Blood leaked from the corner of the murderer’s badly bruised green mouth. She brought her gaze up to meet that of the Grand Vizier, shaking so heavily that she might have been seizing herself. He opened his mouth, and his voice rang loudly throughout the chamber. “Name yourself.”
It took several minutes for the mare to find her voice. “J… Jade St..Starfire, your Holiness.” A murmur went through the crowd at the proclamation; beside her, Stella’s parents seemed to tense, their gaze flitting to the front right end of the chamber. The Vizier fixed Jade with a passionless stare. “Jade Starfire, you are sentenced to death for the murder of a fellow pony in the Temple of the Celestial Sisters. No mercy shall they show you this day. May your soul find redemption in Tartarus.”
Before the mare could do more than start in wide-eyed disbelief, the Vizier’s horn flared golden, a thin beam once again alighting on her horn. A ball of blinding white light shot down the beam like an arrow, and when it struck her horn there was a meaty thud, and the appendage shot downwards into her head with a fountain of crimson. Her body flopped bonelessly to the marble floor. The pale mauve pony from the front right balcony cried out fearfully as a second ray found a home on his horn.
“I recognized you, Agate Starfire. Your cousin found herself stirring trouble at a very convenient time for your argument, and so far away from her place on your family’s bench too. What say you, Agate? Do you have an explanation for these strange circumstances? ” The mauve stallion was sweating profusely as he stammered, “I swear, your Holiness, I never wanted her to hurt anypony! She was just supposed to stir them up! I just didn’t want to live next to some bloody mutant, please your Divine Grace, please don’t kill me!”
The crowd near Agate began to back away slowly, fearful of another immediate reprisal from the Grand Vizier. Indeed, another ball of energy, this one a cooler gold, floated down the beam towards the frantic mauve unicorn trying desperately to move his anchored hooves. When it touched his horn; there was a flash of white light; several ponies screamed, and when everypony’s vision cleared Agate’s hooves and horn were shackled and he was gagged.
The Grand Vizier turned to the Council and they began to confer in hushed tones. Several gesticulated violently when they were called on to opine, their gazes falling vindictively on the condemned, who shivered and flinched whenever they gestured to him. The crowd’s volume began to slowly grow, like the buzzing of angry bees. Stella was reminded absurdly of the sounds of the city wafting in through the classroom window.
In time the conference ended, and the viziers once again took their places, their muzzles fixed in hard executioner’s grimaces. The Grand Vizier spoke in a ringing voice that seemed to magically carry to every pony in attendance.
“Agate Starfire, you conspired in a time of great danger to further your arguments by creating a riot within the Temple of the Celestial Sisters, undermining the authority of this Celestial Council and facilitating the death of Pyrite Gleam. In these troubled times, when even the once invincible Roanan Empire may fall, every citizen of Petrot is entrusted with maintaining the peace and secrecy of our society. Even the slightest misstep is fatal; we cannot afford to falter. You are clearly not equal to this burden. You are a liability not only to yourself, but to our entire city, now the last refuge for equine kind.
“Taking into account your ‘peaceful’ intentions, you are not to be sentenced to death. You are therefore sentenced to permanent banishment from the city and lands of Petrot from now until the end of your days. Three fifths of your estates shall be transferred to House Gleam in reparation for your cousin’s transgressions. From this day until the end of time, no foal bearing the surname Starfire shall be named Agate, on pain of death. All mentions of Agate Starfire in the records shall be expunged, and no image of Agate Starfire shall be displayed publicly. So to all who endanger the precious citizens of Petrot with pettiness and self-interest.”
The rest of the proceedings passed without interruption.
Midnight found Stella staring restlessly at her ceiling, exhaustion failing to overtake her tumultuous mind. Glancing at the digital clock on her bedside table, she gave up on the notion of sleep. School was cancelled tomorrow in any event, to give everypony time to mourn the dead and take stock.
With slow, practiced movements, the lavender filly slipped from her covers and fluttered quietly to the window latch. The well-oiled hook slipped free with no revealing squeak, and the window’s hinges likewise blessed her with their silence. Leaving the curtain caught in the window to keep the way for her return, she took off into the concealing darkness.
Her wings and her hooves alternated as she cut between low-ceilinged passageways and sky-roofed alleys, barely conscious of the familiar path she beat through the slumbering city. The smoke of the thaumetricity plant drifted like a smudge in the air above her, obscuring the muffled light that beat through the magical tarp concealing the city.
Keeping to the shadows between the puddles of neon brilliance surrounding the late-night food stalls and bad-idea tattoo parlors, Stella soon found herself before a refuse pile occupying the dead end of an alleyway built deep into the cliff-face. The familiar stench of rotting vegetables and the bitter, alien tang of meat was at once wretched and reassuring.
She trotted up to a stained blanket seemingly draped over a ripped bag of refuse. Beneath the blanket, a tunnel through the trash took her to a metal trashcan-lid, hinged along its right side. Slipping her wingtip carefully through the opening to the left of the makeshift door, she pressed the secret safety latch and opened it. She stepped in, closing the hatch with her and flicking on the room’s sole, bare lightbulb.
On the battered sofa in the small room beyond the trash wall, a palomino colt gave a rather high-pitched yelp as he jumped to his hooves, becoming tangled in his blankets in the process. As he fell to the dirt floor and began to thrash, Stella burst out laughing and trotted over to help. “Relax, Briar, it is only me.”
The colt gave her an unamused glower from between the threadbare folds of his fabric prison as Stella worked to untangle his front hooves. “What time is it anyway, Stella? Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Once his forelegs were free, the lavender filly flopped onto the squashy old cushions of the couch with an appreciative little sigh. “I could not sleep,” she said dismissively, flicking his nose with her flight feathers as he managed to wriggle the rest of the way out of the bedding.
Sneezing and redoubling his glare, Briar joined her on his couch. “Besides,” she continued, “There is no class tomorrow, and no work for you either.” His eyes widened as the previous day’s events returned to him. “Oh yeah. The ‘Day of Mourning’ or whatever.” The sound of thunder cut through the chamber, loud as if they were outside in the storm instead of deep within the rock. “Can you imagine?” Stella began quietly, “Everypony left of Roan is out there in that right now.”
After that, only the thunder and the drip of water in the leaky corner of the disused storage space broke the silence. The occasional flicker of the failing lightbulb set the shadows to dancing upon the peeling, moss-patched walls. Stella doubted Briar Patch even noticed the oddly worried glare he was wearing. Several minutes went by before she had built up the courage to interrupt his reverie. “Briar,” she whispered, “Are you…?”
“I’m fine, Stella.”
His lips had moved, but his eyes had not, continuing to bore into the crumbling wall as though he were seeing right through it. After a few more seconds, he finally shook himself and looked her in the eye. The concern in her gaze prompted a sigh from him. “All that stuff’s in the past,” he explained reluctantly, “I mean, it’s silly to be mad; I’m not a little foal anymore, and the city’s gone now.” Stella took in a breath to reply, but before she could he quickly changed the topic.
“So I heard about the thing at the Temple today with the Starfires,” he said in a valiant attempt at nonchalance. He had expected her to be annoyed at the obvious dissemble. He hadn’t counted on her wings drooping and her expression of pain and shock. Alarm set in when he noticed silent tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “Stella?” he asked, awkwardly putting a hoof on her shoulder. Beginning to cry in earnest, she wrapped her wing around him and buried her muzzle in his shoulder.
Bewildered, he gave a few awkward platitudes and rubbed a hoof along her shoulder. A quarter of an hour of his inept ministrations later she quieted her tears and withdrew from him. “I am sorry,” she said, voice thick with spent emotion, “I had just never seen anypony die before.” He nodded knowingly at her, voice sad as he said, “It never gets easier, but you get better at dealing with it.”
She sniffed and cleared her throat, a small smile returning. Then, uncharacteristically serious, she asked him, “Do ponies down here think that way about unicorns and pegasi?” “No,” was his swift reply, “We don’t. Those unicorns like that up in the Temple are just racist.” She smiled a bit at him, though her cyan eyes showed the budding orchid of new apprehension. “And… if I were to need to… um… if I need somewhere to go if things get…”
He pressed a hoof to her lips to shush her. “Of course you can come here if you need to. You’re here now, right? But I’m telling you, Stella, ponies like that aren’t worth worrying about. Nothing’s going to happen, you’ll see.” A yawn broke on Stella like a wave, prompting him to chuckle a bit. “You gonna be able to sneak home again?”
She bopped his nose with her wing and got to her hooves, trotting to the exit. “I will be fine, Briar.” A deep yawn overtook her, her wings flexing slightly. “And thank you. I guess I just needed to get that out of me.” Turning to him at the door, she blushed slightly and added, “And… um, please do not tell anypony about this.” He grumbled as he laid back down, waving her on. “Who would I tell anyway,” he groused, his tone at complete odds with the smile on his face. Her own smile restored despite her weary eyes, she slipped out and flicked off the light.
Wild yowling and incoherent screams lit the night air aflame. The panicked ponies frantically weaved through the chaotic trees, fleeing the quickly approaching shouts. The ‘forest’ had sprung up around them as they set up camp last evening, each ‘tree’ different than the last. Most of the refugees she was travelling with were asleep when the madponies arrived.
Even as she dodged several licorice-tentacle-branches that had reached down to grab her, the indigo mare saw another of her fellow Roanans ahead fail to dodge the upward flowing water that made up the trunk of one of the chaos trees. His hide and flesh rotted so quickly he didn’t have time to scream, bones disintegrating to dust before they could land on the quilted ground. She whimpered, and ran harder.
A flickering light began to glow behind her, illuminating the wriggling, billowing forest ahead of her. She heard several terrified screams behind her, and the glow lessened as she gained some ground. Tears streamed away from her in the rushing air, and the last flicker of her hope guttered in her heart.
Her front legs stuck to the tacky ground as she jumped over a root made entirely of gnashing jaws, sending her tumbling flat on her back. She could feel her shoulders pop and rip, eliciting a shriek of pain. The glow quickly intensified, and she saw that she was trapped in a viscous pink putty. ‘Bubble gum,’ she thought numbly, trying desperately to wrench her wings or hind legs free from the gunk.
She grew more and more frantic as the first of her pursuers arrived. He was naked, save for an eyepatch over a scarred cheek and a necklace hung with some meat she couldn’t identify. He stopped just within the field of her peripheral vision, silent and staring.
Several more arrived, each one more deformed and rambunctious than the last. Several small ones, surely no older than foalhood, darted to her and swiped at her sides with small blades, neatly slicing away small chunks. Several elaborately feathered pegasi shouted gibberish into both her ears, drowning out even her own cries. Shock began to set in, and she quieted a little as her head swam violently.
Suddenly, the wild herd fell silent. Hoofsteps sounded near her head. Languidly, dreamily, the bleeding mare turned to face the silent pony from before, his necklace finally visible. She screamed and screamed, her shock disappearing, until her throat tore and she wheezed bloodily. Several of her joints snapped as she tried desperately to tear her limbs off, wildly seeking escape. The severed genitals on the madpony’s necklace dripped into her bulging, bloodshot eyes as she looked into the stallion’s calm, crimson face above her. He smiled serenely.
