Absinthe Makes the Heart Go Yonder.

Chapters

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Some Notes on the Text

Chapter 1

If, for whatever reason, my pension ran out, I suppose I could make a living teaching geography. I've traveled the length and breadth of the world, setting hoof in just about any kingdom you can name: Saddle Arabia, Neighpon, Griffinstone, and so on. On the other hoof, I imagine I would make a terrible teacher, as I doubt a first-hand account of where to find the best cocktails or the flirtiest fillies in any given locale is on the average school's curriculum.

And yet, there's one place-- one strange, terrible, nameless place –that horrifies me more than the rest, even all these years later. It's the sort of thing that made my brief jaunt in Tartarus seem like a vacation in comparison. The irony is, I'm still not certain if the following account was something that actually happened, or if the whole thing was merely a strange, hallucinogenic episode brought on by my own vices.* Still, I find myself compelled to chronicle this particular episode, for posterity's sake, if nothing else.

*According to Princess Twilight Sparkle, either option is possible.

The trouble started, as trouble often does, in Ponyville.

I thought I could while away a quiet weekend with Carrot Top, tucked away in her cozy little cottage. No missions, no murders, no monsters. Naively optimistic, perhaps, but for once, things were relatively quiet for both Special Agent Golden Harvest and Equestria's most celebrated coward. And for the first day, things remained that way-- that is, until a pink pony jumped out of Carrot Top's refrigerator during brunch.

She caught me mid-sip of my coffee, and I nearly drowned myself as the piping-hot liquid went down the wrong pipe. Better than screaming in startled terror, I suppose. Carrot Top, however, did not spring into instant, murderous action, as one would expect from the Equestrian Intelligence Office's premiere hoof-to-hoof combatant. Instead, she calmly kept buttering her toast as the refrigerator-pony bounced around the room.

“PARTY TIME!” the plump pink pony said. “And you're invited!”

“What's the occasion, Pinkie?” Carrot Top smiled, and took a bite of her toast.

“It's Twilight's Moved-To-Ponyville-To-Discover-The-Meaning-of-Friendship-Versary, duh! Didn't you mark your calendar?”

“Must have slipped my mind.”

“Well! Good thing I came by!” The pink pony pulled an envelope from a saddlebag and plopped it onto the table in front of Carrot Top. “Everypony in town is gonna be there! There's gonna be music, and drinks, and snacks, and balloons, and it's going to be great! And you can even bring your plus-one here!” The pink pony made a show of winking suggestively in my direction.

“Thanks, Pinkie.” Carrot Top dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “Should we bring anything? There's not a theme, is there?”

“Nope! Just be there at six o'clock, and be ready to smile! I'll see you there, right? Right?” Her voice took on a slightly mad tone.

“Of course.” Carrot Top said.

“Great! I'd love to stay and chitchat more, but I've got a lot of work to do if I'm gonna personally invite every pony in Ponyville before the party starts! Byeeee!” And with that, she dove through an open window, and galloped off.

“Who--” I wheezed, finally recovering from my coffee-induced asphyxia, “Or what was that?”

“Oh, that? That's Pinkie Pie. She's always like that.”

“That's terrifying.”

“You get used to it.”

“That's more terrifying.”

“Sentry, after everything you've been through, she's what you're afraid of?”

“She jumped out of your refrigerator. How did she even get in there?”

“I've found it's best not to ask.”

“That's ... probably a good point.” I admitted. “But are you sure you want to go to whatever bacchanal she's putting on?”

“It'll be fine.” Carrot Top smiled. “Only about a quarter of Pinkie's parties end with something catching on fire. Which is probably better than your rate, now that I think of it.”

“That thing at the Grand Galloping Gala wasn't my fault, and you know it. I was just the first one who saw that fireworks cart explode.”

“A likely story.” Carrot Top leaned across the table and kissed me on the cheek anyway. “But this should be fine. Pinkie Pie knows everything there is to know about throwing a party. She sets up the decorations, bakes the food, mixes the drinks-- she's probably the best bartender in town, now that I think of it. You'll have fun, I promise.”

“I'm holding you to that.”

And for a while, Carrot Top was right. I did have fun.

Princess Twilight Sparkle's castle was big enough to hold the entire population of Ponyville, and then some. Ponies laughed, danced, drank, flirted, and otherwise amused themselves. Carrot Top and I made our token hellos to Princess Twilight Sparkle herself, and then retreated to the periphery. Thankfully, the Princess had more than enough to keep her busy. If she spent too much time with me, Princess Twilight would no doubt fall in love with me (again) and/or send me off on some new and horrible quest so I could get myself nearly torn to shreds “for the good of Equestria.”

Again.

Thankfully, no such missions or assignations were in the making. At first, it seemed the worst I'd have to deal with was a blue pegasus who had an obviously-dyed mane, a damned impressive wingspan, and an embarassingly low tolerance for alcohol.

“I don't get it.” The pegasus squinted at me, critical. “If you're so great, how come you're not a Wonderbolt?”

“Rainbow!” Her friend, a frankly stunning unicorn with a posh accent, scolded her. “Don't be rude!”

“It's a valid question!” The pegasus said.

“No, no, it's fine.” I waved a hoof, airily. “She's right-- I'm not cut out for the Wonderbolts. I've always been more ... well, hooves on, I suppose. Which is how I got this scar--” I turned my head so the pegasus could see the dueling scar Carrot Top had given me when we first met.* “And this one--” I showed off the thin white line drawn down my right foreleg.** “And this--” I concluded the tour by stretching my wings out to show the slightly miscolored spot where a clump of feathers grew back after a flying monkey bit them off.***

*See: The Prisoner of Zebra.

**See: Sentry at the Charge

***See: Carrot & Stick.

“How ... devoted of you.” The unicorn said, looking faintly queasy.

“Whoa!” The pegasus, in the meanwhile, marveled. “That's hardcore.”

“All in the line of duty.” I said at my most heroically dismissive. That was the real key to banking on one's reputation-- a braggart can boast all he likes, but the real way to impress ponies was to act as if getting chewed on by dragons was just another day at the office. It's the sort of thing I like to trot out for free drinks, but it's also wonderful for taking the wind out of somepony's sails if they're being a prat. But, just to twist the knife a little more, I added on: “Though now that I think of it, I did fly with the Wonderbolts once-- Charge of the Flight Brigade, you know.”

“Wait. You were there?” The pegasus said.

“Leading the formation, actually.” I said, offhoofedly. “I think somepony even wrote a poem about it.”

“That ... that's really ... that's wow.” The pegasus' suspicion morphed instantly to a more intrigued look. “So, uh ... you wanna like, race or something sometime?”

“Rainbow.” The unicorn cleared her throat. “I think we've taken enough of the good fellow's time, don't you?” And with that, she none-too-discreetly started dragging her friend towards the other side of the party. “It's been a pleasure, Mr. Sentry!” the unicorn said with forced cheer.

“Somebody's popular.” Carrot Top, who had remained silent through the whole conversation, looked up at me and arched a brow.

“For the record, she was flirting with me.” I noted. “Rather badly, too. It's a lucky thing her friend was there to pull her away before she could embarrass herself further.”

“Uh-huh.” Carrot Top rolled her eyes, and nudged me playfully. Her eyes may have been green, but thankfully she was hardly the jealous sort. “And that bit with the scars? It's a good thing I've got a good poker face, otherwise I would've died laughing.”

“It's not my fault some mares find my scars attractive.” I said, even as the two of us made for a dark but cozy alcove behind a large crystal pillar.

“I don't.”

“That's because you're responsible for most of them.”

“I'm also responsible for why you're still here to show those scars off.”

“That goes both ways. How many times have I saved your life, now?”

“I've lost count.”

“So have I.”

With each quip, Carrot Top and I edged closer and closer to each other, 'til we stood nose to nose-- and then lips-to-lips a short while after that. In retrospect, we quite insufferable, to be honest-- one of those couples, prone to devolving into flirty inside jokes and the like. Only in our case, our flirty inside jokes came from a career of espionage and mayhem. At least we had the common courtesy to keep our canoodling comparatively concealed.

A short bit later, Carrot Top put a gentle hoof on my chest and pushed me away. “Easy, Sentry. We're supposed to be having fun.”

“Oh, I am.” I said, and leaned in again.

Carrot Top laughed-- a delightful sound –but turned her lips away from mine at the last moment. “There'll be time for that later. I didn't drag you to this party just so we could make out in the corner.”

“No?”

“My bedroom's more comfortable anyway.”

“Ah.”

“Just consider it ... incentive.” Carrot Top patted me on the cheek. “Now, I've got to use the bathroom-- try to stay out of trouble while I'm gone.”

“How much trouble could I get into in the time it takes-- wait, no, don't answer that.”

Carrot Top laughed again, kissed me on the cheek, and slipped off. I watched her go (quite the pleasant sight, I might add) until she disappeared around a corner. And so, with my date temporarily gone, I opted to get a drink. And so, I wound my way through the crowd-- I supposed I could have just flown over their heads, but I didn't want to attract too much attention.

I skirted the dance floor, finally coming to the well-appointed bar set up in one corner of the hall.

“Hi Flash!” The pink pony from before popped up from behind the bar, this time wearing a bow tie. “Want the special?”

“There's a special?” I said.

“Yup!” The pink pony immediately set about a complicated, practiced ritual involving a stemmed glass, a slotted spoon, a bottle of some ominous green liquor, and a sugarcube which she set on fire. She blew out the flame, stirred the sugar into the liquor, and then pushed the resulting concoction to me.

“And ... just what is this, exactly?”

“Absinthe! It's super special and hard to get and it's like forty percent alcohol by volume!”

“Intriguing.” I said, and took a sip of the sweet-but-bitter liquid. It seared its way down my throat, and I licked my lips. “Not half bad, either.” I took another swig, drinking a good third of the cocktail in one go. With the amount of sugar in the cocktail, the absinthe went down pretty easily. Too easily. A proper drink is something you want to savor, not guzzle down like so much fruit soda. (Not that absinthe tastes anything like fruit soda, but you get the idea).

“I knew you'd like it!” The bartender pony said, and bounced away, balancing a tray of pintglasses on her head. “Let me know if you start hallucinating!” She called out as she pranced off.

“Wait what?” A familiar warmth spread out from my chest as the alcohol began to kick in. At least, I hoped it was the alcohol I was feeling. I'm no lightweight (indeed, carousing is one of the few things I'm actually good for), but the Absinthe-and-sugar concoction the pink pony foisted on me was potent stuff. I took a step away from the bar, only to find my footing far less solid than I would have preferred. The whole ballroom swayed, as if it'd been put on a gently rocking boat. Thankfully, that was the worst of it: no hallucinations.

Yet.

I glanced around for Carrot Top, but she was nowhere to be found. Still in the ladies room, I supposed. Which seemed like a good idea, once I thought about it. I'd already had two or three drinks before the absinthe, so a visit to the facilities seemed like a good idea. And so, I waited 'til the world stopped rocking before setting out down a side hallway.

It was about then when I realized I had absolutely no idea where the bathroom was. You'd think somepony would have put up a sign or something for the party, but there were none to be found. I wandered lost for a time, and finally staggered into what had to be Princess Twilight Sparkle's famous library. For the most part, it was just what would expect-- every inch of wall space was taken up by bookshelves, which were in turn stuffed with books on nearly any subject you could name (and quite a few more you couldn't). A few tables and chairs were arranged about, each bit of furniture 'decorated' with a stray book-- Princess Twilight's latest research, or perhaps just casual reading.

What I didn't expect, however, was the mirror. It seemed to be a more recent addition from the last time I'd visited Princess Twilight's palace, as I didn't recall seeing it then. It was a rather large affair, surrounded by odd brass contraptions sticking out from the frame. Modern art, I supposed. Though it seemed a bit uncharacteristic for the princess-- after all, wasn't the whole point of a library to stick one's nose in a book, rather than waste time ogling one's own reflection? Princess Twilight never struck me as particularly vain or conceited; the mirror must have been a gift.

Still, I was glad to find it. The absinthe had me feeling slightly off-kilter, but thus far hadn't produced any hallucinations like that pink pony had warned about. But, just to be sure, I trotted up to the mirror, using it to take stock of myself. And, thankfully, I was still my own handsome self. There was the same strong jaw, windswept mane, and the faint dueling scars to add just a dash of dangerous mystery. No wonder that pegasus with the dye job had thrown herself at me.

Better yet, my eyes weren't bloodshot, nor was my reflection talking back to me, so perhaps the effects of the absinthe were overstated. That, or my well-practiced liver was enough to filter out the worst the absinthe had to offer. Either way, I figured I'd be fine-- in fact, I resolved to get another drink (albeit something lighter-- a cool Chardoneigh, perhaps) once I got back to the party. By then, Carrot Top would likely be done with her business, and then the two of us could flirt and dance and otherwise be one of those saccharine-sweet couples you see prancing about on Hearts and Hooves day like they invented the concept of romance.

I found myself looking forward to it.

And so, with this in mind, I took a moment to make sure my hair was perfectly arranged, then winked at my reflection. “Good luck, you handsome bastard.” I told myself, and playfully rapped upon the mirror--

--which is when all the machinery sparked to terrible life, and the mirror pulled me in.

Chapter 2

I screamed, of course.

So would you. It's something else to have every atom of one's body stretched and twisted by magic, reducing one's essence to a liquified form so it can be piped through a bright-neon hell for a few short eternities. It must have been the wormwood kicking in-- that pink pony wasn't lying about how strong the absinthe was. Still, that knowledge was hardly comforting as the cosmological forces of the universe took a proverbial whisk to my not-so-proverbial soul. Indeed, the pain coursing through my body (or what was left of it) was enough to make me think there was actual justice in the universe, to make a lout like me properly suffer for all the terrible things I've done.

It's something of a long list.

But thankfully, before I could get too repentant, reality coalesced around me once more.

At which point I threw up.

Copiously.

Which, again, is an entirely fair reaction for anypony who isn't used to these sort of magical shenanigans. It's one thing to fly like a proper pegasus, but the terrible and eldritch magics involved in inexplicably translocating oneself from one place to another without crossing the space between are, quite frankly, unnatural.

Thankfully, I was able to hunch over and retch my guts out without getting sick all over myself. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths-- instinctively, intuitively, I knew something was very, very wrong, even if I couldn't place my hoof on it. But, I'd been through enough drunken benders to know that sometimes you have to slow down, drink some water, and take stock of your situation. Provided, of course, the authorities aren't chasing you or anything, but that's another matter entirely.

And so, I wiped a bit of vomit from the corner of my mouth, forced my eyes open, and took stock of my surroundings. I was no longer in Twilight's library-- or even in Ponyville, for that matter. It was still early evening, however, with the sun only beginning to set on the horizon. I'd somehow staggered into (and subsequently puked on) some kind of courtyard, with a large pedestal of some sort in the middle, and a walkway leading up to a large brick building. I didn't recognize the architecture-- though if nothing else, I figured I could get a feel for wherever I was if I found a handy cloud to perch on.

Which is when I realized I couldn't feel my wings.

I would have screamed again, but I'd already run my throat ragged moments before. And so, I could do little but turn and flail about-- which is when, in short order, I came to several more horrifying epiphanies about the current state of my body. I stumbled towards the large building, and looked at my reflection in a window.

I stared into a face that was mine, but not. My normally handsome visage had been flattened, compressed, from a stately muzzle to a vaguely oval-ish shape that was only vaguely reminiscent of my previous good looks. My 'dueling' scars were gone, to boot-- along with any sense of dashing dangerousness they might have provided.

A healed-yet-mangled face was bad enough, but the rest of me was even in worse condition. As in one of the more unique miseries I'd ever endured, my body had been twisted and mutated into that of a ... thing. Some sort of hairless, bipedal ape, by the look of it.

No wings, no hooves, no tail-- there was the only slightest hint of the actual Yours Truly in the coloration of the eyes and hair. And even then there was far too much gel in my sorry excuse for a mane, making me look like the result of a drunken tryst between a drunken orangutan and an overly amorous hedgehog.

Despairing, I ran a hand over my face-- and nearly puked again as I realized that I had hands. I was well traveled enough to meet the occasional Dragon, Minotaur, or even some of the Abysinnian Catfolk-- all creatures who happen to have opposable digits at the ends of their arms. I was also well traveled enough to know that how utterly disgusting such a quirk of anatomy was. Seriously, creatures with fingers are always touching things-- with one's forehooves, whatever one's unfortunate enough to step in (changeling ichor, for example) will, in short time, be wiped away as one walks about (or stomps on a cloudbank, for the pegasus sorts). In contrast, bipedal, be-fingered creatures are left to flail around with their filth-coated digits all willy nilly, until somepony reminds them to wash their malformed limbs.

One can imagine my distress upon discovering I was one of said bipedal, be-fingered creatures.

I gibbered in incoherent terror for a few moments, then forced myself to turn away from my horrible reflection. Which is when I noticed the other hideous primates ambling around the courtyard. Slowly, with an ever-worsening epiphany of horror, I realized that I recognized them. Kind of.

For, you see, many of the two-legged troglodytes shared the same hair styles and colors of ponies I'd seen at the party. I wasn't sure if this was simply just part of an absinthe fueled hallucination, or if the mirror was some sort of horrible, mutagenic doomsday weapon Princess Twilight left laying around. No, that wasn't right-- Princess Twilight was hardly the sort to harbor such a thing. A carelessly secured magical experiment, on the other hoof ... I'd been in Canterlot during that fiasco with the giant centipede, after all.

Still, the ponies-turned-primates ambling around weren't screaming or panicking as any sensible creature would have upon being transmogrified into something so horrible. They just went about their business, chatting and laughing and more often than not staring into strange, glowing, tile-sized devices. That certainly made me think it more a hallucination, if nothing else. None of them took notice of me (or of the mess I'd left a dozen yards back).

But then, hope.

For, amongst the crowd, I was able to pick one figure out in particular. Or rather, a familiar frizzy pouf of orange. Surely, Carrot Top would know what was going on. That was her job, after all. For all I knew, she'd probably invited me to Ponyville that particular weekend on purpose, knowing that this horribleness would happen. Alternately, if I was merely hallucinating, Carrot Top would be the best pony to keep an eye on me until my brain started working properly again.

I managed not to trip over my feet as I rushed across the courtyard, finally coming up to grab the orange-haired young lady by the shoulders.

“Carrot!” I said, not bothering to hide the relief in my voice. “Damnation, am I glad to see you!”

“Flash? Flash Sentry?” She looked up at me with green, bewildered eyes. “Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what?”

“With an accent.”

“What bloody accent?”

“Are you ... feeling alright? I heard you called in sick today.” Carrot Top eyed me, suspicious.

“I've been better.” I said. “But nevermind that-- just please tell me you know what's going on here?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” Carrot Top said.

“Oh hell, you're not going to pretend this is one of those 'need to know' things, are you? I hate it when you go all Special Agent Golden Harvest.”

At that, Carrot Top's eyes went wide in horror. She stiffened, then looked over one shoulder, than the other, as if to make sure no one had overheard us. Finally, she grabbed me by the blue shirt I was wearing, and yanked me in to whispering range. “You know?”

“Of course I do.” I said, blithely.

“How did you ... oh no.” Carrot Top groaned, releasing me. “Ditzy told you, didn't she? She promised me she wouldn't tell anyone I played Ogres and Oubliettes!”

“Wait, what?” I said.

“I thought you were better than that, but I guess I was wrong. You just had to gloat about it once you found out, huh?” Carrot Top said. I recognized the angry glare she shot my way, but yet, uncharacteristically, there wasn't any physical violence to come with it. She sniffed a bit, and then stepped back. “I guess the 'soulless ginger' jokes weren't enough, huh? Now you're going to call me-- what, a nerd? A geek? A loser?”

“I wasn't—”

“Did Sunset Shimmer put you up to this?”

“Who?”

“Don't play stupid with me!”

“I assure you, Carrot, I'm not playing stupid.”

“Oh just ... just ... shut up!” Carrot Top fumed. She glowered at me for a second longer before she turned her back on me, walking away in a huff. "Go make fun of someone else, jerk!"

“That could have gone better.” I murmured to myself. My mind reeled as I watched Carrot Top stalk off. Or who I had thought was carrot top. She looked similar, and her voice was the same ... but it was like she had amnesia or something. At least a changeling would have gone on about 'true love' or some other sappy garbage before trying to suck my brains out through my eyeballs.

Dazed as I was, I didn't notice the other primate monsters creeping up behind me before it was too late.

“Flash! You made it!”

I tensed, turned, and found myself staring at two of of the biggest ape-creatures I'd ever seen. They wore matching blue tunics, stretched tight over their grotesque musculature. The lead one wore his hair in shaggy, irregular braids, while the other had a chalk-white complexion and a blonde buzzcut.

“YEAH!” said Buzzcut, at eardrum-testing volume.

“I can explain--” I said, stalling for time.

“You don't need to! Showing up to the big game even when you're sick-- that's dedication, man!”

“YEAH!”

“Now c'mon! We don't wanna be late-- The Wondercolts are gonna need their star quarterback!”

And with that, the two brutes 'escorted' me to a locker room on the other side of the building. A good two dozen more ogres were there, strapping themselves into bulky armor, no doubt in preparation for some terrible battle to come. Dry-mouthed, just short of trembling, I followed suit— I saw no opening to pull a runner, not to mention that armor seemed like a good idea right then. And so, I swapped out my strange (and frankly pedestrian) outfit for a stranger one still, but one that at least offered a modicum of protection.

No sooner had I buckled a helmet down upon my gel-shellacked hair, an older ape-creature with mirrored sunglasses and a thick black moustache stalked around a corner, making a beeline for yours truly.

“Sentry!” he growled, “I thought you called in sick! You up for action?”

For the first time since I'd been excreted through the magical mirror, I knew exactly what to do.

“Couldn't keep myself away, sir.” I said, adopting a properly stoic tone. The effect was somewhat lessened when my voice cracked-- just another terrible thing about this new, hideous form I was in. “But don't worry, even though I've been under the weather, I'm still ready. Just tell me where to go.” I tempered my eagerness with the feigned cough I used whenever I wanted to get out of history class as a lad. Reverse psychology. Worked ... not every time, but often enough.

'Coach' eyeballed me for a long, appraising moment, then shook his head. “Dedication, Sentry. That's what I like about you. You're gonna go far, kid.” He clapped a heavy hand on my helmet, hard enough to make my teeth rattle. “But not today. I'm keeping you on the bench 'til you're at one hundred percent.”

I bit back a cry of victorious elation, instead solidifying my position with a plaintive complaint. “But--”

“No buts.” Coach shook his head, his decision final. This done, he turned to start bellowing at the rest of the armored youths, rounding them up for a last minute pep talk.

Coach launched into a bog-standard inspirational speech, going on about “hard work” and “determination” and “so what if Crystal Prep is undefeated this season?” I tuned him out-- I'd heard enough inspirational speeches (and shammed my way through delivering a couple, myself) to know the beats already. Not to mention the fact that an amateur sporting event paled in comparison to the harrowing fiascoes I'd been through. It's not as if things could get worse, I thought.

I was wrong.

I usually am.

They called it a game, but one could be forgiven for thinking otherwise. The 'game' itself was something akin to cloudball, just without the clouds, the flying, or any sense of common decency. The whole escapade reminded me of some sort of gladitorial contest, in which the so-called 'Wondercolts' smashed themselves into a line of even bigger, even uglier brutes in purple helmets. At every charge, a fresh round of cheering rose from the packed bleachers. There were about a half-dozen female primates standing on the sidelines, cheering away in skirts short enough to be somewhat distracting if one was, again, a horrible primate creature. Not a proper set of wings on a single one of them, either.

Lucky for me, my 'brave but wounded soldier' act was enough to keep me on the sidelines, well out of harm's way. I had ample company before long, however-- every few plays, the Crystal Prep brutes would lay out one of ours, to the point where it seemed the purple-clad-primates were trying to win the game through attrition. With dawning horror, I realized that Coach would have to start digging into his reserves-- and when he had to scrape the bottom of the barrel, he'd find Yours Truly.

And so, I waited 'til a particularly violent play on the field drew everyone's attention, and then slowly, silently got to my feet. It wouldn't do to up and bolt (no matter how much I wanted to)-- that would only draw unwanted attention. On the field, there was a jarring crunch of impact, and yet another one of the Wondercolts was smashed to the ground.

I was too slow-- for no sooner had I gotten my feet under me, Coach wheeled around and jabbed a finger at me. “Sentry! You're up!”

“Me?” I blurted.

“I know I said I wouldn't put you in, but Quick Snap's hurt, so you're all we got!” He clapped me on the shoulder, then showed me a clipboard laden with arcane tactical diagrams. “We're only down by two points, and we've still got half a minute on the clock-- you just have to push far enough forward to make a field goal, and then we've got this in the bag. Remember your playbook-- scram right, but watch the pocket. Don't be afraid to use the end-around if you need to. You got that?”

“Er, yes?” I lied by reflex.

“Good! Now get out there, Sentry!” Coach shoved me in the direction of the playing field, and I had little choice but to walk out there. And while approached the field with all the enthusiasm of a prisoner facing the gallows, the crowd at my back certainly made up for it with their own enthusiasm, breaking into wild cheering as soon as my foot stepped over the white chalk line. Of course, they weren't the ones throwing themselves into certain danger, either.

I kept my eyes on the field, and took up what I guessed was my position. I at least had a couple of beefy ape-things between myself and Crystal Prep's brutes, so that could delay my inevitable beating a little while longer.

“Uh. Right.” I said, glancing this way and that. “Let's ... uh, let's do this.”

And that's when all hell broke loose.

One of the Wondercolts threw the strange, egg-shaped ball at me-- it struck me in the center of the chest, and I instinctively grabbed hold of it. No sooner had I gotten a grip on the ball, Crystal Prep's goon squad bowled over the Wondercolts like so many ninepins and thundered down on me.

So I ran.

There may have been some terrified shrieking on my part, but it was drowned out by the roar of the crowd. I retreated a couple of yards, trying to put as much distance between myself and the locomotive’s worth of angry armored ogres, but yet another of the purple bastards circled around from the left, cutting off my avenue of retreat. He dove at me, and I sprang away at the last moment, barely avoiding getting crushed beneath his bulk.

And so, I dug my feet into the turf and ran toward the oncoming brutes, albeit at an angle. Not out of any sense of bravery, mind you, but rather because the most cowardly (and therefore wisest) parts of my brain had registered that the Crystal Prep troglodytes were too massive to change direction quickly. I ducked beneath a swipe of a purple-sleeved arm and simply kept running, leaving the grunting monstrosities behind.

That wasn't the end of it, though. As there were more brutes downfield-- most of them chased after or grappled with their Wondercolt equivalents (handily besting them, in most cases), but the more observant on the enemy side sighted in on me with beady eyes and started lumbering to intercept.

I zigged and zagged across the field, using my instinctive cowardice to steer clear of the purple brutes. Several times, one or another would launch themselves at me, but I was able to spring away just in time. Compared to some of the other horrible monstrosities that have tried to kill me over the years, those brutish, pale-skinned louts were rank amateurs. I ran, nearly in a frenzy-- not knowing where I was running to, only taking confidence in the fact that I was running away from getting my bones shattered beneath the bulk of Crystal Prep's finest.

And then they stopped.

A fresh wave of ecstatic cheering rose up from the crowd, followed shortly by the harsh electric buzz of the time clock. With nothing trying to kill me (at least for the moment), I let myself stop-- only to notice I'd just crossed into the scoring-zone at the opposite end of the playing field. Bewildered, I let the egg-ball tumble from my fingers; through my panicked flight, I'd kept hold of the damn thing without even knowing it.

No sooner had the ball hit the turf, the rest of the Wondercolts were upon me. I would have bolted, but I was still winded and sweating from my earlier performance. My 'comrades' laughed and cheered, soon hauling me up upon their shoulders. The audience came next, vaulting over the railings to rush the field in celebration. I could do little but ride the literal wave of enthusiasm as a horde of hideous ape-things (some of which were even wearing pony-eared headbands to add an even more surreal element to the affair) circled around in frantic joy. The whole thing seemed a bit much, to be honest. I've literally won wars with less fanfare, and here the Wondercolts were whipping themselves into a frenzy all over a stupid game. A game I won by accident, no less. At least the chanting was somewhat flattering.

“FLASH! FLASH! FLASH!”

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Chapter 3

“Hi Flash!” A pink-haired primate practically pounced onto me as I left the locker room. “You going to the party?”

“There's a party?” As soon as the words left my lips, I realized I had no idea of what I was going to do, trapped in this hallucination or hell-world or whatever it was.

“Of course there's a party! Only the nice part is it's a victory party, instead of a 'sorry you guys got beat by the best team in the division' party! Isn't that great?”

“I ... suppose so?”

“And since you're the guy who made it be a fun party instead of a sad one, you've just got to come! There's gonna be music, and drinks, and snacks, and balloons, and it's going to be great! I promise!”

“Sounds pleasant.” I said.

“It's gonna be more than pleasant, lemme tell ya! It's even gonna be over at Rarity's house! Or, like, Rarity's parents house, I guess, 'cause their name's on the title and all but Rarity's dad is a huge football fan so he told Rarity to tell me to tell you that everybody's gonna go over there and party aaaaaaall night!” The pink one gasped for breath, as if she'd forgotten to do so in her enthusiasm. “So I'll see you there, right?”

“YEAH!” The blonde, buzzcut brute said as he strode out of the locker room behind me.

And that was that.

And so, the Wondercolts (along with the cheerleaders, and a significant percentage of the audience from the stands) piled into a convoy of strange, ramshackle vehicles. They were like wagons, only made of metal and propelled by loud, smoke-belching motors. It would've been a lot more efficient if they'd just used a train, but again, I was in the realm of a barbaric race of monsters-- or I was just hallucinating the whole thing. I still wasn't sure which.

A short while later, the caravan rolled up to a modest but elegant house tucked away at the end of a suburban cul-du-sac. By the look of things, the party was well underway, with dozens of the ape-things visible through the tall windows. Swept up with a knot of Wondercolts, I could do little but head inside. Two middle-aged ape-creatures at the door greeted us warmly.

“Just make yourself at home, kids!” A matronly female said, offering freshly baked snacks.

“And this must be the man of the hour!” A fearsomely moustached brute said as soon as he saw me. He looked down at me with the look of an old veteran, surveying the next crop of recruits. “Did better than even I did, back when I was your age! You're gonna go far, kid.” He gave me a 'friendly' punch on the shoulder, which only left a light bruise.

“Oh, you're boring him!” The matronly ape fussed at what I could only assume was her husband. “Don't mind him, kids-- he just likes to remember back when he played football, and ... oh! Now I'm the one being nostalgic!” she giggled, and then foisted another cookie on me. “You kids have fun, okay? We'll be upstairs if you need anything.”

Thusly greeted, I rounded a corner to the party proper. It was more-than-vaguely similar to the party at Princess Twilight's palace, only if it had been relocated to quaintly domestic house, and populated by a motley collection of primates. Still, the banners-and-balloons decor was the same, as was the music. What was most striking, however, was the fact the ape-creatures bore nearly the same coloration and hairstyles of the pony-guests I'd chatted with before I touched that wretched absinthe. In fact, I even saw a bespectacled and bipedal version of Princess Twilight herself, chatting away with a couple of her friends in the corner. I considered trying to corral her off to tell her just what was going on, but I thought the better of it. If I was just hallucinating, then I would just make an ass of myself to the real Princess, blathering on about how hideous she looked without her hooves or wings or what have you. Alternately, if I wasn't hallucinating, Princess Not-Twilight would likely react how Carrot Top did. That is, badly.

There was, however, one thing I was sure of.

“I need a drink.”

Again, the pink party primate stood watch over a small table laden with cups, punchbowl, and a small collection of bottles.

“Wine, please.” I said.

“But I don't waaaaaaaaanna!”

“Very funny.” The corner of my eye may have twitched.

“Thanks!” She winked at me, giggling. “I learned that one from Rarity!”

“Just ... something red, will you?”

“Okay!” Within moments, she foisted a paper cup on me. Within moments, I knew it was wrong.

“This is sugar water.”

“Cherry flavored sugar water! It's red, just like you asked!”

“You don't have any wine, do you.”

“Nope!”

“Port?”

“Of course not!”

“Whiskey?”

“Why would we have that?”

“Rum? Beer? Scrumpy?”

“Nope, nope, and I don't know what that last one is.”

“If you've got to ask, it's a 'no.'” I rubbed at my face. “What do you have?”

“Juice! Punch! Cider!”

“Then I'll take a-- wait. It's ... it's not non-alcoholic cider, is it?”

“Of course it is!”

I groaned. Perhaps I had died, and this entire realm of ape-creatures was my punishment for my many, many misdeeds. Still, I persisted, as damn if I hadn't earned myself a drink after all of this. “So you mean to tell me, you put together a party ... without a dram of alcohol?”

“Of course! We can't drink, silly! That'd be illegal! We're under the drinking age!”

“What.” Definitely a punishment-based afterlife. One of the 'ironic' kinds you read about in short story anthologies.

“We're still in high school! We're too young to drink! That's what the law says.”

“Is that all?” I said, and shook my head. “You're not serving proper refreshments just because of what some bureaucrats think will be the best for you?”

“Um. Yes?”

“Listen to me.” I said, and leaned in close. “You don't see any of the constabulary here, do you?”

The pink one looked over my shoulder, scanning the crowd. “Nope! I don't see any policemen, either!”

“Perfect.” I said. “For you see, Miss Pink--”

“My last name's Pie.”

“For you see, Miss Pie--” I didn't miss a beat, “This 'law' you're talking about is obviously an immoral one. I mean, I don't know about you, but I certainly have earned the right to a properly relaxing libation, I'd say.”

And her blue eyes went wide in understanding. “You're right! I've saved the world, like ... five times now! Maybe six! I should get to drink whatever I want!”

“That's the spirit!” I patted her on the shoulder, and tried not to think about what kind of perilous catastrophes that would've required the services of the manic creature in front of me. “In fact, seeing as of how this 'drinking age' business is an obviously immoral law, it's our moral duty to flaunt it.”

“Oh wow, when you put it that way, I almost have to start drinking!”

“My sentiments exactly.”

“Too bad we don't have anything with alcohol in it.” The would-be bartender's shoulders slumped, and mine did too. “I mean, we can't go out and buy any, and the only other booze in the house is in Rarity's parents liquor cabinet.”

“I can work with that.”

Turns out, filthy ape-hands are at least good for something, as, through the cunning application of hairpin and a butter knife, I was able to bypass the lock without much trouble. I wish I could say the doors parted with secret-treasure-fanfare of a Daring Do novel, but the contents of that cabinet were far more pedestrian. There were a few half empty bottles of basic cocktail ingredients, along with a few bottles of basic table wine. A bit pedestrian, but it would have to do. I picked out the bottle with the most interesting label (a halfway decent dry red, for the record) and fobbed the rest off on the pink one, who promptly started dispensing libations to her friends with a cry of “Vive la Resistance!”

Sadly, there wasn't any proper glassware handy. I wasn't patient enough to start rummaging through a stranger's kitchen (rummaging through their liquor cabinet was enough) and so I made do with a disposable plastic cup. I guzzled down the first cup of wine in a matter of moments, then poured myself another-- though I took time to appreciate that one.

Around me, the party went on as it did before-- only a little louder, a little rowdier, and occasionally punctuated by the sound of breaking glass. Between the carousing and the wine, it was almost enough to make me feel like I was back in Equestria. If I closed my eyes, at least.

The whole situation had the stink of magic about it, I decided. I still wasn't sure if this was some sort of hallucination or dream-quest or mass mutation, but whatever the cause was, hopefully there was some way out. I tapped my finger on the edge of my plastic cup-- until it came to me. It'd been some strange and terrible mirror-thing that had started this whole mess, so obviously all I had to do was find that same mirror again, and then I could wrap all this unpleasantness up. I'd found the original mirror while drunk at a party, and here I was again ...

I poured myself a third cup of wine.

A comfortable flush flowed through my cheeks, and I set about weaving through the crowd with the smooth gait of the mildly soused. I still had the cup in one hand, and the bottle of red in the other-- one has to hold onto one's provisions, after all. Ballet-graceful, I stepped around a soft-yellow ape-female with a lampshade on her head, past her rainbow-haired friend trying to get her to slow down a little, and over some poor sod who'd passed out on the floor after his first swig of corn liquor.

I went down a hallway, and the partying thinned-- just like it had at Princess Twilight's palace. Perfect. Vaguely remembering what I'd done when I was still a pony, I picked a door at random and stepped through, sure the malevolent mirror machine would be on the other side.

But, instead of stepping into a well-stocked library, I found myself in a clothier's workshop. There was a mirror, yes-- several, even, but without the strange and arcane machinery framing them. Various bolts of cloth and grotesque mannequins were scattered around the room, along with the other tools of the tailor's trade. Most notable, however, was the fact that the room was occupied by two females, and those two females were quite occupied with each other. The one with the purple hair seemed to be doing her damndest to lick the tonsils of the one in the farmer's hat, who in turn had her hands halfway into the other's waistband.

Well then. Not that room.

I pivoted on my heel, and eased the door shut behind me without being noticed. There are some things that shouldn't be intruded on, after all. I was about to start my search anew, but no sooner had I taken my first step, another of the primate-folk found me. I recognized her-- at least as far as one could recognize the ape-things: blonde hair, a sunny smile, and one eye skewed at an odd angle: Carrot Top's best friend, Ditzy Do.

“Hey.” She said, and sidled up to me with a saucy, not-entirely-sober smile.

“Oh, hello.” I said for politeness' sake. I stepped backwards, only to find my back pressed up against the wall. A terrible place for a coward, if there was one.

“Getting any ... ideas, Flash?” Ditzy Do (or at least her simian doppelganger) slunk closer to me.

“Not a one.”

“Well, I have an idea.” And with that, she took the cup of wine from my hand, pounded it down in a single gulp, and then tossed the empty over her shoulder.

“And that is ... ?” I said.

“This.” She grabbed hold of my jacket, and mashed her lips against mine.

I made a muffled cry of alarm, and wedged a hand between us to push her away as gently as I could manage. I'd seen far too many on-stage tragedies and melodramas to know that snogging the best friend of one's significant other could only end in disaster, even before one got to the magical hallucinations or what have you. That this Ditzy Do didn't even have wings to ogle made it even worse.

Ditzy didn't seem to notice. In fact, she looked down at my hand, which had wound up mashed against some squishy bit of her torso, and smiled. “Taking things fast, huh? I like that.”

And with that, she angled in once more, at which point I blurted out. “Wait!”

“Wait?” She blinked up at me with her innocent-but-not-entirely eyes.

“We can't do this.”

“Sure we can.” Ditzy Do nuzzled in against my neck. “Rarity told me Sweetie Belle's over at the Apple place for a sleepover. We can use her room--”

“Use her room to--” and then, the terrible, terrible realization hit me. My stomach turned, threatening to upheave the good quart of wine I'd already imbibed. Being turned into an ape was one thing, but the thought of copulating in such a form? You'd gag too. “Oh. That's disgusting.” I said.

Like I'd flipped a switch, Ditzy's soft smile melted away. She let go of my jacket, stepped back, and stared at me for a long, long moment as tears began to well up in her eyes.

“D-disgusting?” She whimpered. She drew in a shaky breath, trying (and failing) to compose herself. “That's what you think of me?” And before I could formulate a response, the blonde haired girl turned and dashed down the hallway, sobbing.

Stunned, I could only stare after her, and mumbled the only reply I could think of.

“That's what I think of everybody.”

Ah well. Ditzy's wasn't the first heart I'd broken, at least. The poor girl had obviously been taken in by my dashing charm (a universal constant, even in a world turned mad), and thought to throw herself at me. At least I'd nipped the whole thing in the bud early, before things could get too serious-- a crush, a whim, easily forgotten.

And so, I headed back to the party proper-- I'd have to slip through in order to resume my search for the magic mirror upstairs. I only hoped I wouldn't catch the older couple whose liquor cabinet I'd raided going at it too.

As soon as I stepped into the kitchen, however, everyone in the room went quiet, turning to stare at me. Just as I began to register that I'd somehow found myself at the center of a scandal (again, some things are univerally constant), I found myself confronted by a blur of orange-haired anger.

“You.” Carrot Top snarled. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” My voice may have cracked a little. “Not a damned thing!”

Carrot Top barked a derisive laugh, and jabbed a finger into my chest. “Nothing doesn't make Ditzy Do cry like that. I can barely get a word out of her. So tell me. What. Did. You. Do.”

“I turned her down, that's all!”

“What.”

“I'm telling you, she jumped me. Randy as a rabbit, she was. I tried to--”

“No. No.” Carrot Top said. “You don't get to play innocent, Flash. I've seen this movie before. I knew this would happen-- the popular quarterback dates the weird girl, just as a joke. I don't care if that Twilight girl dumped you-- you don't get to treat Ditzy like that. You don't get to treat anyone like that.”

“Hold on,” I said, “Twilight never dumped me--”

And before I could finish with “--because we were never dating in the first place,” something hit me in the face, hard enough to knock me to the floor. I laid there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, and realized that this Carrot Top might be pretty similar to the real one after all.

Carrot Top loomed over me, and jabbed an accusing finger in my face. “Don't you ever, ever talk to my friend again.”

I rubbed my stinging jaw, and nodded dumbly.

“And stop talking with that stupid accent.” She spat, and then whisked away.

Once I figured it was safe to move, I stood up again, bracing myself on the kitchen table (and knocking over a collection of empty cups and bottles in the process). The other partygoers in the room stared at me, shocked to see such a scandal so close. I merely glared back at them. “What's everybody looking at?” I said, and that was enough to get them to at least pretend to they were enjoying themselves once more.

“What's this?” Someone said from the hallway, and the purple-haired girl I'd nearly walked in on minutes before rushed into the kitchen, followed closely by the one in the farmer's hat. Both of them tried to re-fasten askew buttons as they walked in, and didn't do a very good job of it. The well-coiffed one surveyed the mayhem in the kitchen, and let out a horrified gasp. “Is that ... alcohol? Where did you-- how did you --- who did this?”

At least a half-dozen hands immediately pointed to me.

“Oh! Flash! How could you? My parents trusted us, and now ... now ... I don't see how this could get any worse!”

That's when the sirens began to sound.

Pulsing red and blue lights shone through the front windows, and the party immediately froze. Everyone turned to stare at the front door, frozen in horror. Except for me, that is. I knew a what the arrival of the 'proper authorities' looked like, and I knew exactly what to do. Moving slowly, so as to not draw too much attention to myself, I wound my way through the kitchen, towards the exit. By the time an impatient knocking came from the front door, I had already slipped through the back. Once it became clear nobody was watching me, I legged it properly, bolting across the grassy backyard. I vaulted over the wooden fence in a single bound (monkey physiology being quite handy for climbing, at least), and then dashed madly into the dark woods beyond. I ran in panicked (though practiced) flight, branches whipping at my jacket as I got farther and farther away from the lights of the neighborhood. Too far from the lights, I should note, as my foot caught on a root hidden beneath the fallen leaves, and I soon toppled forward, falling onto my face. The very same face Carrot Top had recently punched, I should note.

I allowed myself the luxury of a whimper-- over the years, I'd developed a finely honed instinct to know whether or not anything was trying to kill me, and right then, I seemed to be in the clear. And so, I just laid there, panting, feeling sorry for myself. I hurt, of course, but at least the wine I'd consumed had dulled the pain a bit. Worse, however, was the knowledge that I was still stuck in this hellish ape-world, and I still had no idea of how I was going to get out.

I couldn't tell you how long I laid there, sniveling and sniffling amongst the dirt and branches-- but my self indulgent reverie was cut short by the sight of a redheaded girl in a black jacket looming over me-- I'd been so distracted by my self pity that I hadn't noticed her creeping up on me. I gave an inarticulate cry of alarm, but the girl just put a booted foot onto my chest and glared down at me.

“Just who the hell are you, and what have you done with the real Flash Sentry?”

Chapter 4

“But I am the real Flash Sentry!” I whined.

“Try another one. The real Flash Sentry wouldn't have ruined Rarity's party.”

“Hah! Shows what you know. Ruining somepony's party is exactly what the real Flash Sentry would do! Because that's what I did. Because I'm the real Flash Sentry.” A pause. “Would you kindly stop standing on me now?”

“Wait. Somepony? What are you-- Oh. Oh no.” the redheaded girl trailed off as the proverbial gears in her head began to turn. Without taking her foot from my chest, she crouched down, putting one hand to a stone hanging from a choker around her neck, and the other to my forehead. The stone glowed with the telltale light of magic, and I braced myself for some new and awful experience.

None came. Instead, the redheaded girl blinked, as if to clear the arcane glimmer from her eyes, and took a step back.

“You're a pony.” She said. “And ... drunk?”

“I can be both.” I said, and took the opportunity to get back to my feet, in case I had to start running. “Though at the moment, I am not nearly enough of either.” I paused, and then regarded the young woman with no small degree of suspicion. “What do you even know about ponies, anyway?”

“I know you came through the mirror, just like I did.”

“You did?” I said. “Then you know what the hell is going on here?”

“I do, yes.”

“If you would enlighten me, then, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“I don't have time for the full explanation, but the long and short of it is, you've been transported to a ... mirror world. Where you're from, everyone's a pony. Here, they're human.” She held her hand up, wiggling her fingers as if to prove her point.

“So do you know how to get back? Wait, no-- of course you don't. If you did, you wouldn't still be here. Horrible place, this.”

“I happen to like it here.” The young pony-turned-lady growled. “But if you want to leave, I'll be more than happy to get rid of you.”

“You would?” I said, latching onto that one strand of hope. Of course, she could have just been an evil witch plotting to just 'get rid' of me, but even stuck in a horrible ape-body, I was confident enough I could outrun her if things came to it.

“Trust me. The sooner you get home, the better off we'll all be.”

“Why didn't you say so?” I tried a charming grin, but it bounced off of her like a snowball on plate mail. I shrugged her scorn off (I've had worse from better ponies, after all), only to realize I lacked one key bit of information. “What's your name, anyway?”

“Sunset Shimmer.*”

*The inclusion of Sunset Shimmer is of particular interest to historians (such as myself), as it would appear to corroborate the arguably apocryphal Sunset Epistles. Over the years,many historians have argued the Sunset Epistles were meant to be seen as metaphor, using the strange and bizarre land to highlight particular key themes, to the point of satire. For instance, the re-casting of Princess Celestia as 'Principal Celestia' is often viewed as a commentary on Princess Celestia's treatment of certain educational policies of the time. I suggest reading Brandy Sweetapple's Friendship By the Letter: An In Depth Analysis of the Sunset Epistles for a better exploration of the subject than I have room for here.

The presence of Sunset Shimmer in a first-hoof account outside of the Sunset Epistles may indicate that Sunset Shimmer was an actual pony, not a pseudonym for one of Princess Twilight's other associates (such as Starlight Glimmer, or even A.K. Yearling, as has been theorized in the past). However, for the sake of objectivity, I feel I must also note that the possibility that, by name-dropping a fictional character, Sentry is deliberately marking this particular episode as fictional. Then again, if this were the case, it could, in turn, imply that the Flash Sentry Papers are entirely fabricated.

When faced with the prospect of seeing his last few years work invalidated, a lesser scholar might omit such a chapter entirely. However, upon further reflection (and even further research), I have concluded that the historical record mostly corroborates Sentry's accounts in the previous volumes of his memoirs, indicating that such a wild swing to outright fiction entirely out of character. Furthermore, it is exceedingly unlikely that Sentry was even aware of the Sunset Epistles to begin with, as their first official publication came several years after Sentry's death.

I bowed, courtly, though the bipedal body made the gesture more than a bit awkward. “In that case, allow me to introduce myself. Lieutenant Flash Sentry, at your service.”

Sunset Shimmer just rolled her eyes, unphased by my gallantry. “C'mon. Let's get moving.”

She led on, giving the house (and the authorities who'd crashed the party) a wide berth, moving with the stealthy ease of someone used to skirting the law. She wasn't quite on the level of, say, Special Agent Golden Harvest, but then again, few ponies were.

The journey seemed shorter than what it was-- my spirits were buoyed by optimism, the anticipation of things returning to their rightful order. Soon enough, I'd be back on four hooves, at which point I could get a proper night's sleep and forget this whole escapade never happened. Before long, Sunset Shimmer brought me back to the school building where the whole mess had started. She led me to a statue mounted in front of the building, and pointed to the polished stone of its plinth.

“Here you go, Flash. Your way home.”

“That's it?” I said. “I thought it'd be more ... magical. You know, with glowing or ominous chanting or thunder or something.”

“It's not like that. It's just ... there. You just walk through the portal, and it spits you back out into Equestria.”

“It's that easy? In that case, Miss Shimmer, I'd say it was a pleasure, but that wouldd be a lie. Ta!” I savored the indignant look on her face, and then bounded forward--

--only to plow my face straight into the polished stone.

Compared to most of the other abuse I've endured over my storied career (or even that particular evening), it was nothing. No blood, no broken bones, and so on. Still, as my face dragged down the side of the plinth, I groaned. “Very funny.” I murmured.

“That's not supposed to happen.” Sunset Shimmer said.

“You think?”

She leaned in, pressing her palms against the pillar. “It should just let you through, unless--” her expression paled. “Oh no.”

“What? What is it? Why can't I go home?” I blubbered, and scratched my horrible primate-hands over the stone once again.

“It's a safety feature Twilight-- Princess Twilight installed. We've been having issues on this side of the portal with stray magic, latching onto people. So Twilight put in some warding spells that activate whenever there's a threat-- something to prevent a magical catastrophe from getting to the other world.”

“So I'm stuck here.” I said, mouth already going dry.

“Until the situation is under control, yes.” Sunset said.

“In that case, just ... what is the typical procedure for this sort of thing?”

“Normally it's something my friends and I can deal with. But somebody thought it would be a good idea to break into Rarity's dad's liquor cabinet, and now they'll be lucky if they're not grounded for the next month.”

“Oh, don't blame me. I just made the party ... well, a party. It's not my fault someone called the constabulary! Or that your friends don't have enough sense to run away from the authorities.”

“They shouldn't have to.” Sunset Shimmer jabbed a finger into my chest. “Look, you want to get home, and the more I talk to you, the more I want you gone. So there's at least one thing we can agree on.”

“That's a start.”

We decamped to a small, hole in the wall diner. It was mostly empty, save for a handful of bespectacled misfits in a booth near the door, and a harried-looking lady in a stained apron behind the counter. Sunset Shimmer and I staked out a table at the far end of the diner, at which point she ordered a steaming pot of coffee (which she grudgingly shared with me). I, meanwhile, perused the menu, puzzled.

“Just what is a 'hamburger,' exactly?”

“You ... don't want to know. Just order the French Fries instead. Trust me.” Sunset Shimmer produced some small, glowing device from her pocket-- some sort of magical talisman, I supposed, by the way she squinted into the little glass and metal rectangle, as if it held the answers to all the world's problems. Which, sadly, it didn't, to judge by the frustrated way Sunset Shimmer tossed it to the table, dejected.

“Great.” She said. “I can't get hold of any of my friends. Which means they're either grounded, or in jail.”

“So we break them out?” I said.

“What? No!”

“All I'm saying is that if the fate of the world is at stake here, one's justified in taking a few ... liberties with the law. Trust me, you're not the only one who's saved the world. Or, well, a world, if this magic mirror business is true.”

“You. Saved Equestria.”

“Several times.” I sipped at my coffee. “They don't just give out the Celestial Cross, you know.” In retrospect, bragging about my medals has rarely ended well, but the fact that Sunset Shimmer was the only creature in this bizarre world who would know what the Celestial Cross was forced me to mention it.

Sunset Shimmer blinked at that, gratifyingly shocked. “You're serious.”

“Deadly so.”

“Let's hope it doesn't get that bad.” Sunset Shimmer said. “I mean, just in the last few months, we've dealt with power-crazed dryads, ego-fueled hand mirrors, an amnesia epidemic, and-- a troll?”

“Well, that sounds a bit out of place.”

Sunset Shimmer looked over my shoulder, staring at the diner door with an expression of growing panic. “No, it's a troll!”

As if on cue, I heard glass shatter somewhere behind me. I spun around in the booth, laying eyes upon-- well, a troll. Uglier than the dimension's normal inhabitants (which is saying something), the troll looked like nothing so much as white and blue gorilla, fashioned from chunks of dirty ice. As soon as it smashed through the door, it turned to bellow at the academic-looking sorts on the other side of the diner, sending them scrambling over their seats in a blind panic.

I'm no cryptozoologist, but I knew a monster when I saw one-- not to mention what to do whenever one started stomping about.

I ran.

At least, I tried to. Sunset Shimmer had the sense to jump out of her seat, but kept on gawking at the damned troll like she'd never seen one before. As such, I plowed right into her, and the two of us toppled to the ground.

At the sudden movement, the troll turned its beady eyes towards Sunset Shimmer and I. In a single leap, it bounded across the diner. Two massive icy fists swung down at us, but I rolled out of the way just in time to avoid getting my skull pulped. Still, tangled as I was with Sunset Shimmer, I wound up dragging her along with me, with the coincidental effect of saving her life. Funny how that works.

“Run, you idiot!” I shrieked, heart hammering away in my chest. I hauled myself to my feet-- only to backpedal away from the troll's snapping teeth.

“Run where? It's blocking the door!” Sunset Shimmer said

I toppled back into the booth, staring up at the ice monster in sheer terror. I pushed myself along the seat, cringing away-- only to feel my shoulders butt up against the unyeilding window. If I'd thought ahead, I could have tried smashing the window-- but it was too late, as I was too close to get the proper momentum needed to defenestrate myself. I let out a panicked sob as I stared death in its ugly face-- coward that I was, I could do little but flail helplessly, throwing one last tantrum before the thing tore me to bits. Blindly, I swept my arm over the tabletop, flinging anything I could at the monster--

--which is when the coffeepot shattered on the troll's craggy face.

The beast's screaming went up an octave, and the icy beast lurched backwards, clawing at its face in pain. Steam rose from where the coffee hit, melting away at the troll's icy form. Blind, the ice troll flailed around like the desperate, wounded beast it was. It careened over the countertop, passing by the diner's terrified proprietress--

--and onto the sizzling grill.

It wasn't long before the ice troll melted away completely, leaving nothing but a foul smell, a greasy puddle, and a long list of health code violations.

“What the hell was that?” I blurted, still jittery from yet another too-close brush with death.

“Do you think that's what came through the portal?” Sunset Shimmer said.

“Impossible. Just about every carnivore in Equestria has tried to kill me at some point or another, and I've never seen anything like that.” Slowly, I pried myself out of the booth-- and shot a wary glance around, in case the monster had any friends still lurking about. Thankfully, no more ice-monsters came a-charging out, so at least that was a plus.

“Ice trolls take triple damage from heat-based attacks.” Someone said in a small voice.

“What?” Sunset Shimmer and I said in unison.

One of the bookworms sitting near the door peeked over the top of his booth, then took a moment to adjust his cracked glasses. “Ice trolls take triple damage from heat-based attacks.” He said again, only slightly louder this time.

“So you're behind this?” I said. Before I knew it, I had crossed the diner to grab the twerpy primate by his plaid shirt, all the better to give him a good shake. Sadly, there weren't any lockers handy to stuff him in. “You could've killed me, you twit!”

“It wasn't him!” My captive's chubby companion wailed. “It's from the book!”

“What. Book.” I said, not releasing the first nerd.

“Here!” The other one dug frantically through his backpack, then pulled out a battered hardback book, featuring a scantily-clad female human waving a sword at a fire-breathing dragon. “It's all in the Abomination Almanac!”

“You're kidding.” Sunset Shimmer said.

“It's all here!” The chubby one opened the book and started paging through, frantically. Soon enough, he turned to an 'I' section, where a picture of the very beast that had nearly killed me (albeit in a non-melted form) stared up from beside a column of arcane numbers and acronyms.

“What the hell is this?” I dropped the one nerd, in favor of scooping up the book. “Some kind of ... monster summoning manual?”

“It's a game.” Sunset Shimmer said.

“What?” I blurted.

“It's from Ogres and Oubliettes. A game.” Sunset Shimmer said.

“So they're sending monsters after us for laughs?” I tightened my fingers around the book, and wondered how much it'd hurt someone if I hit them with it.

“No!” The first bookworm said. “It's imaginary!”

“Imaginary.” I said.

“It's supposed to be imaginary!” The bookworm wailed.

“But now it's coming to life.” Sunset Shimmer said. “Great. Now we've just got to figure out who's got a magical Ogres and Oubliettes manual and a grudge.”

And that's when the blood drained out of my face. “I think I know who you're talking about.”

Chapter 5

“So, tell me again, Flash. Just why is Carrot Top mad at you?” Sunset Shimmer asked as we skulked through the dark alleyways of the human town.

“I'm not completely certain, but I think it has something to do with the fact that I didn't want to snog her best friend.”

“What.”

“I know, right? Usually it's the other way around. You dally with one filly, and then her friend gets jealous. But the moment you suggest there's enough of Ol' Flashy to go around--”

“You can stop right there. In fact, please stop right there.”

“It's something of a moot point here, considering everyone is a hideous primate.”

“I can't believe I ever dated the other-you.”

“Neither can I. I mean, he doesn't have the Celestial Cross.”

“He's in high school.”

“He is?” I paused. “But ... I'm not. Wait, he didn't get held back in school, did he? Mr. Wallinghoof always threatened to make me repeat sophomore year because I kept making eyes at this one cute pegasus in the third row--”

“No, everypony-- or, uh, everybody is a younger version of themselves here. Twilight thinks it has something to do with a time-space distortion resulting in the conversion of matter to magical energy when passing through the portal. Kind of a parallel dimensional relativism.”

“I have no idea what any of that means.”

“Good. Now stay still so that thing can't thing see us.” Sunset Shimmer flattened her back against the alley wall, and I did the same. On the street outside, a spherical creature consisting entirely of eyeball floated by. Sunset Shimmer looked down at the hardback book we'd 'borrowed' from the misfits at the diner, and thumbed through the pages 'til she came to a matching picture. “It says here that the Floating Eye of Death is deaf. So long as we stay out of its line of sight, we'll be fine. Of course, if it does see us, it'll roast us with death rays, so ... try not to be seen.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” My voice cracked.

Still, after a few minutes, the absurd monster floated around a corner, and the two of us started moving again. Sunset Shimmer kept on dragging me along to where the monsters were thickest, searching for their source. I would've left her to her own devices, but I knew that this mad scheme was the only way I'd get to stand on four hooves again. The existential horror of being stuck in such a world overrode the more immediate terror of the monstrous menagerie prowling the streets.

We dodged dragons, evaded elementals, hid from hobgoblins, and otherwise sneaked our way across town. Between Sunset Shimmer's reference skills and my own natural cowardice, it was easy going, even if various monster patrols forced us to take a circuitous route.

Still, the town wasn't too large-- at least not compared to an actual city along the lines of Manehattan or Canterlot. I could only suppose the primitive ape-beasts weren't capable of bigger settlements. It didn't take long to reach the apparent source of the marauding monsters: a small park in the center of the town square. With its tall, shady trees and spaced-out benches, the little park was an ideal place for a cozy picnic-- at least it would've been if it weren't for the cackling sorceress in the middle of it all.

Now, I'm no expert on magic, but I've seen more than my fair share of doomsday rituals, sometimes even from the “chained to the altar” perspective. In comparison, this one was fairly low-key. Artisinal apocalypse, you could call it. Carrot Top (or, well the bipedal ape version of her) stood in the center of the park, decked out in a hooded violet robe. She held a large book in her hands-- a copy of the Abomination Almanac, identical to Sunset Shimmer's-- except for the arcane glowing.

“What next?” Carrot Top said, voice slightly ragged from the mad rush of power. She pored over her book, paging through it-- until she gave a triumphant cry. “Aha! That's it! A Tendril-terror!” At that, Carrot Top waved one of her hands, and a figure materialized out of sickly-green energy, congealing into a weird, shambling creature made up entirely of half-rotted vegetation. Carrot Top marveled at her newest creation, and then launched into a fresh bout of cackling.

“There she is.” Sunset Shimmer said, narrowing her eyes.

“Just, uh ... just what are you going to do to her?”

“I haven't figured that out yet.”

“What?” I blurted. “You said you've done this sort of thing before!”

“I have. With my friends. Who aren't here, because of you.”

“Well, just do whatever your friends do, just ... more of it?”

“You think I can just talk Carrot Top down and then cure her madness through the power of friendship by myself?”

“It would be nice, yes.”

Sunset Shimmer glowered at me. “You're the Hero of Equestria, what would you do?”

“Er.” I said, and scratched at the back of my neck. “I usually ... improvise.”

“Improvise?” Sunset Shimmer, said, skeptic.

“We could light something on fire. That usually works.”

“Random arson is not a good plan.”

“It's better than anything you've come up with!”

I was right, of course, but I was so right I inadvertently raised my voice, which in turn echoed off the brick walls of the alleyway Sunset Shimmer and I crouched in, which in turn was enough to draw Carrot Top's attention.

She whirled around, fast enough for her hood to drop, revealing her orange hair looking frizzier than normal. “Seize them!” she shouted-- and with that, the green monster standing next to her lashed out with both arms, whiplike vines streaking through the air. Distracted as we were, neither Sunset Shimmer nor I could get out of the way-- before I knew it, the creature yanked my feet out from under me and I hit the ground, nigh enveloped in thick, braided vine. I kicked and squealed, attempting to get away, but there was no escape. Similarly wrapped, Sunset Shimmer landed beside me, and soon the plant monster was reeling us in like a fisherpony's prize catch. As if to make the metaphor more apt, Carrot Top's leafed lackey soon hoisted Sunset Shimmer and I up, dangling us upside-down.

“Ha ha! Ranged entangle attacks! Totally overpowered. A perfect tool for an Oh-Oh!” Carrot Top said with villainous glee.

“An ... Ooo?” I said. The confusion was better than outright terror, but only slightly.

“The Oh-Oh! The Oubliette Overseer!” Carrot Top said, with all the frustration of someone explaining something for the thousandth time. “I guess I shouldn't expect you to know what that means. You're popular.” She made the word an epithet.

“Please, Carrot-- you're not like this.” Sunset Shimmer pleaded. Genuinely, even.

“I'm not?” Carrot Top whirled on Sunset Shimmer. “How would you know? You're not my friend. You never were! You're just trying to get on my good side, now that I have a magic artifact of unimaginable power.”

Carrot Top clutched her Abomination Almanac tighter to her chest, and smiled. “But you know what the best part is? I'm going to be a better at being evil than you ever were.” She reached out and flicked the end of Sunset Shimmer's nose, taunting her.

“Hold on, you're evil?” I said, turning to stare at Sunset Shimmer. “I suppose that explains a lot.”

“I'm not evil!” Sunset Shimmer glared at me. “Not anymore!”

“Oh, Flash. Poor, poor Flash.” Carrot Top shook her head, ruefully. “You didn't know? How come the pretty ones are always so stupid?”

“Hang on--” I said, “you think I'm pretty?”

“That's what you're fixating on?” Sunset Shimmer hissed.

“Don't think you can charm your way out of this.” Carrot Top stroked the spine of her book. “That might work on Ditzy, but I know better. I know who you really are. Just because you're good looking and you're good at sports, you think you've got everything all figured out, and—”

I started laughing.

“Flash?” Sunset Shimmer said.

“What's so funny?” Carrot Top said, voice shrill.

“Sorry! Sorry! I, uh ... I think I'm feeling a little woozy, with all the blood draining to my head, but ... did you just say I have everything figured out?”

“You don't?” Carrot Top blinked.

I laughed again. “Miss Top, if anything, I have found that only a select few individuals have any idea what they're doing at any given time. I mean, I certainly don't. I've spent most of the night-- most of my life, really, with only the slightest idea of what's going on, and I don't see that changing anytime soon.”

“What's your point?”

“My point is you're a teenager. A weird, awkward, lonely teenager.”

“And?” Carrot Top said sharply. She clenched her fingers, and the vines holding me in place constricted tight enough to make me squeal.

“And that's okay!” I blurted, voice going a little higher than usual. “Because all teenagers are weird and awkward and lonely. That's ... what being a teenager is for. But the thing is, nobody cares. You being the Oubilette Organizer--”

“Overseer.” Carrot Top said.

“--whatever.” I said. “It doesn't matter. And you know what? That stupid game I won earlier tonight? That doesn't matter either! Nothing does!”

“I never took you for a nihilist, Flash Sentry.” Carrot Top said.

“I'm not! Nihilistic, that is. I just have, er ... perspective.”

“How do you have perspective? You're just a dumb jock!”

“Actually, I'm a decorated war hero from a parallel dimension who has been inexplicably transported to this world through a magical mirror that's currently sealed off on account of your current turn of villainy.”

“What.” Carrot Top said.

“And, it's worth noting that you, Carrot Top-- or, uh, the Carrot Top from where I'm from is honestly the most fascinating young lady I've ever met. Who's also threatened to kill me, now that I think of it. Still, if you are anything like her, you've got better things to do with your life than being a pantomime villain.”

“Do you really expect me to believe that?” Carrot Top said.

“This is Canterlot High.” Sunset Shimmer added on. “And you're kiiiiind of using a magical game manual to summon monsters to do your bidding. Which honestly is pretty straightforward compared to some of the other stuff that we've had to deal with. You remember what happened at the friendship games, right?”

“When you put it that way, it almost makes sense.” Carrot Top said, if begrudgingly.

“Ladies?” I interjected. “Perhaps this is a discussion we could have, er, right side up?”

Carrot Top closed her book.

With that, the plant monster shriveled up in a matter of seconds, dissolving into dry leaves and crackling magic. Unfortunately, the plant monster was still dangling me and Sunset Shimmer above the ground like prize trophies, so its sudden disappearance neatly dumped the both of us on our heads. A fresh jolt of pain set me to swearing with a soldier's eloquence. Not that Carrot Top noticed, as she sat down heavily upon a nearby bench, book in her lap.

“I'm ... I'm in a lot of trouble, aren't I?” Carrot Top said.

“Not ... necessarily.” I said as I clambered up to my feet. “I mean. I understand that this whole 'magical catastrophe' thing is somewhat of a rare occurrence here?”

“Not as rare as it used to be.” Sunset Shimmer said.

“Right, but it's still not exactly an everyday thing, is it? Which means that the proper authorities haven't drafted any anti-monster laws or anything, I presume?”

“Well, no--”

“So if there's no laws, then the lovely Miss Top hasn't done anything illegal. Isn't that nice?” I smiled, smug in my armchair lawyering.

“That doesn't mean it wasn't wrong.” Carrot Top said, holding her face in her hands.

“We all make mistakes.” Sunset Shimmer said, understanding.

“I mean, so long as nobody gets murdered or pregnant, who cares, right?” I chimed in, helpful. “I mean, I didn't see any corpses on the way here. Which only leaves the latter option, which seems ... unlikely. Unless you started summoning depraved lust-demons or something with that book of yours. You ... didn't summon up depraved lust-demons, did you?”

“Those are in a different expansion.” Carrot Top said, looking up at me with a rueful grin.

“Right. I'm not going to think too hard about how you knew that off the top of your head.” I noted.

“That's enough helping, Flash.”

“So now what?” Carrot Top said.

“Same as anything.” Sunset Shimmer said. “We just ... go on with our lives. But the important part is that we learn from it. You may have gotten a little carried away, sure, but that doesn't mean we can't be friends.”

“But you're ... popular.” Carrot Top said. “Why would you be friends with a nerd like me?”

“Because I know exactly what you're going through. Besides, I've got plenty of nerdy friends. Have you met Twilight? Either of them? Heck, if you want, I'm sure she'd love to play Ogres and Oubliettes with you sometime. Just, ah ... with fewer monsters.”

“I'll see what I can do.” Carrot Top ran a hand through her frizzed hair. “Look, I-- ... I'm sorry I tried to kill you guys with magic. It won't happen again.”

“Don't worry, I'm used to it by now.” Sunset Shimmer's smile held the grim humor of the veteran.

“I'm not.” I noted, mostly as a matter of principle.

“In that case, we'd better get you back home before you do.”

And that was that.

Mostly.

Sunset Shimmer guided me back to the strange statue and plinth from before-- though this time, I tested the portal's permeability through a very scientific process (which is to say, I poked it with a stick). Still, there was a telltale shimmer of magic, indicating the portal was still open.

“This'll be goodbye, then.” I said, tossing the stick aside. “Not that you two haven't been pleasant company--” I lied “--but I've been trying to get home ever since I got here.”

“I understand, Flash.” Sunset Shimmer said.

“Well, off with me, then--” I took two steps towards the portal, then paused, looking over at Carrot Top (who'd tagged along with the two of us for lack of anywhere else to go). “Actually ... before I go, I should tell you something.”

“What's that?” Carrot Top said, innocent and bewildered.

“The next time you start feeling sorry for yourself, remember-- you are a remarkable young lady who is capable of literally anything.”

“Really?” Carrot Top blinked. “You mean that?”

“Absolutely. So if anyone tries to tell you otherwise, punch them in the throat.”

“Flash.” Sunset Shimmer sternly scolded.

“What? It's what my-- it's what the other Carrot Top would want me to tell her!”

“I think that's enough helping.” Sunset Shimmer glared at me.

“Thank you, Flash.” Carrot Top smiled a crooked smile and foisted her copy of the Abomination Almanac onto me. “Take this. Something tells me it'll be safer on the other side of this portal.”

“I, er, suppose so?” I looked down at the book, which thankfully wasn't glowing, but I wasn't sure how long that would last. “Speaking of the other side of the portal-- I'd better be getting there.”

“I couldn't agree more.” Sunset Shimmer said.

And then she shoved me through the portal.

Despite the knowledge I was finally heading home, the return trip was just as unpleasant. Which, again, was somewhat inevitable given the fact there's no way to have the very atoms of one's body torn apart and re-arranged be a pleasant process.

I burst through the mirror in a blaze of magical light, careening across Princess Twilight's library to crash into shelf full of reference material. Volumes S through V of the Encyclopedia Equestria rained down on me in one of the more embarrassing beatings I've taken over the years (which is saying something). Lucky for me, there wasn't anypony around to see it. And yet, through all the pain and nausea, I laughed.

Because I was a pony again.

I made a quick inventory: four hooves, two wings, one tail-- all signs that I was back in Equestria. Soon thereafter I confirmed this, I soon heard another reminder that I was back in Equestria: something impossibly large and inexplicably angry roared outside the castle, hard enough to shake bits of plaster loose from the ceiling. An immense shadow passed by on the other side of the library's stained glass windows, and my legs immediately took to shaking. I glanced at the mirror, then thought the better of it, instead bolting for the door out into the hallway--

Where I ran into Princess Twilight.

“Flash!” she blurted, just as surprised as I was. “What are you-- wait! Is that what I think it is?”

“Is what what you think it is?”

“The Abomination Almanac!” Princess Twilight used her magic to float the book out from where I'd had it tucked under my left wing. Somehow, it'd been transformed just as I had-- swapping its gaudy painted cover out for an older, plainer, and therefore more ominous binding of black cloth. “You found it!”

“I did?”

“You've saved us all!”

“I have?”

“Where did you-- you know what, nevermind! I've got a Tarresque to tame, and this book's going to show me exactly how to do it!”

“Good luck?” I said, mostly by reflex. At least she wasn't whisking me along with her to leap into the literal jaws of certain death. Yet.

“I don't need luck, I've got reference material!”

And with that, Princess Twilight set off one of her teleportation spells, disappearing in a flash of blinding light. Thankfully, she left me behind-- though not alone. By the time my vision cleared, I found myself staring at a familiar pouf of orange hair (albeit in its proper place on an unassuming young earth pony).

“Sentry.” She said, stalking towards me. “Where have you been? I've been looking for you for hours. When the monster attacked, I didn't know if you were just hiding in the wine cellar, or if you--” She trailed off, professional irritation slipping away to reveal something else entirely.

“Oh.” I said. “Oh.” I smiled, and trotted over to drape a wing across Carrot Top's shoulders. “You should know me better than that. I'm much too good at staying alive.” I paused, and then glanced out the window again, where the shadowy behemoth seemed to be lumbering away from a princess-shaped silhouette. “Also, for the record, this isn't my fault.”

“What isn't?”

“The ... whatever that is.” As if on cue, the monster outside roared, though slightly quieter this time.

“Oh, that? It's just something out of the Everfree forest. Happens every third week or so.”

“Should we ... do something about it?”

“Nah, the Princess has things under control. She usually does.”

“Usually?”

“Let's just say I'm not going to be out of a job anytime soon,” said Special Agent Golden Harvest.

“Which means I won't be either.” I groaned.

“I'm just glad you didn't get yourself killed, you idiot.” Carrot Top slipped out from beneath my wing and headed for the door. “Now c'mon, let's go get a drink, and you can tell me exactly what just happened.”

“It ... may take awhile.”

“That's alright, I think Pinkie Pie's still making cocktails even though there's a monster outside.”

“Y'know what?” I said, “maybe we should just get coffee instead.”

-So ends the seventh volume of the Flash Sentry Papers.

Some Notes on the Text

Ever since I published the first volume of The Flash Sentry Papers, a great deal of debate has risen in certain academic sectors (and a certain subset of more casual readers) about the veracity of Flash Sentry's memoirs. Indeed, Sentry's memoirs can best be described as “reliably unreliable.”

And yet, the historical record mostly corroborates Sentry's accounts. I have spent long hours, poring over passenger registers, train schedules, army records, newspapers and any other first-hoof sources I could find matching the events described in Flash Sentry's memoirs. Given the confidential nature of many of Sentry's assignments, this has been quite a daunting task. On occasions when her busy schedule permits it, Princess Twilight has graciously assisted me in these endeavors, though more often than not her answers only raise more questions. Despite these difficulties, I am willing to vouch for the authenticity of each and every volume of The Flash Sentry Papers.

Except for this one.

I don't mean to say that this is a fictional text-- but at the same time, this particular adventure of Sentry's is simply impossible to verify (for reasons you, dear reader, will likely figure out before long). This said, I have absolutely no reason to believe Sentry fabricated the following account, as he simply has no motivation to do so. Indeed, this is definitely a case where the truth is far, far stranger than a potential fiction.

With this disclaimer made, I humbly request that you, dear reader, keep an open mind when reading this account. Or, well, more open than usual, I suppose. Still, as always, I will provide running commentary in order to provide greater clarity when needed, though I will be the first to admit that I am only a historian, and not a magical theorist. The final verdict, as always, will remain with you, dear reader.

-G.M.F.