The Future of Harmony

by Parker

Rating: everyone
Tags: Young Six, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Adventure
Length: 12183

The Young Six have more than just graduation to worry about. Earthquakes, strange sounds, and mysterious lights lead them on a magical journey towards their destiny.

Something odd is going on in the Treehouse of Harmony: earthquakes have rocked Ponyville, while strange sounds and mysterious lights have been appearing with no apparent cause. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it's just a stress-induced hallucination shared between the most famous members of the first graduating class of the School of Friendship.

No creature believes that, of course.

Whether it's an unknown threat or strange natural disaster, the Young Six have learned how to work together and leverage the power of their Friendship. They will have to see if that is enough to face this new challenge.

Published 2020-02-22 21:10:02 UTC
Last updated 2020-02-22 21:10:02 UTC

2 - Harmony Revealed

Yona plopped down onto her haunches, her breath coming in ragged gulping starts. “Yak…” she panted, “NOT best at sprinting.”

She, Silverstream, and Gallus had apparently arrived too late, despite running and flying at full speed towards the forest. The yak reclined onto her side, letting the relative coolness of the ground seep into her overheated hide. She had adjusted, more or less, to the warmer climate of Ponyville, but she felt a pang of homesickness for the icy grounds of her home.

“Aww, you did great, Yona!” Silverstream said, a large smile plastered on her face. The hippogriff’s constant excitement, which had once grated on the yak’s more somber nature, actually served to encourage, now. Yona closed her eyes.

“You said you couldn’t see the light from Ocellus’ room?” she heard Gallus ask.

“No!” Sandbar replied. “There was nothing there at all.”

“So it’s got to be some kind of magical test,” the griffon concluded.

Smolder snorted. “I already yelled at the Tree about it, and she didn’t answer.”

“I don’t think the Tree of Harmony has a gender,” Ocellus argued.

Yona groaned. “Yona no care if cow Tree or bull Tree.” She sighed. “Yona just want to know what to do about scary light.” The yak let her head fall to the ground with a resounding thud, and she suddenly felt the floor beneath her shake.

“Earthquake!” Sandbar shouted.

Despite her tired, achy muscles, Yona leapt to her hooves and darted for a nearby doorway. Her friends crowded in beside and beneath her. The treehouse shivered and rattled as the six friends held each other close. After a few moments, the shaking stopped.

Smolder grunted. “Those are way more common here than they should be. There’re no fault lines around here.”

Ocellus stepped gingerly out of the crowd. “I didn’t know you had an interest in geology!”

The dragon laughed. “Active fault areas tend to produce the best gems. It’s why dragons never showed any interest in conquering the pony heartlands.” She winked at Sandbar, as their pony representative.

“Conquering decisions aside,” Gallus said as he pulled himself out from under the yak’s bulk, “I’m with Smolder. Does anyone else think it’s weird we’ve had so many earthquakes lately?”

Yona nodded her head and saw others do the same. She walked back into the room on still-tired legs.

The yak heard a loud cracking sound, and nearly darted back to the doorway before realizing that the sound had come from downstairs.

“It’s happening again!” Silverstream shrieked. Yona was uncertain if it was fear or excitement in her voice. Perhaps her hippogriff friend was like the great yak shieldmaidens, who turned fear into fierce war cries.

“What do we do?” Sandbar asked. Her pony friend was definitely scared.

Yona laid a broad hoof across his narrow back to calm him. “Face it with friends.” She shifted her hoof forward, in front of his face, until the earth pony nodded and placed his hoof on hers. She fought back an un-yak-like blush at the contact.

Gallus nodded at her from Sandbar’s other side. The griffon put his claw over Sandbar’s raised hoof. Ocellus added her hoof to the mix, and an orange claw joined the pile a moment later. A bellowing whoop filled the air as Silverstream leapt into the air, slapping both claws on top of the joined appendages, before she bounded off to land on the floor. “Which one do we go to?” she asked eagerly.

The other friends exchanged wary looks.

Yona tossed her head, her braids nearly knocking into Ocellus. “Yona go to Yona’s light!”

Ocellus, having successfully dodged Yona’s aggressive hair, nodded. “And I want to go back to mine.”

“We split up,” Smolder said. “You boys go with Yona. Silver, you come with me and Cell.”

Yona grabbed Gallus and Sandbar and pulled them into a tight hug. “Come friends!”

“I don’t even know what we’re supposed to do about the heat,” Gallus whined. “If you guys dealt with the same thing as me…” he shrugged.

“Yona not guy,” the yak chimed in.

Gallus rolled his eyes. “You’re also not really suited to high temperatures,” he added.

That put a hitch in the yak’s step. “It… not matter. Yak face any danger to solve mystery and help friends!”

Gallus flew above his earth-bound friends as they wandered down the winding staircase to the Treehouse’s cellar. As they neared the bottom landing, Yona flinched and raised a cloven hoof to shield her eyes. “Still so bright!” she whimpered. Well, whimpered for a yak, which was more akin to shouting for her friends.

Sandbar looked around and shrugged up at Gallus.

“Uh, okay,” Gallus said, landing next to Yona. “Which way is it?”

The yak gestured toward a large, gnarled root that pushed into the rock. To Gallus, it looked absolutely normal, but Yona shivered and trembled in the face of some unseen force. He landed in front of the yak, but it seemed to make no difference.

Sandbar lay a hoof on the yak’s side. Gallus frowned. “Same feeling as before?” the pony asked.

Yona nodded. “Heat like sun!” Gallus remembered that feeling when he had been near the library. Like being lit on fire. “Sound like shattering mountains! Light like…” the yak paused. “It… suddenly less hot.”

Sandbar looked ahead in confusion. Gallus looked around. Nothing had changed. Nothing was different now from a moment ago, or probably from when Yona had first seen the light down here, except…

He slapped a wing against his head. “Of course!” he crowed. “Sandy! Go to your light!”

“What?” the stallion protested. “We can’t just leave Yona!”

“We’re not leaving her, we’re helping her!” the griffon insisted. “What’s different now?” he asked. When neither creature answered, he grunted in annoyance. “Ocellus is at her light, too! And if that made all…” he waved a claw in the vague direction of Yona’s disturbance, “that less dangerous…”

Yona nodded in understanding. “All friends approach at once!”

“Together,” Sandbar said, a small bit of awe creeping into this tone. “Even when apart.”

Gallus grinned. “I’ll fly you up top, pony boy! We’ve got no time to lose!”

Sandbar stood at the door to the grand hall. The crackling, tearing sounds were just as terrible as he remembered them, but the light was merely blinding instead of soul-crushing. And the heat was a fireplace instead of a roaring furnace. Still hot enough to melt his mane off, he figured. He stood well back of the room within.

He hoped Gallus was right. His griffon friend had seemed very confident. But then, he usually did. Sandbar shifted on his hooves nervously.

The temperature around him fell drastically. Sandbar shivered, feeling ridiculous. He was still sweating through his coat. But it was noticeably cooler. He tried looking into the great hall again. Through squinted eyes he could just barely make out the rainbow patterns in the hall tile. He stepped forward cautiously.

When he didn’t burst into flames, he stepped forward again. Again.

His heart was racing, the pulsing rhythm so strong that he could feel every beat in his throat. He hated feeling so afraid. He wished he were brave like Professor Dash. Instead, he found himself wishing he could hold Gallus’ claw as he stepped forward towards the cacophonous light. Or that he had a big, strong yak to hide behind. He took another step. Or even a sharp-clawed dragon or hippogriff to walk beside. Heck, even a little changeling support would be welcome.

The heat in the room dropped, and Sandbar gasped. The noise faltered, and for a second he thought maybe the phenomenon had ended again, but the great hall was still unnaturally bright. And the sound… the sound that he thought was gone…

The room was singing. The very Treehouse itself, from every wall and floor and ceiling, from a million different points in every direction, was singing. Quietly, intensely, wordlessly singing a thousand-part melody.

Sandbar paused, transfixed by the music. Until he saw something glittering in the heart of the hall. On the polished floor, in the middle of the vast space, something glittered, pulsing a beautiful yellow light in time with the music.

Sandbar galloped into the room, fearful of the return of the light and heat and noise. He looked down at a crystalline structure, no larger than his nose. He reached down to scoop it up in one hoof. The ethereal music halted instantly.

~unity~

Sandbar gasped and stilled his hoof at the whispered word. He glanced around nervously, half expecting the ceiling to collapse or the walls to explode. Thanking his luck that nothing happened, he scooped up his prize and bolted from the room.

“Okay,” Smolder said, holding a crystalline flower up in a careless grip, watching the light refract through it, “Conviction I get, for Yona. And Enthusiasm,” she said, nodding at the hippogriff. “And definitely grace,” she said, grinning at Ocellus, who blushed a delightful shade of purple. “But wisdom?”

“Hey, screw you!” Gallus said, scowling darkly. “I’m smart!”

“Maybe Tree switched creatures on accident?” Yona suggested wryly.

Sandbar laid a hoof on Gallus’ shoulder. “Wisdom is about more than book smarts,” he said kindly. His smile faded at the griffon’s withering look. “N-not that I don’t think you’re smart, too!” he stuttered.

“And there’s ‘Unity,’” Smolder said.

“What was yours, then, Ms. bossy drake?” Gallus asked sullenly.

Smolder fought to keep her sudden, immense discomfort from showing. She mumbled her answer as she rubbed an arm across her muzzle.

“What now?” Sandbar asked innocently.

“Lrrshp” the dragon muttered.

“Still not hearing you!” Silverstream said loudly.

The dragon glared at all of them in turn. “Leadership,” she said through gritted, sharp teeth.

To most of her friends’ immense credit, they showed no surprise, with Ocellus and Yona nodding thoughtfully. Gallus, though, burst out laughing. To the griffon’s credit, he managed to corral his guffaws after a moment, even if aftershocks of snickering laughter rumbled out occasionally.

Smolder watched Sandbar’s head tilt slowly to the side. “You wanna say something too, turtle butt?”

The green pony blushed fiercely. “N-no! But, uhh, what color was your artifact?” he asked. “W-when you heard the word?”

Smolder frowned. She stared at the thing in her claw. She closed her eyes, remembering. It had had a peculiar glow. Like a delicious sapphire. “Blue,” she answered.

“Ooh! I like this game! And my color!” Silverstream gushed. “Pink!”

Gallus frowned. “Purple.”

Yona held her flower aloft, as if it would regain its color. “Orange,” she said, when the artifact refused to comply.

Smolder turned to her quietest friend. Ocellus looked on the verge of tears. “Cell?” she asked gently. She’d deny to any dragon that she could even do such a thing gently, but Ocellus deserved special treatment.

The changeling shook her head sadly. “Nothing,” she said, her voice just barely a whisper. “No color at all.”

Sandbar took a step towards her. “Are you sure?” he asked.

A gruff voice spoke up from the back of their friends. “No color at all?” Gallus asked.

Ocellus shook her head sadly. Smolder clenched her talons tightly into her palm, angry at the world and the Tree.

“Maybe,” the griffon continued smoothly, “it wasn’t no color. Maybe it was all of them.”

Ocellus gasped loudly, her eyes suddenly wide in understanding. “White?”

Sandbar nodded, a sudden grin splitting his round pony features. “And mine was yellow. The colors of the Elements of Harmony!” He pranced from hoof to hoof. “Guys, we’re onto something very big here!”

Gallus snorted. “The magical light and disembodied voice didn’t give that away already?”

Sandbar stuck his tongue out at the griffon. Gallus smiled back at him and made a rude gesture with his wing.

Smolder tossed the crystal flower from claw to claw. “That’s great and all, but what do we do about these?” she asked.

“Yeah, Sandbar,” Silverstream chimed in. “What do we do now?”

The earth pony frowned. “For the last time, I don’t know everything about pony magic!”

Smolder heard Ocellus approaching her. “Maybe,” the changeling said, “since we found them together…” she held up her flower until it touched the one in Smolder’s claw. White and blue light shone from within the flowers as their clear, crystal petals stretched and shifted, moving to intertwine.

Smolder set the conjoined flowers down on a nearby table, and her other friends approached, all at once, offering their own flowers.

The room filled with a beautiful rainbow light as each stretched and twisted and melded, until the six distinct flowers had become one large structure with a hundred radiant petals, all pulsing with a rainbow light. As the friends watched, transfixed, the circular centers of each original flower shifted and twisted, revealing six strangely-shaped holes.

“Ohhhhhhmygosh,” Sandbar said in awe. “Guys! Guys!!” the green pony said, prancing from side to side. “I know what this is!”

“What was that you keep saying about not knowing everything about pony magic?” Smolder asked snidely.

Sandbar rolled his eyes.

“So it a locked chest,” the yak said, after Sandbar had explained his theory.

“Uh huh,” Sandbar confirmed.

“And we need keys?” Ocellus reasoned.

“Yup!” the green pony shook his head affably.

“And you know where to find the keys!” an excited Silverstream gushed, flapping her wings and taking to the air. She hovered over the lock, watching as Gallus traced one of the six keyholes with a claw.

“Uhhh, no,” Sandbar admitted.

The hippogriff deflated, her wings falling flat against her sides as she drifted to the ground.

“Do you even know what it would unlock?” Gallus asked, walking slowly around the floral chest.

“I’m still saying, I could just chew around the edges, see if that pops it open,” Smolder offered.

“For the last time, Smolder, we’re not eating the Harmony chest!" Sandbar said in exasperation.

Gallus tapped a spot just below one lock. “What’s this?” he asked. He leaned in closely.

“What’s what?” Smolder said, pushing in beside him. Gallus moved his talon out of the way to reveal a small circle with some kind of misshapen blob inside. “Well, that’s weird. Whose was this?”

Sandbar raised a hoof tentatively. Smolder waved him over and slid over to the part of the lockbox that had been in her claws a few minutes past. Inside a six-pointed star was… “A shell?” She shrugged. “That’s weird.”

The other friends gathered around, peering closely.

“Wait!” Ocellus cried, an ecstatic trill to her voice. “I know what that is!”

“Helm of Yksler!” Yona breathed in awe.

“That’s the Amulet of Aurora!” Silverstream screamed.

Sandbar laughed. “Thank goodness you guys have more unique shapes. Otherwise I would have never guessed mine was supposed to be Clover the Clever’s Cloak.”

“But why is the Tree showing us these artifacts?” Ocellus asked.

Smolder opened her mouth to take a guess but slipped and had to grab hold of the lockbox to stay upright. The ground shifted beneath her feet. Yona went down hard, one horn scraping a hole in the floor.

“Earthquake!” Gallus shouted.

Smolder popped open her wings, ready to take flight above the treacherous ground, when something hit her hard in the back of the head.

The world went dark.

“The Grrrrreat and Newly-Employed Counselor Trixie bids you enter!” a voice announced from behind the door.

Ocellus steeled herself. With Headmare Twilight and the other Professors in Canterlot preparing for Twilight’s Ascension and Headmare Starlight and the new Vice Headmare busy investigating the cause of the earthquakes, Trixie was the only pony with access to the School’s files. And Ocellus, as her friends had reminded her while tending to Smolder’s head injury, was the student most practiced in document research.

The blue unicorn clopped her hooves together excitedly as Ocellus stepped into the room. “Eeee! A changeling student! What can Trixie help you with today?”

“Well, my friends and I kind of need to track down some magical artifacts, and-”

Trixie jumped up from behind the desk. “Say no more!” she announced, flourishing her cape with one hoof. “Trixie has had all number of wonderful artifacts moved recently from her caravan to castle storage! The Great and Magnanimous Trixie would be pleased to allow you to-”

Ocellus sighed and put a hoof against her head. “Sorry. No. Sorry,” she apologized, “we need several particularartifacts.” Ocellus could sense Counselor Trixie was a little crestfallen, though she did her best to hide it. The changeling drone waved away the bitter aroma of disappointment that wafted through the office.

“Ah. What kind of artifacts would those be, then?”

Ocellus sat and raised both front hooves. A flash of blue magic swirled around them, and suddenly she had two sets of dragon claws. She flicked one talon up at a time as she revealed her search: “The Talisman of Mirage, the Crown of Grover, Knuckerbocker’s Shell, The Amulet of Aurora, The Helm of Yksler, and Clover the Clever’s Cloak.”

Trixie grinned widely. “Trixie never knew there was an enchanted cloak!” Her eyes took on a faraway look. “Imagine the tricks a pony could do with an magic cloak.”

Ocellus let her claws transform back into hooves. “Counselor?”

Trixie shook herself. “Sorry.” She cleared her throat, bringing herself out of whatever pleasant daydream she had been inhabiting. “Vice Headmare Sunburst claims to have re-organized the entire filing system to be ‘maximally efficient.’ Whatever that means.”

Ocellus eyed the various magical props, scrolls, and books that adored the various surfaces and cubby holes of the Counselor’s office. She had a sense the unicorn wasn’t a fan of organization. But she reminded herself that the Counselor was her best hope of tracking down the information on the artifacts. She forced a cheery smile. “Lead the way!”

“Artifacts comma Magical. See also Arcana comma Major; Arcana comma Minor; History comma Major Conflicts; History comma Unicorns; …” Trixie looked dazed. “Huh. That’s all very thorough.”

“Maybe,” Ocellus suggested gently, “we could look them up individually?”

The new counselor shrugged but nodded her head. “Very well. There was an amulet, yes? Trixie does have a soft spot for amulets.”

“The Amulet of Aurora,” Ocellus agreed.

Counselor Trixie slid the drawer closed and moved to the other side of the large office. “A’s,” she explained. “Let’s see… Aha!” she lifted a small file folder skyward triumphantly. The unicorn flipped the folder open with her magic. “OH FOR…” she sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. Ocellus snagged the folder.

Also known as Aurora’s Amulet. See also Arcana, Hippogriff; Conflicts, Cataclysmic.

After that, in large block letters was the word INACTIVE with a very familiar date—the day Cozy Glow had tried to drain magic from the world, and Ocellus and her friends had stopped her. After that entry, nearly every other word was redacted. Ocellus flicked her elytra in irritation. She scanned down the page and flipped to the next. Her eyes focused on one line that had survived the redactor’s fury.

Current location: ~~Castle of Friendship vault room~~ Mt. Aris, Hippogriff Territory. Outside Equestrian control. Transfer approved by Prin. T.S.

Ocellus hummed quietly to herself as she retrieved the files relating to the other five artifacts.

“Come on, Gruff! Gabby told me that you have it.” Gallus flapped lazily beside the old grump as he hobbled up the street.

“Listen, boy. I’m telling you I don’t!” The grizzled buzzard made a sour face. “And even if I did, why in Grover’s gonads would I give it to you?”

Gallus groaned. He hadn’t missed dealing with Grandpa Gruff while he’d been at school. “Because it might save the world, for starters?”

“Hah!” the older griffon barked, unfazed by the prospect of heroic sacrifice. “All the more reason to keep it for myself, then!”

Gallus ground the edges of his beak. “So you do have it?”

“So what if I do? It’s of no interest to you!”

Gallus shook his head. So many griffons had finally come to see the value of friendship. Or at least the value in the cessation of open hostilities between each other. He should have known that Gruff would have been one of the holdouts. Luckily, he had planned for just such an occasion. “Not even if I wanted to purchase it off you?”

That put a halt to the older griffon’s unsteady stride. Gallus imagined he could see flecks of gold in the other griffon’s eyes. “It’s invaluable.”

Gallus made a rude noise from his nares. “Everything has a price. Youtaught me that, Gruff.”

“I suppose I did,” the gray griffon replied. “I know that you don’t have any bits, though, so buzz off!”

Gallus touched the small pouch on his side. It rattled with the glorious sound of metal. He tried not to be too disappointed that he was going to have to spend all his newly gotten money. After all, that was the entire reason Yona had given him a claw-sized ruby from her savings. And why Sandbar had helped him exchange the gem for bits in the Ponyville market. But it was still hard to accept that he was going to have to part with as many bits as he’d ever held at one time.

Gruff actually licked the end of his beak, his thin tongue darting out almost like a snake’s. Gallus frowned and held the purse tight to his side. “The helm first. I need to know you actually have it.”

The inside of Grandpa Gruff’s cottage smelled exactly the way it always had: stale, sour, and musty. It was the smell of dissatisfaction. Gallus hated it. But he could bear it. If he could survive a test in Generosity class, he could do anything, he figured.

Gruff lifted a small wooden box from a nearby shelf and pried open the lid. Inside, a golden, many-pointed crown glittered in the low light. Gallus nodded. “How do I know it’s real?” he asked. “You’ve probably got a dozen made up to look just like it. Bet you try and sell ‘em to suckers on the street all the time.”

Gruff grunted. “Crud. That would’ve been a good idea.”

Gallus rolled his eyes. “Knock it off. I’ve seen you do it before a dozen times. Convince me it’s real if you want these bits.”

“You ingrate! Of course it’s the real one!”

Gallus ignored the insult. “And I know that because…?”

Gruff grumbled as he lifted the crown with one claw. “You can’t sense the deep, powerful magic resonating from its surface?”

The blue griffon tilted his head, examining the crown. “Nope.”

Grandpa Gruff laughed bitterly. “That’s because it’s been a dud for years, ever since that good-for-nothing King Gutto lost the Idol of Boreas. It’s just a pretty relic, boy, nothing more.” The joke was on Gruff—Ocellus had told them that Princess Twilight’s files had shown each of the artifacts had only gone inactive after helping to restore magic to the world. But then again, maybe the griffon item really had been broken long before that—rundown and neglected like the rest of Griffonstone.

Grandpa Gruff tapped a gnarled talon on the large red gem in the largest arch. “Real ruby, that.” He shifted the crown towards Gallus’ beak. “Not something I’d try to fake, see?”

It did look real. “Fine,” Gallus said, reaching back to touch the small felt purse at his waist. “25 bits.”

Gruff smiled a rough, greedy smile and pulled the crown away. “I paid 50 for it.”

Like Tartarus he had. Gallus kept his voice neutral. “55, then. Give you something for holding it for me for a while.”

Gruff sputtered angrily. “Five bits? You expect me to just give this away for five bits?!” He pushed the arches of the crowns angrily at the younger griffon. “All this gold? Worth a lot more than that!”

The tip of Gallus’ beak touched the golden crown.

This is taking too much time. I’d take seventy just to make him leave.

Gallus gasped and pulled away. “What did you say?”

Gruff’s good eye twitched. “You deaf as well as stupid?” He spat on his own floor. “I said it’s worth a lot more because of all that gold.”

Gallus eyed the crown warily. Had he heard Gruff’s thoughts? Was Gruff hearing his? Gallus imagined the old grump winning the Equestrian Lottery. When the old griffon’s exasperated expression didn’t change, Gallus breathed a sigh of relief. “Seventy,” he offered.

Gruff threw an arm up. “Robbery!” he shouted. Maybe Gallus had been imagining things. “Banditry!” the older griff ranted, “Trying to take an old griffon’s things without proper recompense!”

Gallus took and released a deep breath. “So that’s a no?”

Gruff glared at him. And then lowered his arm, palm up.

Gallus had to resist the urge to grin madly as he fished the large-denomination bits from his purse. Somehow the crown had worked for him. And even better, he’d still have a clawful of bits to line his purse. Maybe he’d take Sandbar and Yona out to dinner in thanks. He blinked slowly, realizing that maybe those Generosity lessons had worked better than he thought.

3 - The Future Six

The griffon approached the Treehouse of Harmony. He appeared to be the last one back, though not by much, since Yona still wore her sturdier gray traveling shawl instead of her normal green one, and she had a large ornamental helm on her head. “Nice crown, Gallus!” Smolder said. The dragon clearly had a good eye for quality jewelry, though Gallus suspected that was just so she could eat the most expensive things first.

Sandbar turned and looked at his friend. The pony smiled slowly as he approached. “Should we start calling you Prince Gallus, then?” He raised one hoof to his head. “Start saluting? As long as you don’t want us all bowing.” The earth pony made a mock bow, leaning down on his withers, and his mane brushed Gallus’ side.

Not that the view from below is all that bad. I wouldn’t mind-

Gallus jumped back as if burned, and he felt his cheeks flush with heat. He stared down at his friend in shock. Was there attraction in those eyes behind the teasing glint? He knew Sandbar and Yona were a thing. Or he thought they were. He flinched as he remembered all those friendly cuddles he and the pony had shared as the weather got cooler. ‘Just a way of showing your friends you care,’ Sandbar had claimed.

Oh no, he’d cuddled the rest of his friends, too, individually and in groups. Did they all have those sorts of thoughts about him? Another part of the griffon’s mind wondered if that was really such a bad thing.

“J-just-“ he shook his head, irritated at the squeaky sound of his nerves, “just Gallus is fine.”

“Okay, ‘Just Gallus,’” Ocellus teased. Gallus felt his face twitch. Was she teasing him because that’s what friends did, or was she flirting? Was there any difference with a changeling?

“Yay!” Silverstream cheered. “We’ve all got out artifact things!”

“And they’re apparently re-powered!” Sandbar agreed happily, pulling an apple from the billowing cloak that draped over his backside. “Here,” he said, reaching back into the cloak, “I brought enough to share.” He pulled out five other large, red apples and tossed them to his friends.

“So what Pony cloak do?” Yona asked. “Make apples?” she ventured.

Gallus laughed, glad for the distraction from his thoughts. “Professor Applejack would be so jealous.”

Sandbar grinned. “No, watch!” He reached his hoof back inside the cloak. As he pulled his hoof back out, it was accompanied by a large flat object. He set the front end on the floor and kept pulling, until the length of the colorful board was clearly longer than the pony’s body.

“How…?” Ocellus asked quietly.

“Hidden pockets!” Sandbar said. His tail wagged in excitement. “They’re big enough I can keep my surfboard in there! I never have to travel without it again.”

“How practical,” Smolder snarked.

Ocellus giggled. “You say that. Imagine being able to carry your entire hoard of gemstones and frilly things around.”

“Frilly things?” Silverstream asked Gallus quietly.

“Don’t ask,” the griffon advised

Smolder, meanwhile, had apparently changed her assessment of the pony’s artifact. “Can I see?” she asked.

Sandbar smiled at her. “Of course!” He pulled the edge of the cloak aside, revealing a small, thin-lined pocket. “I’ve got some cupcakes in there.”

Smolder reached a claw in eagerly but frowned as her claw hit the back of a very normally-sized pocket. “Is this a joke?” she asked as she glared and stepped away.

Gallus could see Sandbar begin to panic. “W-what? No!” he said, reaching a hoof down to the offending pocket. His hoof slid in past the cannon and returned bearing a large, pink frosted cupcake.

Gallus frowned. “How…?”

He was interrupted by a burst of colorful light all around them. As he yelped and covered his eyes, Silverstream laughed over the chorus of complaints from her friends. “Sorry! Sorry, I thought maybe we were all showing off!”

As the light faded, Smolder gasped loudly. “Guys. We should go inside. Now!” She took flight and ushered the other creatures through the front door of the Treehouse. “Come on!” she urged, “go go go!”

Gallus flew inside the doorway and rolled his eyes. “There,” he said, “happy now?” He landed just as the ground started shaking. He cursed and took flight again. There was an awful, deep groaning sound as a large section of ground in front of the Treehouse suddenly gave way and collapsed into the grotto below.

Sandbar shivered. “W-we were standing right there.”

Gallus turned slowly to Smolder. “Did you know?” he asked. “How?”

Smolder held up the teal-colored shell she had been carrying. “I think I know what my artifact does now,” she explained sheepishly. “Once we were all together, I somehow saw the ground falling.”

Yona stared out at the sinkhole, a worried look on her brow below the large yak helm. “Yak think maybe friends go unlock chest now… before ground quakes swallow Treehouse.”

Silverstream’s heart was racing. That wasn’t a new or different phenomenon, but the reason behind it was. She and her friends were going to unlock the Treehouse chest! She couldn’t wait to see the Magic of Harmony up close again. She loved being in its rainbow light and the tingly feel it left in her feathers as it passed through her. “Come on!” she encouraged, flapping her large wings as her friends followed behind. She was the fastest flyer of the group, and sometimes it was so hard for her to go slowly enough that she didn’t totally out-pace everyone.

She swooped into the room with the Harmony chest and landed beside it. It had a beautiful design: the interlocking stems and flower petals reminded her of some of the dense foliage in Harmonizing Heights, except the plants back home didn’t glow. As her friends (finally) arrived and took their places around the chest, the air above them shimmered, and a sparkling purple alicorn appeared in the air. Her form shook slightly, and Silverstream could see all the way through parts of her. She looked hazy and incomplete.

“Friends!” the projection of the Tree said. It sounded as if she were at the bottom of an underwater cave, speaking through great distance. “I am besieged.”

“Who besieges a tree?” Smolder asked skeptically.

Silverstream could think of several good reasons to assault a tree, but most of those involved getting fruit from them. She silently thanked Professor Applejack for those lessons.

“At my roots,” the Tree continued, ignoring the question. “A dark force prowls.” Her form shivered, and her already thin projection wavered before vanishing altogether. The light from the Harmony chest went dark.

Her friends stood still, shocked to silence. Silverstream treated the silence as any good Hippogriff would. By screeching at it. “Let’s go find whatever’s hurting the Tree and whoop its butt!” She pondered for a second. “Assuming it has a butt.”

Gallus pointed at the chest between them. “Maybe we should open the powerful pony-magic box first?”

Silverstream laughed. “Ooh, good thinking ‘Mr. Wisdom!’” She giggled again as the griffon rolled his eyes dramatically.

“So what do we do?” Smolder asked.

Sandbar pulled the cloak off his shoulders. “It said in the Professors’ book that they just held their items up to the locks.” He touched the cloak against his lock. “Like this.”

Silverstream pulled the Amulet of Aurora off her chest and pushed it against the chest. She watched her friends do the same with their artifacts. “This is so exciting!” she squealed.

And then…

“Nothing’s happening,” Ocellus observed.

Yona put the large, horned helmet back on her head. “If Tree hurt…”

“Maybe there’s no magic left to unseal the chest.” Sandbar finished.

“Back to butt-kicking again?” Silverstream suggested.

Smolder rubbed her claws together. “I like the way you think, Silver.”

Smolder kicked at a stalactite to clear a path wide enough for Yona. The sound echoed through the tunnels in which they found themselves.

“Which way do you think now?” Sandbar asked nervously. Asked her. Ugh, she never signed up to be a leader. Her friends had flown down the sinkhole to the grotto, and then found several small, roughly circular-shaped tunnels leading down past the base of the Treehouse. It felt like home to Smolder, but she knew most of her friends were uncomfortable being this far underground.

“Hey, Silver? Maybe a little more light?” Not that Smolder needed it. But the extra light seemed to comfort the others as Silverstream twisted a small part of the amulet open. The path branched ahead. “Left,” she announced decisively. She had nothing to base the decision on, but that wouldn’t slow her down.

They worked their way down the left branch on foot. Or hoof, she supposed, given most of her friends’ anatomies. Not a lot of room to fly.

The ground beneath her shook violently, dropping the dragon to her claws.

“Earthquake!” she heard Gallus yell in fear. Loose bits of dirt rained down on them in increasing volume. “We’re going to be buried in here!”

“Down!” Yona bellowed. “Under yak!” Smolder dove underneath Yona and felt others bump into her as they did the same.

An incredibly loud crumbling sound told Smolder that an especially large piece of earth had given way above them. Yona gave a short laugh and a twist of her head. Smolder heard the falling debris disintegrate; tiny particles of dust floated around where the larger rocks had been. The shaking slowed, then stopped.

As the friends stood back up, Yona tapped the Helm on her head. “Yksler Yak once crush entire mountain with only head and hooves. Make room for Yakyakistan. Helm of Yksler still share his yak magic.”

“An artifact about crushing things. I’m shocked,” Gallus said sarcastically.

Yona grinned. “Crushing and not crushing! Nothing smash yak wearing Helm! That why griffon safe from falling boulder.”

“Okay,” Gallus agreed. “Valid point and suddenly much more interesting.”

Whatever rebuttal Yona was going to make was swallowed by an otherworldly howl, at a pitch so low it shook the tunnel around them. Smolder was thankful when the tunnel held firm that they hadn’t needed to test Yona’s helm again so quickly. Knuckerbocker’s Shell shivered at her waist, where she had tied it to herself with rope.

A monster twice the size of Yona roars as it sees intruders in its tunnels. The enormous, sharp horn on its nose tilts towards the friends, and it charges, its body roaring with searing flames, hot enough to melt scales.

Smolder shivered. “Silverstream, kill the light! We can’t let this thing see us.”

“Uh, we can’t see in the dark like you, Smolder,” Sandbar argued.

Crap. She kept forgetting her friends had terrible eyesight. Well, terrible compared to a dragon.

“Let me try something,” Ocellus offered. She raised the small staff she carried in one slim hoof. “Everyone but Smolder come touch me.”

“Is this some excuse for you to get physical affection?” Smolder asked, “I thought you ate before coming down here.”

Ocellus glared. “Hush.” The changeling raised the Talisman of Mirage and suddenly she, Silverstream, Yona, Gallus, and Sandbar vanished. The light provided by Silverstream’s amulet winked out in an instant.

“Uh,” Smolder muttered. “Guys? Where’d you go?”

The dragon heard a small, familiar laugh. “Nowhere!” Ocellus explained. “I wrapped the light around us. Basically making us invisible! It’s a pretty complicated glamour, but the talisman makes it so much easier. You see,” she said, going into full professor mode, “what we see is solely dependent on the light reflecting back into our eyes. That’s what makes it impossible to see in complete darkness, and-”

“Thanks, professor,” Gallus interrupted. “Can we hurry this up so we can get the Tartarus out of these tiny tunnels?”

Smolder had forgotten about the griffon’s claustrophobia. The griff earned himself a few more points in her book. She wasn’t sure she’d be so cool facing down a roc as he was facing his biggest fear. “Come on,” she said, “if the shell is right, we’re close now.”

Yona was not a yak that scared easily. Which was to say, she was a yak. But the sight of the huge, spiked creature in front of her gave her the smallest bit of trepidation. The creature’s red form pressed into a glowing vein of rock with a familiar magical hue.

“That must be a root of the Tree,” Sandbar whispered. Yona nodded in agreement.

The creature opened its gaping maw of a mouth and bit down on the root. The ground immediately shook and trembled. Yona felt Gallus dart underneath her. For all his teasing, the griffon clearly understood the value of the Helm of Yksler now.

“What do we do?” Silverstream asked quietly. Her amulet glowed with the same diffuse light that filled the little pocket of hidden space that Ocellus maintained.

“We have to get it away from the Tree,” Smolder said. She had joined them inside the mirage. All five of her friends were pressed close around her. If it had been in other circumstances, Yona would have very much enjoyed the attention.

“Yak smash,” she offered.

“I know you’re strong,” Gallus said as he crawled out from under her. “Maybe crazy strong with that helmet, but that thing’s huge!”

“Yona not scared. Yona sure friends will figure out answer. Then yak will smash.”

“I don’t think smashing is on the menu at all,” Ocellus said. “We can’t risk hurting the Tree.”

“Then why did we even come down here?” Sandbar whispered. “To just sit here in the dark and stare at it?”

The creature let out another deep, earth-rattling moan.

“Why is it even eating the Tree?” the pony whined. “That can’t be good for it.”

Yona noticed Gallus go stiff. He touched the pointed crown on his head nervously. “I mean… I guess I could find out?”

“How griffon do that?” Yona asked.

Gallus cleared his throat quietly and pointed to his artifact with one talon. “The crown, uh, lets me hear a creature’s thoughts when I touch them.”

“It WHAT?” Sandbar yelped.

Yona gaped. “Griffon been touching friends THE WHOLE TIME in Ocellus’ mirage!”

Gallus laughed nervously, and his blue face flushed a deep red.

“SHH!” Smolder commanded sternly.

The creature by the Tree root turned and its skin burst into flames. Its head swung away from the Tree’s root as it searched for the disturbance. It roared, more feeling than sound at this distance, but otherwise made no other aggressive move. It slowly turned its attention back to the Tree, the flames fading from its body. Yona inched away from Gallus and thanked the great Mountains for their luck.

“Okay!” Smolder said as she leaned in close to the group. “I’ve got an idea. Here’s the plan…”

Yona led her friends forward slowly. She pushed down the worry she felt as she neared the giant creature. She was a yak. She was strong. Yksler’s Helm would protect her. And her friends’ plan would work. Her eyes darted to Gallus as the griffon sped toward the side of the creature. Right as the griffon made contact with the beast, Yona leapt out of the shimmering edge of the mirage. The beast rumbled a low warning and Gallus scrambled away from it.

“GIANT CREATURE! YAK WANT TO TALK!”

Yona tried to keep her eyes on Gallus, to be sure her friend had escaped the searing flames that burst into shape around the creature as it howled, but her attention was quickly drawn back as the monstrosity reared up towards her. Its eyes were milky white, and the horn on its snout was like nothing the yak had seen. It was jagged and twice the size of her head. And it was hurtling towards her. She winced as the horn connected with her Helm. The blow drove her to her knees, the sheer staggering force pushing her down. But her head remained intact.

From what sounded like a great distance, she heard Gallus yell, surprise evident in his tone. “It’s lost! It’s… just a child? The Tree’s warmth and magic reminds it of its mother and siblings…”

Anything else the griffon said was lost as the creature smashed down atop her again. Yona suddenly had a different appreciation for the objects smashed in Snildar Fest. Especially those that resisted a yak’s initial smashing weight.

“It… she just wants to go home!” Gallus cried.

“Down that path!” Smolder screamed after a moment, gesturing down a forked path with the blue shell she had been cradling against her scales.

Yona pulled herself to her hooves.

“CREATURE! FOLLOW YONA HOME!” She knew it almost certainly didn’t understand her, but she thought maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try to explain her intent. The skull-ringing impact of the creature’s horn on her helm a moment later only dulled her enthusiasm slightly.

So Yona led the creature, little by little, down a winding labyrinth of tunnels. The creature seethed and roared and pounded away at the much smaller yak every few steps. Despite the helm’s protections, Yona’s brain felt like pony pudding by the time Smolder gave a start and yelled behind her. The dragon had to yell three times before Yona could understand.

“They’re right down that tunnel! We’ve gotta go!” Smolder yelled. The creature smashed Yona’s head again, and the yak groaned. “Sandbar! Silverstream! You’re up!”

Yona heard a small popping sound below her hooves, and the air around her suddenly filled with pink smoke. Yona took the briefest moment to try and orient herself, and felt a rising panic when she couldn’t make up from down in the cloud of rosy smoke. Then a claw grabbed her and pulled at her coat urgently. She followed the claw until she bumped headfirst into her friends. She could just barely see them through the smoke, even within the changeling’s mirage.

The creature roared in confusion and anger.

Silverstream fiddled with the amulet around her neck, and a series of bright, multihued lights flashed down the tunnel which Smolder had mentioned, the tunnel where the creature’s family hopefully was waiting for it. Silverstream’s lightshow was bright and garish even through the slowly fading pink smoke.

The creature again howled, the sound shaking the walls around them, and it lumbered off in pursuit of the lights. Yona sighed in relief. Despite the ringing in her skull, the yak found herself hoping the creature found her family. Every creature deserved a chance at happiness.

“I can’t believe that worked!” Gallus crowed as the smoke began to clean and the six friends were left standing together inside the shimmering mirage. “Why in the world did you have a smoke bomb anyway, Sandbar?”

The earth pony smiled smugly. “An earth pony is always prepared for any situation.”

Yona chortled. “Sandbar buy whole bunch of strange things from new counselor pony ‘in case of big adventure.’”

The earth pony gave her a sour look. “Well, I was right about them being useful, wasn’t I?” He harrumphed. “Lucky thing I stashed a few in the Cloak.”

“Speaking of that,” Silverstream said as she closed off the Amulet of Aurora, “do you still have cupcakes in there? I’m famished.”

Silverstream flew ahead of her friends towards the Treehouse. It was good to be out of the tunnels and back in the air. She banked, enjoying the way the air flowed past her feathers and through her mane. As she neared the front doors, she was greeted by the shimmering projection of her now Ex-Headmare.

“Greetings, Friends!” the Twilight Sparkle doppelganger said as Silverstream landed and was joined by her friends. “Thank you for freeing me. To manage to do such a thing without malice or anger… you have proven yourselves champions of Harmony time and time again.” The phantom Twilight gestured down the hall. “I would be honored to share my gifts with you.” She vanished into a fine mist.

Silverstream squeed in excitement. “Let’s go open that chest, guys!”

The pink hippogriff flapped her wings eagerly, flying into the Treehouse and speeding towards the room housing the locked chest. Rainbow light once again shined from the box, the beautiful hues spilling out onto the walls and the creatures that gathered around it.

Remembering what Sandbar had said before, Silverstream took off The Amulet of Aurora. She felt a moment of regret in removing the Amulet. She had only had it for a few days, but she felt a strange kinship towards it. It had looked after her, helped her and her friends. She hoped whatever magic the Tree used with the Amulet wouldn’t hurt it. She pushed the artifact towards the lock bearing its symbol. Her friends did the same with theirs.

A burst of rainbow magic shot up into the air from the center of the chest, forming a luminescent orb that hung for a fraction of a moment before splitting into six beams. Silverstream squealed in delight (and perhaps a bit of shock) as the pink beam found the amulet in her claws. The rosy, magical light shone like the sun, but she could not bear to look away.

The Amulet of Aurora glowed in the light. The eye at the heart of the piece opened, adding its own magic to the sparkling effect. Silverstream blinked tears from her eyes but watched as best she could through the overwhelming amount of light. The blue gem at the center of the Amulet shifted, growing larger and changing shape. It moved like living clay, stretching until a large, pink garnet in the shape of a heart sat where the original blue gem had been.

The pink light shifted, dulled somewhat, and the Amulet spun slowly in the air in front of Silverstream. “Ooh,” she cooed, “it’s beautiful!” The rosy magic lifted the artifact up into the air, over the hippogriff’s head, and gently lowered it back around her neck.

Silverstream touched the Amulet gently with one claw. The artifact radiated a low, warm heat. It reminded her of the first time she had felt direct sunlight on her head after the fall of the Storm King, when the hippogriffs had returned to Mount Aris.

She heard gasps and joyful murmurs, and she looked up at her friends. Each of them wore an artifact that was similarly transformed, each bearing a jewel in the color of their Element.

As the magic faded, it was replaced with a projection of the Tree, again taking the form of Princess Twilight Sparkle.

“You six represent the future of Harmony: Unity, Wisdom, Conviction, Enthusiasm, Grace, and Leadership. With these Elements you serve not only Equestria, but our entire world.”

Silverstream reached out her arms and pulled the nearest creature into a tight hug. Smolder hugged her back, and her other best friends piled on less than a second later. She knew that with her friends, her fellow Bearers of Harmony, by her side, they could face whatever the world threw at them. She couldn’t wait to get started.

1 - Disturbances in the Treehouse

“So, I may have broken the Treehouse.”

All five of Silverstream’s best friends turned from their textbooks to stare at the hippogriff as she settled down beside them in their favorite library reading room. She squirmed uncomfortably on her cushion.

“Break how, exactly?” Yona asked, genuine curiosity coloring her tone. “Walls and floors strong enough to withstand yak celebration dance.”

“And they’re dragon fire resistant,” Smolder noted.

Ocellus nodded her head. “The magical properties of the Harmony magic and the natural resonant structure of the crystal should be strong enough to withstand anything we could do to it.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Silverstream,” Sandbar said soothingly. He reached a hoof out and placed it gently on her shoulder. “Why don’t you tell us what happened?”

The hippogriff sucked in a breath and eyed her friends quickly in turn. Seeing no malice, she swallowed down her anxiety and began to explain. “Well, I was going for a swim in the pool when I-“

“Wait,” Gallus interrupted sharply, “we have a pool in the Treehouse?”

“Of course we do,” Ocellus said with a small chuckle. “Just down the hall from the library.”

“There’s a library?” the incredulous griffon pouted.

“Speaking of,” the green stallion said, removing his hoof from his friend, “how didall those books get in there?”

“You’re the pony magic expert,” the griffon replied.

“Just because I’m a pony doesn’t mean I know everything about Equestrian magic!” Sandbar protested.

“Enough to help us pass tests,” the orange dragon beside him said, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest.

Silverstream cleared her throat. “But anyway, then the walls started shaking and-”

“Just earthquake,” Yona interrupted.

“Yeah,” Sandbar agreed. “We don’t get them that often here, but I’ve been through a few before. It was pretty scary, though, I understand why you’d be afraid.”

Some of Silverstream’s anxious energy flowed out of her. “Oh. Just an earthquake?” When several of her friends nodded, she grunted quietly. “I heard this loud cracking sound, too, like a huge crystal being shattered.”

“Oh no,” Sandbar wailed. “We just helped the tree rebuild! I don’t want to have another big fight and musical make-up number again so soon!”

“Shh,” the small, usually quiet changeling interjected.

“And there was this bright light from the bottom of the pool, and a flash of heat, and I… I flew out of there in a hurry.”

“Light?” one of her friends asked. “Heat?” another said.

“But the Treehouse is still standing?” Ocellus asked nervously.

“More importantly, is the pool still okay?” Gallus asked. As several creatures glared at him, he shrugged. “What? I haven’t even had a chance to enjoy it yet.”

Gallus whooped and flew over the still surface of the water. “Pluck my feathers, there isa pool in here!”

Smolder laughed. “Strange request, but okay. Which wing are we starting with?”

The griffon landed quickly and folded his wings behind him protectively. “Just an expression!” he said, mild panic entering his voice. “Who puts a pool next to a library anyway?”

Ocellus paused in her inspection of the water, tilting her head slowly. “That’s actually a good point. I hadn’t thought about that!” She raised a thin hoof and tapped it to her chin several times. “How do the books avoid being damaged by the ambient humidity?”

“Pony magic,” Yona said solemnly.

“Ooh, maybe that’s right!” Silverstream said excitedly. “What do you think, Sandbar?”

The green-coated pony groaned. “For the last time, just because it’s pony-related doesn’t mean I know everything about it!” He huffed in irritation. “Especially when it comes to magic.” He waved his front hooves in front of his head, gesturing to a non-existent horn.

“So, where’s the big scary-sounding problem?” Smolder asked, stretching and cracking the knuckles of her claws.

“Oh,” Silverstream said, glancing nervously at the pool, “it, uh, came from the bottom of the pool.”

The six friends peered into the crystal-clear, still waters.

“Yona see nothing.” Several others voiced agreement.

“Oh well. Nothing scary, so sad,” Gallus said as he leapt into the air.

“Gallus, wait!” Silverstream said, throwing up a claw, “Don’t-“

The griffon turned his body in the air, pointing down at an angle. He stretched out his lithe body arrow straight from claws to paws, and he slipped into the water. The surface of the pool rippled softly.

“Wow,” Gallus heard Sandbar say, as the griffon surfaced, “that was really graceful.”

Smolder elbowed the pony in the side. “Makes you wonder where all that grace is the rest of the time, huh?”

Gallus rolled his eyes and dove beneath the surface again, reveling in the water’s gentle tugging as he swam through it.

He glanced up, his vision shimmery and uncertain through the waves in the crystal clear water. Silverstream jumped up and hovered frantically just above the pool’s surface until Gallus re-emerged. She grabbed the griffon’s arms and lifted him free of the pool.

“Hey, what gives?” Gallus protested.

“Didn’t you hear me earlier?” the hippogriff whimpered. “About scary things happening in here?”

“There’s nothing there,” Gallus replied drily. He wiggled his shoulders until Silverstream let him go. He landed and shook the water from his back half rapidly, soaking Yona and Smolder.

Gallus dove back into the water. He heard a muffled cry of surprise that was quickly drowned out by the rushing sound of the water moving past his head. He angled his body upward, letting the movement pull him back to the surface.

“Gallus, what’re you doing?” Sandbar said, his concern plain in his voice. “Silverstream said it could be dangerous!”

“It’s fine,” the griffon said, twisting a wing and splashing water half-heartedly towards his friends. “In fact,” he said as his paws spun, treading water, “it’s better than fine. It’s great!” He swam around in a small circle. “The water’s way more comfortable than that chilly lake, especially this time of year.”

Silverstream took flight and few closer to the griffon. She hovered a few wing-lengths away from him and eyed the pool suspiciously. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Of course! If you don’t believe me, why don’t you dive in here yourself?”

The pink hippogriff shook her head slowly.

“We should get back to our studies,” Ocellus interjected. “Whether or not Silver really did see anything strange, there’s obviously nothing going on right now. But there will be something wrong with our grades if we flunk mid-terms.”

Sandbar groaned loudly. “Or that essay for Headmare Twilight.”

Ocellus huffed in irritation. “Tell me you didn’t leave that for the last second?”

Smolder jumped in to defend the pony. “It’s not like it was dueyet.”

Yona shook her head, her braids swaying widely. “Yak not procrastinate. Yona research for multiple weekends and still have work left.”

Sandbar and Smolder made sad sounds. Gallus sympathized, not having started the project himself. Not that his friends needed to know that. Besides… “I’m taking a mental health break,” he announced to nocreature in particular. He spread his wings wide and lounged back onto them, floating lazily. Floating, he thought, was like the reverse of flying.

“Come on, Gallus,” Silverstream pleaded from above him. “Let’s go back to the library.”

“No!” he said with a little more force than he intended. He blew out a breath. “No, thank you,” he amended. “It’s been a stressful week, and this is really nice.”

“I’ll make extra copies of my notes,” Ocellus offered. “Just… don’t stay too long.”

“Yeah,” Sandbar said as he winked at the griffon, “you know how wrinkly your paw pads get if you stay in water too long.”

Gallus glared at the earth pony. “You want me to tell them all about your personal grooming habits, Sandy? No? Then shush.”

Silverstream giggled as she floated back towards the group. “How wrinkly, Sandbar?”

“Hey!” the griffon protested. His friends walked off, tittering to themselves. “…rude.” He leaned back, letting the water cradle his head, the soft ripples of his movement disturbing the otherwise calm surface. He tried to let that calm flow into him. It was a funny thing to miss, solitude. He had spent so long with so little, with nogriff supporting him, that he had plunged himself headfirst into friendship when the pony school offered him a claw up. And he loved his strange group of friends. He didn’t even mind the other pony students, really. But he sometimes missed the quiet: Curling up alone in a quiet alley, when the weather wasn’t too frigid, and napping the day away. He did his best to recapture that feeling as he floated quietly along the surface of the quiet waters, the only sound the occasional splash of water against the side of the enclosure.

And then, as it had done all too often of late, Gallus found his mind lingering on graduation. Just a few months in the future, he would receive his diploma. He felt the joy in his accomplishments, but he felt pain at the thought too—a nasty, gnawing worry that chewed on his guts and tore at his heart. Because where would he go after? More importantly, where would his friends go? They all had lives and duties that would carry them away from the crystal walls of the School of Friendship, away from Equestria. And then where would he be without them?

He splashed both claws down hard into the water, like a fledgling throwing a temper tantrum. He choked and spluttered as water rained onto his face and into his beak. It wasn’t fair. They had saved the world together! Twice! They’d been part of the friendship magic that locked those three villains away in stone. They deserved something greater than just drifting apart after graduation. Something that would keep them together.

An ear-splitting sound shook the air. A fraction of a moment later, Gallus felt it through the water, as well. Another earthquake? The griffon paddled with his paws, driving his body through the water to the edge of the pool as quickly as he could. He pulled himself out of the water, fear finally catching up to him as he shook himself dry.

A bright light shone from the doorway to the library.

“I TOLD YOU I wasn’t imagining things!”

“Yeah, yeah, fair enough,” the griffon replied dryly.

“But it didn’t come from the pool?” Sandbar asked. “Silverstream said she saw the same sort of thing at the bottom of the pool.”

“No, it was definitely in the library,” Gallus replied. “I tried to see where the light was coming from, but it was blinding.” He shivered. “And hot.”

Ocellus buzzed with excitement. “Just like how Silver described it!”

Yona closed her book with enough enthusiasm that the table shook. “Friends investigate Treehouse instead of studying!”

Smolder flipped her book into the air and snapped it shut with a flick of her tail. “Just what I was going to say, Yona.”

“I suppose we could move our study session to the Treehouse instead of here,” Sandbar conceded.

Ocellus nodded happily, but the four other friends stared at the stallion as he quietly packed his book into his saddlebag.

“Dude,” Smolder said, laying a claw on the pony, “you are such a buzzkill sometimes.”

The soft sounds of sleeping creatures filled the otherwise quiet calm of the Treehouse aerie. The top room of the Treehouse had a thousand tiny windows, each a different shape, and starlight from the night sky peeked here and there into the room. Sandbar sighed softly, relenting to his relentless insomnia. He wasn’t going to be able to sleep until he got up and walked around for a bit. ‘Tired legs, tired brain’ his dad always said.

He stood slowly, carefully dislodging himself from where he lay pressed between Yona and Gallus, regretting the loss of warmth on his fur. All five of his friends snoozed softly, their overlapping limbs and tails making an enormous cuddle pile on the aerie floor. Even prickly, standoffish Smolder had her arms around Ocellus and was using Silverstream’s wing as a pillow. Not for the first time, he thanked the sun and moon that he had been chosen to attend the School of Friendship. Getting to know these creatures, bonding with them… it was the happiest he had ever been.

He turned to walk down the nearby staircase when a distant sound caught his attention. He perked his ears forward. The sound, a distant tapping or knocking, was being carried to him through the staircase. Was somepony knocking on the Treehouse door? He glanced back at his sleeping friends. The sound didn’t disturb their slumber. Sandbar shrugged and trotted quietly towards the stairs.

The earth pony stepped into the narrow, winding spiral, taking care that his hooves had properly landed on each thin step before moving forward. The knocking sound grew louder as he moved downward, until he was concerned whoever was making the sound was going to break something. He quickened his pace.

He stepped out of the landing and realized the sound wasn’t coming from the front door, after all. And that it wasn’t a knocking sound. It was a cracking, a terrible splintering sound, coming from the great hall located just off the entrance. As he neared, a brilliant light filled the space. Sandbar’s eyes went wide, and he went sprinting back up the stairs. His momentum carried him straight into the wall, and he missed a step halfway to the top. The pony toppled and felt a sharp pain as his chin connected with a crystalline step. A rush of horrible, metallic flavor washed over his tongue, and he grimaced before spitting out a glob of blood.

Ignoring the pain in his tongue and jaw, the earth pony scrambled upright and continued his rapid ascent. As he burst onto the upper landing he yelled out. “Hey! Every creature! Wake up!”

His friends roused themselves, with various degrees of urgency. Sandbar heard Ocellus mutter something about not being ready for a test.

Yona rubbed sleep from her eyes with a massive hoof. “Why Sandbar wake us?” The yak lowered her hoof and flinched upon seeing the stallion’s face.

Gallus groaned. “Don’t tell me the School is under attack or something.”

Sandbar shook his head. “No. Downstairs! It’s doing… whatever it is, again!” That got their attention, and very quickly the six friends were hurrying down the stairs together.

And as they approached the great hall… nothing. No light, no sound, nothing at all out of the ordinary.

“It was here! There was a light and a loud sound, just like you guys said before, and… and…”

Silverstream cupped the stallion’s chin in one claw, gently. She twisted Sandbar’s face to the side, inspecting the blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. “Are you okay?” she asked, concern flowing through her voice.

Sandbar stared into her large, dark eyes. “You believe me, though, right?” He asked, trying to keep the desperation from his voice.

“Of course we do,” a quiet voice reassured him. A slender hoof rubbed his shoulder. Sandbar felt Gallus’ claw on his other side.

Silverstream nodded.

Sandbar sighed in relief. “Yeah. I’ll be okay, then.”

Ocellus lay on a couch in the school lounge. She tried telling herself she wasn’t pouting, but she didn’t believe herself. For beings that had once lied about everything, her species had a hard time lying to themselves.

“Hey, little Topaz,” a friendly, gruff voice said, “what’s got you so cloudy?” The dragon approached the couch. The analytical corner of Ocellus’ brain noted the odd timing of bipedal clawsteps—so different than her own 4-hoof gait.

“Hi, Smolder,” she offered, letting her genuine happiness at seeing Smolder shine through her dampened emotional state. The dragon couldn’t eat emotions like a changeling, but it still seemed the polite thing to do. “It’s nothing.”

Smolder hopped up onto the other side of the couch and leaned back into the corner. She kicked Ocellus in the back hoof with one clawed foot, gently for her.

“Hey!”

Smolder snorted. “You are the worst liar, you know that?”

Ocellus felt several emotions wash over her simultaneously: Irritation, joy, and confusion, all at once. Changelings were excellent liars, but she was also happy to have a reputation that bucked the species stereotype. But still… “I am not!” she protested weakly. “What about when I impersonated Professor Rarity so we could skip class?” She crossed her front hooves across her chest grumpily. “Or when I pretended to be a giant piranha to scare away the fangfish from our teachers?”

Smolder huffed a small plume of smoke. “Yeah, but you can’t lie about how you feel.”

Ocellus felt herself blush. “Lucky for you,” she said quietly.

Smolder chuckled softly. “Yeah, lucky for me.” She draped her legs over the changeling’s. “So spill it.”

“It’s silly.”

Smolder snorted. “Of course it is.” Ocellus felt a spike of irritation before the dragon continued. “Doesn’t mean it’s not important, too.”

Ocellus sighed. “It’s just…” she glanced out the window to collect her thoughts. “Everyone else has seen the… whatever it is… that’s happening with the Treehouse.” She shook her head. “I dunno. But it’s been two weeks since Yona saw the light in the Treehouse cellar. More than three since Sandbar woke us up in the aerie about his experience. And nearly as long since you…” The changeling felt a claw slide under her elytra and shivered, refusing to take her usual comfort from the touch. “It’s like you’re all being tested, or called, or…” she drifted off, unwilling to voice her concern.

“You think that this is some friendship thing, and the Tree is excluding you.” Smolder said the words quietly, calmly, but they still struck Ocellus like a brick. She nodded, feeling tears welling in her eyes. “First of all,” Smolder continued, her voice steady and firm. Ocellus tasted steely notes of certainty in the air, “if it is some kind of test or something, you’ll do just fine—you’re the smartest creature I know.” Her tone shifted, becoming dark and sharp. Fiery peppers layered over the metallic taste. “And second, if that Tree decides otherwise, she’s clearly pretty stupid. You’re so, so important to us. You’re a vital part of our group.” The claw under the elytra slipped between folded wings and clenched for a moment. Ocellus felt the sharpness of the claws—not a threat at all, but a promise the dragon could and would keep a hold on her. The flavor of the emotions in the air took an ecstatic turn towards sugary bliss. Ocellus whimpered softly. “I say,” Smolder growled, “we go camp out, you and me, until the Tree decides to show you something too.”

Ocellus nodded fervently.

Sandbar trotted through the Treehouse, a small smile on his face. Princess Twilight had just announced her immediate departure from the School of Friendship for her Ascension. Sandbar figured on many levels he was sad about the change in Headmares, but one thing he wasn’t going to miss next semester was the lengthy essay Twilight assigned in each of her classes. Starlight Glimmer (HeadmareGlimmer, he corrected internally) seemed far less likely to set unending research tasks for students. Unless it was about kites, possibly. He wanted to bring Smolder and Ocellus the news, since they had been camped out in the Treehouse the last few days.

The earth pony peeked his head through a door into one of the small salons and saw the dragon and changeling in question on a couch. Saw their bodies pressed tightly together and heard soft, urgent sounds, and he felt his face flush. He tried to duck back quietly but heard himself utter a timid “eek!”

The sounds from the other room stopped. “Sandbar, was that you?” Ocellus asked, her voice strained. Sandbar tried not to think about why she sounded breathless.

“Um. Yeah?” he replied.

An orange dragon flapped out into the hall, her arms crossed over her chest. The stallion’s eyes darted to the ground. Smolder laughed roughly. “Oh come on, don’t act like you’ve never seen us kiss before.”

“N-not when you’re…” …rolling around on a couch, pressed close… “m-making out…” He swallowed roughly. It was hot in the Treehouse suddenly.

A claw lifted his chin suddenly. Sandbar stared into mischievous eyes the color of a clear sky. “You wanna watch again?” she suggested playfully.

“Smolder!” Ocellus chided loudly as she, too, made her way into the hall. A small, chitinous hoof slapped the dragon’s claw away from the pony. “Be nice!”

The dragon grumbled darkly. “I was.”

Ocellus shook her head ruefully. “What do you need, Sandbar?”

The stallion shook himself, glad for the change in topic. “Oh! Princess Twilight announced her Ascension earlier. She’s going to rule Equestria and Counselor Starlight Glim—”

“SHH!” Ocellus interrupted.

The earth pony blinked slowly. “But I, uh…”

Ocellus shushed him again. She looked at Smolder and Sandbar, her compound eyes unusually wide. “Can you not hear that?”

Sandbar perked his ears forward and listened. He shrugged.

“Hear what, Cell?” the dragon asked.

Ocellus fluttered her wings nervously. “This way!” she yelled before darting forward.

Sandbar blinked, taken aback by the display of enthusiasm Ocellus usually saved for term papers and pop quizzes. He galloped off after his friend, Smolder running by his side in her awkward two-legged gait.

The three creatures rounded a corner, and Ocellus suddenly pulled up short. Sandbar danced nimbly to the side to avoid plowing into her. “It’s happening!” Ocellus said gleefully. “Oh goodness, it’s so much scarier than what you both described.”

Sandbar looked at Smolder for clarification. The dragon shrugged expressively. The hall ahead of them was empty and quiet, as usual. Ocellus whipped her head around to stare at him. And then at Smolder. She stuck out her tongue briefly, as if smelling something distasteful. “Why are you confused and not scared? Or excited? Or…” She whipped her head back to stare down the hall and then back to her friends. “You can’t see it?” She flinched. “Or hear it?”

Sandbar shook his head slowly. He saw Smolder do the same from the corner of his eye.

Ocellus pulled herself up tall. She was a slight thing, but she made herself look regal in that moment. “You all were alone when it happened.”

Understanding began to dawn on Sandbar. “Oh!” he said, “the sound and light!”

Smolder tilted her head to the side, thinking. “I guess we were.”

Ocellus nodded. “But I can hear it. Feel it. Right through that door,” she nodded to the side where a plain, crystalline door stood. A wave of blue magic sheathed her form, and suddenly heavy plates of armor replaced the usual thin chitin of her exoskeleton. “I’m going to see what it is.”

Sandbar whinnied. “Not alone, you’re not!”

“We should get the others,” Smolder said.

Ocellus shook her head. “No,” she said, determination plain in her tone, “It didn’t last very long for either of you. We don’t have time.” Her gaze fell on Smolder and her voice turned plaintive. “Please, I need to know.”

Smolder nodded slowly. The dragon had never been easy for Sandbar to read, but he thought she looked proud. The stallion took a deep breath. “Together, then!” Smolder stepped to the front and put a claw on the door.

Ocellus flinched as the dragon opened the door. “It’s so hot!” she cried out, shrinking back from the door.

Sandbar glanced through into the small chamber beyond. It looked perfectly ordinary to him—no heat, no light. And then he heard a sound. One ear flicked back to listen. A knocking, cracking sound. It wasn’t coming from the room in front of him. His eyes went wide. It was coming from the same place as before. It had to be. He looked at Smolder in alarm, to see her eyes wide too. “You hear it too?”

“Yeah, in the basement among the roots again!”

“What?” Sandbar said in confusion. “No. The knocking from the great hall.”

Ocellus gasped. “It’s individual!” Sandbar stared at her in confusion. “Whatever this magic is, each instance of it can only be seen by one of us.”

Smolder nodded, taking up the thread. “And if it’s all happening at the same time…”

“We have to get the others!” Sandbar cried.

“And what if it’s dangerous?” Ocellus asked, shielding her face with a slender hoof.

“Hey Tree!” Smolder shouted. “Is this a test or something?”

The three creatures were greeted with silence—no sparkly apparition or dream voice responded to the question.

Smolder grunted. “Okay, I’m the fastest one here. I’ll get the others and get them back here pronto.” She slapped a claw against the earth pony’s shoulder. “You two stay safe.”

Sandbar nodded earnestly, and the dragon launched herself into the air, zipping off down the hall.