Starscribbles

by Starscribe

Rating: teen
Tags: Anthology, Main 6, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Human, Original Character, Science Fiction, Profanity, Violence
Length: 22211

Not every adventure is enough to make a novel. Those little bits that don't quite fit, those are the Starscribbles.

The following is my anthology collection of oneshots and other scraps that wouldn't merit their own release. Not all of it will be up to my usual editing standard, though some of it might be. Here are the contest entries, the oneshots I abandoned, or just didn't think warranted a cover and a proper release. I've always been more about long-form fiction, but the shorter stuff has to go somewhere.

Consider each chapter to be independent, and seeing something here is effectively a guarantee there won't be any more of that thing. Context for each section in their authors' notes.

Cover by Zutcha.

Published 2020-03-30 01:20:02 UTC
Last updated 2022-10-05 19:29:31 UTC

The Well

Author's Note

This oneshot was written for the Annonfilly contest, where it took third. It's not really a subject I'm super passionate about, but it still would've been a shame not to enter. I think I probably could've done a little more with a longer wordcount, though I still like the job this story did at getting the main points across.

The Well

“Starlight, can we go today?” It was the same question the filly had been asking Starlight every day. It felt like months, though of course the child hadn’t been in Ponyville that long. And what does study under a princess get me? Foalsitting duty.

“No, Anon. We’re not going to the Everfree today. Or tomorrow, or the next day.”

The earth filly was adorable, in the same way as a pet with three legs. Anon wasn’t terribly large or very memorable, but she sure had ‘pathetic’ down to a science. She retreated a step, bumping her rear into the crystal wall of Twilight’s castle, before spinning to glare at it like she might attack. “But I need to go. You don’t understand, Starlight! None of you take me seriously!”

Of course we don’t. Look at the way you act. Starlight smiled parentally, lifting the filly gently off her hooves for a moment, straightening her, and settling her back down. “I notice you’re not wearing your schoolbags, Anon. Do you want to be late for class? You know the Cutie Talents Showcase is tonight, don’t you?”

The filly muttered something unintelligible. She looked like a pony sharing the worst profanity, but none of the words she used ever quite made sense. “Forget my class. I need to go to the Everfree!”

She’s never going to drop this if I don’t indulge her. Starlight nudged her with her snout, gesturing up the stairs. “You can’t miss class on the day of the Cutie Talents Showcase Anon. Why don’t we walk together? You can explain why it’s so important for a filly to go somewhere so dangerous, and I’ll listen very closely.”

“I only found out about it, uh…” the filly held up one hoof, squirmed as she stared at it, then tucked her tail and tripped.

Starlight caught her, a little pressure from her magic was more than enough to stop the filly from faceplanting. But how do you manage without a pony around to help you?

“Three days ago,” Anon went on, as though she hadn’t nearly fallen over while walking down a hall. “I heard from, uh… Apple Boose.”

“Apple Bloom,” Starlight corrected. They reached the filly’s room—a closet no smaller than the one they’d stuffed her in. She poked her head in, nose wrinkling at the smell.

Nothing was in place. Trash was scattered everywhere, including a small mountain of paper drink containers piled up by the desk. She’d never seen the filly wear anything, yet somehow she’d found plenty of dirty laundry to pile up high enough to make crossing the room difficult.

You make me wish I could still send ponies to a labor camp. “Let’s, just, uh…” Starlight scanned the room, spotting a set of saddlebags emerging from the mess. She lifted them up, securing them on the filly’s back. She’d never make it to class if she had to put it on herself. “There. You were saying?”

“Apple Juice said there was somewhere that wasn’t all… rainbow puke. Somewhere with monsters and demons and weather that doesn’t care what the horses tell it to do.”

Starlight Glimmer gave her a little push towards the stairs, following close behind. “Yes, that’s the Everfree. Though something tells me she didn’t say it like that.”

Anon ignored her, growing more excited with her explanation. “So that’s what I’ve been looking for since I got here! That’s where, uh… that’s where it is.”

Her eyes crossed for a moment, and she nearly fell over. Apparently the effort of thinking of one subject for more than a few minutes was too intense for her. “Where what is, Anon?”

“The Well,” Anon declared, her voice going momentarily flat. It might’ve been the first sincere thing she’d ever said. “I need to get there.”

Starlight had to keep urging her on, pulling her away from the kitchens and a dozen other little ways for her to sneak off before class. Some days, she even succeeded.

“I thought you didn’t remember anything specific,” she said. Not confrontationally—the filly never cooperated if it turned into an argument. “Is that changing?”

“What? I remember tons of stuff, Starbright. Like how I’m too old to get dragged off to a grade school. I already had to sit through schoolhouse rock once, just put a bullet in me instead.”

Starlight Glimmer had already scanned the filly’s mind for confounding spells, or else she probably would’ve done it again. She made those sounds like they were words, but they clearly didn’t hold any meaning.

“Starlight,” she prompted, patting her gently on the head with one hoof. “Though good effort. You’re getting better with names every day. Maybe one day you’ll tell us yours, huh?”

“Not bloody likely.” She twisted to the side, wiggling her flank and its strange mark. “Someone might find out I’m this stupid girl horse. Then they’ll ship me out to a petting zoo, or maybe I’ll do visits at little girl’s birthday parties.”

Even knowing what it was, Starlight was taken aback every time she saw it. Anon was the first and only pony she’d ever met with a simple punctuation symbol as her cutie mark. Not even Twilight could guess what talent it represented.

But for a second there, you were almost being honest with me. How do I get that pony back? The sooner she could get Anon to stop acting so… strange, the sooner she could find her a proper foster home.

And the sooner I’ll be free to focus on more important things. “Alright, Anon. I’ll make a deal. Your presentation tonight, for the Cutie Talents Showcase. If you get at least a Luna on your scorecard, I’ll… take you through the Everfree. On the safe paths, during the day.”

But Anon had stopped listening several syllables back. She squealed with delight, jumping into the air before wrapping one green foreleg around Starlight. “Thanks, Starbright! I’ll… I can do it.”

She retreated a few steps, puffing out her chest and composing herself. “I, uh… I can get a B. No problem. Passing and I’m through. Got it.”

She spun as they exited the castle, nearly tripping herself again on the dirt road just outside. “I’m gonna… you don’t have to walk me today, Pinko. I’ll see you after class!” she turned and galloped, determination on her face.

If a hike through the Everfree is what it takes to get her to be normal, then I don’t mind a hike.

Starlight knew how important the Cutie Talents Showcase was to the young fillies and colts of Ponyville. She’d forced herself to go each time, largely as a reminder for what she’d once stolen. She couldn’t forget her mistakes, lest she repeat them.

Still, there was something awkward to finding her place in the audience of the makeshift stage—in Ponyville’s city hall this year. Anon isn’t mine. I don’t think she even has a special talent.

Starlight squinted up at the stage, searching for any hint of the foals’ preparation. Maybe having something she wanted would give Anon a reason to try.

She’s always claiming to be older. What could happen to a filly to make her so bitter all the time?

The curtains opened, and Cheerilee appeared with her usual introductions. Starlight did her best to listen, though there was nothing new for her here. This was a chance for her students to express their special talent and prepare for whatever career waited for them in Equestria.

Then the first pair of students walked onto the stage. They had some expensive-looking instruments, and were apparently going to play something classical.

“Excuse me. Yes yes, Trixie isn’t here to perform. Just let me… past.”

Starlight spun, eyes narrowing at the source of the noise behind her. Of course there was no mystery about the sort of pony who’d make so much noise in the middle of somepony else’s performance.

Trixie squeezed past another row, then sat down beside Starlight.

“Trixie?” Starlight whispered. Despite the dignity this first pair of students were going for, the environment was relaxed. They wouldn’t be the only ones whispering back and forth. “I didn’t think you watched other ponies perform.”

The showpony had come in costume, for reasons that only The Great and Powerful Trixie would ever truly know. Starlight watched the pony behind her stretch and strain to both sides, trying to see around the hat. Starlight levitated it down onto the ground in front of them, and Trixie didn’t even seem to notice.

“Trixie is always looking for new talent,” she said. “Entertainment is a fiercely competitive arena, so she needs to be informed of potential rivals before they appear.”

Even she fell silent as the first round of applause echoed through the room. Nothing too excited—classical music wasn’t exactly interesting to most of Ponyville’s rural inhabitants.

“But this time I’m here to evaluate an addition to the act. A pair of long-time fans are performing an original illusion. I’m excited to see what they came up with.”

“That’s… surprisingly sweet of you,” Starlight admitted. “I didn’t think you could…” Think about anypony but yourself.

But Trixie was improving. She shouldn’t be surprised that she’d made progress.

“Oh, that’s them now!” She sat up straighter, watching intently as a pair of young colts walked onto the stage.

The inspiration for their costumes was obvious, given the starry pattern they’d copied. Trixie didn’t seem bothered by it, in any case.

Starlight would never understand the appeal of illusions, given they were surrounded by creatures capable of literal magic. But her friend seemed to enjoy it, and maybe that was enough.

The other students took their turns one after another, and with each one Starlight grew more nervous. Why did you wait for the end of the show, Anon? It’s not going to get easier by putting it off until the end.

Starlight wasn’t sure if she’d be disappointed or just relieved if the filly never performed. Half of Ponyville thought she was Starlight’s own child, despite lacking a single physical resemblance.

It’s okay, Starlight. She wants to go on that trip. She probably put a lot of effort in.

Finally the curtains opened, and there she was on the stage. Anon sat awkwardly on a stool, without any props or costume. She stared out at the crowd, ears flattening and tail tucking as unmistakable weight of stage-fright hit her.

Buck.

Anon rose from her seat, clearing her throat. “I, uh… I decided I was gonna do standup. Because you’ve got… so many extra legs, see? You don’t need…”

No one laughed. Starlight couldn’t be sure, but she doubted anypony even smiled.

“I was, uh… talking to Twilight the other day…” More winces and groans. Plenty of the town’s ponies knew the princess closely, but even so—the ones who weren’t her friends certainly didn’t just call her that.

“You know, Twilight? The princess of the anal-retentives? Where I come from they just give you a prescription for that, maybe a counselor, but…”

No laughter. Starlight seemed to be one of the few ponies in the room who understood what Anon was trying to say. The others only seemed baffled.

Cheerilee rose from her seat, expression hardening. Apparently she knew, too.

“Hehe, tough, uh… tough crowd.” The filly winced. “Guess this isn’t an… how about those doorknobs? Did you ever think about why—”

As Cheerilee walked, she dragged the curtains along in her mouth. Anon didn’t notice until she’d just about blocked her. “That’s all the time we have! We’re serving snacks in the banquet hall upstairs. Make sure to congratulate this year’s colts and fillies for their fantastic performances!”

“But I’m not—”

She wasn’t even listening. The curtains closed, and ponies began to rise. Conversation rose from between them, moving towards the stairs and their waiting children.

“I’ve seen better responses at funerals,” Trixie muttered. “That green one you adopted, tell her to keep her day job. Though Trixie would like to see Twilight’s face when she hears about this.”

Starlight gritted her teeth. “I didn’t adopt her. I was assigned after she was too much for Twilight to handle.”

“Right, right.” Trixie patted her on the shoulder. “I thought I had trouble getting along with others, but that filly is in a league all her own. Trixie wishes you luck with her—she’s got some advice to give to a pair of aspiring magicians.” She rose, slipping away with the rest of the crowd.

Starlight remained in her seat, letting the other ponies pass her by. Most of the other little colts and fillies had already reached their parents, lured by the promise of sweets. She didn’t see any green and black in that crowd, though.

The sound of conversation faded into a dull, distant murmur. Ann all-too familiar sound of other ponies enjoying their friendship while Starlight was alone.

She hesitated as she reached the curtains, one ear perking up. There was a sound coming through from the other side, one she’d never heard from Anon before.

She was crying. Starlight lifted the edge of the curtain with her magic, peeking inside just enough to confirm without making her presence there too obvious.

The filly hadn’t moved from her position at the end of the performance, sitting in place with her eyes down and her ears flat. She was actively fighting her tears, wiping them away every few seconds and trying to straighten—but without success.

Can’t fight feelings like that forever, kid. Sooner or later you have to realize the one commonality between all your failures is you.

“Hey,” Starlight poked her head in. “Guess that didn’t go quite the way you expected, did it?”

Anon snapped alert, rising to her hooves and glaring daggers at Starlight. “Fek off wanker, nobody asked you!”

Starlight ignored the instruction, slipping the rest of the way in and settling down on her haunches within reach of the filly. Not actually touching her, since that would probably prompt her to run. “That’s a different accent than I usually hear from you.”

Anon glowered for a few more seconds, before her strength crumpled like a can. “You’re here to…” she sniffed. “Gloat, right?”

I would’ve before. But humility is much more important than your grade. “We’ll see,” she said, noncommittally. “I might.”

“Don’t have to wait and see for that,” Anon whispered. “I could see it on Cheerilee’s face. She’s going to enjoy failing me. Feckin’ talent show and she’s failing me. I don’t know what I’m here for, but it ain’t being a horse.”

“So you do know her name.” Starlight reached gently towards her with a hoof, wrapping it around her shoulder. “Well I’ll tell you one thing, Anon. You special talent isn’t comedy.”

She waited for a reaction, but not even a smile. Still, the filly hadn’t pulled away from her. If anything she was clinging to Starlight’s leg, as desperate as any child.

“Sorry, that was probably too soon. But bad grades happen. Not everypony can be Twilight.”

There was a long silence. Anon didn’t look up when she spoke. “I will, sure. How do you all say it—I don’t bucking care about my grades?”

“Language,” Starlight chided.

“I’ll get over it,” Anon repeated. “But no one else will. I don’t get to go to the Everfree now. I won’t be going to the Well. Nothing changes.”

Starlight rose suddenly to her hooves, pulling away from the filly. I’m probably going to regret this. “It’s really that important to you?”

The filly stood behind her, swaying on her hooves. Then she nodded. “Y-yeah.”

“Then I’ll take you. Wait, before you get too excited. We’re going to stay on the path, and we won’t be going anywhere too dangerous. You’re still a filly, and Twilight—” Probably wouldn’t ask twice if you stopped showing up around the castle, after what you did. “Would be very upset with me if something went wrong.”

“Sure she would.” Anon stuck her tongue out, grinning. Then she leaned forward, wrapping her forelegs around Starlight. “Thanks, m—horse. Thanks horse.”

“But you have to stop calling everypony that,” Starlight continued, pushing the pony gently away. Considering the state of her room, Starlight would probably get some kind of infection if she touched her for too long. “Pony, not horse. That word is only polite for Saddle Arabians.”

Whatever little touch of sincerity Starlight had seen in the filly was long gone now. She coughed and spluttered, nearly falling over. “You’re kidding me. There’s no way that’s a thing.”

A trip into the Everfree wasn’t as big of a deal as Starlight had made it out to be. Of course it was useful for Anon to think this was an incredibly big deal, so when this inevitably went nowhere the filly wouldn’t ask for seconds.

Her moment of sincerity had earned her one trip into the forest. Besides, it’s probably some uncharacteristically cruel joke. It’s like what happened with Twilight all over again. Starlight didn’t have the princess’s hang-ups, but even she had a few nightmares about so many quesadillas in one place.

She made a big deal out of packing the filly’s bags, loading her up with everything a child might need it they got lost. “Whistle, first aid kit, compass, map, knife, snacks—”

“You mean farm animal food in a stick.” Anon watched her load up the bag, glaring more intently the more got loaded inside. “We’re not camping. Can’t we just go?”

“What do you do if you’re lost?” she asked, ignoring her complaints.

“Stay in place,” she answered, voice going flat and exasperated. “Blow my whistle until night. If it gets dark, climb up high and hide until morning. But I’m not gonna get lost. I know who you are, Starlight. You beat up a princess. Anything that gets in your way is gonna get…” she held up one hoof, then tried to do the same with the other and nearly fell over.

She lowered her voice for more profanity. “Dead. It’s gonna die. Cuz you’ll kill it.”

Starlight sighed, closing the strap and pushing the saddlebags back to her. In a way, the filly’s confidence was a compliment she didn’t get from the ponies that surrounded her daily. To them, learning her past terrified them.

I didn’t just beat the princess. I almost ended civilization. I wonder what you’d think of that. It was endearing, almost.

“That’s right,” Starlight secured the saddlebags in place on her back, then turned. “Well, those first things. I think Fluttershy would be pretty upset if I killed anything. She knows many of the creatures personally, even the frightening ones.”

“Personally,” Anon repeated. “You can’t know an animal personally. It’s just an animal.”

“Don’t say that to Fluttershy,” Starlight turned to go. “She’s pretty harsh with ponies who threaten her animals.”

The Everfree wasn’t that far from Twilight’s castle, really. She could already see the treeline from its doors, and Fluttershy’s cabin sitting quietly in the distance. What Starlight hadn’t expected to see was the pony heading up the path toward them. “Trixie? I thought you were going to Manehattan today. Didn’t you… need supplies for your next show?”

Trixie might not be wearing her costume, but she had brought her own set of saddlebags—with stars sewn into the fabric, of course. “When you commission an apparatus this complex, the craftsponies know they may need to hold it in reserve for a few days. It will still be there for me tomorrow.”

She leaned in closer, grinning. “I heard you were going to the Everfree. I couldn’t possibly let my good friend travel to that awful place alone. But if we can cross the world together and fight a changeling queen, than we can certainly survive a trip to the Everfree.”

“You did what to what?” Anon asked, raising an eyebrow. “You two did Marco Polo together?”

Trixie’s eyes went wide. “Well you’re a little young to be asking questions like that, aren’t you?” She turned up her nose. “Trixie thinks the filly should show a little more respect. Is she always like that, Starlight?”

Yes. “No. She’s just… precocious. She’s been waiting to go out for long enough that she can’t contain her excitement. Isn’t that right, Anon?”

The filly nodded, though she was missing the usual expression she wore when she thought she’d won something over on them. This was her “what did I do wrong?” face.

“Yeah,” she said. “I, uh… yeah. I’m so excited to be going. Can’t wait to…” she trailed off, turning for the forest. Despite how little Anon usually seemed to care about Ponyville, she knew exactly where they were going.

Just like she knows more names than she lets on. “How far away is the Well?”

“What is she talking about?” Trixie asked. Without formal word between them, they were on their way. Starlight wouldn’t admit it, but she was grateful for the company.

Trixie might not be magically useful, but at least she wouldn’t be alone with Anon for an entire day. It would be nice to have a pony around to remind her that everyone wasn’t that way.

“I don’t know,” Starlight answered. “To both of you. Anon, you’ve only told me that name. Just because you know what it is doesn’t mean that we do. I don’t know that it exists. I don’t mean to disappoint you now, but…”

“It’s there.” Anon marched ahead of both of them, her tail held high and her eyes focused on the forest. She’d never seen the filly so intent on anything before. “It’s there, and we’re going to find it.”

Starlight wasn’t sure exactly where Anon actually wanted to go. After a very short time, it became clear to her that she didn’t know either.

But once the castle’s old rope bridge came into view, Anon ignored it for the smaller, fainter trail leading further away.

“Are we sure we should be going out so far?” Trixie asked, between sips from her Trixie-themed canteen. “It doesn’t look like most ponies come this way.”

Starlight shrugged, keeping her voice down. Anon was so focused on the trail that she probably wasn’t listening, but she didn’t want to risk being overheard just in case. “If I make her turn back before she’s satisfied, she’ll just obsess about coming back here. I’ve had to deal with her long enough to know that.”

Trixie nodded, grinning back at her. “That’s thinking ahead.”

“There’s no reason to expect we’ll find anything,” she continued. “Anon hasn’t ever been here. She only heard of the Everfree last week. I’m not sure what she even expects to find in here.”

“There!” The Filly called from up ahead, voice suddenly excited. She gestured and pointed with a hoof, into a crack in the rock that Starlight wouldn’t have even noticed. But as Anon got closer, a faint green glow emerged from inside. It brighter and fainter like something alive, answering her presence with magic of its own.

“What is that?” Trixie stopped dead on the path, eyes widening. “Starlight, I thought you said we weren’t going to find anything!”

“She said that?” Anon whimpered, ears flattening again. “Starlbright, it’s here! Just like I said! I knew it had to be close…”

“Why?” Starlight wasn’t afraid—not of the entrance, anyway. She was barely listening to the filly anymore, though. Instead, she kept her eyes on the opening, feeling at it with her magic. There was power here, though it wasn’t one she’d ever felt before. “How did you know?”

“Because it’s how I got here.” Anon didn’t seem to care how afraid they were, slipping down into the opening.

Good thing I’m not claustrophobic.

“Trixie will wait up here,” she declared, settling onto her haunches. “Just… don’t take too long. If we have to spend night in a cave, Trixie is going to reconsider her priorities.”

Starlight Glimmer stepped into the gloom, bathed in faint green light. She expected it to fade—more like a beacon so passing ponies could find the entrance. But the further she went, the light only grew brighter.

There would be no danger of getting lost. Through the little crack in the rock, the cave expanded to a vast space, like a funnel stretching down. There wasn’t a staircase in the side so much as an awkward shelf of rock that almost felt stable enough to climb.

“Slow down!” she called, her voice echoing strangely in the vast space. It shifted and wavered in pitch, like a thousand other Starlights had joined in with her. But no matter how much she looked, she couldn’t see anypony else.

Wait, that wasn’t right. There was a shape approaching her from behind, a misshapen outline distorted and stretched by green glow.

“Trixie changed her mind. She’s coming with you after all. The wildlife is already closing in on her.”

Starlight nudged her gently, trying to shut her up without startling her over the edge. Not that she wouldn’t be able to catch her if she fell—but the look of this place made her think she’d need her magic for more important things before too long.

“I think you picked a much more dangerous place,” she whispered. She hurried to try and catch up with the filly, but she could only move so quickly over the uneven stone.

Starlight chanced a glance over the edge, down into the bottom of the cavern. There glow was the strongest, and a pool of liquid had collected. “Be careful, Anon. You shouldn’t be down here. This is princess level stuff. Let Twilight come here and investigate.”

The filly was just out of reach now—while Starlight didn’t feel she was moving that fast, the child could barely limp along without tripping. “Are you kidding? If Twilight finds out this has anything to do with me, she’ll claim the entrance caved in and never look back.”

You’re probably right.

Anon slowed as they neared the bottom, eyes never leaving the strange green liquid. This close the magical pressure against Starlight’s horn was almost overwhelming… but also strange, like a hoof running the wrong way down her fur.

This isn’t Equestrian magic. It’s coming from somewhere else. “This thing… made you?”

Where before her voice had echoed, now every word she spoke was badly muffled, barely audible in the darkness between them.

“No.” Anon sat on the edge of the pool, staring down with eyes so wide they were black. “I… came through from here. From the other side.”

“We should leave,” Trixie said, a little louder. “Trixie knows a tough room when she sees one. This is the kind of place that gets you chased out of town.”

“Are you…” how could she ask without sounding too eager. “Was this about going home? You found your way here by accident, so you’re going back down?”

Anon shook her head. “I don’t think there’s a home to go back to.”

She glanced back at Starlight, considering. “Guess I’m not really much of a horse, am I? Never… really wanted to be.”

Starlight rested a hoof on her shoulder. “You don’t have to be at your age, Anon. You can decide to change any time you want, trust me. Equestria has plenty of space for ponies who change.”

“And be stuck here?” The filly turned up her nose, probably about to say something cruel—but she hesitated. “I could have a worse retirement.”

Before Starlight could stop her, she bent down and took a drink.

The cave rumbled and shook, nearly taking her legs from under her. Was it… caving in? A huge chunk of rock landed with a crash nearby, spraying them with chunks of stone.

Starlight had been ready for something like this, so she didn’t hesitate. She focused, forming a protective shell around everypony at the bottom of the cave, and teleporting them back out onto the surface.

They appeared in a flash. Starlight wobbled on her hooves, dropping down to rest on one knee and catch her breath.

The world came slowly back into focus around her, voices fading back in after the impact of her spell. Starlight was quite good at teleportation, but with so much stray magic blasting all around her…

Why the buck did you do that, Anon? Were you trying to get us killed? Or maybe just poison yourself.

But as Starlight was finally able to get a good look, she realized with horror that something was wrong. She hadn’t brought three ponies out of that cave, but four.

Trixie was just beside her, exactly where she’d been standing relative to Starlight when she teleported. But in front there were two young ponies.

One young pegasus filly, with a splotch white and blue coat, looking slightly annoyed—and Anon, soaking wet and curled into a fetal position. She didn’t move, barely even seemed to be breathing.

Sweet Celestia I killed her.

Ignoring the strange new pony—that was a problem she could solve in a bit—she dropped down beside the filly, nudging at her with a hoof. “I’m sorry, Anon! I shouldn’t have let you come here! Please wake up…”

The child didn’t respond.

“I’m right here,” said the stranger, in a voice Starlight had never heard before. “Did you just have a stroke?”

Starlight prodded the filly again, growing more rational as she gave her brain a chance to catch up. She could feel a pulse, even if the pony wasn’t conscious. Starlight settled her back down, nice and gentle.

“Who the buck are you?” Trixie asked. “I didn’t see any other ponies lurking in that awful cave.”

“I’m A—” The filly tilted her had slightly to the side, suddenly contemplative. “Wait, no. I had a name. Why the hell couldn’t I remember that?”

She shoved past Trixie, embracing Starlight shamelessly. “Thanks for bringing me here, Starlight. I feel… god, like my brain just got some industrial defogger.”

Starlight stiffened reflexively at the stranger’s touch, at her totally unknown smell. But even if she didn’t sound the same, the way she spoke… that was familiar. “You’re Anon?”

“Not anymore, I think.” She let go, glancing back at the cave entrance. Or… where it had been. Where before the rock had yawned open, glowing green, now it was speckled black, without any sign something had been there. “I’m Sidney, or I was. Guess I might need something new if I stick around.”

Sidney had a cutie mark, a little paper plane with hearts on the wings. A real pony, with a real talent.

“Starlight, I think Anon is waking up,” Trixie called, nudging the pony with a hoof. “Unpleasant green child, are you alright?”

The pony opened her eyes, looking dazed. She reached out with both legs, wrapping them around Trixie’s. “Mom? Where am I?”

“I’m not your mother,” Trixie muttered. “Now, get up. You’re getting forest all over you.”

The filly tried to stand—with just her hindlegs, flopping forward uselessly. At least she didn’t have very far to fall.

“I guess there was only enough room for one at a time.” Sydney reached out, helping the filly to her hooves. “Buck, I remember that feeling. Half alive, half roasted almonds. You’re in for an awful ride, Anon.”

“It’s getting dark soon.” Starlight gestured back the way they’d come. “We need to be back in Ponyville before that. Can you help Anon, Trixie?”

The showpony didn’t look like she wanted anything to do with her—but she didn’t have a choice. Anon clung to her like a foal half her age. After a few minutes of struggle, she gave up and just let her do it.

Sydney wasn’t being quite so clingy, but she was clearly following Starlight. “That thing, it was the Well?” Starlight asked. “What’s it a well of, exactly?”

Sydney shrugged. “Thanks for taking me either way. I’ve made up my mind—I’d like to stay here. If you’ll keep me around.”

She considered a long time before answering. By the time she did, Ponyville was coming into view through the trees, Twilight’s castle rising imposing in the distance.

“I might. But you can’t call me ‘Starbright’ again.”

Tall Socks for Legitimate Purposes

Dusty Sprocket had been waiting years for a chance to visit Skijoring. The mountains hosted a resort, reserved only for the wealthiest of Canterlot’s elite. Unfortunately for Dusty, he wasn't the kind of pony with a fancy name and enough bits to fill a swimming pool.

But love, as it turned out, could solve all kinds of problems, even the ones he never imagined had solutions.

The day he met Calamine was when everything changed. Having another pony in his life—someone who shared his passions, his hopes, and his failures. Oh, he'd been with mares before—hardly a stallion in Equestria could grow up without having a few adventures.

But nopony had ever stuck with him the way Calamine did. Once they were together, obstacles that seemed insurmountable suddenly fell away.

Their families weren't terribly happy that they weren't with somepony "from the tribe." One good meal together at Hearth's Warming solved that problem, and now their parents were on speaking terms. She didn't have a place of her own, and he was stuck in a cloud-house he'd built himself, one that she couldn't visit—one problem proved the solution to another.

Calamine was a park ranger. When they were together one afternoon sharing a casual lunch, she happened to be listing off locations for winter assignments, trying to match against his list of weather team openings.

"That's everywhere south of Canterlot," she said, furrowing her brow at the list. Calamine couldn't even be upset without looking cute, her light pink mane flopping down over one eye. It happened every time, and she hadn't noticed in almost a year of being together.

"I know you said you didn't like making snow—" she continued. "But we might have to. What's your list look like in the north?"

He flicked it with a wing, careful to keep the motion slow. Wouldn’t want to blow his coffee right off the table. "Tons and tons. Nobody likes snowy winters. It's the same thing every day—"

As he spoke, he watched her deflate, sagging into her chair. Did she think he would leave,just because he didn't like making snow? "What do you have? There has to be some overlap."

She scanned the list. "Never... heard of any of these places. Wintercrest, Willowbrook... Skijoring, Trottingham Nature Reserve. Okay, I know where Trottingham is. That reserve is awful. The whole thing is frozen in winter, and it has no visitors."

But Dusty was hardly even listening. His ears had seized on one particular word, drawing him in like a gyre. "What was the place before that? Did you say... Skijoring?"

She nodded, lowering her glasses closer to her nose. Because everything about her was cute, that even meant little pink flowers on the rims. "Yeah, looks like it. Skijoring is... adjunct naturalist in connection with migrating undulates and resource-sharing of game trails with winter sports arenas. Deer are always interesting, but I'm sure that sounds awful to—"

She trailed off, staring. Sprocket had gone from vague disinterest to panicked intensity, flipping urgently through every page of his spreadsheet. He had to compare against the weather distribution map to be sure—but yes, there it was.

Weather at a resort would require enormous precision—perfect powder, all season long. But who better to appreciate the demands than someone who actually participated in the sport?

"Sweet Celestia, that's amazing! I've wanted to go to Skijoring my whole life! There's usually lines ages long, and the resort there costs more bits than I make in a whole season. But we wouldn't need to pay all that, would we?"

Calamine flipped the page over. "Looks like I'd have a whole cabin to myself, and I'd be able to visit the mountain when I'm not on duty." She looked up. "I've never skied before. Could you teach me?"

It was really just a formality after that. Send a few telegrams, board a few trains, and they were on their way north to Skijoring.

The details could never work out perfectly. Weather duty often meant early mornings or late nights, while her schedule varied with the proclivities of the passing deer. Sometimes she went a week without having to work at all, then he wouldn't see her at all for days at a time.

But it was all worth it, if it meant they finally got to live together, and in one of the most amazing places in the world.

Granted, there were some scuff marks on their perfect first home together—because it was more of a dingy shack. The Equestrian Ranger position had an entire acre of land near the peak of Foal Mountain, less than fifty meters from one of the best runs in the park.

It was also exceedingly close to the most important migration routes for deer and caribou.

But it looked like no proper Equestrian contractor had ever seen the place. Rather, it had been shoddily constructed by whoever had occupied it in the past, then expanded by a dozen different rangers over the years.

It was a true passion project, a cabin built from logs that ponies had probably cut with hoof-tools, then dragged in one at a time. It was more than one room—a sprawling, multistory affair, surrounded by gardens buried in snow like everything else.

Of course they didn't mind—even without electricity and water from a well, they could still make the little house feel like heaven. Whenever they were together, cuddled under a blanket by the fire and watching the snow outside, Dusty didn't care that he had to make a ten minute flight to buy groceries, or that his job was the same every single day all season.

There were so many other benefits—teaching Calamine to ski, and those rare hours when their time off lined up, and they could go out onto the slopes together.

But more often, he flew home from work late into the evening to find that Calamine was out joining some ritual for the local deer tribe, or monitoring the hare population to see how they were weathering the season, or something even more esoteric.

It was too late to go out onto the slopes, and so he ended up inside. That was where the trouble started.

While the cabin might be made with love, expanded by years worth of rangers, its shoddy construction meant it was poorly insulated. It meant that even for a pegasus like himself, it just couldn't quite stay warm enough.

He tried everything; patching every hole in the roof he could find, lighting up all three of the fireplaces with positively wasteful amounts of wood. That helped, but it inevitably meant he'd be trapped in just one room, a single shelter from the biting chill outside.

The eventual solution came by accident one early morning. He had the day off, but Calamine had been on assignment for ages. He decided to surprise her, cleaning the cabin to spotless perfection so she would have somewhere nice to come back to.

Tossed into the corner of their bedroom, he found the solution he never knew he needed: a pair of striped stockings, fallen from Calamine's drawer. It was only when he picked them up in his mouth, intent on putting them back, that he realized just how incredibly soft they were.

These weren't the skin-tight lace worn by fine unicorns in Canterlot—these were thick, probably woven from alpaca or something equally adapted for the mountainous chill.

She always dresses like this when she goes out into a blizzard. Maybe it wasn't just Calamine’s earth pony toughness that facilitated her remarkable endurance. Maybe she knew something he didn't.

Getting them on was a chore in itself, one that would probably have been impossible were it not for their specific tribes. Another pegasus mare would've been too thin and lithe for her stockings to fit—but his flier's proportions and Calamine’s earth stoutness were an almost perfect match.

The back legs were the hardest, requiring him to jam one hoof deep, while reaching back to pull up with his mouth. Not many stallions could've managed, but he did. Ten minutes of struggling later, they were on.

He stared back at his reflection, tan colored fur interrupted by yellow and pink stripes all the way up to his torso. They looked absurd, so silly he almost tossed them off right then.

There was just one problem: he wasn't cold anymore. No jacket he owned could keep his legs from freezing and his hooves from eventually going numb, particularly on the ground floor. But as he stepped out of the bedroom and down the stairs to the kitchen, the coldness just couldn't reach him.

An hour of chores later, and he was still toasty warm.

Calamine’s stockings were the perfect solution to something he never dreamed could be solved. Therein was the problem: how could he possibly get away with it?

Rare indeed was the occasion that required a pony to wear shoes. Even rarer, the stallion who could get away dressing like this.It was a good thing the weather factory kept everything properly insulated, or else he'd be well and truly doomed.

Dusty knew in that exact moment a truth as absolute as Celestia's sun rising in the east, and setting in the west. He knew beyond all argument and doubt.

He could be comfortable when he was at home, despite the worst cold of winter. But Calamine must never, ever know.

This was easy at first. When they were together, he could always rely on their proximity to keep him warm. So long as Calamine’s schedule was clear, he could “borrow” something to wear with ample time to wash it again before she returned home.

But being a ranger meant having a predictable schedule was a rare luxury for Calamine. Sometimes that was an advantage, giving them plenty of time to spend together. Unfortunately for Dusty, it also meant that time off was completely unexpected.

That was how she finally caught him, in the end. Less than a week from the end of the season, when he thought she'd been busy preparing for the spring thaw, she returned early from work one evening and found him in the middle of cooking dinner.

She stepped out of the snow and into the kitchen. Dusty had a wooden spoon in his mouth—and her pink stockings on his hooves.

She froze, mouth hanging open. She hadn't even shut the door, letting a billowing torrent of snow rush in from outside, filling the entryway and stealing what little heat remained.

Even in the stockings, he felt the cold. "H-hey Calamine." He stopped stirring, making his way past her to shut the door. "Good to see you, uh—back from work early? Guess the red foxes were easier to find than you expected?"

"You're, uh—" She struggled to form words. "That explains a few things."

He finally managed to shove the door closed. He retreated from the little pile of snow in the entryway, so he wouldn't get the stockings wet as well as cold.

Why was it so hard to make eye contact with her all the sudden? "I meant to tell you," he finally said. "But you don't know how cold it is in this cabin! I don't have your earth pony strength, and—"

She embraced him, wrapping one leg around his shoulder. Considering she was covered in snow and had been marching through the mountains, that was enough to make his chest feathers puff out in a vain attempt to keep him warm. But it didn't matter.

"Dusty, I don't care if you want to wear socks in the house. They might even look cute on you, if we could find the right color." She let go. "But do you think next time, you could ask?"

She let go, so she could stare at him, looking stern. "I really don't mind sharing. But you're not as sneaky as you think, Dusty. First I thought all those little brown feathers I found in my stockings were just from being together with you. But I kept finding them stuck on the inside.

His blush deepened, wings folding limply to either side. Dusty had been seeing shed feathers everywhere his entire life, that was part of being a pegasus. How had he missed something so obvious?

"Maybe you can help me pick out my own," he finally said, sheepish. "If that's okay."

She laughed, embracing him again. "Course, Dusty! We'll find you something that matches next time. Pink with brown, honestly..."

Survivors of the Fall

In Port Jouster the storms came only once a year. But when they came, they roared.

The ocean's vast strength was not something that a typical weather-team could tame, let alone one that could be fielded by the modest seaside town. So they built high above the waterline, and when the storm warnings came in, ponies ran.

All except for Clear Reason. That was his name now, Clear Reason. A good name, one he'd been given on a day much like this one. The day of the greatest storm that Port Jouster had ever seen.

He faced into the gale, smacking his face into a sheet of rain like molten glass. It battered him back, probably would've lifted him right off the ground. But hooves were steady things, and having four of them gave him four ways of staying grounded. He soaked through in an eyeblink, but didn't go flying.

"Father!" This was different—there weren't supposed to be others about. No other creatures dared to face the storm.

The sky lit up, and midnight turned to noon. He curled back reflexively, strange flexible ears folding back against the surge that would follow. He counted down, even as he heard a second set of hooves hurrying along behind him. The cobblestone was loud enough, or maybe he'd just learned to recognize those particular hooves.

His daughter hadn't always had them either, but she'd adapted to all this far better than he had. She cut through the rain and water, drawing on the same strength that kept him standing. But despite being half his height, she faced into the wind without flinching. No gust would be lifting her off into the roiling blackness.

"Amity, you can't be out here! We can't—"

BOOM! Thunder muffled whatever he might've said next, drowning him in sound. Even expecting it, his ears still ached from the noise.

It lasted for several seconds, far longer than you expected thunder to endure. Assuming you didn't live in Port Jouster. Then you knew.

In that distant explosion of air, Clear Reason thought he could hear another sound. The floor of a metal room buckling beneath him as the aft gravity-lense went up in a flash of light, taking everyone in G-wing with it.

"What are you doing out here?" said Amity. Her voice was so small, yet somehow it cut through the storm. "Father, come back into the shelter. We're making popcorn, remember?"

He sighed. "Go home, Amity. Enjoy popcorn with your uncle. There's somewhere I have to go."

"Now?" she shouted back, indignant. Her bright yellow mane illuminated with another flash, like she'd become lightning herself. He began counting in his head. "You always said the storm isn't safe!"

"I know!" He pushed against her shoulder with a hoof, shoving her back towards their shelter. It was more recently built than the others on their street, with smooth concrete and a steel skeleton instead of mortared stone. Half the hillside town could be ground to dust, and his shelter would still be there. "That's why you have to go!"

A few years ago, that would have been enough. Amity loved him, and that was enough to obey uncritically.

But she was older now. Now she wrapped one foreleg around his. "I'm not leaving you!"

Clear almost went back the way he'd come, right back into the shelter. But he'd been keeping a vigil at these storms for a decade now. Could he just let Jessica go?"

"If you come with me, it will be very cold, and very scary. You must never climb anything, or else weaken your earth pony magic and get swept away. You must stay beside me. Can you do that?"

He shouted each instruction in turn, feeling increasingly irresponsible with each one. But Amity had her cutie mark now, and had for years. By the local definition, she was grown, enough to make her own decisions.

She nodded, and he couldn't tell if that was water running down her face, or tears. "I'm not... I won't leave you."

One last dagger in his gut about the man he ought to be, giving up his ghosts and walking back inside. He didn't.

"Follow me. We have to go all the way to memorial pier."

Thunder echoed overhead—more distant this time, and a little quieter. But it continued for fifteen seconds at least before the wind finally returned.

They walked together through the storm. Clear would've been first, breaking into the wind for his daughter. But then how could he know if she was struggling, or if her magic had begun to fade?

So he walked beside her. Instead, they cut diagonally across the streets.

Port Jouster was already prepared for the downpour, and they'd built their city for the storm. Windows were boarded, and anything that could blow away was thoroughly battened-down.

Even with the incredible durability of an earth pony, Clear kept his eyes alert at every moment. What would they do if a whole house got ripped up, or a storm-surge wave broke over the sea-wall and flooded the town?

But that didn't happen, and soon enough the pier came into view. Well, the entrance did—that much was impossible to miss.

This was one of the few lasting pieces of a life that wasn't. Here, a chunk of twisted silvery metal had torn its way free of the ancient craft, then smashed through the street and the dock all around.

Impregnated nanosteel was tough stuff—once it was in there, even an earth pony crew couldn't pull it loose. So they'd given it a twin on the other side and an arch connecting them, forming the entrance to the Memorial Pier.

The old nanosteel didn't so much as twitch in the storm. Lightning flashed up against it, and its metal duplicate flopped and bucked in the wind, staying standing only thanks to thick bonds between them. Yet they both stood, leading out onto the pier.

"D-do we have to go out there?" Amity yelled. But though the wind was still fierce, this latest peal of thunder came even slower than those before. This year's storm season might not last even a single night.

"No." He gestured through the archway, into the shadow of the dockmaster's hut.

Well, it had been a hut once. After getting blown away each year, it was more like a bunker now, with slitlike windows and a face of cement bricks. It formed a narrow wedge into the wind, and a lathe of space beside it clear of the storm fall.

Clear Reason led his daughter into the shadow of that building, the last few steps on solid ground.

Just ahead of them, he saw the year's damage to the city's prized pier. An entire section of the dock had collapsed furthest out to sea—the old ones. But newer construction was made to be flexible, lifting and sinking again with the pounding surf in storm conditions. Those had held.

Amity settled down on her haunches beside him, then followed his gaze. Lightning still flashed, and thunder still rolled. But in this shelter, only a drizzle of rain found them. So little that his earth pony magic easily overpowered it.

Clear stared out over the water, into a cove that was vast and black. It moved so rapidly to the storm and rain that it was more like the constant motion of a cell under a microscope, not a single sheet of liquid.

Water poured in around him, voices echoed from narrow metal corridors. People stumbled over each other, tied in knots by clothes that no longer fit. Then the water got in, and the fires turned to steam, charring some alive.

"What are you looking for, Dad?" asked a little voice. Quiet now, that they had shelter. Barely louder than the rain. "Do you see something out there?"

He could make himself see it. Let his eyes lose focus just right, and there was the cylindrical body of the Eclipse poking from the water's edge. But though pony hammers couldn't break it, the impact from high orbit sure had.

She hadn't survived her first storm.

Probably for the best. Port Jouster deserved their view. "No," he said. "But I have to make sure I don't, every year."

She remained silent for a long time. Clear looked down, trying to judge the pony's feelings from the subtle adjustments to her animal body. But the crisp moisture in the air overpowered anything he might've learned from her that way. With the rain all around them and both of them completely soaked, they were both huddled, so other clues were gone too.

"What are you looking for?"

He didn't answer for a long time. Lightning flashed, and the thunder was quiet enough now that it was barely audible over the wind. As quickly as it had come, this year's storm vanished from the coast. "Jessica," he said.

"Oh." She clung to him a little tighter. For a few minutes, she said nothing at all. Another light appeared on the horizon, a single line piercing through the clouds. It grew wider by the second, lighting the gray and deep blue storm from behind. "Why now?"

"I shouldn't," he whispered. "But... you came out with me. Guess you deserve it."

She nodded sharply, the only answer he was likely to get.

"We arrived on a night like this," he said. "From somewhere else." The Eclipse seemed to take shape around them as he spoke. Flickering lights present only over fifth junction. Air-recyclers that smelled like sulfur, desperate people in threadbare uniforms.

"Do you remember?"

She nodded weakly. "I do! I remember it being... hard to walk. And there wasn't much to eat. We didn't have Hearth's Warming, because we didn't have enough mashed potatoes."

He chuckled, running one hoof through her mane. It was thoroughly soaked, but he didn't mind. So was he. You didn't have a hard time walking. You just think you would've, because you're so used to being a pony.

"We knew the Eclipse wasn't sound enough to survive a landing. But there was nowhere else to go. Our navigator... your mom... picked a little stretch of land with deep water right beside it for our landing. Right there."

Even through the nanosteel skin, even wrapped tightly in his crash-chair, he felt the impact as they smacked into the ocean. What approach energy still existed peeled away the ship's armor like a grape.

"And we made it out," Amity went on. "And we were drowning. The storm was so bad..."

A thousand desperate people, screams and cries and pleading all blended together in the chilly water. Clear had found only Amity that day, and kept her afloat on his back. Not everyone had the strength. Over half the ponies still alive were earth ponies.

"But Port Jouster saw us," he continued. "They untied their boats, and came to rescue ponies in need. Even though we weren't really ponies, and the wave of our crash had just leveled whole blocks of Port Jouster. They came anyway."

"I know that!" Amity tensed, glaring at him. "I go to school every day, Dad. We learn that like... three times a year."

He chuckled. "Well... you probably don't learn how many people didn't make it out of the Eclipse. We never found their bodies, sweetheart. Part of me wonders if the others on the command deck landed somewhere else, in one of the old escape ships. We didn't think they'd work, but... maybe they did.

"So here I am, every year." He pointed out over the water with one leg, expression distant. "One of these years, there might be an escape pod drifting this way. I want to be there when Jessica climbs out.

"Or..." And he had to admit, that was infinitely more likely. "Maybe one storm, some old part of the ship will break away, revealing where the command crew got trapped. Then I'll... want to be here too. To say goodbye."

Amity nodded once. Now there was no mystery—he knew tears when he saw them. "How long do we watch?"

"Until sunrise," he whispered, wrapping one foreleg around her. "Even if... even if we never see Jessica again, we're watching this for her. Finding a new home for us was all she ever wanted. At times like this, we should enjoy it for her."

The Long Shadow of Tempest

Something big, Twilight said. Capstone project, the last thing she’d ever do at the friendship school. Proof that Silverstream was ready to leave it behind.

Of course there were plenty of other things—but most of that had been with her friends, and they’d soared through with perfect scores and lots of approval from the princess.

But the capstone was something else, her chance to go out into the world and prove that she’d mastered the principles of friendship.

Silverstream’s capstone project leaned precariously over the railing, staring down at Mount Aris as they approached the docks. Even without the Storm King’s armor, Tempest Shadow still managed to look imposing. Probably it was her shattered horn, and the broken silhouette it cast in the afternoon sun.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, hurrying over. “Did you not enjoy the trip?”

“Not particularly,” the unicorn answered, stiffening at her approach. “I’ve done my best to avoid airships, since…” She trailed off awkwardly. “And this place. You’re certain they won’t just be waiting to arrest me?”

If they are, I’m about to be held back. Silverstream hadn’t just stumbled into this plan wildly—it was a matter of careful planning, of communication back and forth over weeks.

“You aren’t going to be arrested. Apparently you were never charged, and Queen Novo is—she’s optimistic about this idea.”

“That makes one of us.” Tempest had brought nothing along with her, not so much as a saddlebag of traveling supplies. But if she thought she was just going to get thrown in prison, why would she do it?”

Silverstream had learned on the trip over that her companion didn’t enjoy much company, so she left her to her solitude for the rest of the docking procedures. Silverstream waited near the railing, greeting dockworkers energetically and flying down to share gossip about her time in Equestria.

Eventually though, the Lavender Spirit was securely in its berth, and the other passengers disembarked. She could hear them whispering about Tempest as they passed, and the mood in the dock began to shift from friendly to suspicious.

So much for the ‘nobody remembers it was you’ theory. Good thing that wasn’t the only plan. Silverstream waited for the unicorn to disembark, but Tempest never appeared. She hurried back up the ramp, and found her lurking near the cabins.

“Did you change your mind about coming?” she asked, voice bleak. That probably would just mean she had to start over. But it also meant that Tempest would never get the closure she deserved.

“No.” Tempest turned back, shaking out her mane. Instead of military short, now it was long and wild, though there was no mistaking her for anyone else. “I just needed a moment to steel myself. This is the reckoning I deserve. Not all the harm I’ve ever caused can be undone. But at least I tried. I’m ready for my judgement.”

Silverstream led her back the way they’d come, only briefly interrupted while she yelled to the crew to put the ramp back.

“This isn’t about judgement,” Silverstream said again. “Look down there. No guards, no soldiers. You’re just a visiting pony, like so many others.”

She looked, skepticism obvious on her face. But Silverstream was right. At least so far, there were no soldiers. There didn’t appear to be very many other creatures either, just a single stallion wearing a courtly vest. While everyone else fled from around them, he took one look at Tempest and headed straight for them.

Where was the maintenance crew? Boxes of cargo were abandoned by the open hold, and Silverstream couldn’t see even one of them emerging from within. “I see you made the trip safely,” said the stallion, nodding politely to her. “And your companion… this is her? The one who brought such terror to Mount Aris?”

Silverstream winced. “She’s past that now. Tempest is here to apologize for what she did. There’s no reason a creature should live their whole life burdened by their past, right? Gotta… move on sooner or later.”

“Right.” His tone remained entirely flat as he said it. “Well, I’m here to offer judicial notice to Tempest here. Her Majesty’s court expects and requires your appearance in three day’s time. Having set hoof on Mount Aris, you are subject to our jurisdiction and will be treated as a fleeing convict should you attempt to depart before that time.”

Tempest nodded, looking grimly satisfied. “I understand. You have my word that I will not flee your pitiful—your island.”

He turned to Silverstream. “This… visitor is your responsibility. Mount Aris has endured enough hardship over the last decade. If you brought more of it here, endangering the lives of birds everywhere—you will be held responsible as well.”

Then he turned, never offering so much as a name before he stalked back up the mountain. He slipped between a pair of cliffside warehouses, and vanished from sight.

“As I said,” Tempest began. “I don’t blame you for it, child. I know you haven’t cajoled me here to confront this. It’s right for me to face their justice after all I did to you.”

“Three days.” Silverstream took off, hovering there beside her and counting them out on her claws. “We can do a lot in three days! We should find some birds, start apologizing!”

They were already emerging, poking heads out of stalls and behind buildings. Maybe the appearance of an official creature who didn’t arrest her was the evidence they needed not to freak out.

Except then Tempest started laughing, and creatures scattered all over again. Silverstream could hear why—Tempest’s voice was cruel and her tone burning with pain. “Did you honestly think this would be a matter of bringing me here to… apologize?”

She advanced on Silverstream, a few faint sparks issuing from her horn. Silverstream saw no spells, and she didn’t expect any. But still, she quivered. “Kinda. Isn’t that how you resolve friendship problems? If someone makes a mistake, you say sorry and move on. That’s how it’s supposed to work.”

She laughed again, even louder this time. “You’re an adorably innocent creature, Silverstream. Product of the ponies you’ve been living with. The real world is a different place. Creatures don’t simply forgive because you ask them to.” She advanced away from the docks, into the packed market. Whispers spread around them, and more creatures fled. Though not all of them did. Unlike the dock, the birds manning their stalls didn’t leave them behind.

“I’m the reason your lives were put on hold, Silverstream. I’m the reason the Storm King knew to send soldiers here. I never hurt a bird directly, but I might as well have. My presence destroyed your way of life.”

It had been a very long time since Silverstream had thought about it. She didn’t really want to bring back any of those memories. But just a few words from Tempest were enough.

Buildings burned, soldiers fought out in the streets, while the citizens of Mount Aris flooded up the steps to the palace. The Storm King’s army let them go, thinking they’d been baited into a trap. High above, his fleet bombarded the castle’s defenses. It was only a matter of time.

Silverstream was huddled there with her family, far smaller than. But she could still remember the wounded huddled against the wall. Still remember the terror she felt that the soldiers would soon come, and drag her off to a distant mine.

Tempest Shadow stomped one hoof in front of her, sharp enough to startle her from her daze. “You see what I mean? I’ve affected all of you, even the one who wants to see me forgiven. How likely do you think it is creatures will let all that go?”

Silverstream didn’t have an answer for a long moment. She was right, obviously. The damage done was more than just a few broken windows and scared ponies.

“So we can’t just say sorry,” she declared, hurrying to catch up. “That doesn’t mean we have to give up! We can’t give up, not now.”

Tempest spun on her so fast she raised both her wings defensively, expecting an attack. None came. “Alright, Silverstream. What do you propose?”

She thought back to her lessons, far better than being trapped in the nightmares the Storm King had brought to this place not too long ago. “We just need to, uh… figure out how to make it right! Just telling birds you feel bad about what you did won’t be enough. But maybe if we find some of the things you broke, and fix it, maybe that would help?”

Tempest looked like she might be about to start laughing all over again, but she caught herself. “That is—that is why I’m here, to fix the damage I caused. I thought it would be with justice on my head, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t prefer not to rot in one of your prisons for the rest of my life.”

“So we need to find someone… willing to let you help,” Silverstream said. “That shouldn’t be hard!”

It was. The Storm King’s armies had rampaged over Mount Aris, beginning at the base of the mountain where they landed and devastating the city’s tiered heights. Much of that old infrastructure was still broken, along with many homes along the way. Anywhere creatures had hid or tried to fight, the Storm King had leveled.

Many were never rebuilt, though the situation wasn’t so grim as it might seem at first. These families weren’t gone, many of them had just chosen not to leave the water when the Storm King was finally defeated.

She tried to think of places a powerful unicorn could help, but they didn’t want her. The ironworks wouldn’t let her anywhere near it, since the weapons made there were too important for a known enemy to see. The broken hospital wouldn’t let her join, not after she failed to demonstrate a basic mending spell.

It was her horn, obviously—the break had somehow made her a powerful fighter, but robbed her of her precision.

Their first day ended in defeat. When the second dawned, she expected Tempest to want to give up, but the unicorn was up, ready to return to their heartbreaking work.

“Your endeavor is noble,” Tempest said, as they sat in the shadow of a ruined monastery to eat their meager lunch. “Taking me from place to place to offer my services. None of them want it, but can you blame them? I’m the invader. Perhaps those beneath the waves might’ve forgiven me, content in their new lives. But all these birds came back. They probably didn’t want to leave.”

“Yeah.” Silverstream stared glumly down at her sandwich. She didn’t really have an appetite anymore. It wasn’t even about her grades—at this point, a pony’s future was on the line.

“Tempest Shadow,” said a voice from behind them, rounding the monastery so fast that they hardly had a chance to react.

Silverstream dropped into an awkward bow. “Skystar, I didn’t know you were on the surface today!”

She waved a dismissive wing. “None of that, Silverstream. Come on, we’re cousins. I just wanted to see if it was true.”

Tempest hadn’t bowed, only lowering her head as Skystar approached. They locked eyes, and for one terrible moment, Silverstream thought she might attack again.

But she didn’t. “I’m not here to threaten your mountain, Princess Skystar. I’ve done it enough harm over the years. But I won’t be able to bury the past until I fix what I’ve broken.”

“So I hear.” Skystar paced past her, expression an unreadable mask. “It’s noble of you to try and make things right. Guess it hasn’t been working out.”

“Not really,” Tempest admitted. “I can’t blame the hippogriffs for not wanting to forgive me. I wouldn’t forgive me, if I’d led an army to destroy my home.”

Skystar’s face twisted again, apparently considering. Finally she stuck out a claw. “You still looking for something you could do? I have an idea. It’ll be hard work, but… maybe it will help birds see you’ve changed.”

“Yes,” Tempest said, without hesitation. “I don’t fear difficulty.”

“Not even gonna ask?” The princess raised an eyebrow. “It could be something really awful!”

Tempest shrugged. “Can’t be as bad as I deserve.”

Skystar turned, pointing up the mountain at the distant, ruined shape of the palace. “We’ve been trying to fix the castle ever since it… well, since the attack. Huge parts of it are still ruined, though.”

“That sounds perfect!” Silverstream barely restrained her excitement. “That’s like… everyone will see you working up there, Tempest! And they’ll know the princess invited you!”

“We all need to put the past behind us,” Skystar said. “Let’s show the creatures of Mount Aris it’s time to forgive.”

Finding Yourself

Arthur dragged himself through the forest, with all the coordination of a one-legged penguin. Some part of him wanted to find a sturdy tree, curl up, and wait to die—but that was a small part. He’d known that the moment he stepped through the many-angled door that almost anything could be on the other side.

They won’t find me here. At least there’s some consolation to all this. Suck a dick, Agular. Send the Cabal after me, see how much good it does.

Of course, some part of him suspected Hierophant Agular and the rest of Enlightened Boston would probably approve of this fate. It was only proper that a wizard who had broken the Pax Arcanum should be reduced to an animal for the rest of his days.

Arthur had four hooves now, practically innate lumps that at once were far too sensitive to the little rocks and pebbles under them, and simultaneously too clumsy for somatic casting. Even if he had brought any power—and he hadn’t—he wouldn’t have any way to use it.

He was a horse, at least the best he could figure. A horse that was yellow and orange and somehow different than any horse he’d seen before. The eyes were too large, his limbs too flexible.

This has to be what passes for intelligent life here, right? My safeties wouldn’t fail me now.

It was the only measure he’d been able to take, a gamble that had apparently paid off. The many-angled door opened into an infinity of realms, each one only a shade different than the last. But a single variation in the construction of an important amino acid could guarantee death by starvation, or something different about the atmosphere might mean swift suffocation.

Birds sung overhead, and the warmth of the sun felt good on his bare back. No objects could survive the passage, or else he might’ve been able to prepare some kind of escape from this place.

I wonder what horses are like here. Their language can’t be that hard to learn. They’re basically animals.

And now you’re one of them, Arthur. Would the Cabal’s justice have been harsher than giving up the Art? Harsher than eating grass?

He could still feel his sweaty hands as he shuffled the dials and knobs at random, thoroughly scrambling the delicate Worldgate until he was certain it could correspond to no known destination. Most of the Book of Worlds contained only nightmares. He was better off playing the odds.

His eyes caught the first sign of life in the distance—structures! Adorable wooden constructions with thatched roofs and slightly pinkish glass, rising above the trees. Maybe the natives weren’t as primitive as he thought!

He sped up, and without meaning to his body broke into a trot, legs moving entirely on their own. Transformation was always that way—the brain came pre-configured with how to operate whatever hardware, so long as your conscious mind didn’t get in the way. Some Willworkers even got lost in the casting, forgetting themselves to strange bodies.

That’s what I am now. Arthur Harrison is dead. Long live… horse.

He stumbled abruptly over a little rim of rocks, then onto a proper trail of graded soil, right through the woods. Probably a walking path these strange creatures used. At least it would make the rest of his trip quick and easy.

A few minutes later and he finally emerged from the woods, and was suddenly on the edge of a town.

Arthur had seen more of the realms than any other Willworker he knew—that was the problem. His fellows didn’t appreciate his erosion of Boston’s protective barriers, and the occasional fatality when something he called got loose.

Even still, he was momentarily stunned, staring openly at the town before him.

It wasn’t the turn-of-the-century construction that stunned him, though it certainly had its fair share of charm. It was the creatures.

They should’ve seemed alien, certainly as animal as he felt. They were horses, just as he’d known they would be. Like him, their bodies were only proximally similar to the true animal of Earth, with vibrant colors and strange marks on their flanks. Some went even further, with actual feathery wings on their backs, or horns emerging from their heads like the beasts that had been hunted to extinction long ago in his own world.

If the Cabal knew I’d discovered this, they might be more willing to forgive. When was the last time anyone had actual unicorn horn as a reagent?

He reached up reflexively with one leg, feeling his forehead. Only flat, furred flesh. Should I be relieved, or disappointed?

“Morning, sir!” said a horse, soft yellow with a bright red mane. She wore a strange harness on her back, with a clip for her basket. Judging by the tools inside, she was some kind of gardener. “How was Whitetail? Are the wildflowers blooming yet?”

He thought back, with the same keen memory he’d used to find his own reagents when preparing for complex spells. “Poppy and honeysuckle,” he answered reflexively. “Some sunflowers as well, if you’re far away from the trail.”

“Oh, really?” The horse grinned back at him, bright enough that his face grew hot. “That’s wonderful! Thanks!” She glanced briefly at his flank, expression turning to confusion. “I wish I didn’t have to admit this, but I don’t know your name. Are you new in Ponyville?”

He twisted to the side, following her eyes. There was a symbol there, just like the flower on her body. A single rune, the squared circle that was the basis of any Worldgate, the fur somehow silver instead of yellow.

Ponyville? You’re kidding me. “Yes,” he answered. “I’m, uh… well, you could say I’m looking for a fresh start. It looks like a charming little town.”

“Absolutely!” She reached out, and this time entirely human instinct told him what to do. He extended one of his stupid hooves, and touched hers to shake. “I’m Roseluck.”

“Gate,” he said, not skipping a beat. A wizard knew well how unwise it was to give away one’s real name. Though probably he should’ve picked something that sounded real…

“Well, Gate, you should stop by my stall in a few hours. If you’re right about those flowers, maybe we could do lunch together. Nothing’s tastier than crisp honeysuckle on a spring day like today.”

His face grew hotter, and he nodded without thinking. “I’ll do that.”

And just like that she was off, striding confidently into the woods, with her tail swaying behind her.

Oh god we’re both naked. And there are a dozen other animals all around us and most of them are naked too.

Arthur took a deep breath, banishing the wave of alien emotion. He’d been here less than an hour, and already he thought one of the natives was a solid 8.5 out of 10.

A few seconds of focused breathing, and he felt calm again. He picked a dirt street at random, and started walking.

Think, stupid. What do you know so far?

They spoke English, or something so similar that even physical gestures translated. They lived in houses, though he couldn’t see any sign of asphalt roads or electrical infrastructure. No satellite dishes or even telephone wires. Though if he listened, he could just about make out the rumble of heavy machinery that he guessed to be a train, passing not too far away.

Industrial, English-speaking, and maybe magical. I got lucky on this one. And sexy, but that was the stupid brain this body had come with. If only he had any of his power left, he could probably have suppressed those instincts.

The horses—ponies, maybe—were generally shorter than he was, though a few other males approached him in size. Much more importantly, they were also polite. He hadn’t made it a block before he got another dozen friendly greetings. He resisted conversation with anyone else, focused on his surroundings.

I need to see if they have an economy. His colleagues in the Cabal would have another round of hysterical laughter if they knew he’d found his way into a mundane job again. But if that meant staying alive, he’d take it.

There was one surefire way to find the place most likely to employ him: follow the traffic. There was unmistakably a flow of creatures towards one particular side of town. He joined the crowd, and soon saw what was attracting everyone’s attention.

A new building was going up, with a crowd of adorable construction workers with little helmets. There was no sign of heavy machinery here, and from what he could see their raw materials were arriving on horsedrawn carts.

But that wasn’t what had attracted the crowd. The builders seemed to know what they were doing, even if most of them would’ve looked at home in a petting zoo.

The crowd had come to gawk at something that shouldn’t be here. They were staring at him.

For several seconds he was one of them, mouth agape as his eyes struggled to comprehend something that couldn’t, shouldn’t be here.

He stood taller than every other creature, towering so high that Arthur could see him over the crowd. He wore a set of ill-fitting slacks and a sleeveless vest in dark fabric, that looked like it had been stitched together in a terrible hurry.

“Great job, Rafter,” he said, in Arthur’s voice. It sounded strangely deep to his ears, probably a product of the human’s size. “We’ll have a proper house put together in no time.”

“Sure thing, Arthur,” answered one of the ponies—one wearing a reflective vest and carrying a clipboard. Well—not carrying, the clipboard floated beside her in the air. Was her horn glowing, or was that Arthur’s imagination? Levitation in broad daylight? “Princess Twilight said we needed to make it exactly how you asked. You say something if our work doesn’t look right.”

The human version of him reached backward, checking the height of the front door. “No more stooping everywhere. I couldn’t be happier.”

Arthur made his way to the front of the crowd, no longer caring about being polite. He shifted and shoved his way through, until he’d made it to the little fence. It wasn’t even at chest level, but the tiny wooden “no trespassing” sign had kept back all the gawkers.

It did nothing to stop him now. He climbed over it, gritting his teeth as a hindleg caught, and he ripped out one of the stakes.

He heard creatures gasp behind him, horrified by such a blatant disregard for the rules.

“Pony, stop!” cried another construction worker. “This is a hard hat area! It’s not safe!”

He ignored him, marching right up towards his doppelganger.

Well, maybe not quite anymore. The human was twice his height, and quite a bit more suntanned than Arthur had ever been. How long had he been here?

“Arthur Harrison,” he said, glaring right up at him with naked envy. “How the Arcana are you still human?”

Before, the human had barely seemed to see him, even when he crossed into the construction site. But now he turned, eyes growing wide.

“How do you know that name?” he asked, dropping onto one knee. “Wait… those eyes…”

“I’m you, dumbass,” he countered, retreating from the human’s outstretched hand. “The you who didn’t want to get melted by acid, or fried in ultraviolet light, or… a thousand other awful deaths.”

“Is this pony bothering you?” Rafter asked, glaring at him now. “I should get him off the site before we do anything.”

But now the human Arthur was ignoring her too. “You sound just like…” He rose, grinning broadly. “You’re the me that went for the shapechange, aren’t you? Enough realms… you’d be out there somewhere.”

“Of course I did!” he roared, loud enough that Rafter retreated. For all her confidence, she didn’t seem accustomed to so much anger. “I like being alive! Did you really just… gamble your life away on a chance that the world you’d enter would be safe?”

Arthur grinned down at him, spreading his arms wide. “It worked, didn’t it? We’re both here, but only one of us is adorable.”

Getting Even

Four minutes until detonation.

Mossy could do nothing about the timer, just as she could do nothing about a great deal of things in her life. But in this case, it was a decision she'd made—either she would succeed in this mission, or they wouldn't bring her in alive. There would be no switching off the bomb.

Before her was the municipal adjunct relay—a structure so vast and complex that she could imagine no creature from Equestria building it. And indeed, none had.

A construction of vast metal spires stretched up into the sky, trailing from several times thicker than the largest structure here in Manehattan to something that looked finer than a hair.

She didn't look like much with the crowd of other creatures thronging around her. Most were other slaves, wearing very little beyond threadbare clothes and occasional bags of whatever gear they needed to accomplish their dreary work.

Hold on a little longer, everypony. Manehattan's day has come.

Mossy had done everything she could to keep from being noticeable—she'd rubbed grease into her mane, tucked her tail into her jacket, and covered up her hooves. Deer weren't uncommon down in Equestria anymore, not since the Day of Shattered Skies—but they were rare enough to attract a second glance. Those precious seconds might be just enough to keep a watchful sentry from noticing the unusual energy-density of the pack she carried.

Of course, such a critically-important relay wasn't left completely undefended, waiting for a creature with nothing to sabotage the grind of Equestria's second-largest city. Those of Elsewhere relied on secrecy to keep their relay station working.

Unfortunately for them, Mossy's friend Galae had pierced their secure network, and spilled its guts all over her private terminal. She knew.

Yet even disguised as an insignificant installation, the facility was not unguarded. Those of Elsewhere had loyalist servants now—unicorns in black uniforms with mirrored visors, and strange weapons in the air beside them at all times. Mossy passed between several, practically holding her breath with each step.

That would do nothing to keep her hidden, of course. But she had to do something. She filed into the back of the line, rocking nervously back and forth as she followed a few of the local slave-workers in their gray uniforms.

She had an outer jumpsuit that matched theirs almost exactly, though there were a few minor differences. She covered her face with a dark bandanna, keeping her ears tucked into a cap. With the thick layer of smog settling on Manehattan like an oppressive blanket, she wasn't the only one to make subtle adaptations.

Three minutes until detonation.

"Keep your head down, sweetheart," said a voice from beside her. Still Water wasn't there—the space beyond a line of dark cones was empty other than the watching Loyalists. But that didn't make his voice any less real. "They adore conformity. Simply give them what they want, and they will let us live in peace."

Like so many other creatures, she had believed that, for a while. Fighting was hard, and victories were few. Maybe the smart creatures were the ones who just kept their heads down and mouths shut.

I tried your way, Dad. Now I'm trying my way.

She was only one deer, with only a handful of friends. Mossy couldn't change the whole world on her own. But she could sure as buck not curl up and wait for someone else to do it.

She continued forward, head down and eyes looking anywhere else. She almost made it to the relay entrance before the sirens started.

Spotlights switched on, a pair of harsh white blasts from either side of the barren courtyard. They panned across a terrified crowd, towards her.

There were only a few steps more to the building walls. Mossy bolted, galloping ahead as quickly as her hooves could carry her. A security guard in thin plastic armor stepped up to block her path, spreading himself sideways across the entrance. But this was a pegasus, with gnarled wings emerging from his back.

She kicked at his right foreleg, sending him tumbling onto the floor. In that same moment she continued over him, leaping into the building proper.

Two minutes until detonation.

There was nothing particularly impressive inside, just a blank gray elevator, and utility doors leading off to either side. Mossy took a single second to decide, then dashed to the left. Even that was long enough for the glass behind her to shatter, spraying into the room.

Creatures fled screaming. Hopefully the Loyalists wouldn't kill too many of their own slaves tonight.

She made it to the elevator, scattering more slaves before ramming her shoulder straight into the side of another security guard. His baton smacked against her side a few times, but futilely. He fell, and she was only bruised.

Mossy smacked her hoof against the "basement" button, then pressed the string of several symbols that made for a control override.

The doors slammed closed, right into the face of a dozen charging Loyalist guards.

While the elevator descended, Mossy stripped off the jumpsuit, tearing off the clothes and shaking it off her hooves. The alarms blaring through the building around her meant an end to stealth, no matter how careful she was. She wore saddlebags underneath, wrapped tight to her body. On the left side was the bomb, still counting down.

She reached into the right, yanking a disruptor into her mouth. The weapon had been mostly disassembled, with its genetic key overridden with a mess of gnarled circuits covered in epoxy. It smelled like fire between her lips, and felt like trying to hold lightning. But it didn't blow up.

As the elevator came to a stop, she smacked herself against the side wall, pressing as flat as she could. Sure enough, a few soldiers came rushing into the opening, firing into the place she'd been standing moments before.

They barely even twitched as she blasted them with the disruptor, turning Loyalists into thoroughly scorched meat.

Then she stepped out, and turned to aim the disruptor upward at the elevator’s roof. Metal turned to liquid, raining down. More importantly, the elevator jolted another meter, smacking against the floor of the shaft. Nopony else would be taking the express way down.

One minute left.

Finally, Mossy's target stood before her. The Omicron Anchor drove deep into the earth, strange fibers of the black alien weave that no creature in Equestria could spin. Standing beside it, she felt the constant hum of energy passing through it, spreading down into the huge contact before her.

There were other, redundant contacts spread throughout the city. Mossy's work here would not completely cripple Those of Elsewhere in Manehattan. But it would be a spark. Others would have to spread the flame.

Thirty seconds until detonation.

Hooftsteps pounded in the hallway behind her, a flood now. The longer she waited, the thicker resistance would become. She couldn't fail when she was so close.

She clambered up beside the weight, as high as she could go. Then she heaved, tossing the satchel off her shoulders and onto the Omicron Anchor.

The leather bag began to char and blacken on contact, as energy vaster than that required to fly an aircraft passed through it. A cloud of thick smoke rose from around it, choking the air in front of her.

Yet the explosive was made of sterner stuff. As the bag burned away, she could see its block outline appear from within the ash, crowned by a single blinking display.

Fifteen seconds until detonation.

Mossy retreated, leaping backwards off the maintenance walkway, then down beside a dozen flashing control-panels. Too bad the Loyalists who worked down here had evacuated. She would've loved to give them an up-close and personal view of the detonation.

"She's down here!" yelled a voice from the open doorway, gesturing in her direction. "This way!"

The detonator began to beep audibly, loud enough that she could hear it even from across the room.

Mossy moved to duck, but those motions came sluggishly. She heaved herself sideways behind a heavy steel control panel, maybe a dozen meters back from the blast.

A green-furred figure appeared beside the Omicron Anchor, a towering stag dressed in threadbare slave-clothing.

"Mossy, no!" He reached towards her, and she reached back, trying to drag him away.

She was too slow this time, too.

An explosion shook the floor under her hooves, blasting her back against the wall in a sudden flash of light and deafening sound. She smashed up against a desk, collapsing sideways behind it as flames licked the air above her. Her foreleg burned, though only for an instant before the agony of it faded.

For the city of Manehattan, the pain had only just begun. The passage to her left collapsed in a shower of rock, burying the soldiers massing near the entrance with muffled screams of protest.

She could see nothing directly, hear nothing other than the ring of the explosives in her ears. Yet blinded and deafened as she was, Mossy saw a figure approach. He dodged chunks of rubble as they fell from the ceiling, stepping over melted and burning control panels.

Finally the stag stopped over her. His expression was obscured by the smoke, so she couldn't tell for sure. But his shoulders weren't slumped this time—he wasn’t bowing to Those of Elsewhere anymore.

Through the serenade of alarms and emergency notifications, Mossy heard his voice, as clear as any memory—even if the words were new. "You did it, Moss. I'm proud of you."

Then he was gone, vanished into the fire and the flames.

Mossy wasn't sure how long she lay there in the ash and smoke, surrounded by flashing lights and occasional bursts of magical discharge. Laying limp on the floor probably saved her from the smoke, and maybe sweeps by Loyalist marines, determined to capture the one who defied Those of Elsewhere so violently and successfully.

But eventually, the sirens stopped sounding—the fires went out, and the constant flash of emergency lights became a dull glow of red pointing to a secondary exit.

Then she heard a voice—somepony familiar and real, and just beside her. Unlike her father's memory, Galae's voice was distorted and washed out. Probably from those blown-out eardrums.

"Flew a little close to the sun, Mossy? Looks like you got burned."

She twitched, turning just her head towards the speaker. Even that hurt, with aches that traveled along her spine, down to where her legs had smacked up against the floor. But her foreleg was still numb. That wasn't good.

"Y-yeah," she squeaked. "H-how... how are you down here? Didn't expect a rescue."

"Turns out the Sol Confederacy has a little more on their hooves now that a certain doe kicked them in the balls. Security drones went down all over Manehattan, protection fields aren't working, observation posts are black... it's a party out there."

She tried to sit up. She made it a few inches, but could practically feel herself coming apart with every inch. She slumped back onto the floor. "Am I invited?"

She looked up at Galae. He was wearing a stolen loyalist uniform, though he'd removed the helmet. A heavy satchel of tools hung beside him, instead of the usual 'innocent beating stick' that came standard issue with these guys.

"We'll see," he said. "Got some good news and bad news on that front. Which do you want first?"

She answered with a muffled groan, flopping onto her back and closing her eyes. The effort of sitting up was too much for her. It was probably some kind of miracle she hadn't burned to death already.

"Okay, good news. Without security, the Underground got our hooves on some sweet implants. Bad news. You're gonna need at least two."

He levitated something towards her—a bright blue canister, with an oversized mouthpiece on the end and alien symbols on its back.

"Deep breath. Gotta keep you stable until we get there."

She glanced to the side, expecting to find a ghostly deer beside her. Maybe her father would tell her that she should be strong enough without alien technology. She could make it on her own.

There was no ghost, no memory. Just a control-room full of melted plastic and scorched metal.

She reached out with her good foreleg, took the mask, and pulled it over her mouth. Then she took a breath, and sweet oblivion finally washed the pain away.

For now.

Heart of Gold

Midnight Lilly stalked back and forth down the vault, her hoofsteps growing increasingly agitated. She'd passed this way at least a half-dozen times by now, and with each time her anxiety grew.

The ponies of Celestia’s Imperial Monastery were some of the densest, most naïve creatures she'd encountered in her brief, troubled life. But even they had some sense of security, or else there would be no treasures left to steal.

After today, there would be far fewer.

She caught her stray reflection in a bit of polished glass, with six symbols arranged around the outside. She recognized the carvings in the brass from childhood religious instruction—those were the Elements of Harmony, the creatures whose ancient virtue had saved the land from many dangers, and who had ascended as saints when their time in Equestria was up. Obvious horseapples, but at least the mirror was clear, and the rim looked like real gold. She stared back at herself in the gloom for a second, at the mismatched silver and pink.

She wasn’t much of a sight, her body lean from missing too many meals. An earth pony could survive on grass if she had to, and Midnight Lilly had. But doing that for too long made you look half-starved.

After today, Midnight wouldn’t have to taste grass ever again. "Star Lilly, please tell me you're almost done," she hissed. "We're out of time."

At the other end of the vault, her sister crouched over a velvet pouch, her pink eye obscured by a jeweler’s glass. She squinted down at a pile of gemstones, which she'd separated into two piles. "Almost! Most of these gems are glass. Either they've dealt with thieves before, or they don't have much worth stealing."

"They're the church, of course they do."Midnight took the gold mirror under one leg, joining her sister by her gemstones. "Just shove them all in and let's go. Sort the glass later."

Star Lilly sighed, then shoved the entire contents into a padded black bag. Midnight stopped beside her, flicking her satchel open. "Go on. In here. Tuck this mirror in too, in case they're all glass."

Star did so, looking indignant. "Several of them aren't, I already checked! Are you saying you don't trust me?"

Midnight patted her on the shoulder, placating. "Of course not, Star. You know what you're looking at. I'm not sure these monks do when they accept—"

Through the cracks in an old wooden door, Midnight saw somepony approaching—white robes trimmed with gold. One of the monks then, not a guard. She twisted to the side, smacking the satchel closed, and rotating it around. "Time's up."

The door opened slowly, clattering against the far wall. The pony standing there wasn't quite her height—a male unicorn, but one greatly shriveled with age, his face a mess of wrinkles through the hood.

He adjusted a pair of slim spectacles in his magic, staring weakly down at the open vault.

Midnight reached him in a flash, drawing her dagger from where she kept it hidden behind a foreleg. She pointed it directly at his throat, where even his old eyes couldn't mistake it. "Don't say a word, friend. I don't want to hurt anypony today, understand?"

He eyed the dagger, then her, his whole body shaking with sudden fear. He nodded.

"Walk inside," she ordered, gesturing past her sister. "Stand by the window. Don't make a sound. Got it?"

The old unicorn hurried to obey, backing as far away from her as he could. "You shouldn’t be here..." he whispered, as soon as she was out of easy reach. Of course Midnight could've still stabbed him, but she didn't. She had no intention of turning into a murderer. Maybe creatures like Cogset and his gang. But not helpless old monks. "Whatever you need, Celestia provides. You don't have to steal from us."

"We didn't want to," Star whispered, hooves on the ground. "But you had the worst security. We're sorry—"

"Sshh," Midnight whispered, backing through the vault's exit. "Just stay quiet until we're gone, and you don't get hurt. We just want the gemstones, not your life."

They backed through the door, and Midnight shut it quietly. Of course it didn't lock from the outside, so there was no way to trap him in there. We have about a minute before he decides to turn into a hero.

"Now we get out, quickly," she whispered, pointing down the hall. This was the easy part of the plan, just make it out of the monastery and vanish into the night.

Granted, nothing had gone to plan so far. The sun was already up outside, meaning the grounds were full of monks performing their sun-salutation. We can't just run out of the building with a suspicious bag and expect nopony to care.

The hall took them past several other storage rooms, each less important than the vault they had just left. Star glanced over her shoulder, staring at the locked door. "Are you sure about this, Midnight? We're stealing from Celestia's own church."

The alarm-bell started blaring. Midnight didn't know why—maybe the unicorn had teleported himself downstairs. Maybe somepony had noticed the two guards still asleep at their post, knocked out with the drugs she slipped into their wine. Whatever the reason, Midnight didn't even stop to think. Her eyes searched desperately for somewhere to hide—and she found it, an open linen-closet, with so many robes hanging inside that she couldn't even see to the window.

She had to shove her sister in, who was frozen motionless by the sound. She caught the handle in her mouth, pulling it closed behind them. Outside, many shouting voices joined together. They sounded angry, enough that she could dismiss any hope this was some routine drill.

"How's it look?" Midnight asked. Her sister had found her way to the window, and peeked through the shutters out at the world outside.

She whimpered. "Busy. Lots of ponies out there. Hoplites, guardsponies... they seem really upset."

Midnight swore under her breath, stomping one hoof against the wooden floor. Where had they gone wrong? Maybe sparing the monk's life was too generous. She should've just stuck him with the dagger and hurried out. Someone always has to die.

"I think they're coming inside," Star went on. "All the apprentices too, like they're gonna search the building. What do we do?"

Her sister turned back, nearly-identical eyes meeting hers. The other earth pony was already completely in over her head with a robbery this big. The pressure was all on Midnight to get her out of it.

Her eyes settled on one of the many sets of robes hanging around them. She posed in front of it, checking the sleeves against her own legs. That one wasn't a good match, but a little further down the rack...

"Here." She yanked it down with her mouth, tossing it to her sister, then grabbed the one next to it. "Put this on, quickly." There were ponies on the stairs now, stomping through the building. She didn't hear the metal armor of hoplites yet, but it was only a matter of time. Celestia's own monastery could call on powerful warriors to defend it, if the need arose.

Midnight didn't remove the satchel, but shrugged the robe on over her head. It was stiff from the laundry, and smelled like several other ponies had worn it before her over the years. Even so, the cloth was finer than anything she'd ever owned. The church had so many bits. And none of the ponies who dress like this have to live with debts they can't pay back, with loan sharks ready to break them if they miss a payment.

The robe fit better than she expected, settling smoothly onto her shoulders. She'd seen enough monks in her life to know how to fasten the golden clasps on her neck, and how to wear the headdress over her mane. A few more seconds, and that was in place.

Her sister was having a little more trouble. Midnight turned, helping her get her forelegs into the sleeves. "I don't know if this is gonna work, Midnight. Nopony will think we belong here."

"Dunno why you'd say that," she shot back. "We're monks of Celestia’s order. Hallowed is the sun and sacred are her sunrises... praise to the Elements of Harmony and their... harmonizing."

Star giggled—cut short by the sound of doors banging open from the far end of the hall. Of course the guards came up the other stairs, those near the monastery’s entrance. The whole plan was to use the back stairs to get out. But how could they do that now?

Another set of doors banged open, this one much closer. If they were gonna pull this off, they had to move quickly.

Midnight took a laundry-bag off the ground, one overflowing with foul-smelling robes. She tossed it onto the floor in front of her sister, then dragged over another for herself. "Hood up," she whispered. "When they open the door, act terrified. We're apprentices who almost got killed by the dangerous thieves, so we hid. Got it?"

She nodded hastily, pulling the hood over her face. "You th-think that will work?"

Depends on who opens that door. The monastery was huge, with hundreds of different monks scattered across its many buildings. Some of them had to know their own ponies well enough to recognize a fraud. "It'll be fine."

Another second later, the doors banged open. A pair of hoplites stood in the doorway, heavy metal armor covering them from head to hoof. Steam hissed from the large tank in back when they moved, and gears spun rapidly from the seams moving them. Both pointed spears through the doorway—then lowered them.

"Evacuation order," said one, his voice distorted by the helmet. "Intruders in the monastery. Get out."

Maybe it was the obscuring bag of laundry—maybe the robes. Whatever the reason, she nodded hastily, then followed where the soldier pointed, to the back stairs.

Her sister cantered after her, hurrying along. There was no need to act like a pair of terrified young mares, when they were under the watchful eyes of a pair of armored hoplites. They scampered away down the stairs, while the guards continued their fruitless search.

Midnight already had this part memorized from the map. She pulled her sister to one side, away from the normal hallway out and into the memorial.

Every monastery had them, six shrines to each of the elements, for those who didn't want to worship the sun herself. Huge mirrors ran along the room, reflecting light from a single skylight above until it filled the whole space. Almost the full light of day, now.

"This way." She urged her sister towards the back, to a heavy wooden door in a corner. "Tunnel should take us all the way out."

Her sister wasn't listening. Somehow, Star had frozen in front of a mirror, beside a modest statue to the Element of Honesty.

"We don't have time for this." She stomped over, wrapped one hoof around her sister's shoulder—then stopped.

There was nothing magic about the mirror, it was just glass. But through it, she didn't see a pair of half-starving thieves, street foals with no future and no hope. Instead she saw the fresh robes of Celestia's order—the same robes her monks wore when they came to the lower quarter, dispensing food to ponies in need.

The same robes her paladins wore, when they fought the forces of darkness back from Canterlot's city walls. "Oh."

"Yeah," Star whispered. "Feels wrong, what we're doing. Like there was a better way all along."

Heavy metal boots stomped down the stairs overhead, rattling the ceiling. Midnight yanked, pulling her sister to the door. It swung open with some difficulty, letting them out into a dark tunnel beyond. A single light shone in the far distance, illuminating the exit onto Canterlot's cramped, smoky streets.

"I know we have to pay back Cogset's gang," Star said. "But do you think... once we've done that, we could stop stealing? I kinda like this robe. I think we could do better things with it than steal."

Midnight didn't answer for a long time, long enough that they reached the tunnel's exit. "We'll talk about it," she eventually said. "We have to pay back our debts first. After that... we'll see."

Opening Move

Twilight's brow twisted in concentration. Sweat slid down her face in a slow, distracting trickle. She needed perfect concentration. Over an hour of time went into this moment, the culmination of focus and discipline required to deliver her here.

Before her she saw an infinity of possible futures, each one more disastrous than the last. Her opponent Rainbow Dash had made such deviously clever plays, gradually stacking the odds against her with every turn.

The future of Equestria might not hinge on this moment, but the audience watching them certainly shared some of Twilight's anxiety. Half of Ponyville gathered around them, gradually filling the empty spots in the park. The delivery mare, several flower sisters, even the bat working the radio station just across the river.

Everypony was here to see what would come of this deadly engagement. Their whispers were another distraction, pulling Twilight away from where her focus needed to be.

"It's not a big deal," said her opponent from across the battlefield. Rainbow Dash was so relaxed she literally lounged on a cloud, head hanging upside-down to survey the deadly arena.

When she even bothered to look. She wasn't watching it now, but seemed to be enjoying the attention. If it wasn't for the audience, her opponent would likely have given up and moved on some time ago. But as their audience grew, so too did her pride.

Twilight allowed herself a single glance away from the arena. The townsponies had put on various flags and pins since last she saw them—purple or blue. The audience, like the battlefield, stilted blue.

Where did they even get those so fast? How long had they been locked in this desperate struggle? How long until Twilight discovered what Rainbow was doing to tilt the odds in her favor?

Finally, Twilight reached forward with one hoof, sliding a pawn across the chessboard towards Rainbow's unprotected king.

"Check."

Then she sat up, breathing a sigh of relief. Twilight should not be so stressed about this gambit, she'd been setting it up for the last six turns. It was one of Magnus Chariot's most daring ploys, the stuff only a real master of the game like Twilight should even attempt.

The bridle was tightening around Rainbow now. One more turn, and this streak of bizarre wins would finally come to an end.

Gasps rippled through the crowd, as surprised ponies leaned in to stare. Apple Bloom appeared closest to the board, then scampered away to whisper what had just happened to the crowd. But Twilight could hear nopony trying to pass instructions to Rainbow. Nopony was even on her side of the board, so they couldn't be sneaking up behind her.

They were sitting in Ponyville's public park, arranged around the single stone chessboard placed here for casual pick-up games. That was how this encounter had started, before it turned into a desperate struggle for Twilight's intellectual survival.

Rainbow turned back to the board, looked it over for less than a second, then nudged a single bishop across, snatching the pawn and trapping Twilight's own queen.

"Not anymore." She closed her eyes then, rolling back onto her cloud in mock-repose. There went one of Twilight's remaining pieces. More importantly, that was the end of her gambit.

How had she not seen that bishop? Twilight began to hyperventilate, rocking back and forth in her seat. She had spent minutes scouring the board for anything that could prevent her plan from working. Rainbow had walked right into it—now it was all ruined!

Without words exchanged, a few ponies switched colors away from her.

"I don't understand," somepony muttered—Twilight couldn't see who. "Isn't that the smartest pony in Equestria? How is she losing?"

The rest of the game was a forgone conclusion after that. In several brutal minutes, she tried to salvage what victory she could, but it was all doomed. Soon enough Rainbow toppled her king, with a dramatic, "Checkmate!"

Applause passed through the eager crowd, along with a smattering of polite stomps and many unhappy mutters.

"I can't believe it," Twilight whispered, oblivious to it all. For her, the audience could be thousands, and it would do nothing for her anxiety. Everything that confused and broke her was sitting across the table.

"Four wins," she said. "That's your fourth game in a row, isn't it?"

Rainbow looked up from her cloud, tilting her head slightly to one side. "Fifth? No, you could be right. I'm losing track."

She was losing track. This mare had beaten her so many times that she couldn't even remember how many!

It made no sense—nothing about these last few hours made sense. One casual game, one that began with explaining the rules to her friend, culminated with a defeat so devastating that the crowd was beginning to disperse. There was clearly no more drama to be had in who would win here.

"Twi?" The cloud popped, fizzing out into little wisps of mist and light. Rainbow landed on the ground across from her, making her way over. She rested one hoof around Twilight's shoulder, meeting her eyes.

Twilight remained in place, letting her do it. She was barely even thinking clearly enough to see what she was doing, much less stop her. "Twilight, what's wrong?"

The question was so outrageous it took Twilight several seconds to figure out how to respond. She couldn't not know.Was that question to humor her, or mock her?

"It doesn't make sense." She finally stood, pacing around the chessboard. She surveyed it from every angle. Each of the fallen pieces on the moon side had a story, a story of mistake after mistake.

"I've played everypony in Ponyville, almost. I've played at regional championships, I've played pickup games from Canterlot to Los Pegasus. I have my own pieces, in a set once owned by the ancient champion Bay Fisher."

Rainbow lifted her hoof when Twilight started moving, then followed behind her. There was no particular judgment on her face as she did it, just confusion. "Okay. Those all sound cool I guess. But what does that have to do with our game?"

"You can't beat me!" she said, both wings flaring. "I mean you shouldn't have. Once—anypony can make mistakes, or have beginner's luck. Maybe I wasn't giving our first game my full attention, since I thought you'd never played before."

"I haven't played before," Rainbow repeated. She said it with as much casual confidence as she had said so many other things before. Yet it must be a lie. There was no other explanation for her performance.

"Rainbow—my ELO is 2150. I'm one of the best ranked players in Equestria. You can't seriously be saying you'd never picked up the game before."

Rainbow's casual expression never faltered. She didn't look away, tuck her tail, or adjust her turning feathers the way she often did when she was being less than truthful. Every sign pointed to her honesty, except the obvious.

She must be lying. Either that, or— "How'd you do it then?" Twilight asked. Her horn flashed, and the pieces all teleported at once. They reappeared standing up, each one in the positions they'd been in. She recreated the Chariot gambit, the board identical to how it had been half an hour ago.

By now, they were alone in the park. The crowd dispersed, with ponies hurrying to get out of their way. Maybe they sensed a developing friendship problem, or they just feared what an angry princess could do.

But Twilight Sparkle wasn't mad.She was baffled, confused beyond all rational expression. She wasn't upset with Rainbow Dash—but she might be. If she learned that the pegasus had compromised her morals to achieve such success. If she learned that she'd cheated—Twilight wasn't even sure what she'd do then. Not feel very friendly, that was for sure.

"Right here. How'd you know to go for that pawn? The rook was threatening your queen."

Rainbow shrugged. She looked down at the board, then back up. "I guess. But you moved your piece towards my biggest one. I thought you told me I was supposed to protect him. If he fell, I lost."

She lowered her voice to an annoyed mutter. "Stupid king not defending himself. Wouldn't get into so much trouble if it was a princess instead."

Twilight's mouth hung open. Rainbow hadn't even seen the ploy against her queen? She aimed her horn at the board again, and the pieces all rearranged themselves. This was the setup from their previous game, when she had anticipated a critical trade of knights that derailed her whole plan when Rainbow sacrificed three pawns instead. "What about here?"

The pegasus squinted down at it again. Then she circled around the board, settling down to the side she would've been on when she was playing. Her face lit up suddenly. "Oh, right! You said the taller pieces were more important. I protected them with the smaller ones. Felt a little sorry for 'em... you won't tell Fluttershy, will you?"

Whatever anger the princess felt, drifted further towards confusion. In both cases, Rainbow hadn't been thinking of any long-term strategy, just repeated more advice that showed little comprehension of how the game actually worked.

Those were things Twilight had explained. And from the other side of the board, Twilight could imagine how they would make sense.

She repeated the exercise with a few more of the moves she remembered being the most infuriating, recreating the board each time from memory and demanding explanations. Each time, Rainbow's reasoning was so basic it would be a stretch to use even at extremely beginner-friendly chess courses.

She would've kept going through every single move in their whole series if Rainbow let her—but the pegasus wasn't known for her patience.

Rainbow groaned with exasperation, brushing the pieces off the board with one wing. "I get it, Twi. This whole chess thing doesn't matter to me anyway. You can go ahead and say you won, if you wanna. I won't be mad."

"Say I won?" Twilight repeated, baffled. "That won't mean anything. I don't care if I lost, but I have to understand why. Are you sure there was nothing else helping you? Nopony whispering advice, no spells cast on you... Trixie doesn't have anything to do with this, does she?"

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes, then took off. She floated in a low hover, watching Twilight with growing concern. "Twilight, I was just playing a game. I think maybe—maybe the reason you kept losing, was because you were thinking too much about your moves? It felt like you were taking longer and longer with every move you made. How long does it really take to figure out how to move one piece?"

"As long as it takes," Twilight answered, reflexively. "In tournament play, each player has a total of—"

Rainbow interrupted her, pushing her mouth gently closed with one hoof. "The first game we played, I thought you were gonna beat me. I just did whatever I wanted there at the end, to see what would happen. Then I just did whatever seemed to scare you the most."

Twilight's eyes widened with surprise and recognition. She looked back at the pieces, then at Rainbow. Losing game after game made it hard to think straight—would Rainbow Dash really lie about losing a board game? Was it all some elaborate plot to confuse or embarrass her—or was Twilight herself to blame?

She levitated the pieces back into place, taking her time with each one. She would leave this board arranged for whatever ponies happened to pass this way next.

"You didn't know how to play," Twilight whispered. "But you did whatever upset me the most." And the longer they played, the more Rainbow won—the less clearly Twilight thought.

She had lost before—but in a tournament setting, against the best ponies in the world, she could accept defeat. It was only because Rainbow Dash was her opponent that she had started spinning in circles.

"Sorry about getting crazy," Twilight finally said. "Can you forgive me?"

Rainbow giggled. "It's just a few games. Maybe we should do something easier next time. How do you feel about Dragon Pit?"

Ancient Library

Blair knew she was on the right track.

She'd known it for weeks, maybe months. But this time, she was certain. Three times she had propped the 14th District, located deep under Nova Canterlot's incredible concrete pylons. Three times her drones had reported massive cavities filled with organic material, arranged in orderly rows, before vanishing from the grid.

Now at long last she had learned all she could from the electronic eyes of disposable drones, and it was time to go down for real.

She dressed the part as she hurried down Nova Canterlot's dingy streets. A close-fitting jumpsuit of sturdy dark fabric, with the metal loops of a climbing harness, and a saddlebag of expeditionary gear.

Blair was no fool—she knew a deer in the city of Equestria would face dangers. She had none of the powerful magical advantages that gave the city's ruling elite their high places atop the Arcology Pyramids and Megatowers. Buck them and their magic, if it rotted the soul.

Wearing a plastic rebreather over her mouth was enough to keep off the smog and let her breathe clearly. Unfortunately it also kept her face hidden from the other street trash down on ground level.

She passed through a dark alley turned into a neighborhood bodega, and she couldn't give her usual greeting to the one-legged Minotaur running the place. She tossed a ration pack to a colt huddled in a cardboard box beside a bridge, and hoped it would be enough.

Food wasn't the problem anymore, though. With the collapse of the Global Weather Conglomerate, rain just didn't come for any creature who didn't have the bits to pay. The broadcasts boasted louder and louder of decreasing food prices, but ignored creatures struggling for thirst.

We're coming apart at the seams. Nova Canterlot won't last the decade unless someone can do something.

That someone was Blair—discoverer of lost knowledge, and eventual savior of the city. There would never be a statue with her name, but that didn't bother her. She wasn't some high-class unicorn, living in a perfumed mansion while the city below choked on its own excrement. She didn't care who had the credit, so long as her friends stopped dying.

More than once she had to break into a trot, as broad-shouldered brutes or other lower-city predators noticed her traveling alone. If the Library was somewhere respectable ponies went, she wouldn't need to be the one to find it, some creature already would have.

But she was prepared for this threat, too. She dodged between crowds the way her ancient ancestors had darted between the trees. Like the wolves of old, these urban predators soon realized she wasn't worth the chase, and found easier prey.

She reached her destination after an hour—Nova Canterlot Municipal Access. In days long gone, the huge metal door had opened many times a day to a steady stream of maintenance drones, that flowed up and down to keep the city shining.

But when Twilight left her ruling throne, so too had the city begun its own twilight, starting with the vast machines that kept it running.

No one knew how to keep the sewer-bots working, or maybe they just didn't care. Nopony who mattered ever walked the streets, so what difference did it make if they got a little dirty.

She wedged a crowbar under the rusty door, working it with great effort until it finally slid free. Whole sections of metal crumbled to the ground around her, provoking several passers-by to finally look up and notice her. They muttered fearfully, retreating out of the way.

"Is she crazy? Fast track to Tartarus, that way."

The laws of Nova Canterlot might protect all residents equally—but the enforcement of those laws was clear. No one cared if you attacked other residents, so long as you left city infrastructure alone.

Maybe it was her imagination, but Blair thought she heard a distant siren as she slipped through the rusty door, and into the darkness.

The police could try to follow her, but they'd be doomed. She stepped out of the ash and grime of the street and into an entirely separate world, with huge concrete arches rising high overhead.

She pressed the gas-mask tighter to her mouth, but still the stink of sewage made her eyes water. Ancient and modern all rotted alike, and more than once she gagged within her mask, threatening to spit it out.

After a short distance, she left the routes well known to Nova Canterlot residents, passing through rusty gates towards places only her drone eyes had seen in the last century.

She slowed slightly as she entered these abandoned places, pausing long enough to recover the flashlight headband and secure it. Once it was on, she could see just where she had ended up.

For a few seconds, Blair was stunned into silence. Far more impressive than any megatower, she had found the remnants of an ancient street, with buildings of just a story or two clustered together along a sloping mountainside.

Vast concrete columns rose in the distance, dwarfing the little street with its little houses. But no arcology or mega-engineering project could impress her quite like this.

The city was just... abandoned. It wasn't looted, the windows weren't broken. There was a thick layer of dust perhaps, but that was all.

She could almost hear the ghostly creatures walking down the streets, living lives that would be incomprehensible to the people of today. They might even know each others' names.

But Blair could not stop to mourn their loss, or the strange process that had led the residents of such a lovely little city to gradually cover the whole world in one sprawling megacomplex. She had almost reached her destination.

She found it near the peak of the little sloping settlement, where humble buildings transformed to a palace. It would still seem modest by modern standards, perhaps a dozen stories tall, of white stone stained by oil and other foul things seeping down from below.

Blair consulted her map, then stepped through the ancient gate. Her curiosity drew her towards the palace, and she longed to step through those half-open doors, and inspect the hanging threadbare tapestries. But she resisted, focused steadfastly on her goal.

"Canterlot Royal Library." It was crafted with the same reverence as everything else, not the mass-produced, flashfabed cement of Blair's world. There were fine statues on either side, Alicorns holding scrolls in their mouths. Unlike the palace just beside it, this ruin was unstained by oil, and its walls were unbroken.

A little too intact, all things considered.

There's still power here. Blair dimmed the light on her headlamp, then stepped inside. Her first drone had made it less than a hundred meters before it lost power, she should see it soon.

Through those impressive doors were a vast receiving-hall, with a gigantic model of Equus cast from stone. It still rotated slowly in a fountain of real water.

Except the map was wrong. She could see mountain ranges along Equestria's length, where she knew so many had been quarried away to nothing. There was no atomic crater in Yakyakistan, and the oceans had strange boundaries. There was still ice on this map.

Every little detail drew her eye—the magical crystals glowing from sconces along the walls, the strange plants of spun glass decorating every little desk. There was so much real wood here, so many real books. They had a smell to them, strong enough to make it through her gas-mask.

Blair removed it, letting it hang by its elastic bungee, stepping past an empty circulation desk. "The knowledge of the ancient princess is here," she muttered. "Helping no one, forgotten by the ones in charge."

And now she was here, where all those ancient secrets could be revealed.

"Visitor," said a voice, slow and mechanical. Her ears twitched, pivoting towards the sound. The empty circulation desk? Curious. "The Royal Library is currently understaffed. Please return at another time."

Blair made her way to the desk. She kept her muscles taut, ready to sprint back through the door at a moment's notice. Creatures whispered tales of horror of the ancient magic in these ruins, from before the day of machines and science.

She knew from her own explorations that the stories of great powers were true, or at least the ancients had believed them. The traps thing was basically just a myth—the old ponies of Equestria hadn't wanted to defend their secrets, but share them.

Too bad about the dying city covering it all up.

"Excuse me," she said, raising her voice just a little. She removed her hood, brushing some of the dust and dirt from her face. "I do not mean to be a bother to you, but I don't think I can return at another time. There's, uh..." She glanced over her shoulder at the empty city. There was no light outside, yet the inside of the library glowed warmly.

Whatever magic spoke to her obviously was enough to sustain the place, maybe even protect it from the decay outside. It could probably get rid of her, if she made it think she was a threat. "I'm just here to read a few books. Would it be alright if I look around? I promise to put everything back on the shelves where I found it."

There was a pause, and a long silence. When the voice came again, she could at least see where it came from—a complex golden apparatus, sunken into the space just behind the desk. It vanished into the floor, as though it carried with it various electrical and support lines.

"It is not permitted for anypony to access the library without staff in attendance. The resources here are valuable, and present information that may be dangerous if not understood in their proper context. Please make a request to the Royal Society, and file staffing resources. There are... sixteen thousand unresolved maintenance orders."

Blair nodded, as though she were about to obey the voice and retreat the way she came. But her mind raced—maybe old magic responded the same way as new computers did. She could trick it.

"Oh, I see your mistake! See, I was just assigned here from the Royal Society. There has been an extended, uh... period of low resources availability. I'm here to help!"

She didn't wait for the voice to respond, just strode right past it into the Library proper. Past the circulation desk was a vast stairwell, as wide as some of the buildings outside, with several interconnected stairwells stretching down. She saw dozens, maybe even hundreds of floors down there, each cut from the rock.

Not with identical mechanical precision, either—this was a work of art, constructed by thousands of loving hooves. Everywhere she looked she saw more shelves, overflowing with knowledge.

The Royal Society has access to everything ever discovered. Princess Twilight must have kept books coming in here long after the city outside was abandoned.

For the elites and their teleportation, maybe a deserted ruin was an advantage, since it would keep the riff-raff away.

She did not make it very far before she came to another desk, slightly smaller than the first. There was another glowing apparatus inside, one that seemed somehow brighter.Was it angry at her?

"You are reporting for duty, librarian?" it asked, even sounding agitated. "Please state your name for the record."

"I'm Blair," she said, making to walk past this desk as well. Either her ploy was working, or else the library's ancient protections were wearing thin. "Just here to be a... librarian, yep. Whatever you just said."

"Excellent. Due to persistent staffing shortage, employee loyalty protocol is in effect," it said. "Please remain still."

"Remain—"

Something slammed into her from all directions, the weight of several hulking metal objects. They smacked into her limbs with considerable weight, driving her to the ground. She screamed, trying to tear herself away. In vain, as whatever holding her only constricted.

The assault brought with it an incredible surge of magic, one strong enough for her to feel even without magical senses. But it did not last long.

As quickly as it began, it fled again. Blair opened her eyes, and found she was still on the top floor of the library. Only her explorers' clothes were gone, her flashlight, her saddlebag of supplies. Instead she wore only... gold chains?

They connected to manacles on her hooves, made of metal so thin it was almost lace. Except when she tried to pull on it, and found it didn't bend. Still, they were loose enough for her to move freely. Her hooves connected to another thicker collar around her neck. That ended in a chain that trailed through the air, fading to transparent.

But when she backed away, she felt resistance on that chain, as though it was connected to something real. It might be invisible, but it still exerted a pull.

"Staff retention protocol complete. Welcome, Librarian Blair. There are currently sixteen thousand unresolved maintenance orders."

Something chimed, and a sheet of paper slid out of a slot hidden in the desk. "Here is your first assignment. Please feel free to access any of the library's resources to complete it."

Blair stumbled past the desk, making it out onto the balcony. She pulled at the collar around her neck, tugging as hard as she could. It hurt, but the metal didn't give.

Here she stood, at the threshold of the world's largest supply of lost knowledge.

But how was she supposed to get it out?