Dante half dozed as his Jackrabbit sedan inched through traffic under the control of the autopilot. The pain pills were taking the edge off but his head still throbbed. The saccharine-sweet score of ‘My Little Breezies’ would not leave the back of his mind. A hoof felt through the overgrown fluffy bangs he had created and felt the perpetually sore dome of flesh that had pushed out of his forehead like some nascent volcano.

“Two more days,” he sighed, thinking of the Breezy contract

That was only partly true. There would be another menial job after that, and another after that. Speculum Shine would see to that. He’d eke out enough pay at this rate to pay his bills, but little more. Had all things been equal he was sure this would have continued until either Speculum won an even higher position, Dante changed careers, or until Dante could convince someone higher in the guild that a pony of his seniority and talent was being criminally wasted on contracts that normally were filled by colts still wet behind the ears, fresh out of the Illusionist’s Academy.

All things were not equal.

That was the one immutable truth he had clung to in order to get through the hour spent as Speculum's supplicant. The smile that been lorded over him was seared to memory. The written apology which he understood Speculum had taken to using to quiet any pony who disagreed with an assignment was bitter ash. Still, he had written it. Still, he had begged tickets to the Solari Foundation Gala. Still, he had gotten into the event and made enough money through his far more pertinent employment to afford several crucial things.

Of course, it had not been Dante in official attendance. The plea for a ticket to the Solari Foundation Gala, odd as it was, was rumored to have been Dante's ploy to raise enough money via a scalped ticket to make ends meet. Dante did nothing to disabuse his colleagues from this assumption. Just as he did nothing to counter the rumors that the better part of a year spent hungry and destitute had left him sickly, which was why he was constantly wearing a heavy jacket and leg wraps.

The feeling that his life was little more than an assumed role now occasionally haunted his thoughts. Just another lie among the dozens. It was both getting easier and harder. None of his comrades had openly commented on how quickly he had shifted between identities at the Solari Gala. He had made mistakes though, nearly fatal mistakes. He hadn’t considered that the Couch Mare Club team would be already on site with the white unicorn mage that was quickly proving his personal nemesis. He hadn’t been prepared for a bodyguard pony of Woad Moss' caliber guarding their extraction target, Smokey Lace. He had assumed that Cloud Pavilion as a mid-level Solari Manager would have been invited. Most frustratingly, he had wasted time in trying to magically command a Waiter to give him a wine bottle with which to dispose of Smokey Lace's tracking device rather than simply asking for a lousy wine bottle.

“Everything looks like a nail to a hammer.”

He almost didn't want to think about how he had nearly been undone by losing his briefcase in the helter-skelter dash for the exits before the security shutters closed after the CMC team blew up the vault ten floors above them. The monetary loss from the equipment left behind would have erased the gains of the entire event, mostly from the loss of the fake Alicorn Amulet. Any pony finding the fake amulet and the various clothing and items belong to Cloud Pavilion would have possibly identified his involvement, his interest in the Cores. That would have been a far greater chance for ruin.

Against all of that his plot, worthy of a straight to Trideo thriller. Where he fooled Woad Moss, allowing him to take Smokey Lace's place while the para-botanist was spirited away by the others, only to give Moss the slip by reappearing as Cloud Pavilion, Solari Foundation Manager. THEN he would use that guise and the access granted to gain control of a set of executive credentials. THEN finally access to the high-security vault and the Alicorn Amulet.

It had been foolish. The degree of which was painfully apparent the moment after he had largely crippled himself with drain on a spell that had only modestly hurt Woad Moss and the entire plan fell to ruin. If not for Vixies' ability to put down Woad Moss in hoof to paw combat, things would have ended very badly. If not for Split Klaw's willingness to divert his own escape in order to recover Glass' briefcase. Well, it could have been worse, a lot worse. At least the authorities would be tracking the Couch Mare Club team, not him. It would be the white unicorn who had chased him around the museum and her friends who had the ex-Princess of Magic's full and undivided attention. Dante wagered that she would not appreciate the unicorn mage that he knew only as CS blowing up the vault of her foundation while her minions had been entertaining the high society of Seattle in the ballrooms below.

It was a level of scrutiny he had been anxious about accruing given all the, well, other things going on. Defeat was only delay, there was theoretically nothing stopping him from stealing the amulet from the Couch Mare Club.

The pilot of his Jackrabbit chimed. The bulk of Starlight Suites Tower loomed above him as he pulled into the garage. It was corp housing once removed. A once-grand building in an Auburn neighborhood that had seen better days. That a Renraku subsidiary had bought for a song, 'renovated' to the point of adequacy while kicking out the gangs, all to the tune of a significant tax break from Brackhaven. It wasn’t luxury by any means, but it would do, especially the good security left in place to deter the gangs from returning. Still, he had taken no chances. He had made a point right after the Gala of being seen taking magically shielded safe deposit cases with anti-tamper seals to five different banks where they sat in safe deposit boxes

The real power Cores sat in a shielded manacase, inside his lodge, within the faux fireplace of the study he had converted, concealed within a hollowed-out log of real wood. The score stood two to one with the Heavenly Ocean Star, the Sapphire Core unaccounted for, and some number of others yet to be discovered. He let his head fall back against the seat as he waited for the whirr of the retaining clamps and charging port to finish attaching. It was a brief interlude before he would need to go upstairs and start his second job, figuring out the myriad mysteries of the Cores and the myriad mysteries of the bureaucracies needed to reinvent oneself like a phoenix.

A heavy-handed holographic reminder from the tenant association that overnight guests must be registered 24 hours in advance with building security greeted him, the sullen glow on his door, signed Inquisición Española. A brief moment of panic made his stomach feel leaden. Had someone heard or seen his 'casual' form lounging in his unit? A seemingly white mare that had been seen in a unit rented by a gray stallion. No, after a moment, he admitted it must be Silver Stream they were talking about.

He wasn’t sure why he was going through the charade at this point. True, he found her an attractive mare, but those welcoming eyes shone for a stallion that only existed at this point as a façade. Likewise, the occasional evening watching Silver Stream convulse with wild abandon as the pleasure center of her brain overloaded was causing some very conflicted emotions. He found it strangely enjoyable to have that kind of power over a pony. Too much time spent around Silky Sheets, he guessed

Yet there was also a note of apprehension, just how different was he compared to Silver Stream these days? He dismissed the notice off-handedly only to realize there was yet another reminding residents that all Hearth's Warming decorations were to be removed by January 3rd, Hearts and Hooves Day decorations could not be put up prior to February 1. Dante for the briefest of instants considered draining the head of the Residents Association. Then realizing how meager the meal would be sighed and started unlocking each maglock in sequence. Stepping inside, he pulled out his scanner drone and went through his ritual of secrecy. As every time before no cameras were found and none of his anti-tamper indicators had been tripped.

Dante flopped down on his couch, and with a sigh peeled off his jacket. A pair of grey fluffy hooves worked at the fasteners on his leg wraps, stopping briefly once to fasten the aquamarine mane that flowed into existence into a more manageable bun, and twice as their coat changed to velvety pearlescent white. An inserted pause passed with a rub to Dante's shrinking muzzle. Feeling his face rearrange itself had become routine. With a few soft grunts, he rolled the clothing off a back leg and revealed definitely why not all things were equal.

Dante ran a brief scan and confirmed that the limb was .02” longer than yesterday, a seemingly small number but it had been adding up for months now. Each time he checked, in turn, was much the same and as the measurements completed Dante wondered for the Nth time if he had cursed himself by so flippantly mocking his fate. The legs that recently had no business being on a stallion now were becoming far too exotic looking to belong on a common mare.

A frown crossed his muzzle. A week ago he had been wearing concealing clothing while the most privileged ponies of Seattle pranced about the Solari Gala, an annoyingly large number of the mares sporting either genemods or cyberware designed to make them look more like the Alicorns they professed to hate behind their backs, professed to love to their faces, and no matter which was true, did everything they could to emulate. Dante couldn't say how he felt about the fact that he was increasingly looking like he belonged among the show-mares at Fancy Pant's latest spectacle.

Dante briefly wondered if Fancy Pants was still doing his all to keep Radiant Pine from gaining de facto control over the goings-on in Canterlot, but he had bigger problems. Namely that several weeks ago he had foolishly tempted fate by sarcastically musing about a possible future. Fate it seemed had gotten the last laugh.

Dante had deep misgivings about his (mis)fortune but it did mean he had an out. Dante Haze would effectively be done as anything more than an affectation the moment he took that exit though. Nova-hot Bat-Pony Alicorn show-mare: formerly struggling stallion illusionist. The best marketers Horizon employed would struggle to make that bio blurb fly. The simplest answer was to just let Dante Haze fade into obscurity, while his reflection went on living his life.

It was sobering, counting out the final days of an existence. Before minutes had bled into hours, hours into days, days into weeks, weeks into months, and finally into years. The bucket always seemed to be full of endless tomorrows. Now he could see the bottom of that figurative bucket growing ever closer with each passing day, at least as it related to Dante. He got up and retrieved his Medkit.

“Medkit, Login, User Mirror Darkly.”

“USER MIRROR DARKLY, VOICE PRINT RECOGNIZED.”

Dante winced as he pricked himself.

The unit ran through a list of errors but it was the two master errors that concerned him most.

WARNING: NO METATYPE MATCH FOR USER MIRROR DARKLY.

The old fear gnawed at Dante’s stomach. He had bought the niche add-on for his Med-Kit for Night One physiology, but still the Kit couldn’t make sense of his blood sample. Of course there was the not small chance that an Alicorn Bat Pony had never been added to the gene registry but every time he checked he hoped the Kit would spit out an error that it was dealing with an unrecognized Night One profile…that had never happened.

WARNING: SAMPLE CONTAMINATION DETECTED, SECONDARY EARTH PONY STALLION CONTAMINATION DETECTED IN 17% OF SAMPLE.

“83%,” Dante frowned before sweeping a loose tendril of hair behind an ear, “Two, maybe three weeks at this rate before….,” Dante trailed off as he walked to the mirror and made a quarter turn.

“Assuming touching the metaplanes again doesn’t speed things up.”

He felt for a set of muscles he’d never had before, the odd feeling of tightness as they pulled against his shoulders but almost immediately stopped as they met resistance. A twin pair of ridges pushed up from under his skin. The visual effect was unnerving like some alien creatures were writhing under his skin. Relaxing let the bulges fade. A few quivering twitches and his back was still if a touch lumpy near his shoulders. Dante rolled his shoulders.

“You’re wasting time,” he curtly noted.

With a sigh, he marched to the kitchen and poured a bowl of apple-oats. Five minutes later he was digging through a half dozen texts concerning the Pre-Diarchy history of Equestria and the early exploits of Radiant Pine and the Amethyst Guard. Most of the sources were fragmentary, contradictions were rife, and there was a fair bit of speculation mixed with fact.

An hour later Dante rubbed his temples. Pressure formed plasteel was less dense than this. The overriding question clear, how had so much been lost? The technology of a past age forgotten. It would be understandable but…. But Radiant Pine had been there, as had the Royal Sisters. The Great Planar War had been fought by a handful that still lived, yet they kept their secrets close. At this point he knew enough to realize there was a great deal more in the world that the average pony suspected. It bore consideration.

In the meantime Dante brought up another screen and considered a token of appreciation to Split Klaw. Perhaps a flask with a container for a holdout pistol, yes. The hobo drifter would appreciate that.

The following day.

Dante’s stomach grumbled, Speculum's menial work was eating into his time. Dante refused to rush his 'other' dining lest he inadvertently select a pony undeserving of his, attentions. A growing pile of laundry that needed to be done, and a trashcan full of takeout boxes attested to the compromises being made.

Dante checked the time. Another hour until the bars and clubs started to fill. He breathed a silent prayer of thanks that he only had one more day left on the Breezy contract. He returned his attention to his notes and weighed again whether he was prepared to dive again into the metaplanes. He was increasingly certain that the faux elements were actually arcaneo-tech relics, the Cores of the interdictor machines he had seen in his vision. Relics of the Great Planar War. The two ponies he had seen had referenced five sites or six. Likely six, as they had discussed the completed upgrades to the device in Trottingham and then discussed five more similar sites. They had been in Thunderhead, then mentioned the citadel of HARMONY, where the Planar War had been won, and three others.

The adventurers of the Amethyst Guard had possessed at least some of the Cores briefly during Sombra's assaults. Yaklicia had the Circlet, the Emerald Core of his vision. Green Sneer the Songcrest Meridian, the Tiara, and Amethyst Core. The Alicorn Amulet, the Ruby Core, and the Heavenly Ocean Star, the Sapphire Core, were known, albeit not located though he suspected the Couch Mare Club would not take the Alicorn Amulet far. That left two potentially. Most worrisome of all was the discussion about using the stones in relation to 'Sunny'. Dante was no fool, the Ascension of Twilight Sparkle just before the dramatic rise in magic, the Ascension of Mi Amore Cadenza a bit over a decade earlier. These events were case studies in most textbooks of magical theory. There was far less published about the origins of the Royal Sisters but it made sense that something similar might have happened.

The histories, even those likely twisted to suit Radiant Pine's narrative were consistent. Celestia and Luna had simply emerged during the time of Heroes, no official record clarified what had come before. No tales of precocious youths. Given what he had seen he now suspected where the Alicorn of the Sun might have come from. The question was whether the Cores had been used to accomplish it, or as a catalyst, or whether it was some other purpose that the sorcerer pony, identifiable as the legendary Danger Close from Radiant Pine’s self-promoting trideo histories of his glories won during the Age of Heroes, had in mind.

It was intriguing and he desperately wanted to inquire again of the metaplanes but each journey so far had doubled as a catalyst for his own mutation. He twirled a pen around his hoof as he weighed the risks against the reward for the Nth time. He would have a brief window between contracts after the wrap tomorrow. On one hoof he worried about ------

Dante looked down as his mundane stomach once again interjected. With a sigh, he pushed back his chair and walked to his auto-chef. The red warning light that the unit was low on ingredients from soy-hay to krill-paste to kelp flour made it clear that just about all of his favorites were off the menu.

“I'll go the Stuffer Shack tomorrow, remember that promise Dante? Tomorrow was four days ago,” he scolded himself.

A moment later a holographic geisha mare turned and walked out of the Augmented Reality space bearing a fancy scroll, her confirmation that Dante’s order was being sent to Golden Star's finest Neighponese chefs inviting a look of incredulity. Still a scroll unrolled in AR and a timer in calligraphic script began to count down above a guarantee of delivery in 30 minutes or the next meal was half off. *Delivery Drone will wait a maximum of 5 minutes.

Dante looked down at his casual appearance and back to the timer. He had time to check that last reference and citation before getting dressed.

A short time later.

A koto riff played, grabbing Dante's attention.

“That was fas----,” Dante started before noticing the timer stood at 02:37.

“Most valued and honorable customer, your order is waiting for pickup at the Starlight Suites delivery landing zone. Please be accepting our apologies for a most regrettable incident should you not take delivery in time. NO REFUNDS.”

The timer switched to a five-minute countdown.

“Oh come on!”

Dante looked at the couch where his leggings laid and back at the timer. He’d never make it. His stomach growled. What to do?

4:42 later

The building security spider glanced at the notice on his console as a silver-coated mare ran out onto the delivery drone landing pad in an ill-fitting sweater. The broadcast SIN wasn’t hers but he recognized her as the filly friend of one of the residents whose commlink she had in hoof.

“Wait, wait…WAIT, I’m here….uh I mean I have the delivery code…”

The drone just beeped, scanned the provided commlink, and chirped. The prominently displayed timer reset and a hatch opened just long enough to disgorge a steaming box. The mare licked her lips as she took the box and happily started back. A figure waited in the shadows of the entryway. Distracted the silver-coated pony walked right into the ambush.

“Ah hah, I knew it! We meet in the flesh for the first time Silver Stream!” A severe faced, Latin mare with a dark mane streaked with grey glared harshly from under a wide-brimmed scarlet hat that matched her smock.

“Silver Stream? But where,” the silver mare started to look around before remembering something, “Oh yes, yes, that is my name. Oh, Inquisicion Espanola, I wasn’t expecting you…”

“NOBODY EXPECTS INQUISICION ESPANOLA! My chief weapon in catching rule-breakers is surprise. Surprise and the fear ponies show when they know they’ve been caught red-hoofed. Err… My two chief weapons are surprise and fear, yes, surprise, fear, and my fanatical devotion to the bylaws that maintain order in this chaotic world… Damnit, amongst my chief weapons are….”

Dante tried to edge around the Resident Association President.

“Where do you think you’re going Missy? Do you have any idea how many rules you and your colt friend have broken?

“I have a sneaking suspicion you’re about to tell me…”

“The impertinence! I should have known, you’re just as incorrigible as Dante it seems. I'll give you one chance, one chance to explain how you got past security, or else I’ll have you dragged out and handed over to Knight Errant for a year's service in the Diamond Dog Quarries. I hear they use loose mares like you as currency there.”

“Look this is all a big misunderstanding. I’m not staying, I just came down to get dinner.”

“Yes, I can see exactly what you’re doing. Wearing a stallion’s sweater! Mane un-brushed! Forgetting your own name! I wager you’re high on the drugs as we speak. Oh, you’d like me to let you go wouldn’t you? So you can get back that penniless colt friend of yours so you can continue with your drug-fueled orgies!! Not on MY watch. I should have Security parade him down to the lobby, whether he’s decent or not…Just so everyone can see what the wages of sin do to a stallion.”

“No don’t do that, that’s uh totally not necessary,” faux Silver Stream panicked.

“Oh are you afraid of something? Consider it tough love. Rogues like Dante will never shape up if you don’t force them to. I’m doing you a kindness in imparting this wisdom. Dante will never buy the orchard,” Inquisicion flicked her tail at faux Silver Stream's muzzle, “when he gets all the apples he could want for free.”

“You’re being totally unreasonable!”

“Am I? You protest otherwise but you know I’m right. One day you'll have foals of your own and thank Celestia that there are ponies like me who keep all civilization from collapsing. Confess your evil ways and I may yet be merciful,” she shook a hoof at faux Silver Stream.

Faux Silver Stream turned a little green at the mention of foals and her rear legs drew a little tighter together for a passing instant before fate intervened.

“Oh look, missionaries from the Church of Latter-Day Saddles, and a colt with pizza delivery door hangers. I remember that place, their ads are a little ribald.”

A gasp of terror answered the Faux Silver Stream.

“Sweet baby Celestia!!! No, no, NO!..... Security,” Inquisicion yelled into her commlink. She spent a moment prancing until a large Diamond Dog showed up.

“Yes, Ms. Espanola?”

“Escort this troublemaker from the premises. I will deal with her colt friend later.”

The Diamond Dog sighed before speaking into his link. “Daily incident report, uh, number 27, escorting unregistered guest from premises at request of Resident Association President.”

Faux Silver Stream watched Inquisicion runoff and allowed herself to be led away to the front door. Takeout in hoof.

A few moments later.

The silver mare circled muttering just outside the main door working a commlink. Finally, she approached the door guard security station and the older Pegasus working there.

“Heya Twirling Baton, Silver Stream is registered…”

The Pegasus raised an eyebrow at the odd pronouncement.

“Uh I mean, Dante registered me, Silver Stream, as a guest. Can I please get inside and to eating dinner before it gets cold?”

“Sorry, no can do Miss,” Baton muttered, “Ms. Espanola says I’m not to let you in until you’ve shown proper 'contrition' of your evil, loose mare ways. She says you’re part of the moral decay that will destroy society if unchecked, and one of the myriad ponies that will be cast into the lake of hot chili sauce in Tartarus as punishment at Celestia's second coming.”

The Faux Silver Stream’s eye twitched slightly as Baton continued.

“I can’t say I give it much thought. I doubt you’ve done anything so bad, but Ms. Espanola is sure that you make the sweet baby Celestia cry. ‘Wicked ponies are why Celestia allows bad things to happen to Equestria’…but, but, I just can’t take another lecture about how I’m the last bastion of order and decency, and how not picking up loose Stuffer Shack Candy wrappers are a sure sign that the end times, when the savage Griffons of the barrens will devour our foals, are near. You’re going to have to go.”

Faux Silver Stream’s eye twitched. Finally, silently the silver mare turned and left. Twirling Baton, turned away and did not notice as the mare paused briefly and seemed to judge something only she could see.

A few moments later

Inquisicion Espanola marched up to the front door, parcel in hand. Twirling Baton started to comment on the need for a security scan, but a glare from the Latin mare silenced the comment.

“Hrrmph, remind me to send you more motivational material…,” the mare proclaimed.

Twirling Baton seemed to sink into his chair.

“Yes, Yes Ms. Espanola,” he answered in defeated weariness, and turned away.

With narrowed eyes the mare turned and marched into the building, pausing slightly to make sure that Twirling Baton was looking the other way as a particular line was crossed. A slight flicker went unnoticed.

Twirling Baton worked up the courage to say something and started to call after Inquisicion Espanola. He stopped as he rubbed his chin, confused as he noticed something.

“Were her fetlocks always that nice?” Baton muttered to himself.

A horrified look crossed Baton’s face as the mental thought hit him. The stallion rubbed his temples with both hooves and after a moment opened a drawer.

A small drink flask was thrown into the garbage can.

The following day

An unholy gurgling sound accompanied a dry retch. Dante briefly considered cursing the Lucky Star Neighponese Best takeout chef unto the 7th generation but he was acutely aware that it didn’t feel like his stomach was the source of his nausea, or the hot, unsettled, feeling in his lower abdomen. Given the alternative, he actually hoped it was dodgy teriyaki soy that was making him feel so poorly.

His commlink bleeped, The MLB director, summoning ponies back from the all too short break for lunch.

“Ughh,” Dante willed himself to his feet and started for the door, only to have to step aside as a small throng entered. He recognized Glitter Glam towards the back, and was likewise noticed in return.

“Hoy, Dante, you look like you've seen better days,” Glitter Glam asked with some concern

“Eh, just…just some takeout last night that’s not agreeing with me,” Dante forced out a wan smile. Another gurgle punctuated the pause following the lie.

“Expired soy doesn’t do this,” he waved a hoof at Dante's getup, “you look like you’re about to audition for the next Mummy remake.”

“Just some chills,” Dante worked to reassure, then switched to deflection, “what are you doing here anyways?”

“Eh, Apple-Zap advert for their employees. They’re running some sort of campaign encouraging the workforce to get bio-enhanced, complete with cosmetic coat changes (all nice earthy colors) and chip implants to ensure proper mastery of the complexities of the Apple-Zappian idiomatic speech. Probably a good deal if you’re okay with the terms.”

“Yeah, including the inability to change employment without being bankrupted by recovery fees,” Dante nodded.

“Well I guess it’s the old joke. Apple-Zap, where you can be any apple related thing you want to be…Still nu-bits are nu-bits, and I’ve gotten the distinct pleasure of trying to coach the loveliest farm fillies Apple-Zap could round up through giving their honest testimonials and scripted encouragement. That’s a perk all its own amirite?”

Glitter Glam knowingly elbowed Dante.

“Maybe I can convince one or two to consider further lessons in advertising or show business back at my place. You should swing by the production lot, give you something to look forward too after the hell of doing a show for four-year-old fillies all week.”

Dante started to respond.

“I think, I'm going to have to pass,” Dante's rear legs quivered a touch and he briefly lost control of his voice which warbled upwards through an octave as it felt like his lower gut was being pulled this way and that.

“Dude, you do not sound good.”

“(Cough) I’m going to have to pass, Silver Steam might get the wrong idea, plus according to Speculum's scheduler, I’ve got a pre-production meeting for next week's gig. I’ve got to do the music video tie-in to a Corp cartoon 'Pretty Princess Prancing High.’ Apparently there’s a fairly extensive doll line.”

“Oh I had forgotten you and Silver Stream were a thing. I have no idea what you’re going to do when she wants to move you out of whatever hovel you’re currently haunting. You never struck me as the type of stallion that would take well to domestication. Mares eh, can’t live with them, life isn’t worth living without them.”

Dante considered the difficult implications and a look of dread crossed his face. Glitter mistook the reason and continued.

Sorry to hear about the job, jeez that’s rough. We've got to get the guys together and have a proper night out before your mane starts growing out in curls and you develop an unhealthy interest in the Carousel Boutique Spring Catalogue.”

A bead of sweat formed at Dante's mane-line.

“Haha,” Dante answered with his best mock chuckle, it sure would be crazy if that happened..(Urk, Hrgn, Eeeeee), The very idea is ludicrous. Alas I need to get back to work.”

Dante fought to keep his composure as his face went through a series of gymnastics, it wasn’t easy when it felt like a spectral hoof was rearranging his insides. A few of his coarse gray hairs briefly curled towards aquamarine as a patch of Inquisicion’s mocha beige ran up one leg while the fur of one his foreleg fetlocks shifted into Silver Stream’s bluish silver. He summoned a force of will as he felt a strand of mane start to tickle the bump on his forehead.

Turning abruptly, he moved off taking mincing steps.

“Odd fellow your friend, Glitter,” another stallion noted.

“Eh, leave him be, he’s had a rough patch, besides I’ve had food poisoning before and when you gotta go, you gotta go. Give him a few weeks being on a regular schedule, regular pay, and regular food and he’ll be fine. Just another of the lads at the studio.”

Dante leaned up against the wall of one of the studio buildings. A drop of sweat forming at the end of his muzzle. His vision moved in and out of focus with the throbs in his head and the throbs in his gut.

“Why does this have to happen now?”

The petulant whine did nothing to ease the feeling of discomfort.

“PAGING MR. HAZE TO BUILDING 4,” the loudspeaker droned lazily.

“Oh come on, I’m not that..,” he looked at the time and gulped.

Forcing himself to stand, he made it a few steps before vertigo nearly made him fall. In that moment he would have almost preferred to be facing down the barrel of a Yakuza gun to this. Focusing on getting one hoof in front of the other he staggered through a side door.

“You are late. I expected better from a professional of your seniority.”

The producer’s thinly veiled threat faintly echoed in the thin space.

“I’m dealing with some food poisoning. Now, why don’t you cut the hay with the power trip and get back to doing the part of your job that matters.

To the surprise of many onlookers the producer shrugged his shoulders and moved on. Dante was on the verge of telling the next pony that bothered him to go dance in traffic on the 405 via his magic, but aside from a few glares from other ponies who likewise resented the slight extension of their association with the project, no pony else garnered his wrath.

Dante struggled mightily. Most of his work was below par for his normal standards. The pain came in waves. If any noticed the moments when he gritted his teeth and did his best to ignore the stabbing cramps between his hindquarters, they didn’t show it.

As the saccharine music echoed in his ears, and a blinding array of pastel colors danced in his vision Dante wondered if somehow he had died and gone to the 9th level of Tartarus. The slow mercy of the clock grinding forward and scene after scene passing was the only succor.

“That’s a wrap, good job ponies, if we’re signed for another season we'll keep everyone in mind.”

Low murmurs offered thanks, but the words were hollow. No one actually wanted to work on a property like this. Maybe a well-written reboot might save it. Dante went to pick up his bag and an icy feeling ran down his spine. There was a subtle feeling like part of him was missing. A gulp traveled down his throat. He was barely paying attention as he walked out through the studio gates.

“This day could hardly get worse,” he gruffly groused.

A pair of silver-blue hooves descended and blocked his vision. His blood ran like ice…not now.

“Oh Silver Stream, what a surprise!” Dante did his best to show enthusiasm.

“Wow, someone’s a grumpy Gus,” Silver Stream playfully teased.

Dante felt a bouquet be swished under his nose. The silver hooves were removed. A few flowers with stomach calming properties levitated in front of his face.

“I heard you were suffering, which is unfortunate, I thought we'd celebrate you making it through your first week back to work without pulling a Luna.”

Dante's heart melted to see her bouncing up and down hopefully. The weight of everything, the entire house of cards he had built bore down on him. He couldn’t let things keep going like this, but to lay bare everything? He wavered.

“Silver?”

“Yes, Dante?”

“…Thanks. I needed reminding everything isn’t that bad.”

“Ah shucks, don’t mention it.”

It was too much to ask all in one day. He’d tell her the truth tomorrow, or next week...eventually.

“…so he tells me he wants AR balloons on the ad, and I go, okay balloons are fun, festive, not sure they’re the right feel for a krill farm but hey, he's the client. Then he says, 'let’s add some streamers', streamers? 'Oh yes' he says, ' some candy, and let’s top it off with confetti.’”

“Ughh, reminds me of a writer who clearly had seen too many Red Samurai knockoffs. ’Ultra-Pony Action Force vs. the Gruesome Griffons' every last stallion in a red and black scheme.”

Dante laughed from the patio table of a decent little Downtown diner. A small order of hay fries lay in front of him half-eaten.

“Exactly,” Silver Stream chuckled her eyes twinkling, “but here’s the kicker. 'I know you’re the matrix designer and all, but I think the entire aesthetics need to be shall be we say…cooler…Yes, I think about 20% cooler would do nicely.”

Silver Stream badly imitated a stallion, Dante laughed until his eyes watered. A family walked by, the mare pushing a stroller as her stallion led a small foal. A moment passed before Dante recognized Silver Stream had stopped talking, a slightly wistful look on her face as she noted the little group pass by. Dante recognized that look and he choked down some worry. It’s not like that was ever going to be in the cards now.

“You know I’ve been totally perplexed by a mystery,” Silver teased turning back to the conversation, “I found the loveliest strand of mane hair in my mane brush the other day. All blue-green and sparkly. I can only imagine the mare it must belong to. The only thing is I haven’t ever lent out that brush and I don’t ever recall meeting a mare with that color mane. So it’s a bit of a mystery how it wound up in my brush.”

“I couldn’t say how that happened,” Dante felt the tight knot of anxiety start to return, Silver sensing his disinterest changed topics.

“So, do you think after a few assignments of getting even that Speculum will stop being so horrid to you?”

Dante recognized the question for what it was.

“I don’t know to be honest. Part of me hopes so, but I think he enjoys having me as a living object lesson should anyone get out of line.”

“Well, I suppose if you spend some time on current projects it will make it easier to re-establish a hoof hold somewhere else. My mother keeps harping on me to put some time into my portfolio and come see what’s available in Fillydelphia.”

Dante forced a smile, but the suggestion was clear.

“I’d need more than one production for toddling foals, but it’s an idea,” Dante began, before trailing off

“Well as long as you only have to put up with how he mistreats you for a little while,” Silver softly replied.

“Just a little bit longer,” Dante affirmed, though not in planning a retreat, but rather until he could figure out how to destroy Speculum Shine.

“Then who knows? I’ve always been…open to new experiences.”

Dante looked on as a slightly conspiratorial look washed over Silver Stream. He wasn’t sure of her intent until he felt one of her back hooves start tracing up the inside of his leg, hidden by the table. Normally he would have been faster to find a workable response, but mental fatigue mired his thoughts. Slight neediness crept into Silver's countenance.

Suddenly it clicked, Dante tried to remember how many times he had used his signature spell on Silver Stream. Instructors constantly warned about this with every spell that fed a more potent sensation, something more real than real to the metaequine mind. He was sure Silver Stream had wanted to consciously make him happy, but he was also sure that subconsciously her mind was trying to get more of what she was coming to crave. The subtle signs were all there plain to see, most notably the slightly glassy eyes. At that moment Dante had to deal with the realization that his special some pony was on the verge of addiction.

The seconds needed to process this slowed his response to Silver’s flirting. Dante worked to recover, “Why Silver, when you suggest a party you sure do come through. I could think of few activities more engaging.”

The moment of confusion on Silver’s face melted at the agreeable recognition of her suggestion. Dante tried to think of a way out as he finished off his hay fries, but none came.

Dante walked through the door into Silver’s place and recognized both his fear and comfort. There were no piles of boxes against every bare, sterile wall. The furniture matched and was full of soft, comfortable places to stretch out. A far cry from the battered spartan survivors he had scrounged up. AR projected from the walls that currently turned the modest condo into a cozy party pavilion in some starlit forest. Off to the side, the AR illusion made it seem like a small jazz quartet had nothing better to do than wait for the two ponies that had just arrived. Silver's household drone was just finishing up putting a bottle of something bubbly in a bowl of ice.

“WELCOME HOME SILVER STREAM AND GUEST,” a pleasant mare voice announced, “SHALL I PLAY PRESET DANTE.PARTY4 AS SCHEDULED?”

“Yes please,” Silver cooed, the jazz quartet sprung to life, the lights dimmed, and the simulated candles began to sparkle and twinkle enchantingly. The air kicked on and a subtle scent of a forest in spring wafted through the room. She turned towards her room and with a smirk continued, “take off your coat and stay awhile, stranger.”

She disappeared around the corner. Dante stood there, utterly unsure what to do other than curse whatever deities of fate that had brought him to this moment when he was as he was. The right and proper thing to do would be to explain that he was largely as illusory as the forest that surrounded them. That in trying to keep her happy he had inadvertently set her down the path of magical addiction.

But he felt horrible just considering the idea. She had gone to all this work, and spending a night in Silver’s arms…

No! He couldn’t keep doing this, as enticing as the lie was. If for no other reason than Silver would realize that under the clothes, under all his carefully managed fluff that her special some pony had the proportions of one of her mare friends.

He was still debating when a slight cough drew his attention. A front hoof clad in a gauzy sheer stocking poked around the corner. When the rest of Silver Stream followed in her dramatic entrance she found Dante standing there struggling to keep his mouth closed.

“Care to dance mysterious stranger?”

Silver Stream coyly blushed and posed in her sheer outfit out of the Canterlot Boutique Nights catalog.

“Miss Stream, I do believe you’re trying to seduce me…,” Dante wryly raised an eyebrow.

“Is it working,” came the replied question that ended with a giggle.

Not even the very strange sensations he was feeling could stop him at this point. Dante lost himself in the moment. Only managing the barest care for keeping Silver from Interacting with his illusion.)

They danced until neither had dancing on the mind. He barely had the presence of mind to get Silver to set Privacy mode on the CHN. Dante promised himself this would be the last time he gave Silver the thing she didn’t know she wanted. In his tired, overexcited state he placed his spell poorly and caught himself with the edge of the effect.

He was no stranger to the effects of his spell. He had caught backlash before from his spells, and once he had gotten tagged as part of a prank. He struggled to focus through the brain-melting pleasure. For a moment he could manage until he felt something odd twist deep inside him and then it was too much as his overloaded neurons found themselves processing sensations alien to Dante’s experience. At that moment, if Silver Stream recognized that there was the voice of another mare shrieking alongside hers she made no sign.

Dante doubted his mare friend was lucid as he tenderly wiped up a little bit of drool from her muzzle. The rubbery feeling in his legs precluded anything other than simply falling into bed next to her. For what felt like forever Dante just cuddled with his special mare and listened to her contented, happy snores.

An hour later his timer chimed and a warning showed in AR from his commlink where it sat on the nightstand. Dante had been disguised all day, and his limit was approaching. In the dark, he slowly rose, frowned, and realized there was nothing left to do but complete the Faustian charade. A note was left, Silver’s memories magically altered, and with a distinct feeling of the wrongness of it all, Dante Haze crept out the door and into the night.

It was a long ride home, each silent mile creeping by. He waited as each maglock disengaged in turn and stepped into the dark room beyond and the chaotic mess of a pony that had moved five times since September. Unfamiliar shadows in unfamiliar corners. There was an emptiness that resonated in it all. He flicked his head.

“Welcome Home,” he sourly greeted himself.

The sacred ritual of secrecy was done.

He discarded the coverings and let the charade fall away. He grabbed the last of the cider Gwynn had gifted him and stood before his mirror, his shimmery white coat and blue mane damp in places with sweat. Turning around he got a good look at what had happened to him this day. A long pause followed as amethyst eyes watered before Dante regained composure.

“Sigh, happy new me day I guess, how does it feel Miss Haze? At what point does this become normal?”

Dante sank to her haunches and opened the bottle of cider, taking a big swig before she continued.

“At what point will you tell Silver Steam that the greatest magic trick ever performed by Dante Haze, illusionist mage mare extraordinaire was to turn a normal, well-adjusted matrix designer into a pleasure magic addicted lesbian without her subject even realizing it?”

Dante mocked herself, but between the swigs that rapidly drained the bottle of cider, a growing iron determination grew. This weirdness had cost her the chance to fully enjoy the best thing that had happened to her in ages. It might cost her more. A part of her dreaded inviting further changes. She no more wanted to add a pair of bat wings, than anything else that happened, but that was far outweighed by how badly she wanted to know why this was happening.

Tomorrow she vowed, licking the last of the cider from her fangs, and staring into the Amethyst eyes of her reflection she was getting to the bottom of this, one way or another.

The following day

'Slurp' Dante reviewed her notes concerning everything she remembered about her earlier visions, while idly rolling the straw from a mostly empty energy drink between her fangs. A message from Silver Stream thanking Dante for the magical evening, the barest hint of disappointment that he couldn’t stay the night with reshoots being ordered the following day. The existence of the message almost as damning as the warning from her Med kit that the last sample for 'Mirror Darkly' was a mere 11% contaminated.

There was no work scheduled for Dante today. At least not the trivial kind. She got to her hooves and walked over to the ritual supplies she had laid out. She paused briefly and felt the tender lumps just behind her shoulders.

“You realize there’s a good chance that you’re going to come out of this with two new limbs…and maybe more,” Dante rhetorically asked herself, raising a hoof to feel the aching bulge on her forehead.

A glance noted the microweave spider tailor drone still in its packaging that had arrived by delivery drone earlier that morning and the pegasus clothing modification kit. Dante sighed wistfully, ideas about halting her metamorphosis were increasingly giving way to more prosaic concerns, like how hard it was going to be to find clothes that fit well. The average pegasus mare tended towards petite, compact, athleticism. Dante, not so much. Oh well, there was nothing left for it.

Once more she read her prepared research about the power stones, Yaklicia et al, and the name she still couldn’t place. 'Who is Tisiphone?' She sat down in the middle of her ritual.

An hour, then two ticked by. Once again her mind wandered beyond space and time. Once again she felt herself fall into infinite space, in the mists occasionally pairs of Amethyst eyes shone from the deep shadows.

“It has returned.”

“It seeks answers.”

“It refuses to see even as it grows more complete.”

Dante listened to the mocking exchange before interjecting.

“Please, I need to understand. I need to know the Interdictor Power Cores, the ones used by Radiant Pine, Danger Close, and the other legendary heroes, as they exist now, and who possess each.

I need to know why I’ve changed, why am I turning into a Night One Alicorn?”

Snickering laughter echoed.

“Funny, it is. Every pony dies three times. First the body. Then the second death comes when there are none left who knew them. Then the final death comes when the name is lost and spoken no more. Forgotten. So then can the reverse hold true? The names have been spoken.”

Dante strained her dream ears, half-heard fragments of whispered danced in the shadowed corners. She made out a few words, 'Interdictor, Radiant Pine, Who is Tisiphone?'

The disembodied voice continued.

“Once spoken, memories locked away for millennia resurfaced.”

Images flickered through her mind of Radiant Pine's triumphal re-emergence set against Chrysalis' battle for Canterlot and Erytora's invasion of Chicago.

“Now all that remains is for the body to return, the full power of what came before to be unlocked.”

In her mind, Dante could feel the Songcrest Meridian and Magewood Circlet thrum with power.

“To what end…,” Dante whispered but the question died on her tongue.

Mist floated up from the void, and in an instant mist became dust. Clogging her lungs and stinging her eyes, she could feel rubble under her hooves, scattered across the tile floor. Her unprotected ears were constantly assaulted by the sounds of gunfire. She squinted through the smoke, seeing a bank of locked deposit boxes, a still closed vault-door, and a gaping hole.

At her hooves were yet more boxes, these ones blasted free of the wall. Many of them deformed by the blast, some more twisted open. Dante could feel the magic flowing from the one nearest her, just at her hooves, she sensed its crimson power; familiar to her own gems, but cruel.

A mare white of coat and blue of mane; known to Dante solely as CS, rushed in through the gap followed closely by another unknown: green, blue, soft, and startled. She began emptying totems, books, jewelry, and gems into a peculiar looking thermos. CS, however, dealt with closed boxes, just a glare and it would fly apart, the contents loaded to her own thermos. Haphazardly they picked up everything they could until the newbie chanced upon the Amulet and it disappeared into a thermos.

Another explosion rocked Dante's senses--- And rain began to fall, dark clouds overhead choked the moon and stars. As her eyes adjusted to the light of softly glowing lanterns, and her ears to the constant thunderous rain in place of the guns; she began to notice corpses. Dozens. Stallions and mares; all shaved of mane and clad in bright orange robes lying still and peaceful on the ancient cobbles. Dante noticed the buildings; barrel tiles and traditional Neighponese architecture; she stood in front of a mountaintop pagoda, cradled by a beautiful- if bloodstained- courtyard.

Suddenly she was interrupted by a creak, and the booming of great doors opening. A unicorn mare; gray coat with a short, sharp, silver mane. Her long black jacket waving in the storm's wind; framed as a shadow by the inviting glow of the pagoda's hall. A half dozen cruel monowire sabers floated like wings over her back, dripping crimson past her own true leathery wings. Dante's eyes strayed past the mare's advance to the interior; to a trio of ponies standing stark and confident in master's robes under a large stone statue. A statue of a mare standing empty hoof on her hind legs; stone bracelets on her fore ankles with a shining blue Sapphire set in her smooth, stone mane.

Dante rushed forward as the doors began to close behind the mare, but it was too far; they slammed shut a moment too soon; only inches from her face---

The thunder of the closing doors echoed into quiet and Dante realized the rain had stopped that she was dry. She turned away from the wall, greeted by a cavernous aircraft hangar. A gold mare stood nearby next to a comically small jet, a large synth wood crate, and a few professional-looking stallions. Guns at their shoulders and mirrored glasses over their eyes. Golden Lilly was her name, Dante knew that well. She began to approach a crate Dante recognized, still splattered with the blood of Yakuza ponies, as a buffalo went to pry off the top with a crowbar.

She reached the crate just as the lid detached and slid to the ground with a clatter. All three of them peered into the box; and found themselves staring into the night sky; pulled down and trapped in the steel. The crescent moon itself rested only feet from her set over the heart of the breastplate, framed by twinkling stars and a Diamond glowing a soft, crystalline misty gray.

The stars called to her whispering sweetly. She could hear their secrets and promises, gazing back to her with contempt. She barely tore herself away---

and looked down at the city surrounding her. Only these weren't buildings, they were ships. Bronze hulls blasted and scorched into cruel shapes, prows buried deep in the steel ground. The stars were so bright, so near, horizon to horizon without falloff they watched her. Corpses of iron suited ponies and twisted steel monsters long-dead coated the plated floor covered thickly by ash and dust undisturbed but for Dante's own hoof prints. The warriors piled toward a massive pillar of black steel and machinery. It stood defiant to the stagnancy, traced by crystal tubes like veins, flickering weakly with golden light. Dante slid her eyes across the pillar taking in as much as she could---

But with a blink, she realized she was tracing the lines of cracked plascrete and the Interdictor was gone.

She blinked, a small cozy cottage surrounded her. A look out the window found an almost unrecognizable version of Canterlot on a mountain in the distance, half built. A rocking sound in the corner drew her attention. She recognized the mare she had last seen running from the Equestria City refugee registration, but the mare was elderly, knitting a jumper sized for a foal. A look back found the stallion, now gray maned, carefully tending a tree laden with fruit.

She didn’t understand, how was this relevant? What had happened to the package the two had been so keen on protecting?

A taxi cart pulled up and an unremarkable Navy blue stallion got out and helped what was clearly his very pregnant wife down to the ground. Another foal tucked in an arm. He saw the elderly stallion and smiled.

“Hey pops, finally got a decent crop on that tree I see.”

“Ah, Junior, good to see ya. Come on in son.”

Dante watched as they entered. The elder mare got up, adjusted her spectacles and went to greet the blue stallion.

“Mom, you look great.”

“Of course I do, now where’s my grandson? Celestia knows you took long enough to come visit us. Thunderhead isn’t that far away.”

The bundle was gingerly handed to the elder mare.

“Oh he’s got your coat, he’s such a precious little thing.”

The elder ponies shared a slight knowing look. The elder mare continued.

“Oh where are my manners, you two must be tired, go freshen up, we'll take care of the little rug rat.”

“Oh you don’t have to do that Mom…”

A stern reply came, “because I sure hope you weren’t about to touch my good furniture with you covered in road dust.”

A snickering laugh came from the pregnant mare who tapped her husband and led him towards a back room. The two elder ponies were all smiles until the two younger ponies had left. Turning abruptly the two elders moved to another room carrying the foal.

“I would feel better if we had told him,” the mare whispered.

“It couldn’t be helped,” the stallion replied, “at some point some pony would have reacted badly.”

The elder stallion cast some sort of weak spell. Dante watched without understanding, until the foal's blue eyes blinked and a faint amethyst glow showed around his irises.

“Good it’s transferred properly,” the elder stallion appreciatively noted.

“25 years,” the elder mare noted, “we’re not going to see it, but how long must this charade go on.”

“Who knows, as long as it takes, centuries? Millennia? It will happen when it needs to happen. Come, there’s nothing more to be done here, and we’ll be missed soon.”

The elder mare picked up the foal and the two walked back to the other room.

“What happens? What is supposed to happen?!”

Dante screamed but the vision didn’t heed her. She blinked and the scene changed.

A tent with a far younger version of the elder mare sat before a half built cottage. The stallion lifted a sling full of bricks up a half wall. The mare played with a navy blue foal in the meager shade of a sapling. A few other cottages were rising around them.

Heads turned as a thumping sound came down the road. A pony in power armor flanked by an Equestria Guild Mage approached, a pony with strange emerald eyes following a short distance behind. The mare pulled the foal close to her, the stallion stopped building. The small group stopped, the crackle of a spell flared then faded. The mage nodded in the negative to the hulking juggernaut and the group moved on, though the green eyed pony stopped for a few hesitating paces and looked at the little family before finally turning and moving on.

The little group was around the bend in the road before the colt’s shrill voice broke the moment.

“Mommy, too tight, you’re hurting me,” the Navy blue foal whimpered.

The mare relaxed. Dante blinked.

The two ponies were in a line in front of a tent set in a field long ago trampled to mud. Behind a board, set on two rocks sat a gruff, unshaven pony next to canvas bags. The blocky crude text on each noting that the Equestrian Relief supplies within were provided under the beneficence of Celestia.

The little family reached the head of the line.

“Papers please…”

It was clear that this was a command rather than a request. The same stallion, now younger still pulled a bundle from his saddlebag and laid it before the pony. After a moment's inspection the pony was less than impressed.

“I don’t know, this certificate from the Mages guild that you’re not some kind of metal spined infiltrator from the planes beyond or bug pony sneak is kinda dodgy.”

“It’s what I was given,” the stallion held his ground.

“Well I’m not implying anything but rules is rules and Mr. Carbon Copy made it clear that orders wuz coming all the way down from the Commissariat Protector himself, Radiant Pine, that anyone without a valid certificate doesn’t get a bag, and doesn’t get registered for resettlement. Especially dodgy filly foals for some reason.”

The stallion sighed and nodded to the mare who scowled but pulled back the blanket to show a navy blue colt foal. The stallion pulled the papers back, looked at them, as he rummaged around in his pack. He put the papers back down on the board, there was the slight sound of a Bit sliding on wood.

“My wife and my foal are cold and hungry, I take it everything is satisfactory?”

The question was low and sullen. The pony considered the change in the situation.

“Well, seeing as how you wouldn’t rate the extra scrutiny this will suffice.”

Dante couldn’t understand how this was relevant. She blinked again.

They were in a canal floating under a ruined bridge. Two boat ponies polled a small craft into a sheltered spot beneath the bridge. A dim lantern provided just enough light to make it clear just how sketchy things were.

“Now, about the second half of our fee,” the cowled pony croaked.

“Yes, yes,” the stallion of the little family stood protectively over the mare as he dug out a small pouch of bits, “for safe passage into Equestria City. You are sure these documents will suffice.”

“Most of em are the real deal. Couple of ponies had some questionable ideas about paying us for our services. Now they don’t need em. Mages Guild certificate was trickier but it'll do. Just head up the stairs and climb over the marked rubble pile. Bit of a drop on the other side but that’s why Pine's minions haven’t caught on. Now get going, we gots another run to make.”

“Hmm, easier than I expected.”

The little family headed up the stairs and into the rubble of Equestria City.

“I can’t believe you gave him all that money,” the mare whispered, “that would have been useful.”

“I gave him the wooden bits painted gold that shopkeep tried to give us as change,” The stallion curtly replied, moving a dagger to a less obvious hiding spot, “I kept the bag with the real bits.”

“Oh.”

“This will do,” the stallion noted a half-collapsed building.

“Do we have too? I hate the idea of being form locked.”

The mare complained bitterly as the stallion wrenched open a door and the two entered the ruined home, only stray bits of moonlight allowed anything to be seen.

“Form locked,” Dante asked perplexed but a cold dread began to coil around her heart.

“It’s the only way, I guarantee you we'll be scanned again. If not today then someday. It’s the only way we’ll avoid detection. Or are you actually suggesting ignoring the Queen’s command because the idea makes you uncomfortable? For all we know we are the last three, there’s been no word of the others, and no word from the general breakout. We may be it, the last guard for our collective future.”

“Alright, alright,” the mare groaned, “but if this is going to be forever then why do I have to be a mare?!”

“It looks better, there’s fewer questions this way as a happy little family. Also, you are Caretaker caste, and she seems to like you,” the stallion seemed defensive.

“Oh, and just because you’re a Soldier you should be the stallion? I bet you’re going to want certain benefits…’ for realism's sake’…as a result. As for the Princess, she hasn’t made a peep because her mother dosed her with venom.”

“Fine, we’ll flip for it, will that make you happy?”

The stallion pulled out a Bit and flipped it, letting it fall to the floor. A grin spread across his face. The mare gave an exasperated moan.

“Great, years of ponies telling me what a beautiful foal I have.”

“Handsome, ponies call colts handsome, besides, you should be honored to take care of our future Queen.”

The mare looked confused, as did Dante at the pronunciation. The stallion took the bundle from the mare and gently unwrapped the outer layer like he was handling some precious artifact.

“The Queen was quite explicit in her instructions, they’ll be looking for her. Better to hide her away in a form they wouldn’t expect,” the stallion noted as he pulled a canister from his bag and unscrewed it.

The stallion withdrew a page written with a complex ritual spell and several streamers printed with characters in a script Dante didn’t recognize. He affixed one to himself, one to the mare, who continued to grouse.

“Oh well, I guess I better get used to this face. How can ponies stand being this ugly?”

“Quiet you,” the stallion edged in a chuckle, “and I’m terribly sorry to do this to you Princess but it’s the only way.”

The stallion shifted and Dante could see what was in the bundle. Her mouth fell open.

“No…,” the whispered denial came.

The bundle stirred and a tiny foal half encased in a cocoon yawned, two tiny fangs glinted in the pale moonlight before the pearlescent coated bug-filly blinked her two amethyst eyes. The stallion moved the first shock of aquamarine hair out of the filly’s face before he finished attaching the slip of paper.

The stallion mouthed a few words in a language that made far too much use of clicks and buzzes for Dante.

“No…no…No” she muttered with increasing alarm.

The stallion could not hear her, “One day, I hope you’ll understand why it came to this.”

The stallion glowed briefly in Amethyst, which swirled down his arm and into the filly, who rapidly shifted appearance. The white turning to Navy blue, legs thickening, her face growing blockier until it appeared that this was a colt one day to be a stallion. The magic faded. The strips attached to the two ponies likewise glowed and then the stallion broke the seal on the final paper scroll.

The writing which appeared to be made from the ground up the dust of a gem of some kind briefly flared and the page burned with amethyst fire. The eyes of all three present briefly shown with faint amethyst light but then faded until it was cold, like the last ember finally extinguished.

“It’s done then,” the stallion sighed, “I hope you set this to right one day, so it wasn’t all for naught…Queen Tisiphone.”

“No DAMN YOU, NO!!!”

Dante screamed her rage but was helpless to stop it. The scene seemed to slow and fade into partial shadow, the only thing that was clear was the foal. In seconds she watched him grow into the stallion she had seen, time, which up till now had been moving in reverse in chunks now moved forward. A slight Amethyst glow lit the stallion, but then passed to the foal last seen in the cottage. He grew, the glow passed to a filly, who grew into a mare, who passed it to another, then another stallion. Each pony flickering by in seconds, the speed growing faster and faster. Dante lost count of the generations.

“Please stop,” she begged but all too soon, she recognized the colors of a farmer pony she had once seen a description of in a family book. Then another, then a mare he had seen an old painting of, then another. Each biting off a chunk of years. Then a stallion she recognized from an ancient photograph that once hung framed on her Great Grandmother’s wall. The glow moved to her Great Grandmother, then to her Grandfather.

Tears rolled down her face as the shift slowed, the glow moving to her Father, and then with almost solemnness, it shifted again, to a little colt she knew all too well. The colt aged and grew and soon she was looking at her face as it had been last summer, save for the amethyst glow that ringed his eyes.

“Not for us to tell it what it is,” the snickering voices invaded once more, “there be others to do that.”

She felt like she was falling, she hit a pedestal she recognized to her horror. Around her were not the school children, but rather ponies of all shapes and colors. She looked down and the last of her cutie mark burned away, her coat changing, two diaphanous wings erupted out of her back. She screamed, unable to keep in the pain, and heard more than saw the gasps as her fangs were visible to all.

“CHANGELING, IT’S A CHANGELING!!!”

The panicked screams began. Dante turned as she felt the thumps of heavy booted hooves. She dove through the doorway as stallions in power armor, marked with the numbers of changelings they had killed, eerily visible against the flames coming from their guns.

“Exterminate!” They yelled in unison, “Suffer not a changeling to live!”

She ran, taking on guise after guise yet always came the pursuit.

“It was a Queen,” came a fresh batch of panicked screams. Instinctively she became a stallion and joined a crowd, but she could feel them closing in, the mages came. She could see them searching. Her camouflage meant nothing in the world of magic. Her shadow was clearly that of herself, not the false lie she wore. To her astral sight, her dark aura burned amongst the ponies.

She refused to die like this. She had mastered most of her body, she could master her spirit. The mages came, Dante pushed her will to her limits, and when she looked down again, she saw the shadow of a stallion. Another among thousands, tens of thousands, millions. In the realm of magic, she was unremarkable as any.

The mages looked and they looked and no matter how hard, she was always someone else. Finally, she left the crowd and found the garden. A moment of peace finally let her catch her breath and remember once more that none of this was real.

A slow clapping greeted her as she changed back.

“Bravo, bravo, it took you long enough, but still well done, we’re almost there.”

“YOU!” Dante screamed at the apparition, who now looked much like her, save out of focus.

“Yes, me!”

“Make this stop!”

“You know I can’t, it was set into motion an eon ago, besides how does one exactly stop themselves from breathing from seeing, or hearing? I’m part of you, the part that’s been squirreled away waiting for a VERY long time.”

“I’m not a changeling!”

“Of course not, don’t be silly, you’re not a changeling at all…”

Dante felt the slightest ray of hope.

“…you’re royalty, the prior Amethyst Queen, your mother was the last, and you are the Queen to come. Ergo, the queen is dead… Long live the Queen.”

The blur bowed.

“I won’t be this.”

“But you’re so GOOD at it. You saved everyone at the Gala, didn’t you? Got them out through the chaos. It was touch and go, but you came through, even if they stole your shiny. Also, you enjoy it, or are you telling me how you didn’t enjoy what you did to Buster, what you’ve wanted to do to Silky, what you’re planning on doing to Speculum. What about all the others you’ve stalked in Touristville?”

“That’s not the same.”

“Oh is it? The prerogative of any apex predator is to choose their own prey. I won’t begrudge you your eccentricities. Keep frolicking with the ponies for all I care, especially the one you like so much but don’t do us the disservice of trying to tape the wool back on your hide and claiming to still be a sheep. We are lions in a world of lambs.”

“I’m not an evil heartless bastard of a Changeling!”

“What does evil have to do with it? Does the rabbit begrudge the wolf his supper? We are ‘evil’ because the ponies say we are. Like many children, they fail to understand that nothing comes quite so free. Magic has returned. A whole new world for the ponies to explore and dominate and reap the riches of…except they forgot there were things in that world, things that they have forgotten they should fear. Such is the price of serendipity. We hunger, we eat. You can claim you won’t but you’ve already made your peace with that part of you. The hunger howls inside you just like it does for all your subjects.

Chrysalis was a fool, Chitina was a fool, our defeat an eon ago was brought about by a blood traitor who turned her back on her own kind, so she could play at being a pony. They almost EXTERMINATED us and congratulated themselves on their victory. The Emerald Hive cheapened themselves and ate the bitter, empty husks of sadness, what wretches. But we learned. The greatest trick a devil can play is to be forgotten. Chrysalis seemed intent on throwing away that advantage, but hope is not yet lost. There are many distractions in this new age, already the ponies have congratulated themselves on their second great victory, though not all. Not all indeed.”

“Radiant Pine?”

“Among others, but yes.”

“They will try again, the same thing they have tried before. To render this world safe for their unwariness. They forget that it is the wolf that keeps the rabbit fast, the deer wary, and the fox cunning. Now decadence and decay have set into a shocking degree. Hunt who you will, but take pride in what you do.”

“I’m not you,” Dante protested.

“The next time you look in a mirror,” the shade leaned in close and pointed to the center of the garden where finally Dante realized a statue of himself was nearly completely covered in grasping vines, “look deep and tell me what you see... is it you, or is it me?”

Dante had no reply, instead, she felt herself fall back towards consciousness. She awoke and immediately had to suppress a scream. She could not bring attention to herself, not like this. If someone told Inquisicion they heard screaming….

She fought the urge to vomit and then realized that her back was throbbing...two searing bolts of pain stabbed her behind the shoulder blades. She fought to keep her hooves under her, and looked back to see two thick drops of blood running down her coat. Panic hit her, bloodstains would be almost as bad as screams. She lurched into the shower a half step before she felt something give way in her back.

She bit down hard and a small spray of blood hit the shower wall as a bulging mass emerged from under her skin. She locked her jaw as the sensation repeated. They felt huge but really were only about six-inches long. Still, Dante was in no position to admire them as they slowly unfurled and began to harden. Two glittering aquamarine wings, vaguely like those of the pegasi, but diaphanous…insectoid. With the last of her strength, Dante half turned on the water, which weakly began to pulse. Her wings twitched and scattered a constellation of droplets that caught the light. The red drops coating the walls began to wash away, but not before they started to turn to bluish green ichor.

The Queen of the Amethyst Hive had succeeded in her first, greatest feat, returning from a kind of death…It was an inauspicious reentry such as it was, with her lying in a shallow puddle of water thinly mixed with her own blood. Exhaustion claimed her with her resources, physical and mental spent. She stared up at the ceiling light through tear-filled eyes and passed out. Her cutiemark was barely more than a suggestion of a smudge, the dome on her forehead occasionally flickered with amethyst fire, and the only other thought going through her head was simple…

She was hungry.

Author's Note

Game Notes: With it being largely telegraphed that the CMC was behind the museum hit and now were targeting the Alicorn Amulet, the rest of the team balked at Silky Sheet's (PC) offer to steal the Alicorn Amulet from the Solari Foundation using their annual Gala as cover. This caused no small amount of consternation for Silky Sheets and set Glass Darkly (PC, POV) off on a scheme to steal the Amulet alongside a separate job provided by the fixer edIT to extract a prominent para-botanist. For that purpose Glass Darkly arranged a fake amulet, and stole the ID of a Solari manager. This all went to hell quite quickly, complicated by the CMC team, with its losses from the museum replaced blasting their way into the Solari vault. The para-botanist was extracted, but again with a narrow escape.