The Reign of Asmodeus

Chapters

Chapter 1
Chapter 2

Chapter 1 Author's Note

Gonna make this quick. This is a prequel to A Demon's Loss is a Mortal's Gain. You do not need to read the main story to understand this one. This will follow a base of the comic's explanation of the young villains. This will still follow the main events of the show, the comic just happens to add some interesting lore to a few. Cosmos for one. I couldn't obtain all the comics and didn't agree with some of it, since their pasts weren't deeply explored in the show, I decided to dabble in some of them myself. This takes place two thousand years before the show. This was before Equestria was even founded. Yes, this will show young Celestia and Clover the Clever. Have you ever wondered why she became an alicorn? What was so horrible, the Elements were even created? Where the Tree of Harmony came from? I attempt to answer these questions.

Chapter 1

Art by: Cyonix

Stones in the road of life are nothing but bumps. Instead of tripping over them, pick them up. Use every single one to build your castle.

—Unknown

It was done.

A smoldering inferno engulfed the night sky. It sprung with a gaping maw of biting flames that consumed the stone-brick walls. The breath of such a monstrous blaze coming from its devouring jaws was truly the face of the devil. It ate away the wood that once made up the walkway I’d wander on throughout the hour of the wolf. It swallowed the behemoth flags that were once proud and stout. They dolefully swayed in ashen smoke, signaling the death of a nation, ironically slumping at half-mast.

Was I happy? No.

Did I enjoy the smells of wrath?

Did I glower at this kingdom while reveling in its fall?

No. To lustfully yearn for this destruction was odious. All this brought me was fraught silence for what was to come.

All I could do was watch.

I heard them, you know. I heard them pleading. I heard the smoke snuff the air from their lungs. I could even hear the patter of their tears hitting the ground.

I heard it all.

The grief would come in waves. First, a small one that would sluice over me. When the first scream turned into a harrowing manifold of voices, the wave rolled into a tsunami strong enough to push the unfallen tears from my eyes.

They were burning. Ones who loved me, those who hated me, and all those in between. I would not spare my soul the torment and saunter into the night like the craven prince I felt. Why?—

—Because I did this.

I would punish myself.

I'd listen to the voices, and know them by name. From the grass-stained workers in the fields to the nobles mourning their melted gold.

I'd hear their last words, for no one else ever would. The fire was not picky with its hunger. No amount of nobility would cease its rage. Every voice would beg for water, just a drop, to wet their parched tongue. The carmine face of death was merciful to no one.

Every mewl, every whimper, would eventually grow as silent as the grave.

So, I hung my head. No one else would mourn them tonight. I'd clutch the glinting crystals in my paw so hard, they'd cut my flesh like blades. I'd suffer, even if it were a minuscule. A million sorrows would not stop this, a trillion tears would not bring them back. I'd know; I shed them.

Yes, I killed them. Yes, I brought this blistering fate. Did they all deserve it?

No.

I had taken many swords to the heart for them. Betrayal never came from my enemies; I never turned my back to them. They stood in front of me, the ones I cherished stood behind me. Backstabs never tucked their daggers in your chest, they happened from within your shadow. The hilt of the blade was in the hooves of someone I loved.

Now, they felt the same blade against their back, but I did not wish it upon them. Not all of them deserved what came.

One had gone to sleep on her pillow tonight. Kissed by her beloved father, the kingdom smothered in his embrace, safely tucked away in their garden of Eden.

I was the serpent that invaded their garden. I brought with me temptation in a perfect world. A lust for power no mortal should ever wield.

I am Coeus. I am The Titan of the North.

I was hope…

….I was life.

Now, I am only death.

I wondered. In every story, there was a hero. The protagonist was usually some strapping young stallion. His hair in some flamboyant style that I could only describe as a flowing “whipped-dream.” They were all written in the same cliché manner. With the painfully unoriginal devil-may-care attitude that the young mares would dare to call charismatic.

Being reckless and arrogant was far from winsome to me. As I sat here, thumbing through the wrinkled paper of this romance—I couldn’t help but snort at the lot of it. The novel had made it exceedingly clear that he was a rather amorous Casanova. It rambled on and on about such details to the point it became redundant. Then, he’d go charging headfirst into some monster-ridden cavern wearing completely unrealistic raiment.

Steel-clad plates laden with pounds worth of chainmail, yet he could get from the town square of a castle to the cavern in less than a day’s trot.

Oh, but wait, the dragon that had previously seized the princess happened to be waiting for him inside. Yet, shockingly, the serpent’s wits were as sharp as a sphere. His boots plodding into the cave sure didn’t seem to alert the beast. Nor the clanging of his loose armor. I’ve worn chainmail. It did not have the tranquility of the stillness in a graveyard. It was quite loud.

Imagine a symphony of grating metallic sounds grinding against each other in the young hours of the night.

I rolled my eyes and leaned back into my lounge chair. The leather groaned. There was a sound of my claw flicking the page over.

Ah, now here’s a treat.

With a bout of destructive fire, the beast lunges at the hero with claws and teeth bared. The true meat of the story was why I kept reading. The yawn-inducing banter between the obviously interested princess and her knight was mediocre buildup.

The climax was the true test of his abilities.

A sigh gushed from my nose. Disappointment.

Yes, of course, he beheaded the dragon with one fell swoop of his sword. The princess's batting eyelashes and seductive pleas for saving must have embedded his muscles with iron. Completely believable.

Was this honestly what mares drooled over nowadays? Did this really warrant a locked door and smuggled candles at night? The only one who should feel abashed by these pages is the one who wrote them with confidence.

I gently closed the novel, lazily tossing it onto the nightstand beside me. It landed with a rattling thump on the glass. I massaged my temples.

That was far from an adventure. The author spent a great deal describing their roll in the hay. Vividly, I might add. The same passion failed to pass over into any other scene they wrote on these blasted pages. None of it made any bloody sense.

What was the lesson? What character development was there? He’s the same stallion from the first page. Now he’d whisk his prize back to the grotto where they’d have at it for the remaining chapter.

The door hinges groaned. I saw a small wisp of a girl part the door open with a nudging muzzle. Within the smudgy yellow light of the hall lanterns, she paused. She was a unique creature, her eyes a ruby sheen. They glittered when sweeping the fire-lit bedroom. Her gaze swelled, then thinned, when gliding over me.

She grunted, pushing the door open wider with her shoulder. Her brows tweezed—waspish tongue at the ready.

“…Hey! What…why? You can’t be in here—”

“—Sure I can. The door was unlocked. The fire a healthy blaze, the tea you left still overflowing to the brim—”

“—That doesn’t mean you can just saunter in here unsummoned, Coeus!”

It was funny, really. Our mother had hounded her throughout years for raising her voice. ‘Twas a pesky habit for a princess, she’d claim. I found it charming, mother, found it a disturbance. One that would cause my mother to wrinkle her nose every time her grating voice would hurl down the halls. If I really nettled her, my sister’s voice would shrill so high it would crack.

You’d have throbbing ears for at least a fortnight.

I feigned my apologies. “Oh, I must have mistakenly assumed an unlocked door was an invitation.”

“It was unlocked awaiting my return. That is all you will hear.”

Her speech was rather closed off. It was much more formal and opposed to conversation. Instead of warmth, it had seldom venom.

She was not usually like this.

I tutted. “You’re quite bitter. I only wish to know where your stroll had led. I doubt it was to wet a thirsty tongue.”

I traced the rim of the tea with a claw. Her eyes hooded. When she wouldn’t budge, I picked it up and took a drink. I made sure to slurp the beverage with mocking theatrics. She cracked a smile, but it was soon overturned by ire. She jutted a paw out the door.

“You’re bothering me at twilight with these annoyances? You’re just itching for a fight, aren’t you? Get out. Leave me be!”

I swallowed. “Mmmm, this brew shouldn’t go to waste. You hardly ever leave a drop left. What warded away your interest in it?”

“Not thirsty.”

Her answer was curt. She didn’t appreciate it when others snooped in her business. Usually, her heated gaze would melt most resolves to get to the bottom of it. Well, if that someone didn’t happen to be me.

“So, you aren’t thirsty. That rules out wandering the halls for a glass of water. Did you want some fresh air?”

“Perhaps. What is it to you?”

So, she wanted to play this game, did she? A game of verbal chess? Oh, hum, the cold shoulder she gave was as if she had used a pawn to intercept a knight. It was comical but hardly strategic. It was satisfying to counter. I’d physically spell out her loss with an “L.”

“I don’t blame you. The books you’ve been reading have the tendency to stuff up the air. Ah, I see now. That is why they call them steamy romance novels. But of course!”

Her eyes rounded.

Down fell her pawn. I could hear the gratifying swivel of her piece sliding out of bounds. Was a bit of a dirty play on my part, but it wouldn’t be chess without mental gymnastics, now would it?

“I…what books?”

Simple, yet cheesy to play the hand of ignorance. I’d wager with heavy coin her king was open. I was quite snug in my position. She was beginning to limp.

“I am so glad you asked. I’ve taken the liberty of skimming through this fine piece of literature I found abandoned under your pillow—”

I swiped the book off the stand and wagged it coyly. My sister’s face became a significantly lighter shade, near ashen, when she saw the title.

“—Quite erotic, I dare say."

She shuffled messily to the chair I was sitting on, nearly tripping trying to reach me. Her attempt to snatch the novel from my claws was futile. I had a grasp on it similar to an iron leghold.

I clicked my tongue while she leapt furiously toward me. With my other paw, I pushed away her cheek. Her claws swam viciously in the air trying to pry the darn thing from my grip.

“Give it. Giveitgiveit—”

“—Let’s read a passage, shall we?”

Her body became as stiff as a corpse. Her struggle came to a standstill while her eyes enlarged to the size of silver platters.

Resting the spine of the book in the pit of my paw, I cracked it open with a flick of my wrist. I then divided the pages with two parting claws.

“Ah, yes. Here we go. Chapter fourteen, the lover’s grotto—”

“—Coeus! No, dad will kill me!”

“—He plunged—”

“—SHHH. Someone will hear you!”

“—feverishly and—”

“—STOP it!”

I cropped an eyebrow. “Are you going to stop being aloof and tell me the truth?”

She swallowed thickly. Her paw was still coiled around my forelimb. I could feel a nervous squeeze as her eyes shot toward the floor.

She nodded.

Checkmate.

Without a word, I nudged the book toward her. She took it with a soured glower.

“…I snuck out. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

“Clearly,” I retorted in a chuckle.

I heard a groan. “You know how…how…dreary these walls can be. The air is stale, I’ve paced the stone so much I’ve worn them, I’ve even named every dust bunny! Father can’t honestly believe I’d stay in here chained up like…like a…mutt! So I went out. Just for a little while. There was something that Cosmos had mentioned—"

“—Oh! I should have known. Yes, this was obviously Cosmos’s idea. It had her scent nuzzled all over it.”

She deadpanned. “I thought you wanted to hear the truth. If you keep interrupting me, we’ll be here all night.”

I relaxed into my chair. “Yes, yes. My apologies. Continue.”

“Sure, this won’t sound exciting, but neither does counting the cracks in the stone. Six thousand, eight hundred, and twenty-seven—by the way—”

I hiked an eyebrow.

“—Nothing could be more tedious. I had enough. The village colts sought to scare the bulls in the field. It’s harmless. I rarely interact with anyone other than the maids that come to vent their grievances. Even they voice how utterly boring and unfair this is!”

“And so, you decided to slip out while the kingdom slept.”

I saw her flinch. “….That would be the gist of it.”

I hummed, my claws drummed on the leather armrest. “It may be controversial, but his intentions are out of love. He does so out of protection. I know you are stir-crazy, but you must understand the risks—"

“—I can handle myself! I’m not porcelain! I won’t shatter the second I step out of this castle. You need to stop coddling me!”

I reeled. “Pinkamena, come now. You obviously know what I’m talking about. You are absolutely correct. You aren't porcelain. You're something that causes hostility. Not everyone agrees with such an anomaly—"

“—An anomaly?” Her laugh was dry and short. “Do you mean a fiend? A demon? A hellhound? Don’t dance around it. Go ahead, don’t mince your words. Do you believe the rumors?”

I swallowed thickly. "I didn’t…I didn’t mean it in that way, sister. I just—”

I stopped. My eyes were pulled toward the fire leaping at the bricks keeping it secure.

“You’re a creature of fire. The world fears what it doesn’t understand. Rumors can’t be helped. I went through the same thing. I’m different too, you know. It takes time to earn trust. Call it blasphemy if you will, but until the citizens can release their iron grips on pitchforks, father insists you stay in these walls.”

I understood her zeal for freedom. This was the time to explore, live, and navigate the labyrinth of life. She was robbed of this. Indeed, our father kept her tightly guarded with lock and key. She couldn’t take a stroll without a cadre of armored shields revolving around her. It was quite the menacing sight to behold in the town square.

The romance novels, the sneaking out, the lying and defensive arguing—relatively normal for a sixteen-year-old.

I wasn’t angry, far from it.

I was nervous.

She wasn’t ready for this world. With excitement and exploration came far more dangers than I was allowed to disclose.

My face fell.

Pinkamena didn’t deserve this.

She should be free, but she was shackled to this room. Although she wouldn’t complain too much, the reason behind it was much darker than she realized. It was a secret I was forced to take to the grave.

“…Coeus?”

I visibly shook my head. I couldn’t allow myself to drown in those thoughts.

“I’m sorry. My thoughts were elsewhere for a moment.”

Pinkamena’s head tipped. My mind was a mystery to her. In fact, it was a mystery to even me. Sometimes it acted on its own accord.

I gave her a smile to sweeten the mood, perhaps one too saccharine. “I’ll admit. You’ve convinced me. I draw the line when the maids that scrub the grime off floors sympathize with you. If even they wouldn’t trade you lives, this has gone too far. Why don’t I have a talk with father. He may allow us to explore the hot springs.”

Her eyes were radiant with glee. “Finally! I was going crazy! I’ll send a letter to Cosmos and the others! They’d love to come.”

I winced at her suggestion. I despised those delinquents. Cosmos was a menace that got away with far too much, despite leaving a cookie trail. If that wasn’t enough, Pinkamena would join in her affairs. Tirek, when in solitary company, was a canny and timid fellow. When trailing behind his friends, he renounced his demeanor, and instead, played voice of reason.

In every wolf pack, there was one who bared their fangs far too often. That was Chrysalis, the creature with the spit of a viper. The three of them I could handle—the fourth? I would argue.

I wanted to take her out on our lonesome without an audience, but having her friends along wouldn’t be the end of the world. The hot springs were a secluded place up in the mountains; untouched by the hoof of pony kind, a perfect place to recollect yourself in solitude. A beautiful place to lecture. I did rather love my lectures.

“Alright, small one.” I placed my paw on her head, ruffling the roses threaded within the locks. She scrunched her nose. “Off to bed with you. Promise not to bounce off into any more adventures until I can get father to loosen his reins.”

She playfully rolled her eyes. “An attempt will be made. No more.” She gave a smile, teeth as pearlescent as glinting snow. An uplifting thing…her smile. Infectious as the plague.

I returned it.

I pushed myself out of the chair and popped my back. Sitting there for hours on end had knotted my spine into a mess.

As I reached for the doorknob, I threw parting words over my shoulder.

“Oh, Pinkamena?”

She hummed, gently placing her book under her pillow.

“Prince Egon dies a gruesome death by the teeth of that dragon. Horrid ending, I must say. After all they’ve been through. Tragic.”

I turned and nearly pelted down the hall. Her strident ‘WHAT’ made me snort back a laugh. I wouldn’t be a brother if I didn’t reprise my role as the thorn in her side. Yes, I looked out for her, but I’d also make her pop a blood vessel from time to time. I saw her bookmark. She hadn’t had the pleasure of reading that part.

It would take her a long time of frantic reading to realize I had fibbed.

Classic book spoilers. They were the best way to vex your sibling.

The winding halls were traced by moonlight. It casted a thin veil of silver onto the drapes and columns. Open windows poured in a brisk draft. They overlooked flickering torchlights in the village below. In winter they were sealed up with portable shutters and removed for fresh air in the summer.

I placed my paws over the window, hanging them above mossy gargoyles that crowned our walls. The only sounds were occasional laughter from the tavern and trees rustling in the wind.

A quiet night. I saw a soft torchlight dance on the stone walls nearing the corner. I turned an eye to see my father's advisor, Maverick, holding a candle. He hesitated when our eyes crossed paths.

“Ah, Coeus. I was just about to visit your chambers.”

“What gives me the honor?”

“No need for pleasantries, boy. They are simply matters that require your observation. We shall not speak here. Untrustworthy ears may be lingering.”

I said nothing. I only gazed in his direction.

He continued. "Your father summons you to his study early sunrise. He seems quite rattled by his recent findings. Better save your pleasantries for his presence.”

With that, he took his leave. We barely exchanged conversation during the years I’ve been alive. Maverick was an acquired taste. He never indulged in any activities other than hugging my father’s backside. The only time he’d ever come down from his perch was when my father sent him. Otherwise, he’d remained shackled to his quill and inkwell, wasting away the summer with paperwork and taxes.

The light was snuffed out by the return of nightfall. I peered back out of my window. I hated when my father “summoned” me.

Could he not spend a minute to talk with his son? Was it too much to ask for a sliver of his time? Oh, perish the thought.

I knew what he wanted. It spoiled the night for me. With bleary eyes, I wandered back to my chambers for rest. Gods know I needed it.

Obedient as the early bird and the sun, I arrived within the forbidden foyer of the castle. Here, not even my sister would follow. Two guards watched me through a hollow helm before sliding out of my way.

I opened the gilded doors leading to my father’s meeting hall. Obviously heavily guarded for a reason, very few have their ears graced with the knowledge passed throughout these chambers. The walls themselves could disclose bountiful advice.

A long table outstretched itself in the middle of the room. In front of each pillar stood guards dressed in slinky chainmail. They held lean spears within their hooves, pointed heavenward, without a twitch.

My father, known as the peerless King Blaive, was brooding with a pipe clenched between his lips. I could smell the scent of smoke wafting in the air. Spread out in messy piles were waterlogged scrolls with bleeding ink revealing their written secrets from behind.

Councilman Maverick, my father's closest advisor from his council, The Order, was peering at them from behind an eyeglass.

“…Your Grace, some of these seem to consort with enemies overseas. They are addressed to tribes that welcomed us with uncordial hooting and threats of hostility. It bemuses me; a few even appear to be responses from the savages. I can theorize that they converse with unfriendly lands for an uprising. Why else would they spread these records and talk in ridiculous tongues for communication.”

Blaive slammed his hoof onto the table, causing a mug with frothy ale to tip over and spill.

He took out his pipe with magic. “That means we didn’t count every head. One escaped.”

Gliding his hoof across a scroll, he flattened it, and jabbed the tip of his pipe into the paper.

“This is word-from-word a witness report on The War of Titan's Hollow. From how it writes, I believe they scoured from behind. Soldiers in front. Twenty lines, thirty soldiers each, the final line a full meadow back. Without far-eyes, this description glories an impossible feat. Scouts were positioned in the rear. Eagle-eyed one of those snakes must have been—stealing away into the night while the calvary mowed down their brethren.”

Maverick wet his pudgy lips before mumbling over the scribbles. “Yes…I came to the same conclusion. No mere stallion has the acute precision of a scout’s eye. By their wording, they could catch a flea on your collar. They described garnet drops on our general’s pauldron. They even printed an exact replica of Garrette the Ironbane’s chest plate carvings. This stallion must have had a one-of-a-kind keen eye.”

Blaive took his pipe from his lips and thwacked it on the scroll a few times. “These are hoof printed. The same tidings. Different styles of hoof writing. There’s a transcript. The rats are hiding in the bowels of these lands somewhere.”

“Your Grace, shall we send an escort of soldiers?”

Placing his pipe back within his clenched teeth, he nodded. “We failed to find the originals, only bloody copies. They were not distributors. Their encampment was foiled in the marsh. I can only assume they’d shy from our territories; it would be foolish to hide in enemy land. They have an outpost. One caped by wilderness and unclaimed hills.”

My eyes wandered to the frayed edges of cloth.

It was written with smeared ink. Droplets of blood were sprinkled across the surface... They were no doubt torn from the hooves of one of the fugitives.

I cleared my throat. My father looked up with his eyes, not removing his head’s position.

"Ah, yes, Coeus." He rolled his wrist before flicking it toward a chair. "Sit."

“I feel more comfortable standing.”

I heard the leather of Maverick’s jerkin groan when he turned to look at my father.

The silence in the room tightened. Blaive’s pipe clattered against his teeth as he adjusted it within his lips.

“Very well.”

I let out a breath. I rather hated the scent lingering on the scrolls. Sitting with my chest bumping the edge of the table would only give me a strong whiff of it. I could smell the acrid fumes of ash and metallic remains on the paper.

Even if I was bothered by the remanence from their spoils of war, if my father demanded that I sat, I would sit.

My shadow rolled over the columns. It flickered when invading the warm light of candles. I stood in front of my father. Maverick stood near my right by the round of the table.

“Do you have an idea as to where these vagabonds are hiding with their tails between their legs?”

I lowered my eyes. There were still coins placed on top of scrolls, alongside the worn leathered notebooks and maps with rips and tears.

Silver coins. A high currency, emblazoned with an unclaimed symbol of a regal lion.

“This isn’t currency from any allying kingdom of ours. Not of Tornbury, Wolfshore, or even the Changelings.” I stopped, flipping over a coin with the tip of my claw. “In fact, silver mines are dry here in the west. This here—”

I flicked a dagger, watching it spin aimlessly.

“—Is forged out of pure silver. It would be a crime here to waste silver on a blade. I can only imagine they'd be brazen enough to do so if they had plenty to spare. The miners have voiced that silver can be found on the other side of the mountain pass. King Vorak had brought chests of it last time he came to present his allegiance.

“His kingdom is nestled in a nook within the slopes. We use bits of bronze and gold as currency. These coins had to come from over the mountain where the veins are rich. I can imagine these transcripts are being printed close to a settlement beyond where we’ve mapped.”

“It is clearly an economic currency. One with value farther east.” Blaive noted, skimming through the coins with a meticulous eye. “These lands are uncharted by our colonizers. Far too barren. Although possible ground meant for tilling has been spoken of, we haven’t had the pleasure of sending a recent campaign to confirm it. Too many resources wasted after they came back empty-hoofed.”

“Do you believe a small fort has been established in the mountain’s east?” Maverick asked.

“That would be suicide. Nothing grows. There is no farmland.”

“Well,” I began. “King Vorak has no ocean and happily pays us handsomely for a shipment of fish. We suffer in silver. He returns the favor by showering us in it. This is currency. They are being paid for goods. Whether it’s stone, materials, or extra hooves. Their trade relationship appears to have plenty of silver, which is only rumored to exist beyond the mountains.”

Blaive slammed his hoof on the table. “Damn. The mountains will swallow a unit whole. Frostbite follows the forty-foot snows. No mulled ale to unchill the soldier’s bones—too heavy to ferry, and without it their spirits wane. Wyverns claim the skies, with talons that can pick a colt’s body clean. We can spare some soldiers, but there will be casualties. We need good abled navigators to weave through the wilds. We must be sparing, we have little.”

“We could send Trotting Hoof. He’s a strong and lean stallion, one who helped us navigate The War of Titan’s Hollow.”

"I am aware," Blaive mumbled. "We already sent him to map out the coal mines. His two sons are cut from the same cloth. They are equally as skilled as their father.”

“Trotting will deny. His eldest is far too young.”

Blaive swat his hoof. “Pay his weight in gold. We have plenty of it.”

“Father?” I asked. His eyes swiveled toward me.

He awaited my question with a raised brow.

“Maybe it would be wise to allow my sister some time away from Everglade.”

Maverick nodded with a bit of derision. “I agree with Coeus. Your daughter has a pesky habit of sneaking out and eyeballing things she shouldn’t.”

I withheld my laugh. There was once a time Pinkamena and Chrysalis had snuck into Maverick’s private bathhouse. They got a good peek at his unmentionables, and when he chased after them, Cosmos cracked a towel. She meant to hit his chest. That was not what happened.

He was further enraged when the word “shriveled” was brought up when they had to confess.

“I know of her behavior. You would be wise to hold your tongue when you speak in such a manner about my daughter.”

He bowed his head. “I apologize.”

A puff of smoke snaked out of my father’s pipe. “Maverick may be crude, but he does have an argument. Pinkamena has been rather bold lately. She won’t stay put—”

“—Then maybe it would be healthy for the poor teen to spread her wings. She’s been so antsy she’s counted the cracks in the walls.”

“Yes,” Blaive hummed, drawing a solution by blanky staring in front of him. “My daughter shall not be exposed to this if it comes down to greeting their outpost with steel. If we happen to find their fort, no doubt hostility will be met. Where do you suppose she should spread her wings, Coeus?”

"Further west. Past Wolfshore, near the hot springs. The land is seldom trodden on by reoccurring hooves. There are always bannercolts eager to welcome. Their lord is a brother to you.”

“Shall I send a raven to Lord Avery?”

“Yes. Have him prepare a room for my daughter. She shall not go anywhere unaccompanied. Send twelve soldiers, five ahead to scout the road.”

He gestured to one of his guards posted next to the door. The soldier nodded and reached for the knob.

“Coeus?” My father asked. I turned my head. “Do not allow Pinkamena to wander off. Do not fail me.”

I felt my chest constrict. There was a glacial feeling that settled on my shoulders.

“I never have.”

He gave me a nod of agreement.

I have never failed my father. It was almost as if I couldn't. Whatever he asked of me, it was done. Something about that…had always concerned me. Why couldn't I deny my father? Did I yearn for his favor that badly?

"You are dismissed," Blaive said with a wave of his wrist.

I did a sharp turn and exited the room. The guards opened the doors for me before I could even pass through. I heard the hinges groan before it gave a solid click behind me.

I sighed in relief. I hated war. My nose had been soiled from the smell of it. If I ever picked up a blade within an eternity, it would be too soon. It was a pandora's box of problems. As much as my father tried to hastily cover up our history, I believed it would always haunt us. After the blood was washed away, there would always be bones.

I wanted no part in it. Pinkamena’s retreat would give me an excuse to drown myself in the smells and sounds of nature. I rather liked hearing the lapping water of creeks accompanied by birdsong. The trilling, the chirps of crickets, while under the cape of sunlight—I felt rejuvenated by it. Well, when Pinkamena allowed me to bathe in the silence.

My lip notched. Right, her friends.

It wasn’t the first time I had taken a trip with them. Cosmos was a prankster. There was always something she had up her sleeve to pull. Chrysalis was just annoying. She was also a royal, the daughter of King Cercus and Queen Arista. Yet, she just couldn’t wait to be queen. So, she acted like she was…all the bloody time.

Prince Tirek was a quiet one. I appreciated it. He was the runt of the litter. He was often brushed aside and overlooked for his more sociable younger brother, Prince Scorpan.

As my claws clacked on the marble flooring, I scanned the village overlooking the forests beyond the walls. Braziers added a transparent trail of smoke flittering into the sky, while mares created fresh blankets from cotton on their spinning wheels. The cheers of children taunting the bulls in the pasture rang throughout the castle.

Even from afar, you could hear their guffaws as they were chased.

A flag fluttered loudly, and not long after, I felt the breeze whisk through my mane. It brought with it the scents of baking bread.

Everglade was indeed a paragon of beauty.

It was all a façade.

The civilians were bewitched by the illusion.

They never knew starvation or heard the clashing of swords—nor the screams of dying—

I stopped. Again and again, my mind wandered into the forbidden crevices of banished memories. I didn’t realize how desperately I needed this retreat. It would give me some respite from this plague of thoughts emerging.

I turned around a corner, and without a sliver of a warning, I smacked straight into someone. I hardly budged, but the poor soul was nearly knocked unconscious.

Pinkamena was thrown backward. She tried to grab the decorative drapes to steady herself, but failed. Her claws were unsheathed with a cry of surprise. Instead of catching herself, she ripped the cloth from the walls and entangled herself within them.

The drapes and the golden bar it was attached to came tumbling down. With a loud clatter and a dull thump, Pinkamena was buried underneath. I watched the bar clock whatever was below the mess. The cry of pain indicated that it had hit a part of my sister’s body.

I watched the silhouette of her head slowly climb upwards in search of a hole.

“…Ouch,” she groaned while shifting underneath the material.

I helped her find an opening, gently tugging the drapes off her head. Her mane suddenly shot up like quills from the static.

Still holding the drapes, I addressed her. “You need some meat on your bones. You went flying.”

Her paw punched my chest. "Be quiet. You're ten feet tall and weigh as much as a bunyip. That's like a bird flying into Everglade’s front walls.”

“…Splat?” I quipped.

She punched me again. This time much harder and with enough venom to leave a sting.

I tenderly rubbed the throbbing spot on my chest while she climbed out of her nest of drapes.

Kicking off the last of it, she continued with a rolling paw, “soooo…what did he say?”

I scratched my cheek. “Beg your pardon?”

Her eyes suddenly flickered and she stamped a paw. "You know what I'm talking about. Stop being a piece of cow dung!"

“Alright, alright. A tad harsh. You could try thanking your so-called manure of a brother for getting father to cut your chains and let you out for a spell.”

Her eyes went from dark to enlightened in a millisecond. “He did?!”

“Mhmm. Maverick is sending a raven to Lord Avery as we speak. He will prepare for our arrival in just a few day—”

A raven flew into the open windows. It smacked into the walls, bare of drapes, and then collapsed onto the ground motionlessly. Tied to its back was a letter sealed in a cylinder container.

“—I pray that wasn’t our bird.”

Pinkamena gently prodded at the raven with a claw. Its wing twitched before popping back up with a flail of its wings. It refreshed its vision with a spasmodic shake of its head, before hurriedly hopping toward my sister. It turned its back and allowed for the letter to be taken.

Pinkamena untied the message. She then dumped the paper from the container into an open paw.

I awaited her response.

“…Chrysalis’s hoof-writing is nothing short of grotesque.”

“This is an unmarked parchment. How do you know for sure it was her?”

Pinkamena offered the letter so I could view it. “Only one creature can call me an idiot and a moron within the same sentence.”

“Ah.”

She resumed her silent reading. The raven cawed stridently in the meantime. I flinched with every squawk.

“Well, she accepted. King Cercus is apparently making her go. Something about ‘getting along with your allies’ or whatever she scribbled down.”

Something fluttered down onto the cobblestone railing that lined the open windows. Once the raven tucked in its feathers, it began preening them without a moment’s rest. On its back was the official seal of Tornbury; a gilded ram embedded with rhinestones. They were certainly harvested from the centaurs' legendary mines.

I would assume that was the response from King Vorak and his son, Prince Tirek.

Pinkamena approached the bird and gently untied the letter. I brought my gaze over to Chrysalis's raven, who was still reeling. The poor thing was molting, probably from stress. It was worked to a nearing grave. The changeling never shied away from sending mountains of letters when it suited her. The amount of paper required would issue the death of an oak copse. For creatures intuned with nature, she didn't seem to care much for the trees. Or the birds.

“…Hey, Coeus?”

I quietly turned to my sister who had the letter dangling from her paw.

“Cornbread recipes come easy for you, right?”

“Just need some milk, eggs, and white corn. I believe I can whip something up.”

“Good. Good. Tirek really desires cornbread…for some unspecified reason.”

Without warning, something smashed into my face. My cry was muffled. There was a puff of feathers, and a shrill squawk, before a third raven slid off my face and plopped onto the ground. Belly-up and motionless, the bird remained as still as the grave on the floor.

I rubbed at my nose bridge. “I’ll assume that was an accident, Cosmos.”

The bird was levitated in a bed of green magic. Pinkamena cradled the bird within the nook of her forelimb before again reading the final letter from her friends.

There was a giggle. “I don’t believe an accident was intended.”

“Sister?”

“Hmm?” She responded, looking up from the paper.

“I loathe your friends.”

“That’s fair.”

I wiped the stray feathers from my mane. “To avoid ravens flying into me like arrows—I’ll go elsewhere. It seems everything is in order on your side. I’ll gather some supplies at the market and begin baking. Wilds or not, I plan on having a feast. Not one of mulberries and spring water. I care little for roughing it in the wilderness.”

She fell back onto her haunches with a joyous smile gracing her lips. “You do that. I’m going to pack. I'm so excited. It's been moons since we’ve stretched our legs!”

I reflected her grin. “Indeed.”

I didn’t think she heard me. She dreamily gazed into the three letters huddled within her paws. I was enraptured by her glee. My sister had been pent up with the desire to escape her royal prison. The brevity of her teenage years would soon mature into adulthood. I hated how much she was missing out on because of our father. She didn’t have long to just enjoy being a love-stricken, fantasy-enthralled teenager.

I had left Pinkamena to her detailed planning long ago. I emerged into a spotlight of sunlight flooding our balconies. Without any eye strain, I could observe the peasants thronging the winding dirt roads.

Some were beating out rugs from open windows, while others dusted their porches. It seemed the grapevine had whispered into the village ear. Royalty would grace Everglade with their presence. The commoners were bustling with energy from the rare news. Not a scrap of hay would be found untidy.

It was a shame I couldn’t witness the sudden change in atmosphere. It wasn’t disclosed that I would be the one cooking, but it would be assumed. Chrysalis couldn’t find her way around a kitchen if you had a sword in her back, Tirek just didn’t want to, Cosmos would eat the ingredients and call it a day—and my sister burned everything she touched.

We’d starve if it was left up to them.

With a final gaze toward Everglade’s community, I ducked back inside to begin my preparations.

It had been two full days since my sister’s proposition was accepted. Today was the day her friends were said to arrive.

Blaive sat solemnly in his throne. The line of his gaze, broad, while the first set of escorts flooded in his gates. Marching in unison, they carved their way through the narrow streets, nudging away peasant onlookers.

My sister and I sat below my father. We were dunked in the shadow of his balcony while we observed the parade of soldiers.

Pinkamena was bouncing giddily in her seat as if she were a calf in a fenceless field.

She missed my smile.

The first barrage of soldiers were equipped with stubby fangs; their choice of armored garbs intentionally fitted to suit their chitin.

I would argue that thick leather gambesons were useless for a pony, but to a changeling, it was all they needed. They were already heavily covered in a natural and hardened coat of armor. The drones had more of it. The other hive members shed their chitin for a nimbler and sleeker form. They wouldn’t ever see combat; it would just weigh them down. They didn’t need a full suit of armor to weave cotton.

I could see puffy ears and a swaying mane bobbing from behind them. There was no mistaking that jaunty prance. My sister leaned in when the drones assembled and unfolded into a horizontal wall. Princess Chrysalis shoved past them, nearly causing them to tumble, before greeting Blaive with a smirk.

He returned it with a wave that was somewhat lazy.

Queen Irene, my mother, addressed the daughter of King Cercus. “Chrysalis, dear. It is lovely to see you again. You are growing into a beautiful young princess.”

That fed her ego. “A beautiful queen, you mean. It will not be long until I grace the realm with a gleaming crown.”

My mother was quite accustomed to her gloats. “And forever may you reign, Chrysalis.”

Chrysalis was lanky from her legs to her horn. Her mane was paper-thin and held a shimmer equal to her rounded wings. She had a crest of sprouting fur around her collarbone before fading into a hardened chitin shell in the middle. The princess was pastel blue, with hues of turquoise woven within her mane, wings, tail, and abdomen.

The changelings were an interesting specimen crafted by mother nature.

Without warning, a hand appeared from a void. It tapped the shoulder of Chrysalis's drone. He swiped a spear toward the hand's direction, but by then, it had vanished into the depths in which it came.

It then reappeared and flicked the changeling’s cheek. Pinkamena giggled.

It suddenly maneuvered toward Chrysalis, who was drinking in the "ooos” and “ahhs" of the crowd. The fingers twinkled before stealing the tiara off her head.

Chrysalis noticed it. “H-Hey! Unhand that crown at once—”

The hand silently wagged a finger.

“Hello, Cosmos,” Blaive sighed, his patience already thin.

In a burst of magic, the bipedal draconequus appeared. The bodiless hand floated over, was snatched up, and reattached onto her wrist. She then parted her arms as if she were giving an air hug.

“Ta-da!” She announced.

Cosmos then placed the tiara onto the crown of her forehead.

“That is not yours!”

Cosmos blew a raspberry with crossed arms.

Cosmos was a serpentine creature. She was often seen casually sauntering on two legs and gloating her bipedal status by reaching things four-legged creatures normally couldn’t. Her colors were flamboyant and sometimes an eye-sore. They were a tie-dye of raspberry, lavender, and azure tied together with limbs that looked like they belonged to different creatures. She had the hood of a cobra, the teeth of a Saddle Arabian leopard, and the horns of a gazelle.

All while maintaining the demeanor of a mischievous raccoon.

“I’m…I’m here too.” A voice said. The owner of it had spiked up a finger from behind Chrysalis’s barricade of changelings.

“Speak up, boy. You’re a prince. Act like it.” My father chided, making the finger shrivel back into the crowd.

The drones divided and revealed a lonesome Tirek. Well, that was somewhat true. His brother Scorpan appeared to be with him.

Tirek was a scruffy centaur—his mane had never seen the teeth of a comb. With sanguine fur and inky eyes, his face had a hint of intimidation—until you witnessed the girth of his arms. Muscle was scarce there, but his legs were sinewy to make up for it. He wore a burnished chest plate that matched the silver bullring in his nose. He also donned a disheveled hood made from a fox’s black pelt around his shoulders.

“Welcome, Tirek. You and Scorpan are looking well.”

My mother blessed them with a gentle smile, Tirek sheepishly returned a blush. His brother gave him a sturdy clap on the back of his shoulder.

“I hope you enjoy this outing. The fields are warm.”

Tirek fiddled with the back of his head. “Yeah, yeah…just…go. I told you I could get here on my own.”

Chrysalis was still trying to take back her tiara. “You loon, death has been granted for less! Your fingerprints are ruining the gilded finish!"

“Really? It would probably make you mad if I started juggling, huh?"

I leaned in toward my sister so that she could hear my whisper. “So…these are the friends you picked?”

She observed Cosmos throw the tiara from under her leg and catch it, causing Chrysalis to screech. “They’re idiots, but they’re at least they’re my idiots.”

King Blaive cleared his throat. The squabble stopped.

“Soldiers head to the barracks for some much-deserved food and rest. Your stay is a priority, and Everglade will fiercely accommodate your needs. Please, enjoy yourselves.”

Chrysalis gave them her blessing to scurry off with a wave. They almost scampered toward the tavern with lolling tongues. Scorpan followed them with a friendly wave toward his brother. Tirek ignored it. I could see him clench up from his brother’s cold shoulder.

Pinkamena opened her wings. Sturdy and broad they were, woven with leathery webbing and spiked tips. It earned small gasps and shivers from the citizens cast in their shadow.

Sometimes they reminded me of serpent’s wings. The ones who wheeled the skies spitting fire. Dragons, I believe they were called.

She drifted downward where her friends went to meet her.

Cosmos took off the tiara. "Ya know, if I were a queen, I'd abolish all this mumbo-jumbo about being born into thrones. I'd let the citizens decide. Like...Like, a voting system. Therefore no one can just inherit the kingdom."

“That’s ludicrous. Everyone knows the firstborn receives the throne. Therefore the bloodline keeps the nation strong. Your suggestion is idiotic, embarrassing really. A fine example of just because something can speak, it does not display their intelligence. Now silence this asinine proposal."

The draconequus shooed the changeling away with an eye roll while spinning the tiara on a finger. “That seems like an awful system. For one, the entire realm is doomed if someone like you sits on the throne. Goodbye freedom of speech."

Pinkamena landed. “Greetings Cosmos, Tirek—”

She stopped when Chrysalis locked eyes with her.

“—Chryssi.”

"Call me that nickname one more time, and you'll find shackles around your paws. I’m a princess, soon-to-be queen. Mind that hole in your face that flaps your gums.”

Tirek leaned in. “Chryssi.”

He was knocked onto his haunches from a hissing spear of magic. The smoke coiling around Chrysalis’s horn was cooling. Her eyes were swollen in appeasement when Tirek’s groans of pain reached her ears.

I unfolded my wings. Not as eye-catching as my sister, but equally as vast, they casted a shadow. I descended onto the group, landing with a puff of debris dusting my paws.

I folded them back into place, listening to the dull whispers of my father overhead. He mumbled something inaudible to Maverick who gave him a bow in response.

I then re-focused my gaze back onto Pinkamena’s friends.

“Packed?” I asked, catching my sister’s ear.

“All ready,” she said, nodding toward the awaiting soldiers laden with her belongings. “I’m traveling light.”

Cosmos snapped her fingers. A knapsack appeared on her shoulders. “All good and ready to go.”

“All this standing around and talking is rubbish. Let’s go before I lose my patience.” Chrysalis demanded.

Tirek patted a bag slung over his chest. “I brought little. Everglade promised to toil the heavier supplies up the mountain.”

After the gaudy arrival from the royals, it didn’t take long for my father to hurriedly shoo us off. He had his own personal matters to attend. As much as it churned my stomach with the potency of soured milk, I knew it would be best if we abided and hurried off. I never understood the secrecy, but as always, I’d stay out of it as much as I could.

With a division of soldiers, they accompanied the rabbling teens and me out the gates. The scouts had left hours ago to scour the road.

If all went well, they’d smoothly transport our supplies through the forest. If any brigandage was met, they’d be beaten with sound scorn before we'd arrive.

We had made good haste by the time we entered the outside gates. I heard the cranking of the metal behind me as it locked shut. The stallions standing guard gave a farewell nod before once more wallowing in their stationary position—glaring at the outskirts of Everglade.

We then moseyed into the miles of ripening crops.

We were known for our industrious farmhands. Once we crested the hills and surveyed the land, we could see their proud labor from what would soon be sown. Here you could hear the crops swing and sigh with each breath of wind.

It was a melody like no other.

Blankets of wheat spread across what seemed to be endless fields. The wind ruffled the tips, making it flicker like rolling waves. The harvest was healthy this year. I turned an ear toward Cosmos’s giggling while the teens groused at each other. I snickered.

“Why did I even agree to this camping trip,” Tirek complained, slapping a gnat that had landed on the side of his throat.

“We all need some fresh air,” I responded.

"Come on, guys. We needed a friendly outing. When was the last time any of you actually felt grass?” Cosmos asked.

“But why couldn’t I invite some more…I don’t know…other masculine company to join us?”

Pinkamena looked him up and down. “Masculine? You?”

“Shut up, Mena. I meant guys. I don’t know why I hang out with three girls all the time. You all have no idea how to camp.”

“You are blessed to have someone such as I, take you under my wing. A dolt, such as yourself, hardly entices a listening ear that lingers." Chrysalis's needling turned into a full stabbing when she threw a smug look over her shoulder.

Prince Tirek dug his fingernails deeper into the sides of his arms.

I wasn’t going to get involved in their pecking order but I understood the chain. Tirek was a lightning rod. He absorbed a lot of the bickering within the group.

Chrysalis picked on just about everyone. Her pompous behavior caused many ponies she interacted with to scrunch their nose with revulsion. She often aimed her claws at Tirek just because his intelligence outshined hers once in a blue moon.

“If we weren’t around, you wouldn’t have any friends either, Chryssi.”

A smile tugged at the centaur’s lips when the changeling stopped dead in her tracks. I could see the whites of her fangs appear.

“I have oodles of friends! Careful, it is a gift to even consider you a fraction of one. Continue, and you will wear my tolerance into contempt.”

Cosmos thumbed the strap of her knapsack and hopped to reposition it. “Pinkamena has a point. I’ve never seen you interact with anyone other than us.”

Chrysalis had a temper with the sensory of a hair-trigger. The twitching of her left eye indicated it had already been set off. The first rising bubbles of her temper had breached the surface long ago.

“Oh, and I assume you have other friends, Cosmos? You only saunter about because Pinkamena allows you to gorge yourself on Everglade's waste!”

A shadow passed over Cosmos. My face wrinkled. Chrysalis was petty, but she didn’t usually draw blood. She was more of a pest than something venomous.

“You know what?” Pinkamena’s voice was a higher octave. “Ever since your father mentioned your measly coronation, which mind you, happens at age eighteen—not sixteen, you’ve been nothing but callous and judgemental!”

Chrysalis kicked a rock, already suffering roiled emotional turbulence. “Oh, spare me the act of the ignorant fool. You care little of your place. I am to be cursed with the future of being your ally and suffer the reign of the neglectful queen. You frolic about, rusting your crown, dreaming of masquerades and princes in glinting steel-clad."

“Neglectful?” Pinkamena’s voice was now shrill. The group stopped. The guards hastily gripped their sword’s holster when their princess turned around with teeth bared. "Not everyone can be supercilious and vain as you, Chrysalis. I am not neglectful of my future, I'm wary of it. I'm sixteen and I have little time to enjoy it. What's so wrong about how I am handling my life—"

"—Sixteen and willingly clueless. These are to be my allies? Everglade the unfallen, led by a manticore with a heart soft as cotton, and a princess with the wit of an infant? You are dry of silver, your coal mines are dug by my changelings, and there are rumors you have enemies. You should be concerned. If Blaive weren't the king, I'd worry for you."

Pinkamena's fur on her shoulders bristled. "Well, my father is the king. He is handling it. Why does that fall on me? You know what? Why do you even concern yourself with our affairs? I'm not the queen, what does your tangent have to do with me at all? I didn't command this of your changelings, and this hearsay about enemies is fear-mongering."

"That is where the problem lies. One day you MAY be queen. What then?"

Chrysalis jammed a teal hoof into Pinkamena’s chest. I heard the smack when her paw deflected it.

“Then I'll handle the problems as they emerge. I may not even get the throne. You act as if you're the reigning sovereign of every household. Just like how I am not the queen yet, neither are you. You have the power to command no one."

"Pinkamena, just leave it alone. She's just reflecting her failure to live up to her father's expectations on you." Cosmos’s voice was spiced with mockery.

Within her claws, she held a wrinkled piece of paper. Her brow was arched as I watched her eyes scamper across the note. Her lips swelled, revealing a nasty grinch’s smile.

Cosmos had pickpocketed Chrysalis while the two had pointed fingers.

The changeling princess tried to swat the paper from her grasp, but she dodged. The gush of air produced from the move made the flowers nod. Cosmos mirrored the smug grin the changeling had thrown at Tirek, causing the tension to thicken.

The draconequus was unfazed when Chrysalis’s horn sparked. The more her face tightened, the more I knew they’d be butting heads for dominance over the mountain.

“Give it back—”

“—Or what? Daddy will lock you up in your tower? I find it ironic that you would have the audacity to be hypocritical out of all creatures. Daddy doesn’t seem too happy with your progress and the throne.”

Cosmos had hit gold—a direct strike on her nerves.

“Knock it off, Chryssi. You are fighting an uphill battle. Let it go.”

Tirek’s voice of reason, as I predicted, was pushed under the waves.

Chrysalis lurched to the side, a spill of her magic spraying onto the grass. The glower her eyes blazed was enough to bristle your fur. The magic was cascading with such volume, it was physically rolling off her shoulders.

“At least my father didn’t leave me swaddled in cow dung, teething on a carrot top! Orphan!”

“That. Is. Enough,” I interjected, causing the magic on the changeling’s horn to flicker. “You are projecting your frustrations onto your friends. You do not have many, Chrysalis. Do not pretend that this is a lie. Your unoriginal endeavor of recycling this behavior is growing rust. It’s old and tiresome. If your goal was to chide Pinkamena, and that alone, I will hear no more. I will personally escort you back home and have a word with your father. I will happily explain how you, Chrysalis—”

I leaned forward with narrowed eyes. She flinched.

“—Decided to belittle your future allies and risk having your reputation near belly-up in the water. If this is how a queen behaves, no wonder your father is dismally watching your ascension to the throne. Is this what King Cercus’s lineage has to offer? I do empathize with him, for it horribly disappointing.”

Under the carapace of confidence she had, her interior was soft. She pretended that her chitin lined her insides as well, but they were mushy with doubt—and she overcompensated with her nasty arrogance.

My ear caught a giggle from Cosmos, still clutching the letter as if it were a gold broach on her chest.

“And you—” I said, singling her out with a crimped claw. “You knew this was private. If you cannot resist playing her game, that doesn’t make you any better.”

I approached the draconequus. She hunched over and her laughter receded. When I stood over her and demanded the paper, she looked like she was trying to shrink into the size of a field mouse and become twice as quiet.

There was zero resistance when I tugged the paper from her grasp. It slipped from her hands as if it were drenched in oil.

“And Pinkamena.”

I watched my sister straighten herself up, ears fully at attention.

I sighed through my nose. “You are just as responsible for the future of this realm as Chrysalis. Everglade is a symbol of peace and harmony. You play an instrumental role as law and order. Peace is more than the absence of war. Be the example.”

I flicked out my wrist, holding the letter between two claws.

Behind Chrysalis’s translucent mane, I saw her eyes painfully drag upward toward the exposed contents. No, I wasn’t going to read her letter, I knew enough. I diverted my eyes in a placating gesture. I felt my offering taken with a bit of spite. She was chagrined enough to last a lifetime. The problem didn’t need to be exacerbated.

I heard the paper crinkle as Chrysalis shoved it back into her leather bag.

“Now. That’s all done. No more pickpocketing, no more badgering—”

I gave the princess a side-eye. Chrysalis said nothing and didn’t return my gaze with any hostility.

“—And maybe if you cooperate, we can get to our objective before sundown.”

The soldiers behind Tirek stood at attention. Their armor clanked as their bright-eyed and bushy-tailed demeanor slowly recovered. When Pinkamena got into a spat with her friends, they tuned out for most of it until they caught wind of the group venturing off again.

I turned away from the solemn cluster of teens. While they processed through the chew-out they had endured, an escort had silently joined my side. Within his hoof, he had a bronze spyglass.

In a swift exchange, I had unraveled the metal and placed the nozzle over my right eye. I then glassed the landscape, scouting the plains until I saw the decoy employment of soldiers ferrying the heavier supplies down east.

To maximize protection, the soldiers accompanying Pinkamena would never carry anything that would hinder their abilities in combat. That was why my father always sent a detachment ahead to clear the roads and haul the supplies.

With a clack, I scrunched the spyglass back up and flipped it toward the soldier’s open hoof.

“We will make camp a mile from the hot springs.”

I heard Tirek groan. “But that’s unnecessarily far.”

“You’re a centaur. You need the stamina and strength. If you want the attention of maidens, you aren’t going to achieve your goal with those.”

Tirek looked toward the spindly limbs of his arms before sheepishly pulling his cowl over his face.

Chrysalis was stomping out her frustration on tulips. She hopped onto a batch before swishing her body back and forth to grind them in the dirt. Pinkamena caught her with a wandering eye.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. If you step on a wasp, you’re going to have a bad time.”

“There are no wasps here. Leave me be.”

“It’s summer. We’re in the farmlands. Do you even know how pollination works? Of course there are wasps.” Cosmos replied.

“There are no damn wasps—”

There was a sudden buzz. An agonized cry soon followed after.

Well. Chrysalis was right in some sense. There were no wasps…but there were honeybees. It just so happened we were passing through the apiary where we harvested honey and beeswax. Since she wasn’t a drone, the bee could sink its stinger right behind her fluffy ears unguarded by chitin.

She was wailing for two hours.

Eventually, my stamina ran dry. No, she wasn’t heavy. Her moans and grumbles were just rubbing my ear raw. She was stung once and acted as if her entire body had weeping wounds. It was a bee, not a lance.

I didn’t know how a sting behind the ear kept her from walking, but she refused to move until someone carried her the rest of the way.

This trip was already so much fun with my sister’s friends. I didn’t know how on this green earth they got along. They were simply intolerable.

So, we had set up camp for the night. Cosmos was too hungry to walk, Tirek was smoldering under the sun, Chrysalis was immobile—and my sister exhausted from a long day’s trot.

Thankfully, we had made it somewhat close to our objective before puttering out for the night.

As I rested, everyone got to work on the campsite.

“Okay. Why do I have to make the fire?”

While sitting on my log, I continued to watch Tirek aggressively rub kindling sticks. I took a swig from my canteen before bringing my paw down to rest the bottle by my hip.

“…Because we’re three weak girls. You don’t want us getting splinters, do you?”

A wisp of smoke curled into the air from his efforts. Tirek used the back of his palm to quickly wipe his nose before looking over toward Cosmos.

"That is bull! You can snap your fingers and create a firepit. Pinkamena literally breathes fire—”

“—I’m a princess. We don’t soil our paws with dirt, Tirek.”

“You’re practically crapping fire out of every orifice! It just makes sense for something with that kind of ability to create…oh I don’t know…the very element that thrives INSIDE of them.”

"Tirek makes the fire. You three set up camp. Divide the work and quit irritating him. Chrysalis, if you don't thoroughly hammer in the stakes, it'll come apart in the middle of the night."

The changeling rolled her eyes before flicking her gaze over to an idle soldier.

“Hey. You. Yeah, you. Come here. Hammer this, I’m a princess…you…you do this. I’m taking a break.”

Cosmos stopped mid-hammer, “Coeus, Chrysalis is playing hooky!”

"Snitches get stitches," Tirek grumbled, his face relaxed when a small but subtle ember rewarded his work with a twinkle. “Finally!”

“I’m not playing hooky. I have been hammering at these stakes steadfastly all afternoon. I’m tired, wounded, and I deserve a break!”

Pinkamena snickered while she hung the oil lamps onto the branches of trees. “Stop your bellyaching. Not even an hour has passed. Your sting isn’t even swollen anymore.”

Chrysalis dismissed her. “I…well…I mean…an hour, all afternoon…just…it matters not! It doesn’t matter! It’s taking forever and I’m not doing this anymore. We have soldiers to do grueling labor for a reason.”

My sister didn’t entertain her complaints, and instead, flicked open the glass panel and lit the wick with the tip of her claw. She gently closed the oil lamp before moving onto her next one.

Tirek cheered boisterously when the ember evolved into a vast myriad of assorted flames. The flame proudly boasted its lurid colors of bright orange, red, and yellow with three quick puffs of air.

Pinkamena suddenly slapped her tail into the grass. She looked back up with a grimace. “Do we have a repellent for mosquitos?”

“It was Tirek’s bright idea to set up camp next to a pond so he could take a swim at midnight," Cosmos muttered while she beat out fur blankets with flaps.

“I didn’t know some of the water would be stagnant, okay? I thought if we set up our camp away from the marsh, the bugs would leave us alone and everyone would be happy."

Tirek had been extremely vocal about setting up camp near a freshwater source. The centaur rarely had his desires weighed in with the rest of the group, so I obliged. I just didn’t know he'd choose the most bug-infested bog in the denizens of forest and hills to pick from. The rocks lining the shore were thick with a mossy beard, inviting pungent algae and limping clumps of shrooms.

This, of course, seduced waves of insects into swarming them.

"I'm not happy," Chrysalis remarked as she took a large gulp from her personal canteen.

“Chrysalis, hun, no one asked. You had your break. Help me line the tents with blankets."

Chrysalis pulled the canteen from her lips with her magic. Clearly unbothered shirking her responsibilities, she languidly rolled over to where her back was pressed up against a rock.

“…Give me five more minutes. I’m sure I’ll just be bustling with a zestful desire to do…whatever it is you’re doing.”

Pinkamena slapped another mosquito, making the group flinch. “Seriously, guys. They carry diseases.”

"Smoke disorients them. That's why I wanted to get the fire going before sundown," I advised, overlooking the soldiers' campsite sinking into the marsh.

It seemed their fires were flushing out the mosquitoes into our neck of the woods. They were so thick, I’d almost mistook the swarms for smoke trails that had gone rogue.

“So, more fire, is it? I can oblige.”

Without so much as a grunt, Pinkamena flexed her paw and caused a halo of rocks to come swirling around her. She waved, and the stones gently levitated onto the grass where they flopped onto the ground. They were now arrayed into a neat ring, with a teepee of logs stacked within the middle.

Stroking her paw in a “rise” motion, embers followed her movement. A light appeared, reaching for the sky. A blaze had bloomed, happily answering Pinkamena’s commands with eagerness.

She had made a fire.

Tirek dropped his kindling sticks. “You have GOT to be kidding me!”

My sister’s kittenish wink was enough to elicit a furious snarl from the centaur. He balled up his fists and trembled with enough magnitude to shake the leaves from his mane.

Without warning, he threw his sticks into the pond and flopped onto his haunches with a huff.

My nose caught onto a whiff of a stale and sour scent. The beckoning finger of the enticing aroma ushered in my attention toward the changeling princess. With her lips in a ring, she took another drink of her mysterious beverage. I rolled my eyes, I wasn’t her father, but I could predict his opinion. I didn’t think he’d be ecstatic about his daughter smuggling wine. I haven’t seen any of Pinkamena’s friends stumble along in a drunken state, but there was a first time for everything.

“There. All done. No thanks to Chryssi.” Cosmos threw a look behind her. The princess didn’t care to amuse her jab and instead chose to stare blankly into the sunset. With a snort, Cosmos slithered into her tent.

There was another meaty slap. “There’s ticks now? Gah, I’m done. So, done. White flag flown. Call me when dinner is ready.”

“Shall I make us stew and cornbread?” I offered. My sister hastily removed the leather binds from her tent.

She looked up. “I don’t like cornbread—”

“—I like cornbread,” Tirek interrupted, a glossy shine of interest coating his eyes.

Cosmos’s azure claw suddenly appeared from outside her tent. “Did someone mention cornbread?”

“I hate cornbread!”

Pinkamena was ignored as Chrysalis added her input. “I’ll accept cornbread. Warm, crumbly, no less. If it is stale so help me.”

I nodded. “Cornbread it is.”

I heard Pinkamena’s vile curses moments afterward.

Using my paw, I levitated my cooking supplies over to a make-do station. Everyone was assigned a job. Tirek, reluctantly, was given campfire duty and the girls were given the tents.

I was quite skilled in the art of cooking. The wafting trail of my craft would invite a hoard. Camping or not, my preparations would be the same. I waved to one of the stallions keeping watch. Nodding, he scampered toward the camp where the scouts were stationed. There, the heavy supplies were viciously guarded and stored until we marched again.

They brought me an iron stand to level over the fire and a cooking pot. I directed them, settling the gaping cauldron over Pinkamena’s campfire. Much to Tirek’s disappointment.

A small wooden table that had been freshly sanded was brought to my side with a small iron knife. The blade rattled when the soldier dropped it at paw's length near my right.

The cornbread was pre-baked, and to keep pests out, they were stored in a small container. Settled by the fire to warm, I began my highly anticipated task.

I glided the knife into my first onion, gripping the hilt firmly within my paw. Cosmos was leaning out from her tent. She quickly ducked her head back in before reappearing with a sheep's skin pillow under her chin.

Chrysalis took another sip of her wine.

With a brassy twang of my knife, I knocked the perfectly diced onions into the boiling water. I tapped the metal on the side of my cutting board to flick off the juices.

I then began crunching the blade through two perky stalks of celery.

"Something is alluring about your technique," Cosmos complimented, with a swish of her tail batting the cowskin entrance to her tent.

"Well, cooking is an art," Tirek said while peering over my shoulder.

I severed some carrots into small circular slabs. When three were cut, I again, slid the ingredients into the pot to boil.

“If it doesn’t have garlic, you can count me out."

I chuckled audibly. I pinched a clove of garlic between my claws and waved it over my shoulder.

Chrysalis appeared to be satisfied.

“What are you using for the base?” Tirek asked.

“Veggie broth. The market sells plenty of it, alongside succulent picks of fruit daily.”

“Where is my cornbread!”

“Patience, Cosmos,” I said. I used my hind paw to gently kick at the container. The gesture was understood.

“Bold of you to use both onions and garlic.” Tirek noted, engrossed by the softening vegetables in the pot. “My mother used to make something similar. She would hide the intensity of the garlic with some sage and rosemary.”

"You cook?" I asked as I dumped the red potatoes into the scalding water.

“No. It’s just when my dad takes Scorpan for one of their—” Tirek stopped to make quotations with his fingers. “—Talks, about how he washes me in his shadow. I’m left behind, and my mother likes to drag me around and teach me her weird novel-length cooking recipes.”

I nodded, swiping the peas into the cauldron.

“Speaking of the throne…has…King Blaive conversed with you and Pinkamena about it?”

“I apologize. I’m failing to follow along.”

“Well,” Tirek began while rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s two of you and only one throne, right?”

I stopped, mid-chop. I hesitated. We would both receive a throne. It just mattered as to who would receive Everglade's. Due to tradition, normally, the daughter would be crowned queen beside a prince who was first in line for one that wasn’t warmed.

She’d be married off.

Something about it caused my grip on the handle to coil tighter. She was sixteen, the ripe age for when plans would begin being made. I haven’t…heard my father mention anything about it. A betrothal seemed so alien to my ears, and yet, familiar at the same time. It wouldn’t be weird for my father to mention it. She was preparing to be a queen, somewhere. To warm a throne…somewhere.

Would my father really entrust her to some gangly prince who had never commanded a kingdom in earnest? One who lounged around eating grapes from a vine, dangling from the hoof of a servant?

“…Coeus?”

It wasn’t an unorthodox tradition, daughters commonly married princes who’d become kings. No. No, it wasn’t an oddity. It hadn’t crossed my mind with a linger when the subject was brought up before, but she was young then. Now, she was much older. Much more appealing to my father’s alliances. It soured my stomach.

"It's…boiling…over."

No, I was worrying myself. Father wouldn’t even let her outside the walls. As protective as he was, if anyone was brazen enough to mention such a proposal, it would be treated as an act of war.

I placed my paw on the cooler edge of the pot. The heated rim was glowing as if it had been freshly taken off a forge.

I dumped out some of the fizz from the cooking pot. The water hissed as it sank into the grass. I brought it back up with a jerk. The broth sloshed at the rim and then grew still.

“Okay, can I have my cornbread…now? Throw me a bone here. I'm starving!"

Tirek jabbed two fingers into his ears. "Coeus, just give her the damn cornbread. I can't take her whining!"

I handed Tirek the container and he nearly bounded over to Cosmos. He shoved it into her grasping claws with a rebuke before coming back by my side. I heard the lid open as Cosmos happily accepted her bread. I continued my work.

Taking a wooden ladle, I brought the brew to my lips. I puffed some air to wave away the steam before slurping a taste.

I smacked my lips. “It needs to simmer.”

“Simmer? What do you mean simmer? How long is that going to take? I'm starving!” Chrysalis mewled.

“And you need to simmer down. You haven’t lifted a darn hoof this entire time. You can wait,” Pinkamena scolded.

My eyes riveted on the stew. “Mmmm? Twenty minutes?”

The changeling dragged her hooves down her face in frustration. “Cosmos, share the cornbread. I demand it!”

“Mghthmmm,” she responded, with her chin slathered in crumbs.

Cosmos then pulled the container into her tent and closed the flap. Chrysalis made a sound of offense before rolling over with curses under her breath.

My own stomach grumbled out its hunger. It eroded my resolve to finish sealing in the flavor. Only I would really know the difference. It didn’t taste watery, it was rich and flavorful.

I was just being a perfectionist.

With a sigh, I floated over the cheaply made ceramic bowls I had packed.

I whistled. “Alright, I hear your gripes. Gather by the fire and I’ll hover over your bowl.”

Springing from her tent, Cosmos floated into a sitting position with her legs neatly crossed under her. The cornbread was safely tucked under her arm while she watched me dip a clean ladle into the stew.

One by one they settled by Pinkamena’s fire. Tirek moved over stones, Pinkamena levitated them into a circular position, and Chrysalis just didn’t help at all. She sat with forelimbs crossed, awaiting her meal.

Once I had poured everyone their fair share, I passed them their bowls with wooden spoons. Before I could even sit down, they began lapping up their meal with a vigorous pace.

I scooped up a hefty clump of carrot and potato and took my first bite.

The groans of “mmms” in unison were just as rewarding as the fruits of my labor. It seemed to put the group in good spirits.

“…Cornbread?” Tirek asked, pointing toward Cosmos’s container.

I nodded.

“Pass around the cornbread, one each. One. Don’t hog.” I repeated, rolling my paw toward Cosmos to try and coax her into releasing her iron grip on the container.

"…You know? Who needs cornbread? P-Pinkamena is right…it's gross and stale—”

My sister awkwardly chewed, a piece of potato flopped from her spoon and into the stew. “Nope. You can’t switch sides now. The cornbread hating community is closed to new recruits.”

Her teeth scraped the spoon as she took another bite. I could see beads of sweat beginning to dot Cosmos’s brow.

“…Cosmos. Give me the cornbread,” Chrysalis warned, with a flat and threatening monotone.

“I…I found roaches in it!”

Pinkamena sighed. Without attracting much attention, she put down her stew and fluttered her paw. A glove of green light encased it, with the same-colored hue entombing the container moments afterward. While Chrysalis entertained Cosmos with insults, my sister had gripped the jar in snug magic. With a tug of her empty hoof, the container popped right out from under the draconequus’s armpit. Before Cosmos could even open her mouth to speak, my sister had already begun tugging the lid.

It leapt off with minimum force. With a lazy toss, the lid was thrown onto the grass. Her expression was hollow as she peered inside.

There was painful silence from the teens. My sister’s face did not change, it remained stoic.

“…She ate all the cornbread.”

Chrysalis nervously chuckled. “…No…I refuse to believe Cosmos would be bold enough and consume it all in my presence. There is only one container. The consequences would…would… be abysmal!”

Pinkamena deadpanned. She then flipped over the opening of the container so we could keenly examine the inside.

Empty.

My face fell, Tirek spat out his stew.

“YOU ABSOLUTE DIPSTICK. YOU ATE ALL OF IT.”

Chrysalis had used the full force of her lungs. It caused some sparrows to flitter from the trees. Cosmos’s face had the intensity of crimson. She poked her two fingers together.

“…I had one…and it was just so good so I had six more…”

Pinkamena was trying to hold back her laughter. She poked at a piece of carrot in her stew while making fleeting glimpses toward the screaming match. She was relishing in the ire.

Tirek slammed his bowl of stew onto a rock and threw an accusing finger at Cosmos.

“All I wanted was cornbread. I have been thinking about it for the last SIX hours—”

“—Tirek is an absolute imbecile but at least he doesn’t eat all the cornbread!”

The centaur nailed Chrysalis with an “are-you-serious-look" but bit back his tart retort. This was not the first time Cosmos had been a glutton. The last June harvest of cucumber had been the most longed-for crop of Everglade. Ever since a mad genius had thrown them in with salt rocks and vinegar, their zesty flavor made them highly sought after.

Tirek had decided to marinate some cucumbers for us and had stored them away within a secluded shack. For a month we had watched them with slavering lips. When he invited us to taste his final product, and the sunlight touched the glass jars—we found them transparent. Not a slice was left, nor evidence of them ever being in there. After a scuffle of gnashing teeth and flailing claws, we begrudgingly concluded that one of us had busted the lock and had a feast.

When the blood was mopped up, and I mean that literally, it was found that Cosmos had gorged herself on them for weeks.

"…This is the pickle incident all over again," Pinkamena wheezed, now in full-blown hysterics.

“Okay, to play Devil’s Advocate here, Coeus handed me the cornbread. Me, guys. If anything, this is his fault we all knew I couldn’t be trusted.” She bleated, hurriedly. Although she was caught with her claws in the cornbread jar, she didn’t dare accept the blame.

Cosmos’s flub-ups were a legendary vice of hers. She slapped her knees to fill the silence with something other than the heavy breathing surrounding her. If I didn’t step in, I’d have anarchy on my paws.

“…Cosmos—”

“—I know I probably should have asked," she interrupted before throwing her hands to the side. "But in my defense, you did give them to me.”

Without warning, Chrysalis lunged like a flying arrow. Tirek fell back, knocking his stew over with his flailing limbs. Pinkamena was cackling. The catfight was short-lived, however, when I immobilized the leaping changeling within magic. Paused, mid-air, Chrysalis was still outstretched in a perfect position to strangle Cosmos. If I had not stopped her, she would have.

I kept her levitating. “That’s enough! Can I not have an afternoon without bloodshed?”

The changeling twitched within my magic, eyes wild and mouth agape in a silenced cry.

In the chaos, Cosmos had leapt behind the rock she was sitting on. I doubted it would have stopped Chrysalis from abstaining her awakened urge of murder.

“Bed!” I commanded. With a flick of my wrist, the changeling flopped ways away from the campfire onto the grass. I then turned my gaze to Cosmos. “Bed, now!”

“…Yes, Coeus.”

“Whatever! You’re all buffoons! I rue the moment I agreed to this abominable muddle of a trip!”

Chrysalis's snarl spat enough venom to put an adder to shame. The group recoiled a bit from the sting. I watched the changeling's eyes dart toward the ground, her rage sizzling out for a mere moment until she flounced toward her tent with a huff. Cosmos parroted her snort before storming off toward her own tent with disgruntled mutters.

Once the two had settled within their beds for the night, the crackling fire filled the silence. I wouldn’t say Chrysalis’s outburst was undeserved, but her irritability had been hiked up a few notches. I’d blame whatever weight her father had been throwing onto her shoulders.

The fading nacreous sky was surrendering to the colors of twilight. The sun had fallen behind the tree line, taking with it the perky colors of sundown. This left only three to enjoy nature's light show under a canopy of rustling leaves.

Pinkamena poked at her stew. The squabble had left a stale aftertaste in the air.

“…Chrysalis has been having a hard time lately.”

The one who braved the job of ice-breaker was, as I predicted, Tirek.

“I’d say so. Her behavior today was quite sour.”

“…It isn’t exactly her fault, okay?” Tirek began, settling by the fire with his arms hugging his knees. “She has the entire weight of the changeling hive on her mind. They have different rules than we do. The strongest are praised, the weakest are shunned, she's the reflection of her father's ideals. I don't think she wants to be that way. Everglade is a lot different from our homes. I think in a way, she's jealous of your loving culture. You can be carefree, she can't. She has to live and breathe the iron-hoof ways of her hive. King Cercus has been molding her into what he wants to see, not what kind of queen she wants to be.”

It wasn’t an excuse, but my sister seemed to understand. The tension she was holding onto depleted and I could see her visibly relax.

“…Yeah, I noticed something had been off for the past few months. W-Well, I mean…something is always off with Chryssi, but instead of being slightly annoying, she's been downright despicable."

I brought the soup spoon to my lips. “We shouldn’t gossip.”

“This isn’t gossiping. We are simply discussing her behavior behind her back without her knowing.”

Tirek rolled his eyes. “That’s what gossiping is, Pinkamena.”

My sister snorted. She took a final bite of her stew with a hidden smile, showing she indeed knew what she was doing.

Tirek got the hint and chuckled softly.

“How did your knowledge of this come to pass?” I hummed. I placed my dry bowl down before leaning in and settling my gaze onto Tirek.

He nonchalantly shrugged. "When Cosmos pick-pocketed Chrysalis, I happened to catch a glimpse of the letter. It was full of her father’s admonishing farewells. I think that was all she got before she was sent off. Pages of his written scolding. King Cercus threatened her not to mess this trip up or she’d be spending a lot of time—”

Tirek stopped to make casual air quotes.

“—Self-reflecting. Which I’d assume was the reason Cosmos said she'd be locked up in her tower. I may be talked over a ton in the group, but I have a lot of time to listen and observe because of that. Chrysalis is only acting this way because she feels controlled and left behind."

"So, you read her letter?" Pinkamena grinned waggishly. "Apparently, you and Cosmos ignore the rules of common decency. Is privacy only a fabled mannerism now?”

The centaur coughed into a balled fist to clear his throat. “W-Well, I wasn’t going out of my way to snoop. It was just in my face.”

Pinkamena raised an eyebrow. I chimed in. “Regardless of her behavior tonight, tomorrow is a new day. If you really care for her friendship, you’ll support her. I sensed internal turmoil the moment she stepped in Everglade’s gates. She needs you two right now. Her behavior is a cry for help.”

“Yeah,” Tirek replied. His voice was soft, near dejected. He removed his arms from his knees, and instead, hugged his abdomen with a pensive gaze into the flames.

My sister picked up on the melancholy. “Gah. Enough with the despondency, it reeks. You know what this campfire needs?”

“…Cornbread?” Tirek sighed.

“No,” Pinkamena replied. “Stories! I have just the remedy for this situation—”

“—Oh, your erotic fiction?”

“NO,” my sister piped. Her back claws had suddenly unsheathed and scraped the rock. I withheld my laugh. When the garnet blush had cleared from her face, she continued. “When my father went to exchange goods with the tribes of minotaur, they gave him gifts. In thanks of the steel and chariots of wheat, my father was given scrolls and ancient records. It is said that these were written back when their Gods communicated with mortals!”

Tirek burst into a guffaw. “Pinkamena, please don’t tell me you believe in any of that. The minotaurs are weird. They wear loincloths and make real sacrifices to their pretend deities.”

“I didn’t remark anything of the sort!” She barked. She then toned down the aggression in her voice. “Fiction or not, the message still enraptures me. I had these translated so I could learn about their Gods. I read why they believe storms cross the skies, or why wheat grows from the ground. Ignorance isn’t bliss when it comes to other cultures. Their mythology will help us learn how they developed as a tribe.”

“Nono. Pinkamena is absolutely right. As eccentric as other cultures may seem, they deserve the same respect we are given. My father spends countless hours in his study so he can better understand other races,” I said.

Tirek didn’t seem happy but relented. “Alright, alright, fine. Let’s hear the weird beliefs of minotaurs.”

She beamed. “Great! I’ll only be gone a moment!”

Pinkamena nimbly leapt off her rock and nearly bounded toward her tent. She disappeared into the shadows with faint rustling coming from afar.

Now there were two. Tirek and I sat for a bit before he rushed into the silence Pinkamena left behind.

“I can’t help but wonder…what exactly are you, Coeus?”

“A manticore,” I replied. Tirek didn’t seem satisfied.

“But you have intelligence. Manticores are wild and unpredictable beasts. They can’t speak the common tongue. They know nothing other than to maim and to disfigure anyone who comes into contact with them—and I’m positive they aren’t born with tattoos.”

He pointed toward a marking on my shoulder. It was radiating a gentle warm light. He had a point. The symbols were odd. I knew ponies had a rite of passage when it came to markings. They gained Cutie Marks whenever they found their purpose. I, however, had always had these markings.

Tirek refocused my attention when I had lingered on my shoulder for too long. “You have two. One is a shield…thing…with a crown above it. The other, four pillars, and a creepy eye in the middle. No offense, but it makes my skin crawl.”

He visibly shivered. I chuckled.

“Yes, it is quite the anomaly. I have yet to unravel the mystery.”

“Pinkamena has one too, doesn’t she?”

I cocked my head. “A marking?”

“Yeah. The balance scale.”

Like me, my sister was born with peculiar markings. She had her “cutie-mark" from the day she was found. No infant could earn such a mark within the four days they were born. She had it before she could even crawl.

Many wizards that dabbled in the arcane arts came to solve the puzzle.

All turned up empty hoofed.

The meaning was unknown…just as mine was.

Pinkamena came leaping back to the campfire. Half a scroll tucked within her magic was fluttering in the breeze.

I took a swig of my water while she nuzzled herself back onto the rock.

“Alright. I have the story about the Garden of Eden—”

“—When the first two ponies were made? We have a similar fairytale about a golden age when there was no evil…and timberwolves rested with lambs.”

She flipped through the disheveled pile within her forelimbs. "I’m familiar with the tale. That's written within mythology by the hand of minotaurs lemme just—”

The entire pile slipped through her grasp.

“—Rats. I knew that was going to happen if I tried to bring it all in one trip. Help me, Tirek."

“Our mother used to read to us the origin of centaurs. Didn’t a God fall in love with a cloud, was deceived, and that cloud created the ancestor of Tirek’s race? Then that child later fell in love with mares and created centaurs?” I inquired.

Tirek snorted while he gathered up the scrolls. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Whoever wrote that has an extremely weird imagination. This is why mythology is bull.”

Pinkamena’s hoof rested on a weather-beaten notebook. “Oh, I remember reading this!”

With a breath, a gust blew away the dust settled on the cover. She smoothed out the grooves on the front with a spreading claw.

“What?” Tirek asked. He peered over her shoulder.

“This is a copy from Hesiod's greatest work. Hesiod, the poet, existed almost two hundred years ago. He documented really amazing feats. Like…hydras with hundreds of heads, Titans that separate the heavens and earth, and muses that had the voices of sirens.”

“Guy sounds like a whack job,” Tirek teased.

“Well, he happens to be one of the most famous philosophers in the realm to date. Fantasy or not, his stories keep me entertained through long and brooding storms—”

I heard the flutter of a tent flap. A twang of something metallic echoed in the distance. I turned and witnessed Chrysalis retching behind a rock.

“…Are you alright?”

The changeling dry heaved. With glassy eyes, she shakily gestured toward Cosmos, who was leisurely poking her muzzle out of her tent. Her smile was concerning.

Chrysalis buckled and emptied her stomach into the bush.

Even though she was miles away from Pinkamena, that didn’t keep her from grimacing and inching herself away.

“…Cosmos, what in the four realms did you do?” Tirek asked. His nose scrunched when the princess hunched over and dry-heaved.

“It was just a prank. She was drinking wine, so I sprinkled in a few elderberry leaves I found growing in the woods. The juice from them causes nausea.”

Chrysalis wiped her mouth. “WHY?”

Cosmos’s face darkened. “You called me an orphan.”

A spear skewered through the lapel in a soldier's chainmail. With gurgles, he collapsed onto the eroded rocks. There was a hissing spew of ocean spray as the sea below the mountain roared. A lance pierced the spine of another limping soldier. His cry silenced.

A plume of smoke ascended into the sky. The smell of oil and molten metal lingered within the air. The gaping hole within the stony barricade leaked out flaming soldiers. Their manes flickered within the whisking wind of the ocean's gust. They nearly fell into the poised lances, begging to be relieved of the fiery assault they endured. Piles of them grew by the seconds.

They blocked their charge with shields, pushed them forward, then jutted their swords and spears into their chests. The battering ram they had used was freshly scudded with gashes. The foot soldiers had already seized the inside. What was once full of life within the barren mountains was now just as empty as the rocks surrounding it. The farms were alight with towering flames that devoured their watchtowers, and their chests of silver breached and harvested.

On gleaming backs, they were hauled and thrown onto wagons. There were cries from mares that had once nursed the injured soldiers within the fort. They watched the luster within their stallions' eyes spoil into darkness.

Within the small circular window of an eyeglass, a stallion observed the slaughter. His lip was notched. His armor reflected the hot ribbons of light streaking the gravel sky. His cape fluttered when another howling breeze ruffled his mane.

A stallion with a greasy salt and pepper beard approached. “My Lord, we have recovered more.”

With a wide swoop of his hoof, he revealed stone tablets chiseled with a message that made the king’s teeth gnash. Untouched by the wild demeanor of the blaze, the locks had been smashed, and the crates pried open to reveal what was hidden inside.

Hundreds of hoof-written scrolls were sprouting messily as if they had been quickly shoved within them.

Taking the eyeglass away from under the bridge of his brow, he replied. “What of the attempted escapees?”

“Three. One with a cleaved leg, another dead by an arrow in the back, the last speared by the calvary. Our soldiers surrounded the fort from all sides. There will be no survivors.”

“Good.” King Blaive said, rolling up his eyeglass with a clack. “No evidence, no survivors. Leave no trace of this place. Cast their bodies into the ocean and burn their flags.”

There was another rattle of chainmail. A high-pitched scream whittled out into a gasp. Once the body had been silenced, two soldiers dressed in heavy clad rolled it over the edge of the cliff.

The ocean devoured it, swallowing the prisoner of war with an embrace of swirling waves. Another clunked into the sea, before a third, and then a fourth. The soldiers took their orders silently.

The sea sluiced over the offering of bodies, sunken in a fathomless grave.

“Monster!” A mare screeched.

Maverick flinched when her words raked over him. “What of the mares?”

Blaive turned an eye. Surrounded by stationary stallions with their swords idle, the mares quivered. Covered in soot and ripped garments, the one who had braved the shout glowered at the king. She huddled with the others. They were not as bold.

“…Your Grace.” A voice called. Something was shoved forward with a grunt.

A scrawny colt fell on his chin near Blaive’s hooves. Swirling the grit on the ground with his movements, the youngling recovered. His eyes met that of the king’s hollow glare. Yet, his were churning with animosity and resentment.

Blaive spotted the gash within his leg. “So, you are the one who tried to evacuate these.”

He gestured to the chests with a nod. The colt said nothing.

“Son. I don’t think you quite understand the grave situation you’ve put me in. Do you even know what information you’re spreading?”

The wounded colt’s face twitched.

With a sigh, the king took a knee with one of his forelegs. “I understand your vehement determination toward whatever force you serve. I also understand there will be little I can do to convince you. So, I offer you this. Tell me who is responsible for these copies of Titan’s Hollow and The Battle of Tears, and I will give you a second chance at life.”

The colt spat at the king’s hooves. “I wish to drown in the bed of bones you’ve thrown in the ocean. Sink me like you did my brothers and the six hundred.”

Blaive did not return his glare. “This isn’t bravado, son. Throwing your life away is foolhardy. But I digress. If you won't do it for you, what about—”

Blaive turned a hoof. He then pointed it toward the cowering mares.

“—Them?”

There was a symphony of unsheathed swords. The colt's eyes withered when the blades were turned onto the mares.

“Do you have a lover in there, boy? Is a piece of paper demanding war worth this? Don’t give me the sorrow of giving the order. I don’t want to. There’s been enough violence. Don’t you agree?”

His throat bobbed when watching the soldier’s weapons level under their chins in unison. A silent wave of tension settled, not a sound uttered from anywhere.

Suddenly, the mare who had spoken earlier slowly shook her head. A fresh trail of tears broke from the colt’s eyes. He seemed to protest her silent cue, but she closed her eyes and leaned into the point of the blade.

Blaive got the message. “As you wish.”

The colt collapsed onto the pebbles with heaping sobs as the soldiers jutted their swords.

Chapter 2

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