Off-season

by Cloud Ring

Rating: teen
Tags: Drama, Mystery, Bat Pony, Starlight Glimmer, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe
Length: 15659

There is a request for Starlight Glimmer. She really does not want to fulfill it.

Starlight Glimmer is always happy to answer all requests — when you are the dean of a magical university, they just keep coming.

Well, in fact, neither always nor all requests.

Cover art cropped from Magnaluna's art.

Proofread by awesome Kookelbag!

Additional tag: Dark

Published 2021-07-09 19:40:00 UTC
Last updated 2023-08-14 19:23:27 UTC

Chapter two, in which Beatrix Lulamoon uses oranges to resolve an issue

In other circumstances the sight of a light blue unicorn diagonally sprawled on her stomach on Starlight's desktop, combined with a brown stetson hat strategically positioned where it mattered most, might have pleased the owner of the table. As well as a small, half-empty bottle of sparkling wine standing dangerously at the very corner of it.

There were three good reasons now for the sight being more annoying than pleasing.

First, Piercing Strike had a Mark.

Second, Beatrix Lulamoon possessed an unsurpassed skill in taking on a face of Most Definitely Not Jealous, Keeping the Family Hearth Alive Trixie, and Starlight swore to not call her out on her hypocrisy ever since that second time when their personal relations somehow became a matter of lively societal conversations and utterly misleading gossips for a better half of both Littlehorn university and that summer. Moreover, Trixie was not doing that consciously, it was just the mood forcing her to appear worse than she usually was, and Trixie being Trixie.

And third, this night Trixie was not supposed to be here at all: the day before yesterday she went, to say it in formal language and completely ignore the essence of the trip, "on a diplomatic visit to Her Majesty Queen Chrysalis" where she was supposed to stay at least for a whole week.

Like many ponies, Starlight preferred a two-story apartment for living: the lower floor for day-to-day job and receiving customers, the upper floor for sleeping, relaxing and other ways of personal life, admittance on which could be given only to the closest relatives or friends, or, quite occasionally, visitors of exceptionally large parties who did not fit on the first floor. And it was not like Starlight threw said parties often — or, to be frank, ever.

Trixie's sleeping body floated to the top floor along the steep stairs — Starlight took care that the body would remain asleep with an additional pulse of magic. She retrieved the stetson hat and pulled it to her — for later delivery to the true owner — as soon as she was sure that Trixie herself could not be seen behind the bend of the stairs.

During this time, Piercing Strike managed to: get to the door and pull it; make sure it is locked; dash to the closed window and start seeping through the glass, which, apart from Princess Luna herself, only Canterlot batponies and some thestrals were able to perform; and finally, squeak indignantly when securely captured by Starlight's magic. The unicorn slowly and smoothly pulled her back into the room by the bat’s hind legs — the glass bent and waved, and the batpony, whose front half was soaked all over again, looked and smelled even more miserable than before — and put Piercing Strike in front of her.

“Well, are you going to run away... again?” Starlight asked.

Piercing Strike shook her head, “N-no... will you feed me to thestrals now, Lady Glimmer?

Starlight froze and stared into Piercing Strike's face. She doesn't seem to be joking. Poor thing.

“What are you thinking, dearie?” Now Starlight herself stepped closer to hug the bat, “Thestrals haven't eaten ponies for a long, long time. Even the most predatory of them. Even when no one sees them. I know that for sure.”

The bat quickly nodded and relaxed, if only slightly. Starlight covered them both with a bubble of silence and whispered in Piercing Strike's ear, “I promise I won't give you up to anypony, and I won't make your issue public. We'll deal with this together, but not in the way you suggest. Losing the Mark is not an option, I assure you! The Mark is your talent and destiny, without it you will be weak and sad. We don't even subject criminals to this, let alone pretty decent and cute foals... okay? Do you believe me?”

Starlight waited for a nod and a weak "Yes, but ..." in response, and continued, “No ‘but’! Even if this is a bad Mark, which I have seen only once in my life, if the worst comes to worst, we can contact the Mark, ask it for clarification and details, and then…”

Piercing Strike, without the slightest warning, rushed away and jumped out of the bubble. Opening her fanged mouth, flashing rows of sharp teeth, she let out a shrill, denying scream, in which there were no words but pure anger, disagreement, rejection. Starlight fell to the ground, clutching her head between her front legs — even through the wall of the bubble, the screeching was unbearable, she wanted nothing but silence and deafness, and even the chains of spell patterns worked out in advance for exactly this case just could not appear in her mind.

The scream just as suddenly broke off with a short cry of acute pain and surprise, then another one, and another, and each next one was quieter than the last. The rapid clatter of oranges, scattering on the floor and rolling through Starlight's tearful field of view, emphasized the blessed silence.

Starlight did not rise for a fairly long time. Her ears were ringing, her vision was blurry, and magic was still out of reach.

Trixie, visibly shaken too, with ears drooped and eyes wide, walked over to her and stood by her side, letting Starlight lean on her. Starlight blinked and found Piercing Strike. The batpony was sucking the juice out of the fourth orange; the fifth and sixth, yet untouched, lay on the carpet of the study, while the first three there were nothing but dried skins. The wine from a shattered bottle flowed from the carpet to the floor, foaming.

Trixie smelled of ash, oranges, crab apple alcohol, and a little of what Starlight might have mistaken — and used to mistake — for Applejack, until she learned to pick up on the very subtle sourful and acidic difference between the scents. Starlight buried her nose in Trixie’s coat and rested for a while, blinking watery eyes. Then she sighed and with an unwanted and involuntary reluctance said to her wife, “Thank you. But how did you guess?.. How did you know that oranges are a substitute for blood for…”

Trixie blinked, "Me? Guessed? I just threw the first thing I saw at the bat!”

Starlight saw a sly spark in her eyes, and did not insist.

“Why did you come back so early?” she asked instead.

“Well…” Trixie drawled.

Chapter three, in which Silent comes uninvited, and nopony minds

"It was the Queen who came back," Trixie said.

Starlight inhaled, and for a moment forgot how to breathe.

Trixie smiled, “Yes. She's here in Littlehorn right now, in person. With not a drone sent in advance. It's her mission, and hers alone — but Trixie followed the Queen on her own. Trixie… — I care."

Starlight massaged her forehead with her hoof, glanced at the bat — she, draining the last orange through a pierced peel, walked on unsure hooves towards Starlight, swayed forward and did not fall head-first only because Starlight reflexively lifted her hoof towards her. The unicorn could not resist curiosity and looked into the bat's wide open yawning mouth, knowing full well that she would regret it; and she regretted it indeed.

Starlight shook her head and looked down at Trixie — the greatest master of stage illusions of Equestria and neighbouring countries, and that was a genuine title for a few years at least — made herself lower a bit in not exactly bowing fashion, clearly assuming that news would not be appreciated, and she herself would be likely called out on this.

These assumptions were exactly on point, and that was why Starlight chose, willingly, not to be angry.

Instead, she sat down on the floor, placed a quietly snoring bat to the side and slightly in front of herself, thus providing body warmth, and said in her most frank voice, "My wife, I have a few questions now."

To Starlight’s relief, her eye was not twitching yet.

Trixie nodded, “I… guess. But Chrissy said it was important! For all changelings, and for both of us too.”

“And you believed her?” Starlight asked incredulously. “She’s... unstable, to put it mildly, since she had been paroled. It could be a fantasy. It could be ravings. And more importantly, I do not remember a clause in the peace treaty that would allow her to visit Equestria’s major cities and magic nexuses outside of her enclave without admission and escort,” Starlight tilted her head, “Or rather, I remember exactly the opposite! What would you say, Trixie? This is about state security. Personally, I have another question: why didn’t you find a place for making love other than my own desk?! And why in Applejack’s image of all ponies, not Twilight’s one as last year, the year before last... and, I’ll be frank, always since you, so to speak, became friends?”

“How did you know?” Trixie asked in surprise. Somepony less experienced would take it at face value; Starlight knew better than that.

“The smell,” Starlight retorted, "I could have had a doubt hadn’t you said she is here."

Trixie was decent enough to blush a little, “Chrissy wanted to have a dig at you. To prank you — she doesn’t want vengeance anymore, but a prank or two is on the table! And she said that you will not be mad for too long, and she needs more power to scan the city,” she hesitated and looked at Starlight.

“Go on, please,” the dean asked quietly and weary, “Tomorrow I would need to explain myself to Princess Luna and Princess Twilight, and I want to know what is happening beforehoof. And I will be incredibly lucky if Princess Rainbow Dash, out of her laziness, skips this debriefing. You can't make anything worse than you already did. What I mean is that if there were no alarms triggered, then somepony has disabled Littlehorn's perimeter security. Somepony. Whose name starts with ‘Bea’ and ends with ‘Trix’,” Starlight snorted angrily, took several deep breaths in Twilight's manner to calm herself, and continued, “And you know how I hate secrets of all sorts, and Chrysalis, due to the treaty, is not in a position to weave intrigues.”

Trixie hugged her, taking a couple of steps away from the bat who was still sleeping, “Okay, don't be angry. Consider — Trixie shares family and state secrets now, for your sake, Glim-Glam! So, hear Trixie out, and please keep it a secret where Trixie could not resist your beautiful face: among Littlehorn's students there is a changeling from the other world — one who had been hatched in hiding from the Triangle of Moons. The Queen needs to meet them.”

Starlight blinked, “Are they even in their own form?” she asked, her hope fading but yet twinkling. Even in the motley crowd of creatures permanently living and temporarily studying in Littlehorn, a changeling from the night eternal, or, shorter, a slender by the name instantly given by those few ponies who actually saw them without disguise would have stood out about like a watermelon among oranges, or like Rainbow Dash with all her regalia of the Princess of Unity at the Apple family party. There was no way for Starlight to miss the slender.

"Of course not," Trixie shrugged, “The Queen emphasized this. As well as that she will need to track down the target, and this is one of the conditions for their meeting, set by the slender. If she can’t track them, she is not worthy to talk to.”

Starlight petted the sleeping bat to distract herself, and muttered under her breath, “Well, I could sweep the city with a decloaking spell array—”

“Don't! It's a dirty trick, it will disrupt the whole meeting and Chrissy will be offended!” Trixie almost screamed, hugging Starlight tighter and making a pleading look.

“I mean, you're asking me to become a partner in crime,” Starlight stated without a question. “And we're going to do it because Chrysalis said that 'It is important for changelings,' right? And you can't even check if this is true or not. Okay. And Chrysalis is... a little out of her mind. By the way, who took control of the enclave as a temporary queen? Thorax?” She attempted an awkward joke.

Trixie giggled in response — they both knew that Chrysalis and Thorax had been writing additions and appendices to the peace treaty for several months, and only working on it allowed them to share mushroom tea in a relative calm without turning to the ritual threats.

“No, and you won’t believe who did,” Trixie winked, “Ocellus.”

“Ah! Well, yes, she asked me for a vacation the day before yesterday. But if you’d ask me... I wouldn't even think about her. She isn’t fit to be the queen at all. But since you say, I believe—”

Starlight’s horn subtly ached, as if it was leaned against a thin wall behind which there was a lively argument. Starlight rubbed it at the base, glanced at Trixie, who winced at the same time, and, without looking back, pulled the kettle and cups out of the closet. She put the kettle on the stand to warm up, and said, “Hi, Si. Summoned by the scream? I thought you would appear either earlier or not at all.”

An obsidian black thestral in a beige hooded blazer unhooked from the chandelier and flipped in midair, gliding towards the teapot. Subtle aroma of coffee and strawberries trailed behind him. Silent's head was turned toward the unicorns and the batpony.

Taller than both unicorns, he was slim and thin and thought words like a shy teenager, without much confidence, as if asking permission to be, “Noisy one.” Starlight heard his voice in her thoughts almost like an actual sound.

Starlight nodded, “Even Trix was hurt by it.”

Trixie retorted with a startled laugh, “Attentive and Caring Trixie has heard screams ten times louder and invasive in the changeling nymphs’ hatching cells, and survived unscathed!”

Both of them thought they heard Silent's quiet laugh, which was not there, and both short silvery horns on the sides of his head gleamed with grayish darkness.

Starlight asked, "By the way, isn't she your breed? I understand that this is impossible, but you never know.”

“I'm not sure,” Silent replied curtly, but curiosity flickered in the background of his mind.

“And yet l... I promised that I would not give her up to anypony, but maybe you have some advice or ideas?” Starlight asked.

“Can I examine her? Do you know where she is from?” Now Silent’s curiosity has become brighter.

“Only at a distance. She is very afraid of thestrals. And here are the letters on the closet’s shelf,” Starlight pointed at it with her hoof, “The mail came from Baltimare, but that doesn't mean anything, as we have a portal there. Maybe some of the locals.”

“Can I have a look at them? Will not read them. Will check paper and envelopes.”

Starlight nodded; the thestral shifted to the closet and began to study the letters. As time went on, Starlight poured cups of tea for all four present ponies and pushed the bat gently; she raised her head in an instant, jolted awake, looked around and froze with her brown eyes wide open and staring at Silent. The tea with the mango slices in her cup, however, was waning slowly. Trixie was mostly successful in distracting her with small magic tricks, but the bat's gaze still returned to the thestral.

Finally he turned around and asked her, politely including unicorns into his mind’s voice too, “Sister, were you trained for the purpose, or had your way been different? I can guess the sources of such mutations, and what to do to achieve this state, but there are options.”

The bat sobbed and replied through shedding tears, “No, my teacher has nothing to do with it! I was fooled! The Mark! P-please just remove the Mark and everything will be fine!

Trixie asked, "Does the doctor see anything interesting? Any suggestions? For Trixie, it’s just a bat, but Trixie is not a specialist in bats. But she scared Starlight!”

Starlight furiously blushed and waved her hoof, but she didn't argue: after all, it was true.

The thestral bowed his head. His lips, sewn with silver thread, weren’t moving, “It is important what the path was. Birth or transformation. I'm not an expert on Marks, but I can't figure out what exactly you don't like in it. A decent option.”

The batpony snuggled up to Trixie and sobbed, “Not a birth. In the summer I was a unicorn. And then in a quarrel they dared me to exchange…”

Chapter four, in which Twilight Sparkle reads by the Moon, and nopony bothers her

The minute Piercing Strike let out her scream, Twilight Sparkle woke up in her bed in Ponyville’s castle, vaguely anxious. This year not Canterlot but Ponyville was the residence of the Princesses in the interchanging order of the cities. It was not a bad dream — as Luna’s fellow traveler, Twilight had long been in control of her little domain of dreams and did not need nightmares from outside. And if something from outside were to overcome its boundaries, the effect would not be limited to a minor unease on Twilight’s soul.

Twilight rolled over on her stomach, stretched her whole body and unfurled her wings for a long moment, with a pleasant trembling in her legs, and pulled the unfinished Meadowbrook’s autobiography from the bedside table — among the Pillars of Equestria she was the last one who decided to tell about herself, and the only one who entrusted Twilight's help as an editor before sending the book to print.

Not that it could really help with what Twilight was worried about now — the Pillars went into limbo long before the start of previous Off-season, and could not tell the Princess of Friendship anything that would matter except "be yourself" and "rely on your friends" and, of course, "if nothing else helps, take the shovel". But Meadowbrook's clumsy and heartfelt prose was refreshing. Perfect for sleepy eyes and a still dormant mind.

“Nopony knew who I was. The ponies glared at me. But I knew that the infection was here. I was determined to win over it or succumb to... ”

Twilight turned the page and went deep into reading.

The Moon illuminated the book with a translucent white radiance, although there was no need for that, with Twilight's relatively new night vision.

Half an hour later, Twilight was ready to bet a dozen bits that the Moon was deliberately put there to stay. It was cute, but somewhat annoying and embarrassing. At the same time, Luna knew for sure that it would be annoying and embarrassing. Therefore...

"Princess, in case you have forgotten, I am actually an adult pony, and this is my room. Mine, not ours,” Twilight said quietly and sternly, spelling each word out and staring intently at the Moon.

"You have already plunged all the cycles into disarray!" Twilight decided to keep unsaid. If anypony was embarrassed by Off-season, it was Sisters, and then Luna was the first of them. it was happening with Luna and because of Luna, and maybe even by or through Luna — but not within her control.

Twilight recalled the last of five times she had seen Celestia crying; she heard her slow, smooth and still melodic voice in her memory, “If I had restrained myself then and reached an agreement with my sister, instead of war, instead of banishment... then this would not have happened, neither then nor now. Of course, I will rejoice with you, my faithful student. But in general... please excuse my imprecision but you seem to be writing, in the meaning, 'If you banish the alicorn not instantly, but as a process for several decades, and return her to Equestria with similar inhibition after the banishment's end, then the duration and strength of the Off-season to follow can be diminished by seven to eleven times in terms of time, by three to six times in terms of impact.' I believe you, my student Twilight Sparkle. But try to understand why I can only smile and hug you, and not announce a new holiday in honor of your brilliant discovery. Consider this your homework."

Twilight blushed.

Of course she understood it — later on. The day she got it, she decided what she would do for the coming decades as the Princess of Friendship. At the same time — even though neither she nor anypony knew about it then — Rainbow Dash’s Ascension was predetermined.

But that was years ago. Now she was deep into reading, and after fifteen minutes, out of the corner of her background attention, she noticed with satisfaction that the Moon went beyond the window frame.

Luna knocked on the door and entered. She was tactful enough to not distract Twilight from the book; Twilight, in turn, read no further than the next two pages, until the end of chapter eighteen. After that, Twilight turned to Luna and looked her over.

Luna was still smaller than Celestia and still taller than Twilight, albeit only slightly in both comparisons, and generally looked almost the same as in photographs from Shining and Cadence's wedding. For more attentive eyes, such as Twilight's ones though… There were many subtle changes from that awkward Princess who once had been trying to hide her utter perplexity and confusion, with whom Twilight spent Ponyville’s Nightmare Night — the length of the horn, the shape of the pupils, the shape of the ears, the shade of the coat. Only a pony who fell asleep then and woke up now, years later, would have picked up on them straight away. One just awoken from a long slumber could ask what happened in the world, and among other things, they would definitely be told about Off-season.

Off-season had already begun then and continued now — it was more obvious now but no less inevitable. In those days long gone, who would have noticed that the Moon was shining brighter, especially in the months of autumn? Who would have heard the lines of peculiar songs in the swamp winds? Who would have seen that the blood of accidental wounds coagulate less readily?

In fact, relatively many would have.

Children of the Night, for example.

Twilight found her solace in the knowledge that it was too late to prevent the Off-season. Even on their first Grand Galloping Gala, it was too late. She constantly reminded herself of this. And not everything was bad about it — Starlight Glimmer, for example. Beatrix— Trixie. Chrysalis, too, in recent years. Et cetera. She could remember many actually good ponies and other creatures that were, stealthily, awoken, driven and motivated by the coming Off-season.

She couldn't stop feeling guilt in her heart.

She put the book down on the nightstand and blinked, looking at Luna, trying to drive away her tears.

Luna came closer, hugged her, dragged her deeper into the bed, and until the imminent rainbow dawn everything was mostly fine.

Chapter five, in which Piercing Strike is offered to get rid of the annoying neighbour

Baltimare is the frontier city. In the east, it all but plunges into the narrow Celestial Sea, beyond which the griffons’ continent lies. To the northwest, next to its six- or ten-story humble towers — this singular ponies-built true city of south-eastern edge of Equestria is of no comparison to the skyscrapers of Manehattan — is a dense mixed forest of pines and cedars. Locals call it Long Forest for a reason: those who can find cardinal points and keep walking south or north leave it quickly, but along the barely used railroad that goes north-west to central Equestria, Long Forest stretches on the north side for days and nights, silently peeping into windows, touching trains’ roofs with coniferous paws, leading passengers to its viscous resinous dreams.

The mines north of Baltimare are still inhabited by non-ponies, especially hectic in recent years, and only to the south foals can really walk carelessly, diving into grasses of high plains, basking in the warm sun and catching the salty wind of the nearby ocean on their coats. The wind is quite safe too — the ancient pact with sirens and their mentors, lamias, is still in force and in action even during Off-season, so there are no unnecessary voices in this wind, unless one goes out into the southern plains after midnight by the full Moon; but even then moonlight will be gentle and surely will not harm the maybe-casual listener.

Piercing Strike — it was the real name of a pale grayish-blue unicorn with big scarlet eyes — hadn't really loved the sun for as long as she could remember, even before she and her family moved to Baltimare. She could put up with it, especially when the pegasi’s special detachments corralled loose clouds to the better half of sky, distributing moisture coming from the ocean with powerful winds. But in the summer — thanks to the Princesses, a short summer, although her mom said that it used to take three or four months — she went out of her room only on three occasions: either to school, or for the big Summer Sun Celebration, or closer to night, when the air stopped being a quivering white haze.

In general, she had no real friends. A lateborn foal, sick one on top of that, and — as she understood much later — there was a reason why adult neighbors were whispering, "They say her parents give her blood", "You can't believe them at all, not a word they say, and check their bits too — they could be fake for all I know!", "You’ve looked into the second row of books in their bookcase? There is dark magic, I’m telling you!”.

But what can you do with adults? Younger ponies did not refuse her though, whether they were her nieces or classmates, never passing up a chance to drop in for a visit at her home, or to share a hot bun, or to recommend a good book to read. The adults did not allow their minors to linger next to her for long — long enough that would matter.

Piercing Strike learned to read very early, by the age of four. She learned to dream about a big city enveloped in a summerish shallow twilight a little later, by five. Even later, on her sixth birthday she saw the first photographs from an alien world behind one of Littlehorn’s great portals, and begged her mom to make her a present despite mom’s obvious reluctance — not just separate photos but the entire album.

Even a wandering merchant — a middle-aged earth pony, shaggy from the endless roads — was again and again asking her in surprise if she really wanted this particular volume, “There is nothin’ to read, you see. Only pictures. You will be bored, little one. They are strangers. And don’t get me started on how much they exhausted me while I was bargainin’. If I had the seed from the Tree of Harmony, they'd say it was too small, and if I had the gem from Princess Celestia’s torc they'd say it was gaudy. They took some of my honest bits, as if they’re doin’ me a favor. I’d need to find somethin’ else for a change, or tell a story about Equestria... oh well, let it be. I'll give you twenty percent off the whole album, ma'am. Even twenty-five for those eyes. By the way..." he went to Glancing Strike and whispered to her, thinking that the little unicorn would not hear; she heard and remembered, but that day neither understood nor considered it important, buried in the album, "A special filly… not easy to raise her, I imagine?"

"No. I am fine," her mom sternly said.

She was barely looking up from the album for months. She was going to bed with it, bringing it along to school, to the yard, to the roof. The dragonfly-like wings of aircrafts, so unlike ones of pegasi; wide open milky white or pale blue terraces and rooms, glowing from the inside, marked with thin columns along imaginary borders; tall, slim and fragile ponies, always at a distance from each other, but always as if tied together by invisible force; iridescent shine of the sky illuminated by either one or two giant moons; avenues converging to a point above the horizon; dunes of snow sparkling in the night, neatly uneven, attracting the eye with each evidently excess hole or hill of a meticulously designed structure made from fleeting material; power transmission towers, thin and expedient, resembling the one next to which she liked to read outdoors the way porcelain resembles clay; a giant hemisphere woven of triangles from which a blinding white ray shot up into the sky.

Even holding the answer literally before her eyes — there were enough solo portraits in the album, including close-ups — she did not immediately understand who was looking at her from the mirror, and even more so she did not immediately find the right question to approach her mother.

The preparation for the question also took time and effort. First, it was necessary to guard and reinforce her firm belief that she really was neither a burden on mom’s back nor an adopted filly — otherwise her little campaign would have ended in futile tears even before the question. Had she failed this step, she would not be able to return to the topic, never again, because with each attempt she would have imagined the worst in advance: bitter tears were already rising to her throat, threatening to make her breathless, wordless.

Last but not least, she needed to figure out how exactly foals’ features are determined by biology. In this she was equally helped by books and acquaintances. Of course, she was confused at first, but the aspect of reproduction that Piercing Strike was most interested in was using methods of math, and in this field the little unicorn felt at ease; so, going forward with the question, she was already sure that her appearance is not accidental, and the question was spelled out, face to face.

The concept of adultery flew through her big fluffy ears without stopping, but she caught the result and meaning, and believed that she should not talk to her dad about it. Glancing Strike was afraid that her daughter would stop caring for her father and loving him, would register him as a stranger — but, of course, that was the worry of a silly grown up mare. Long walks with her dad, diving into a quiet and dark forest, picking up mushrooms and his stories about life and long hikes to central Equestria — it was absolutely irreplaceable, although sometimes her stomach was ticklish with a pleasant anxiety, and she honestly promised her mother that she would neither actively look for her biological father nor would she be angry with him would he appear out of nowhere due to his incomprehensible reasons.

The years passed, the disease gradually progressed, there were fewer friends and there were fewer walks, but those that were remaining mattered more; she learned to cling to her father's back like a little filly and ride on him that way. She could avoid her weakness, catch his warmth and admire the large and bright world around; the sun, however, was still annoying, and she still heard even the quietest vile whisper from the other side of the street. Also, if she closed her eyes, she almost began to see the world through the eyes of other ponies. This talent slowly grew in her, and at some point it was enough to say a pony’s name to herself and imagine a face in order to see and understand where this pony was, what they were doing, where they were going and what they saw before them.

So she rested, lying in her bed and learning to look at other ponies’ lives, in which she was not weak; but Piercing Strike never told her parents about this talent, reasoning that it would be better to help them than worry them. And indeed she helped them several times, warning in advance about unwanted guests, about good news in the mail and about a lost distant cousin who was visiting the city on her way to griffons; she made sure these uses are few and far between, so adults would write it off to accidents and coincidences.

She asked her mother to pick up more materials for her about the world lying on the other side, and — when the order landed in their yard in the form of two heavy wooden boxes — she swallowed a hundred of books and albums over a few weeks’ course, then made up a separate rack for them to keep nearby.

What was not going away with time, contrary to her breath and her hooves’ strength, was the ridicule and barely diluted poison in the words of adults, and now that she knew that in many ways adults were right, it was rather difficult to say to herself “They’re just stupid” and move on as it had been in early foalhood.

Questions came to her. They hung off her mind and did not rush her anywhere. They were staying with her, waiting for her to decide and give an answer, "Am I Equestrian?", "Is my home there, behind the portal, or here, with my mom and dad?" "Are my dreams mine own or alien?", "Do they love me here?", "Do I want to return home?", "Am I needed here?" and no matter how hard she tried, not all the questions were answered similar to mathematics textbooks — accurate, unambiguous and unchanging.

That was her life, and often she was deeply lost in her musings, only to wake up from the polite but still too loud call of the teacher, or from her father's question "What are you thinking about, little pin?", until one quiet starry night she decided to change the playfield, rules and goal altogether and to split herself into two ponies. She designated these two new Piercing Strikes ‘Solar’ and ‘Lunar’. Then she replied to the questions from both sides of the mirror glass.

It worked, and she learned to wear the right masks and be herself either way.

The body belonged to ‘Lunar’ Piercing Strike, thus ‘Solar’ was left with a guest role, staying there to make good-natured contacts with Equestrian ponies. Over time, they sometimes began to quarrel over who would be outside and in control more often... but in general, they took care of each other. Also, by this time they both knew they had a friend — exactly one true friend to stay at their side.

And yet, after one short summer she got an offer and a chance to get rid of the duality by separating the extra part into her own — healthy! — body, she could not help but think about the offer. Melting from the unbearable heat, screwing up her eyes which were burning even despite the glittering curtains over the windows, Piercing Strike, fractured along her two personalities, disagreed right away—

—and was ready to agree.

Chapter six, in which Starlight Glimmer is pleased and not even suspicious too much

Starlight was lying on the carpet, with a few cushions tucked around her and under her chest. She was smiling softly, hearing the bat out and recalling years spent in Baltimare with serene clarity. Best times of her life, as she once said to Trixie — cocky respected cult leader, timid paroled criminal or assertive star student of the Princess no more, she simply was there, a good pony among good ponies, in the quiet corner of Equestria hidden far away from any hustle and still big enough to be enjoyed by the city and avoid boredom. Her being the seventh of the six, adventures were finding Starlight even there, and word of mouth eventually praised her for being an excellent tutor in magic disciplines, so recently she took a hint from destiny, and returned closer to the hearts of the realm.

In two years that have passed since her return, she made a few notable achievements.

First, she made peace with Twilight. Not like they were at odds before that, but there had been a reason to move out of Twilight's direct reach and sever communications, for a time. Romantically coloured reason, Starlight noted for the sake of honesty; but it was not shaming her anymore, and rivalry between them — one they acknowledged and agreed to support — was healthy and driving.

Second, as it was predicted for years in advance, she faced her nemesis, Queen Chrysalis, and while not winning the battle despite exhaustive training and meticulous preparations, had won a delaying action. Starlight managed to capture the Queen along with herself in the bubble of frozen time, thus greatly hindering the Terrible Trio’s advance to Canterlot. Not long after the battle, with Canterlot not even fully rebuilt yet, she raised her voice and passion for Queen's release, and took a part in making terms and conditions for said release, as well as in coding these in intricate vow that Chrysalis managed to avoid after all.

That was the most complex, fragile and nonetheless immutable spell Starlight — and, likely, anypony else ever — has woven. It would, by design, keep its hold on Chrysalis against all known dispelling methods, not excluding Silent’s directed effort, until the Queen’s death, when the main power source for it would be depleted. Despite that she was happy — now, not then, as then she was furious — that her vow, her perfect foal, was, after all, declined thanks to Beatrix Lulamoon’s petition which was unexpectedly granted by Twilight and Luna. The vow was not breaking the ‘true, long-term, mind control is impossible’ general rule of the cosmos; still, it was approaching the limit so intimately that the cosmos, at least for a few esoteric theories, might have retaliated. In the months after, Starlight has calmed down and agreed that Off-season in itself makes a problem big enough to avoid unnecessary complications.

Third, and most important, she became involved in Littlehorn's birth — at the very final stages of building, but still not too late to point out a misaligned arc in the prosperity rune drawn by the citadel's towers and buildings. More than that, she got to be a Dean of a faculty created in accord with her own proposal.

One who learned nothing from history would argue that faculty of counter-manipulation is unnecessary, and trust could be eroded by the very examples of deceit. Thankfully, Princesses knew better. Not even counting Chrysalis and her success in Battle of the Bell, and discarding Flim and Flam, there were Discords's offsprings and Starlight Glimmer herself, and who would say there is no, for example, Aurora Spark somewhere in the frozen north, to make a most dangerous army of all — one which believes their corrupted leader?

That was why, trusting the bat in her unlikely story, Starlight was sometimes asking questions with a purpose anyway. Number of the house in which Piercing Strike lived? Fading Rose street — is it to the right or to the left on the shortest way from the home to the ocean? Where do ponies usually meet at Nightmare's Night? Shops, except fish ones, in the vicinity? Where is the library?

She was not straightforward at that; not enabling the full interrogation mode. Otherwise the bat could close up and refuse to speak further. Instead, Starlight gladly took her chance to recall Baltimare through the story — but she was making background notes in her mind, and, with Silent's help to keep track of them all, made a concise and final decision to trust Piercing Strike. The bat was making mistakes but only in true agreement with the spirit of her legend, as a young, well-read but closed-in filly would slip, and did not miss anything that she should remember with her supposed profile.

Trixie was uncharacteristically quiet, and by the look of a stranger could appear feeding on Starlight's sweet nostalgia, her eyes wide open and tongue stuck out a little. Starlight was not a stranger, so she knew it was a fact rather than appearance; she did not mind sharing her joy with her wife. Being, in effect, sub-Queen of changelings was, after all, making a mark on Trixie.

The bat avoided everything that could lead to the Mark’s acquisition story like sentient snow would keep clear from the night fire — like it was a literal death threat; and Silent’s direct and honest question turned her into a coiled and disheveled ball of purple fur which was in a sore need of empathy and excuse cocoa. Starlight and Trixie made a few cups of their joint secret recipe, and took their time with the delicacy too; thanks to Trixie's special ingredients acquired from the enclave it was bonding in more ways than one, and they diluted the bat's fear together.

Still, they were curious, and willing to help Piercing Strike, so Silent thought the next obvious question, “Do you want to return your body?”

The bat shook her head in definite ‘No’. Starlight shrugged; she would never give away her magic, but as long as the pony would be happy…

“Oh, Trixie is interested, could you look through others’ eyes now? It would be helpful at Trixie’s shows… if she would make them, of course!” Trixie glanced at Starlight, and Starlight made sure to frown at her; Trixie knew that her present lifestyle barely allows her to ride with her shows all over Equestria — that wagon had been long departed. Trixie had been taken captive more than once at these shows, as a valuable and mostly defenseless hostage. In fact, Starlight and Chrysalis were using her as bait to lure out suspected wrongdoers. Still, Trixie dropping her teasing would not be Trixie.

“No...” that was actually said out loud, “I can’t anymore. That power belongs to ‘Lunar’, the unicorn.”

That was actually comforting for Starlight if disappointing for Trixie. Who could say which secrets of Littlehorn might Piercing Strike pick up, or have already picked up for that matter?

“So, you agree with the exchange, no turning it back. Honest deal?” Silent thought.

“Yup,” the bat said.

“When you got the body, had there been the Mark already? It is important, speaking of its exchange or revocation,” Silent was curious, and helpful. Apparently, the bat’s — or the unicorn’s — love for books was appealing to him.

“No! It appeared not even a month ago!” the bat was panicking again, and Trixie, wincing, came closer to hug her.

“I have two pieces of news for you. Do you want to hear the bad one first?”

“Yes...” Piercing Strike whispered.

“Children of the Night know the Mark is a mere reflection of a spark on the body. To remove the mark is to fight the rain by draining the puddles. The pain and disappointment await the foal on this road. The spark will stay, and it will call for a mark.”

“Good one, then?” Piercing Strike looked at Silent, her despair mixed with a weak hope.

“Not the worst of the dark signs you have. The body affects the Mark too. Puddles in the forest and on paving stones are different,” Silent tilted his head, “The foal needs training to become one with their sign and spark, and to find harmony inside. Just remember, every road has two sides. Your stiletto can kill and it can heal.”

Starlight whistled and looked at Trixie. It was rare, and somewhat funny, that Silent was dabbling into poetry and philosophy. She did not laugh; the idea was correct, and actually included into one of Starlight’s own lessons.

“So you suggest I should find a teacher,” it was not a question, “I had a few— I mean, my past body had a few. They were mean.”

“You can say so. Although the path of self-knowledge is considered more honorable and more difficult. It hardens and often opens new roads that were hidden before, but it is thorny and full of pain and disappointment. It is difficult to keep the dark spark pure by yourself. It's easier with a teacher, but with teachers you go the way they lead you on… and my teachers were mean too,” Silent smiled at that.

“Could you at least tell us how you did the body exchange? It’s not truly impossible, changelings, in a sense, do that constantly, but I did not hear of anything like that before,” Starlight asked.

Piercing Strike looked at her, took a pause, sighed and said, “Maybe. I have a promise to keep, but I can tell something… that does not directly break it. This past summer, four teenagers came to Baltimare. I looked at them — they were without adults, and they were… reminding me of edgers I have read about...”

Chapter seven, in which Piercing Strike is actively discouraged but still goes where she wants to

Piercing Strike could observe these teenagers only rarely through somepony else's eyes. Baltimare was not her domain, and she had no true control over the city—

***

“That is, your mighty sight is not all over Equestria,” Trixie remarked in a business manner, not unlike Starlight’s own, and immediately shot a glance at Starlight and raised her head proudly; Silent laughed softly.

***

—that was why she never knew their names. The four neither called each other by name nor introduced themselves to other ponies, behaving like they had no names at all! They were a collective disaster like edgers at least in spirit, if not to the letter. While they did not confuse other ponies’ ways, never made ponies follow them to disasters, and not a single shop fell a victim of their exchange-slash-robbery — the three most exemplary cases of edgers’ behaviour — they meddled with the reality of the city. Statues at squares and reliefs on buildings looked in a new way — surprised, enthusiastic, frightened. New shops appeared from nowhere in place of a wall that had been there yesterday, and closed after a couple of days, leaving accidental buyers with weird artifacts on their hooves. On the south side of the city, the slightly pale grass formed an image of the giant face, and it stuck out the tongue for the pegasi.

And the bustle was affecting the spirits too: a polyamory fad ran over the city, families formed and disintegrated, long-standing rivals made peace out of the blue, and it rained for a whole hour less than the scheduled time.

It was a challenge. It was fresh air in her reclusive chamber. It was lively and provoking.

At first, Piercing tried to learn how to align herself by eyesight without calling a name. In that case it would be possible to search for them by chaining her presence. The talent was annoyingly slowly tumbling in her soul; she swayed on the edge, as if trying to fall from the roof — and yet she could not drop along a thread into somepony else's gaze. The ability was there, she could feel it, and just… could not.

After that she turned to the family, and was discouraged, realizing that all of them — every single one of adults, with two exceptions — could guess about her ancestry if not outright knew it, and assume that they are inherently better than Piercing. Untainted, so to say. So they were politely refusing to help her in anything at all that would matter for herself only. To put it bluntly, they were waiting for this page of family history to be finally turned over and forgotten, along with a dirty splotch on it; after all, they knew about Piercing’s disease too.

Only her father — one of these aforementioned exceptions — never gave her the certainty that he knows, although, of course, he should have. Through him, she contacted a weatherpony out of famiers, a distant Rainbow Dash’s relative, cozy and plumpish all around, who over a cup of hot coffee was not even amazed that much when being confided in Piercing's talent, just remarked with good-natured mockery "Unicorns go unicorny, eh?" There was not a trace of arrogance in her, even as nopony would be surprised at Cloudy Dessert trying to get into the limelight since Rainbow’s Ascension.

***

“Did you know why you were looking for them?” Starlight asked.

“For an adventure... I don't know!” The bat twitched her tail, and explained herself in a sharp tone, “When Lunar and I decided to split up in our mind… before we even knew that we will manage to stay apart in body too... we learned not to spy on each other if we want to hide something. We would not risk merging again; we should be as distant as possible, you see. So Discord knows why she really needed that gang…”

Starlight shook her head, but did not object.

***

Now Piercing had a high-altitude observation post — curious and sociable one. Once again Piercing felt that there was more than just observing — that she could, after all, talk to Cloudy Dessert, speak to her so that she could hear— she had so much more potential, tasted it, inhaled it—

—and it remained an illusion of grandeur.

Nothing but a mute spectator in the other pony’s head, she listened, smiling, to the endless Cloudy’s chatter in a great wide sky, as the pegasus knew about the presence. She replenished the stock of gossip, stories and legends, and tried to learn from Cloudy who in the city should be trusted immediately, or, on the other hoof, no earlier than getting to know them better. Starlight Glimmer, always paying her debts and triply providing Cloudy with generous subcontracts, was one of the former.

***

Starlight chuckled at that; Trixie and Silent asked how they would be estimated; the bat looked at them and did not answer.

“By the way, why didn't I hear about you myself before? We were in the same city for years,” Starlight asked, and the bat drooped her ears for a second.

***

Cloudy had tracked down the gang's daily routes, but Piercing couldn't even think about chasing them under the sun. Still, the area was known now, and from Cloudy the issue was forwarded, thanks to the pegasus herself, to ‘migrants’ — fruit bats from the Primordial North. They, in turn, spotted an abandoned house, to where the four sometimes were going to for the night.

The road itself took longer than it seemed to her before leaving the house — Baltimare clearly did not want to show her neither the area nor the stories associated with it, and as she approached the destination everything was more and more looking as if it had been abandoned half a century ago; not all of Piercing Strike’s maps even showed the block, and those that did help were sometimes insisting on taking eight steps backwards with her eyes closed. Nevertheless, her father accompanied her to the very point, occasionally trying to dissuade her.

She was unlucky at first; the first three days had to be spent in the company of a thermos, a box of tea bags, a kettle, canned mushrooms, an inhaler, a few pockets of chips, a large pack of biscuits, a compendium of rules and fields for single and group board games, and a plushy timberwolf. A spring for the teapot was found nearby, while the fire was with her all along — at the tip of her horn.

***

“The first night I had no sleep, you better believe me! Jumping at every rustle, scared of my own shadow, if not a tail!” the bat giggled.

“And the second night?” Trixie asked seriously.

“The second night too.”

***

When the four entered, jostling and joking around, Piercing Strike fainted in an instant.

They were changelings, and one of them was like Chrysalis, but not Chrysalis.

***

Larger than usual, more slim, with a crownlike crest, Silent substituted for her, then turned to Trixie, “The Queen is here with a purpose, isn’t she? She lost something on the other side. Something very important. To secretly penetrate Littlehorn without touching Littlehorn itself means going for the portal.”

Trixie pouted and nodded slightly, “These are your assumptions. Si. I don’t admit a thing!”

“Do you know something about them?” the bat asked.

“There are two options, and one is no better than the other. I have to speak in a roundabout way, I'm sorry. Either we do know who exactly you met then, which means this is a family affair of the ponies present here as well as Queen Chrysalis. Also, we have a royal scandal and contract violation at our hooves," Starlight glanced at Trixie, “Or you have made contact with slenders then, and I honestly do not know what to expect. Slenders should not have any interest in our world in the first place.”

“Maybe it’s both,” Silent chuckled.

“Who or what are slenders?” the bat blinked slowly.

“Later on. Tell us more, we are listening.”

***

Piercing Strike woke up from loud rustles and clicks right above the ear. The four stood over her, and now looked like ordinary ponies, about her age or older. Pegasus filly, maybe even mare, too well-groomed and sleek for these not-yet-ruins, an earth pony colt, who has already managed to get close to her book — Piercing tried to summon a bucket of pine cones above him, but her head was spinning and the spell pattern did not work out — then a purple batpony filly, seemingly the youngest of them, and a unicorn colt in a tracksuit.

Seeing that she woke up, they stopped speaking in changelings' tongue, and, one over another, began asking, "Honey, who are you?" The high, sing-song voice of the pegasus was a bit above the choir—

—"Hey, you okay?", batpony said—

—"Don't you see, you fool, that we need to move the base because of you?" the unicorn all but shouted—

—though this voice of the unicorn was overridden by the pegasus mare, "Never mind, he's a little jumpy"—

—"C'n I ha'e yo'r buk? Pliz", earth pony added, chewing the better half of the sounds.

"Let's take turns?" Piercing suggested with a quiet whine, rubbing her forehead.

***

Silent and Starlight looked at each other and facehoofed, then turned to Trixie, who said not too convincingly, "I have nothing to do with it!" and looked away, huffing.

Starlight sighed and said slowly, "Now I know. It's the former of the options. Likely not slenders but family problems for sure. Piercing Strike, my dear, from now on, if you want us to help you, you need a Cosmic-Majestic access level. Those who you have met are themselves the secrets, the very existence of which is strictly not the public matter and knowledge."

Trixie tried to intervene, “Do you need to involve her? She is a foal!"

"It is necessary. When we justify the suffering brought to a pony by the benefit of the state, we lose the benefit in the end, and the pony still suffers. Also, we do trust those who did not betray the trust yet. I believe that I don't need to number out lectures and lessons on these principles for you, Trix.”

The bat drooped her ears, glanced at Starlight, then Trixie, then Silent, “What do you all mean?”

Starlight sighed, “I really can’t explain, until Princess Twilight elevates you to Cosmic-Majestic. How about tea, for now? I will tell the Princess that you have passed my and Silent’s background check, and that I vote for you.”

Solar Piercing Strike nodded.

Chapter eight, in which Twilight Sparkle organizes and delegates

Twilight Sparkle once again traced a neon green grid of symbols and runes through Piercing Strike, now from a different axis. Like the first time, the bat shuddered and closed her eyes, even as she had nothing to fear — scanning spells were totally out of notice by anything except sight and the sense of magic.

The green of the enchantment faded into the dim daylight of the window; the sky was filled with dense gray clouds, slowly drizzling at the pavement below. Piercing Strike, like Twilight herself, barely stifled yawns, but the lavender Princess was used to not getting enough sleep in days recent.

Turning to Trixie, the Princess of Friendship said with a sigh, “I am sorry. This is really not changeling, as you have said. I can say that I see a fairly healthy specimen of batpony species, Canterlot’s subspecies. It will not be difficult to identify her closest relatives, including her parents, brothers and sisters. You are talking about the transfer of the mind, and it looks like you are right for this matter too, as I do not observe non-background activity in the echolocation and thermolocation areas of the brain. “

The bat blinked, ‘What do you mean?’

Twilight sighed, “You do not use your head as a natural-born batpony would. You are an invader, in a sense.”

“Hm!” was the only thing that Offended but Steadfastly Enduring Persecution Beatrix Lulamoon deigned to answer. She was staring at the wall, or rather, at a joint photograph of Starlight and Chrysalis hanging on it, made in a somewhat provoking manner.

“I didn’t doubt it though,“ Starlight remarked with a smile, and made a pointed look at Silent, so that he thought Except for the most reasonable suspicions, right? not for everypony but for Starlight only.

Twilight hugged Trixie briefly from behind — Trixie didn’t pull herself away, licked her lips and thawed a little — and turned to Starlight and Silent, tapping softly with her hoof.

“I don’t see the need for Cosmic-Majestic either,” the Princess said sternly, “Her request for knowledge hidden behind this barrier could be fulfilled just fine without it. Piercing Strike has a Mark—”

To Starlight’s surprise, the batpony was next to total calm despite the mention of the mark, peering intently at the tall and slender Princess, at the muted shine of stars and galaxies in her tricolor mane.

“—and therefore deserves a treatment befitting an adult pony. Starlight and Silent, I expect that you will consider Piercing Strike’s petition and correct her troubled state. Piercing Strike, “Twilight turned her head to the bat who squeaked softly, “I also expect responsibility from you in helping yourself. Do you understand? Friends are ready to support you, and you will find them wherever you even look, but you must take a step forward. Is there a vow saying that you should not talk about your Mark? Or do you think that you will no longer be considered a good pony because of how you got it?”

The bat quickly nodded, squeaked again, and only then answered aloud, “It really was terrible, Princess…”

Twilight sighed, “I saw a pony who got her Mark after burning the library. We spoke with her and she is still alive. If the topic is too difficult for you to talk about it out loud in front of everypony, I or Starlight will listen to you in private. And I will say right away that I do not condemn those who eat meat. Otherwise, I would have to quarrel with all the griffins. I saw a family in which necromancy was passed from the eldest filly to the eldest filly for dozens of generations, even when no one had heard of the Off-season. I have invited spirits who drink joy into my house and sacrificed my dreams. Starlight and Silent could tell you no less. Trixie is likely to tell even more, isn't it, Trix?

Trixie snorted, “No comment. Family secrets. But The Great and Powerful Trixie is glad that you dared, in a way and in part, to admit her superiority!”

Starlight raised her hoof, “Twi, with all due respect… you still have a long way to go to treat foals properly. You gave a lecture about how great you are,“ Starlight paused and enjoyed the embarrassed look of the Princess, “and the filly here needs something different.”

Starlight went up to the batpony and hugged her, “The only thing Twi is right about is that no pony here will scold you for the history of your Mark. Even if you drank the blood from the one who offended you.”

The bat stared at her with wide brown eyes and made a tiny nod.

Starlight went on all four but did not step away. She looked at the bat intently, appraisingly, “Yeah, even in this case. Not in front of everypony, then. Maybe later you will write me an essay, or show me on dolls what might have happened with you, or maybe with somepony else. With the heroes of your fairy tale,” and in a whisper, “I guessed right?”

“Likely,” the bat whispered back.

Twilight cleared her throat, “I hope you have not forgotten that I am still here. Because there are no complaints about Piercing Strike, I will be ready to consider her enrollment in Littlehorn, but four questions remain. The first is who provided her the bat body; the one who entered into this kind of agreement with a filly without a Mark. Find them and ask them what they were thinking. Beatrix, for reasons known to you, you are in a team with Phoenix in this direction. The second is the body itself. If the original owner of this body died or was irretrievably exiled, I want to read it in the report. This will be the line of inquiry for Midnight. Beatrix, you send all the data about this to Midnight as soon as you learn anything from— from a pony you likely know, okay?”

Trixie turned around and replied indignantly, “No! Why should I even consider this? She is mischievous and arrogant!”

Twilight answered instantly, “Why? For a gala concert behind the portal, with an inexperienced and unknowing audience, all expenses are paid by Diarchy.”

Trixie paused, “Experienced and Knowing her own Worth, Trixie will think about it. Slightly Interested Trixie then asks if she would have diplomatic immunity.”

Twilight winked at her and continued, “The third question: find out how ‘Lunar’ Piercing Strike is now and question her side of the story too. This is a mission for Scar. And the fourth is the meeting of the Queen with her acquaintance in Littlehorn. What time is it due, Trixie?” then without waiting for an answer, “The refrigerator with desserts in the lobby is at your disposal. On the bottom shelf there are desserts for Queen Chrysalis. You can take them too.”

Trixie smiled slyly, "The Princess's word remains law, yes?"

Twilight nodded.

Trixie smiled wider, “If the meeting has not yet taken place, then she can arrive at any time until tomorrow morning.”

“And how can I recognize the Queen without global enchantments?” Twilight inquired.

“What can the Princess offer in exchange for this information?”

Starlight, hugging the bat, crept up to Silent, who silently offered them both a bucket of popcorn.

The trade promised to be long, and Twilight, carried away with it, paid no mind for them anymore, as well as Trixie.

Chapter nine, in which Piercing Strike goes for a fresh air, and Scar does not eat anypony

A weaker pony could be frightened by the Commander of the Night Guard, and in a different environment his appearance would be much more impressive. But even now he was making an impression: a powerful, strong dark stallion, in heavy armor, which clearly did not interfere with the flight of the thestral at all. The outer window sill crunched dangerously as the commander landed outside the window and peered through it into Piercing Strike the unicorn’s room, in one of Baltimare’s ten-story buildings.

As is usually the case in vampony tales, the thestral did not enter the room uninvited. As is usually not the case in vampony tales, the thestral actually could enter it.

The other ancestral world of Piercing Strike — mixed blood unicorn — was much more dangerous than Equestria. She knew that well. In her home, by and large, she had nothing to be afraid of. That she knew too. But the thestral was too big, and the unicorn herself was not as strong in protective spells as she would like.

And yet, all monsters in Equestria are sapient...

“Hi, monster. I can see you,” she said.

Maybe I shouldn't have called him that…” but this thought came with a delay.

“There are a lot of monsters these days. Those who love the Night, those who love the Forest and those who change their appearance,” the thestral replied with a fanged grin.

She cast a spell to ward off bad luck just in case. Even now, twice or thrice per week from early foalhood, she sometimes dreamed of the Forest entering the bedroom window, reaching for her with its branches, whispering the words that she once preferred to forget, throwing out the threads of a sticky web and—

Not a Long Forest. The Forest. This was something else; and the thestral named it right, pronounced it with the right click at the very end. With a sound that has never been found in Equestrian languages, except for griffin one.

“May I come in, Strike?” The thestral asked.

He knows my name. Of course he does. He will likely not name himself then.

She was not afraid of the vamponies. As she knew from the books, otherwise she should, with a few sidenotes, be afraid of all her relatives on the other side of the portal.

If one would ask the thestral, he — as he knew from personal experience — would likely say that there is no actual need to be wary, as vamponies are rare among ponies of the Triangle.

By saying this, the thestral would not tell the whole truth though.

"Of course, come in," Piercing Strike said, and smiled.

After landing in the room and taking almost a quarter of it — the air wavered even from a short and slow wing beat — the thestral touched toys scattered around Piercing Strike’s bed with his wing, and they came alive. They paraded around the thestral, then froze again. Piercing looked at them with curiosity and attention, not afraid — not fully a pony of Triangle, she knew what qualities are most inherent in the species of her biological father, and shared them. After all, if the thestral wanted to kill her, she would already be dead.

“Thank you, lady,” said the thestral, “Do you want to hear a story? If so, short or long one?”

The figures changed by the second touch of his wing. Changelings, Equestrian ponies, and thestrals were now on the floor of Piercing Strike's bedroom.

Ponies of the Triangle — Cartographers — were there too, in muted colours, graceful, long-legged.

"It's almost like being at home in S-sectors... Short one, please" Piercing said.

“Short, you say,” the thestral chuckled, “Twily would have had a nervous breakdown, but you’re not going to tell anypony about it. Among offsprings of Queen Chrysalis is a half-changeling without an innate caste, carried and born by a pony. He would like to consider himself king, but the queen of the hive is not an elected office, and indeed not a position at all. Ocellus is the queen, Thorax is the queen, but Haze is not. Recently, he has been trying to go to the Cartographers, but the Queen wants to keep him with her for her own purposes. I'm sure Haze has contacted you in one of his six guises, if not all at once. What do you know about this?

“Four guises,” Piercing corrected without giving much thought.

“Yes, four of course, how could I forget,” the thestral said, smiling.

Strike blushed: she was outplayed so easily. She, who dreamed of serving Blue Moon!

She pulled herself together and answered as if nothing had happened, “He was... this is not a topic on which I can speak freely, without breaking an oath or betraying friendship. Why is that bad? What's bad about it? Why should I deceive his trust?”

“Am I saying he did a bad thing, Strike? The question is different. Is it okay for you that a good pony feels bad? Is this a big price to pay if another pony, maybe even you, is happy instead?” the thestral tilted his head, as a questioning teacher.

Yes, she thought about it. She was ready to answer, “I think everypony was better from our decision. He made a trade honestly. It was a fair and equal exchange.”

She was again suffocating — in recent weeks, dyspnea visited her all but every night. Too often for her taste. Having caught her breath, she continued, “Solar pony wants to cancel the deal? If so, then I think she has the right. She decides for herself.”

“Not so fast,” the thestral laughed quietly, “The son of the cheese-leg queen always had a sense for good deals, where good means profitable for him.”

“Do you need help? Then say so,” Piercing Strike said, annoyed.

There was no more strength to speak, she breathed deep and often, and the whole world was closing in on the breathing process.

“It depends,” the thestral answered. “The main problem, or luck, is that a mother is looking for a son, while the son, it seems, is looking for distant relatives beyond the portal.”

“Then they both should find what they seek for,” Piercing exhaled, “If somepony would be looking for me, I would not want to remain lost.”

So, chewing on the mandarins brought in by the thestral, slowly choosing her words, she told him her story — the story of a pony, which, unable to withstand bullying, split herself in two, first inside, and then went for an unique chance to separate in bodies too. She asked that the mystery not affect her parents — including the real, non-biological father; and such a promise was given.

The thestral listened to her and nodded, “I see. The question is... do you agree to be alone?”

“Yes. I would really like to spend the last few rounds under the Moons, and do something good with Them and for Them. Just a little… to go home. Not for the biological father. I'm talking about another matter. You will not understand.”

He chuckled, and it was not clear whether he was joking or not, “Probably. I'm not the smartest and most intelligent of my kind. A smart one does not let himself be killed and does not try to take care of what should be food. It's a pity I can't help you on the road. Not my specialty.”

"It's okay though," admitted Piercing Strike, the unicorn, “My power is with me. If anything, it grows. I can look through the surrounding ponies. I don't feel like a prisoner. I help my mother and father. ‘Solar’ pony was bothering me. She was too close.”

The thestral smiled at her, “It's good that you help others. You are a good pony. That means I'm just a bad dream that will disappear when you wake up.”

Piercing Strike was late with her reply, the thestral turned for the window and bent down for takeoff.

“I want to fly with you,” she whispered, “If I'm too heavy, just say your name.”

“Do you think I can put this on my curriculum vitae as foalnapping a princess?” the thestral returned to her and bowed his front legs down beside the bed, “Please, my lady.”

Piercing Strike did not waste her energy on words. She just stepped forward and lay down on his back.

”Then towards the wind and the stars we fly, pony. It's time to see the world with your own eyes.”

The thestral jumped out the window, dived to the ground, opened his wings at the very cobblestones and flew up again, “The night is beautiful.”

Piercing Strike wanted to politely agree, but instead squeaked — quietly, heartily, and completely unworthy of the adult Herald of the Blue Moon, which she dreamed herself to see. The night really was beautiful, and there was no weakness in her for the moment.

In this flight, anyway.

Chapter eleven, in which scary things cease to happen, and Midnight Shadow takes certain precautions

There were barely any signs of autumn in the fast train to Manehattan. It was outside the window, in the gray-blue, cloudless but dark sky, in the wide dark river along which the rails ran, in the empty brick suburban streets. Inside, the floor and air in the compartment remained warm, and firefly lamps were almost as bright as summer's sunshine in the Season long gone.

So long gone that Midnight Shadow, the sole passenger of this compartment, hardly remembered when Princess Luna returned. She was only three years old then.

As such, for the youngest founder of Littlehorn there was no nostalgia for summer except for some rare uneasy dreams, nor could there be.

Had she been born a little earlier, she might have remembered a bright, simple time when every monster was just a monster.

Had she been much younger, she most likely would have regarded herself among monsters or other Children of the Night, at least in part. Her bloodline left her no other option.

As she was now, at her sixteen, five years younger than Cutie Mark Crusaders, she was a completely normal unicorn, one of Princess Luna's few students, but still normal. Definitely, she was more adept in formal magic arts now than Beatrix Lulamoon ever had been. Midnight Shadow strongly resembled Beatrix by her coloring, Mark and facial features. Nevertheless, despite persistent rumors, Midnight Shadow considered herself neither Beatrix's daughter nor rival.

As Piercing Strike admitted, or rather, that half of her that resided in the purple batpony body did, this body was indeed stolen, but Piercing Strike did not steal it personally, nor she paid up for it with money. Moreover, the one who gave the body to her also did not participate in the theft, but received it, in turn, from the previous carrier as an empty, ownerless vessel. The same was true for all the other bodies of the four who caused a commotion in Baltimare. Or so Piercing Strike said.

Yes, they were once born. No, they never had their own soul, mind, or consciousness… until other souls settled in these bodies to eventually pass them on.

Piercing believed her words. Midnight Shadow had her doubts. In fact, no mother would believe Piercing. Nor any adult pony who had a hint of a thought about bringing foals up to this world.

For the soul and name to not come into the body for months and months before birth, something outlandish had to happen to prevent the natural course of life. Midnight had trouble imagining what exactly, and a thorough search of the Canterlot libraries gave her not a hint.

Such a thing simply could not be; moreover, a polite request through the portal received an equally polite response that briefly and dryly amounted to the same. "It does not happen; and it never did."

However, this still did not mean the batpony was lying. All but a foal herself, save her Mark, she might not have known.

The Central Station of Manehattan greeted Midnight with hustle and bustle. She was almost knocked down by a small string of ponies departing either to the center or south of the continent. Rumors that after the fall there would be the winter of the same kind were irrepressible, so Twilight Sparkle simply took migration into account. Midnight knew that Off-season did not manifest that way.

She walked past the trading rows next to the platform. She noticed flowers for sale, both for decoration and food, and some of them, it seemed, themselves would not mind something living and moving in their spiky petals. She looked them over but did not buy anything, as there was no mint, no hops, while chamomile and lavender cost an outrageous ten bits for a small bouquet.

Last year in Fillydelphia one of the blood relatives of this impossible purple batpony's body had sought medical help due to a serious flying injury. From there, an investigation was a question of not overly complicated but meticulous paperwork.

Midnight had the address

Along the way she clarified the route a few times with passersby. Just in case, she sent a postcard to the capital saying she was almost there. Not that she feared anything, just that Manehattan had never been especially adherent to Harmony. Rather the opposite. This was often the case with large cities, and for Manehattan it was barely anything to be surprised about. It was said one could run into adventures here, and that everypony for themselves in the big city.

Or as the saying went, "Keep an eye on your tail in Manehattan."

Before the last stretch to the destination, she had a snack at a cafe on an open veranda across from the exact address.

The red brick warehouse looked uninhabited, yet was definitely listed as owned by and home to the local Strikes family branch. Next to it, providing a calming contrast, lay a well-kept green lawn, separated from the asphalt by a thin edge of gravel. Several nameplates along the lawn perimeter also confirmed the address; no fences.

Something about it bothered her more than a little.

When a pony converses with a low-ranking changeling, the first few minutes of conversation may seem normal, but sooner or later the fact that such changelings are physically incapable to maintain a detailed personality will show up. Reactions will be too primitive, emotions too crude, replies off-topic and out of sync; and though it is almost impossible to describe exactly what is wrong, instinct would tell you — this pony is a fake.

The warehouse Midnight was looking at could not be a changeling, but she had heard Piercing Strike's story, had changelings on her mind, and could not help matching one to the other. The windows were at the wrong height, the door was not high enough that a ladder would be needed but one would have to jump up to the doorframe, the roof slopes sloped by uneven angles—

She took a sip from the cup of lime tea brought to her. When she looked at the warehouse again, it looked absolutely normal.

Midnight shook her head and cast minor detection and illusion spells. They responded but yielded no answer. She continued with minor dispel as well, taking care that the patterns remained unnoticeable and the true form visible only to her.

There were no illusions... or rather, there were in the first few seconds, yet by the time of the second, more complex spell they were gone. She checked for influences on the mind as well. Spells returned to her without a definite response.

Midnight frowned again. She took another look at the response in the corner of her eye. It was neither "no" or "yes" with attached details. Not even "unknown" or "error", whatever error it may have been. Her spells worked correctly but brought no answer.

She wrote a report on three napkins and with a flash of magical fire sent it to Ponyville. She chuckled and asked the waitress what she knew about this building.

The olive yellow pegasus rubbed her forehead and replied, "Nothing special? It's always been here. Three unicorns live there, they trade with outsiders from the portal, Gentleponies, know how to tip and remember my name."

Midnight blushed a little, but did not ask for a name, as it would have been too awkward. Instead, she asked something else, "Can I see them?"

"Maybe day after tomorrow? On Saturday. They're only open on weekends."

Midnight raised an eyebrow, "Just on weekends, not weekdays?"

"Well, maybe it's more convenient for outsiders," the waitress twitched her wings. "By the way, I'm Swift Delivery, or just Deli."

Midnight giggled awkwardly, repeated her name as she paid for the tea and pastry, and headed toward the warehouse.

By the end of her shift, Swift Delivery had forgotten about this customer. While cleaning the veranda for the next day, she noticed a note stuck to the back of the table top, written in neat, flowing hornwriting and accompanied by a replica of a Mark: a white seven-pointed star inscribed in a white crescent moon:

"If I do not return and you read this, let Princess of Friendship Twilight Sparkle know that I am in trouble. Midnight Shadow."

On the way to the post office the pegasus forgot about it twice, but each time the note in her cloth bag reminded her with a mild electric shock to her right thigh, and she remembered.

Having sent the letter, she forgot about it for good.

Author's Note

Chapter one, in which Starlight Glimmer disapproves excessive secrecy

Central Equestria was now in its fifth straight month of autumn. Sometimes it was with drizzling rain, but more often skies were high and clear. Short cool days gave way to long chilly nights. It was such a night now, and Lady Starlight Glimmer, Dean of the Faculty of Counter-Manipulation and Self-Discovery, would have preferred a cup of cocoa, a blanket, and company of either one — or both — of her special ones.

But her addressee for a short and indistinct correspondence — specifically, a batpony that stood before her now — did not even want to take a passage through the Littlehorn’s gate, and, grumbling, Starlight did not insist much.

On the cheek of the young batpony there was a distinct creamy stain from Pinkie’s party — alike to Pinkie’s cutie mark, no less! — so in a certain sense she could already be considered a resident of Ponyville.

They weren’t in Ponyville though. The second capital was an autumn night on a west-north-west bound train away — or a step through one of five Littlehorn’s great portals.

The bat stepped forward and hugged Starlight tightly, gripping, looking into her face with luminous brown eyes, pupils slitted despite a dark night.

Judging by the height and weight, only slightly inferior to the unicorn despite their age difference, she was from the Canterlot breed, rather than from the fructivorous migrants from the north, and all the more surprising was this desire for physical affection. On the other hoof, there are griffons and then there is Gabby... Starlight thought, waiting and returning the hug to the best of her ability.

Finally, the batpony moved away, leaving a faint smell of chocolate, cinnamon and forest mud on Starlight's coat... or rather she did not move away, Starlight thought, irritated. The unicorn turned her head to the batpony — she stood to Starlight’s left now, touching her side.

Silence hung on, cold and heavy rain falling down on them until Starlight raised her cyan magic shield above both of them.

Starlight broke down first, “You are not a student. Neither are you Cozy. Nor are you relative to any of the Littlehorn students.”

At each statement, the bat nodded quickly and sharply, resembling the southern dummies that Fluttershy sometimes made.

Starlight inhaled and went on, “So why should I commit a crime for you? I have checked the codex, and even if you ask for Unmarking sane and sober and only for yourself, it is a crime anyway, by the special clause! Twilight will not punish me, you got that right. But ponies will gossip all the same, even if...” she turned towards the main gate to the Littlehorn that was behind her back. Three-quarters of the windows shone mostly yellow, sometimes red and orange — the university-slash-citadel did not sleep even at three in the morning. Some of the teachers were just finishing their breakfast at this point, not to mention a fair share of the students or monsters, “Even if we arrange the Unmarking right now. No magic could be hidden from an eye inquisitive enough, and this... I might as well light a conflagration with the ‘Starlight Glimmer gobbles foals’ fireworks all over it — and last time I checked this holiday was still far away!.. Have you visited the Cutie Mark Crusaders, for starters?”

The bat squeaked, fluttered her wings and flew sideways and a bit away. No, the manners are definitely from the north. Adoption?

“N-no, Lady Glimmer. They will tell me how to accept my Mark. And I…” the bat’s next words were less than a whisper, “I don't want to accept it,” she hung her head, “Please, Lady Glimmer? I don’t want it! Anything to pay with, I will pay!”

There was a glimpse of common sense in this, accounting for Cutie Mark Crusaders’s talent shared among the three. Before Starlight could ask the next question or think about the adequate price if there even was one, the bat asked her own question in turn, “Cozy? Cozy Glow, that pegasus? But she…” fluttering her wings, the young pony was about to rise to the air, but then she tumbled forward and landed head down into the cobblestones. She sharply cried, then sobbed.

Starlight Glimmer was not a medic, but on laypony’s sight that was painful if not traumatic. She winced.

No, not the northern one after all, Starlight thought, made a facehoof, but quickly followed to lift the bat up in her magic — she was sneezing and snotting with blood droplets — and, despite her weak protests, to carry her through the gate along the pinkish streets of Littlehorn, directing them both to the faculty building and to her warm office, situated for long, probably comfortable talks. A mango in the freezer, a medic called in from the next wing, and we'll figure out the rest. ‘Conspiracies and secrets are like weeds. They pretend to be useful, then they drag back your honest work’ Starlight remembered one of Applejack's sayings and grinned.

On the way, she answered the question, “Cozy Glow, as the pony, is where you think she is. ‘Cozy’ on the other hoof is not a name anymore, it is a tag, and you don’t live up to it at all, no matter what you might think about yourself. Well, will you please show me the Mark? I have already asked twice, and I will not ask for the third time.”

She listened to a desperate squeaky refusal, nodded politely, and moved the bat directly to the front of her. In the bright light of her magic, the purple bat fur resembled cherry wine at a romantic evening with candles — Starlight grinned again, remembering how such an evening with Sunburst went — and all that left to do was to unfold the gray rags, sloppily wound around the bat’s flanks.

The Mark was black and red. A dagger with a triangular blade, and an edge of blood along the blade, a rusty dark dried strip that Starlight didn't even want to pay attention to.

Starlight took a deep breath, “So Piercing Strike is not your nickname after all… Well, funny much, what can I say.”

The bat gave away an unintelligible sob and jerked her back leg.

Chapter ten, in which Piercing Strike tries to be more open, and Starlight helps her as much as she can

The dim sun reflected in the puddles after the rain; the water had not yet flowed down the well-calibrated slopes. Batponies, sticking close to Starlight, squinted but didn't show any displeasure. They were slowly walking along the paths of one of the many parks in Littlehorn—this one was different from the others in that it was quite securely closed off. Not only by guards, and not only by magic.

"Everything is fine," Starlight remarked. "Canterlot batponies are nocturnal by lifestyle, but they are not afraid of the sun, they don't turn to dust, and they don't sparkle in it. So don't worry. The rhythm will adjust over time."

Piercing Strike smiled, "I had a feeling. Otherwise, it would be too cruel of a joke. I love the sun, and what annoyed me was that..." She hesitated, not immediately finding the words to finish her thought, "In the past, I couldn't stand it. They told me that everything would be okay with this choice. That being a batpony wouldn't ruin anything for me."

"So, you could choose your body," Starlight observed, restraining her judgment. Then she felt that it wasn't enough and stopped to hug Piercing Strike; the batpony gratefully accepted the gesture and froze with a wildly beating heart. Starlight reminded herself that such a pulse was normal for all winged ponies, even the large ones. Piercing Strike was almost as tall as Starlight herself, and that still confused her.

"Yeah," she exhaled.

"And... why a batpony? I thought no pony would ever give up their own race. I've seen something similar only once, and... still, it wasn't a refusal. There was an unicorn who was sure from childhood that he was born into the wrong race. Not your case, right?"

Piercing Strike literally twisted out of the hug—Starlight couldn't even compare it to a gymnastic pirouette; the batpony's body went into a plane, as if splitting Piercing Strike in half, like a dark mirror, and after a second, Piercing was standing with her back to Starlight but exactly in the same place, reversed.

"How did you do that?!" Starlight asked in astonishment.

"They showed me how to do it. They were very friendly. And they weren't afraid that I could see through their eyes—in fact, quite the opposite."

Starlight perked up her ears, "First of all, you still haven't answered how you did it... secondly, you mean they weren't at all alarmed, they nodded and you went on with the stroll. And you never found out their names..."

"Because they opened the way for me," the batpony nodded. "They knew what and how I do it and helped me from their side. And about stepping through the shadow—it's not that hard. You need to look at your own shadow, lift it, and turn it upwards."

"And you don't find that a little strange?" Starlight asked softly. "You, with a rare talent... that wasn't even triggered by the Cutie Mark... I'll check the library later, but off the top of my head, I don't recall anything similar. And exactly four ponies came to your town who... didn't even tell you their names, am I understanding that right?... They did something that made you inhabit them."

"They pulled me from their side," the batpony nodded.

"With no surprise, no fear..."

"Like friends," Piercing Strike said with determination in her voice, "I didn't have many of those."

Starlight lowered her head, "I'm sorry. I don't think you did anything wrong, but... By the way, did the other ponies in this group have their own Cutie Marks?"

"But you're afraid too!" the batpony raised her voice. "They warned me to be cautious and not trust just anyone, or else they'd kill me, or something worse. And what difference does it make if they had Cutie Marks or not?"

"Changelings..." Starlight made a facehoof and distracted herself by splashing her face in the fountain. She shouldn't have shown how much it bothered her—even after all the efforts and after freeing the Queen, changelings still remained wary and untrusting... Just like you, Starlight remarked to herself.

The batpony tugged at her tail, not strongly, but persistently, with unacquaintedly sharp teeth.

"They weren't changelings. They let me try out all the bodies one by one, make my choice, and..." Piercing Strike squinted, "...They could take on the appearance of changelings, but they weren't changelings themselves. Didn't Princess Twilight tell you about this? I'm not a changeling, I'm a batpony, so stop even implying it!" She shifted upwards and forwards, marking a sensitive bite on Starlight's rump.

Starlight turned around slowly, forgetting to shake the wetness off her face, sighed, and replied, "I... didn't want to think about something like that—but since you insist, and if they're not changelings—then you live in a stolen body, Piercing Strike. Moreover, it was stolen from a little filly. Moreover, in a way we know nothing about—and it's good if we find her soul in some crystal or amulet."

The place where she was bitten felt like it was sinking with sharp icy needles deep under her skin. It would need treatment...

Piercing sat down on the cobblestones and immediately burst into tears.

"Don't call it that!"

Starlight clenched her lips but didn't apologize or soften her words.

She approached and sat opposite Piercing Strike.

"Whether I use those words or not, that's what happened, and you're involved in this matter—and the more you help us figure it out, the faster we can fix this evil. If we can still fix anything. I'm not blaming you; you're a good pony, and maybe you're just..."

"Just small and stupid, right?" the batpony sharply raised her voice, almost screeching. "You're no better than those other adults!"

Starlight kept silence. She embraced her and let her cry it out; in these twenty minutes, she received far more weak bites and kicks than she would have liked—and yet, just as much as was necessary.

Then Piercing began to speak.