Claws Scratching on A House of Glass

Chapters

The Scaly Scandal
In Good Company
The Gift of Fortunate Encounters.
The Gift of Clarity
The Gift of Revelation
The Gift That Stopped Giving

The Scaly Scandal

The centaur ran for his life.

He had the advantage of darkness, granted, his hooded cloak would make him look like a pony from afar, and the rain falling through the backwater pony town he’d holed himself up in would surely help mask his scent, but still he felt his pursuer gaining on him. He stopped and caught his breath against the corner of an alley. His breath was ragged, his stomach churned. He reached into his cloak for a jar and messily scooped up some of its rainbow-coloured contents.

“Curse this Zap Apple Jam, it’s so weak I can hardly taste any magic,” he muttered under his breath as he desperately gulped up more of the stuff.

“Oh, it’s not that weak...”

Chills ran down his spine when he heard the voice. She was everywhere.

With a sigh, he straightened up and let his hood down. His arms quaked, his hooves pawed nervously at the ground. Backed against a wall, he called out to her. “Show yourself, Chrysalis. I will not let you hunt me any further.”

“Oh, Tirek, Tirek, Tirek…” the changeling Queen said with a chuckle, still hiding in the shadows. “You don’t get to tell me what to do any longer.”

“What? But I never…”

“Tirek,” Chrysalis interrupted. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know? You never realised? After all these years? Don’t you remember those good old days up North? How is Scorpan these days, incidentally? I haven’t heard of him in ages.”

“N-no.” There was a smell in the air, then a burning in his lungs. Realisation dawned on him, and the true danger he was in made him forget his weak state, if only for a moment. His body tensed, his fists flared up with magic, ready to blast at the first sight of trouble.

I’ll only get one shot. I need to make it count.

“What are you hoping to do?” the Queen in the shadows asked. “You’re so weak you can’t even drain a Unicorn of their magic. You can’t fight me. You should have stayed in Tartarus, Tirek. You must be so hungry, so famished, can you even think of anything besides that delicious magic you could steal?”

He gulped. His stomach growled, his tail twitched, his whole body cried out for more magic to consume. That burning in his lungs increased. She was getting closer. “I know what you’re trying to do. It won’t work. You can’t steal my power to steal, Chrysalis. I’m no mere swamp demon preying on children. It takes skill, finesse, to do what I do. I can show you, if you like. We can come to an arrangement, you and I. We are both, after all, predators to these weak little ponies.”

Finally, she showed herself, strolling casually towards him from the front, without any disguise. “Tempting offer, but no.”

Tirek braced himself for the attack. “Don’t do anything foolish now, Chrysalis. You need me. You need me ali-”

The sudden stabbing pain in the back of his neck stopped him. Pressure built up at the front of his neck, the sides, then his head was yanked against the wall and his breath was cut off by a black holed forelimb. She’d used one of those holes in her legs as a noose, sneaking up from behind.

The Queen in front of him disappeared, leaving a drone staring mindlessly ahead in its place.

A decoy. Of course.

Tirek felt his heart pounding. The real Chrysalis held his throat tightly, and as much as he tried to claw at her or blast her away, nothing made her so much as flinch.

In a final desperate move, he tried to drain her, but the attempt was cut off as soon as he tried it.

“Tactical error, Tirek. You can’t drain someone if you cannot breathe. But that hunger for magic, that power? It’s so much easier to extract when it’s pure.”

He struggled feebly against her grip, as blackness crept up in his vision. Tirek tried to beg, to plea, to do anything, but Chrysalis held him tight and grinned, before opening her mouth and doing what he so desperately wanted: she took a deep breath in.

The hunger he’d felt for so long intensified a thousandfold, and he felt weakness overcome him as his magic was drained. Then, much to his surprise, he felt no hunger at all, or weakness. In fact, he felt quite at peace.

No more hunger, no more of those idle aches in his joints that came from millennia in prison. He didn’t even feel the choking grip on his throat anymore.

With a start, he realised he was looking at himself.

“You know, Tirek, it’s funny,” Chrysalis whispered in his body’s now cooling ear. “Only two weeks ago, you might have had a point about me needing you alive. But I’ve been expanding my roster, if you will.”

“T-the w-wurr...” he gurgled. He faded in and out of consciousness, his body trying to hold on to his spirit while it could.

Chrysalis snickered. “That’s right, I killed a water devil, isn’t that nice? I missed the one near Beargundy, though, someone beat me to the punch there.” She squeezed down, annoyed. “That can’t have been you, though. Was that you?”

Hoping he might buy some time, Tirek shook his head. Water devils were far beyond anything he could hope to battle in his weakened state, and besides that, why would he want to? Those fiends didn’t strictly feed off of magic, but rather the emotional energy of dying prey. They terrified and harrassed their victims, or weighed them down with breath-burning magic, until the water devil could steal their memories as their lives flashed before their eyes.

Tirek’s heart sank as his mind wandered, memories of old battles with the things suddenly fresh in his mind. To fight a water devil was to fight terror incarnate. If Chrysalis really had stolen the powers of one, he truly was done for. He closed his eyes in defeat, and he found himself standing next to Chrysalis again, looking at his own choking form.

“No matter. Whoever’s responsible for delaying me so much will pay eventually. Had to go all the way to Alherda to find another one.”

She sucked in another great gulp of air, and with it came the last remains of life within the centaur. He hardly noticed, already passed out from her chokehold.

Tirek’s spirit felt a hand on his shoulder. A warm, welcoming hand.

“Scorpan?” Tirek didn’t turn around, but his spectral eyes felt warm somehow, and a wetness stained his cheeks. Trying to wipe it away, he found nothing. “Scorpan, brother. I didn’t think you’d show.”

The hand squeezed in comfort. Still, Tirek didn’t turn to face its source, for he knew to do so would be his final act in this world. He still had something to say.

Chrysalis released the body and let it collapse under its own weight. “Thank you for your contribution, Tirek. I appreciate it. And I’ll make very good use of it.”

Tirek, freed from his hunger, his pain, and all other mortal concerns, called out to her with his last strength. “It won’t be enough, Chrysalis. It’ll never be enough. You don’t know what you have. You don’t even know what it is you truly want.”

Chrysalis stared straight into the spirit’s eyes.

“Oh, I know exactly what I want. And I know who's going to give it to me.” She licked her lips and snarled, shooing away the decoy drone. “I’ve been preparing my meal for a long time.”

Tirek shook his head, turned to join his brother, and passed on.

Bon Bon’s day had started like any other since she’d gotten custody of her little changeling son. Lyra was always second to be up, leaving plenty of time to set the table for breakfast and to read the newspaper. That day, though, Bon Bon had gotten stuck reading. Her ears flicked when she heard Lyra coming down the stairs, but she didn’t look up.

“Bonsie?” Lyra asked. “Is something wrong?”

Bon Bon trembled in a mix of rage and fear. “It’s the news.” She expected the Unicorn to make some joke about sports teams or whatnot, but instead Lyra slowly, quietly sat down next to her and wrapped an arm around her.

“What happened?”

Bon Bon took a moment to catch her breath. “It’s about Bastion. Here, look at this. They’re saying Ponyville isn’t safe, that we beat up our own child, that we...”

Lyra scanned the article quickly. “Witness accounts, official documents, but what are they… they what?” Lyra had a hoof up to her mouth while Bon Bon kept on reading.

“According to eyewitness accounts, Ponyville treats the changeling like an unwelcome exile, a mere toy for the young to play with,” Bon Bon said. “That’s ridiculous! Who in their right mind would say that? Bastion’s not a toy. Everyone likes him. Diamond Tiara likes him.”

“The adults of the town see no problem with young Bastion being subjected to verbal and physical abuse on a daily basis. As for Bastion himself, the one saving grace is that his...” Lyra gasped. “His mental faculties have atrophied to the point of nonexistence?”

“Someone wrote this. Someone told the newspapers this,” Bon Bon said with a growl. “The nerve of some ponies.”

The doorbell rang.

“We need to set this straight,” Lyra replied, going to the door, freezing halfway. “They can’t take him from us, can they?”

That thought had occurred to Bon Bon already, and she knew exactly how she’d answer. “They can try. I’ve still got my glazing gun for special orders, you can clear a trench with one of those. I’m not a good shot with it, though.” She thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Then again, with that thing, you can afford to miss by a little.”

“Okay, that’s a little excessive. We don’t have to burn anyone. Besides, if anyone’s gonna do it, it should be me: I don’t leave corpses. Or ashes.” Lyra opened the door.

Bon Bon looked past her and right on cue, there were Twilight Sparkle and Lydia Ladame, more commonly known in Canterlot as Leading Lady, or Mayor Mare, as she was known in Ponyville. Both of them had the same look on their face, the same emotions: concern, with a tinge of remorse.

“Hi, Lyra,” Twilight said. “I’m sure you’re read the news by now.”

Lyra nodded anxiously. “This is nothing, right? Nothing to worry about?”

Twilight sighed. “Actually, kind of. I wouldn’t worry, but we should still prepare. Can we come in?”

Lyra gestured to them both, welcoming them in even though Bon Bon had her face set to stunning glare.

“Prepare for what?” Bon Bon asked. “Did you have anything to do with this?”

“No,” Twilight replied. “We’ve been around town already, nopony we talked to knows where they got those stories. But according to the reporters, this is based on information out of the Griffon Kingdom. Except the griffons claim they got their information from Ponyville ponies.”

“It might have been those ponies at the market,” Lyra said. “You know how they get sometimes.”

Bon Bon ignored the remark. Guilt could be settled later. “Do we need to worry?”

“Yes and no. Obviously this is all fake to us, but some of the other nations aren’t so friendly about changelings living next to Equestria, or in it. The naga have taken these reports to question whether or not Bastion belongs here. They want an inquiry,” Mayor Mare said.

“What’s a naga?” Bon Bon asked.

“Snakes.”

All four mares turned to the source of the voice. Apparently the boy had heard.

He’d changed his appearance a little in the few months he’d lived in Ponyville. For one thing, he had put on some weight, making him look healthier. He still didn’t quite have the rounded belly of a pony, but that was one part of his insect-like anatomy that wasn’t going to change at all anytime soon. His green carapace still shone, he still had the spur-like growths near his hooftips, and he’d gotten a proper manecut, leaving him looking like a little gladiator with the way his webby mohawk stood out.

He looked better, Bon Bon reminded herself. Ponyville was obviously a good place for him. She swallowed her anger and smiled. “Bastion, sweetie, this isn’t as bad as it sounds. There’s no need to worry, right? How much did you hear?”

“I heard you say ‘naga.’ That’s bad. They’re snakes with arms,” Bastion replied, wincing. “We sent a lot of, umm, incursions their way, and we stole a lot of their secrets. They hate us.”

“That’s the bad news, yes,” Mayor Mare said. “The good news is: the naga don’t have a claim to Bastion’s custody rights. He doesn’t have any living relatives in their nation, and the pandas and zebras have been very vocal about naga trying to overstep their bounds, so the snakes won’t take action directly.”

“Then they can’t do anything, right? All we have to do is deny it, give them any evidence they need, let this whole thing blow over and we’re all clear,” Lyra said.

“It’s not that simple,” Mayor Mare explained. “The naga are trying to appeal to an older law, an international law involving… well, cult activity, let’s say, which would put Bastion out of pony jurisdiction.”

“Wait,” Bon Bon said. “Why would that kind of law even exist?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Twilight said. “The bottom line is: the law puts the responsibility on a living blood relative, and Bastion does have one of those.”

Bon Bon’s skin crawled. “Chrysalis? They’d rather have him go back to Chrysalis?”

“Chrysalis isn’t a blood relative,” Twilight said. “Changeling family structure is… complicated compared to ours, but the queen isn’t the mother by law. No, the problem’s a little closer to home.”

“Griffons.” Bastion groaned. “My mom’s still alive, but she’s a griffon now. They’re going to get the griffons to take me away?”

“Looks like that’s the plan,” Twilight replied. “Even though any memories she may have are planted, and no one even knows where she is or who she is at this point, as long as she’s not declared legally dead, the griffons have a claim to Bastion’s custody. The naga have pushed for them to exercise this claim, probably because they’re afraid of what he knows, or what he might do.”

“But they can’t do that. He’s innocent.” Bon Bon suppressed a hiss.

“No, I’m not,” he said. “I did get some training. Not a lot of combat, but strategy training. I was, umm, ripe, when we left. Chrysalis already asked me to think of things before my uncle died. I came up with an idea to bypass the naga’s defences right before my uncle...”

“Sweetie, I know you’re clever, but you’re only a child. They can’t pin that on you.”

“They’re certainly trying to. But King Alberic is still on your side in this, and so are most griffons,” Twilight said. “They can’t take you away just like that. You have rights.” She turned to Bon Bon and Lyra. “That goes for you, too. You’re his parents now, your rights can and will be enforced, if need be.”

“I’d rather not let it get that far, though. That’s why we’re here.” Mayor Mare smiled. “The griffons will be sending their inspectors in a few days. That gives us time to prepare our stories.”

“Bastion?!” A cry came from outside. “I just heard the news.”

“Right on time,” Twilight said. “Apple Bloom, would you mind taking Bastion outside? We need to discuss some grown-up things, without him there. The inspectors wouldn’t want us putting pressure on him.”

“Got it.” He trotted off, his wings buzzing nervously against his carapace. “I guess I’ll go get breakfast at Daisy’s?”

“Yeah, it’s probably best. We still need to go to the grocery store, anyway. You go and grab breakfast with Apple Bloom, we’ll discuss this over leftovers. Hope you like waffles, girls,” Bon Bon joked.

Twilight chuckled. “That’s hardly necessary, but thank you, waffles sounds great.”

“Okay. I’ll be back later!”

Bon Bon went over to give him a good squeeze of a hug, then patted his rump. “Go. Go eat.”

“Love you.” With that, he was out the door.

“He doesn’t seem too worried,” Lyra remarked.

Bon Bon hummed to herself as she went back to the table. “How much are you willing to bet he’s thinking of escape plans already?”

“Oh, I’ll waste my bits on a slot machine and get it over with, thanks. Now, what do you need Bonsie and me to do? Bonsie?”

Bon Bon furrowed her brow, thinking. “Hold on. Twilight, you just said we need time to prepare stories. What do you mean ‘we,’ exactly?”

Twilight turned her ears towards the door. Her horn glowed, and the other mares could have sworn they heard a sonic ping of sorts. When she was satisfied, Twilight elaborated. “That’s why I wanted Bastion out for now. It’s not just him the griffons will be focused on, according to King Alberic’s orders: it’s his environment. The inspectors will be asking Bastion, and everypony around him, and the relevant authorities. So they’ll be talking to me and my friends as the Elements of Harmony, and to his teachers, any adults he regularly speaks to, and Missus Mayor here.”

“But...”

“We all want him to stay,” Mayor Mare said. “But at the same time, we can’t lie about anything that’s happened. So we need to settle on how to tell the truth as carefully as we can.”

“Kinda like a job interview, then,” Lyra remarked.

“Exactly.”

“I’ll go get started on those waffles,” Bon Bon said.

Bastion’s wings buzzed with nerves every three steps he took. Apple Bloom was unnerved by it, both out of sympathy and because of how regular it was, at first.

Then it stopped, and he only buzzed after five steps. Then two, then only one. Rather than unnerved, she became worried: Bastion’s conditioning, while it hadn’t made him much of a warrior, had left him prone to set habits and predictable patterns, she’d gotten used to most by now. He was looking and acting more erratic, now, though, more random. He’d been doing that a lot lately. “Are you okay?” Apple Bloom asked. If he was sad, that was something she could deal with. If he were beginning to act more randomly, she wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.

“Of course I’m okay. They’re just sending some griffons over to check if I’m really being treated nicely in Ponyville. That’s all.”

Bastion had never been a proper infiltrator, and it showed. “They’re only sending griffons because of your mom. And somepony still started this.”

He pouted, and she knew she’d hit home. He could never fool her. “It’s fine.”

“And they’re probably gonna check if you’re alright in the head, too.”

He stopped. “I know. And I’m not.”

She sighed and stopped right beside him. “Yeah, I noticed.” She gave him five seconds to talk, but when he stayed quiet, she added, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I feel weird, I don’t know why, and nothing I’ve tried to do helps.”

“You’re still doin’ better than when you first got here. Everypony likes you. Except market ponies, maybe, but they don’t like anyone.”

“That’s not the point. That’s not the problem. I don’t know what the problem is.”

“I know, but that’s the problem they’re gonna be coming for. And you gotta remember, you’re doing a good job fitting in here. That’s all anyone can expect from you.”

He sat down and clutched his head with his hoofpaws. “Apple Bloom, I don’t even know what’s wrong with me. Maybe it’s the same thing that was wrong with my mom, and I’m gonna start forgetting who I am, too.”

“But you ain’t got anything planted in your head, do you?”

“I’m not sure I’d notice if I did.”

Not one to take that kind of downer attitude for an answer, Apple Bloom huffed and nodded. “Okay, then do what you’re good at. Break it down, and make a plan. What do we need to do to make sure you can stay?”

“Don’t let the griffons find out I’m not well, if they don’t know already.”

“For now,” Apple Bloom corrected. “You ain’t exactly had a lot of time to learn how to be yourself, or even to figure out what your ‘self’ is supposed to be. And you don’t even get cutie marks to help with that, so go a little easy on that.”

“Okay, fine.” He grumbled. “Then I have to show I’m happy here. And other ponies need to show they’re happy I’m here.”

She smiled a little when she heard him say ‘other ponies,’ as if he considered himself one now. “I’m sure that won’t be too hard, either. Anything else that needs doing?”

He closed his eyes and thought. “No. I think the only thing I really can do is what I’ve been doing: living in Ponyville. I just… I wish I knew what was wrong. It’s like I’m not me anymore.”

“That weird dream again?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Same exact one,” he replied, before shuddering. “I can’t even take the sound of bottles jingling together anymore. I’m pretty sure that’s not me.”

“For what it’s worth, I think your beekeeping is pretty much all you. If you focus on that, you might speed things up a little.”

“Thanks.” His stomach growled. “Maybe I could nudge things a little, just to be safe. It couldn’t hurt to help things along just a tiny bit, right?”

“Of course not,” Apple Bloom with a smile. “Just, you know, don’t overdo it.”

The boy’s stomach growled, and he hissed right after. “Okay, food first, strategising later.”

About a week later, the group of foreign inspectors arrived. The griffons landed outside of Ponyville, so as not to spook the locals.

“Okay, you know what we’re here for,” the female in the front said. “Simple question and answer, be on the lookout for anything unusual, and if you suspect anything suspicious, do not let it slide. We want to show the naga we are thorough. Any questions?”

The male to her left raised a claw.

“Yes, Geirolf?”

“I sa-I say now when you say ‘anything suspicious,’ do you mean shenanigans or chicanery or any o’ such like illicit activity?”

Gaenorga rolled her eyes. Always the same thing with Geirolf and his insufferable Southern Plains ways. How the buffalo had tolerated his presence for as long as they had was beyond her. “We are not looking for illicit activity, Geirolf. These are ponies: they don’t break the law very often, because there are hardly any laws to break. We’re on the lookout for deception, in particular.”

“Ah, bamboozlements and hornswoggling. So no need to turn our eagle eye on the, shall we say, underlyin’ underbelly tensions, then.”

His euphemisms were almost as bad as his accent. “Not this time, no.” Gaenorga didn’t blame him for his ignorance. This was a rather unusual case, after all. Still, at least this time they wouldn’t require any muscle for the proceedings.

Said muscle raised his claw, because when Geirolf had a question, Garwin had to remind Gaenorga of his existence, always. Not that she didn’t see a good reason why he should, as he was usually the quiet type, along for the ride until the situation demanded his intervention. Around that time, he would get very loud and, soon after, everyone in his way would grow very, very still.

“Yes, Garwin?”

“How much do ponies know about purpose? Any subterfuge to exploit?”

“No,” Gaenorga replied, rubbing her forehead. “No, they know why we are here, and they know exactly why. The only thing they don't know is who we are, so no need to bring up the topic around them. I managed to pick up a letter from the mayor just this morning. And unless I get a message from our dear King before the bells toll...”

Right on cue, the bell tower of Ponyville sounded to alert everyone another hour of the morning had passed.

No parchments materialised in magical fire, the flower gem in her bracelet didn’t vibrate, nothing on Gaenorga’s body indicated her mission had been aborted, as much as she might wish it was.

“Okay, no last-minute changes, then. You have your orders, and your locations. Take as much time as you need, we’ll meet back at the changeling’s home.”

The griffons nodded at their leader.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Gaenorga said before they could disperse. “Remember these are ponies. They are, as a rule, not educated on the outside world, and do not see creatures like us often. They’re herd animals, and chances are the whole town knows our purpose. Do not get distracted by the townsponies, do not antagonise anyone, but do not hesitate to put your claw down if they should confront you. We are here in the name of the law. Got that?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” came the reply.

“Hmm?” She turned to look at the bushes, her neck feathers raised up. Seeing no spies or eavesdroppers, she continued. “Good. Get to it, then. I’ll be busy with the librarian first.”

In Good Company

Geirolf waved a claw to the cottage, to the menagerie in front of it, and to the mare in charge of both. Ever the sociable one, he let out his traditional Southern Plains griffon rooster call.

“Howdiedoodledoo!”

Fluttershy jumped at the sound. She hadn’t seen him approach, and her mind briefly went to memories of when she’d needed to help to rehabilitate all the birds of the Canterlot Ornithology Lab, after an unfortunate accident involving phoenix mating season, a giant pet roc practising package drops, and a surprisingly generous and completely unrelated donation from Princess Celestia.

Geirolf was of average size for a griffon, both in the bird and feline department. However, his golden cat coat was longer than most, and his tailbush more fluffed and voluminous, giving his swaying length an aspect of a peacock. Other than that, he looked perfectly normal: eagle head, lion body, nothing out of the ordinary with either, aside from the fact that one did not belong on the other.

“Umm, hi,” Fluttershy said. “You must be here for the inspection.”

“That I am, Ma’am, that I am. I’m sorry if I startled your animals there, wasn’t thinkin’ they’d be skittish-like around my kind!”

“Well, some of my animals do get a little nervous around lions.”

“Is it okay if I come over there, or are there any scaredy cats I need to be mindful of?!”

Fluttershy gulped. Every word out of this griffon’s beak sounded like a foghorn going off, he was so loud. And he was here to take one of the local children away. He sounded vaguely like Applejack, though, perhaps a little farther from the South. What to think of such a creature?

An odd thing happened as she tried to make heads or tails of the situation: Mister Hatrack and Missus Carrotstick came running towards him.

He hummed and lowered his voice to a softer tone. “Well, howdie.” He gave their heads a gentle scratch, making them thump the ground with joy. “Ain’t you the cutest little critters. Careful where you point that rack, though, no, I ain’t got any greens for ya, sorry.” He held up his claws when Mister Hatrack tried to extort some food with a nibble to a claw.

Fluttershy exchanged a glance with Angel Bunny. Her jackalopes were never that friendly with her. They liked the griffon, though, possibly because of some kinship between composite creatures, and none of her other animals reacted to him beyond the initial scare. Clearly, she didn’t need to worry too much. “It’s fine, I was just about to finish feeding everyone, Mister...”

“Geirolf’s the name,” he replied. “And you are Fluttershy, are ya not? Element o’ Kindness?”

“That’s me. You can come up, they won’t bite you.”

Mister Grizzles, her bear, growled.

“I said no.”

Angel Bunny chittered when Geirolf was at the door.

“What wa-I say what was that now, little bunny?”

She smiled. “Oh, he’s just cranky because he had to eat cucumber again.”

“Really, now? Because it sounded like he wanted to kick me in the neck.”

The mare froze. “You speak bunny?”

“I speak a little bit of Rabbit, yes. White Rabbit, that is.”

“Oh. Oh, dear. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

The griffon chuckled. “Little thing like him, I’m sure he didn’t. But in my line o’work, it pays to stay on your tips. Toes, that is. It’s the little things I’m here for, one little thing in particular. So, if’n it don’t inconvenience ya too much of a much?”

“No, no, it’s fine.” She gestured to the chair at her table. “Please, have a seat.”

“Thank ya kindly.” Geirolf sat down and took out a notepad and a pen.

Something nagged at Fluttershy right then and there, a tug at the edges of her mind that something was out of place. She looked back at her table and wondered. Geirolf had his back to her book cabinet, none of her birdboxes were out of place. She pushed the thought aside. “Would you like some tea?”

He waved away the request. “Oh, you don’t have to go out of your way to try accomodatin’ a loudmouth like me.”

“I’m making camomile anyway, it’s no bother.”

“Camomile sounds delightful, then.” Geirolf scribbled something on his paper.

Fluttershy rummaged through her cupboard, and realised he was probably writing down how nervous she was. She idly wondered if he’d be keeping track of the concentration of her calming tea to boot.

“Be strong, Fluttershy,” she whispered to herself.

“Yes, please do,” Geirolf replied. “And don’t be too scared, neither. It’s a mite difficult to make sense of folks when their teeth keep chattering.” He tapped his beak with a chuckle. “Though I guess that’s my griffon privilege talkin’, bein’ somewhat exempt from the trials and tribulations of an odontological nature.”

She shivered, again. “You have, umm, remarkably good hearing, Mister Geirolf.”

“Comes with the territory.” He gestured to the side of his head. “I grew up on the Southern Plains, ya see, lotsa caves and crevices to play hide and seek in. Lotsa places for a youngin to get lost, too. Thank ya kindly.” He took the cup of tea and gave it a sip. “I can hear crickets from miles away, if I have to.”

She sat down and nodded. “And do you? Need to, I mean.”

He nodded pensively. “My particular set of skills has been put to trial once or twice, yes. Under circumstances I’d rather not see replicated elsewhere, on occasion. So, now that we’re both comfy-like and introduced, what can ya tell me about the changeling in your town?”

She looked past Geirolf and noticed an odd thing behind him: a chicken. Not one of her regular chickens, but a very large porcelain chicken, a decoration on her bookcase. It was placed just right so it couldn’t be seen from the front door. Geirolf had certainly paid it no heed.

She couldn’t remember buying one of those things, though, nor could she remember receiving one as a gift. A soft cough behind her drew her attention for a moment, and looking back she noticed there was a second porcelain chicken in her kitchen, likewise hidden well enough to not be seen from the entrance.

Where did those come from? Fluttershy’s wings bunched up against her sides. “Umm, what do you want to know?”

“Let’s start with the generalities.” Geirolf looked down at some other notes. “What’s your impression of little Bastion? Is he a nice boy, is he polite? Is he physically active, that you know of, or does he prefer to stay inactive and indoors? Do you know if he plays well with others or if he’s solitary?”

Fluttershy bit her lip and pondered. “Oh. I… I guess...”

The chicken behind Geirolf started glowing green, ever so gently, ever so slowly. It turned into a transparent material, glass-like in its texture, and then it revealed a warped image of a little changeling boy with a mohawk and a lot more skill in magic than Fluttershy had ever given him credit for. He smiled brightly and raised a hoof in an affirmative gesture, then took out a little blackboard to scribble on.

The blackboard read “Don’t worry, I can fix this.”

Oh, no. He’s listening in. He thinks he can help. If the griffon finds out he planted spying chickens in my home-

“Let me rephrase the question,” Geirolf interrupted. “Simplify it, that is. In your opinion, your personal opinion and experience, whatever that may be worth – and rest assured, we can talk about how much it’s worth later – what is the changeling boy like, compared to pony children you know?”

“Oh.” She leaned back. “I guess that would be easier to answer. Bastion is… careful.” That much she felt comfortable blurting out, and Bastion nodded from behind the griffon. “At least he was, at first, when he was new in town. I didn’t talk much with him then. But compared to other pony children, I’d say he was more withdrawn at first, and now he’s as comfortable and confident as most foals would be, at least compared to most blank flanks.”

Geirolf jotted down more notes quickly. “Blank flanks being ponies without that stamp thingie on your thighs.”

“Exactly. Some ponies use that term as an insult, but it’s really not, it’s just an easy way to describe them.”

“Alright. What else?” He looked up from his notes with a smile. “You’re an animal expert, has he ever come to you for anything in particular?”

She winced. “I did kind of, sort of, needed to explain to him what a pet is, exactly. A lot of things that are normal to us, he never heard of.”

“And you don’t think that’s odd, for a high-ranking changeling?”

The boy flinched, and he quickly started making throat-cutting motions to get her to change the subject.

“Oh, I didn’t know he was high-ranking until afterwards. And no, the way I understand it, he was kept isolated at his Hive for some reason. It wasn’t a problem, though: he got the idea pretty quickly. He already had his beehive by then, he takes good care of it. He has very happy bees,” she said with a nod and a smile.

The changeling in the chicken wiped his brow and let out a muted sigh of relief.

Still, Geirolf was none the wiser. “Fine sense of animal care is always a good thing to see in a child. What about with other children? Do you see him around much?”

“Yes, most of the foals in Ponyville know me for, umm, you know, obvious reasons. But nopony really bothers me that often, most of the time. They know I take care of animals, so they only come to me when they need to. But, umm, yes, I do see him in town quite often, hanging out with the Cutie Mark Crusaders. That’s Rarity’s sister, Applejack’s sister, and some of their friends.”

“An all girl group,” Geirolf noted.

“Oh, no, no!” Fluttershy quickly protested before the chicken could. “It’s not all girls, not since Bastion came around, nonono. The girls expanded their little club, they let Rumble in as well. That’s Thunderlane’s little brother, he’s a Weather Patrol pony, he works with Rainbow Dash, the Element of Loyalty.”

Geirolf quirked an eyebrow. “But even with a single boy, or several, a male changeling hanging out with a bunch of small fillies, that doesn’t raise any red flags for you?”

A light frightful squeal escaped her lips. “Well, when you put it like that...”

“Ma’am, I know this is probably beyond the purview of your otherwise undoubtedly astute observational skills, but I have to ask, regardless: do you think Bastion consorts with these girls for the purpose of feeding off their affections?”

Fluttershy opened her mouth, then furrowed her brow. “Umm… actually, now that you mention it...”

Bastion’s ears fell back. Fluttershy only noticed from the corners of her eyes, not daring to let the griffon know what was going on.

“Yes or no?” Geirolf insisted.

I have to be honest. Even if Bastion might hear some things he shouldn’t. If I don’t, he might get taken away.

“I can’t say for sure, because I don’t know what it would look like. But if he did, he really picked the wrong girls to do it with.”

The Royal Guards flanked the Unicorn as they walked through the halls of the palace. Looking left and right, she tried to figure out some escape, some plan to get herself out of whatever mess she was in. They’d plucked her right off the streets of her village, in broad daylight. No reason why, no warning other than “It’s urgent,” just a very brief and sudden trip from the desert to the capital.

A portal trip, no less, one powered by a gem they carried.

They were using portal magic to get her, and that could only mean one thing: she was in trouble. Deep trouble.

Why did they pick me up? Do they know about my plans? Did Princess Luna read my dreams? I never noticed her, I know I set up my blocking spells properly.

On and on they marched with her caught in between.

I could still teleport. But they probably have counter-measures in place for that. And they know where I live.

Her heart sank. Her stomach churned with nerves.

Then Princess Celestia herself came to greet them, with a scroll held in her magic. “Is this the one?”

The Unicorn tried not to cringe. Oh, no, she knows. I’m done for.

“This is the only pony we found at the location,” the guard on the left answered. “No traces of any enemies we could find. No traces of anyone, for that matter, except her.”

Celestia took a long, hard look at the Unicorn mare, and nodded. “No witnesses, then. So much the better. Guards, you are excused.”

As one, the two stallions nodded and turned, leaving the two.

“I’m sorry for the sudden interruption of your affairs, but we can’t be too careful in this situation.” Celestia turned her attention to the scroll. “Now, before we begin, I need to check a few things. You are a former magic student of the healing branch, yes? Took a few additional courses in lethemancy?”

The Unicorn winced. Yup. She knows. “That’s me. Two years of study under Master Mirror.”

“And how is the old fellow? Still dragging his beard around?” Celestia whispered, a devious smile on her face.

Wait. No, she doesn’t know. Oh, thank goodness, she’s got me mixed up with someone else. “No, I studied under Onyx Mirror, Your Majesty. She’s a mare, and still relatively young. Her husband has a beard, though, a pretty hideous goatee, if you ask me.”

“Oh, dear.” Celestia read the scroll again and shook her head. “Not old master Smoky? That’s quite the discrepancy in your file, then. But you did study both healing magic and lethemancy? That’s still an odd combination, isn’t it? Any particular reason why?”

She gulped. “I, umm, I thought it would be interesting to learn about emotional scars, and maybe help heal those, especially in Unicorns. There’s a lot of talk about rational types and emotional types, but if you’ll pardon me saying so, no one really pays much attention to the second one. And magic, you know, it doesn’t react very well to trauma, but no one really knows how or why or what to do about it. I thought, maybe, possibly, I could grease that squeaky wheel a little more. Learning the magic of forgetting seemed to make sense at the time.”

“You sound like my sister.” Celestia kept her eyes on that scroll. “It’s not a field I’m well-versed in, and not a lot of mortals I know are, but it’s a reasonable explanation, I suppose. So that was your choice out of grade school, yet once you finished that you took, what, four apprenticeships in a row? You’re not very well-documented for someone so well-educated. Why did you fall off the grid for so long?”

Oh, boy. Here we go.

The mare took a deep breath and resigned herself to her fate. “Oh, I was, umm, finding my way around, I guess? I graduated, with fairly good grades, then I went to Southern Equestria for one year and a half to learn papyromancy. After that it was the plains to learn restoration magic, and basic construction. Very basic, I’m not that good at it. I might have gotten a little better during my stay in Alherda Foal Hospital, bringing toys to life for the little ones while I, umm, tried to help in the other ways I could.”

“Mhmm...” Celestia nodded. “And that is all you know?”

She knows. She’s toying with me, or testing me.

“No. I also read up on the basics of chaos magic, the limits of it as we know them, and in particular how to grab emotions and make them materialise, use them as fuel. I’ve always been an emotional caster, but I took my time studying the theory behind it, too, so I guess I’m a little better at it than most. I wouldn’t know, I never measured myself against anyone. And I’m assuming the reason you called for me is because of the branch of chaos magic I specialised in: logomancy, or symbol magic. I can go into a deep enough magical state to manipulate symbols, basically. Removing the magic on holy sites to preserve the purity of the place while they’re rebuilt, purifying ancient sites from contaminated magic like, say, Windigo frost-”

Celestia raised an eyebrow, looking at her like a parent would at a child caught doing something naughty. “And moving and removing cutie marks?”

Busted. “Yes. They taught me in Alherda, they kind of had to. I can toy around with magic symbols, too, blend spells off a scroll together like writing a sentence. It’s not quite the same as formulating brand new magic, but the ones with a verbal base, I can stitch together quite easily. It helps the emotional casting, the metamagic, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

Celestia smiled and rolled up the scroll in her magic. “Seems I did have the correct file, then. Walk with me.”

With nowhere to run but down the corridor, facing either the Royal Guard or Celestia, the mare followed. “With all due respect, Princess Celestia, you never even asked for my name.”

“No, I did not, and I’m glad to see you’re clever enough not to have announced it yourself, either. We are in a bit of a bind, you see, and dealing with an enemy who can infiltrate even our inner ranks.”

“Changelings?” the mare whispered.

“One changeling in particular: the Queen.” Princess Celestia opened the door at the end of the hallway and motioned her to enter. “We have need of a Unicorn with your particular set of skills, and your very specific overlap in knowledge. I do apologise for the intrusion, really I do, but I don’t have a lot of chaos mages I can trust, and the few I do trust are… insufficient in tackling this particular problem. You, however, are not.”

The pink Unicorn entered the chamber, and was greeted by a blue-maned, blue-eyed changeling. “Hi,” the changeling greeted. “I’m Sapphire Gaze, Chrysalis’s former Archmage. You must be the blending specialist I’ve heard about.”

“This is my counsel room. We can speak freely in here,” Celestia said, closing the door. “The walls are lined with whisperwood, and there are several alarm systems in place, so no chance of eavesdroppers.”

A weight fell off the mare’s shoulders. I’m not in trouble? She just needs somepony who knows the magic I do. I’m not being busted; I’m being drafted. Oh, thank Cele-well, thank somepony a little farther away, at least. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sapphire. My name is-”

“Starlight?”

The Unicorn stopped dead in her tracks. She didn’t recognise the voice, but her heart skipped a beat when she recognised its owner. Brownish orange mane, that cute white spot on his nose, the sock patterns on his limbs, it had to be him.

Years of anxiety came welling up again. A broken heart, teary eyes, right down to the salty disgusting snot running over her lips every time she cried, it all rushed back in the blink of an eye. She’d been a little girl then. Now, all of a sudden, it was only yesterday, the wounds of decades opened again, and the cause of it all was right in front of her.

“That is you, isn’t it? Starlight Glimmer?” He adjusted his glasses and squinted. “Don’t you remember me? It’s Sunburst.”

“You two know each other?” Celestia checked her scroll again. “Oh, yes, you’re both from Sire’s Hollow, and the same age. I suppose you would.”

Starlight’s world fell out from under her hooves. She could have sworn she’d fainted, but thankfully she was still standing. The corners of her mouth went up in a dopey smile as emotions washed over her like a tidal wave, her horn abuzz with energy. She felt her eyes water up, her mouth hung open.

“Seems you two have a history together,” Sapphire joked.

That snapped Starlight out of her daze. “Sunburst.” She blinked quickly, trying to regain her composure in front of the emotion-eating bug within feeding range. She realised with a start that she didn’t even know what Sapphire’s range was, and hoped two paces would suffice. “Um, hello.”

“Beg yer pardon?”

Fluttershy shrugged. “Oh, I mean, the girls like him, of course. They appreciate him being around. Honestly, he’s quite the peacemaker. Why, after a few weeks with him around, the girls made peace with Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon, they’re-”

“Rich fillies,” Geirolf interrupted. “Of a moral fibre that is, shall we say, of a less than optimal consistency.”

That got the changeling mad, and Fluttershy was pretty sure the jig would have been up if he hadn’t muted his communication magic. Instead, all that happened was frantic flapping of his limbs and a decidedly angry pout, before calming down into a mere glare.

“Oh, right. You know about them.”

“They’ve made the papers with their chicanery, Miss. I’m told they’re bullies.”

“No. They were, before. But children can be mean sometimes, it doesn’t mean they don’t grow out of it.”

“Sounds like an odd remark, comin’ from a pony like you.” He took another look at his notes. “Were you not, yourself, a bully victim when you were little?”

She gulped. “Exactly how much do you know, Mister Geirolf, sir?”

“Enough to warrant investigating, but not enough to make judgement. So, I reiterate my question, repeat it, that is: were you or were you not a bully victim when you were that age?”

Fluttershy’s ears fell back. “That’s personal, sir. A private matter.”

He gestured to the rest of her cottage. “There’s no one here but us and your animals. I do need to put your views into perspective somehow, you understand.”

Bastion looked away. He put his hooves to his ears and nodded.

He’s not listening. Even with so much at stake, he doesn’t want to eavesdrop on that.

“Yes. I understand, and I was bullied, that is correct.”

“And are those two girls, yes or no, of the same sort that bullied you?”

“Not anymore. I don’t think so. Besides, it was mostly boys who picked on me. I avoided girls, usually, and they avoided me. Boys didn’t.”

He nodded. “As male bullies would, asserting dominance. Still, in your opinion?”

“I don’t think Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon are bullies at heart, not really. They seem nice enough. But I don’t see them that often, or speak to them, so I wouldn’t know for sure.”

“Yet you say Bastion made peace between the girls? Why?”

She smiled and wiped her hair back, making a point to scratch her ears. Confused, Bastion let his hooves drop.

“Umm, they work together now, sometimes. Or they compete, in a friendly way. Friendlier than before, I mean,” she clarified. “They don’t like each other, I can see that much, but they’ve stopped trying to sabotage each other.”

“And you think Bastion is the cause of that.”

She shrugged. “He’s a common friend. And the Cutie Mark Crusaders are open to boys now. For membership, I mean, obviously.”

“Uhuh. So there’s no chance he’s using them as a feeding opportunity?”

The changeling mouthed a very clear “No, no,” through the chicken and waved his arms around to deny it all.

As if he needed to. “Not a chance. He’s a smart boy, you can see it in his eyes. From what I hear, he was groomed to be a strategist when he grew up, and, well, if he wanted to feed, he’d act differently. He knows what his friends like and what they love. He’d be more efficient about it. And besides, even if he was feeding, if he did try to do something bad, someone would notice. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle have very close families. Nothing could happen to them without anypony noticing, not something like this.”

Geirolf made more notes. “What about the other boys?” he asked before she could elaborate.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve compared him to fillies so far. What about colts?”

Fluttershy tried to think and, to her horror, realised she couldn’t answer that. “I don’t know. I don’t really know the colts as personally as I do the girls. They’re my friends’ little sisters. I guess the only boy I’ve seen Bastion talk to a lot is Rumble.”

“And compared to him, is Bastion normal?”

“Oh, I don’t think you can call Rumble normal in the first place, actually.” She chuckled nervously. “He’s a very strong flyer, very dedicated to practice. He used to be a bit of a ghost in Ponyville, he could walk right by and you’d never notice.”

“How strong would you say he is?”

Fluttershy hesitated. This was a trap, it had to be: if she praised Rumble too much, then Geirolf would assume Bastion was posing as Rumble sometimes, to feed off the praises the little colt was getting. She couldn’t lie, though; he’d see through that right away.

“He’s about as strong as the little jocks racing in Cloudsdale,” Fluttershy replied. “But he doesn’t compete yet.”

“It says here he was involved in Ponyville’s tornado duty. Must be a pretty impressive kid, then, a good influence.”

A drop of cold sweat ran down her spine. Oh, he was getting close to some questions she did not want to answer, or even think about. “I wouldn’t know. I never even noticed him during practice.”

Geirolf jotted down another note, and Fluttershy’s heart skipped a beat.

She’d failed. Everything she’d said was now moot, easily dismissed because clearly she was not an attentive mare who could be trusted. I’m sorry, Bastion. I tried.

“What about animals, then? Have you seen him react to dogs, cats, or other animals?”

No. She could still salvage this if she proved she paid attention. “Well, there was one time he chased-” she gasped.

Geirolf tilted his head, like an owl trying to stare down a silly mouse who thought it’d be escaping a very important dinner appointment. “He chased… whom?”

She gulped. “It was nothing. It wasn’t a big deal. It still isn’t a big deal.”

Again, Bastion was trying his best to make some gesture to divert the conversation. He reached for his blackboard, grabbed the chalk, then froze.

She saw him freeze. He was panicking, wherever he was. He probably hadn’t planned on this particular incident coming up, and he had no response to it.

“I’ll be the judge of that, Ma’am. You say he chased someone through town.”

“It wasn’t a violent chase, honestly. It was a playful little chase. Children, umm, do it all the time.”

“Ma’am, regardless of what my comportment may imply, I am, in fact, not as dumb as an owlette in a hall o’ mirrors. So, if ya don’t mind, provide me with some details, please? I’d hate to have to report a worrying event to my superiors.”

The com chicken revealed Bastion holding his head, thinking hard.

“It wasn’t anything to worry about, I swear,” she said calmly, and loud enough for the chicken to pass on the message. “Nothing out of the ordinary and certainly not something he should get in trouble for.”

“Good. Then you won’t mind telling me what it was, now, will you?”

“Kill it! Kill it!”

Fluttershy’s ears perked when she heard the battle cry. The voice calling it out was distinct, and like most ponies she’d gotten used to hearing it around town, as occasional background noise. Sure, the double echo aspect that somehow resided in changeling vocal chords was off-putting at first, but ponies had gotten quite used to it after a month or so.

Still, to hear Bastion calling for murder, especially of a some-thing rather than a some-one, that rang a few alarm bells.

The mare was all the more confused when she saw the boy rushing past Ponyville Market, where she was discussing Mister Grizzle’s diet with Mister Bumbles.

“Well now, I don’t mind having a bear around, Miss Fluttershy, but a stallion’s gotta keep his livelihood safe.”

Fluttershy nodded in agreement. Her bear was a lovely creature, very gentle, but terribly clumsy, and prone to gluttony, as all bears were. She always had mixed feelings about buying honey for him. On the one hoof, it was a safe way for him to indulge his instincts without hurting anypony. On the other, the taste of honey might be a trigger for him to go and seek it out.

Of course, she trusted her bear, but she was careful, regardless, as all ponies were around potentially dangerous creatures.

“Ma’am, I’m gonna need you to stick to the point, please?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Then you makin’ impli-I say makin’ implications about dangerous creatures whilst we’re discussin’ a young changeling callin’ for outright murder of an innocent individual, in public, no less, that’s meant to be a coincidence, is it?”

“Well, when you put it like that...”

“Whom did he chase?”

“Not whom,” Fluttershy replied, looking down at her tea. “What. And I didn’t realise it at first, but Mister Bumbles knew.”

“The honey seller. He had a different vantage point or what?”

She tapped her ears. “He caught the sound. He gave me a jar, and I gave chase.”

Fluttershy quickly dashed off with the jar in hoof. Bastion ran by the edge of the marketplace, firing off little shots of magic that dissipated into harmless globs of adhesive, careful never to fire at a pony.

“Kill it! Kill it!”

Fluttershy saw his target, bobbing and weaving past the shots. She opened the jar and slammed it shut, trapping it inside.

Bastion finally caught his breath. “You caught it. Thank you. That thing was in my hive. It was reporting back to get reinforcements.”

“You mean to tell me there was an enemy incursion by Chrysalis and it was never reported?”

“No. It wasn’t from his home hive. It had been in his pet hive, his beehive. He’d been chasing a Neighsian hornet.”

“Oh, my gosh.” Fluttershy turned the jar around to inspect the thing up close. “What is it doing all the way out here?”

“You have to kill it, Miss Fluttershy. It’s going to kill my beehive and it’s going to kill every hive it can find-” He stopped himself halfway. “Oh, wait. You don’t kill these things here, huh?”

“Not usually, no.” She took a good look at the thing. Sure enough, it had the golden markings of a Neighsian hornet, rather than the red of the Equestrian one. “But we do try to keep track of them.”

He cringed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

“It’s okay, you didn’t know. Did you get these back home?”

He nodded. “They’re terrible. Every time we found a beehive, we had to make sure none of those things found it. And, umm, some of our enemies spread them around, just to spite us.”

She put the jar away in her saddlebags. “I understand. And Chrysalis didn’t believe in having your own beehives, either, so losing them in the wild must be pretty bad.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said with a pout.

“It’s okay. You’re just trying to protect what you hold dear. Any pony would do the same.”

“Embellishing the facts again, Miss Fluttershy?”

“No, sir. To be honest, I don’t remember what he said, exactly, but I know what I said. Lyra and Bon Bon told me, and so did Twilight: you have to be careful what you say to Bastion, because he doesn’t always process things the same way we do. No, umm, I thought about it before I said it, and I remember it. Those were my exact words. And...” She drank down her tea, as if she were gulping down liquid courage. “I’d say it again if it happened again. He was only trying to protect his little beehive, the same way I would try to protect my chickens from foxes, the same way Applejack would. He doesn’t always know what ponies think is right and wrong, but he guesses. I made sure he knew that his guess was right, mostly. And I would have done the same if he’d been a pony from far away, too, or a griffon.”

Relief washed over the boy in the chicken. He slumped back in his seat, and stared at the ceiling.

Geirolf nodded. “Does he have his own set of morals, do you think?”

And there came the tension again. “YES,” said the blackboard, in large letters.

“I think he does know right from wrong, yes, even if he doesn’t quite know how it applies to ponies, not all of it. But I would trust him, as much as I’d trust any foal who doesn’t know that much about the world yet.”

“But is that him, then, or is that Ponyville’s influence on him?”

Fluttershy looked away and sighed. “I’m not sure. I see him around sometimes, and his eyes… I don’t think he’s back to his normal self yet. Whatever his normal self is.”

“And you base this on… what observations, exactly?”

Fluttershy bit her lip. Don’t look at the chicken, just be honest. “It’s in his eyes, and his body language. Not all the time, but sometimes, more often than he should. He acts and moves like a puppy that was taken away from its mother too soon. He’s confident when he needs to act it, but uncertain when he thinks no one’s watching, if that makes any sense. He’s very calculating, very… thinking, but not feeling yet. It’s hard to explain, he’s been changing recently, it’s only been like that for a few weeks.”

Geirolf raised an eyebrow. “For the better or for the worse?”

“If I say for the worse, will he be in trouble?”

“That all depends what kind of worse it is, Ma’am, so I’d suggest you think carefully and be as accurate as possible.”

“Okay. When he first came here, he seemed to act normal, literally. If you met him in Ponyville, if you talked to Miss Cheerilee or any pony around him, they’d tell you how his eyes lit up when he learned something new. He liked learning how to behave, and everypony encouraged him.”

“Wrongly,” Geirolf said. “In your opinion.”

She forced herself to keep her eyes down, looking at the table, anything to avoid seeing Bastion’s response.

“I didn’t want to bring it up at the time, but yes. I haven’t needed to take care of many abused animals, but I’ve heard stories. To me, it looked like Bastion was overwhelmed, and just putting up a brave face, or playing a part. Maybe that’s just his nature. But now a little bit of time’s passed, and his eyes don’t light up like they used to. He looks like a worrier, and he can’t act normal anymore, it’s harder for some reason. When he’s somewhere in public he can sort of still put up an act, but when he’s alone or with friends, his ears flick too much, his eyes dart around, his voice shakes and changes in the middle of a sentence. I’m not sure if it’s a phase or if it’s a good thing.”

“Alright, much obliged.” Geirolf stowed away his notes and stood up. Immediately, the chicken returned to normal, not a trace of any trickery to be found.

“That’s it?”

“I have more calls to make, Ma’am. That will suffice for now.”

“You’re not taking him away, are you?”

“Not based on what you said, Ma’am. We’ve spoken to some of the other changelings of Alveola, they voiced some concerns, and you’re voicing nothin’ that don’t align with those concerns. But such concerns are, you’ll understand, a private matter and will remain such until the boy or his family consent to makin’ it public. We don’t want him getting into another press scandal too soon, do we?”

Fluttershy, reluctantly, nodded. “No, sir.”

“Don’t worry, Ma’am. We’re professionals. The boy will be fine, eventually. No matter what happens.”

Fluttershy waited until Geirolf had flown off before grabbing both chickens.

“Bastion, are you there?”

The one that had been on her bookcase lit up again and showed the boy’s face. “I’m here. Did you really mean all that?”

“Yes. And I am very disappointed in you, Bastion, you know better. Spying on ponies is not okay.”

He whimpered. “I know that, but they’re trying to take me away! I have to do everything I can to stop that. I can’t lose another...”

Fluttershy sighed. “You can’t lose two more moms. I know. But Bastion, this isn’t the right way to do it.”

“Yes, it is. I’ve planned for this, I know what to do this time. I’m not gonna lose. I can fix this, Miss Fluttershy. I can fix everything.”

Fluttershy shook her head. “I guess I can’t really stop you from here. But remember to come pick these things up, okay? I don’t want any more spying in my house.”

“Don’t worry, it’s just for today, I promise. You have my word.”

The chickens went dark. Fluttershy sighed.

Angel Bunny tugged at her tail.

“I know, Angel,” Fluttershy said. “He’s probably eavesdropping all over Ponyville, too. I guess Apple Bloom really has been rubbing off on him.”

The Gift of Fortunate Encounters.

“What are you doing here?” Starlight Glimmer asked, approaching the table.

“Same as you: helping with the research,” Sunburst said. “We’ve already got the list of relevant spells lined up.”

“Relevant spells? Relevant to what?”

Starlight now noticed the pile of paperwork on the table: scrolls, stamped reports, hastily drawn sketches, a few arcane symbols here and there, nothing that stood out to her.

“Our allies have brought it to our attention that Chrysalis may have had a long-term plan, something beyond mere territory acquisition or feeding,” Celestia explained.

Sapphire nodded. “We surrendered what knowledge we had, and… some experts are starting to think she lied to all of us, including her own changelings.”

“How so?”

“Some spells she asked me to develop, and a lot of the artifacts we stole, they don’t really make sense from a strategic or a tactical perspective. She either asked for small alterations to things that already existed, different variations of what we already had multiple versions of, or things that were, well, incomplete by design. The Hives we sacked, the incursions into naga and panda lands, her overall approach to things doesn’t seem to be consistent with a tyrant looking for new weapons. We’re not entirely sure what it is consistent with,” Sapphire said.

“Then there’s the attack on Canterlot,” Celestia added. “Chrysalis made sure to have her minions block access to my vault, but she sent more of her forces to my library.”

Starlight squinted, thinking. “That is weird. Wouldn’t it make more sense to just infiltrate thelibrary?”

Celestia nodded. “It would, unless she were looking specifically for something in the restricted section, where a mere infiltrator cannot pass. There is nothing she could have stolen from us here that would prove dangerous on its own, but...”

The penny finally dropped. “But they could be pieces of a more dangerous spell.”

“Indeed. That is why I called for you. Sapphire Gaze is the most powerful mage the changelings have. She has an instinctual knowledge of what powers they possess innately and how they would react to any acquired magic. She is also well-versed in the limits of their genetic memory. As for Sunburst, he is one of my most clever students.”

“Clever dropouts, you mean,” Sunburst corrected. “I did flunk nearly all my classes, if you’ll recall.”

Sapphire licked her lips and made a face as if she’d tasted something sour. It was only after Starlight noticed that reaction that she realised she felt sorry for her friend.

Uh oh. She’s reading my emotions. Keep it together, Starlight, you don’t want anyone to know what you’ve been up to.

“Be that as it may,” Celestia continued, undisturbed, “your grasp on the theoretical concepts are second to none, and while you may lack depth in your studies, you do have the broadest range of magical knowledge I could ask for. Between the two of you, we can get a complete picture of everything Chrysalis has at her disposal. What we lack, however, is a pony who can put such knowledge together and predict what she will do with these resources. That’s where you come in, Starlight.”

“Most of my work is based on emotions fueling magic, like changelings. And I know how to combine spells, with a little chaos magic. I know what spells are made of, or could be made of.”

“Exactly. Many of the Queen’s experiments revolve around knowledge-based magic: sending and storing information. Your experience with lethemancy and conceptual magic will be valuable there. As for the rest… it’s rare to find a pony who knows chaos magic and who’s actually useful in these situations. I believe you may be such a rare find, if you don’t mind me saying so. Do you think you can help us?”

Starlight took a deep breath, looked from Sunburst to Sapphire, and nodded. “Okay, let’s start with the list first. I think we’d better start trying to order everything by domain. Chrysalis isn’t much of a scholar herself, is she?”

“Definitely not.” Sapphire scowled.

“Good. Then we should use the system she’s most likely to be using herself: the Eight Schools of the Lorebinding Shore.”

“The Sorcerers of the Shores? But we just arranged everything by power source,” Sunburst said.

“Sources don’t matter, not for this” Starlight took a paper in her magic and put it aside. “It’s the sinks that matter, where you’re pouring power into. Speaking of which, Sapphire, there’s something that’s been bothering me. I read in the papers that most changelings are brainwashed at birth, is that true?”

“Yes, it’s true,” Sapphire explained. “Stunted growth from an early age makes it easier to manipulate them.”

“But you still form families like ponies do?”

“To the extent that we’re allowed to, yes.”

Starlight rubbed her chin, thinking. “Okay, we should write that down as a separate element, too, if you haven’t already. That’s relevant.”

“Why?” Sapphire asked.

“Because with all due respect, it doesn’t make any sense. If you want to brainwash ponies, you don’t need to be there at birth. You can just zap them with magic once or condition them the regular way, they won’t break out of that as long as you’re thorough.”

The blue-eyed Archmage stared at her for a moment. “Changelings.”

“What?”

“If you want to brainwash changelings you don’t need to go that far. You said ‘ponies.’”

“Did I? I meant changelings, of course.” Starlight let out a nervous chuckle.

“I’ll go get you some coffee,” Celestia said. “I’m sure my sister won’t mind if I pilfer some of her personal stock for the sake of the nation.”

–

Gytha wandered into Ponyville aimlessly. The local residents turned to her as she passed by, but none made a move to speak to her. She didn’t think she looked that scary, truth be told, she was smaller than most adult griffons, even the females. Her headfeathers were long enough at the front to form a minor barrier for her deep green eyes, and her claws were blunt little things, not at all like most of the predatory creatures under King Alberic’s rule. Her face, while she still possessed the sharp beak of an eagle, had the black and white markings of a magpie, completely out of place with her grey panther-like body.

She patted her bags with her black wings and sighed. Looking around, she realised she was quite lost. Pegasi flew overhead, pushing clouds around. She thought she might ask one of them about where to find her target, but quickly decided against it, as she didn’t want to interrupt anyone doing important work. Gytha tried to pick out a pony who seemed likely to be helpful, but it took her a few blocks before such an opportunity presented itself.

When it did, Gytha breathed a sigh of relief. In sight was a dark pink pony lacking both wings and horn, meaning this creature would only be able to speak with her and not use magic to signal the alarm or fly away and make a scene. On top of that, it was a mare, and one with several smiling flowers stamped on her flank. Gytha figured this would mean the mare in question was, by nature, accommodating even to a griffon, and no doubt would be able to point Gytha in the right direction.

The mare was perusing the wares of a fruit stand, sniffing the apples at a cart managed by an older, green mare. Gytha briefly reconsidered her course of action, as the older pony spotted her before her target did. If she made too sudden a move, she might cause a panic. The Pegasus ponies might go into their emergency protocols and try to blow her away with a miniature tornado. It would draw quite the attention to her.

Still, if she didn’t act now, she wasn’t going to get anywhere today.

Stealth and tact be damned, she approached the pink mare and introduced herself. “Hello, Miss. My name is Gytha.”

The pony, thankfully, didn’t panic at the sight of her. “Oh, hello, you must be here for Bastion. My name is Cheerilee.”

They were expecting griffons. Of course they were. Gytha felt very silly in forgetting. “I’m looking for the mayor of this town, actually. Do you know where she is?”

“She’s waiting for you in the park, I think. I’ll drop off my groceries and take you.”

“Oh, you don’t need to go out of your way for me.”

Cheerilee chuckled. “I’m the local teacher. Bastion is in my class.”

“Oh.”

“I assume if you’re talking to the mayor about Bastion, you’ll want to talk to me about him, too? Or is one of your colleagues meant to do that instead?”

“No, no,” Gytha lied. “Please, lead the way. I’d love to hear your opinion of the boy.” She smiled as best as she could and nodded. “Tell me everything, and spare no details.”

“Well, we’ve certainly found a method to her madness,” Sapphire started. “But still no clue as to where it would lead.”

Starlight sighed. “It’s progress, at least. Sunburst, if you’d do the honours?”

The stallion brought up a stack of papers in his magic, the ones that had been filed under ‘Divination.’ In the old system of arranging magic by school, this field was mostly specialised in the acquisition of knowledge. A second stack, filed under ‘Enchantment,’ quickly joined it, which listed all the different forms of mental manipulation the Queen would have access to. “She’s been trying to progress three things, that we can tell. The first, which is in these two piles, is a form of transference magic.”

Sapphire hummed in agreement. “To both increase the amount of power we can gain from absorbing love and to start draining other things. Looking at the general trend, she means to absorb knowledge as well as emotional energy.”

“That’s where her most recent raids on the naga come from: the pearl she tried to steal wasn’t the target, but the magic it contained was. That attack was a simple experiment to see if her drones could carry that type of magic, and to produce stronger, more efficient means of communication. That’s probably why she targeted the Canterlot Vault as well: she wanted to steal the magic from the artifacts there, or at least try. It’s consistent with her attacks in panda lands, targeting paper makers.”

“Which brings us to point two: she’s been stealing the ability to steal. She’s made numerous incursions into panda territory all aimed at their knowledge of life energy,” Sunburst continued. “There were reports of a water devil near Beargundy that turned up dead about a year ago. Given the abilities those creatures have-”

“Stealing the memories of a lifetime contained in a dying breath,” Starlight added.

Sunburst nodded. “We can reasonably assume Chrysalis killed that one in an attempt to fine-tune her own draining skills.”

“She didn’t,” Celestia said, before sipping some coffee.

Silence fell over the room.

“That one died at the hooves of a pony, actually. We’ve kept the details sealed, though,” Celestia explained. “But there was, indeed, a dead water devil sighting more recently, a month or so ago. That one was haunting Alherda. And that attack was consistent with energy-draining magic that the pandas are so fond of.”

Sunburst whistled, impressed. “Alherda, though? That’s rough. Lots of places around to hide in, and lots of other things to run into in the mountain caves.”

“Indeed,” Celestia said. “Assuming that was her. And you had no knowledge of this, Sapphire? You weren’t aware your kind was capable of stealing memories?”

Starlight heard the clatter of changeling teeth, along with buzzing wings. “Feeding off of emotional energy of our own kind is not a trait we’re fond of, so no. We have done it before, but there are limits, mostly by family ties. I couldn’t drain the skills of an Archmage from another Hive, but they could cannibalise on certain memories to preserve their knowledge, assuming their rightful heir was the one doing it. If Chrysalis is trying to get past that limit, she has to have an end goal in mind. She’s trying to improve what she can steal, and she’s trying to improve what she can send, then. But send to where? Why bother with divination magic at all if she can just suck out knowledge for herself?”

“And that’s point three: she’s had a long-term focus on plant-based magic, and on crystal magic. She got most of that from the rival Hives she destroyed,” Sunburst added. “That’s a little less cut and dry, but if we combine it with what Sapphire told us of changeling communication methods, it’s possible Chrysalis wants to make some sort of magical network or receptacle for whatever it is she’s going to steal.”

“A Hive Mind,” Celestia said. “To link up the receptacles containing stolen knowledge. Which still begs the question: what stolen knowledge would these receptacles contain? What could be large enough to require a network? And what would be the point of doing it at all? She can wipe the minds of her subjects easily, why go through all this trouble?”

“Trial and error, perhaps?” Sapphire suggested. “It’s always possible she didn’t get what she wanted on every attempt.”

Starlight squinted. “You mentioned the War Engineer knew some spells Chrysalis didn’t know yet.”

“Not a spell exactly, a variant of our innate transmutation magic,” Sapphire replied, wincing as she contemplated it. “He figured out how to shapeshift into a swarm of insects, and then change the nature of those individual insects. He didn’t tell any of us until shortly before he, well...”

Celestia hummed to herself. “Yes, that is an old legend. It’s a type of power attributed mostly to vampires and the undead. Why let another changeling research it, though? Would she not simply take that power for herself?”

“Even attempting to get that power comes with risks. It’s extremely dangerous to the wielder’s sanity,” Sunburst said. “At least, according to some sources. Very old sources, that is.”

“I’m not sure Chrysalis was even aware he had that power. If she was, she didn’t want Faux Pas to know her plan,” Starlight reasoned. “She didn’t want any changeling to know her full plan, so she never allowed any of her free-thinking changelings to have all the pieces. Sunburst, what kind of control spells require an empty mind?”

“Err, you mean from the pony casting it?”

“No, from the target.”

“Well, none do. That’s the whole point of a control spell: you override the target.”

“You still think she wanted to use the drones for experimentation?” Sapphire asked. “That’s why she kept them suppressed?”

“It’s a theory. But what was the goal?”

Celestia sighed. “And more importantly, what is she missing to achieve it now?”

Starlight shook her head. “This isn’t getting us any closer. Okay, backing up to what we’re absolutely sure of: whatever she intends to do requires a transfer of knowledge, of energy, and it somehow requires a degree of conditioning, of an empty mind. There can’t be that many spells that would benefit from that, are there?”

“None that exist, no,” Sunburst said. “There’s a lot of spells that are dangerous to the one casting it, so if anything you’d rather have a drone do it. Except, of course, she can already teach her army new spells, and she doesn’t need to blank them at birth even for that kind of spell, so why bother? It has to be something new, if she’s willing to go that far for it.”

“That would be your department, Starlight Glimmer,” Celestia remarked.

Starlight sighed. I don’t see it. Why can’t I see it? This should be right up my alley, why is this so hard? “The knowledge and feeding is one piece. The other piece is her drones. She’s keeping them empty-minded for a reason, that kind of control has to be for a purpose.”

“Why do you keep insisting that’s on purpose?” Sapphire asked.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because Chrysalis is cruel,” Sapphire explained. “She does not need a reason to treat us like inferior creatures.”

“Maybe. Still, I say it’s too sloppy. You said she… she blanks changelings at birth, slowly corrupting them and suppressing their growth, right?”

“Yes, and?”

“And, even if you’re being cruel, that’s a horribly inefficient way of doing it. If you’ve already decided someone has to be a mindless drone, you only need to hit them once with a simple spell, you can wait and see how strong they turn out before you potentially waste one. You can get other changelings to be cruel and loyal if you want to. And why allow little changelings to bond with their birth mother at all if you’re going to imprint yourself as their mother later? Or their Queen, or whatever? It’s too risky, and the regular way is easier. Even if the goal is to keep others from controlling them, a simple blanking spell still gives you the same protection, better protection, even, because you’re not leaving any back doors open.”

Sunburst stroked his goatee, thinking out loud. “We’re still not sure if she needs them in a certain state of mind to have them cast a specific spell. This whole thing could be to improve her army.”

“Okay, maybe, but if she’s willing to risk losing free-minded changelings to their imprinted personalities, that means there’s a specific degree of control she wants, she needs. Let’s assume Faux Pas did get that swarm form behind her back. Let’s say that’s not something she wanted. Why would you need to experiment with different levels of brainwashing magic?” Sapphire asked.

Starlight groaned and looked down at the piles, at the eight classical schools of magic, defined ages ago. “It would help if we knew what school she was aiming for.” She went over the list in her mind: evocation, divination, conjuration, enchantment, illusion, transmutation, abjuration, and… Of course. “How familiar are you with necromancy?”

Sapphire quirked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Death magic. Making zombies, vampirism, mummies, that kind of thing. How much of it do you know?”

“Well, I suppose our draining love would count as necromancy, technically, but I don’t see how Chrysalis ties into that. She’s trying to drain knowledge, not more life.”

“It’s not the life draining that concerns me. She’s trying to drain both life and knowledge, memories. Transferring life and memories to a receptacle, that doesn’t ring any bells to you?”

Sunburst held up the papers. “Whoa, you’re right. If you put it all together, then it almost looks like...”

Celestia sighed. “Chrysalis is a prospective bodyhopper.”

Sapphire looked back and forth at the ponies, confused. “I’m sorry, what?”

“The griffons have suggested it to me several times now. I wanted to get confirmation from an unbiased source, because… well, this type of thing is more common in their lands, they have it embedded in their culture as a result. They see signs of it everywhere, even when they shouldn’t.” The alicorn’s hackles rose up, the shimmering form of her mane quivered. “With disastrous consequences, sometimes. But your assessment seems to confirm their suspicions.”

Sapphire Gaze shook her head. “I’m sorry, I really don’t follow. What’s a bodyhopper?”

“It’s a form of death magic,” Sunburst said. “One that allows for a… primitive form of immortality, if you can repeat it often enough. Several rites exist, but the basic procedure is always the same: at the time of death, eject the soul into a new vessel, both your life energy and your memories. The most common and reliable way of doing it is to do it with an unborn child as the vessel. The closer the bonds of blood, the easier it is to gain access to the body. Needless to say, the ones that do it like that are usually male, and their method is, typically, umm, messy.” He blushed and looked away.

“Chrysalis can’t be a bodyhopper, though: both of her parents were alive when she was born. They only died in the war with the rival Hives, that’s what the papers said,” Starlight noted.

“Obviously she’s never reincarnated before,” Sunburst said. “But that doesn’t mean she can’t try it. It fits the pattern: females can’t do it that easily, as a rule, but species that lay eggs have an advantage, since the egg can survive without the mother. There are records of it, confirmed cases of ponies incarnating into, well, other adults, even, but I guess at that point it’s debatable if that’s reincarnating or just possession. Thing is, even the legendary ones lost pieces of themselves.”

Sapphire shuddered. “What do you mean by ‘pieces,’ exactly? Memories?”

“Mm, primarily, but not exclusively. The point of bodyhopping is to preserve your self, both your personality and instincts as well as the memories of your past life. Without some way to link both memories and innate instincts, it’s a flawed process.”

“Cutie marks link instincts,” Starlight added. “Personality traits, talents, even certain magics.”

“Exactly. Pony bodyhoppers are an exception, though, exactly because we have cutie marks that give us magic and store at least part of our knowledge: they don’t appear at birth, so anything you carry over can be overwritten. Of course, that does mean any pony bodyhoppers could carry that knowledge in their cutie marks in the first place, but that’s a long lost knowledge. I’m pretty sure no pony’s even tried to do that kind of thing since Ivory Tower was destroyed two centuries ago. The mare, I mean, not the location.”

Celestia shuddered. “Don’t remind me. That filly absolutely refused to learn her lesson, even after five deaths. Still, with no more pony bodyhoppers around, that means Chrysalis can’t jump-start her plans by stealing bodyhopper cutie marks, and it does shed some light on why she would want to keep her Hive the way it is. She can’t blank her drones entirely because she hasn’t calibrated her spell yet. She’s testing the limits of her imprinting powers, preparing to imprint and possess someone, or simply reincarnate.”

“That’s why she wanted to start implanting personalities instead of letting me do it,” Sapphire said. “I never had any problem with changelings forgetting who they were, but Chrysalis...”

“Chrysalis was mimicking a possession every time she tried,” Celestia said. “She wanted to know how much she can preserve of the original, and how much free will is too much to let the new memories stick. She’s working up to the ultimate theft magic: to take a whole life’s worth of power away and take it over. To think she’d use her own kind for such experiments so callously...”

“Classic ascension scheme,” Sunburst said. “It doesn’t matter what you sacrifice if the reward is absolute. Every magical villain in history’s tried it at some point.”

Starlight suppressed a chuckle. Almost every magical villain. I never planned on immortality.

Forced though it was, Celestia smiled, at Starlight in particular. “Good work, everyone. I’ll inform our allies, they’ll know where to tighten security with this information. Any region with a history of vampiric magic will be a target. So will any pony with powerful innate magic. If she’s been blanking her drones on different levels like that for generations, then she’s obviously hoping to take over a powerful pony and reap the rewards of their life. Every Unicorn of a high level will be a potential target.”

Starlight shuddered. “Including ponies like me.”

“I’m more worried about the ones in the public eye, yes, but you should take your precautions. If you are correct, and I have no reason to assume you’re not, then she steals the ability to steal. You have the medical background to take away cutie marks. If she takes your powers, if she takes over your life...”

“But she can’t take my powers yet,” Starlight said. “She doesn’t have the skill for it. All she could do is steal energy, and maybe some memories if she manages to use that water devil magic. She’d have to choke me for that, and she wouldn’t be any closer to possessing me. As long as she can’t steal cutie marks, we’re safe, right?”

Celestia went silent.

Starlight blinked. “Right?”

“I received word… while I was fetching coffee. It seems Chrysalis did find a creature capable of stealing magic, and even cutie marks. She waylaid it, and given what we know, she stole its ability to steal,” Celestia admitted. “Presumably using her new water devil magic to do so.”

Sunburst wiped his glasses, and looked confused at the Princess. “But water devils steal through breath. Did this… creature do the same?”

“No,” Celestia said. “It stole by inhaling. Hence the water devil magic: she stole the breath that steals. Or tried to, at least, we don’t know if she was successful.”

“Was it a powerful monster?” Starlight asked.

“Weakened from lack of feeding, but yes, powerful at full force. Beyond powerful if left unchecked.”

Starlight made a mental note that while she did fully intend to rid ponies of their restricting and damning cutie marks eventually, other creatures were already unburdened by such arcane brands and it was probably a good idea to think of countermeasures before she made any drastic decisions. Still, she remained calm at the prospect. “Okay, but that’s still not a big concern,” Starlight said. “Stealing magic doesn’t follow the same rules as stealing vital energy. At the bare minimum, she’s going to have to steal a cutie mark next, and those are hard to hold. You can’t contain a cutie mark just like that, you need a…”

“A receptacle?” Celestia asked. “Like, say, a crystal or a magical plant? The type of thing she went to war with the other Hives for? Or perhaps a changeling who’s been blanked at birth? Maybe one with a small degree of free will, just enough to use the stolen power but not enough to resist a command?”

“I was thinking a glass bottle, actually,” Starlight replied. “You need a thick jar, but you can hold a cutie mark in place pretty easily if you have glass.”

“The changeling Hive doesn’t have glass,” Sapphire Gaze said. “We never did. Chrysalis said it was too much of a civilised thing, and we had no need for it. But, knowing the whole picture now, she probably didn’t want any of us experimenting on our own. It’s a lot harder to hide when you have to use drones. Still, she does have those aplenty, still. If she comes after a pony, she’s not going to put any magic in a jar, it’s going to be used right away.”

“Yes,” Starlight replied. “I think I see your point. But still, this is Chrysalis we’re talking about here. She doesn’t have the capacity to just possess a pony and take over their life. That kind of knowledge is long lost, and there aren’t any ponies around for her to steal it from anymore, even if she does have that stealing magic.”

“I appreciate your optimism, but you are forgetting: she doesn’t need to be successful to be a threat. The mere attempt can cause enough suffering. Be careful, Starlight Glimmer. You are harder to find than the likes of Sunburst, but I do not know how deep the changeling threat goes. You have a power that can reach cutie marks as well, and she may be able to take that much from you, I fear. If Chrysalis gets you in her sights, I trust that you will defend yourself as best as possible, or that you’ll arrange for other, more drastic measures to be put in place.”

For once, fear gripped Starlight’s heart. “I don’t really know if I can.”

“I’m sure you can think of a few options.” With that, Celestia walked off.

“We’ll deal with that when the time comes,” Sapphire said. “In the meantime, I’m up for lunch.”

“And I am late for an auction,” Sunburst said.

“You go to auctions now?” Starlight started.

“Of course. Can you believe somepony’s actually selling a traditional mask worn by one of Mage Meadowbrook’s apprentices?”

“No, can’t imagine that,” Starlight joked. “You should run, then, if you want to get it.”

“Well, it was nice seeing you again, Starlight. If you want to catch up, you know where to find me.”

The dagger that went through her heart at that was almost palpable. “Yeah. I know exactly where to find you. Have fun at the auction!”

He was already gone, galloping through the palace with reckless abandon and complete disregard for protocol.

All those years, and he’s still weird. Silent as the night until he spots something he likes, then a one-pony stampede.

Celestia had left. Sunburst had left.

Sapphire Gaze had not. “Care to join me for lunch? I’d love to hear your stories.”

“Oh, I don’t have many stories to tell, really.”

“You could start with the one between you and Sunburst.”

“That’s personal.”

“Or the one about you trying to take over Equestria. That strikes me as something of more public interest.”

Starlight froze. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve been trying to feed on your emotions all morning and frankly, you’re giving me heartburn in both hearts. Us changelings don’t just feed off the love of good ponies, you know. I know the taste of an evil mastermind when I get it, and you, Starlight, have a very distinct bitterness of illegality to yourself. And while Princess Celestia may be more oblivious, or more forgiving, I’m mostly just intrigued.”

Starlight gulped. “What do you want?”

“I just said what I want, did I not? You seem like an interesting pony, and I could do with a distraction. Unless you’re so evil you’d rather strike me down where I stand?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Come now. What’s the harm in talking?”

She sighed. “How much do you know?”

“Only the emotional responses: joy at seeing an old friend again, sadness when he mentioned his failures, nervousness at interacting with him, and then… a core of guilt wrapped around self-importance, sense of righteousness, and lust for vengeance. In short: tell-tale signs of evil intent. Very lingering, too, years worth of it, decades, aged like wine into vinegar. And about as nauseating, if you’ll pardon me saying so. Hardly enough love in you to feed crickets.”

“Then why not report me to the Royal Guard right now?”

“Because one, I’m not tasting any satisfaction, and that usually means it’s only ever gotten as far as scheming, no actual acts. Second, I’m only going by taste and body language, and that’s not a completely accurate way to tell. But most importantly… well, you still have enough guilt and shame to taste. A pony who is too far gone would not, I imagine. So, shall I be having lunch alone? I’m dying for some ginger ale to get my stomach back in order.”

Starlight bit her lip, her horn glowed. She was ready to teleport out. A few quick hops through Canterlot and she could catch a train. A sprinkling of a trace-eraser spell and even Sapphire wouldn’t be able to track her.

She could leave. She could go right back to building her village, like nothing happened.

“No. No, you know what? I’d love to talk, and I think I want to hear your take on it, too. You know, as a changeling and all.”

“Perfect. We can gossip about all the things Celestia isn’t telling us as well.”

The Gift of Clarity

Twilight smiled as the griffon entered the library. Spike was sitting patiently at a table, comic book ready to keep him busy, and Owlowiscious was on his usual perch. Everything looked neat and tidy, perfect to receive an inspection.

Of course, she wasn’t the one being inspected, really, but it’s the thought that counts.

“Hello,” Twilight greeted. “You must be the inspector. I’m Twilight Sparkle.”

“It’s an honour and a pleasure. My name is Gaenorga.” The griffon extended a claw, and Twilight shook it politely. “I’ve heard many good things about you, and I apologise in advance for the inconvenience. I understand you are and your friends are figures of some importance, and while my colleagues can be a bit rough, I assure you we will make this as painless as possible.”

“It’s no problem at all. I’m ready to answer any questions you have,” Twilight said, confidence oozing out of her voice. Indeed, she’d predicted all the possible questions she might get regarding the little changeling in town, and had memorised all the answers by now.

She was perfectly prepared for anything.

“I assumed as much. So I’d like to talk to your dragon first, if you don’t mind.”

Twilight’s ears fell back. “Beg your pardon?”

“Your dragon. Young Spike.” Gaenorga approached the table, and Spike already closed his comic book. “May I?” She asked, gesturing to a chair.

Up above, Owlowiscious let out a questioning “Hoo?”

“Umm, sure, but why do you want to talk to me?” Spike asked. “I thought you were here for Bastion.”

“And why shouldn’t I start with you, then?” Gaenorga said, as if she were joking. “Seems like you two should be good friends, no?”

“Err… not really. We don’t hang out that much at all.”

“Is that so? But you’re so alike.”

Spike shook his head. “No, we’re not. He flies, I don’t. He goes to school, I don’t. He feeds off love, I feed off gems. We’re totally different, and we don’t hang out much.”

“You are also both dangerous to the ponies around you.”

Spike stopped his idle kicking over the seat’s edge and grumbled. “Oh. So that’s your angle. Figures.”

Twilight noticed Owlowiscious looking out the window again and letting out another soft “Hoo,” as if in protest to the situation.

Gaenorga held up a claw and flashed the dragon a polite and formal smile. “Now, now, Sir Dragon, I am not here to make any accusations. I am well aware of your contributions to the Crystal Empire.”

With a shrug, the boy said, “I jumped with a Crystal Heart in my claws. Not exactly Daring Do adventure stuff.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. She admired Spike’s modesty, but part of her suspected that wouldn’t last once someone started actually praising him for his deeds. His ego wasn’t inflated, per se, but it didn’t take much to get it inflated.

“It is for a little boy, and a creature lacking wings, not to mention not knowing how he’ll land. I assure you, it’s more heroic than you might think. But, be that as it may, you are still a dragon among ponies. You live amidst creatures who are potentially in danger, merely and purely on account of your presence. You understand then, of course, why I’d be interested in your opinions on the matter, more than any other. Given that the changeling has similar concerns, I mean. Do ponies ever speak to you about it?”

“No, Ma’am. It only happened once, and it wasn’t the first time Ponyville got wrecked, so no one really minded.” Spike caught himself, and looked behind the griffon.

“Miss Twilight, I’m going to have to ask you to stop making that throat-slitting motion, please? I’m trying to have an honest conversation with your boy here.”

Twilight quickly stopped the motions she’d been making. “Who, me? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I can hear your hooves scratching across your fur, along with your rumbling stomach. You should get that looked at, by the way: I hear stress is a killer for high-level unicorns.”

She winced. “Right. It’s nothing, really. Just close to home, is all.”

“I understand. But back to the matter at hand: no one’s addressed you about your transformation since?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“So no one holds any grudges? No one has the fear of dragons in them because of you?”

“No, Ma’am. Fluttershy’s the only pony I know who’s scared of dragons, and she’s not scared of me, either.”

“It wasn’t his fault that he grew. He wasn’t himself when that happened, so ponies forgave him fairly quickly. Especially considering how popular he is in town. Everyone likes Spike, same as how everyone likes Bastion. No one hates him, certainly,” Twilight said.

“Mhmm. But no one has made any remarks your way? No one knows, say, how to prevent it from happening again?”

Twilight sighed and came to sit next to Spike. “We can’t be a hundred percent sure of what exactly triggered it, no. And we haven’t experimented with it, either, for obvious reasons. I don’t want to put him through that again.”

“Understandable.” Gaenorga nodded. “And medically, you have nothing to fall back on, either, correct? No doctors qualified to treat you? No medicine that you know of?”

“No. But that’s not true for Bastion, though,” Twilight replied. “The council gave us all the information we needed, and the Royal Guard still had their data. Changelings have been among ponies for longer; we know about them. We know how to care for them if we have to.”

“Ah, but that knowledge doesn’t extend to how to fight them, does it? Or how to restrain them?”

Twilight bit her lip. “Wow, you really don’t try to hide your point at all, huh?”

“I leave subtlety to the guilty.”

“No one in Ponyville knows how to stop me, no,” Spike said.

“That’s not true, Spike. I do. Miss Gaenorga, Princess Celestia has been sending me more advanced spells recently. One of them is a ‘Go to Sleep’ spell that has been known to work on dragons, even large ones. If push comes to shove, I can neutralise Spike without hurting him.”

Spike looked up in surprise. “Really? You never told me.”

Twilight’s stomach rumbled again. Another hoot from her owl made her ears twitch. “I didn’t want you to worry, Spike, or get the wrong idea. Discord got into our heads, remember? Chrysalis had some form of mind manipulation that worked on ponies, the Crystal Empire had traps for the mind, as well. If anyone tries to use you against us, we need some way of keeping you safe. I’d never forgive myself if you got hurt, and I know you’d never forgive yourself if you hurt a pony. So… now you know.”

The inspector glared at the pair. “I can’t help but ponder you specified it works on dragons. Are there any countermeasures that work on changelings?”

Twilight winced and nodded. “Umm… yes, I know some, technically, but none that I’d risk using on a child, certainly not willy-nilly. Dragons are tough by nature, and they have an implicit size factor. Changelings have an explicit size factor, magic doesn’t work the same way on them.”

“Of course it doesn’t.”

Twilight leaned closer in a conspiratorial fashion. “You want to know what the procedure is, don’t you?”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” came the casual reply.

“Please don’t play coy with me, Miss Gaenorga. Lyra and Bon Bon are my friends, and their son has been through a lot. If you want to know, just ask.”

“Very well, then. What happens when Bastion goes rogue? What happens when his programming takes over and he goes on a rampage, or starts to sabotage things around here? What happens when he starts changing shape to eavesdrop on you?”

Twilight leaned back, content at having put the conversation back on the rails. “First we establish guilt, through proof. Which, begging your pardon, I find highly unlikely, given that it’s Sapphire Gaze who was the magic expert, not Bastion or his uncle. But, regardless, then I cast all the necessary protection spells and give Spike an emergency scroll to send to Canterlot. After that, I go talk to his mothers, see if they’re compromised. If not, I let them know of the situation, if they are, I either purge them to the best of my abilities or I retreat to safety.”

“And if he manages to catch you before that? He’s a smart boy, I heard. Great tactician.”

Twilight grinned. “Oh, that? That’s a lie, ma’am, a big blatant lie, and there is no way you don’t know that. I’ve seen him at the local game shops: Bastion is a good strategist, but an absolutely lousy tactician. He makes all his decisions before he does something, he can’t adapt to change while he’s making a move. As for what would happen if he got me, well, he’d have to get Spike, too, and my friends. They all have an emergency scroll to send if something happens. Even if they only suspect something.”

“And have they ever?”

“Never.”

“Not even when he attacked Apple Bloom?”

Here, again, Twilight could resort to her rehearsed replies. “That was different. Ponies get into scuffles like that all the time, even among friends. The only difference is he has those spurs on his limbs and he didn’t realise. No, in my opinion, Bastion is no greater hazard than Spike, or any pony. I’ve shared a classroom with more dangerous ponies than him. And frankly, I find the idea that he’d be a safety hazard insulting.”

Owlowiscious let out a happy hoot at that.

Gaenorga looked up at the owl above, squinting before turning her attention back to the Unicorn. “How so? He’s still a changeling, isn’t he?”

“Yes, but he’s trying not to be. Even Spike doesn’t-” She stopped, seeing the trap.

“Spike doesn’t… what?”

Spike decided to be more blunt about it. “She means I don’t try to be anything other than a dragon. But from what I hear, Bastion tries really hard to act like an Earth pony. He hangs out with a woodcutter, with the Apples, he doesn’t fly very often, or use magic.”

“I have offered to teach him, of course, but he’s not interested in anything beyond the basics,” Twilight added. “Same with flying: he has all the opportunities, no one would think of banning him from lessons, but he doesn’t seem to want to take advantage of them. At least so far.”

“Any reason why, in your opinion?”

“My guess is he fixated on the food production. His Hive went hungry for a while, the reason we fear changelings as much as we do is because of their feeding practices. Love and food are two very similar stimuli to his body, it’s pretty clear cut to me.” Twilight looked down and only now noticed Gaenorga’s papers full of scribblings.

She hadn’t even seen the griffon taking notes. Something was off about this one, and it wasn’t just the armband she had that was clearly magical. Her body language, her motions, there was an air of calm menace to it, familiar in some respects but alien in others.

“You don’t think he’s trying to make himself look harmless to hide any ulterior agenda?” Gaenorga asked.

“No. He looks and acts like any of the children in Ponyville.”

This time she did see the griffon write it down. It gave Twilight time to think. “And that’s the issue, isn’t it? You think he shouldn’t be? Why?”

Gaenorga took her time to look Twilight in the eyes. “You are trained in magic, yes? Classically trained, I mean, in the old ways?”

“Classic and modern,” Twilight replied. “Mostly rational, a little bit emotional, and trying my hoof at pure will magic, too.”

“Then I’m sure you’re familiar with the basic mechanisms of necromancy?”

Twilight’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh.”

“I’m curious: does your owl always react so violently to a conversation?”

Twilight looked up, and Owlowiscious looked like he was dancing, or gesturing on a Pegasus landing strip, frantically waving his wings about. “No, he usually… Bastion, is that you?”

“Hoo!” The owl cried out, before flying out through the window.

Twilight made it to the door just in time to see a little green flame land and duck into a corner, headed for Carousel Boutique while her owl took the quickest route to Fluttershy’s cottage. “That wasn’t him, for the record: he was sitting in a tree outside. He’d changed himself into an owl and probably recruited my assistant to signal us.”

“He was eavesdropping on us?” Gaenorga asked.

“I think so.” Twilight went to her bookcase, took out one storybook in particular, and let it fly into the kitchen. “He probably put a listening spell on this book, he returned it this morning.”

The griffon snorted. “He can do that? That kind of magic?”

“I didn’t teach him that, and I’ll certainly be wary of him trying it again, but yes, I’d say it’s well within his limits. Changelings have some innate but primitive communication magic, and because of the emotional factor, it’s not limited by species. Excuse me for one moment?”

Twilight opened her door, popped her head out and cast a retrieval spell for her owl. He came back in short order, followed by a spectral hand that was very busy waggling a finger at him. Owlowiscious let out a guilty hoot and turned his head away from the librarian’s judgement as he went back to his perch.

Gaenorga chuckled. “Quite clever of him. And sneaky. That kind of behaviour doesn’t worry you?”

She closed the door and smiled nervously. “Umm, would it reflect badly on him if I said it didn’t?”

“No. To be perfectly fair, now that we’re alone,” Gaenorga said, before tapping the gem on her bracer and nodding, “I’d have been worried if he didn’t try something like that. All the information we have on him suggested as much. But still, how do you feel about that?”

Twilight sat back down. “I’ve seen worse from some of the other children in town. And I think if you’ve done your research, you know exactly how much worse. So no, I’m not worried. I’m sure he’ll come by tomorrow or next week with some kind of apology, a big apology, too, because he’s very polite like that. But more importantly, now that we are in private...” Twilight crossed her arms and did her best impression of a glare. “I’d like to know just what you are investigating, exactly. If you’re asking me about necromancy, that doesn’t leave too many options. You think Bastion is just a vessel? You think he’s a bodyhopper, perhaps?”

“No,” came the curt reply. “Not him, no. But we’ve had suspicions in the griffon lands that Chrysalis was building up to something in her Hive, generation after generation, even with her relatively young age. Your Princess Celestia will likely send you a warning thereabouts soon.”

“Building up to what? What’s a bodyhopper?” Spike asked.

“A forbidden ritual, a magic ritual,” Twilight said. “Death magic.”

“To reincarnate at will, essentially, usually into an unborn child.” Gaenorga’s tone hardened. “But, with some forms, into another complete and independent living being, to consume its soul and steal the body, reclaim youth by destroying another’s. Lost knowledge, thankfully, completely eradicated. But the problem with eradicated knowledge, of course, is that it is still a form of truth, and...”

“Truth doesn’t change, so it can be rediscovered. And changelings have a genetic memory, at least a rudimentary one.” Twilight rubbed her chin, thinking. “When you put like that, they do fit the profile. But if he’s not a vessel, then what, you think little Bastion has something imprinted in him?”

“I won’t know for sure until I speak with him myself. It’s possible Chrysalis purposely fragmented some knowledge to prevent it being used by someone else.”

“Like Bastion’s uncle, Faux Pas.”

“Exactly. The naga are the ones instigating this investigation, but we griffons have been getting a little antsy on the matter, too. We know many who have tried to perform the Rite, you see, usually on children. Our kind is especially fond of it, being a composite creature ourselves. It comes easier to us because of our dual nature: we have a seam in our soul, if you will, where the bird and cat meet, makes it easier to initiate the injection, so to speak. Then there’s our eggs, which removes another layer of difficulty to the process. To a changeling, with a fluid nature? I shudder to think what progress a mad Queen might make with a whole Hive at her disposal.”

“She did blank her drones early on, with magic. But then why leave her council free-willed like that?”

“She didn’t. She never used magic to control her council, she left them uncorrupted, no doubt as some kind of essence farm. Incarnating over and over, you see, even if it’s successful, you risk losing pieces, memories and knowledge begin to fade. Only the most desperate necromancers risk the consuming variant, and they have to strike a fine balance between the original host and their own spirit. If the host is too strong, the process is fought off like a mere possession. If the host is too weak, there’s no structure to attach to, it effectively means they’ve taken a sick body now, and at best the spirit becomes fragmented. Princess Celestia doesn’t subscribe to our theory yet: she reasons Chrysalis has greater aspirations, possibly trying to resurrect her ancestors or something.”

“I wouldn’t know. I didn’t have a lot of time in her presence. But I wouldn’t put it past her. She did seem a little more crazy evil than regular evil,” Twilight remarked.

“Regardless, their species has access to magic that transfers knowledge through blood, that would make the Rite easier to perform. Bastion shows all the signs of a potential recipient, that is objectively a cause for concern. He was in prime position to have some knowledge implanted, and that is, objectively, another cause for concern. His behaviour, what we know of his training, it doesn’t align with what we know of the War Engineer Faux Pas, and given the pandas had some very in-depth knowledge on that individual, we know for a fact Bastion was not being groomed merely as a successor.”

Twilight nodded. “And on top of that, Bastion is a boy. He was born one, at least. Female bodyhoppers are rare, aren’t they? They can’t perform the ritual just like that, even if they lay eggs. So he’d be a better target, as a stepping stone to the next one. Assuming she doesn’t want to keep on consuming.”

Gaenorga shuddered. “You are well-informed, for a pony. Yes, the male variant is comparatively common, and thankfully blessed with an abysmally low success rate. Females, they… they are slower, less stable, but more elusive as a result. Whatever the case, Bastion being sent here was an unexpected boon. He’s spent enough time among ponies for his conditioning to wear off. His metapersona, his learned personality, is getting weaker. The more he acts like himself, the less likely it is he can be subsumed.”

“But then whatever dangerous knowledge might be buried in him might come back to the surface. If he even has anything.”

“Exactly. Matters concerning the Rite and reincarnation are a sticky subject in international law, that’s why I’m here. A single soul can cause global conflict by hopping from one species to the other, after all, you have to think in terms of generations to fight that. The snakes don’t want to take any chances, they have their own problems with death magic as it is, they’ll nip this in the bud if they can. Personally I don’t think Bastion fits the profile yet, but there’s always a chance he’s not a target, but a container. Could be knowledge, essence, who knows what form it might take. If his uncle did pass anything on to him, it’ll likely have been in secret. So, Miss Twilight, having said that, can I count on you to take the necessary precautions?”

Twilight held a hoof to her chin and thought. “There’s Master Azure’s Storm of Cleansing, Swan Diver’s Inner Flame, and Rockhoof’s Reverse Snake Coil. Any one of those spells would be enough to break that kind of control, without any risk to Bastion’s mind. I haven’t mastered them, but I have the books and I can start on the basics. I should be able to just rip her out if she tries to take him, with no damage to him. As for knowledge… I can do a temporary amnesia spell. If she tries to take anything from him, she’ll leave an opening. If I can get to her within a week, with those spells, I can undo everything she tries, I’m pretty sure.”

“Excellent. That will be all, then.”

“Just one more thing,” Twilight said before Gaenorga could leave. “If he does get stronger from, you know, breaking his conditioning and being himself, would a change of scenery help or hurt?”

“Depends what you have in mind. In principle, if he is starting to recover now, then giving him the chance to find his own self would make any past efforts of conditioning quite useless.”

“So, say, a camp without his parents or his local friends around?”

Gaenorga nodded. “That’s what we usually do with groomed victims, yes. But preferably somewhere secure. Do you have any ideas?”

Twilight winced. “I might know one spot.”

With the Mayor and teacher both located, the next part of the plan was to determine where they might speak. Cheerilee suggested a place called “Sugarcube Corner,” which struck Gytha as a terrible name for a building: sugarcubes were fragile, and prone to crumbling or flaking. To have a building be only a corner of one was just asking for trouble. She shuddered to think how the local Weather Patrol kept the place from dissolving.

But the Mayor quickly corrected course and suggested a place named “Daisy’s.” They could eat brunch there, and Gytha could ask away.

The griffon had no problem with the situation, all in all. The ponies seemed to prefer an outside spot, but Gytha herself asked for seats indoors, so as not to draw too much attention or distractions. The Mayor had agreed, and noted that Sugarcube Corner was out of the question for the exact same reason, so why not.

Once Gytha and the two ponies were seated, the brown mare spoke up. “So, what precisely is it you want to hear from us?”

Gytha took a moment to collect herself, patting her saddlebags nervously.

“Well, umm, I guess the first thing to ask is: what’s it like in Ponyville, for children? Generally speaking, I mean. Is it safe here, are they happy?”

“As happy as you’d expect little foals to be in a small town. They tend to be very active, doing little things to discover their talents or try out new skills.”

“We have a well-maintained park, frequent foal-friendly events, and lots of after-school activities for the little ones to enjoy,” added the Mayor. “As for how safe it is: our Weather Patrol is very competent, and nothing in the Everfree Forest ever comes out without provocation. Children know not to provoke anything, and not to go in there alone.”

“And what about all the incidents in the papers? The Princess of the Night returning? The Ursa Major? That dragon that nearly destroyed the whole town? The draconequus?”

Cheerilee winced at the griffon’s tone. “Gytha, I hope it’s okay to ask, but... do you have children of your own?”

“T-two,” she replied, stammering before smiling dreamily. “Twin boys, toddlers, still. Sweetest things you ever did see.”

“And in the time you’ve had them, has nothing happened in the griffon kingdom? No national crisis, no upheaval? There’s no dangers that tend to cluster around some region?”

“Necromancers, vampires and… changelings,” Gytha spat. “Especially near the Black Mountains.”

“Would you say those dangers are part of life there, or unacceptable to any responsible mother?”

Gytha sighed. “I suppose, having visited there once or twice, I wouldn’t say they are unacceptable. They are rare, relatively speaking. But they still occur there more often than elsewhere. And that is an unfair comparison: we griffons deal with our problems. Ponies just think happy thoughts at them and expect that to fix everything. That’s a horrible way to approach dangers.”

Mayor Mare shook her head. “Usually, yes, but you have to understand thinking happy thoughts at things does work for us. There is actual magic in our friendship, we wouldn’t be relying on it if it didn’t. But perhaps we should go over the incidents one by one, in an official capacity?”

“Please do,” Gytha said.

“Don’t you need to write this down?” Cheerilee asked.

Startled, Gytha quickly got out a pen and paper and started jotting down things. “Yes, yes, of course, sorry. Featherbrain.”

“Right. So, to recap: Nightmare Moon was a national crisis, potentially global. Had she not been stopped, the ramifications would have reached even you. So that’s beyond the purview of normal safety hazards. The same goes for Discord: he’s a villain. It doesn’t matter where you put him, he’s going to cause trouble.”

“But they both came here,” Gytha argued.

“True, and they were both defeated here,” said the mayor. “Had they gone anywhere else, our local heroes would have given chase and the outcome would be the same.”

“They still could have struck any child present.”

“And any adult present would have protected the child, as much as they could,” Mayor Mare retorted. “The Ursa Major was, in fact, an Ursa Minor, a baby. Resorting to violence would have made the situation worse, and drawn more creatures out of the Everfree, not fewer. Proper use of restraint and a little bit of kindness resolved that situation. As for the dragon you’re referring to, you don’t mean Spike, do you?”

“He tried to make a hoard, using one of the local ponies as a hostage.”

“Spike wasn’t himself then,” Cheerilee said. “He couldn’t help it.”

“He could have hurt someone.”

“And he could have gotten hurt in the process. Wonderbolts are trained in classical Pegasus magic. Not the old ice touch, I don’t think,” Mayor Mare said.

“Soarin is,” Cheerilee said. “I think he has an Ice Amulet, too. Keeps his desserts nice and cool, he said. And Spitfire is a licensed Lightning Ring instructor, if I remember right, and then there was one who has a Wind Belt, but I can’t remember who.”

Mayor Mare nodded. “In any case, that particular ice magic is not common anymore, but physical enhancements through magic are. Wonderbolt wings can cut through solid stone, and I believe you know full well they can slice open a dragon’s hide like butter. They came after him, they made it quite clear what they could do to him with a simple fly-by. Spike is a child, no different than the foals of Ponyville. Violence would not have made anything better.”

“And Bastion?” Gytha asked. “Is Bastion different from the foals of Ponyville?”

Cheerilee shrugged. “Not really, actually. He pays attention in class, he’s very helpful, very polite. There were a few hints of his conditioning here and there, sure, but most of those have gone away now.”

“Traces, such as?”

“If you grilled him, asked him questions very quickly so he didn’t have time to think, he’d slip into a daze and stop thinking at all. If you asked him something he didn’t know when he was like that, it hurt him. Twilight Sparkle, our librarian, said that it was like an open wound in his consciousness, and it was best to keep it open and clean, if that makes any sense, so it didn’t get infected. I only did that kind of thing two, maybe three times a week, never for longer than five minutes. By week three, he stopped slipping, and now he doesn’t hurt at all when he doesn’t know something.”

Gytha drummed her fingerclaws on the table. “I see. So he thinks for himself now, do you think?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Cheerilee replied. “He has his own likes and dislikes. Twilight Sparkle knows what to look out for in cases like him, and according to her, he’s been getting back to normal, mostly.”

“But not entirely,” Gytha suggested.

“There’s a few small things. Odd things, you wouldn’t notice unless someone told you to look out for them. But even that is nothing compared to some foals, especially the ones with strong magic. He has his issues, and he deals with them, same as any other child.”

Gytha scribbled that down in her notes. “So does he play with them, then? Does he socialise?”

“He’s quite prolific when it comes to contests. He’ll try anything twice, especially games where thinking and strategy are involved,” the Mayor said. “Not much of a theatre pony, but he’s tried his best at it, and he decided against doing it more often.”

“He doesn’t race, either,” Cheerilee added. “Which is odd, since most of the foals he’s close with are fast, and competitive. But again, I suppose that’s a preference, perfectly normal. I never thought to ask why he doesn’t try it at least once.”

Gytha nodded.

You don’t have to guess why. It’s obvious why doesn’t like racing, or theatre.

Cheerilee noticed the griffon’s hesitance, apparently. “Is… is that a bad sign?”

“No, of course not, no. He feeds off of attention, after all. He grows stronger when he’s well-liked, same as any changeling. Him avoiding it is merely a show of self-restraint, and that’s an admirable trait to see in someone like him.”

“I suppose, when you put it like that, it makes sense. Are you an expert in changelings, by any chance? I was told the griffons would be sending one of their specialist squads.”

Gytha’s jaw clenched. Something bunched up in her throat. “I… I do have some experience with changelings, yes. None good, I’m afraid. So, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not share the details on that matter.”

The two sat in one of the many restaurants of Canterlot, in a back corner where no one would overhear them talking. Sapphire Gaze sipped some root beer, smiled, then waved at Starlight. “Now then, your story, please.”

“Like I said, not much to tell. Me and Sunburst grew up together. He was my best friend. He was my only friend. Then he got his cutie mark, and his parents sent him to Canterlot the very same day.” Starlight shrugged. “I never saw him again, I never made another friend.”

“And that’s where your interest in emotion-based magic came from, then, that bad memory?”

“That, and I’ve always been pretty good at it.” She nodded. “Everyone always tells me what a powerful Unicorn I am but, you know, emotional casting isn’t the same as the bookish types, so I try not to flaunt it too much. I don’t want anyone to know I’m a fraud, obviously.”

“Something I can relate to. And beyond that? Your, ah, ‘long-term’ reaction to this event?”

Starlight let her head hang. “I want to get rid of cutie marks. Just, the whole thing, as a concept, I want it gone for every pony’s sake. I want everyone to be equal, so what happened to me doesn’t have to happen to anyone else. And I know how to do it, too, Celestia mentioned it. There’s this one hospital in Alherda, highly specialised, highly restricted, and I… I volunteered. I’d read about the spell they use there for years, studied the theory behind it. Since there aren’t a lot of Unicorns with the stomach for that kind of magic, or who can stand up to the stigma that comes with it, they were more than happy to teach it to me.”

Sapphire took another sip and smiled in sympathy. “And because you used it for the, ah, right thing, so to speak, you were only strengthened in your convictions.”

Starlight nodded. “I’ve ripped cutie marks off little foals plenty of times, usually Unicorns who can’t control their talent: little fire-starters, teleporters who kept hopping off the map, mind-controllers who couldn’t control themselves, that sort of thing. I mean, I had to, that’s what I kept telling myself. They were scared, in pain, and no one could help them. Nothing helped, except taking it all away. I lost my friend to cutie marks, all those foals lost so much to cutie marks. Nothing helps, except taking it all away. So that’s my big plan: taking it all away. No more cutie marks, no more pain. Ever. For anyone.”

“I’ve heard of Alherda. They have a bit of a plague going on there, don’t they? Among the Unicorn colts especially?”

“Yup. It’s, umm, it’s a long story.”

“Oh, no need to mince words, Starlight, I know all about it already, I’ve met some of the officials.” The changeling let out a private growl. “I can’t say I’d show your… restraint in the matter. Did you ever try tackling the problem at its root, so to speak?”

“No, I kept a low profile, and I learned all I could. No, Alherda is for when I have enough power, enough ponies behind me. I’m closer to getting it done than you’d think, you know. The spell’s pretty easy on a technical level: it’s a basic chaos magic trance, and I’m good at it. I can’t make a cutie mark become my own, but I can rip it off and put it away somewhere for safekeeping. I know how conditioning works, I can make ponies see things my way. I’m all set as it is.”

Sapphire Gaze let out a little hum. “Hmm, I suppose then the issue is how to scale it up.”

“Oh, it’s not an issue. I bought a pretty large property in the mountains, one close to a giant crystal big enough to hold as many cutie marks as I want.”

“I see. So, just to make sure I’m understanding it right: you became fixated on the concept of cutie marks as some kind of curse. Your aptitudes in magic most likely heightened that fixation, as well as the experience in the hospital. And on top of all that, you’re making practical arrangements. You’re not just dwelling on the past, you’re making preparations for the future. Would you say you are obsessed?”

Starlight sighed and let her head fall back against the wall. It was soft and padded, appropriately enough. “I don’t know anymore, not after this morning. All my adult life, and most of my childhood, I’ve been holding all this… energy in me and now I’m just deflated all of a sudden. Sunburst, my friend, was here this whole time. I-it finally dawned on me that I could have gone to him, I could have written to him, but I didn’t. Same thing in Alherda: I could have done something, started a campaign there, but I didn’t. I let the problem get worse because I wanted it to. And… I can’t believe it took me this long to notice. I… I did this to myself. And I can’t even figure out if that’s a bad thing or not.”

Sapphire took another long sip of root beer. “Not an unusual situation, though. You identified with your suffering, it became a part of you. As you grew stronger, so did the memory of the suffering. As one creature of emotional magic to another: it’s a predictable outcome, really. Be thankful you snapped out of it in time. Perhaps now the suffering has loosened its hold, you can pick up where you left off. You have land, for starters, that’s a luxury many ponies don’t have.”

“I got it dirt cheap, literally. No one goes there except ski ponies and geologists.”

“Still, it’s something you can build on.”

“And keep going with my plan? Start stealing cutie marks? Make all of Equestria blank flanks?”

The changeling leaned in and let her head rest on her hooves. “Explain to me, what was your reasoning behind that? What was the intent, the pattern of thought, rational or irrational?”

“I lost my friend because he got his cutie mark. Differences tear ponies apart, we froze up our home continent over differences. The holiday we have to commemorate surviving that is pretty much what’s caused all the problems in Alherda. So maybe… maybe go and pull up the root of the problem instead. Maybe it would be better if everyone were equal, no special talents to break up homes. No more families torn apart because one pony has a talent the others don’t, no more villages doomed to fail because no pony has the right talent to fix the problems...”

“No more free will?”

Starlight shrugged and sighed, before sipping her drink. “Maybe. You tell me: am I wrong? You’ve infiltrated pony society, you’ve got an outsider’s view, you’d know.”

“Oh, none of the Council were ever full-fledged infiltrators, not like our drones. But I was in charge of providing false memories for our most of our away parties, so yes, I do know. I know all about instincts and talents and even genetic memories, or stored ones. You used a mountain crystal, you say?”

“Yup. Planning to, I haven’t done it yet. We used glass jars in Alherda.”

“Hmm. Makes me wonder if Chrysalis had her own pile of glassware somewhere secret. But that’s neither here or there. I don’t think you’re entirely right on this. I do understand where you’re coming from, mind you. Truly, I do. It wasn’t easy for us free-minded changelings to live under the Queen, or even to live with each other. Some functions were quite simply held to higher esteem. Envy lurked behind every corner.”

Starlight raised an eyebrow. “But?”

“But, equality is not as ideal as you might think. We changelings, we can adapt. We can become anything we want. Our drones are as close to equal to each other as can be.”

“But your Queen wasn’t, and that was a problem,” Starlight argued. “The source of your problems, even.”

Sapphire sat back and wiggled a hoof at her, eyes narrowed. “Clever thought, but irrelevant to the discussion. The Queen’s power is what made them drones in the first place. It is the status of being a drone that we are discussing. So, simple question: do you think ponies would be better off as drones?”

Starlight winced as she thought back to all those foals, to her own childhood. “Honestly? The sad part is, I think some would. Back in Alherda, I saw little colts scared to death of what they’d turned into. What are you supposed to do about that?”

“Who scared them?”

Starlight sighed. “Grown-ups. Schoolteachers. I mean, you’d know better than me: you’ve met the ones instigating it.”

“But not the results. I can tell you this much: I’m warning every single changeling in Alveola not to go anywhere near that place, and I’ll have it on the books that any Unicorn refugees from that town are welcome with us. Honestly, if that’s what they do to their own, I shudder to think how they’d treat a changeling child. Still, at least they had ponies like you looking after them. I’m assuming, when you did your spell as therapy, you didn’t remove those cutie marks permanently?”

“No, of course not, simple counselling and training is all those foals needed, it’s just that Alherda’s a magic-deprived city, is all. There’s ten Earth ponies and eight Pegasi there for every Unicorn. The Unicorns are shunned, hated, even.”

“Because of Hearth’s Warming Eve?”

“Because of how they like to celebrate it there, yes. But that’s beside the point. You can deal with Unicorns being shunned because they have magic, you can deal with little colts growing up thinking they were born bad because no one wants to teach them the good parts of their past. You can even deal with them being told that all they’re good for is to sacrifice themselves like back in the old days. But you can’t deal with it when no one feels comfortable teaching proper Unicorn magic. The teachers there aren’t trained to deal with magic problems. There’s not a proper wizard there for mi-” She stopped herself. “Okay, I admit, Alherda is probably a symptom of a different problem altogether. But that doesn’t change the big picture. Families get torn apart over differences in talent. Countries get torn apart over differences. Getting a cutie mark is basically like getting branded with magic. Some ponies can’t handle it.”

“True, true, but then we’re talking a numbers game, aren’t we? Tell me, would you have made friends with Sunburst no matter what, do you think? If he hadn’t been a book smart pony, but a jock? A loudmouth? A bore?” She leaned in closer. “An Earth pony?”

“No. Not sure about the last one, but the others, definitely no. We bonded over magic, Unicorn magic. I’m sure if he’d been born an Earth pony, all other things being the same, he’d have been great at their magic. Artifact magic has a fun history, for all pony tribes. You don’t see it that often anymore, either.”

“So you agree: what made him unique is what made him your friend. And yet you somehow managed to convince yourself you should take away that very thing.”

“I guess so.” She groaned and let her head fall on the table. “Oh, I’m a horrible pony, aren’t I?”

“Not yet, you’re not. We’re only talking, you haven’t actually done anything you cannot undo, have you?”

Starlight jerked her head back up, careful not to raise her voice too much despite her rising emotions. “I’ve set up houses. I’ve readied the crystal. For pity’s sake, I’m installing a propaganda room. I have speakers and posters and everything. I’ve learned a fifth-level replication spell just to make copies of my manifesto.”

The changeling scoffed. “You ponies are such curious creatures, always thinking in terms of permanence when it comes to function. A propaganda room with speakers can become a relaxation room with music. You know scroll replication spells? Great, find some writers, perhaps they’ll appreciate a remote location to work in.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“No, to you, it isn’t, I know. You have a set sense of identity, and fear of change to boot. Again, I understand why. To feel your identity change, it’s a terrifying experience.” Sapphire hugged herself, and Starlight swore she cried. “To know how fragile memories really are, to live with the knowledge that all your niceties of today may seem like a different life tomorrow.” She clenched her eyes for a moment, then smiled and sat up like nothing was wrong. “But you can still take charge of your own identity. What and who are you, really? You are a Unicorn with a good grasp of the fundamentals of her craft, and who’s managed to cheat with emotion-fuelled magic. You are a land owner. Once being is clear, doing becomes obvious, or vice versa. Can you tell me what you are, and what you should do?”

Starlight’s stomach groaned. “I think I am hungry, and I can’t do philosophy on an empty stomach, so I think I should eat. Food’s here.”

The Gift of Revelation

Rarity yelped from behind her window when she saw the monster griffon approach. His sheer size would have put a manticore to shame and, as if that wasn’t enough, his plumage and fur was thick. He was mostly white all over with the occasional beige and brown splotches, the sort of pattern Rarity recognised from owl camouflage patterns.

She’d considered using such patterns once. The results were quite ugly.

Opalescence jumped up behind her, far earlier than usual. Opal was usually so punctual about her catnaps and beauty sleep. But Rarity had no time to ponder that matter too far. She quickly opened the door to her boutique and greeted the griffon. “Hello, sir. You must be the inspector. I’m Rarity, welcome to Carousel Boutique.”

The griffon glared at her, and she heard her cat dash off to occupy the best pillow in the room, just in case. “You Element of Harmony?”

“Err, yes, I am the Element of Generosity, as they say. And you are?” Rarity asked.

“Name Garwin. Report for Griffon Youth Protection. Permit enter?”

Rarity took a moment to parse that. It sounded like this fellow had trouble speaking, only not. He didn’t mispronounce any words, he had no distinct quirks about any of his vowels and consonants. It had to be an accent, but it was quite alien to her.

She couldn’t tell where he was from, and for a mare like her, that simply wouldn’t do.

“Yes, of course, come right in. Would you like something to drink? Some tea, perhaps?”

“None now. Ponies drink too much tea. Where sit?”

“Oh, right there is fine, darling.” She pointed to a pile of cushions near her table while she trotted off to fetch a drink for herself. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, Mister Garwin, but you have the most positively strange accent I’ve ever heard. I can’t recall any pony talking the way you do, and I know ponies from far and wide. Where are you from, exactly?”

Garwin cleared his throat. “Hail from North. Yak country. Is not accent: is efficient. Cold and high, spare breath.” He coughed again. “I do apologise for any inconvenience; it is a tough habit to break.”

So he could form a full sentence, he’d simply been taught not to for efficiency’s sake. And probably because it made him sound terrifying when he needed to. “Ah, that explains that. I don’t mind it at all; I’ll have to keep it in mind if I ever run into a yak myself.”

Opal, meanwhile, made a point to sit right behind the griffon, slightly to his left, so Rarity could see. That was very odd indeed, as Opal usually didn’t react to visitors at all, save if they paid her particular attention, which this big fellow did not.

“Thank you. Now, about changeling Bastion. What know?”

Rarity tapped her chin. “Anything specific you were curious for? That article was just full of slander and lies.”

“Doubt very much, Miss Rarity.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose I’ll have to clean up our reputation then.”

“Is slander when spoken. In print is libel.”

Whether that was supposed to be encouraging or frightening, Rarity couldn’t tell. Either way, she certainly didn’t want to ruin anyone’s life.

“Tell general impression first,” Garwin suggested. “Will ask when specifics needed.”

Rarity smiled. “Well, little Bastion is a very polite boy, above all. Always on his best behaviour when there’s an adult around, always ‘Please, thank you, Ma’am.’ He was awfully shy when he first came here, but he’s learned to be quite bombastic now, throwing his voice around when he feels the need.”

Behind Garwin, Opal nodded vigorously.

Now she’s just being downright silly. Why would she care about that little change… oh. Oh, of course he did, silly me. A boy like that isn’t going to take any chances, after all.

“Need being?”

Right. The boy is listening, too, Rarity, make it count.

“Oh, cheering on his friends, calling out plans and instructions when they’re making something, that sort of thing. He’s very kind, very helpful. Never too busy to help my little sister when she’s designing new clothes… though I do wish he were more vocal about the quality she tries to produce.”

The cat shrugged nonchalantly. Garwin still hadn’t noticed anything.

“Has changeling Bastion ever behaved oddly around you?”

Rarity’s ears flicked back. Opal started waving her paws around in a very clear ‘no’ gesture. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Has boy shown signs of repressed anger, trauma, or signs abuse?”

“Did he abuse signs? Oh, you mean signs of abu-no!” She set down her cup of tea in a dramatic fashion, shaking her head most vigorously. “No, never, Lyra and Bon Bon wouldn’t harm a hair on his webby little head.”

“Is not his mothers that concern, Miss Rarity. Mean past trauma.”

Opal, or Bastion, it had to be, stopped the frantic waving, and Rarity took a moment to weigh her words. “Right,” she said with a sigh. “I suppose there’s no dodging that proverbial elephant in the room. To answer your question: no, he did not show any signs of trauma. In fact, I was quite shocked to hear the details of his past. I assumed he was a prince from a different Hive, captured by Chrysalis as a trophy, so to speak, and his living arrangement was merely a way to bypass some legality or other. I didn’t see him acting like a general, certainly. You know, when he arrived, Miss Cheerilee had her class do a little business exercise.”

“Little early for that, nya?”

Rarity chuckled. “To a griffon, I’m sure it would be. But we ponies, we have a few oddities that set us apart from the rest of the world.” She gestured to the diamonds on her thighs. “It’s common for school children to be out and about and trying their hoof at, well, little things they see the adults do. It’s tied to our magic, you see. I myself was making costumes for our school theatre when I was that age, it helped me find my cutie mark. And Bastion’s mothers, I suppose perhaps they timed it, in hindsight, let the boy make friends on his first day and form a team. He didn’t lead his team, though, as I recall, that’s my point. He’s not the controlling sort, not that I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been aware of his goings-on since he arrived here. He offered to do the hard work for the assignment himself, and he let Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon do most of the planning at first. They’re fillies from some of the more well-off families.”

“Pony think he took advantage of them?”

Rarity held back her first answer. “Oh, it sounds awful when you put it like that.”

“But did he? Ka or nya?”

Opal was shaking her head now.

Rarity bit her lip. “I’m sorry, I really don’t want to speak ill of him. He is a nice boy, mind you.”

“Understandable. But still, take advantage of girls, ka or nya?”

Reluctantly, despite Opal’s frantic yet unnoticed waving, the mare nodded. “He… he did, in a way, if I have to be completely honest. Those girls knew their way around money and the market already, both because of their families and because of their cutie mark. But he did not exploit them in any way, let that be on the record. He merely adapted, and any pony in his position would have done the same. Besides, Diamond Tiara’s father was already on speaking terms with some of the other changelings, Bastion had probably heard of that. And like I said, he did the hard work for that assignment, they merely planned it out. He made a point to do his part.”

“What did work entail? In own words?”

“As far as I know, he mixed some fruit juices with heavily diluted honey mead, made sure the proportions were right. You’d have to ask Berry Punch for the details, she lives across the street from them.”

“Colleague will take care of that. Mentioned pony children tend to be out about. Bastion join them?”

For that, Rarity didn’t need a cue from the impostor cat. “Occasionally, yes. He has his own group of friends, much like any other foal his age.”

“And that not cause any trouble? Not get into altercations, no one addresses directly?”

“What do you mean?”

“Boy ever confronted with animosity based on tribe?”

Opal looked away and nodded morosely.

Rarity pretended not to notice. “No, Heavens no. Certainly not in Ponyville. Why would he?”

“Is changeling, in town full of ponies, refuses to change shape to fit in. Pony say no one bothered by that?”

Rarity shrugged. “If they are, they certainly know better than to take it out on him. And he does not refuse to change shape, sir: no one asks him to. At least, not to fit in. It’s magic, after all, and magic is not something you treat so lightly as to leave to the whims of others. Now, to be fair, there are a few more practical applications to his abilities, but he reserves such displays for close friends only. He doesn’t attract any animosity, to my knowledge, at least. No, when my sister is with him, typically he’ll be with the Apple family, and they wouldn’t let any harm come to him. When he’s with Diamond Tiara, well, her family is highly esteemed around these parts, no one’s going to speak up against him if her father might catch wind of it. When he’s in town, around Sugarcube Corner all the store ponies know him well and around the market...”

“Hmm?”

She grimaced, and quickly stopped because that sort of thing could give you wrinkles. “Mmmmarket ponies can be a tad more, shall we say, coarse in their dealings, as a rule. He may have had to endure some words from them. But Bastion has nothing to fear there, either, as long as Mister Bumbles is around.”

“Bumbles?”

“The honey seller,” Rarity replied. “He gave Bastion the queen for his pet beehive. I don’t think he’d stand idly by if anything happened. Then there’s Burnt Oak, the firewood seller. A little older, but I’ve seen Apple Bloom and Bastion tag along with him when he goes logging. No idea why, though. But Burnt Oak is a stallion of principle, and from what I hear, Bastion holds the value of honour in high regard. He’s quite eager to please his male role models, now that I think of it. Mares and fillies, he’ll be nice to them, but stallions? He tries to earn respect there, and Burnt Oak is a fine example. Nopony would dare speak ill of such a boy where such a stallion would hear it.”

Opal nodded again, and made a gesture that Rarity figured was the equivalent of a thumbs-up.

“Final question: what are changeling Bastion’s combat abilities? Ever see use?”

“I’m sorry?”

Garwin cleared his throat, and glared at Rarity. “Has the boy ever used any of his combat abilities, for practical reasons? Blast of green, goop shot, meteor rush?”

Rarity pondered that for a moment, before replying, “Umm, no, I don’t think so. Well, I suppose there was that incident two weeks ago, but-”

Opalescence was making wild gestures at Rarity not to continue down that line. Garwin didn’t notice.

“One time is enough. Please, give example.”

“Well… we were having our Summer Harvest celebration, and one of the floats malfunctioned. The brakes malfunctioned, I should say. Bastion flew right in front of it, but then he did… nothing. He stared at it and then ducked out of the way.”

Garwin’s eyes narrowed. “So, changeling froze first? Not split-second response?”

“No,” Rarity replied. “Not anymore, it’s strange. One of his friends, Scootaloo, she has near-perfect reflexes. Anything happens, she’s on it before you can blink. Same with Rainbow Dash, or any of the first responders on Weather Patrol. I’ve seen Bastion play with the Pegasi once or twice, he’s gotten slower, especially recently. I’m not entirely sure why, but I suspect it’s a good thing?”

“How figure?”

“Well, I can only speak as a fashion pony, but in my experience ponies who pick out something quickly are only following trends, something someone else told them is pretty. The ones who know what looks pretty on them, they analyse first and they think for themselves, form their own opinion. Bastion, I suspect, was told to think a lot of things at first. He was meant to be a mere idea factory: input some thoughts and out comes a strategy. That’s how Twilight explained it to me, at least.”

Garwin nodded.

“At any rate, he didn’t freeze for so long he didn’t move out of the way, and I’m sure most ponies without training would have frozen much worse in that situation. He does still have the same attack patterns as any changeling, you can see it when he’s playing sports occasionally, but I don’t think that’s something to worry about, either. Any odd Unicorn can do much worse than him, and I have seen him use his green… ‘goop’ or whatever you want to call it, in arts and crafts projects. He uses what he knows constructively, and responsibly. He may not be a general, but he sets a good example, and he knows it.”

“Everything covered. Thank you.”

“Is that all?”

“Ka,” Garwin replied curtly. “Mission only to check danger town to changeling. Changeling to town is colleague business.”

“Oh. Yes, I suppose you would have to check both. He’s not in trouble, though, is he?”

“Pony know better than me. Gaenorga will know full answer. Gaenorga… special, attuned to children of all kinds.”

Gaenorga? The name sent shivers down Rarity’s spine. Sounds like some kind of horrid mean queen of trolls. “Sounds like a delightful individual, then. Well, I shan’t keep you from your duties. What’s your next stop?”

“Sugarcube Corner.”

“Ah, well, the fastest way there is-”

“Can fly,” he interrupted. “Will look for frosting-covered roof. Thank you.”

“Right.”

“Good day, Miss Rarity. Pony duty fulfilled admirably.”

With that, he turned his back on her and strode off like he were marching on a fortress with an army in tow. Although, judging from his size, he might not need an army in the first place.

Rarity closed her door with her magic and waited a good two minutes before raising her voice.

“What were you thinking, Bastion? He might have noticed you.”

With a flash of green, the boy dropped his disguise. “I had to make sure. There’s no telling what they’re thinking.”

She rolled her eyes. “Really, darling, you have so little faith in me?”

He winced, hard, and Rarity immediately regretted her words. “No. It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s… it’s them I don’t trust. For all you know, they were brainwashed by Chrysalis, too.”

Bastion was a terrible liar, especially around adults. “You mean you don’t trust yourself anymore?”

He snorted, but the sound came out of the back of his neck. “I just want to stay. I’m sorry I eavesdropped on you, Miss Rarity. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think I had to.”

“I understand. I’m not sure I wouldn’t have done the same if I were in your stead. Where are you going next? Catch up to Mister Garwin at Sugarcube Corner?”

“I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure I’d get found out too quickly.”

“Yes, Garwin might suspect if he saw you getting too active as Gummy.”

“No, I mean I can’t fool Miss Pinkie Pie for some reason,” Bastion said. “She always giggles when I come in as something else. And she’d let everypony know if she spotted me.”

“Ah. She would, that. Then what are you going to do?”

He sat down, and his body slumped. Even his membranous wings, normally stiff and strong, started to bend like wilting leaves. “I don’t know. I had my magic set up at Fluttershy’s, and Twilight’s.”

“So why not use magic here, too?”

“I have to enchant something for that to work, and there’s no place to put anything where it wouldn’t stick out in this décor. Sweetie Belle tried.”

“Of course she did.” Rarity smiled and sat next to him, hoping whatever emotional energy she was giving off might help somehow. “And what is your magic telling you? Was there any reason to worry?”

“Yes,” he hissed, before shaking his head. “At first. But not now. Now, I…”

“You don’t have a plan for what happens now, so you don’t know what to do.”

“Yes, I do. Garwin will be done in forty-five minutes, that’s how long Pinkie Pie will take him.”

“I don’t think she’s that talkative.”

“But she’ll drag other ponies into talking with him. Burnt Oak and Mister Bumbles will be will be in range for her.”

“That’s one way of phrasing it, I suppose. But you still don’t have a plan for now. And you look tired. Have you been panicking all day? Checking your things every five seconds for an update?”

“No.” He waved his head around in a mix of shaking and nodding. “Maybe. A little.”

“Hmm, anticipation can be quite exhausting, especially when you’re little. Lie down, then, and I’ll fix you some hot chocolate.”

“You don’t have to, Miss Rarity.”

“Yes, I do. Believe me, I’ve seen Rainbow Dash right before a new Daring Do release, and Bon Bon would never forgive me if I let you out in a state like that. I’d never hear the end of it.” She shuddered. “Besides, Canterlot’s fashion season just started, and I could use some help for the colt couture. Unless you do think you should urgently fly across Ponyville again?”

“No, Miss.” He smiled, weakly but curiously. His eyes lit up again, and Rarity realised she hadn’t seen that in a few weeks. “I do kind of want to see what the models look like this season.”

“Hot chocolate it is.”

Rarity smiled to herself as she went to the kitchen. Too easy, that boy. Make him feel useful, make him feel needed, and he can’t pry himself away.

She felt an odd pang in her chest, thinking that.

And that’s likely going to get him in big trouble some day.

Starlight wiped her muzzle with a napkin once her meal was finished. “So what would you do, in my place?”

Sapphire looked away wistfully. “I’m not entirely sure I’d have made better choices than you. And to be perfectly frank, what is there to do for you, really? You’ve spent your whole life working towards a revenge scheme that’s suddenly out the window. Unless you do wish to continue with your equality goal.”

“Would you stop me if I did?”

“I think others would.”

“But would you?”

“It’s not my place to interfere in pony affairs, Starlight. They’ve been very kind to me and my kin, and given what we’ve suffered under Chrysalis, what she might have planned for us,” Sapphire said, her hooves shaking for a moment. “What she did to some of us, I wouldn’t want to see repeated in pony lands.”

“So you would stop me.”

“I already am, aren’t I? We’re talking. You’ve changed your mind on some things, you’ve given me material to ponder over. But thought is one thing, the action is still uncertain.”

“Then the answer is no. I don’t think I want to continue. I mean, I still don’t think I’m wrong, but maybe I can go about it differently, more efficiently. I can still do it, but maybe not the way I planned.”

“Hmm. Perhaps. You could ask Sunburst for a second opinion.”

“No, that’s a bad idea, at least right now. I think I need to rest and let this all sink in. Besides, I’m going to have to lay low while Chrysalis is on the loose.”

“Smart thinking. And you won’t take the chance to talk to him today? At all?”

“After today...” Starlight chuckled and wiped the hint of tears from her eyes. “No. I’m just glad I got to say ‘Hello.’ I know where he is now. I know I can find him, if I need to. But it wouldn’t be fair to go to him now, not like this. I need to try and get myself straight first, I can’t lean on him like a crutch anymore.”

“I hope you manage to. Thank you for sharing, Starlight, this was interesting. You said your village was, where?”

“Near the Rockies.” Starlight’s eyes narrowed. “Hold on. How do I know you’re not Chrysalis in disguise?”

Sapphire nodded towards the castle. “The silencer field we were in was of the Iratus variety. If I’d tried to enter in the wrong shape-”

“Your heart would have stopped. Of course, both hearts would have. I knew I recognised that smell from somewhere.”

“It’s alright. Caution is a virtue, and I’ll not begrudge a friend that.”

Starlight’s ears perked.

“Sorry, does that word upset you? ‘Friend?’ Do you prefer I call you an ‘ally?’” Sapphire asked.

“No, no, it’s...” Starlight chuckled. “Unexpected, is all. Today has been a very surprising day.”

“Well, I’m almost due to teleport back to Alveola.”

“That far?”

“You are not the only one who can use emotional energy as a magical steroid, Starlight.” Sapphire winked and raised her glass. “Here’s to surprises.”

Starlight Glimmer grabbed her glass and smiled. “To surprises. May they always be for the better.”

“Hear, hear.”

Gaenorga kept up her smile as best she could. “So, just to recap: no unusual nightmares, then, no strange looks in his eyes, no unexplained twitches?”

“No,” Bon Bon replied. “He hasn’t had any of those, aside from the nightmares you’d expect when he just got here. Nothing except the little bit of awkwardness the past couple of weeks.”

“I’ve tried cheering him up with music, but it only helps for a bit,” Lyra added. “Was that good or bad?”

“Oh, quite good,” Gaenorga replied. “Bard magic can be highly effective in these cases. But, I have to ask: can your son… I don’t want to presume, but can he defend himself against your magic? In the event someone managed to copy your spell, overheard the tune, I mean?”

“Yes,” Lyra said with a firm nod. “He doesn’t make music on his own, but he can fight it if he wants to. We’ve practised, it helps his concentration, you know? Keep focused, that kind of thing.”

Gaenorga nodded, but didn’t write that down. “Good. Well, with that cleared up, I think all that’s left is to talk to the boy of the hour.”

“I’m here.”

Gaenorga froze. I didn’t hear him come in. I didn’t notice the smell. My armband didn’t even go off.

She looked at him, and he tilted his head, curious. No doubt he’d tasted the wave of shock coming off of her. “My, my, you are a stealthy little ninja, aren’t you? I didn’t notice you come in.”

One of his hooves went off the floor in the reflex, as if he wanted to back away. “I’m not a ninja, Miss. I only heard of them, I didn’t get that many lessons in it.”

“Then you must have a talent for it, I suppose. My name is Gaenorga, and I can only assume you are the Pristine Bastion I’ve heard so much about?”

“That’s me, Miss.” His hoof went back down, his wings fluttered. “What do you want to do?”

“I’ve just got done interviewing your mothers, I found no cause for concern from them, I only need to talk to you for a little bit. In private, you understand.”

Bon Bon and Lyra nodded, and Bastion went up the stairs to lead the griffon to his room.

It was a nice enough room: bed near the windows, large closets, some stuffed animals nearby. It looked neat and tidy, and judging from what she’d heard, Gaenorga could only assume this was its natural state, and not the result of extra efforts to make things look cleaner than usual.

He hopped onto his bed, sat upright, and motioned for Gaenorga to do the same. A big giraffe plush kept its eyes on her notes, it seemed, but she didn’t bother adjusting it.

“Okay,” she started. “Let’s begin with something simple. Tell me about your time in the Hive. What kind of training did you get?”

He shrugged. “Mostly how to do things quickly. I did the same drills as the other drones at first, except not with them, but alone. That was kind of like going to school, umm, in the time it took day to day.”

“And did that training involve being subjected to any spells?”

“Chrysalis doesn’t use magic on her advisors, so no. It’s too easy to hijack; it leaves an opening.”

That was not true, she knew, but he clearly believed it, and she had no reason to convince him otherwise at this point. Gaenorga motioned for him to continue. “An opening for… what, other changelings?”

“Yes. Other Kings and Queens. Or bad creatures. We had to be able to think for ourselves, we were in charge of evolving. That’s what she said, at least.”

“And your uncle was in charge of evolving combat capacities.”

“Yes.” Bastion nodded.

“So what can you do?”

Bastion gulped. “I, umm, I have some of my uncle’s… it’s hard to explain. I have his essence, and that means part of me isn’t me, but him.”

There was that odd genetic memory the naga were so perturbed by. “You mean like a family bond? That’s simple blood and genes, it doesn’t say anything about your abilities.”

“It does, actually, at least for changelings. See, ponies, they have this thing, and it’s obvious what it does.” He gestured to his thighs. “They call it a talent, but it’s not really a talent.”

Gaenorga took note. He was aware of its existence, obviously, so it was less likely for any impulses to sneak up on him. That was a good sign. She kept her poker face up, just in case. “You mean cutie marks.”

“No. Cutie marks are only how it’s shown. I’m talking about what’s underneath, what gives them their cutie marks. Nagas have it. Pandas have it, griffons have it, but they don’t get cutie marks. I can’t remember the word for it, Sapphire tried to explain it once. I think she said it was a car, or something.”

“Karma, you mean?”

“Yeah, that. Like, if you could take memories and experience and bottle them.” He gulped at the word ‘bottle.’ In fact, he froze for a moment at that word. He didn’t stay that way long enough for her to remark on it, though. “Our magic, the way we feed, we always get some pieces from the thing we’re feeding off of. Usually it’s not much, barely enough to notice, but when it’s between changelings, when we share the same blood… we can kind of share cutie marks, even though we don’t get cutie marks in the first place. I can’t do everything my uncle could. He was one of the most powerful changelings ever, even Chrysalis was impressed.” He let his head hang. “But he cared about me, a lot. And he taught me, so I could think like him. I can fix things. I can fix things the way he could fix things.”

“But no offensive spells? No advanced magic?”

He shrugged. “Nothing the others of the Council wouldn’t know. Nothing important.”

“Bastion, I need you to be honest with me.”

“You first, Ma’am.”

She blinked in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“Your letter said you’d be ascertaining whether my personal security in Ponyville was at risk. Yet your focus is on my capabilities, the risk I pose to Ponyville. So either your report was deceptive in nature, or you are attempting to extract information. And you’ll understand, of course, if I am reluctant to relinquish such intel when presented with such obvious duplicity.”

She chuckled. “Someone gave you a dictionary for your birthday, huh?”

He smiled. “Sweetie Belle did. And it was a thesaurus. My uncle liked using big words, when he wanted to be funny. Or when he wanted to be intimidating. And you’re stalling. Are you testing me or are you here for something else?”

Best to get this over with quickly, then. “Let’s say for a moment that I am testing you. And let’s also say that, rather than take the chance, the naga officials decided to send me to retrieve you right now. For the sake of argument, let’s say you’re about to be teleported into prison. How would you respond?”

Again, he shrugged. “Sounds fun.”

“Fun?”

“Yes, fun. Enjoyable, quaint.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“If you really want to teleport me away from here, first you’re going to have to catch me. That means getting a hold on me before I fly out the window.”

“I’m pretty fast, little boy.”

“Maybe. But I have three exit points I can use. You’ve only got vision of the window behind me. And besides that, you’re sitting on my bed. I have traps ready to spring up at a moment’s notice. That stuffed giraffe behind you? I put some of my goop in there. One wrong move and you get glued to the floor.”

She chuckled again. “That’s good. That’s very good, I’m impressed, really. You’re very well-trained.”

“Thank you.”

“In bluffing, that is. There’s no liquids in that giraffe.” She tapped her beak. “I learned a bit of vulture magic, you see, way back when. My senses are attuned to that sort of thing. You don’t have any traps here besides the little vines at the windows. Anti-burglary traps, I would assume, standard pony fare installed by your mothers, not meant to keep anything in.”

“What makes you think I can’t mask a scent?”

She shivered. He did manage to sneak up on her once already. “Suppose I did catch you, and teleport you away from here.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“No, but you’d still prepare for it,” Gaenorga reasoned. “A boy like you doesn’t take chances. A boy like you covers all the angles. So I’m asking: how would you react?”

“Nothing.”

“Really, now? No defence at all?”

“Not from me, no. I’d just hit you really hard, maybe use magic.”

“You’d still be in enemy territory.”

“Not for long. My magic mom’s friends with Twilight Sparkle. She picked up a few tricks recently, in the Crystal Empire. Even if you manage to pull me away, my Unicorn mom can pull me back. And you wouldn’t get the chance to try again.”

In hindsight, she probably should have asked Twilight about that. “And if we’ve warded to guard against other teleporters?”

“I’m a changeling. Getting in and out of places is in my nature, even if I was never an infiltrator.” He took a deep breath and stared into her eyes. “Can I ask you a question now? Honestly?”

“Sure.”

“What are you testing me for, really? Do you think I’m dangerous?”

Gaenorga’s wings bunched up against her sides. She closed her eyes, thinking it over for a moment before replying. “No, I know you’re dangerous, at least to some small extent. But given the company you keep, that’s not much of an issue. I’d be more worried if you were harmless in this kind of environment. As for the tests, while our reports did say a few things about your mental faculties, given the latest stories we thought it prudent to confirm the findings up close.”

“So you want to know how I act under stress.”

“Yes. You seem stressed now.”

“I am.”

“As stressed as you were when you had that fight with Apple Bloom?”

His gaze hardened, his tone became colder. “That is beyond the purview of your investigation, Madam.”

He went back to his thesaurus talk, clearly this was a sore spot. “Is it? You were faced with stress, you lashed out. Sounds straightforward to me.”

“If you’re trying to get me to snap, it won’t work. Apple Bloom doesn’t stress me out. She didn’t stress me. She’s… different. And what happened wasn’t her fault, or mine. It was an accident, and a misunderstanding. And it doesn’t concern you.”

“Bastion, I realise this is painful, but you have to understand this is the sort of question that can cost you. So I’ll ask again: are you as stressed now as you were then?”

“No. Like I said, that wasn’t stress. That was confusion. There was a lot going on, a lot I had to figure out and a lot of things ponies told me.”

“About?”

He clenched his jaw and glared at her, but eventually he’d weighed the pros and cons of his possible responses, and he cracked. “About how my senses… how I really work.” He shrugged. “I’d never gone infiltrating before, so I never learned how to act around other creatures. I never learned exactly what they thought about changelings, either, just how they felt about us.”

“So, what, you were confused about your empathy?”

That got a smug smile out of him. “You’re the one who’s confused, Miss: we don’t have empathy, not the way you think we do. I don’t get why ponies think we do, either. We can’t detect emotions from afar, we can only taste it. But tasting it means absorbing it, and that’s not always safe. I was getting some mixed messages from ponies, and I didn’t know how to deal with that. So my, umm, my conditioning took over. But you knew that already, of course. You just wanted to see how upset I’d be about admitting it.”

“You are a smart one. And that is the last of me testing you, don’t worry.”

“Did I pass?”

“Tell me about your friends first. Apple Bloom sounds like somepony important to you, if you’re willing to defend her so eagerly. Any particular reason?”

He pouted, again weighing his words carefully. “Everypony wanted to be nice, and they assumed that was fair. Apple Bloom wanted to be fair, because she knew that was nice. I… she’s my normal. She’s what I’d turn into if I could, if I could be anything. Just, you know, a boy, obviously. I mean, I’d turn into a boy, she’s not a boy.”

He was getting flustered. Hard to believe that was even possible for a boy like him. “Obviously.”

“Anyway, she’s not my only friend. There’s Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, Rumble, Diamond Tiara, Silver Spoon...”

“Can you tell me anything about them? Anything specific?”

“You want to know if I keep track of what my friends like and dislike.”

“Yes.”

“Well… Scootaloo and Rumble are helping me out with flying lessons, more advanced stuff. Part of why I got confused was them: I thought Scootaloo might have a crush on Rumble, but I asked and she said she definitely didn’t. I didn’t realise, so I’m guessing I just mistook the taste of admiration or friendship for a crush. Like I said, I don’t know what all the love tastes like.”

There’s the confusion. Not too unusual, friendship and young love probably would feel very similar to him in terms of taste, even if they don’t provide the same sustenance.

“Scootaloo has trouble flying, but Rumble’s been helping her, and I’ve done little draining here and there, with a grown-up there to control it,” he added quickly. “Twilight Sparkle said it was like leech therapy, to help break down magic blockages. Twilight said it was either that or actual magic leeches, and Scootaloo didn’t like the idea of slimy leeches on her.”

“Does it help?”

He smiled proudly. “She can hover over the ground now, that’s a lot better than before. But the doctors said she won’t fly higher than a house until at least ten more years. Something about her wings not growing at the same time as the rest of her, I don’t know what exactly.”

“What about you?”

“I’m staying low, too, so she doesn’t have to feel bad. Same with cutie marks: I promised I’d be the last one in class to get one.”

“I thought you said you don’t get cutie marks?”

“I can fake one. And if I’m last, nopony has to feel bad about it.”

An odd sentiment, but a natural one, considering his position. “Okay, fine. Who else?”

“There’s Sweetie Belle, she knows all about pretty things, like fashion and how to act in some places. Her sister’s a dressmaker, Sweetie Belle’s more of a singer. But she doesn’t like singing in front of judges, so she only sings around her friends. She helps me out with finding clothes that fit my colour and, you know, my body type, since my shell isn’t exactly like a pony’s hide. I help her out when she wants to do a play and she needs more background characters. Since I can change shape and all, it’s convenient for her.”

Gaenorga scribbled down something. Bastion kept his eyes on that paper.

“And the other boys? Featherweight, was it?” she asked.

“I don’t talk that much to Featherweight, but he’s nice, too. Mostly he only asks me when he needs wildlife pictures. Most animals don’t notice a disguised changeling with a camera on his neck.”

“Uh huh. What about the adults? Anyone you can ask for advice, besides your mothers?”

“My friends don’t mind asking their family when I need advice. Sweetie Belle’s sister gives me a second opinion when she’s designing things for me. Come to think of it, usually it’s Rarity doing the actual designing, Sweetie Belle never seems to get anything past the first draft.”

Gaenorga flipped a page in her notebook to continue. “What about male role models? Who do you ask about boy things, or stallion things?”

“There’s Rumble’s brother, Thunderlane. Everyone likes him, and he’s practically a Wonderbolt. Then there’s Apple Bloom’s brother, Big Mac. He’s super strong, and he doesn’t speak much, but he says a lot, if that makes sense.”

Again, the griffon took note.

“But my moms know other stallions, too. I can ask whoever I want, that’s what they said. And I can ask my godfather.”

Gaenorga squinted, thinking. “You have a godfather, too? I didn’t see that anywhere.”

“It’s kind of a secret. He’s a Wonderbolt. My moms, they… they wanted to get a pony child a while back, and he offered to be the dad, I think. I’m not sure how that’s supposed to work, though.”

Not informed on all the facts of life yet, then, which again made sense given he had other, more urgent concerns to catch up on. “Right. I think that tells me everything I need to know about the company you keep. So how about we move to the most important part, then.”

“I’ve told you all the important stuff.”

“Not all of it. Tell me about your uncle’s... cutie mark, his talents.”

“What I got from him?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not sure if I got that much besides how I plan and think.” The boy shook his head and pouted. “There is one thing, though, I don’t really know what it is. I think it’s a piece of something. Sometimes, in my dreams, I’m flying, but I’m not me.”

“You shapeshift in your dreams?”

“Sort of. I mean my dream me is a different shape, but I’m not.”

Gaenorga tilted her head. “Dream shapeshifting can mean a lot of things. What do you turn into, then?”

“That’s the weird part: I turn into a lot of things, little things. Into a swarm of beetles. They’re all me, but they’re all different bodies. I fly around, I land on an orchard full of fruit. I can smell it, sweet apples all over. And then I eat, and everything dies. I’m sad then, because I killed everything. I feel hungry, and one by one, the swarm that’s me starts fading. Then I wake up.”

“Wow. That’s quite the nightmare.”

“Not really. That’s the other weird part: once I wake up, it feels normal.” He made himself small with shame. “I… I don’t like how it feels normal. I should feel scared when that happens, but I don’t. Every time I think about it, it feels like it’s him. I know that’s not me.”

She scribbled that down in her notes, thinking. “Tell me more about this swarm form, this dream. Is it consistent, is it a scenario that always plays out the same way?”

He nodded. “Exactly the same. That’s bad, isn’t it? Means someone could use it if they stole it.”

“Possibly. But on the upside: it means you could use it, too.”

“Why would I want to?”

“For whatever reason your uncle did, I suppose. You’re sure you got that from him?”

“Positive. It’s got his shape. Or not his shape, his smell. I know it’s his magic, but I can use it, and I use it to kill things in my dreams. What do you think it means?”

“In my experience? A dream like that, a regression of that sort, doesn’t mean much of anything, not in a practical sense. Most creatures of magic have their recurring nightmares, typical to their species. We griffons, for example, have nightmares about aurification. That’s-”

“Being turned into a gold statue.”

“Exactly. Ponies are known for having so-called collar dreams at times: they feel an enslaving presence around their neck and have an instinctual fear for it. Even naga have nightmares about giant eagles. These things don’t come from anywhere real in particular, but they’re an old memory, an instinct manifest, an atavism, if you want to look up the exact term. Since changelings have a lot of magic tied to hunger, and divined their magic based on insects, I’d wager it’s not unique to you but something your uncle held on to and passed on, probably by accident. It’s not an inherently bad thing, that kind of dream. It can help you discover new means of magic, I’m sure Twilight Sparkle is competent enough to help you out with that.”

“Okay, that’s good to know. Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome. What about your mother? Your birth mother, I mean. Do you remember getting anything from her the same way?”

She heard his stomach churn at the mention.

His lips quivered, and he looked away. “She… she loved me. A lot. She hugged me, kept me warm.”

“Even as a drone?”

“She wasn’t a regular drone; she was Faux Pas’s sister. She was important. She loved me, for real.” He tensed up. “She took care of me whenever I got hurt in training. You know, the extra stuff. She always helped me through it. When it got rough, I mean.”

Gaenorga nodded. “Rough meaning stiff joints, starvation, exposure to the elements, that sort of thing?”

“Uhuh. My mom always gave me good love to feed on, when I went back to her. Then Chrysalis sent her on a mission. She got new sons, a new family. She forgot about me. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

It didn’t take a genius to see the emotion welling up in him. “You miss her a lot, don’t you?”

He nodded. “I, umm, with this whole thing happening… I can’t remember what she was really like. I try to think of her, and all I see is the drones Chrysalis got to replace her. But drones are all the same. She wasn’t like them. I wasn’t like them. I’m me, but part of me was her. I just wish I could remember what part, so I’d know what part was all me, you know?”

“Is there any memory that stands out, regarding your mother?”

“No. Just one weird thing. It’s not a nightmare, I don’t think, but sometimes, lately, I dream of what happened when I heard they’d lost her. I don’t feel scared or sad when it happens, just… nothing. And I think it’s just something that started from me doing that school project anyway.”

Gaenorga tilted her head at that. “Why would you assume that?”

“When I think about that, when I dream about her and the drones that replaced her, I always hear the sound of glass. You know, bottles moving around. I don't know why, it's kind of weird and random. We didn’t have any glass at the Hive, so it has to be my imagination, right?”

Gaenorga drew a circle around the word 'glass.'“Of course. That could have come from anywhere, really, dream symbolism has a lot of strangeness to it by default. You don’t have to say any more on that subject if you don’t want to, Bastion. I know that kind of emotional wound can be painful, especially given the nature of your magic.”

“But that’s just it, isn’t it? You know. I don’t. You know I haven’t been feeling well.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. Everyone’s noticed by now. Everypony around must have mentioned it. But you haven’t asked me anything about that. You’ve been dodging it, when it should have been the first thing you ask. You know what’s wrong, don’t you?”

“Did you overhear anything from eavesdropping on me and my colleagues?”

He went quiet and folded his wings. “M-maybe.”

“Rest assured, you’re not in trouble for that,” she added. “I may have some answers as to what and why you’ve been feeling the way you have, but I need to know how you’ve been experiencing it first. Do you think you can put it into words for me?”

“If I tell you, and it turns out to be something bad, will you try to take me away?”

“Only if I have to. But I highly doubt that.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you think is wrong with me, and I’ll say if it’s true or not?”

Gaenorga sighed. “Try to understand: you are, like ponies, a creature of magic. What you want to see and what you actually see are connected. If I start putting ideas into your head about what’s wrong, it might make things worse. Do you understand that?”

Reluctantly, he nodded. “Okay. It’s… it’s like there’s nothing in me anymore. Like I’m empty inside, nothing but nightmares and thoughts that aren’t mine. I have parts of my uncle, parts of my mom and dad, but nothing that’s me. I try to do things I like, but I don’t like them anymore. I try to remember things I’ve done, things I’ve learned, but I don’t remember learning those things. Do I have amnesia?”

She shook her head. “No. No, that sounds like something much more benign, and easier to treat. What you’re experiencing is called dissociation: it’s when you remember doing things as if it was someone else doing it, as if someone else was in your body, pulling the strings. It’s a scary thing to feel, obviously, because you can’t always tell if there really is something pulling your strings.”

“Like my mom. Her strings got stuck. Will it go away? The feeling, I mean?”

“Yes, and I can promise that without reservation. You clearly have a mind of your own, as battered and abused as it may have been in your formative years. Dissociation is simply one of the ways mortal minds cope with this kind of thing, it’s like a… like a painkiller for certain parts of your mind. It could be you healing from the trauma of losing your mother, or your uncle, or the shock of moving here finally caught up to you. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, it can be handled, and handled well. You’re not the first child to be put through this kind of ordeal, and you won’t be the first to recover. Things will feel strange at first, you may have to re-learn a few skills, social skills especially, but in time it goes away.”

He narrowed his eyes when he realised she’d seen cases like him before. “Is it like what happened to my mom? My birth mom?”

“I’m afraid not. She was, as far as we know, blanked with magic. If her mind is so far gone that she can’t recall her own species, there’s not much that can be done, especially if we don’t even know who she is or where she ended up. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. I’m…” he wiped his eyes. “I’m okay with that. She’s happy with the griffons. I’m happy with ponies. That’s fair. She loved me, she deserves to be happy, too. I just… I like this. I like my new moms. They love me like she did. They care for me like she did. It’s just as real as she was. I’ll be good, I promise, I don’t want this taken away, please.”

“No one is taking you away, Bastion, and I’m sorry you had to worry about that. Sometimes these cases don’t end well. Yours did. And with everything said and done, we can submit our report, set the record straight, and you can keep on living in Equestria as you choose.”

She got up, cocked her head towards the door, and he went to open it for her. Lyra and Bon Bon were already waiting for her.

“The snakes don’t have a leg to stand on,” Gaenorga said. “There’s zero signs of anything they were concerned about, nothing that can’t be explained as something perfectly normal.”

The mares breathed a sigh of relief.

“Again, sorry to inconvenience you like this,” Gaenorga said as she walked out the door. “But protocol must be followed. I’ve already informed Twilight Sparkle of some of the precautions you’ll want to take soon, she can explain them to you better than I can. All that’s left is to finish up our reports and you won’t have to worry about any of this nastiness again.”

“Thank you,” Lyra said.

Twilight Sparkle came trotting by to meet the griffons. “Hello. Everything’s in order?”

Gaenorga nodded. “All is in order, I only need to wrap things up. Here come my associates now. Garwin, Geirolf, are you two done?”

“We’re near-I said we’re nearly done here, Gaenorga,” said Geirolf. “We’ve just had some trouble locating the local elected official of these here premises. Mayor, that is.”

“Hmm, teacher miss appointment, too,” Garwin added.

Twilight raised an eyebrow at that. “That doesn’t sound like them. I told them specifically where and when they were expected to be. There they are now.”

“Hello, everyone,” the mayor said, heading towards the building crowd of ponies and griffons with Cheerilee by her side. “Is everything taken care of?”

“We still need to take your testimony, Ma’am,” Geirolf said.

“Really? But I was just talking to one of your colleagues earlier,” Cheerilee replied. “The griffon girl, we talked nearly all afternoon.”

Bastion’s wings buzzed ominously. “You mean you talked to Gaenorga?”

“No, no, a smaller, paler griffon. Female, though.”

“There were only three griffons coming to Ponyville today,” Bastion said. “They all arrived together.”

“You were spying on us then, too?” Gaenorga said.

His ears fell back. “Sorry, Miss. But, if she’s not with you, then…”

Gaenorga growled. “Probably another one of those thrice-damned gossip columnists. Come on, boys, we need to catch her before she causes any more damage.”

“Umm, excuse me?”

Bastion froze when he saw the fourth griffon. He took a step back on instinct, and his jaw locked when she spoke to him.

“Hello, Bastion,” Gytha said. “I think we need to have a little talk.”

He shivered. His wings buzzed under his carapace, his eyes locked on the griffon even as they started to water up.

“Mom?”

Author's Note

This one was a drag to write, because it had to combine two major elements: the two big dreams and their influence. Both the swarm dream and the glass being tied to the memory of his mother are plot-relevant. The swarm dream should be obvious, the latter is sort of a reference to Grant Morrisson's work 'The Filth'. So, those two people who've read it: you know where this is going.

The repeated insistence that there is no glass in the changeling Hive is a late addition, and again kind of important for later.

The Gift That Stopped Giving

Gaenorga grunted and stepped between the griffon and Bastion. “You’re his birth mother?”

“Yes. My name is Gytha.”

“Prove it.”

“I’m the older sister of the War Engineer Faux Pas. I was given a planted personality to infiltrate the griffons. It got stuck, obviously. My memory has only been coming back in little bits, but… I’m the one you’ve been looking for.”

“Anyone would know that story,” Gaenorga said.

“Bastion’s favorite flower is a dandelion,” Gytha added. “A flowering one, not when it’s covered in seeds. He likes bees a lot, too.”

“Again, anyone would know that.”

“Bastion’s training mainly revolved around obedience, with only minimal attention to combat or strategy skills, comparatively.” Gytha closed her eyes. “Once, shortly after my brother had chosen him as a successor, Chrysalis made him take a test of obedience, one of many. She told him to sit in a corner and stay, and not move for any reason. He ended up sitting in his own filth after nearly a whole day and night, with his joints locked in position.”

“That’s something any drone of hers might know.”

“Stop,” Bastion said, shaking his head. “It’s her. I know it’s her.”

“We can’t be sure.”

“I can. Bloodlines talk. I remember her. She’s my birth mom. Or she used to be, before she forgot.”

Gytha winced. “Please, I’m only here to do what’s right.”

He growled. “No! You can’t be here! You’re not supposed to be here! You left me, you’re gonna ruin everything! I can’t...”

“I’m not here to ruin anything,” she said, holding up a claw. “I’m not taking you away, I have no intention to. I’ve been talking to the mayor here and your teacher, and some of the local ponies. You’re quite a popular boy, you know.”

“Maybe we should get going,” the Mayor said. “This isn’t any of our business, really.”

“I agree,” Twilight added. “This is a private matter.”

“No,” Gytha interrupted. “No, I want witnesses for what I have to say to my son.”

“I’m not your son,” he hissed, before wiping his eyes. He wasn’t crying yet, not quite. “You left me, you forgot about me.”

Gytha closed her eyes and drew in a sharp breath. “Can we discuss this indoors, please?”

Gaenorga grumbled. “For his sake, I’ll allow it. But make no mistake, we will step in if you try anything.”

Gytha waved the threat away. “I just want to talk.”

Sunburst trotted out of the auction with a smug look of satisfaction and a fairly heavy load of antiques, not the least of which was the authentic healer’s mask.

“Hey, Sunburst! Hold up!”

Sunburst stopped. “Oh, Starlight, hey, I thought you’d be headed back home by now.”

“I just wanted to talk a little first.” Starlight bit her lip. “Look, I… I realise it’s been a really, really long time since we did anything together, but I was wondering if maybe, possibly, we could catch up sometime? Not today, obviously, but, anyplace? Are you doing anything soon you could use company for?”

Sunburst stroked his chin. “Now that you mention it, there is one thing. I’m a camp counsellor. Lots of foals around, lots of fun things to do, lots of time to catch up. Think you’re up for joining sometime?”

“Sure. Which camp, though?”

“Oh, umm, this one,” he got out a pamphlet and gave it to her. “I started volunteering a couple of years ago. It’s fun: you get to work with some interesting ponies and help out little foals. Might be good to talk about old times, if that’s what you want.”

Starlight nodded. “Sounds perfect. I think I can squeeze that into my schedule.”

“Sounds great. See you then!” He was already off.

“Yup, see you then!” the changeling called back while he wasn’t looking. After a few seconds, once he was out of earshot, Sapphire Gaze dropped her disguise and walked off to find a good spot to teleport from. She’d make sure to send the pamphlet to the right pony.

Bit of a cheat, I’ll admit, but it’ll be good for you, Starlight.

Bastion sat at the table, across from Gytha. Behind him, on his left, stood Gaenorga. On his right stood the four ponies: his mothers, Twilight Sparkle, and the mayor. The two male griffons flanked Gytha, in case she tried anything funny.

Gytha kept her claws where everyone could see them, drumming lightly on the table. She stopped before saying, “This is… not easy for me. I can’t imagine how hard it is for you.”

“It’s fine,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’m happy here.”

“I know, I gathered as much from the ponies around. I’m glad you’ve adjusted so well.”

Bastion kept his head turned so he couldn’t look Gytha in the eyes.

“Right,” Gytha said eventually. “I suppose I should cut to the chase. I’m really only here for two things. First, I wanted to clarify everything that’s happened. I’m sure you have a lot of questions about me and my family. Both families. You have a right to know.”

“I already know about your griffon family,” Bastion said. “Sapphire took me to see you when you wouldn’t come back. I saw your husband, and your babies. Twin boys.”

Gytha gasped ever so slightly. “The ponies mentioned something along those lines. I’m sorry, I never noticed. It never occurred to me anyone would try that.”

Lyra rubbed her son’s back. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

“Changelings can’t recognise each other through a disguise, not normally, but family bonds, they work differently for us than for ponies,” Bastion explained.

“Of course, you have morphic web ties, don’t you?” Twilight said, slapping herself in the forehead. “They would try that if they lost someone.”

“Beg your pardon?” Garwin asked.

Twilight shook her head as she gathered her thoughts. “A changeling senses shapes with a separate sense, like how you know whether you’re upside down or not. That same sense can track familial ties, along with certain… other magics, like talents and abilities.”

“They sent you to try and signal me,” Gytha said. “You had to get me back to the Hive.”

“And I failed. I tried, and I failed. I couldn’t get you back.” His eyes watered, his whole body shivered.

“Sweetie, that’s not your fault, you can’t blame yourself for that.”

“Yes, I can! You’re not a pony, so you don’t know, but I do!” he argued. “Love’s supposed to fix things. It fixed Nightmare Moon, it fixed the Cold Continent, it fixed Equestria. But it didn’t get you back. I couldn’t get you back. I failed because I didn’t love you enough, not like you loved me. I failed and all I had left was my uncle and Chrysalis.”

All around, the ponies started exchanging awkward glances.

“I thought no one knew who or where she was?” Gaenorga said. “The Archmage couldn’t try to undo the damage?”

“Chrysalis was the one who gave me my griffon persona,” Gytha explained. “The damage was too great, no amount of normal magic would have worked. Once I started having problems, the griffons treated me as a victim of magic. My body forgot how to change shape, so even a proper exam wouldn’t have worked. But a blood relative, that magic runs deep in our kind. I am so sorry you had to go through that. Chrysalis had no right to put that on your shoulders.”

“It doesn’t matter. I failed. I lost you,” he argued.

“Bastion, that’s not how it works,” Gytha said. “Chrysalis made me this way herself, she didn’t even let Sapphire plant any memories in me. You don’t know what kind of magic she has, you couldn’t know.”

“I could have,” he insisted. “I was supposed to.”

“No, you weren’t, and that’s Chrysalis talking,” Gytha insisted. “You can’t handle that kind of pressure, not at your age, not ever. The world doesn’t revolve around you, and it’s not going to land on your back. It’s not your fault my mind is broken. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Bastion clenched his eyes shut. “Are you happy? With the griffons?”

“I was made to be happy, yes.”

“But are you?”

“I am. It feels distant, like I’m looking at myself through someone else’s eyes, but yes, I do feel happy. As happy as I was when I raised you, however briefly that was. I’m still a mother, Bastion, that much didn’t change. I couldn’t stand the thought of you being abused or neglected, and if I’d remembered sooner...”

He shook his head. “You’d have gotten your mind wiped and your love drained for feeding as soon as you came back.” Finally he managed to look her in the eyes.

His breath quickened, and the sadness made way for anger in his eyes. “Mom, you… you’re not real, either, are you? Griffon or changeling? It’s both planted. Everything I remember, that’s not how it happened, is it? All the times you hugged me, or made me feel better, that… that was planted, too. You’re just a drone, deep down. You’ve always been a drone. You’re fake.”

She shrugged. “A convincing fake, but a fake nonetheless. I’m sorry, but that’s always been true.”

“So when Chrysalis got those drones to replace you… there wasn’t any difference, not really.”

“No.”

“All the love you gave me, it wasn’t because you loved me. It’s because she made you love me. It didn’t come from you, but from Chrysalis.”

“I wish I could deny it, but yes, that is the long and short of it, I’m afraid.”

He growled. His horn fizzled with green sparks, until he felt a hoof on his back. Love flowed into him, real love. Not that that meant anything at this point. “I guess… I always kind of knew. I just didn’t want to.”

“I’m sorry if I upset you, Bastion. I didn’t mean to. But you have a right to the truth. I never meant to harm you, in any way, and no matter where that sentiment came from, it’s true. Maybe knowing that, you can move on. Make your own life, Bastion, you have a family that loves you and a village that welcomes you. You don’t have to stay stuck in the past, dwelling on things that aren’t your fault.”

Bastion exhaled, and for a moment Gytha flinched.

He looked to his left and right. Both the ponies and griffons were confused about her reaction, but he didn’t dwell on it.

“You said there were two things you’re here for,” he said, eyes locked firmly on the table. “What’s the second?”

She took out a set of papers and slid it over. One parchment went to him, one to his left, one to his right.

“Three copies. For you, for the ponies, for the griffons. This boy does not belong to me. I give up any and all claims to him, though he will always have a home under my roof if he should need it. And if it ever comes to needing my blood, I’ll do my part.”

He snorted with anger. “So you’re giving me up. You’re leaving me. Again.”

“It’s for the best. I wish it wasn’t, truly I do. I wish I could remember the pride, the joy. But I don’t. It’s like watching pictures through a foggy lens. I have a happy life now, Bastion. You deserve one, too. If I thought for even a second that you didn’t belong here, I’d take you away. But this place, this whole town loves you, it’s palpable, you can taste it in the air every time your name comes up. You have a home, a good home, here. You are wanted, here. You’re going to grow up strong and smart, and who knows where you might go, what you might see. I can’t stand in the way of that. You were never exposed to any magic to corrupt you, you’re still young, so your mind can recover from what’s been done to you. If I were to remain in your life, I’d only make things worse. I’m sorry. I’m not the mother you remember me as. I can’t fix this.”

His eyes shot up when he heard her say that. Tears started flowing freely, but he wiped them away.

She pushed away from the table, turned her back on him, and walked out with the two male griffons flanking her. She stopped when she heard him speak up.

“Thank you… for letting me say goodbye. Goodbye, mom.”

“Goodbye, Bastion.”

Twilight let out a grunt as she exited the house. “That should have been personal, private. Poor boy, he’ll be scarred for life.”

Gaenorga shook her head. “No, he’s been wounded, and it’s not the first time he’s been wounded. Whether he’ll be scarred depends on how he heals.”

“What do you think we should do?” Lyra asked.

“What have you been planning to do?” the griffon asked in reply.

“We kind of thought if maybe we should send him to summer camp for a little bit. Get him away from Ponyville, let him make some new friends on his own. Twilight’s brother suggested a camp.”

“It’s a little bit unorthodox, though,” Twilight said. “Like I said, it’s mostly Pegasi that go there. It might be too much of a shock?”

“No, the more unorthodox, the better. Let him adopt a new role on his own, let him practise being his own self in a new environment. I’ve seen this before: give them a new place to fit in for a while, they come back brand new like nothing happened.”

“But something did happen, didn’t it?” Lyra asked, looking over to the griffons, particularly the two males who kept Gytha flanked. “What exactly are you three?”

Gaenorga looked at Twilight, then back to the boy’s parents. “It’s better if you don’t know, you’ll only lose sleep over it. You did well today, everyone did, even with the interloper. Rest assured, everything will be fine now.”

Chrysalis could scarcely contain her joy. The spies in griffon lands had done their work perfectly, and the copy of the report told her she was ready to proceed with her plans.

A little roadblock, that’s all you were, Faux Pas. I was too quick for you, getting a replacement ready.

The boy still remembered his secret little visit to the royal cellar, and Faux Pas had been smart enough to back up his magic into the closest blood relative who could carry it.

Best of all, there wasn’t a soul in six kingdoms who had any idea of what she was planning, even if some of her game pieces had become exposed.

No matter. She was in pony lands now, with her next target in sight.

The Unicorn mare kept her eyes on the elementary school. Fillies and colts sat inside, waiting eagerly for the bell to ring. Young fillies and colts, mostly blank flanks, but not all.

Blank, blank, and not blank. There you are. I’d recognise that aura out of a thousand.

She felt the hum and glow of one of the cutie marks, almost calling out to her. It belonged to a pink Pegasus filly sitting by the window, one who, upon closer inspection, had a strange habit of speaking in an old-fashioned way, lots of ‘gollies’ and ‘goshes’ and all those other sickening words that added far too much sugar to normal conversation. Her green mane was done up in an old fashion as well.

The mare kept herself hidden, but her glare turned murderous and her ears perked.

The filly, apparently, noticed the change in the air, and turned to look out the window. With her senses so focused, the mare could hear everything happening inside.

“Cozy Glow? Is something the matter?” the teacher asked.

“Oh, no, nothing at all, Miss.”

You wretched little foal. You gave me the slip back in the twenties, but here we are, once again. Nowhere to run this time, nowhere to hide.

The bell rang, and Cozy Glow grabbed her books before flying up high enough for her cutie mark to be visible through the window.

It was a chess piece, and the sight of it sent shivers of anticipation through the spying mare. Specifically, it was a rook, or a tower, as it was called in olden days. A red rook, at that, almost blood red.

None of the ponies seemed to recognise the mark, nor divine its importance.

So much the better.

The foals scattered, and the mare followed at a respectable distance. She was in a backwater pony village, where a Unicorn didn’t stand out. Thankfully, the little Pegasus was still at the stage where she could hover, but not fly too far up. There would be no escape this time.

The mare walked up to Cozy Glow as the filly hovered along the path home.

“Hello, Cozy Glow,” she greeted, smiling as the filly happened to be just at perfect eye level to her.

The filly turned. “Oh, hi, Miss. I don’t think we’ve met.”

The mare grinned. “Haven’t we? Hmm, strange, you seem familiar. A past life, perhaps.”

The filly gulped. A ring of green magic appeared around her throat, and she desperately started kicking the air as her breath was cut off.

A quick grip, no chance for her to utter any last-minute spells, and not enough power left to perform a low-level Rite at the last second.

This was going perfectly.

Chrysalis bared her teeth and drew in a deep breath while the filly’s flailing slowed. Slowly, the cutie mark faded, and the filly’s struggles ceased.

Chrysalis licked her lips, preparing for a final draining breath to finish it. “Goodbye, Ivory Tower. Give my regards to Tirek when you see him, would you?”

Bastion sat in the Cutie Mark Crusader clubhouse, looking out the window, head resting on his arms.

The sound of hooves approaching made him turn.

“Hey,” Apple Bloom said.

“Hey,” he replied.

She went to sit next to him, and awkwardly pushed her face against his to fit both in the window. He didn’t push her away.

“I heard about what happened,” she started.

“Everyone’s heard by now.”

She patted him on the back, carefully so as not to spook him. “Do you want me to stay here, or do you want to be alone?”

Tears welled up in his eyes. “Stay. Please stay. I don’t know how-I… I...”

She grabbed him in a hug. His face felt warm as the Sun against hers.

“I know,” she said.

“I didn’t wanna believe it. I thought she loved me. For so long, I thought she loved me. I thought she was different. I thought I was different. But she wasn’t. It was all Chrysalis. It was all just planted. In and out, in and out, it’s all fake. It’s always been fake.”

“She still gave birth to ya,” Apple Bloom reasoned.

“I know. That’s what hurts so much. I thought I could fix it. All this time, I thought I could fix it, but there was nothing to fix. Chrysalis took her away from me before I ever had a chance. Why? Why can’t she leave me alone? She did this, too, I’m sure of it. I don’t even know what’s me anymore, and she still wants to spite me for leaving.”

“Come on, you don’t know that.” She squeezed him harder. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Bastion. I’m sorry you had to hurt so bad.”

“It’s okay. At least I got to say ‘goodbye.’” He forced out a chuckle, and she smiled despite her own tears starting to well up.

“There ya go, silver lining. Not everypony gets to say goodbye.”

He squeezed her harder at that.

“It stops hurtin’ after a while, I promise,” she said. “You’ll be fine. If you need help moving on, you know you can always come talk to me, right? I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

If Chrysalis doesn’t try to take you away, too.

He sighed and broke the hug. His eyes were red, and he wiped them with a forelimb.

I have to stop her.

“Is something wrong?” Apple Bloom asked.

I won’t let her take anyone else away from me again.

“No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just that… my moms said maybe I need a change of scenery. They’re sending me to camp for two weeks.”

“Oh? Well, that sounds like a great idea. Go someplace new, meet some interestin’ ponies.”

He nodded. Get stronger, so I can do what I have to.

“Where are you headed?” she asked. “Any place I know?”

He gave her a pamphlet, one Twilight Sparkle had given him. “It’s popular for Pegasus ponies. They call it Fight Camp.”

The End.

Author's Note

So that's the end of that story. Part 1 of the trilogy. Not much to say about this one. It's been long in the making, too long, and probably overworked as a result. Too many re-writes on concept level, too many edits for consistency with later stories. I'm glad it's done, but I can't say I'm happy with it. It took too long, it's messy as a result. Chapter titles were settled on quite late in the process, too. The name 'Gytha' means 'Gift.' Thought that was kind of clever at the time, y'know?

Aside from that, apparently the story editor doesn't like the Brave browser very much. It keeps freezing and lagging on me. Weird.

But at least it's done, and better that than to have to spend another year on it trying to fix it by breaking it down for the umpteenth time. We'll call this a learning experience and leave it at that. Sequel incoming.