Diaries of the Anonymous Filly

Not long after consuming the entire foal-sized cake—still not sure how I managed that—I tested out the guard's suggestion. It pissed me off to no end that some random guard stallion, especially one who couldn't go very long without putting his hoof in his mouth, managed to figure out that my new changeling nature allowed me to form the spell on my shell before I did. Maybe the worst part was that he was right. It was so much quicker to form a spell formula in my mind's eye and use my new bug power to form it as a thin indentation directly on my foreleg than it was to inscribe it on clay.

In fact, the only real downside was that it wasn't something I could transform and forget. Sure, it'd stay as long as any transformation, but my limited understanding told me that one real good blow—or really anything that could break my focus—could force me to shed my transformations if I wasn't careful. Would I even be able to use them if I were disguised? I need more time to practice and experiment.

It also felt uncomfortable to cast. I never noticed any heat from spell-casting before, and maybe heat wasn't even be the right word for it. Casting a modified light spell to conjure a blue light above the other guard's head, it was like someone poured not-quite-scalding water onto the area my magic coursed through. When I remembered the aftermath of the rail-gun spell, and what it did to the clay I'd inscribed it on, a pit of anxiety formed in my belly. Similar things had happened when being greedy with earth-conjuration in general. The clay has been acting as a medium, but also a buffer that could absorb a major portion of spell backlash. What would that do to my body if I used one of those spells? Would my foreleg explode?

After all was said and done, I asked the two guards to return to their post outside the door. Although I told them I needed time to think—to process everything I'd done today—the truth was that I was waiting for an opportunity to escape. On a piece of stationery, I wrote out a quick, 'Sorry, Blue. This is my choice to make.' The pillow was returned to its proper spot on the bed, along with the note, as I perched myself on the windowsill. Even if the room I'd been given did not overlook the central part of the base, I could just make out the gate from my view of the fence. It didn't seem any busier than it had when we arrived on base. It also didn't seem like there were any regular air or ground patrols around the perimeter. For that matter, even the few pegasi coming or going walked on the ground while on base.

Huh... if this is a ground station Does that mean there's a cloud-based air station that works in tandem with this base? If so, I wonder where it is.

My chance came after about half an hour. One of the guards at the gate left their post—dunno if it was to take a shit or if they staggered their change of guard so that there was at least always one on duty—leaving the other alone. I took the opportunity to transform into a certain pegasus colt that I'd once plucked. Although I didn't know how to fly wearing Ebony's shape, I'd seen enough pegasi glide that I reckoned I shouldn't have any problem doing that. It'd definitely make less noise than my buggy wings.

Careful as to not make any noise, I opened the window in a slow deliberate manner. Then, I instinctively started pooling mana at my hooves. This was something my body's new instincts were telling me, rather than anything in the mess of information crammed into my head—though this might be in there too. With a bit of my magical energies pooled in my hooves, I should be able to stick to almost any surface.

Sure, trusting in foreign instincts and slipping out the window seemed like a stupid move; if I was wrong, I'd drop a few stories before hitting the ground. Despite her fucking me over once, though, I don't think Désirée would make me into a changeling and guarantee I couldn't be 'corrupted' by Harmony like the previous batch, only to also give me defective instincts that get me killed. That'd be counterproductive.

Lo and behold, listening to these strange instincts actually worked. It was plenty disorienting, and I kept found myself wanting to spread my arms—er, wings—to better balance, but I was able to walk down the wall like it was nothing. The fence only seemed to come up as high as the ceiling of the first floor, and some quick math told me I needed to kick off from the threshold of the second and third floors to successfully glide over it.

The moment I hit the air directly above the fence topper, a siren filled the air. I used the moment of confusion on the gate guard's point to drift across the street and duck into an alley. I swapped out my Ebony disguise for Ivory, trading my wings for a pointless horn. I didn't let the sound of the guard kicking into action cause me to panic, though. I took just enough time to orient myself, and then made for the west side of the city.

Going directly southwest might've been more efficient, since it would take me directly to Canterlot. The problem with that, though, was that I was almost certain Blueblood would figure out what I'd done and try to intercept me. Sure, southwest might've been the obvious choice, but he'd likely anticipate me trying to anticipate him. Because it was the most obvious choice, he might decide I might anticipate him deciding to instead block the west or northwest, leaving the easiest route unguarded. Then again, he might station groups over the south and north portions, giving him easy response to straight west. It was a risk that had to be taken, though. I'd only have one chance.

The further away from the middle of the city I got, the shorter the buildings became, and eventually I was straight-up cutting through residential areas. It was here that I got my first hint that Equestria probably had another few days before shit got really bad. All of the lawns that I saw had lost all hints of green. The grass was all yellowing, and even shrubs were beginning to suffer. I know that Celestia's sun isn't as big as the Earth's, and it isn't as far away from the planet, but all this extended sun and heat is still killer for the environment. What's it even like elsewhere on the planet?

Rather than stick to the roads, I minimised my time exposed to the sky. That meant cutting through ponies' yards, hopping fences, sticking close to buildings and going through formerly green spaces like parks. It felt like I might have been being followed at one point, but the skies seemed relatively clear. I say relatively because it seemed like wild clouds had been brought in from over the sea in order to provide some cover and respite to the city while I'd been on my rampage, but I didn't really look up enough to notice until now. Somepony could've been hiding up in the clouds and I'd never know.

The fields outside the city hadn't fared much better. What had been verdant plains were now yellowed and dying. All it would be good for now would be hay at this rate. On the bright side, I spotted the black-armoured airship parked a few kilometres outside the city. Unfortunately, I could also see a small observation post the Royal Guard set up to keep an eye on them. Strangely, there was still no sign of pursuit. Could they get somepony out to intercept me if I was spotted? For that matter, I would need an opportunity to transform into 'Alicorn Anon' before I get up on the deck.

My eyes drifted back to the clouds. Theoretically, I should be able to stand on clouds. Manipulation of weather might be impossible with changeling magics, but they'd never be able to blend in without the ability to cloud walk. "This is a stupid idea," I muttered, shedding my transformation. Opening my wings—God, that feels weird!—I began to buzz them. It took a moment to get the right feel and cadence to generate lift, but I wasn't planning on flying straight at them; just straight up.

It was hard not to freak out, especially so when looking down was the last thing I wanted to do. Clouds especially felt weird to stand on. We did a life-raft drill as part of the job training for working the cargo ship, and it felt just like trying to move about on the inflatable raft. I didn't much care for it, as I moved about, looking for a small portion of cloud. I'm gonna have to give this a boost, transform, and then glide down onto the deck of their ship when I'm close enough.

~ 41 ~

I don't know why I'm so disappointed to be in a cage, I thought to myself two hours later. It's not like I thought they were gonna put me up in the captain's quarters. My plan to get on the airship went almost perfectly. I say almost because some motherfucker almost stabbed me before someone with some authority recognised the wings and the horn. After convincing their leader that I was the one they were after—mostly by mentioning facts about the skirmish around the train station and explaining what the fuck I did to their pursuit craft, I'd been stuffed into a weird cage in the hold.

It's where I belong, a tiny part of me whispered, although I didn't pay it any mind.

I'd asked one of the armoured creatures—I think they were supposed to be some sort of oversized hedgehog—why they didn't bother putting an inhibitor on my horn, and they just laughed. Why use an inhibitor when they could use a cage made of the same stuff to hold me... unless I'd rather to be locked in stone like the other princesses. Didn't know exactly what they meant by that, but I imagined it had to do with the longstanding association of alicorns and the crown.

Not long after, they locked up the hold, leaving me alone in just dim red light. The airship kicked into motion, but it didn't seem like we were headed directly to Canterlot. For one, we were flying far too long for that trip. I got the impression from the way they flew that these ships could easily outpace the train by quite a bit. It didn't feel like we were going south-west enough, but I can't explain what gave that feeling. We might've even gone over some mountains based on some changes in altitude.

It wasn't like my trip was quiet, though. These hedgehog creatures were hard to understand, but they were none-the-less talkative. I caught bits of conversation through a nearby vent. Some rank-and-file goons were discussing whether I should be tried and put to death, or if I could be convinced to serve the Storm King. I think one even suggested something about percussive maintenance to make me more compliant.

That was when I received an interesting bit of information. It explained why we weren't in Canterlot yet; the captain of this ship was meeting up with the vessel commanded by Tempest Shadow. I recognised the name from Blueblood's letter in Starlight's memory. That was the name of the Storm King's unicorn commander. I guess the captain's looking to earn a raise.

Still, a unicorn commander? That could be useful. Even if she had betrayed her species, might she still have some pony sensibilities? Would that be something I couldn't exploit to my advantage? I wonder how she feels about foal abuse or the torture of prisoners of war? Her reactions might help me play this by ear.

I listened to the comings and goings of those up on the deck. The only other way into the hold was a hatch that seemed to go further into the ship. I couldn't feel anyone near that door, nor the one that led up to the deck. Once I was sure I wasn't about to get walked in on while I did my 'make-up', I put my glasses on the floor of my cage, shut my eyes, and started visualising.

A bleeding wound isn't something I'm gonna be able to do, I don't think. Pretty sure Biologia Mutabilis said something about pony and changeling blood being different and looking different. Stains might be doable, but they won't stand up to scrutiny. With that in mind, I started with something simple: a black eye and some 'ruptured blood vessels' to add a red look to my eye. As I pushed through those changes, I winced. Ow! What the fuck? I brought a hoof up and rubbed at my now bruised eye. That actually hurt!

That was something neither the book nor the memories told me of. Did I do something wrong? I glanced up at the hatch to the hold. It was possible that simple surface 'injuries' might be painful to make a disguise more convincing. After all, it's hard to fake a genuine reaction when someone touches an injury, so a changeling's brain might trick them into thinking it's real. I know the concept... Psycho something or other.

Closing my eyes once more, I started picturing my next changes. I formed a cut on my lip, not unlike one of the several that cretin gave me throughout my childhood, and started 'staining' my simulated fur around my nose and lip with the reddish-rust colour of drying blood. The lip was sore, but tolerable. I didn't exactly wanna chance finding out what it felt like when I plucked Ebony, so instead I altered the flight-feathers on my wings to appear burnt. No pain there, thankfully.

Roughed up and hobbled is good, but there's one last thing I think I can do, I decided. First step, gird myself for what's to come. If I was right and this one hurt a lot, I couldn't chance blacking out. My disguise would probably crumble, and on top of all that wasted energy, they'd find out I'm a changeling. And that's still weird to say.

As the thin flame rolled up my body, and the pain of my horn cracking raced through my mind, I turned my thoughts inward. Is this why she insisted on packing my head full of all this knowledge? The pain churned my stomach, and I unfortunately lost a good portion of that cake I'd eaten. I found myself lying down while nausea took its time to pass. Did she expect me to take to being a changeling like a duck to water?

I came the conclusion that it was a distinct possibility. She knew things about me—had been able to conjure images of my past—and had clearly had an eye on me since I 'corrupted' Chrysalis. The former queen had called it ironic that Celestia would give me this name, but perhaps prophetic might've been the better descriptor. As had been shown in that hive-space, I've always been a bit of a changeling. Wasn't what Désirée forced onto me—and into my head—just a new walk along a similar path with new tricks?

Eventually, the sound of the engine cut out. A few minutes after that, there was a loud clang. We've docked with something, or we're being boarded. My memory momentarily slipped back to when the cargo ship I'd gotten work on left port. I remembered the way we were randomly selected for inspection, and how I was practically shitting myself the entire time, wondering if I was about to get snatched up and taken in to the police. It was just a routine stop-and-inspect, or so the first mate said.

If it's an inspection, I think I know what the focus will be.

There was a clamour up on deck, but as I popped my glasses back on and reached out to get a feel for the emotions surrounding me, I froze. If I had to guess, the wall of the hold was about fifteen metres from my cage. Just over fifteen beyond that was a familiar presence, all by itself, but unmistakable... Aunt Twilight? Her emotional spectrum was tinged with sorrow, and there was a hint of... submission? That didn't make any sense, though... What happened to the others? What happened to Spike?

I was so taken aback by Twilight's presence, that I didn't even hear them unlock the door into the hold. Before I even realised it, there was the clank of metal-shod hooves coming down the stairs into the hold. There were two of those armoured creatures with her, following close behind. "I find myself surprised, and somewhat disappointed, that the ponies of Manehattan made the sensible choice," came the voice of a mare. "After the way the wayward prince fought so hard to get those ponies out of Canterlot, I was expecting to have to come and take the alicorn he smuggled out."

"That's just it, Commander," came the voice of the vessel's captain. "She turned herself in. Looked like there were even some of those pegasi in those shiny tin cans they call armour trying to catch up to stop her."

As they came to a stop in front of the cage, I got my first good look at the unicorn that was the head of this invading army. It was kinda disappointing to see that her coat was of a darker purple colouration, and her mane a dark pink; it would've been interesting to see the contrast of her black plate armour and the pastel palette of most ponies. I couldn't even decide which was more striking; the fact that her horn was busted up—not unlike the false one I'd fashioned ended up after the explosion—or the gnarly scar over her right eye.

"Smart kid," she muttered as she looked down on me with her lifeless eyes. Even as I pushed my back and side against the far side of the cage and began to tremble in 'fear', I could feel her reaction. It was so muted that I had to strain to pick it out, but it was still there as she took in my appearance—alarm, anger, and even a smidgen of doubt. "This is the one responsible for destroying an airship with one spell—a mere foal."

She turned to the ship's captain and gave him a withering look. "Tell, me," she said coolly, "What was this one's condition when she arrived?"

"Uh," the guy looked from her to me, and I could see the gears turning in his head as fear started pouring off of him. Interesting... He's scared of her, even with her broken horn. He had two courses of action that I could see; he could claim I was like this when I got here, or admit I was pristine. One would be easily disproved, and the other would make him look incompetent. "She was like that when she got here, Commander Tempest."

Even as I shook my head with my ears pinned back, the mare was looking down at my wings, and then at my horn. "Leave us," she commanded, her tone brooking no argument. It took him and his stooge a moment for that to register in their heads. Once the pair ran back up onto the deck and shut the hatch, she let out a long-suffering sigh. "If I didn't already have the last princess, I would throw him off the airship myself," she muttered, rubbing her forehead as she turned away. I could feel her frustration building. "They don't have any idea what is at stake..." I could see sparks shoot off from the broken end of her horn. "Yes, we're the 'bad guys', but must you really debase yourselves by torturing a foal that turned herself in to spare a city?"

"You don't seem all that surprised," I noted out loud, "that they would hurt me." While her back was turned, I reverted to my unaltered alicorn disguise. "Do you really have such little trust in your troops?"

"Of course they would want to hurt you, child!" She whirled around to look at me. "Many of them had comrades on that ship." Her frustration collapsed in on itself as she looked at me once more. "What... what are you?"

"Yeah, about that whole alicorn thing," I said, adjusting my glasses. "Your whole assumption that an alicorn cast that spell was honestly kinda retarded. There never was an alicorn on that train to begin with." I dismissed the wings and horn, leaving just me as I recognised myself. "Up until several hours ago, I wasn't even a changeling. When I shot down that vessel, I was just the earth pony you see before you, using a technically illegal spell cobbled together in runic magic. I only took on that form because it was the only way your pigheaded condition for the sparing of Manehattan could be fulfilled, and I could clean up my mess."

Her jaw dropped. "That's impossible!" She stormed up to the bars of the cage with a growl. Oooh, that's some spicy anger, but also a bit of despair and... hope? "What sort of game are you playing at?"

Sighing, I dismissed my transformation completely. "Let's try this again from the top," I offered, giving her a toothy smile. The mare actually winced as she met my eyes... Or was she looking at my teeth? "My name is Anonymous Flicker. I am Ponyville's resident rune-mage in training, apprentice to Princess Twilight Sparkle, allegedly soon-to-be knighted, mass murderer, creator of several stupidly dangerous spells... oh, and a changeling queen, I guess."

I paused thoughtfully as I transfigured the Weaved Spiral format of the standard light spell into my foreleg. "Don't believe me?" I asked, slipping my foreleg through a gap in the cage. "Go ahead; it's just the beginner's light spell from Your Horn and You. Just put your hoof on the central rune there. Guide your mana down through your leg, instead of your horn, and reach out with your hoof field. Do so with the intent to cast the spell, and watch what happens."

She did so, albeit hesitantly. Again, I felt that burning sensation in my limb, but after a quick, bright flash, it seemed to pass. Maybe it had to do with her regulating the flow of her mana and spooling down to a blue light not unlike my own. "This is... this is not possible," she muttered, releasing my leg. "This has to be some kind of trick."

"No trick, ma'am," I assured her as I pulled my leg back into the cage. "It's just an art that's only mostly dead. I used to think it was just because unicorns wanted to hoard all of the magic to themselves, but with the ease which I have been able to weaponise it... I think it was to keep the creation of spells in only the most elite of scholarly circles to protect the masses from themselves. Unicorn spells are just internalised runic spells anyway."

She took a step back, looking somewhat dizzy. Even if I couldn't feel her thoughts, I could feel the turmoil in her head. It was a dumb idea, but I wanted to stoke that spark of doubt I felt. "What did the Storm King offer you to betray your entire species, anyway?" I asked in a tone of innocence. The glare she shot me would've terrified me a day ago, but I'd already murdered my demons. I didn't fear her nearly as much as I probably should. "Did he offer you a good time?" I asked in Pinkie's cheerful voice. "Glory?" followed in Dashie's voice. "Honest work?" I pried with Applejack's twang. "Riches?" It was unfair to Rarity to associate her with greedy motivations, but it was the closest that fit. "A little kindness?"

"Stop it," she demanded.

"It was magic, wasn't it?" I asked in the voice of Auntie Twilight. At the spike in her rage, I zeroed in on the cause. My eyes locked on her horn, and in a pitying tone, I stated, "Oh... He offered to fix your horn..."

Honestly, it was probably a good thing this cage was made of the same material that magic inhibitors for unicorns were made of. The torrent of raw, sparking magic she poured forth like flames from her stump of a horn probably would have really hurt. "I warn you now," she snarled as she ceased her attack. "Speak your next words with care."

I nodded, holding up my hooves defensively. "I can't judge," I admitted in a solemn tone. "I made my deal with a hungry devil to get my own body separate from the one my soul had been crammed into, and now I'm like this." I looked away, unable to meet her seething gaze any longer. "I just hope that you getting your horn back is actually in your devil's interests, lest he choose to fuck you over."

I could feel the sourness pouring off of her as she started walking away. "Put your disguise back on," she said in a flat tone. Oooh, I definitely struck a nerve... and look at all that doubt. "All of it. You will be transferred into the hold of my airship shortly, and if you don't wish to out yourself to the captain after you made a fool of him, you'll remain in that form until we arrive in Canterlot." She looked at me with narrowed eyes, adding in a low voice, "Try anything, and Manehattan—along with whoever you're trying to protect by turning yourself in—will burn. Are we clear?"