Cold Snap knew what to expect. He knew there would be two trees. He knew one would be healthy. He knew one would be dying. He knew there would be fire.

Yet despite all that, it wasn’t as he expected. Yes, all that was there, and the heat was nigh-unbearable. The fire was everywhere, but in a strange way that cast no flicker or shadow. Every crack and smooth crevice of the cavern.

And oh, what a cavern! In the unnatural light, the far side was far enough away to fit the entire Yellow Rose. The roughly oval cavern’s ceiling was relatively low, but that was still more than enough to give a pegasus plenty of room to fly comfortably. Its walls were mottled like there were pockets and divots in the wall, but in the omnipresent light, it was hard to tell if it was a waver in the wall or an extension of the room.

In the middle of it all waited the trees. They stood as he remembered from his dreams. One stood tall, vibrant, and bearing the fruit that had his mouth watering at the sight of it. Subconsciously, he knew that bite came with a terrible stomachache, but he still could imagine.

The other was skeletal. No fruit adorned its boughs. Fire swirled through its twigs. Only a few leaves tenaciously clung to it.

Nothing else remained in the room. Nothing had disturbed the room for millennia until now. Nothing stood between them and the trees save for the fire.

“Incredible,” Lilith breathed.

Even Captain Gideon seemed to be awed by the sight. He stared wide-eyed and slack-jawed everything. His claw raised and slowly crossed his chest.

Nebula seemed less impressed; his eyes roved over the scenery. Awe seemed to be the last thing on his mind. Rather, he studied everything in that way that he usually did. His attention lingered on a far section of wall. When Cold Snap looked, he saw a roughly circular patch on the wall. It was the only spot in the whole cavern that didn’t look like it had been flushed by a small lake.

Instead of smooth stone, this seemed jagged and grainy like stone and soil mixed. More than that, it was flat as a dish. It was almost like the shield spell from earlier held the other side in place. Snap didn’t know what to make of it.

Mr. Horn had shut up. Finally. If there was one single positive to all of this, it was that his tongue had finally been metaphorically yanked from his head. He did not spoil the moment either by word or deed.

As for the rest, they shuffled in and took a side closest to their leader. All however uncomfortably tugged on their armor.

After a moment of reverence, the group seemed to shake themselves from it. Lilith spoke up first. “At long last, it is here. It’s all real. It’s incredible,” she repeated.

They looked at the scene in silence. Lilith spoke again. “I was right, wasn’t I?”

Everyone looked at the mare. Tears welled in her eyes at the overwhelming sight before her. She faced Captain Gideon. “You are here. So tell me. Was I right?”

Cold Snap’s mind struggled to interpret what she could possibly be right about. Everyone else in the cavern seemed just as perplexed. Everyone except Captain Gideon that is.

He held her gaze and sighed in resignation. “Mostly.”

Mostly?

“Mostly what?” Lilith echoed Snap’s question.

When the captain did not answer fast enough to her liking, she pressed her questioning. “I have sought a way back all my life. It has been something I never imagined could one day be real. You are determined to deny me satisfaction. Grant me this much! What did I have wrong?”

“Man came here,” Captain Gideon began, “but he could not survive magic. His world has so little magic it may as well be a void. He is without magic, an empty vessel in a sea of immense magical pressure.”

Captain Gideon pointed to himself. “It forces itself inside, and it totally changes its vessel until it conforms to that pressure. Thus, mankind is indistinguishable from any pony, griffon, or a dozen other races.”

Lilith gaped and shook her head in defiance. “But that is everything I said! What is so different?”

Captain Gideon reached into his coat and pulled forth a silver coin. He flicked it with a claw and the unicorn snatched it from the air. She hovered it close and scrutinized it while the griffon continued to explain. “Man was not trapped here. He had the power to travel from his world to ours. So, you are almost right. I grew up here. I made my mother so proud when I first learned to fly. It was my father who stumbled through.”

Nebula and Cold Snap glanced at each other. The same question evident in the other’s eyes. If Man could travel freely, then where were they? There had to be some reason they were condemned to legends.

“So you say it is possible to go back!” Lilith dropped the coin, eagerness evident in her tone.

Captain Gideon only shook his head. “Magic corrupts. My father, like many before him, found that the trip back was only a visit. His body now brimmed with magic, and it soon began to spill out. That was how he learned why there were so many legends of griffons, pegasi, unicorns, etcetera in his world.”

Lilith fell silent. All her attention turned back to the flaming trees before her. Her face twisted as she considered everything that turned her understanding of the world upside down.

“But you can go back?” Lilith pressed.

Captain Gideon nodded. “Indeed. You will be lost in a world unlike your own. You will find everything you believe of it is wrong. You will find the”-

“I don’t care! What does it matter if I am a hopeless foreigner? I have dreamed of what you so obviously disdain. Even if I am to be a pony there too.”

He waved a claw, gesturing to the dirty patch on the wall. “By all means. There is the way through. You might have to do a bit of digging though.”

“Gladly,” she grit her teeth.

A thought crossed her mind. “Or I could assume that there are more than this one. He obviously didn't come from here. No doubt you have a list or map of some, hmm? Or perhaps I shall find one of these boundaries at my leisure.”

Then she smiled. “But first, to change history. Cold Snap, if you would come here please.”

All eyes turned to him, and Cold Snap suddenly felt very tiny. Unsure of what to do, he slowly approached the strange mare. Her smile grew as he grew closer. Likewise, so did Captain Gideon’s frown.

“Now, you and I will go out there. You can feel the magic of this place even stronger than I can. All it takes is for us to tap into that magic, and we can use it to change everything.”

“We?” he repeated.

“Of course. You are tied to this place. It’s an honor for you.”

She did not wait for him to follow, instead getting up and marching straight for the trees. She made it ten paces.

Like an animal, the swirling fires leapt towards her. Only quick movement and a swift shield kept Lilith from being incinerated. The temperature in the room swelled and everyone shrank back. She did not try for an eleventh step.

Captain Gideon tapped his claws thoughtfully. “It would appear that you are not welcome there.”

Lilith ground her teeth in rage. “Then why don’t you try?”

He shook his head. “I am not welcome here either.”

Cold Snap wasn’t sure what to do. This was so far beyond his wildest imaginations. With every second that ticked by, he felt more and more convinced that he had to do something.

With both authority figures in the room divided, he would have to come up with it on his own. He touched his magic.

Normally, he never thought about his magic. It was just something that happened as he was outside. It made him feel strong. It flowed from the earth, through him as a conduit, and back into the earth to make the plants grow.

Now though, he paid close attention to the magic raging beneath him. It was like standing atop an inferno. The first tree commanded so much. Its power practically thrummed to his senses. The second tree, more skeletal and by all appearances dead, was nothing more than a dying ember. The only hint that it still lived was a scattering of leaves still tenaciously clinging to it.

It was familiar. But why? And if he knew, what would it mean?

“Perhaps you should concede defeat here. I do not believe you will be altering any grand destinies this way.”

Captain Gideon seemed to know his words would sooner convince the sun to not shine than convince Lilith to abandon her quest. At this point, he seemed to do it just to irritate her.

Lilith, for her part, didn’t bluster or rage. She stared out into the impenetrable wall of flame. “No. I will not.”

“I urge you to reconsider. Then we may return to the Yellow Rose. We may rest and drink together. And you will finally learn the truth of all those things I kept secret from you. It may be a new beginning.”

“No. I will not,” she repeated

Captain Gideon looked disappointed, but a weariness in his frame said that he was not surprised.

“Captain Gideon, what would it take to redeem mankind?”

Instead of a response, Captain Gideon merely laughed. That caught Lilith off guard. She desperately wanted to ask what the griffon found so funny about the subject, but Captain Gideon denied her that pleasure.

“Had you asked me that merely a month ago, I would have said it were impossible. I might have considered your proposition, but only might. You see, I did not understand then something just as you do now.”

“Oh?” her eyes betrayed curiosity.

“Someone spoke to me about this matter not long ago. I asked him what Man could to redeem his kind. Do you know what he said?”

Lilith unconsciously leaned forward waiting to hear the answer.

“Nothing.”

She blinked. “Nothing?!” she asked in a seething anger.

He nodded. “I didn’t understand then. I do now. Redemption is like love. It can never be earned. It may only be given.”

Captain Gideon’s words had an impact upon the mare. Her anger subsided as she pondered his unexpected words, but the moment passed quickly. When she looked up again, her eyes were hard and resolute. “Then consider it my gift.”

“Cold Snap,” she uttered.

Her words nailed him to the floor. All he could do was wait and listen.

“It is a very simple thing that I would have you do. Go to the tree and touch its magic. It is tied into the magical core of this world, but it lies dormant. You must awaken it. I will work my magic from there.”

Cold Snap finally found his tongue. “Any reason why you can’t do it yourself?”

Of course he’d seen her poor reception. She knew he’d seen it. She scowled, but entertained his sarcasm. “Because you are an earth pony. Your magic is suited to it. Also, your body and soul are now keyed to this place. You are the only one who may pass.”

“And if I refuse? I could just walk and you are up a creek.”

She nodded. “You could, but I fear the magic in the artifact demands release. I can feel it from here. You would not survive long.”

He readied another barbed argument, but Captain Gideon stalled him. “Cold Snap, Man has already tasted the bitter burden of knowledge. He would choose life.”

“Again with your nonsense,” Lilith grumbled.

Cold Snap ignored their brewing argument. Despite his earlier claim, he would not leave the room. Not for any money or promise. A peculiar gravity filled him. Just as Captain Gideon struggled through his own crisis, he found himself on the cusp of his own crisis. Here, there was no retreat.

He had to do something! That gravity filled him, and step by step, he felt himself dragged to the epicenter of the supernatural inferno. He cringed as the flames licked close. He closed his eyes, but nothing so much as singed his coat.

It was hot, broiling even, yet none of it seemed to bother him. He risked a glance and saw the flames swirling around him like water around a stone.

Everyone stared at him. Shock and a little fear ruled them despite them knowing what would come.

Nothing could turn him now. The trees loomed before him. He could feel their touch growing ever stronger with each step. Stone ended and dirt shifted beneath his hooves. Then, he was there.

He could feel the trees, and they could feel him. They recognized him. He felt warm. It was not like the fires slowly baking them. Instead, it was a pleasant warmth. It welcomed him.

He felt the magics again, tracing each vein back to their sources. The fires calmed slightly at his touch. He could feel the near-overwhelming power of the first tree. A single thought planted itself in its mind: Knowledge.

This was Lilith’s greatest desire, her own obsession. Yet, Man did not desire knowledge.

The second was barely a whisper. His magic had to work harder to discern it from the neighboring tree.

Life. It wasn’t a thought, but touching the tree’s magic had suffused his whole body with that single overarching understanding. Suddenly, he knew why it was familiar.

It had spoken to him. He’d seen it in his dreams. It was the most potent taste of the magics that grew everything green. In an ironic twist of fate, this tree of life was dying. He felt it in his saddlebags.

Felt? Sure enough, he could feel the magical tendrils connecting the lifeless tree to the artifact in his saddlebags. He withdrew it and saw its light within gleaming brighter than ever.

Cold Snap nearly fell to the dirt in his shock. They all had misunderstood. This wasn’t an artifact. It was a seed! After a long, impossible journey, it had finally come home.

The enormity of Lilith’s order came into focus. Awaken the tree of knowledge, and war, barbarity, and perhaps even evil itself would be eradicated. Not even the knowledge of it would remain. It was tempting, but he knew that it could never be that simple. It would simply remove the knowledge of it, not its terrible consequences. The cost would come eventually and be too high to pay.

The seed could give him nothing. It held no promises of purging evil, but it offered something Lilith’s vision never could: choice.

Captain Gideon could choose to take a life or spare it. He had said that all were free to choose rebellion. Cold Snap had later countered that the power to choose was an incredible gift. Evil could be anywhere and anything, yet when there was a choice to be evil, did that not magnify benevolence, goodness, and Harmony itself?

In a world where that choice had been stripped, then what good was goodness? Cold Snap chose. He scored a deep furrow in the earth and placed the seed.

Instinctively, he knew the seed was ready. It struggled against the walls of its prison, yet he didn’t know how to break the gem-encrusted shell.

He risked a glance at the gathered crowd. They watched, but nothing seemed to change. Awe at the impossible situation distracted them from his small actions. He knew that would not last. Eventually Lilith would realize the trickery. He had to solve this quickly.

Back home, it was a rare occurrence that they could not easily sprout a seed. When it happened, it all came down to magic. Some seeds just took a bit more to crack them open.

He felt the magic surging beneath and around him. Magic was one thing he had in abundance here, but he had to channel it somehow. It wasn’t enough for it to be ambient.

Digging his hooves into the soil, Snap felt the magic of the seed. He could feel it yearning for life. He pushed some of his own magic into it. The seed greedily slurped everything he sent to it, and he broke the connection with a gasp.

The seed felt ever so slightly invigorated, but Cold Snap knew it would suck the life out of him if he wasn’t careful. The seed was just that potent.

Another glance at the group revealed little had changed, but Lilith seemed to be growing impatient. Time was running out.

Inspiration struck him. There just might be a way to get more magic. Earth ponies like himself could imbue the land with their own magic, but they could also draw similar magics and “refine” them into something they could manipulate.

His eyes drifted from the seed to its dying parent. They were certainly similar. Could it be done?

Life for life.

The thought pressed into him. No doubt the tree sacrificed itself to bring forth the next generation. Snap nodded and reached for that faint wisp of power. It resisted briefly and surrendered. As it passed through his body, he felt himself vitalized, able to pull mountains and buck down entire forests. Every sense of his was magnified.

The shell beneath him crackled, but his hope faded when it stopped at that. He needed more power.

Before he could question the wisdom of his idea, he reached for the magic of the other tree. It was massive. He felt like a candle next to a star. He would not stop. It was too late to stop.

Magic raced through him like lightning. If he felt vitalized before, he felt omnipotent now. What matter was it to buck the entire forest in one blow when he could sprout one with a breath, and every stomp felt as if he could gouge an ocean?

Still, the magic channeled through him and into the waiting seed below. He heard it crackle. He felt the life surging within. He could see the fires dwindling with each passing second.

“He touches it!” Lilith screamed in delighted passion.

He was doing far more than touching it. He could feel his body being assaulted by magic beyond compare. With each passing moment, the power within the seed matured. Each passing second felt like an eternity.

Suddenly, he began to understand something: this would kill him.

It did not bother him as much as it should have. Life for life as the tree had said. Lilith’s plan would have ended just as badly, and he would be denied that pleasure of seeing her face widen in shock and belated understanding.

Captain Gideon cleared his throat. “Tell me, Lilith. How did you know his name? I certainly never mentioned it.”

Lilith was too fixated on the drama within the fire to comment.

“Oh? I suppose you could tell me then, Mr. Horn?” the captain asked with a razor’s edge to his tone.

The seed cracked with the sound of thunder. Instantly, a shoot three feet tall and decorated with vibrant green leaves jutted from the ground. The fires whiffed out forever, and the two trees, the last witnesses of the dawn of the world, stood dead and still.

Magic had been the only thing holding Snap up. With it gone, he collapsed like a puppet. In his swirling vision, he could see something small fluttering just above him.

The cavern fell into a surreal twilight as Lilith summoned more magelight, and a chill snaked in where the fires had once been. He could only just make out the shape of a leaf in a world growing ever darker.

He ignored how tired he was. He ignored Nebula’s panicked shouts for him. All he saw in the fading light was the leaf falling from the skeletal branches of the life tree. He reached a hoof out. It was beautiful. He had to touch-

Author's Note

Bam.

Bam.

Bam.

The Publisher felt it. The migraine of all migraines. It had nothing to do with his incessant head-desking. No. That honor went to the figure standing before him.

The Author stood before him, a peculiar cross of sheepishness and obliviousness. Scattered around him were various bits of décor strewn around their office. There were bits of tinsel and ornaments leftover from the Christmas campaign and even a few stragglers of the great Thanksgiving Siege. The faint hint of turkey lingered in the office.

The Publisher hated turkey. In fact, he hated it more than the dozens of "Missing" and "Wanted: Alive...probably" posters of the Author that littered his wall.

"Weeks. I waited for any sort of update from you for weeks!" he growled.

"It was actually four weeks as per the old schedule. So technically one month."

"Four weeks. One month. What's the difference?"

"Half of one. Six dozen of the other."

"Yes...err... what?" the Publisher said as his headache spiked.

"Exactly as you said. I simply felt the need to be contrary," the Author clarified.

Shaking his head didn't seem to make the confusion go away. Instead, the Publisher latched onto something. "Old schedule? What on earth are you talking about?!"

The Author pulled off his desperado derby and replaced it with a black gas mask. "I am altering the deal. Pray I don't alter it any further."

Shocked, the Publisher half-rose out of his spinny chair. Since spinny chairs are not meant to be half-in/half-out, the spinny chair spinnied underneath him and dumped him to the floor. He half-rose, which a floor would allow, and glared at the Author. "You agreed to monthly, regular updates!"

The Author jerked back as if shocked at such an accusation. "I lied!"

A glint under the desk caught the Publisher's attention. A weapon. He just needed to keep the Author distracted. He surreptitiously scooped the weapon towards him as he rose. "But Christmas specials! Hearthswarming! New years!"

"Not real. None of them. Simply phantasms of your compromised ethos and mead-iocre intellect."

"Some days I wonder if your word choice is intentional or simply an attempt to be irrational and condescending."

"Ah!" the Author pumped his hoof in glee. "But you see there is a third door: both!"

The Publisher patted the stained manuscript. This time it had a notable area burned, another spot splattered with machine-smelling fluid, and metal shavings fell from the stack like steel snowfall. "And I wonder that as well as I read your submission."

"Yes, yes. Quite so," the Author said as he stroked his imaginary beard. "I do say it's"-

"Incomprehensible!" roared the Publisher.

He slammed the stack, sending a spray of metal across his desk. "What is this? We seem to have left the realm of fiction, taken a left at fantasy, and then made a bathroom break at supernatural! Have you no sense of planning, of organization?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?" the Author said, his voice still distorted by the gas mask.

The Publisher rose, completely this time. "NO!"

"Well I'm glad you asked!"

A head met hooves with a whimpered: "Oh noooo."

"For you see, fantasy is but a blurred line away from supernatural."

Unconsciously, The Publisher reached into his secret drawer's secret drawer and groped around for his emergency emergency bottle of...medicinal whiskey. His feeling grew more frantic as he failed to find the bottle. Finally, he felt a narrow slip of paper.

The Author kept yammering about the need for literature to ask the important questions: what lay beyond this world, why were we here, is there some greater meaning to life, where do the left socks go after the wash?

Frankly, the Publisher could not care. He pulled the paper out. It showed a sponge covered in tinsel and soaked in hot chocolate. The Author's signature graced the corner of the picture.

In all this time, the Author had not stopped his monologue. Something primal in the Publisher snapped. He whipped the weapon out and acted. The empty bottle sailed from his hooves and smacked the Author in the head.

The gas mask sailed away, and the Author's right eye twitched. "Rude."

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Well, sorry for the delay. Meant for this to be ready by the first of January and make a fashionably late Christmas reference and so on. For a variety of reasons, that didn't happen. Last half of December got really busy, and most of my free time lately has been sucked up copying/making more obsolete parts. Not the least of my issues was a terrible case of writer's block on this chapter. I think I got over it and made it work pretty well, but I shall leave that for you to decide.

I'm sure my rendition of the trees of life and knowledge are vaguely heretical, but I'll claim the sanctuary of creative license. I wanted this to be an "end of the line" of sorts where crisis came to a head and would change the characters for better or worse. That said, the Tree of Knowledge is not mentioned in Revelation. I just had to check.

We are nearing the end. I hope you lot enjoy it and whatever comes next. More ramblings to come in the next Author's Notes.