The Rejects: Enemy of the State

Chapters

02: The Recluse
03: Go For Broke
04: The God of Chaos
05: Bad Times at the Andromeda
06: The Dragon Queen
07: Crown of Thorns
09: Great and Powerful
10: The Princess Bride Pt. 1
11: The Princess Bride Pt. 2
08: The Butcher of the Sea
01: Payback

02: The Recluse

Blood gathered in the veils of gold tapestries, spilling down the east corridor steps, slithering deep into the castle crevices. There was screaming all about, directionless. In the dark, there sang a choir of crooning cries, cruel hymns that came closer to some bloody birthing beast than to a pony. But they were ponies no longer, Rarity supposed.

She stumbled over a corpse torn in two halves, left among the countless rank remnants that littered the hallways. Rarity caught herself before she could scream.

She could not recall when the bloodshed had begun, or when exactly she had lost her way in the palace passageways. Her eyes were red with tears, and every brief moment of silence was interrupted by some distant, distorted shriek. Soldiers’ shouted like barking dogs, while servants screamed and swords swept against stone.

Every crystal pony in the palace was to meet this terrible fate; anypony in the princess’ company had earned a place on the royal inquisition list. For what cause, Rarity could not begin to guess.

Rarity had tried the south exit, the east corridor, and finally the north-end tower emergency ladder, only to be met with the same result each time. The doors were all locked; the way was shut. And while she was once caught in the frenzy of crowds stampeding down the center steps, now the crowds had been thinned, scattered across the palace. Few crystal ponies had escaped the initial purge, and they were now left to hide away, while guards flooded each floor, peeling back furniture and breaking down doors.

Rarity reached to check for the letter Cadance had given to her, tucked away in her purse. She kept a tight hold of it, recalling Cadance’s request, the last thing she had said to her.

See that it reaches every pair of eyes in Equestria.

Rarity cursed herself for having approached Cadance at all. She could have remained silent, kept her front of obliviousness until the storm passed. She had known what Twilight was capable of. But now, wading through the blood, she had become better acquainted with her old friend’s true nature.

She feared for Sweetie Belle, who would be abandoned in the city, and her old friends back in Ponyville. Perhaps Twilight might spare her, she thought. But she expected that Ember and Thorax once believed the same.

Rarity hid around a corridor corner, waiting for a patrol of royal guards to finish marching by. She peeked her head out for a quick look, careful not to lose her balance.

She recognized this vestibule as one she had been just a half-hour earlier, only now the marble floor was stained red, and the columns wept bloody teardrops down their grooves.

Silver Stream, Ocellus, and Ocean Flow were among a small group of creatures being led to safety by some royal guards, and the young hippogriff princess’ resting smile had long left her face.

And there was Featherglass in the corner, watching while the guards busily kept about their work.

Rarity watched a small group of crystal pony servants held together in a weeping huddle, where some still refused to let their foals be ripped out of their grasp.

The foals were dragged off with the soldiers, slumped over shoulders, or scraped against stone. Mothers cried out in anguish. The crystal soldiers fared the worst - a two-horse cart of dismemberments was left outside the bedchambers, reeking of maggot meat and dripping shimmering crystal blood.

Rarity recoiled in disgust, and kept on her way, hoping to find the westbound stair-tower at the end of the hall.

She jumped in fright, as a pony came toppling out over a stacked pile of crystal pony corpses, which blocked off the entirety of an adjacent doorway. He had come from the north-end tower, she reasoned, where she had just escaped from.

Rarity’s eyes widened.

His hide gave it away - he was a crystal guard, one of the royal hunting party’s prey.

His fur was matted in blood, though she could not tell whether it was his own. He was young, no more than a recruit. The pony was trembling in place as he hid behind the clump of dead ponies, likely composed of his friends and comrades. He lay down on his side to stay hidden behind the pile, which rose close to four feet up the height of the doorframe.

His eyes flashed towards her, terrified.

He mouthed some words to her, though Rarity was too distracted to pay him any more attention.

On the other side of the corpse mound, a trio of guards was approaching from the shadows. One carried a torch, the other a spear, and the one in the middle, a sword.

Rarity recognized the middle guard, Styles, one of Twilight’s favored knights. As for the blood on his coat, this time she knew with certainty that it was not his.

“Ah, Rarity,” Styles said, reflexively reaching for one of his underlings’ cloaks to wipe the blood off his sword, “You’ve picked a dreadful time to visit.”

Rarity caught her breath, struggling to keep her composure.

“I was only just leaving,” Rarity said.

“Of course,” Styles said, sheathing his sword, “You wouldn’t have seen a pony just come by here? He might’ve been in a hurry.”

“I can't imagine why,” Rarity said, glancing at the guard’s spear.

“Where’s he gone, Rarity?” Styles asked, dryly.

If she was ever to take a stand against Twilight’s tyranny, now may have been the time.

She could be free of all this treachery, she thought to herself. She could stand beside Twilight as she had for years, nevermind recent events. She might have been content to be a coward then, if it meant living without fear of Twilight’s retribution

She glanced at the crystal pony hiding just a few feet from where Styles stood.

And her heart softened then, and she glared back at Styles, whose cocky grin still made her uneasy.

“Down that way, I saw him,” Rarity said, nodding off towards a stray westbound corridor.

Below her gaze, the crystal pony exhaled silently, devastatingly relieved.

Styles nodded his head, gratefully, and trotted off down that hall with his companions.

When the sound of hoofsteps subsided in the dark, Rarity reached down for the crystal pony’s hoof.

She helped him to his hooves, and marveled at the unlikelihood of him having even survived to this end.

“I know a way,” the pony said, between rasped breaths, “Come with me.”

Rarity’s breath quickened, and she reluctantly took hold of his hoof.

They fled down the passage, while the rats descended from the dark to feast on their bounty of blood.

Across the palace, Wedge Ward was shoving past crowds of frightened nobles scurrying about, making his way towards the royal council chamber.

He was accompanied by his former squire, now his second-in-command, a green-maned stallion with a faint fern coat, who was called Vertigo. He had a handsome, clean-shaven face, and a pair of bright eyes. He was young for his rank, and by the skip in his step, ignorant of the palace’s somber dawn.

“It was a slaughter,” Wedge said, “Forty-eight in all, he made a public show of it.”

Vertigo glanced at Wedge, struggling to keep up while the pair stormed up a flight of stairs.

“The apartments have been painted red, they say,” Wedge continued.

At last they burst through the council chamber doors, while Wedge continued his murmurings.

“He cannot be allowed to persist with unbridled insolence.”

But the council table had more seats than normal that day, and by chance the subject of Wedge’s grievances was present to overhear.

Styles had a sultry grin on his face, as if amused by Wedge’s chidings.

“Please, carry on about my insolence,” Styles chirped.

Featherglass and Marius Moonshine sat on either side of Styles, while Princess Twilight herself sat at the far end of the table.

Wedge moved to sit opposite to Styles, alongside Vertigo and Lieutenant Venger, who was already present, picking at her hooves.

Wedge glared at Styles, and then to Twilight.

“Captain, be seated,” Twilight said, silencing Wedge before he could offer any complaints.

Wedge obliged, scowling all the way, while Styles’ smirk intensified.

“Your platoon made quite the impression last night,” Wedge said.

“Did they?” Styles asked.

“Your orders were to take Princess Cadance’s company into custody, not butcher them in their beds for sport.”

“The price for treason is clear,” Styles said, “I spared all the ponies who agreed to come willingly. Few did.”

“You made a spectacle of brutality,” Wedge said.

“Enough,” Twilight said, “It's over."

Wedge slowly sat back in his seat, begrudgingly.

“Your grace,” came Lieutenant Snowfall Glitter, who wore a coat of white, with a pale blonde mane and eyes of icy blue, “Discretion and fealty have been assured for every one of the city’s nobles, present for the arrest or not. Their residences are all under guard, and communication has been severed. Whatever they think they know, will be kept to themselves.”

“A relief, then, that they’ve seen reason,” Twilight said, “In spite of foul rumors and sedition.”

Snowfall bit her lip.

“...There were some who bore reluctance. Or refused, even. I had them brought to the palace cells.”

Twilight glanced at the ground, and sighed silently.

“I had expected as much,” Twilight said, “Choose three for the gallows. Be clean and be quick. Make it known what fate befalls a traitor.”

Snowfall was speechless, glancing at Wedge, and then back to Twilight, before nodding, hesitantly.

“...Yes, Princess.”

“What news from the North?” Twilight asked.

“Word of the arrest should be reaching them shortly,” Marius said.

“Prepare a messenger to the Crystal Empire,” Twilight said, revealing her sealed letter. She placed it in front of Marius. “I want Princess Flurry Heart relocated here, to the capital.”

“...The northerners are a suspicious folk, your grace,” Marius said, “They are likely to take such a request as a threat.”

“My brother rules the empire in Cadance’s absence,” Twilight said, firmly, “He wouldn’t turn against me.”

“Your grace,” came Vertigo, leaning forward. The young lieutenant was little more than a stranger to Twilight.

“Forgive me, but, regardless of precautions, the threat of war looms,” Vertigo said, “Your brother’s love for you may not be enough to hold the North at bay. The crystal ponies may see through this deception, and demand justice for their princess. All it takes is one kingdom to declare against you, and Equestria will collapse upon itself.”

“I’m well aware, Captain Vertigo,” Twilight said, dryly.

“The southern border is weak. The dragons still pose a threat, and the south does not have the support it needs to withstand an invasion.”

“The Velvet Regiment holds the border.”

“These are dragons, your grace,” Vertigo said, “Changelings, hippogriffs, the Crystal Empire…Of all the potential enemies laid out before us, dragons are the greatest threat. The Velvets will be crushed.”

Twilight shook her head.

“Sending more troops south will tip the dragons over the edge. They’re waiting for us to make a move, waiting for a reason to strike. I won’t give it to them just to appease a heedless appetite for war.”

“War is already upon us,” Vertigo said, and was amazed he even had to say it.

Wedge glanced at him, prompting a retreat from the confrontation.

“Idleness has riled the blood in your veins,” Twilight said, “I will keep you occupied, then. You will take your regiment to Irwind, Captain, to hold the western coast.”

Wedge gritted his teeth, cursing his pupil for his hot-blooded instigation.

“Your grace, there is no threat by the west,” Vertigo said, plainly.

“That remains to be seen,” Twilight replied.

Vertigo did not understand, though knew his mind was of no consequence, as Wedge often reminded.

He glared at Wedge, and then back to Twilight, bitterly impotent in his cause for action.

“As you wish,” he muttered.

From across the table, Featherglass eyed the boy, who was struggling to keep his mouth shut.

“See to it that letter reaches the North by the morrow, Marius,” Twilight said, “I want Flurry Heart here, at my side, before the moon turns.”

Marius nodded, warily.

“It will be done.”

Snowflakes danced between twisted branches, among the billowing mist that drowned the old grey woods. The cold had invaded her dreams, painting a grey waste with coarse strokes of white. There, behind iron bars, atop buried bones, she held herself against the soft light of the sky.

She awoke in a restless stir, as if having expected to trip into a bottomless pit.

Starlight Glimmer gasped for breath, relieved that her nightmares had finally let her be.

Whispering winds wound their way between stale tree bark, reaching her where she lay in a small ridge-side cave, a meek shelter that she could not recall having found.

Starlight sat herself up against the wall of the cave, mere yards from where the snow came to an abrupt halt beneath the cave’s upper lip. Pale milklight poured into the cave, and the woods themselves were deathly quiet, without a single sign of life.

All she could hear was her breath, rasped and shuddering.

She glanced down at her wounds, and was bewildered to find they had all healed. Her torn and bruised flesh was sealed and cleaned, despite having just earlier been a twisted mess of blood and ruptured tissue.

Starlight shook her head in disbelief, before she remembered the last thing she had seen before falling under. That ghastly grin, those golden eyes, she wasn’t quite sure whether she had imagined him or not.

Discord.
Starlight swiveled her head back and forth, searching for the draconequus, but was still too weak to make any drastic movements.

“Ah, finally,” came a bellowing voice from deeper within the cave.

Starlight sighed, too exhausted to humor any theatrics.

She waited for him to step out from the darkness, only to be caught by surprise when a shadow abruptly lept overtop her from the cave’s entrance.

She turned to face him, her eyes wide and terrified - she knew not whether he was her friend or foe at the moment, and she was far too weary to put up much of a fight.

“Aw, why the long face?” Discord said, slithering into the cave. He wore a thick scarf around his neck, and a puffy winter coat, “You’re hardly dressed for the weather, my dear.”

He snapped his fingers, and in a flash of light, a thick wool blanket appeared over Starlight’s lap, along with a mug of hot coffee in her hoof.

Starlight begrudgingly took sips of the drink, desperate for some heat and nourishment.

“What are you doing here, Discord?” Starlight muttered, glaring at him.

“I see that good manners are still lost on you,” Discord rolled his eyes, “What kind of friend would I be if I were to leave poor Starlight Glimmer out to freeze to death?”

“We are not friends,” Starlight snapped.

“On the contrary, it seems I’m the only one you’ve got left.”

Starlight lowered her head.

“I said it from the start, didn’t I? It was only a matter of time before Twilight would crack,” Discord said.

“She’s perfectly sane,” Starlight corrected, “That’s the problem.”

Discord scoffed.

“It’s admirable that you defend her, truly. Seems some ponies are still thirsty enough to drink seawater,” Discord remarked.

Starlight sighed, and she could feel her blood begin to run hot once again.

“...Why are you helping me?”

Discord shrugged.

“Too much potential to go to waste, I suppose,” Discord said.

Starlight laughed, amused.

“It’s over now,” Starlight said, “She’s won.”

“Not without costs,” Discord said, “...Our poor friend Spike seems to have been caught in the crossfire.”

“Spike?” Starlight repeated, horrified, “He had nothing to do with any of this!”

“Someone must have disagreed.”

Starlight fell back against the cave wall, distraught. It couldn’t have been Twilight, despite her apparent propensity for violence. Spike was too dear to her.

Something must have gone wrong.

“Equestria is soon to plummet into war, and for once it’s not my doing,” Discord said, “It would seem your heroics may be needed.”

Starlight glared at him, while she shivered against the cold stone of the cave.

“I’m not a hero, and Equestria doesn’t need me. And I know better than to think you care either way. Your only interest is in yourself.”

“As much as you and I have had our differences,” Discord said, “I have never doubted your worth. And, as it is, Twilight Sparkle poses a threat to both of us.”

“You’re afraid of her, that’s it,” Starlight realized.

Discord’s scowl hardened, bereft.

“If you won’t fight for your own sake, then consider Equestria’s,” Discord countered, “Hundreds of thousands will die, if war breaks out.”

“I won't make a difference,” Starlight said, “I can’t stop her! Nopony can.”

“Everyone has a weakness,” Discord said, “And my guess is hers ought to do with the very cause for this deception.”

Starlight shook her head.

However, she began to recall their very last conversation, and Starlight could just barely remember what was spoken.

“Before she left me,” Starlight said, “She…she was speaking in riddles. Something about an impossible choice. A great enemy. Celestia - she said Celestia was afraid of something. It’s what made her give up the throne…”

Starlight glanced back to Discord, half-expecting him to make sense of her ramblings.

“Does any of that mean anything to you?” Starlight asked.

“In my lifetime, I’ve known many-an-alicorn made a slave to their portents and prophecies...But, dare I admit, my knowledge is limited. Perhaps it would be wiser to go to the source.”

“To Celestia and Luna?” Starlight said, startled by the prospect.

“Equestria’s falling apart at the seams, and they’re nowhere to be found. Certainly strange.”

“I could’ve said the same for you,” Starlight said.

“This was never my fight,” Discord said, smirking, “I’m only helping a friend in need, you see.”

“Right,” Starlight said, dryly, while her heart began to sink, “...I shouldn’t have gone after her in the open like that...I should’ve stuck with my friends.”

“You survived, which is more than I expected,” Discord said, “Now we might want to figure out the truth of all this first, before running willingly to our deaths.”

Starlight struggled against the wall cave, pulling herself up to her hooves.

The fire had returned to her veins, and for a moment the cold had escaped her. She eyed him, and wondered what this little partnership might yet discover.

Matchlight wept in the dark of the den, acquainting itself with Suri Polomare’s last cigarette.

She took a great deep breath, while the silky bands of smoke disappeared into the dark.

Hazy flashes of orange and violet waded in through the window, with each firework crack. The tableside candles were trembling, dripping white wax. Past the basement brick, the Victory Day festival had taken the city, and the streets were flooded with ponies. Soft scents of sweetbread and sugar had made their way inside, along with the low beat of drums and pricking of strings.

Nearby, Sunset Shimmer’s eyes glided between the three photographs laid out on the table, each depicting a different angle of what remained of the late Razor Blade and his companions. The grizzly gore on display failed to phase her.

Lightning Dust, Kickstart, and Bon Bon were nearby on one of the ragged red couches, digging their hooves into Mandola’s surplus stock of throw-away bread.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Suri warned, “This place won’t be home for long.”

“That’s a shame. I was just getting used to the smell,” Sunset replied.

“I’ve been thinking, and…now that Razor Blade’s dead, there’s nothing stopping us from leaving the city,” Suri continued, “We should cut ourselves loose, start somewhere new.”

“What, so run away?” Lightning countered, with a mouthful of bread, “No way."

“Better to run now while we can,” Suri rebutted.

Sunset shook her head, sipping at her glass of water.

“We wouldn’t make it far,” Sunset chimed, “Twilight’s got soldiers to spare. It’s a miracle you’ve lasted as long as you have.”

“No thanks to you,” muttered Wallflower Blush. Sunset jumped in her seat; she had not realized Wallflower had joined them by the cracked coffee table.

“Ah, Basket Case. What’s today’s sermon?”

“You’ve been gone for weeks,” Wallflower said, “After leaving us for dead, if I remember right.”

Sunset grinned.

“Nothing I knew you couldn’t handle,” she replied.

Wallflower took a deep breath, working up the courage to raise her voice.

“You know that Starlight-”

“Starlight’s dead,” Sunset interrupted, “I warned her what would happen. If she’d listened to me, she’d still be alive.”

“Like you fared any better,” Wallflower laughed, “Twilight’s still sitting on that throne, last time I checked.”

“I’m still breathing. Which is more than Starlight can say.”

Lightning adjusted herself in her seat, uneasily. Beside her, Bon Bon’s eyes darted between the two of them, warily.

“I’m not just going to pretend that everything is alright again," Wallflower said, "Right now, we could do some real good, earn the second chance we got. But if we follow you, all we’re going to do is hurt ponies.”

Sunset flashed her teeth, amused.

“And who else should we follow?”

Wallflower’s words were caught in her throat, and she cursed herself, unable to speak up on her own behalf.

“If the two of you are quite finished,” Suri said, intervening before Wallflower’s blood reached its boiling point, “We’ve got more pressing problems at the moment, ‘kay….”

Sunset sat back against the couch, sighing.

“Starlight was as much a match for Twilight as I am, and look how that turned out,” Sunset said, and her voice ached with regret, “We’re going to have to be smarter.”

“What do you have in mind?” Bon Bon asked.

“Well….” Sunset began, stealing a chunk of bread from an unsuspecting Lightning Dust.

“Hey!”

"That flash drive, you've still got it?" Sunset asked.

All eyes turned to Bon Bon, who was busy tinkering with some pieces of scrap metal.

"Almost died getting this," Bon Bon said, revealing the drive from her satchel. She tossed it to Sunset, "It better be worth it."

"It will be," Sunset said, "I'm sending this to the press. Now all of Equestria's going to know all the secrets Posh and Ember and all those unfortunate souls died for. I'd give anything to see the look on Twilight's face," Sunset grinned.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Suri asked, "If Twilight finds out it was us, we'll have an even bigger target on our back."

"What have we got to lose?" Sunset asked, "We're living in a crook's basement, for Luna's sake."

Suri sighed, and relented.

"As much as I'd love to stick it to Twilight Sparkle for everything she's put us through," Wallflower said, "We do have some more immediate concerns. Somepony's hunting us down."

"And we're gonna figure out who, and why, and how best set a trap for them," Sunset said.

“You want us to hunt down the ponies who are hunting us down?” Bon Bon laughed, "It could be royals, it could be gangsters, but whoever it is, they'll kill us."

“Better than staying sitting ducks,” Sunset supposed.

“Whoever it is, they’re in for a Category Five surprise,” Lightning grinned, throwing some punches in the air, “This will be a cinch.”

“It would be, if you could ever stick to theplan,” Suri muttered, rolling her eyes.

“Like your plans ever work anyways, Suri,” Lightning scoffed.

“I’d write out instructions, if you knew how to read them,” Suri snickered.

“How about you read this,” Lightning growled, preparing to throw another punch.

She was stopped by Sunset, catching Lightning’s hoof in an aura of blue magic.

“...Why don’t you sit this one out,” Sunset said, and her eyes burned a hole in Lightning’s forehead.

“But-”

“We’ll be alright. You and Kickstart should stay here with the filly,” Sunset said, glancing at Scootaloo, whose wispy snores could be heard from the broom closet she called her bedroom.

“And where are you off to?” Kickstart asked.

“If we want the upper hoof, we’re going to need some help. Lucky us, I know just the pony for the job.”

Sunset collected each of the photographs, stacking them up and stuffing them in her black duffel bag. Bon Bon and Suri were busy collecting their belongings as well, though Wallflower remained as she was, unmoving.

Sunset caught the earth pony out of the corner of her eye, and straightened herself up in passing.

“You coming?”

Sunset trotted past her with a breezy shove to the shoulder.

Before Wallflower could hang her head in defeat, Lightning had come by her way.

“...Hey, uh, you alright?” Lightning asked, hesitantly.

“I’m fine,” Wallflower growled, though Lightning suspected otherwise.

“You know, If she talked to me that way, I’d-” Lightning began, puffing out her chest.

“I know,” Wallflower interjected, coaxingly, and she appreciated the effort, “Just don’t burn the place down while we’re gone.”

Wallflower planted her last chunk of bread in the pegasus’ hooves.

Lightning grinned.

“No promises.”

Wallflower glared at Sunset as she walked off, descending deeper into the shadows of the basement with each step. Her voice echoed on through the brick, and the candle trembled in fright until its flame fell dead.

“Let’s go visit an old friend.”

Cigar smoke swept her off her hooves, bathed in fluorescence and scuffed by table-dust.

Half-a-mile deep in the earth, locked in monochromatic, the Erased’s subterranean headquarters was hardly hospitable. But for the likes of Trixie Lulamoon, this place was becoming something of a home.

She was late to the meeting, having just recently discovered her attendance was requested. A series of wrong turns later, and Trixie found herself the only pony in the meeting not clad in a steam-pressed suit.

Alias was reclining at the far end of the chamber’s long table, breathing smoke from his snout. His eyes led her toward an open seat, in between the green pegasus Slick, and the Amity Stiletto, a light-pink pegasus with a wavy reddish-pink mane. Trixie found herself sitting with her back to the great glass panels that made up the right-side wall, overlooking the bustling, sunken command center down below.

“Glad you made it,” Amity whispered.

Trixie smiled; Amity was one of the few Erased ponies willing to speak more than a few words to her.

“The situation has changed,” Alias said, dourly, as soon as Trixie had taken her seat.

Trixie tried to sink lower in her chair, catching sight of some of the other agents’ hostile glances. Trixie wished to glare back at them, though she reminded herself she was supposed to be on her best behavior.

Sweat had dried down on the old stallion’s forehead, nearby a throbbing vein. He bit down on his cigar, ripped it from his mouth, and stamped it in his tray, as if requiring something to destroy.

“Every pony within earshot of Cadance’s outburst has been put under house arrest,” Alias explained, “Every one of her guards has been killed or arrested.”

Trixie watched the ponies at the table begin murmuring and whispering to each other, all of them horrified. Trixie had expected as much; why would Cadance succeed where Starlight hadn’t? They were fighting a losing battle, as far as she was concerned. Still it brought her some level of satisfaction; for once she wasn’t the only pony to be outdone by Twilight at every turn.

Trixie’s scowl hardened. That insufferable, murdering hag had gotten everything she had ever wanted, she thought. All while she had to fight for every meal, struggle to get by, and still all just to lose what little she had, again. This time would be different, she told herself. It had to be.

Alias was unmoving while the room gradually fell into a cacophony of arguments and panic.

His gruff, growling voice snapped them all back to attention.

“We’ve found there was one soldier who escaped,” Alias said, “He had help from a friend of Twilight’s - our former guest. They were seen fleeing together through a sewer grate in Muletown.”

Trixie’s ears perked up.

“Rarity?”

“Starlight Glimmer’s recklessness is infectious,” Alias scowled, “Cadance was seen exchanging a letter to dearest Rarity, shortly before her arrest.”

“A letter?” Slick inquired.

“Cadance’s contingency plan, I suspect,” Alias said.

“How did you come by this?” asked Amity.

“One of our ponies came south in Cadance’s company. Escaped before the bloodbath.”

“What about Cadance?” Trixie offered, confused, “We’ve got to rescue her, right?”

Alias sat back in his chair, and his eyes drifted towards the ground.

“We can’t be certain where she is, at present. Or if she’s still alive.”

“Twilight wouldn’t-”

“By now it’s a sure thing, there’s no depravity Twilight Sparklewouldn’t indulge,”Alias spat, bitterly.

“That letter will be the death sentence to hundreds of thousands, if it reaches the eyes of Equestria’s enemies,” Slick said, redirecting Alias’ train of thought, “If it says just half as much as what she said in that throne room, by tomorrow war will have been declared. Equestria is a tinderbox, and that letter is the match.”

Trixie spun her head towards him, and then around the room, shocked.

“Ponies trust Cadance, they’ll believe what she has to say. This is the chance to tell the world what Twilight really is!” Trixie exclaimed, “And you’re passing it up, just like that?”

“It’s not that simple,” Alias muttered, “A better opportunity will present itself. I thought by now you’d have learned from Starlight’s mistakes. It’s better to be patient.”

Trixie scoffed, and retreated from the conversation, before she could allow herself to fly into a fit of rage.

“Flamberge,” Alias said, turning his attention to a broad stallion bearing a fiery head of red hair, and a pale blue coat, “You’re to return back to your post in the royal guard. Keep an eye on Twilight, and those close to her.”

Flamberge nodded his head. He had grown weary of these sullen scheming Erased agents, anyways.

“And me, Chief?” asked Amity. Aside from Flamberge, she was the only other field agent present.

Alias’s breath slowed, and his eyes narrowed in on Amity, who was by far the youngest in the room. She still had a soft smile to her, while her colleagues seemed to have already given up to grey disillusionment.

“...Your last mission cost me my best stallion,” Alias said, dismissively, and his face became twisted with grief, “You’re better needed here.”

“He could still be alive,” Amity said, and she too missed Bandolier, who she had once called a friend, “If you would let me look for him, I-”

“You’ve done enough,” Alias countered, “Our mission now is to put a stop to this war before it falls out of our control completely. Acorn, I want you to find Cadance’s little errand-girl, and bring her here, with the letter intact.”

Acorn, a brown earth pony who had only been half-paying attention, nodded his head.

“Now, if that would be all,” Alias finished, and everypony at the table rose from their seats.

Trixie lingered, however, her eyes darting back and forth across the table.

Alias had noticed her, however, and stayed seated.

He waited for the others to clear the room, until just the two of them remained.

“We play a dangerous game. Better to tread with caution.”

“Right. And tell me, how exactly has that worked out for you so far?” Trixie asked.

Alias was disarmed by the rebuke, and watched as Trixie rose from her chair.

“You told me you needed me. What for? Just to fill in for one of your mindless yes-ponies?”

“Precisely the opposite,” he said, “I need a pony to keep my head on straight. Too many think it wiser to follow, blindly. I have eyes and ears in every corner of the land. It’s all too easy to make a mistake, a costly mistake. I thought you could be the pony to keep me from falling astray.”

“Then let me.”

Alias shook his head, impulsively.

“Gore, Starlight, Cadance…They all thought like you did. Look where it got them.”

“Whatever’s at the heart of this, whatever made Twilight lose her mind in the first place…We’re never going to find out by letting her get what she wants,” Trixie said, “She wanted to play with fire, all you need to do is let her get burned. And maybe things will make more sense.”

“And how many ponies will need to die, so things can make more sense?” Alias asked.

Trixie glanced off to the side, meekly.

“You can’t enable Twilight forever,” Trixie said, scornfully, “A line’s got to be drawn at some point. And the longer you wait, the worse things will be, when that pot finally boils over. Twilight’s a ticking time-bomb.”

Alias sighed, and winced for a brief moment. Trixie saw the pain of an old stallion, then, his legs buckling beneath him, his thin pale flesh withered and weak.

“I can’t put Equestria to the torch,” Alias said, “I won’t.”

He glanced at her, regretfully, and trotted past her, stumbling in his step.

Trixie turned to watch him limp out through the chamber door.

But where Starlight and Cadance had failed, Trixie saw a new opportunity, perhaps one irresistible.

She smiled to herself, figuring her chance of defeating Twilight once for all was within her reach.

And all she would have to do is find that letter.

Sand-grain and gravel greeted him on the forest brook shores of the Silver Strait. Blood trickled down his brow, while his open cuts stained the waters red. With a rigid grip, Bandolier tore into the shoreline sand, dragging himself towards the woods over the rise. The waters behind him were roaring, ravaging past jagged great stones that loomed below the Smoky Mountains’ shadow. His curly mud-brown mane was ragged and sopping wet, as was his beard. His faint-brown coat was speckled with dirt and river stones, dug deep into his skin. He stripped out of his waterlogged vest, tore off his black jacket, and unfastened his tie. He groaned and reached for the collar of his shirt, torn from a rock that had left a gash on his neck.

For a moment he imagined Clover was beside him. No, he recalled, she stayed behind, she bought him time. He let loose a string of curses under his breath; for all the trouble that bratty assassin had caused him, he would be damned to let her save his life at the cost of her own. Her plan did not seem so sound to him, either; he was lucky to survive the fall from Lavender’s palace to the river, let alone the journey downstream.

He fell into a coughing fit as soon as his legs gave out, collapsing into the sand.

She could be dead by now, he realized. He felt weak all of a sudden, and he thought of Alias, of Amity. They were within their rights to abandon him and leave him for dead, he told himself, that was just protocol. He was expendable, as Clover was so keen on reminding him. But he had never felt expendable, not until about the third boulder he had smashed into on his way down the river.

His thoughts wandered to Lavender, the fair Lady of Silkwood, who had deceived him the whole while. He cursed himself for having saved her life to begin with. Lavender, Twilight Sparkle, Blueblood, and however many others were not the creatures he had thought. Perhaps Alias was no different. The pony who had picked him off the streets, the pony who offered him the closest idea of a family he could ever have hoped to have, the pony who gave him a roof to sleep under. But none of that was home, not really. It was never real, he thought then, it was just as Clover said, a trick to fool ponies into throwing their lives away. He could taste death on his lips, and so he wanted nothing more than to rid himself of his tongue completely. I can't go back, he thought. There is nothing for me there. Alias had left him to die. Had Amity done the same? He would never have hesitated to go back for her if the roles were reversed, he knew it firmly in his heart. He had always thought the Erased had given him a life worth living; now all he knew for certain was that they took away all the life he had once had, under that humble name, now lost for good. Bandolier was long dead.

He carried himself towards the bank, growling like a rabid animal while he struggled to regain his strength.

Over the bank, his hopes returned, noticing smoke over the tree line, and praying that wherever he was, the ponies were friendly.

Green glass ornaments hung by the candle's glow, shivering by wood-board-creaks and lickspittle speeches. Bandolier glanced about the place, half-mindful of the hazy veil draped over his eyes. There were no windows in the tavern, tangled in its mist-mored tide, a dark place distinct for its tarry reek and its drunken quartet of string singers. There was a dense cloud of sea-salt musk that roamed about the moldy wood. Nopony knew what time of day it was, while ponies lingered on atop their seashell stools and drank their island rum. The bay waters swelled and swelled somewhere nearby, and a pair of gulls had found their way inside, perched on the same rafter beam.

The tavern bore the shape of an old ship hull, and the floorboards were wet with spilled drink. There was merriment all around, ponies and creatures of strange origins sharing old sea stories in glad tiding, or else warning each other of what a brawl would bring about.

Braised in the sand, the sea-stained, surly ilk of thieves, pirates, and other rotten characters were all gathered here, drowning in ocean cider and blue tonic. Sharpened boots, bludgeoned eyes, pretty young things and rotten old sots came into a dizzy dance of delirium.

Bandolier sat in one of the back-corner booths, near a barnacled sea-beast’s skull hanging up on the wall and an orange oil lamp fixture. He was mesmerized by the bizarre beauty of the scene, the roaring of the crowd and the rancid fog that swept the tavern in thick wafts of smoke, stained green by the candles’ glass casings.

The seabirds mewled and swooped by his head, unnerved by the center-floor commotion. Bandolier spat out some curses, and swatted at the air, missing each time.

Matters of six-bit ale were soon made moot, when he hungered for more stale bread.

Bandolier was soon lost to the madness of the crowd, drunkenly dodging the odd tossed bottle, dollop of spit, or bloody lost tooth. Above the center deck, the polished carcass of a great white shark hung from the rafters, bearing two black harpoon holes in its snout.

Bandolier avoided a tumbling scuffle between the Serenity’s first mate and second mate, as he made his way to the bar, stocked with exotic liquors from across the sea. His eyes grew wide, torn over the maroon-glass flasks of Casaflankan Mahia, and the old leather flagons of Zebrabwean mead.

But it was a mare who first caught his eye, clad in a scarlet satin dress, with a head of black curls and eyes of moon-silver. Clover, was his first thought, but they only shared a resemblance.

Bandolier stuck himself in her way, catching her eye before she could manage to drain her cup.

They nearly passed each other, before they half-spun back to see whether the other had made any attempt to catch their attention.

Waltzing back towards each other, the mare’s glare was fixed on him, while his eyes wandered about the room, aimlessly.

“Strangers in town don’t last long,” she said, putting the empty glass to her lips.

“Then let's not be strangers. I'm Bandolier."

"Satin," she introduced, shaking his hoof, playfully. Lifting a glass of ale off of a waiter's passing plate, he offered it to her.

"Would you permit me?" he asked.

"I usually don't," she replied.

"I usually don't either."

"In that case," she said, accepting the drink.

"I have a habit of spoiling beautiful mares, if you have any pity for me you'll walk far away," Bandolier said, sheepishly.

"And spend the night alone?" she wondered, "I'm afraid I might get lonely."

"Well, we can't have that," Bandolier said, pressing himself closer toward her.

But he came up short, when somepony’s hoof took a hold of his shoulder. Spinning around, he was met by the grizzly twisted face of a stallion twice his size, grimacing down with gory scorn.

Bandolier couldn’t yet manage an explanation, before the stallion’s other hoof slammed into his snout, sending him tumbling backward into the crowd.

He landed on the splintery wooden floorboards with a devastating thud, while the crowd erupted in laughter.

Satin fell into the stallion’s arms, wistfully smirking down at Bandolier, whose nose was leaking blood, whose face was purpled into pulp.

She disappeared, dissolving back into the crowd, while Bandolier’s vision again drew hazy.

But his rage got the better of him then, and he sprang back to his hooves, dashing for the stallion with a haughty grunt.

He swung his hoof into the brute’s skull, knocking him into four others, who each joined the brawl.

Bandolier was caught between three of the brute’s lackeys, while the crowd began tearing itself apart.

Swinging madly, Bandolier accidentally dodged two thrown bottles of Newport ale, while suffering four blows to the skull. And he laughed and laughed, while he fell from left to right, buckling down to trip one stallion, while shoving another over a table into a wall of brick. The uproar had nearly encompassed the whole of the tavern, until at last one stallion managed to shatter a bottle over Bandolier’s head, and he came crashing to his knees, his mouth hung ajar, his eyes staring in two different directions.

The crowd gave a great cheer then, and Bandolier was promptly dragged by his hooves towards the back door. There, they swung him into the muddy lake of backwash swill. He landed with a sticky splash, and the crowd’s laughter rang in his ears even after they shut the door.

He groaned in agony, and twisted over to his back, sprawled out in the rain, which washed the muck and blood out of his eyes, enough that he could at least see straight once again.

He rued the day he had signed his life away to Alias, to the Erased, to all those promises. Perhaps Clover had been right about him, he thought, though such a concession made his stomach churn. His home was this muddy puddle of shit. His family were the pigs sleeping in the stable nearby. He had failed everypony else in his life, himself most of all, but he would not fail the pigs, he thought. It seemed that he could affect little else. He could have had said he still had his honor, but what had he ever known of honor? Could he have claimed honor in the scrum? It was honor of measly sorts, a wrong for a right, a good deed for glory, for reward. What else was there to pursue or defend, for a puny pony with no name, no family, no friends? The heroes he had once idolized were all wicked, the father he had grown up with had cast him out, his closest friend abandoned him. Where were the true heroes?

“Celestia be damned,” grumbled some voice from beyond Bandolier’s field of vision.

The pony made himself known, having stepped out the back door to stand over Bandolier, who was mumbling some curses under his breath, blinking wildly to make out the pony’s face.

The pony was a stranger, a portly fellow, with yellow-brown teeth, a thick brown beard of crumbs, and a faint lime coat.

“By Amphitrite, it's alive. Alright, come on now, lad,” the pony said, grabbing a hold of Bandolier, roughly. Bandolier floated up to his hooves, weakly, and reluctantly staggered along behind the pony.

The pony dragged Bandolier back into the tavern, and the crowd had already forgotten him, having returned to their merriment.

The pony sat them down in a dark velvet booth in the back of the tavern, far from the chaos by the bar.

Bandolier glanced away from the glass candle at the center of the table, searching for any
more ponies who might be standing in his way if he wished to escape. He had an awful taste in his mouth, and he did his best to scrape himself clean of his new coat of mud.

His rescuer snapped at a passing waitress, her messy blonde bun bouncing with each step. She had thick lashes and a stiff snout.

“Two pints of Seapony Tears for me and my friend here, Glitterbelle,” the pony said.

“Yes, sir,” replied the waitress, who promptly scurried off.

“Dreadful tease, that Glitterbelle. Gives the lads hell.”

“If your friends share your manners, I can see why,” Bandolier muttered, slurring his words.

The pony snickered.

“You think it wise to jape at me, boy? I could have you fed to the hounds, or chopped up and stirred into old Fig’s stew.”

“Best get on with it then. But first I’ll be having that pint.”

“Aye,” nodded the pony, as he sat back in the booth. “A foolish thing, picking a fight like that.”

“I’ve no stag’s luck, I think,” Bandolier replied, “Where am I?”

“Gooseneck, head of the south sea shore. Young Hickey’s got a cousin here - a cousin with daughters. The lads couldn’t help themselves but demand we make a pitstop,” the pony said, “Don’t dawdle, then. Here you are, dressed for dinner, wandering into town half-dead. Forgive my curiosity, lad.”

“My ventures proved unfruitful,” Bandolier explained.

“That I can believe,” the pony said, “You might be looking for an escape.”

Bandolier glared at him.

“If you’re proposing something, you’ll have to be more specific.”

“There’s a spot on my crew for you, if you’d like. I could use an able stallion. Got too many green colts who can’t hold a rope taut.”

“You’re a sailor?” Bandolier said.

“Scurvy, at your service. Captain of the Bronze Beauty. You might’ve heard of it.”

“I might’ve,” Bandolier replied, “Sailing where?”

“Down the coast to Augusta, then west across the sea, to Eris. Maretonia, more specifically.”

Bandolier's ears perked up. Across the sea.

“...I’ve heard rumors of something lurking there, on the far coast,” Bandolier said.

“It’s a dangerous place, surely. Whatever you’ve heard, it’s only half the truth.”

Bandolier glanced at the ground.

“What say you, lad? Are you with me? Or have I got to toss you back to the hounds?”

Bandolier’s eyes flickered back to Scurvy.

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Scurvy’s smile grew, and, they shook on the spot.

Fireflies blinked glitter-gold, rousing once the sun had disappeared over the hills. The Hazelwood was alive that night, where the rain-spotted leaves glowed red, gold, and brown in the waning moon’s gaze.

Juno’s legs had given out just an hour ago. From just over the tip of the treeline above, she swore she could make out the glimmering tip of the Canterlot palace, a lone star perched in the sky. Scattered, feathery clouds soared at wicked speeds, like black specters in the night.

Canterlot was her destination, by mere approximation; Juno knew little of the pony she was hunting, except for one key detail - Sunset Shimmer was a unicorn. And where better, she thought, was she to find a unicorn than the capital of Equestria.

While the leaves shuddered in the breeze, Juno stuck by the light of her lantern, continuing to toil over her fire. Crows, toads, and foxes chirped and croaked and cried from deeper in the woods, and there were other strange sounds that Juno could not recognize. The thought was unsettling, of what beasts lurked there in the dark, just beyond the dim glow of her lantern. She had heard terrible stories of fell creatures lurking in these woods, the type that might gobble up a pony like her without second thought.

Her attempts at a fire manifested into a measly pile of wet twig-tinder and crumpled red leaves. Her hooves ached after a full day of journeying, and by her guess she had only made it six miles out of Ponyville. Perhaps she was not yet far enough that she couldn’t turn back, and with every failed effort to cast just a single spark with her pair of rocks, the opportunity was made more and more attractive.

She shook her head and shut her eyes, and imagined her mother’s voice, beckoning her to return to where it was safe and warm.

I’m doing this for you, she thought. She did not believe her mother could hear her, though she hoped she was wrong,

There was a pleasant lull to the air, as it was prior to a terrible fit of rain. Hoping to avoid the oncoming downpours, Juno took to gathering some larger sticks to try and form a makeshift hut. While the wind had once brought her comfort, she began to feel a chill, and knew she would have to hurry if she wished to outrun the storm.

Once, twice, three times she tried to construct a place to sleep under, and each time with little in the way of results.

“This is hopeless,” she muttered, struggling to dissuade herself from breaking down into tears.

At last she fell to the ground, defeated.

She dragged herself over to her duffel bag, and retrieved her pillow, planning to remain right there out in the open.

Still, sleep evaded her. She had taken up this foolish excursion on the promise of revenge, though she had yet to decide how exactly she would manage to best her enemy, that dreadful murdering witch.

Sunset Shimmer.

Juno was only an earth pony, after all. Though, as her father would often remind her, that just meant she would have to work twice as hard for what she wanted.

She sighed, deciding that she would have to tough out her first night exposed to the elements. But first, she settled on a midnight-snack, reaching for one of the berries she had picked earlier, stuffed in a small wicker pouch.

“Ugh!” she muttered, spitting it out as soon as she put it to her lips; its taste was foul, almost rancid.

Juno groaned and fell back against her pillow, tossing some leaves over her coat to help against the cold. Those leaves were promptly blown off by the breeze, and Juno shut her eyes even tighter, cradling herself, cursing Sunset Shimmer, Apple Bloom’s sister and her friends, and herself as well, for having been so stupid as to believe she would survive longer than a single day out on her own. She noticed the black-bead glare of Shorty, her beloved stuffed bear, whose head peaked out from her bag.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

Juno awoke early enough to see the sunrise, spared only an hour of sleep after enduring a night of windblown drizzle. Her coat was soaked, though she had managed to quench some of her thirst, having stuck her tongue out to catch the droplets mid-dair.

The sun peeked through billowing gold and white clouds that cast hallowed rays of light through the Hazelwood canopy. Morning dew and the night’s drizzle left the woods a shivering mess. Juno felt her stomach rumble as it had all night, though all she had brought to eat were cans of beans that she didn’t know how to open, and a bundle of apples, which she had eaten almost immediately after her departure.

Juno refused to risk eating any more berries, not since she had nearly fed herself poison, and yet she did not believe she could bring herself to hunt for an animal. She could only hope to come across some fruits or plants that would suffice, though her strength was already dwindling.

She found her lantern’s battery had already met an early demise. She packed it back in her duffel bag, hoping for a future chance to repair it. She finished by packing her pillow, which was once pure white prior to its forest-floor soiling.

Her legs still felt stiff, though she took off without much delay, promising herself that this brief hiccup would be worth it once she arrived in Canterlot.

She kept on through the woods, staggering with each step, wondering what first meal she would have upon her arrival in the capital. She had lived her whole life in Ponyville, only ever hearing second-hand stories and tall tales of what the rest of the world was like. And though thus far her experience was less than ideal, she was confident that she belonged anywhere but where she had come from.

But she had not made it more than a mile from the clearing, when she at last had to drop her bag off her shoulders.

She gasped for breath, and sat on top of it, wiping sweat from her brow, wiping off wet mud from her hooves and legs.

But she froze completely, when she heard a rustling in the leaves, somewhere behind her.

Juno’s eyes widened, and she subtly began scouring the woods for any further sign of movement. But she found nothing beyond the fallen leaves and the damp brown bark.

She slipped back into the straps of her duffel bag, and started off once again, this time at a quicker pace.

She knew she could hardly put up a fight under normal pretenses; but while starved and near-hypothermic, she knew she stood no chance against any beast of road thief.

But right after turning her head from behind her, she came face to face to a pony twice her size, standing directly in her way.

Juno shrieked and jumped back away from the pony, and almost toppled over when her duffel bag shifted weight.

The pony was blood-red in color, with a near-black mane cut short.

She watched helplessly from a few yards away, as three more ponies revealed themselves, two of which had a great wooden cart drawn to their necks, carrying barrels of spices and grain.

“Lost, girl?” came the blood-red stallion, grinning.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Juno replied, half-stumbling over her words. Her eyes darted madly between the four of them. She wouldn’t stand much of a chance against one, let alone the whole pack of them. Put she kept that to herself, and tried to mimic her father’s hardened glare, what her mother called the Eastwood stare.

“Awfully young to be on your own,” he continued.

“What’s it to you?” Juno snapped back.

The blood-red stallion grinned again, and he glanced back at his companions, all amused.

“Nopony should travel these roads alone. Especially a little thing like you,” the red stallion elaborated, “And, pardon me, but you look to be out of sorts.”

Juno ignored the slight, supposing he had a point; her bouncy brown curls were twisted and contorted after having been soaked through by the rain, and her coat was riddled with dirt and stray twigs.

“Thanks, but I don’t need help,” she insisted.

The red stallion’s smile fell from his face.

“Have it your way. But at least have something to eat. It would give me sleepless nights otherwise.”

Juno remained where she was, however. But as much as she wanted to refuse the offer, distrusting this quartet of strangers, her stomach begged her to reconsider.

Juno forced herself to give in, approaching the ponies, cautiously.

The red stallion stepped out of her way, raising his hooves to signal he was unarmed.

One of the other ponies, the youngest of them, a faint blue pony with a flowing mane of navy, fetched a slab of white bread from one of the sacks hanging off the cart. He tossed it to her, and she caught it with two shaky hooves. Juno scarfed the bread down without second thought. The strangers, the red stallion most of all, appeared amazed by her ferocity, as she tore the bread to shreds.

“Where’re your parents?” asked the navy-maned pony, softly.

Juno glared at him, deterring any subsequent interrogation.

“If you’re going to rob me, you’re in for disappointment,” Juno said, finishing the last crumbs of the bread, “I’ve got nothing you’d want.”

“In that, you’re right,” the red stallion laughed. He seemed to always be laughing. “Lucky for us we’re not thieves. We’re traders, on our way to Canterlot. The Gala’s less than two weeks away. Ponies from all over Equestria are on their way, and they’d be remiss to lose out on our stock.”

Juno glanced at the barrels of grain, and the sacks of breads, and could then make sense of it all.

“...It was very good,” Juno admitted sheepishly.

“My mother’s recipe,” came the navy-maned stallion. He had a simple smile to him, as if the most menial of happenings might bring him joy.

“Sorry if I…I didn’t mean to-” Juno began.

“Don’t trouble yourself,” the red stallion said, “I’m Hask. This is Tails,” he continued, glancing at the navy-maned stallion, and then at the other two, “Boze, and Bender.”

“I’m Juno,” she said, slightly eager for the prospect of traveling companions.

“I’m heading to Canterlot too,” she said.

“You should be heading to school, at your age,” muttered either Boze or Bender. Juno was not sure which was which.

“How about that,” Hask said, smiling, “Tell you what. We’ve got enough food for one more, and it’s less than a day more by hoof. You’re welcome to tag along.”

Juno glanced at the ground, and then at her mudstained hooves. She was taken with them, she supposed, though still found herself uneasy of the prospect.

But she knew she would not make it much longer on her own, whether she first got herself lost or collapsed from exhaustion. As much as she had her reservations, there seemed to be only one choice.

“Better make room for one more,” Juno said.

Hask nodded, approvingly.

Where she might have doubted how serious her revenge fantasy would end up being, for the first time ever the reality of her situation was dawning on her. She would not be so easily done away with.

Cobwebs crept in the black edges of the cell, where rats roamed with eyes of ruby-red. Princess Cadance recalled exploring these cold crypts during her childhood visits to the palace. Her parents may have grounded her for a lifetime after they caught her, if Princess Celestia hadn’t intervened.

She had been left there to rot in the darkest depths of the palace, facing a set of steel bars that peered into the void. Her breath was slow and ragged, and her whole body ached.

She lay against the cold dusty grip of stone, her ankles bound in thick chains, her horn sheathed in a metal magic restrictor.

Hoofsteps in the dark took her unaware; sound came clearer in the dark, though its origin remained a mystery.

By torchlight, the plump lavender face of Marius Moonshine revealed itself around the edge of her cell.

Cadance shut her eyes, before the sharp glow of the torch could blind her irreparably.

Without much delay, she found the strength to look him in the eye.

“You must be thirsty,” Marius said, revealing a small canteen of water. Cast in his purple aura, the canteen floated to Cadance’s lips, though she refused to drink.

Marius sighed, and took a sip of it himself.

Cadance relented, and dove into the canteen once it reappeared, desperate for a drink.

“Marius,” she muttered.

“Princess Twilight has decreed you’re not to be harmed. You have her word.”

“Her word,” Cadance repeated, “And what good is that?”

Marius dimmed his horn.

“And what about my guards? My servants?” Cadance asked.

“Your household has been confined or killed, it grieves me to say. I do so hate the sight of blood.”

Cadance fell back against the stone, distraught.

“My ponies were slaughtered and you did nothing?”

“My trade is in secrets. Not blood.”

Cadance took another drink of the canteen.

“I warned you against recklessness. You’ve sent fifty ponies to the grave in less than a day.”

“Blood will have blood,” Cadance muttered.

Marius glanced to the ground.

“Your days draw fewer, I fear.”

“Twilight wouldn’t hesitate to kill me, if that was her intent,” Cadance said, “She would sooner give up this farce than make the Crystal Empire her enemy.”

“In that, you’re correct.”

Marius revealed a small sheet of parchment, lifting it towards the light for Cadance to read.

“Summon Flurry Heart to Canterlot,” Cadance read, and her eyes shot up to Marius, “If she lays a hoof on that girl-”

“Twilight means it as an insurance of loyalty.”

Cadance shook her head, shocked.

“...I suggest a different course, however,” Marius said, “Send a letter of your own. Make it your command that no action is to be taken, that no armies be gathered. Call for peace. I will make sure it reaches your husband’s eyes, and his alone.”

“And why would I do that?”

Marius narrowed his gaze.

“The Crystal Empire will prove a powerful foe for Twilight, should it come to war - a war likely fought on your account. But you know better than anypony now, of Twilight’s true nature. She will burn the North, leave it only ash and bone. Hundreds of thousands will die, on either side. Your husband, your daughter…You have a chance to save their lives.”

“And bury the truth once again?”

“The truth remains a secret to the world, despite your efforts. Twilight has sworn the nobles to secrecy, or else had them arrested. A war may have been favorable with you at its helm, but now…You’ve lost, princess. And to let the consequences follow without you leading the charge, would be folly as well as treachery. You would be sending your ponies to slaughter. Not to mention, your own life may become forfeit.”

“The truth matters more than my life. She has to be stopped,” Cadance said, defiantly.

“And what of the lives of your family? Of the ponies you protect? What do their lives mean?”

Cadance faltered, and the truth of war began to overcome her.

Her eyes danced back up to Marius, bitterly.

Against their canvas of night black, stars glimmered red, blue, gold and green, perched alongside the fireworks’ technicolor flame. The streets were full of music and dancing, and deluges of laughter and drink. The city tossed and turned into the night, its flickering torch-lights fading in and out, buckling in the breeze.

Lightning Dust sat alone on the bakery rooftop, a half-empty brown bottle lying at her side.

For as much as she loathed Mandola and his unwanted advances, she could not deny he had exceptional taste for spirits. From her perch, she could make out the crowds below, as ponies passed beneath strings of golden lights, wading through the hazy fog of sweat, booze, and smoke.

Lightning felt a pinch on her leg, and she found Scampers gnawing at her coat.

“I just fed you,” Lightning sighed, ripping off a piece of stolen bread for her needy rodent companion.

She gave the rat some affectionate pats to the head. But Scampers’ attention was quickly seized by the creaking of metal wires coming from nearby.

Lightning turned her head around to investigate the disturbance, while Scampers scurried up to her shoulder, alert.

But it was only Kickstart, who had come crawling up the fire escape ladder, struggling up over the rooftop edge.

“I was worried you'd run off,” Kickstart said, relieved.

“Lucky you. I’d be hard to catch,” Lightning grinned, turning back to the bustling city street below.

“You think they’ll be back soon?” he asked.

“What, that sorry bunch of suckers? The longer, the better.”

Lightning glared at him from over her shoulder.

"I'm not in the mood, Kicks," Lightning grumbled.

"I'm not here to make fun of you. Seriously!" Kickstart said, before sighing, "...Or get in your pants. Or whatever you think I'm here to do. But whenever you've got that look on your face, I know something's wrong."

Lightning frowned.

Kickstart sat beside her in a huff, before he noticed the bottle lying at her side.

"Don’t tell Wallflower about that,” Lightning said, glancing at the bottle, “She’d kill me.”

“My lips are sealed,” Kickstart said.

Lightning sighed and sat back against the concrete of the roof.

“It’s a bad habit,” Lightning admitted, “My mother would be scolding me. If I ever brought a boy home, she’d sniff him out for beer breath the second he walked through the door,” she said, with the hints of a smile.

“...Your folks have got to be missing you, nowadays,” Kickstart said.

Lightning’s laughter came out as a snort.

“They gave up on me a while ago. I had it coming, I guess. They raised me to be the best. And when I couldn’t hack it, I broke both their hearts.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Kickstart said, “Wallflower told me you’re the fastest pony in all Equestria.”

“Second,” Lightning corrected, begrudgingly paying homage to Rainbow Dash.

“Better than third,” Kickstart pointed out.

“It’s always been like this,” Lightning said, scooting closer towards the edge of the roof, “When I was in high school, I joined the advanced junior cadet corps, flying with kids two years older. I didn’t care about flying, really, I just wanted to make some friends. But I was never going to be one of them. I was too weak, too small. I couldn’t speak up for myself, I couldn’t fight back, all I could do was shut up and pretend none of what they said really bothered me. But it did. Of course it did. And what made me so angry, was that I still wanted to stick around. Because at the end of the day, all I wanted was for them to want me. To let me be one of them. Once I got fast enough, I overdid it. I turned into the kind of bully I used to hate. Now it's back to how things used to be. Sunset hates me. Nothing I do is ever good enough for her. I just want to help, but all I do is cause more fuck-ups. In the past it would only ever ruin my life, but now there's Wallflower, and Suri, Bon Bon, and Scootaloo, and you. My parents were right. Who do I think I am?"

Kickstart glanced at the ground below, and threw his hooves up.

"Everypony fucks up," he said, "Sunset, Suri, fucking Bon Bon, they've all shit the bed at least once. This isn't supposed to be easy, but we're trying our best. But run the numbers. You got through getting ditched from the Wonderbolts, and then made it out of that prison in the frozen north, and then battle after battle on the run....And through all of that you kept all those other ponies alive, and kept them together. And doing that, you made this world a little better. Also, the only reason Sunset gives you so much shit is because she holds you to a higher standard than the rest of us. You know that."

Kickstart stuck his hoof over hers on the pavement.

"So dry your tears, tell your parents to go fuck themselves, and get your head back in the game," Kickstart said.

Lightning had to smile, and she sat herself back up.

"...Alright. Thanks, Kicks," Lightning said.

And from the fire-escape stairs, Scootaloo sat just out of sight, watching with tired eyes. And her smile was hard to lose, watching Lightning rest her head on Kickstart's shoulder.

Icicles dangled off the old stone battlements, where faint flakes of snow danced in the galloping gusts. Shining Armor could make out the tips of the Crystal Mountains from his balcony perch, and wondered of home, and what trouble his daughter had gotten into today.

The funeral arrangements for the late Prince Boreas had drawn to a close, and Shining Armor expected to be back home in a week’s time. He feared what news would be awaiting him, however, knowing his wife had thrown herself into the lion’s den.

A light had left him; he thought himself half a stallion without Cadance at his side to coax his temper, to guide their daughter on a kinder path, to remind him of what he had fought for all those years. He had once found solace only in his distractions - fighting, hunting, training recruits. It was Cadance who showed him there was more to that mortal life than to work himself to death. He loved her, and loathed her all the same. Where he once thought himself the more headstrong of the pair, she was surpassing his expectations once again. It was his obliviousness to it all that tore him apart. She must have distrusted him, he reasoned. She must have thought him not cunning enough to be a part of her plan, or not careful enough to keep it secret.

He wondered of Flurry Heart. What she had eaten for breakfast that day, what destruction she may have caused in the palace. He never thought himself capable of loving anything the way he loved that little girl.

I have to get back to her, he thought to himself.

He had never sought to be a prince, to rule over the Crystal Empire and all its creatures. But for his daughter’s sake, and his wife’s, the responsibility came easily.

“Sir,” came the voice of Prince Broadwing, entering out from the inner chamber to the balcony, blanketed in snow.

Shining Armor turned around, blinking away the snow from his eye.

“My mother’s sent for you,” Broadwing said, “She says it’s urgent.”

Shining’s heart sank.

He followed the young prince into the inner keep, up a flight of stairs to the Great Hall, where Lady Primrose awaited them, sitting on her late husband’s great wooden throne at the far end of the room.

The air was not much warmer than the winterland outside, and though the Frost Ponies paid no notice to the cold, Shining was struggling to keep his shivering a secret.

“My lady,” Shining Armor said, bowing his head slightly.

He went on to acknowledge Princess Bellflower, Broadwing’s youngest sister, and Blackburn, the childhood companion of the late Boreas as well as one of the Crystal generals who had journeyed alongside him here.

“What’s happened?” Shining Armor asked, surmising something was amiss by the dour looks on their faces.

“...A letter came this morning,” Primrose said, “From Princess Cadance.”
Shining Armor glanced at Blackburn, and back to Primrose.

Primrose revealed the aforementioned letter, left beside the wax candles on a small glass table.

Shining opened the letter, inspecting its contents.

My love,

I write to you with a heavy heart. I have been charged with treason. I have conspired against Princess Twilight and tried to steal her throne. I am being treated very well. I beg you: swear obeisance to Princess Twilight. Prevent any further strife from dividing Equestria. See to it that peace prevails. Yours, Cadance.

“Treason?’ Shining Armor repeated, turning to Primrose, stunned.

“Cadance wrote this?” Broadwing asked, stunned. He approached Shining, whose eyes were still locked onto the letter.

“It's nonsense,” Blackburn suggested, “Somepony's idea of a joke.”

“Who would do something like that?” Bellflower stammered.

“It’s Cadance’s hoof,” Shining corrected, “And she wouldn't make a joke like this."

“Reports reached us not long before. They say Cadance’s been taken to the dungeons, though nopony is certain why,” Primrose said, and her voice trembled.

“This is madness,” Broadwing spat, reeling his feral glare off the stone floor.

“What of those in her company? Luminare was with them,” Blackburn said.

“Dead, no doubt,” Broadwing figured, before turning to Shining, “And you'll join them, if we do as your sister bids.”

“Mind your tongue, boy,” Blackburn snapped.

Shining Armor’s eyes were fixed on the snow as it drifted past the threaded window, wavering.

Twilight couldn’t do such a thing.

“Whatever this is about,” Shining Armor said, “I’ll see the truth of it. I’ll go to Canterlot. Twilight will listen to me.”

Shining Armor turned towards the doors, following a look of approval from Blackburn.

But Broadwing, in spite of his mother’s warning gaze, thought otherwise.

“My prince, this is certain to be a trap,” Broadwing declared, sternly storming towards the center of the room, beckoning after Shining as he neared the doors.

Shining Armor came to a halt, and turned around.

“Cadance would sooner give her own life before betraying Equestria,” Broadwing said, “This is a letter of bloody lies.”

“What would you have me do?” Shining Armor demanded, raising his voice, “Take up arms against my own sister? Betray Cadance’s own wishes?”

Broadwing kept his mouth shut, avoiding prodding Shining’s wrath any further.

The doors to the Great Hall came flying open then, and Broadwing instinctively reached for his sword.

But it was only Corporal Sugar Rush, a member of Shining Armor’s crystal guard.

“Pardon, sir,” came Sugar Rush, “There’s word from Canterlot.”

Primrose sat up in her chair, and the room fell silent as virgin snow.

“Speak it, then. Go on,” Shining Armor muttered, and he wished he could resign himself from this debacle.

“You’ve been summoned to the capital by Princess Twilight, my prince,”

Shining Armor seemed relieved then, having expected some newer sort of treachery. Redundancy made him greatly content.

“....And she’s requested to bring Princess Flurry Heart with you.”

Broadwing snapped a glance towards Shining Armor, who froze at the very mention of his daughter’s name.

The prince was restless then. He felt fury for his wife’s defiance, for his sister’s inexplicable behavior, and for the perceived threat to Flurry.

In some respects, Twilight was as dear to him as Cadance, and he wondered if by some cruel miracle this was all some misunderstanding, and that his actions may only set fire to a match. But to do nothing, to assume his sister’s best intentions, all meant Cadance remained a prisoner. By the threat of his daughter, there could be no cause of charitability, or assumption of good intentions. He shook his head, realizing that his sister had, by all means, forced his hoof.

“This is a royal command,” Primrose reminded, hesitantly, “If you should refuse…”

“I won’t refuse,” Shining said, “My sister summons me to Canterlot, I will go to Canterlot. But not alone.”

He glanced around at them all, and could hardly hide the anger swirling behind his eyes.

“The North will not lie idle while her princess sits in chains,” said the prince.

Broadwing smiled, ravenously, while Primrose sank in her chair. Bellflower flushed red, and was nigh swooning.

“Send word to Novador, and the Reindeer, and the Selvites in the east. Send for the Moose, and the Dains, and the Ice Ponies, and every one of our holdfasts south of the Crystal Mountains. We gather at the Capital.”

Blackburn nodded, softly.

Shining Armor said, turning back to the others, “My sister wants to test my loyalties.”

Broadwing straightened himself, and his smile died, while the thrill of the fight left him, replaced by fear.

“Here's my answer.”

Where once the Hazelwood's dusky susurrations, eerie echoes, and feral howls had left Juno a quivering mess, the woods seemed kinder now, and she felt as though it was no longer necessary to check over her shoulder with every other step.

Her new companions were a lively bunch - rare was it when young Tails was not whistling a sweet tune, or Hask telling stories of his youth, or Boze and Bender arguing over whose recipes made for the better sale.

She had long deprived herself of joy, of anything that could remind her of what she had lost. Though she had begun to doubt herself, and she became further compelled to smile along with the others and forget about her troubles for a little while.

That afternoon they had forded a river at a wide shallow place, whose quiet currents carried patches of foam and smooth stones.

Juno made sure to pick some of the stones as they gathered in clusters by the bank, cleaning each off for her new collection.

The far bank was a steep climb, and muddy too, such that Juno required help from Tails so as to not slip. And there at the top, they could see the great peak, the Heart of Equestria, and at its face sat the glittering city of Canterlot, guarded by a platoon of scattered stone-grey clouds. And from the mountain’s slopes began the great Crescendo River, whose wrathful tides rode all the way south through the Everfree Forest. Juno recognized the rushing hiss of the waters, from the few times her father could convince her mother to let her tag along on his fishing trips.

But before Juno could distract herself with memories of her father and mother, the majesty of Canterlot and the Heart had taken her. She had never seen a thing that looked so big before.

“Wait until you see it up close,” Hask said, having noticed her lingering behind, awestruck.

Bender and Boze were still struggling to push the cart over the bank, while Juno stood atop the hill, over the grass and mud, basking in the sunlight that peered over the mountain peak, where the city glowed pearly white. The wind blew her curly mane half-across her face, though she was almost frozen in place. The grass danced in the currents in the wind, gently, while the stray strand of sun glided over her eyes.

She smiled at Hask, and for a moment all the regret she had felt the night before slipped away in a single blink.

Bender and Boze at last made the final push, and the cart could rest over top of the bank.

“Here’s a good place to rest,” Hask said, while Bender and Boze caught their breath, “We set out at first light tomorrow - Save some strength. Fortune awaits us, friends.”

Tails was beaming in excitement, as was Juno.

They had only two tents to begin with, though Hask and Tails were content to let Juno have theirs. They were lucky for the night’s blessing, intending to lay out in the grass beneath the stars, and pray against the rain.

Juno insisted they not accommodate her, feeling guilty as an unwanted burden, though Hask’s word was final.

But before the sun had set, Juno chose to visit Tails, who was sitting by his lonesome on a downed log near the river bank, whittling a stick with his knife. He was handsome, and the youngest, and so she was drawn to him the most. He was awfully old, though, almost sixteen!

Tails smiled for a brief moment when she arrived, but quickly returned to his work.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Juno said, and she was impressed with the strange groove pattern he had made.

Tails glanced at her, and put his knife down.

“You never said what you were doing out here,” Tails said, abruptly catching Juno off-guard.

Juno said nothing, having not considered the need for an alibi. But then again, she was not sure whether it was safe to trust anypony else with her true intentions, quite yet.

“Are you running from home?” Tails asked.

“Something like that,” Juno replied, half-smiling.

Tails sighed, and nearly laughed, and spun around on the log to face her.

“Sit down,” he said, scooting over on the log.

Juno obliged, trotting over to sit at his side.

“...You know your parents are gonna be worried sick.”

“I know,” Juno said, softly, and she imagined they would be.

But Tails had noticed her expression shift just then, and he began to fear the worst.

“But they’re not around, are they,” he posited, cautiously.

Juno turned her head away from him.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Tails said.

Tails at first meant to stick out his hoof to comfort her, though he reeled it back, regretfully.

“My father would tell me a story once,” Tails said, and Juno slowly turned her head back towards him, “A fox there was, its leg caught in a trap. The fox was languishing for hours, in agony. But after a while, the blood and the sweat let it wriggle itself free. And the fox, with its mangled leg, could only limp back to its den. And crows and hawks began to circle it overhead, and they yelled at the fox, telling it to lay down and give itself to them. And the fox despaired, and pained. But it had its den to get back to, its cubs. And there came a point that the fox felt it could not go on, but drew what strength remained, and continued. And the fox returned home, healed, and raised her pups.”

“...And what if the fox had no den? And no family?” Juno asked, "What then?"

“Then the fox must find a new den. And start a new family,” Tails replied, “If the fox was meant to die, the trap would have killed it. But the fox was not meant to die.”

“I guess not,” Juno supposed.

“Maybe Canterlot could be a new home,” Tails said, “Or somewhere else. Wherever it is, I’m certain you’ll find it.”

Juno bit her lip, and nodded her head, though she was not certain she understood.

“Sun’s almost set. You should get to bed,” Tails said.

Juno nodded, and scurried off from the log, and Tails sighed to himself, pitying her.

But even hours after retiring to her tent, Juno could not find sleep. Each time she shut her eyes, the bloody visage of her mother’s screams and her father’s hollow eyes reminded her why her chest ached throughout the day, and why her mind was ever so scattered.

She was alert enough, then, to lift her head when her tent flap came unzipped.

Her heart sank, and she expected some monster of the forest to have finally found her. But it was only Hask, who seemed to have expected her to be asleep.

“Should have knocked, sorry,” Hask whispered, “Left a lantern in here.”

Juno smiled, though she was not sure what he meant; she hadn’t seen any lanterns in the tent.

“Can’t sleep?” Hask asked.

Juno shook her head.

“Too used to my own bed, maybe,” she explained.

“Nature can be cruel,” he said, stepping into the tent to search for his lantern.

“Just wait until we make it to the city,” he said, “With its featherbeds, silk linens and sweet perfumes, there’s every comfort a pony could want.”

Juno was excited by the prospect, weary of sleeping atop the crude rocks and roots that littered the ground. Hask continued searching for the lantern, frisking about the tent edges in the dark.

“There, it’s all too easy for a pony to indulge themselves,” Hask said, and Juno could not tell what he meant, nor exactly where he was in the darkness of the tent.

“And their desires,” he continued.

Juno's smile vanished. She paled when's she felt his touch, as his hoof began gliding against her hind leg.

She would have screamed, if his other hoof had not stuffed itself over her mouth. She squealed into his hoof, and thrashed against him, while he climbed over top of her. She did not know what to do. She did not know how to fight. She was too small and he was too strong and she was stuck there on her back. Get off me, was all she could think, as she twisted and fought with all her might. She would run and run and never look back, she just needed to get free.

“Hey, now, I think it’s only fair. We took you in, and fed you, huh? Come on, go easy,” he said, attempting to coax her while she fought against his grip.

“A pretty thing like you should have thought as much,” he continued, and she could feel his weight on top of her, while tears began to well in her eyes, and she buckled desperately to wriggle free, to no avail.

“A pretty thing with brains, too, how about that. You were right about us the first time,” Hask laughed, “The last ponies we came across meant to sell their grain in Canterlot. What a shame, they ran into us first.”

Juno continued squealing, while Hask muffled her with his hoof.

“I said take it easy, did you hear me?” Hask said, dropping his relaxed demeanor, roughly reaching for her throat.

But before he could get any further, some rummaging from outside made him alert, and he perked up from on top of Juno. Juno was trembling and crying into his hoof, long cries that came hard and loud and then withered away into a shaky whisper.

Ponies’ shouting could be heard from outside, and Hask could feel a bead of sweat slip off his chin. He glanced back at Juno.

“Stay here,” he muttered, before promptly shoving himself off of her, and storming out of the tent.

Juno gasped for breath. Her heart was beating so fast she was afraid to move too fast. Her eyes were wide and could not blink. She was paralyzed there on her back, before she slowly found the strength to hold herself with her own forelegs.

She was almost in a state of trance, broken only when she heard a loud crack and more ponies’ voices scattering around the tent.

Juno weakly picked herself up from the ground, and crawled out of the tent.

She froze at soon as she made it outside, watching as the other tent was torn to the ground by a pack of roughly sixteen ponies, clad in gleaming golden mail.

Juno panicked, and rushed to hide herself behind the tent. She couldn’t stop herself from peeking out, however, and watching on as Hask was thrown alongside Tails, Bender, and Boze, tossed to the ground and held at swordpoint.

She ducked back down, when two more soldiers approached from nearby on the dirt road leading back towards Ponyville.

“These are the ones, sir. Outlaws…” said one. His companions, a green-maned stallion with a matching feathery crest on his helmet, grunted in approval.

He must have nodded or given a wave to his subordinates, as Juno soon heard them pick up Hask and the others, and stick them in chains, and begin marching them off towards the platoon’s road convoy.

Juno, for a moment, believed herself safe in hiding, that was until she felt a hoof snag her by the shoulder, dragging her out from behind the tent.

“Sir! Another one,” said the soldier, who had a hold of Juno, now by her mane. She struggled against him, hopelessly.

“Wait! I’m not-” she attempted to say, before the soldier draw his sword towards you.

"Not a word," the soldier warned. Juno stopped struggling and shut her mouth, although she hated to have her mane pulled.

The green-maned stallion glanced towards the road, and the guard understood, dragging her off to be chained up with the others.

Juno groaned while the soldier dragged her by her mane. She lost her footing, but the soldier kept dragging her anyway, scraping her skin against the gravel and dirt. Her vision began to blur, when her head fell hard against a jagged rock, and soon the world went dark.

Rivers of orange neon snaked their way down Maiden Lane, where Rarity kept herself hidden beneath a strawberry shawl.

Her companion, the crystal guard she had escaped the palace with, still had some maculate specks of blood on his face.

They had been wandering the city for what felt like hours, speaking little to one another, focusing only on avoiding catching any street patrols’ attention.

Escaping the bustling sidewalk, the pair of them managed to split off into a small alleyway, which reeked of spoiled discards from the nearby Farasi restaurant.

That night, the air was hot like a sauna, and Rarity had to wipe some sweat off her brow. She knew they couldn’t stay here for long, what with guards on the prowl, though a brief rest was much-needed.

But it wasn’t a royal guard who caught them by surprise, instead it was a more familiar face.

Trixie came stumbling out from the street crowd, dodging a low-hanging string-held lamp and approaching the two of them.

The crystal guard, who did not recognize her, rose to his hooves, expecting a fight.

Rarity jumped ahead of him, before he could land his first punch.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Rarity said, “But it’s good to see you.”

“It took me ages to find you,” Trixie said, regretfully, before her eyes darted over to the guard, “Who’s your friend?”

“Starbuck,” the guard answered, on his own behalf, “Nice to meet you.”

The stallion was faint turquoise in color, and appeared young for a corporal.

“We helped each other escape,” Rarity explained, “I thought Twilight would have kept all of that quiet, perhaps I was wrong.”

“You’re not wrong. Equestria doesn’t know what happened. But Alias does, and he’s looking for you.”

Rarity’s lips tightened.

“Still fraternizing with those sanctimonious bloodsuckers, are you? Can’t say I’m surprised. There really is no low you wouldn’t stoop to, is there?”

“The Erased are hunting you down, as we speak,” Trixie said, wiping the smirk off Rarity’s face, “I came to help you, to buy you time. But I need a favor.”

Rarity raised an eyebrow.

“Well don’t be coy, darling, what is it?”

“You’ve still got that letter Cadance gave you?”

Rarity’s eyes widened, shocked that Trixie could know of such a thing.

Starbuck glanced at Rarity, having been unaware of what Rarity was carrying in her purse.

“If we leak that to the press…There won’t be any more doubt about who’s to blame for all of this," Trixie said.

Rarity recoiled at the thought.

“Cadance had the same idea. Surely, there must be some way to go about this without pouring gasoline on the fire.”

“This is our last chance,” Trixie said, “Those are Cadance’s words. Ponies trust her. If this gets buried, like every other lead we’ve had, Twilight wins.”

“And why, pray tell, would I trust you of all ponies with such a task?”

“Because you’ve got nopony else,” Trixie said, plainly.

Rarity sighed, struggling to budge.

“I saw what she did. To Cadance, to all those ponies,” Rarity said, softly glancing towards Starbuck for a moment, “...Perhaps it’s better that it’s out of my hooves.”

Rarity dug into her purse, and slowly revealed an off-white envelope, stamped in ruby-red wax.

“No matter the spell that’s taken hold of her,” Rarity said, “Equestria deserves the truth.”

Trixie nodded, and Rarity weakly stretched out her hoof, planting the envelope in Trixie’s.

“We’re going to end this,” Trixie said, though Rarity seemed to lack the same enthusiasm.

She glanced at the ground, and back towards Trixie, as if wishing to disappear right then and there.

“There’s an empty apartment room that the Erased uses sometimes, I’ll write down the address,” Trixie said, stuffing the letter in her bag and retrieving a pen and scrap of paper. “The two of you should be safe laying low there for a while, it’s out of use.”

While Starbuck beamed in relief, Rarity could felt her chest flutter.

“That’s generous of you, darling. But Sweetie Belle-”

“-Is heading back to Ponyville,” Trixie said, “I already made the arrangements.”

Rarity was speechless for a moment.

“On the Express? By herself? Twilight’s not the only pony who’s lost her mind!”

“She’ll be safer in Ponyville, you know that. The farther from Twilight, the better off she’ll be,” Trixie argued.

Rarity supposed she was right.

“Give it a week until the royals and the Erased all forget about you, and get out of the city. Your friend here would be smart to do the same.”

Rarity hesitated.

“A lovely proposition,” Rarity said, “...But Twilight needs me, Trixie. I remember the pony she used to be. I need to be at her side.”

Trixie was baffled, but nodded along.

“Your funeral,” Trixie muttered, “...I’ll check on you in a few days. Be safe.”

Rarity wavered, and she was mournful almost, as if watching a ghost glide up through the air.

“Take care,” she said, weakly.

Trixie nodded her goodbye, and glanced at Starbuck to her right, before making her way back towards the street crowd.

A smile came to her then. She imagined Starlight at her side, trotting along, and Trixie cursed Twilight in the same fleeting thought. Here was her vengeance, Trixie thought, and this time Twilight would not endure.

Down the drizzle-drenched path, that winded and weaved through the city in narrow lanes, the rain slid off the gutters of pink, red, and white townhouses, where Wallflower Blush sauntered on.

Ahead, Bon Bon and Suri tried their best to not muddy their hooves, while Sunset trudged along at the front.

Sunset had kept them off the main roads, for fear of royal patrols, whose prowling eyes scoured the city day and night.

But at the gate of one alley block, the grey morning light brought a smile to Sunset’s face, and she turned back to the others.

“This is the place,” Sunset said at last, throwing open the gate and entering into a small neighborhood, buried underneath a set of stacked apartment buildings, that teetered in their rusty frames.

Rounding past a short wall of rigid grey bricks that guarded an overgrown yard and a dilapidated, red-roofed hovel of a home, Wallflower’s eyes widened in disbelief, at the gothic eyesore that sat between the rows of cookie-cutter Canterlot residences.

“What kind of pony would live in a place like that?” Suri muttered.

“She’s a bit of a hermit. And she’s not keen on visitors,” Sunset replied.

“You don't say,” Suri said, glaring at the patches of moss that oozed out from the surrounding stone wall.

“Just follow my lead, and don’t get her riled up,” Sunset advised.

Wallflower came last in the pack, as the four of them neared the front door.

But, to Sunset’s dismay, she found there was no door to the house, nor window, though she could have sworn otherwise during her last visit.

“We might have a problem, ‘kay,” Suri said, flatly.

“How the hay do you get inside?” Bon Bon asked, nervously checking her shoulder to see if they could be spotted from the street nearby.

“Just give me a second,” Sunset said, stalking about the property, searching for a point of entry, to no avail. For the entirety of the house, all she could find was brick, brick, and more brick.

“We can’t be out here like this for long,” Wallflower said, impatiently. Some plan this is, she thought to herself, glaring at Sunset.

“Just give me a second,” Sunset repeated, angrily.

She continued pacing around, almost desperately, until a thought came to her.

She had meant to teleport, though her spell fell apart on impact.

“What the-” Sunset muttered, and she tried a second time, with the same result.

“Wait…” Sunset said, before her horn ignited electric blue, and a wave of magic overcame the whole of the house.

And the air began to twitch and tremble, when the veiled vestige of the house she once recognized came to life, with its door just a few feet to her Sunset’s right.

“It’s a spell of concealment,” Sunset said, laughing, “Go figure.”

Sunset marched up towards the door, half-visible through the hazy spell.

Her horn burned bright, and before the others could stop her, the door came springing off its hinges, half-burned to ash.

Sunset glanced at a horrified Wallflower, and smirked, before trotting off inside.

“Sunset, you really should learn how to knock,” Suri said.

The three of them followed Sunset inside, taking in the cluttered mess of parchments, books, and dark velvet furniture.

A pony came dashing in from another room, and her face said everything that her words couldn’t. She was a pale-cream unicorn, with a scarlet and purple mane, whose face was mostly hidden beneath a pair of black spectacles, held together with tape.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” the pony exclaimed, “Are you insane?! I just got that door replaced! Look at what you’ve done! Oh! You’re going to-”

The pony trailed off, as her eyes centered on Sunset.

“You,” the pony muttered, through gritted teeth. She marched up to Sunset, unafraid, and her horn began to glow, “I thought you’d have gotten the message by now. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“Moon Dancer,” Sunset cooed, “You didn’t really think your little spells would keep me away, did you?”

“No, I guess I underestimated how much of a relentless pest you’d be. How silly of me.”

Moon Dancer’s eyes drifted past the others, and landed on Bon Bon.

“Ah, the world-class monster hunter. Not surprised you’ve picked such dreadful company.”

“It’s nice to see you too,” Bon Bon said, rolling her eyes.

“We need your help,” Sunset said, bluntly.

“Ha!” Moon Dancer exclaimed, “I don’t owe you a thing,” Moon Dancer said.

Sunset ignored her, and reached into her duffel bag, retrieving the three photographs of Razor Blade and his mangled cohorts.

Sunset set them down on a nearby coffee table.

Moon Dancer was unable to resist stealing a glance.

“What the hell am I looking at? Some college student’s modern art final?”

“This is real,” Sunset said, “Two days ago. Eight in all. Whoever did this, is probably after us next.”

“Ah. That sounds wonderful, then. One less threat to the structural integrity of my home.”

“This is serious,” Sunset said, “Throw me a bone, just this once.”
Moon Dancer glared at her, and sighed, exaggeratedly.
She trotted over to the coffee table, and glanced at the photos.

“Your friends can help themselves to the coffee. But don’t you dare use up any of my sugar. That’s for me.”

“Understood,” Bon Bon replied, dragging Suri along with her towards the kitchen.

“Ah,” Moon Dancer said, having examined one photo in particular, “Look there,” she continued, pointing at one burning red gash in a pony’s side, “That is a trucidation spell, army standard. Performed a little gratuitously though, if you ask me.”

“How many ponies?” Wallflower asked.

Moon Dancer glared at Wallflower.

“Who’s this?”

“Nobody,” Sunset dismissed.

“Wallflower Blush,” Wallflower said, softly.

“Well, Wallflower Blush, I’d wager just one. The puncture angles are all coming from the exact same spot.”

“Just one?” said Bon Bon, who had returned from the kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee, “Doesn’t sound so bad.”

“One pony, who could take out eight all on their own,” Sunset said, almost in disbelief, “How many of Twilight’s dogs could be capable of that?”

“It’d have to be a powerful unicorn, to master that kind of spell,” Moon Dancer said, as if it was obvious, “A few in the Nine could do it, Twilight’s personal guard. Or maybe Twilight herself, in which case you’d be really screwed. Look, it doesn’t really matter. They’ll find you sooner than later, and by the looks of it, this isn’t going to be pretty.”

Sunset scoffed, as her mind perused through a catalog of potential plans.

“You don’t have to fight out in the open,” Moon Dancer sighed, “Haven’t you got a bargaining chip?”

Sunset stared at her, blankly. “What?”

Moon Dancer glanced between them all, and her smug scowl fell from her face.

“Gilded Lily, the kidnapping. That wasn’t you?”

“Who?” Sunset said.

“It’s all over the news. I assumed you had something to do with it,” Moon Dancer said, trotting over to retrieve yesterday’s newspaper off the coffee table.

Sunset and Wallflower battled for a closer view, though the headline was enough cause for concern.

“Some bigwig’s niece disappeared. So what? That’s got to happen all the time," Sunset said.

Moon Dancer glanced at the ground.

“Those friends of yours,” she said, drawing her words out as the gears began turning, “Who were they?”

“...Some ponies I knew from Manehattan. What’s it to you?” Suri said.

“Who did they work for?” Moon Dancer said, annoyed having to re-qualify her question.

“They were powder-runners, they used to work for a pony called Trench, who ran the Underground. He sent Razor and his boys down to pick up the five-thousand I owed them. But we made a new deal - Razor would let us off the hook and give us a place to stay, if I paid him off and we did a couple jobs for him. He wanted us to meet, but when we came to see him, that’s what we found,” Suri said, gesturing towards the photographs, “Now, ‘kay, if you’re through with the interrogation…”

Suri reached to light a cigarette, as her face flushed red. Her thoughts drifted back to her old office in Manehattan, swimming in snowtrails and entertaining a daily lover. She would have it all again, someday, or at least she promised herself as much. She turned away from the others, though Wallflower had noticed the shift in her gaze.

Moon Dancer, meanwhile, glanced back at the photographs.

“Gilded Lily’s uncle is a railroad mogul, his name’s Fancy Pants," Moon Dancer said, "That little gentry club of his, Canterlot’s creme de la creme, they’ve worked themselves in with criminal clans and families from all over Equestria. Manehattan, especially. Why would your friend Razor want to meet on such short notice?"

"We still had time before we were supposed to pay him," Suri said, "He must have wanted to meet us for something else."

"Something having to do with Gilded Lily, I'd wager," Moon Dancer, pleased with her own deduction.

“So what, you’re saying we’ve got nothing to worry about?” Suri asked.

“I wouldn’t count on that. Your friend Razor Blade sounds like the type to sell you out, and considering the price on your heads, I wouldn’t blame him. Poor idiot. You’re not safe, but if you want an upper hoof, Fancy Pants might know more about what this is all about, and why Razor Blade wanted to involve you,” Moon Dancer suggested, “And the sooner you go bother him instead of me, the better.”

“And his niece?” came Sunset.

“That’s the part I can't figure out. If you’re telling the truth, and she’s not stuffed in the trunk of your car somewhere.”

“Not that I can remember,” Bon Bon smirked.

“Look, it’s just the timing of it all that’s suspicious. One day his niece goes missing, the next day these friends of yours all wind up murdered. They’re related, somehow.”

Sunset glanced at Wallflower, who seemed unconvinced.

“It’s worth a shot,” Sunset said.

“We shouldn’t be throwing ourselves back in the fray,” Wallflower said, “Especially with you leading the charge. Ponies are going to get hurt.”

“We’re backed against a wall,” Sunset said, “Ponies are already getting hurt. Twilight’s never going to give up the chase. Whatever leg up on her we can get, we should take.”

Wallflower narrowed her eyes, and Sunset took a step towards her, as if expecting an altercation to ensue.

They kept on staring the other down, even after the sound of rummaging outside took the others by surprise.

“More friends of yours?” Moon Dancer asked, hesitantly.

“Not likely,” Bon Bon said, “Sunset?”

Sunset sighed and turned away from Wallflower, to face the source of the commotion.

“They’ve found us.”

From outside the window, Moon Dancer could count at least eight royal guards exiting their carriage parked down the street, marching up towards her front stoop.

Only, as far as the guards could tell, there was no front stoop. The concealment spell had returned, and from the exterior, the doors and windows were once again replaced by solid brick.

“It’ll take them longer to figure out the spell,” Sunset said, collecting the three photographs and the newspaper, and stuffing them all in her duffel bag.

“You’ve led them right to me,” Moon Dancer seethed, turning to Sunset, “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

“You can come up with a good alibi,” Sunset said, approaching Moon Dancer, “Or…you can come with us.”

Moon Dancer laughed at the very idea.

“I heard what happened in Ponyville. Quite a coincidence, you’d just paid a visit.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Sunset said.

“Um, what is she talking about?” Bon Bon asked.

More and more royal guards began to encircle the house, struggling to decipher Moon Dancer’s spell.

“Ten dead. Half the city turned to ash,” Moon Dancer laughed, “Just another day in the life of Sunset Shimmer.”

Wallflower and Bon Bon turned to face Sunset, who glanced at the ground, hesitating. Bon Bon clenched her hooves and wished she’d never left Ponyville to begin with. Wallflower was less shocked at what Sunset had done, and more so surprised to see what appeared to be regret behind those out cyan eyes.

“It wasn’t kind,” Sunset said, grimly, “It wasn’t brave, it wasn’t decent. But some ponies need a taste of their own medicine.”

Suri backed away from the door, as a series of banging hooves shook her alert.

“Twilight’s not finished yet,” Sunset said, “So neither am I.”

“We shouldn’t try to beat her at her own game,” Wallflower said, “It isn’t right.”

“That’s who we are,” Sunset snapped, “Everypony that’s tried playing fair, has wound up dead. We do things my way, and we might just come out alive."

Sunset glanced over back to Moon Dancer, while the guards’ pounding rang louder outside.

“Time’s ticking away, Moon Dancer,” Sunset said, “Are you in or out?”

Moon Dancer sputtered, her eyes darting sporadically between Sunset and the window.

“For Celestia’s sake,” Moon Dancer muttered, “Of all the rotten deals…”

“I’ll take that as a yes, now come on, before they wise up” Sunset said, grabbing Moon Dancer by the hoof.

Sunset gathered the others together, and began charging her horn.

“I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship,” Sunset grinned, while Moon Dancer sighed in disgust.

Sunset’s horn glowed blue, and the five of them disappeared in a flash of light, sending pieces of parchments spiraling off in the breeze.

By the bustling rows of buzzing computers and blinking color consoles, Trixie Lulamoon rubbed her tired eyes, having only returned to headquarters that morning.

Alias was mid-reprimand, his shadow cast against the great canvas screen that made up the front-facing wall of the command center. Rings of desks and postings encircled the screen, where ponies were busy flying into a frenzied fluster.

"Everything Posh found on Celestia," she heard one agent yell into Alias' ear, "Murder, extortion, fraud, corruption, the whole list! Somepony sent the evidence to the goddamn press!

Time seemed to move slower by the instant, as Trixie’s eyes glided up past the cubicles and trembling agents, to the widescreen beyond. She made out the face of Blooper, head anchor of the Equestrian News Network, whose glimmering grin was long lost.

“In addition to these shocking reports on Princess Celestia, we've also received another anonymous submission…Princess Cadance has indicated that Princess Twilight had played some role in the Ponyville murders, though, we can’t be sure…Waiting on verification….Princess Cadance has made no public appearance in two days….Canterlot is buzzing with rumors, that she's disappeared, or has been arrested, though we here at ENN cannot say with certainty. I don’t know what to make of this, folks.”

The letter had gone through, she realized, as she had intended after slipping it in Canterlot Daily’s mailbox the previous night.

“Ponies have already begun gathering in Central Plaza, and…here’s more, Cloudsdale, Baltimare, Vanhoover, have all declared states of emergency…The rioting is nationwide. Celestia save us. Waiting now for updates.”

The chaos in the command center made sense to her, at that moment, and she glanced over at Alias. He had been staring at her since she first arrived, his face gaunt, his eyes blood-red.
“What have you done?”

Author's Note

Sorry for the delay!! Hoping to get the next one out a lot sooner. Thanks for reading, feedback always welcomed!

03: Go For Broke

Starbright shadows lanced in the velvet vacuum, down black depths trembling cold. Those bloodshot eyes traced the corners of the city, past each glimpse of burning hearths and traffic light sweat. By her chamber’s balcony, heartbeat heat kept Twilight Sparkle wide awake, while the moon spurned her from its skybound perch. What was keeping her in place, she wondered, what tempted her against pure escape, past that steel railing? Was she more horrified to want it or want against it, she wondered.

Now Equestria would see her for what she is.

Murderer.

Tyrant.

Witch.

None of them could know of the burden, none of them could speak to her as if she chose wrong.

I saved you. I saved Equestria.

And Cadance. Featherglass. Marius, even her own brother - all preying on her for their own ends. Those rats, those thieves, they were waiting for her to give it all away, she knew it, waiting for her to make a mistake.

She hardly spoke a word to anypony these days. Enemies, enemies everywhere. Nopony was on her side.

Had she gone mad already, she feared, were the rumors all true? No, no, no, the sickness was a lie.

She laughed aloud, imagining her old friends in her shoes now, or worse, her former teacher.

Equestria was long a land of misery, she reasoned, masked only by the sheer dissonance of its blissful inhabitants. Celestia enjoyed a few hundred years of peace, a pristine result of a collateral clean slate. The sickness, Twilight recalled, was this the sickness? All alicorns fell against it, eventually. Artemis. Nebulae. Solaris. They had all wandered, Celestia had warned, until they fell off the edge of sanity. Such powerful magic was bound to corrupt eventually. It was only a matter of time. She would be among them soon enough, she was sure of it.

But she was not too far gone, not yet, she reminded herself. She could have torn Sunset Shimmer apart when she had the chance. But for the blood already dried on her hooves, perhaps she ought to not make the same mistakes of the past. She could yet rise above the specters chasing her around each and every corner, at whatever peril.

Ember, Thorax, the lot of them, they were vultures, traitors, thieves. After Celestia, they would have come for her next, she knew it. All they ever wanted were the spoils of a dying nation doomed for the dust. But despite whatever the apocalyptic prophecies said, Equestria remained intact, though only by a thread. Had she done nothing and let them finish their plans, she had no doubt the war would have already begun, and that her head would be rotting on a spike. Such was the dilemma that tormented her nightly. Twilight thought herself not capable of such depravity, once. Sunset seemed a better choice for the job. But when forced into a corner, a choice had to be made. Somepony’s hooves would have to get dirty. Still, she hated the thought of having taken a life, or, rather, lives. But Equestria had prevailed. So far.

She had not given up on her efforts to restore Spike’s life, though with each passing day the reality was made ever clearer. He was the first casualty, the first drop of blood in the coming tidal wave.

Twilight cursed herself, and Starlight Glimmer, and Cadance and Sunset the same. Crooked complications hammering against the glass gate of her fractured mind.

Cadance had the last laugh. Starlight had too, and Trixie and Sunset and all their rotten, scheming friends. Equestria was lost to madness, the moment the press had a hold of that letter and all the evidence from the crypts. Twilight felt liberated, almost. The day she had long dreaded had finally come. No more hiding in the shadows. There would be retribution, she told herself, just as there had been for Posh, for Ember, for Thorax.

Over the mountains, the earth roared in earnest, muttering in low hums and grunts.

The first drops of rain splashed against her crown, spilling down her cheek.

Stained glass shook with each crack of thunder.

Twilight was halfway towards her bed, nearing utter exhaustion, when she heard a knock on her bed-chamber door.

This had better be important.
Sauntering over towards the door, Twilight begrudgingly tidied herself up.

Swinging open the door, a pair of icy blue eyes were there to greet her, along with the rest of Snowfall Glitter, whose horn was glowing white with light.

“Please turn that down,” Twilight muttered, wincing at the strain.

Snowfall complied with the command, dimming her horn.

“May I come in, Princess?” Snowfall asked, meekly, unable to even lift her gaze off the ground.

“...Be my guest, Lieutenant,” Twilight said, curious as to what was so urgent, and at so late an hour.

Snowfall trotted into Twilight’s bed-chamber, cautiously checking her shoulder for any lurking eavesdroppers.

The door shut, and Snowfall let out a great deep breath, as if finally able to breathe.

“Reports have flooded in all night, Princess. Riots, states of emergency, mass panic, from Klugetown to Stratusburg, Baltimare to Las Pegasus. The marshals have demanded we send support to put down the unrest, I don’t know what to tell them. We’ve lost contact with the North, and Lieutenant Periwinkle’s told us the situation at the border has escalated. She needs reinforcements, Princess, before the dragons can begin an offensive. And the public, princess, they need a statement, they need something. The longer we stay silent, the worse this will all get…” Snowfall sputtered, struggling to make her thoughts plain, “They don’t know who to believe in.”

“And what do you believe?”

Snowfall glanced up at Twilight, and appeared almost terrified.

“...I believe what matters most is protecting ponies’ lives,” she said, glaring at Twilight, “And I think that’s what you want, too.”

Twilight smiled and shut her eyes, approvingly.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” she said, turning around towards the bay window of the bedchamber, “I’ll have a statement ready by tomorrow. Not that I expect it to change any hearts and minds.”

“I hope for Equestria’s sake, you’re wrong,” Snowfall said, “I fear the worst. And we can’t possibly fight a war on two fronts, Princess.”

“Shining Armor won’t turn against me,” Twilight assured, “And the dragons, even they won’t be brazen enough to light the fire, not while the whole of Equestria might stand against them.”

“And how much longer will Equestria remain whole?” Snowfall asked.

“...The Grand Galloping Gala is in a week’s time, yes?”

Snowfall stared at her, blankly.

“It is, though, er, I’m not sure now is the time for-”

“The Gala, during which we expect to find a match for the daughter of the new hippogriff queen. If we can manage a strong marriage alliance, the dragons will cower away from the fight, and stay in the Badlands where they belong,” Twilight said.

“I suppose that could work,” Snowfall said, “...However I may be of service, Princess, let me know.”

Twilight nodded her head.

“The time will doubtless come, Lieutenant. Now for my peace of mind and yours, get some rest.”

Snowfall bowed her head, and trotted off towards the door.

Once by her lonesome, she glanced back towards the window.

The night toyed with her, as the stars seemed to blink silent one by one.

Time was running out.

White leaves left their storied branches, helplessly clinging to whatever refuge they could discover, but never for long.

Silver Stream felt a similar sting, peering past her balcony window at the city, whose lights blinked and faded like a dying pulse.

“Your mom’s looking for you,” came Ocellus, who had popped her head through the door to Silver’s bedchamber, “Said you’re late for dinner.”

Silver Stream hardly spared a glance, tossing against her quilt’s comfy silk.

“I can’t find my appetite,” Silver muttered.

Ocellus wavered, before abruptly planting herself down in a small wicker chair by the door, which she promptly shut.

“You can’t hide in here all day,” Ocellus mused, “Today is fried potatoes day.”

“Ocellus,” Silver Stream said, sternly, turning to face her.

Ocellus shut her mouth, taken aback by the red burn in the hippogriff’s eyes, evidence of a night’s worth of tears.

“I must be an idiot. Thinking this was just some vacation to get my mind off things. We shouldn’t be here.”

“Everyone’s freaked out,” Ocellus said, “I don’t get what’s going on, and I’m scared too…But we’ve got to keep it cool, right?”

Silver glanced up at her, softly.

“Princess Twilight…She-” Silver began, “It was her. That’s what everyone’s saying.”

“We don’t know the whole story,” Ocellus said, flatly.

“Ocellus. Whether she’s the one who did it, or not, she’s hiding something. And who knows what they’re doing to Princess Cadance! We could be next, Ocellus. I’ve got to get home. I’ve got to get out of here.”

“Hey,” Ocellus said, rushing over to Silver’s side, “No one’s after you. And even if they were, we can take ‘em, right? Princess Twilight will always have our back.”

Silver glared at her, unconvinced.

“All these Canterlot ponies play their stupid games. I guess I thought Twilight would end up different," Silver said.

“She is! This is all some misunderstanding, You know Twilight would never do the things they say she did.”

“I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

Ocellus sighed.

“So what will you do?”

“My mother’s too terrified to leave the capital. If what happened to Cadance hasn’t convinced her it isn’t safe here, then I don’t know what will. I’m stuck. My mom could be in trouble, and how are we supposed to help? We don’t even know what’s going on.”

Ocellus reached for Silver’s claw.

“Then we’ll figure it all out. And once we do, you can talk sense into your mom, and get out of the city before things get dangerous. But you can’t fall apart now, OK?” Ocellus said, glancing at the ground, “The truth is, I knew it would be like this, that’s why I came. Everyone at the Hive was saying that things would only get worse down here, and when I heard you were coming, I…”

Her eyes returned to Silver.

“What are friends for, huh?”

Silver reached over to embrace Ocellus, who was practically being throttled under Silver’s trembling grip.

“I better get to dinner,” Silver declared.

“Save some potatoes for me,” Ocellus said, smiling weakly as Silver launched herself out of her bed.

Broken bottles and bloody bricks littered the gutterways, where last night’s drizzle formed murky riverbeds in the concrete. Splintery signs were left smashed to pieces, left in crude piles below boarded-up storefront windows. Spray paint came to light in the glow of burning carriage hulls, whose wheels were all ripped off.

Policeponies roamed the streets in herds, having only recently claimed control of the city after a night’s worth of anarchy. Ponies had since fled back to their homes, as if to wait out the storm.

Siren cries made for an easy alarm clock, when Lightning Dust toppled off the couch, landing face-first on the ground.

“Ow!” she groaned, rolling over onto her back.

The basement of Mandola’s Bodega was packed with its usual collection of surly street urchins and food stamp families, most of whom had come to escape last night’s riots. Lightning rubbed the sore on her head, and scanned through the crowd.

“Scootaloo? Kicks?”

“You just missed them,” came Mandola, kicking a sleeping pony out of his way, “He took the girl to run some errands for me.”

“Without me?” Lightning grunted, struggling to pick herself off the ground.

“I wanted to let you get some beauty sleep. You need it.”

Mandola dumped a box of expired produce near the barred window of the basement, muttering some curses under his breath as his knees began to tremble.

Lightning’s wings stretched out, and she sprang back to her hooves.

“You sent a foal out there?!” Lightning stammered.

“Relájate, pegasus. It’s kids’ stuff. Not that your lot is good for much else. Heh!”

Lightning shook her head in dismay. She should have been with them, she thought, or Scootaloo would surely get herself killed.

But before Lightning could retort, the door upstairs came swinging open.

Lightning’s eyes shot up towards the top of the basement stairs. Sunset Shimmer emerged, complete with a facemask of ash and an assortment of broken glass shards decorating her mane.

“Back in record time,” Sunset chimed, trotting down the stairs. She was followed by Suri, then Bon Bon, then Wallflower, and finally a fifth pony who Lightning did not recognize.

Mandola turned to follow Lightning’s gaze, before his eyes lit up with rage.

“¡¿Qué carajo?!”

“Wait, Mandola, listen,” Suri began, stepping out ahead of Sunset.

“No,” Mandola snapped, shaking his head in dismay.

“Who’s the square?” Lightning asked, narrowing her eyes.

“She’s friendly,” Sunset said, while Moon Dancer rolled her eyes.

“Friendly? What kind of name is that?" Lightning scratched her head.

Suri rolled her eyes, before stepping past the others to reach Mandola, who was too flustered to speak coherently.

“We didn’t have a choice, we had to bring her,” Suri explained.

“Every day you bring a new pony to this place, like I haven’t already got enough mouths to feed!”

“It’s not like I want to be here,” Moon Dancer scoffed, “This place smells like-”

“Knock it off,” Sunset snapped.

“Your bounty rises by the hour,” Mandola said, as Suri slowly approached him, “Three-thousand bits, each.”

Lightning scoffed. “For the record, I’m worth way more than that.”

“It’s been a week since Razor Blade kicked the bucket,” Suri said, “Nopony’s showed up here to take over his operation, so I think it’s safe to say you’re off the hook. Which means everything we owed him, goes to you instead. If you let us stay here, just a little while longer, we’ll get you four times your original share.”

Mandola eyed her, skeptically.

“It’s a great story. But you make for a sorry bunch of thieves,” Mandola said.

Wallflower bit her lip, unsure whether to be insulted or not.

“Where’ll you be getting all this lana from?” Mandola laughed.

“We’ll figure something out," Suri said, "First we’ve got to shake off whoever’s hunting us down, or we’ll end up like Razor Blade, and you will too, probably. We just need some more time.”

Mandola glared at Suri, and back at Lightning Dust.

A smile returned to his face.

“Perra loca,” Mandola grinned, “Fine. I will gamble with you one last time, Polomare. But your little troop of musketeers is done drafting. ¿Entendéis?”

“Deal,” Suri said.

“You have two weeks.”

“No problem,” Suri said, lying through her teeth.

“Your unicorn friend scares me,” Mandola confessed, to Sunset’s contempt, “I will be well rid of her. Not so, for the lovely pegasus. I’ll be keeping her.”

“I’ll think about it,” Suri smirked, trotting off to join the others.

“Wait, what?” Lightning exclaimed.

Moon Dancer trailed behind the others, skeptical of the other basement dwellers’ vicious glares and snarling growls.

“I can’t believe I let you drag me here,” Moon Dancer muttered.

“You could’ve stayed and given yourself up to the guards, but trust me, we make for better company,” Sunset said, leading her to the assortment of torn-up couches that the group called their home.

“So what took you so long? And who’s the new girl?” Lightning Dust buzzed, flying over to join them. She tossed a small bag of sunflower seeds over for Suri and Bon Bon to share, and took her seat beside Wallflower, who was sprawled out, exhausted.

“Patrols were double-timing it last night, with all the looting. We had to take the long way,” Suri explained, picking through the seeds.

“So that letter from Cadance that the press got, it wasn’t you?” Lightning Dust said.

“No,” Bon Bon said, “I guess we aren’t the only ones with a bone to pick with Twilight.”

“Equestria knows the truth, that's what matters,” Sunset said, “Now, Moon Dancer here thinks this pony, Fancy Pants, might have something to do with what happened to Razor Blade. If that’s true, we could find out if somepony’s still on our trail.”

“Why should we trust her?” Lightning snapped, glaring at Moon Dancer.

“She’s alright. See? Look at her, she’s alright,” Sunset said.

Lightning backed down once Sunset raised her voice, though her eyes were still locked onto Moon Dancer, suspiciously.

“Don’t act like I’m joining this little freakshow of yours. I’d gladly be back in my living room with my tea and my crosswords, instead of being stuck in this den of mongrels and miscreants,” Moon Dancer exclaimed.

"Miscreant, maybe. But mongrel? I take exception to that," Lightning said.

“A miserable bunch of lost causes, that's all you are. Why, oh Celestia why, did you have to drag me down with you!? We’re all going to prison!”

“I can't believe it. She whines worse than you, Suri,” Lightning grinned.

Wallflower snickered, causing Lightning’s smile to grow and Suri’s frown to harden.

“It’d do you just as good, if we can get rid of this tail,” Sunset reminded, “So, what more do you know about Fancy Pants?”

Moon Dancer sighed, supposing that if she was stuck in this coercive arrangement for the meantime, she might as well play along.

“He works at the Red Roan building. It’s got serious security, more than you can handle.”

“Think again,” Sunset grinned, “Bon Bon, you done with that little project of yours?”

Bon Bon, who was struggling to stay awake, suddenly came to life, dashing over towards one of the cardboard boxes stuffed full of equipment, before retrieving a burlap sack tied taut with a thick twine.

“Careful, too much pressure will set ‘em off,” Bon Bon warned, gently handing them over to Sunset.

Sunset untied the bag and inspected its contents. Her eyes lit up at the sight, a collection of crudely-assembled egg-shaped shells, each with wires and screws sticking out haphazardly.

“Are those…” Lightning began.

“Yep,” Bon Bon chirped, “That’s a month’s worth, there’s more on the way.”

Sunset nodded, approvingly, and handed the bag back to Bon Bon.

Wallflower shook her head in disbelief.

“That’s your plan?” Wallflower stammered, “Blow our way through the guards? None of this is worth taking lives.”

“Have you got a better idea?” Sunset asked, dryly, “The only way we can get to Fancy Pants is if we fight our way through.”

Wallflower grinded her teeth, as she tried to think of a less destructive alternative.

But it was Suri who suddenly rose up from the couch, her eyes widening.

“There could be another way,” Suri said, digging into her purse.

She came back with a folded-up magazine, which she quickly threw down onto the half-shattered coffee table that sat between them all.

“Coloratura Caught Lip-Syncing. So what?” Lightning laughed.

“Not that, moron. This, right here,” Suri corrected, pointing at the larger headline up at the top of the cover.

“73rd Grand Galloping Gala…Guess Who’s Not Invited,” Lightning read, “What’s the big deal?”

“Fancy Pants, he’s bound to be there,” Suri said, “Luck’s on our side for once. If we can get inside, we can lure him away for a little while and see what he knows.”

“Nice try” Moon Dancer said, rolling her eyes, “But you need a golden ticket to get into the Gala. And I think a criminal record might keep you off the guest list.”

“...The Erased used to make counterfeit tickets to get inside the Gala and keep an eye on ponies, I’ve still got some we can use, back at my house,” Bon Bon said, and she was beginning to get on board with the idea.

“This is never going to work,” Moon Dancer exclaimed, as her face turned red “You’re all on Equestria’s Most Wanted! One step through the doors and you’d be recognized!”

Suri fumbled with her hooves, stuck.

“...I wouldn’t.” The others all glanced at Wallflower, who had to gulp down her fears. “...They won’t notice me, I promise."

“I mean, she is pretty good at sneaking around,” Bon Bon offered.

“Yeah, sometimes I even forget she’s there,” Suri snickered.

“I wish I could say the same for you, Suri,” Lightning snarled.

“Shut your trap, Washout, or I’ll turn that rat of yours into mincemeat,” Suri warned.

Scampers hissed at Suri and dug himself closer to Lightning, who held him protectively, sending a scowl back Suri’s way.

“It’s too dangerous, Wallflower,” Sunset said, “You’ll get caught.”

“I won’t get caught,” Wallflower said, “Once I’m inside I can find Fancy Pants, and we can get to the bottom of what happened to Razor Blade.”

Suri glanced at Sunset.

“I suppose it’s worth a shot,” Suri admitted, “I can put an outfit together in time.”

Sunset glared at Wallflower, who kept her head held high, convicted.

“Moon Dancer,” Wallflower said, “We’re going to need your help.”

“What is this, some kind of joke? I’m not helping you,” Moon Dancer snarled.

“We’re going to need your carriage.”

“Oh, it is a joke. Wallflower needs my carriage. ”

“If we do it this way, nopony has to get hurt. But I need your help to do it.”

Moon Dancer glanced at Sunset, who seems unconvinced of such a prospect.

“Fine. But after this, we are going our separate ways,” Moon Dancer assured.

Wallflower smiled, and nodded her head..

“Suri, you and Sunset can sneak inside a different way, and I’ll lure Fancy Pants to you. Then you can shake him down, find out what he knows,” Wallflower said.

Sunset eyed her.

“Alright, Wallflower, we’ll do it your way,” Sunset said, “But when knives come out, you might wish you had me around.”

Wallflower held her ground.

“Let me do this,” Wallflower said, “Please.”

Sunset sighed, and raised her hooves up in concession.

“You better get ready then, Cinderella,” Sunset said, trotting off over to Bon Bon.

Wallflower glanced at Lightning and Suri, who seemed skeptical of her chances of success. But she was sure of herself for once, which was enough.

She had a gala to attend.

By the velvet ramparts, skirting down glimmering gold steps to the palace foyer, Silver Stream made sure Ocellus kept close behind her.

“You need to slow down,” Ocellus whined.

“As if. We’re gonna miss them, hurry up!” Silver shot back, dodging some ponies dressed in flowering silks and satin waistcoats. Down the grand stairwell, the foyer was packed to the brim with ponies, flooding in from the golden gates.

The ceiling rose into a great dome, complete with painted portraits of lost heroes, battles, and courtships. The guests’ eyes were drawn upward, as if they were looking up into the heavens. Cupolas sent stray sunbeams spilling down into the palace, and while the rain-clouds loomed, the foyer held onto a homey glow of candle chandeliers. Thin coats of gold adorned the stone and wood surfaces, where light reflected throughout the palace.

Creatures of all kinds had traveled near and far for the Gala, ranging from pampered ponies of status, to baseborn merchants eager to profit off of the new market.

But Silver and Ocellus were searching for just one creature in particular, hidden somewhere in the commotion.

“Terramar!” Silver squealed, springing through the crowd.

Ocellus soon lost track of her, once Silver had slipped away after an off-white hippogriff with a cyan mane, caught up in conversation with some older pony she did not recognize.

Terramar was caught unaware, when Silver Stream ran to embrace him from behind.

“Baby brother!” Silver squeaked, while Terramar laughed off her tight hug, “I wasn’t sure you’d come!”

“Hey, I had a feeling you’d get lonely,” Terramar said, smiling.

Ocellus popped out of the crowd, landing face-first in between them.

“Or maybe not,” he said, helping Ocellus to her hooves.

“She’s well-taken care of,” Ocellus declared, dizzily regaining her balance.

“Let me look at you,” Silver said, grabbing Terramar by the shoulders, “Ah, you still don’t know how to use a comb. But you’ve got bigger problems, I guess.”

“Thanks, sis, I missed you too.”

Silver beamed in excitement, and hugged him again, this time nearly squeezing the life out of him.
“Where’s mom?”
“...She’s been in bed all day. She’ll be so super stoked when she hears you’re here.”

Terramar nodded, before his attention turned to the stallion he had been talking to, who had begun chatting with some passing servant.

“Silver, this is Stonehoof,” Terramar said, right as the stallion turned back toward them.

Silver reached to shake the stallion’s hoof, energetically.

“Pleasure to meet you, Princess,” the stallion replied in a deep voice.

“He runs things in Haverford up north, and works with the Corps part-time…Uh, recruitment.”

Silver smiled, while Terramar seemed to be bracing himself for an explosive reaction.

Silver blinked, as a realization came to her.

“You’re enlisting?”
“Considering,” Terramar explained, “Dad thinks it would be good for me.”

“Well I don’t. So that’s why you came up here?”

“And to say hi!” Terramar insisted, shakily.

“I think you’d make a great soldier,” Ocellus offered, despite Silver’s belligerence.

“Thank you,” Terramar said, “See that? Is that too much to ask?”

“Ocellus!” came a voice from deeper in the crowd.

Silver briefly glanced away, before sternly sticking her claw in Terramar’s face. “We’ll finish this later.”

Terramar rolled his eyes, right as a young changeling emerged from the crowd, dull turquoise with deep purple eyes and wings of bright amaranth.

Ocellus hesitated, struggling to recall the boy’s name.

“Malthos,” Ocellus said at last, reluctantly allowing the young changeling to rush in for a hug.

“And you must be Silver Stream,” Malthos croaked, “You’re just as lovely as everyone says.”

Malthos cleared his throat and approached Silver with an outstretched hoof.

Silver mustered up the courage to shake his hoof, while Terramar winced in discomfort.

“Uh…thanks,” Silver Stream said, her smile beginning to fade.

Ocellus’ eyes were meanwhile drawn towards the boy’s father, who had come storming over after him.

“My King,” Ocellus said, bowing her head as soon as Pharynx had reached them.

“Ocellus,” Pharynx grunted, while motioning for Malthos to rejoin him, “So this is where you ran off to.”

“Um, yeah, sorry about that.”

“I invited her,” Silver said, unaware that lies rarely went unnoticed by a changeling.

“Of course,” Pharynx said, indifferent to the truth of the matter, “It’s good you're here, Princess, your brother too. I never had the chance to offer my condolences for your aunt.”

“Thank you,” Silver said, glancing at Terramar to keep quiet and let her do the talking, “And your brother, too, it’s awful what happened.”

Pharynx’s eyes flashed red, as if the mere reference to Thorax was enough to set his heart ablaze.

“Awful, yes. While his killer roams free.”

Silver caught Ocellus’ glare, wary of Pharynx, who towered over the rest of them.

“Soon enough I should remedy that,” Pharynx continued, “...Oh, but don’t let me spoil your fun. This is my son, Malthos. He would be delighted to make your acquaintance. Wouldn’t he?”

Malthos nodded his head, his eyes locked onto Silver Stream.

“I trust you’ll take care of yourselves,” Pharynx said, almost as a warning, “These days, we should better stick together.”

Pharynx’s eyes lingered on Silver, before he at last turned back to wade through the crowd, dragging Malthos behind him.

Silver glanced at Ocellus and Terramar, both of whom seemed to agree with her cause for concern. They may just be in more danger than they realized.

The prince sunk into his seat, his crimson tunic studded in snowflakes, his eyes heavy with exhaustion.

The journey back to the Crystal City had frozen over the fire in his heart.

He could not do it, he told himself, he could not turn against his own family.

Cadance is family too.

He shook his head in dismay, while the uproar of voices grew louder, reeling him back into reality.

The provinces of the Crystal Empire had not gathered together in one place since the rise of King Sombra, thousands of moons beyond memory.

The Reindeer and the Moose had their roots dug the deepest, though their dominion over the north was lost with the arrival of the Frost Ponies. Now they had only a fraction of the grandeur they once enjoyed.

From the Far North, there came the Ice Ponies, a meek bunch who kept to themselves mostly, hidden away in the Frozen Wastes of Selene. The Novadori dwelled nearby, the descendants of those Frost Ponies who had inter-mixed with the ancient Mountain Clans.

In the East, there were the mighty Selvites, a rambunctious bunch of malcontents, who were ever at war with the wild barbarians that dwelled in the Crystal Mountains.

In the West, adrift from the Crescent Shore, the Dains hailed. Ponies of great stature and strength, their raids had scourged the coasts for thousands of years, and only since the reign of Princess Cadance had they finally put aside their brutish ways.

And lastly was the Yaks, who had long defied conquest, whose wrath over their late prince had boiled over.

In ancient days, there was rarely a time where two or more of the kingdoms were not at war with one another. Only the strength of the Crystal Empire had been able to unite them all, and so it was once again.

Shining Armor eyed the lot of them, who sat around the great round table, a great slice of diamond cut from the heart of Mount Everhoof. The room itself was at the highest floor of the palace, where the walls glimmered with a hundred colors, alongside the collection of trophies and artifacts of centuries prior. A great diamond chandelier hung above the table, which sat close to forty in all.

Shining had expected a brawl to ensue within minutes of the meeting’s beginning, with fiery tempers all around.

“My prince,” came Broadwing, who was seated at Shining’s right, alongside his mother Primrose, and younger brother Orion, “...Before we begin, you ought to read this.”

He spoke in a low mutter, making sure he was not overheard by the others at the table, who were caught up in their arguments.

Broadwing placed a sealed envelope on the table in front of Shining, who eyed Broadwing suspiciously.

“Dragons?” Shining muttered, recognizing the seal on the wax.

Broadwing appeared equally baffled, and waited for Shining to tear open the envelope, drawing out the letter inside.

Shining spared just a few seconds to skim it over, before scoffing in contempt.

“Empress Cinder is prepared to invade Equestria,” Shining said, bluntly, glancing back at Broadwing, “She wants our support.”

“Fate's been kind to us, my prince,” Broadwing grinned. Shining eyed him, and he was not so sure he agreed.

“Dragons, you say!” roared out Torak the Dain, a red-bearded stallion with a black ashy dent stuck in his forehead. He had overheard Shining Armor, who had meant to keep that information quiet.

“Then the south will burn, and Canterlot is ours for the taking!” Torak barked, raising his hooves in the air, as if they had already completed the task.

The cohorts of Torak all came roaring and hollering in excitement.

“Dragons or not, we would be marching to our graves,” came Lady Primrose, sternly, “They outnumber us five to one.”

Broadwing sat up in his seat, hesitant to speak out against his own mother, whose voice demanded silence from the table.

“Twilight Sparkle kill brother,” boomed Prince Rutger, Chief of the Yaks, “She kill Cadance next. Us, too. Or, we fight.”

“They could have supply lines up by tomorrow, they could have trenches and barricades up at the border before we even had time to organize,” Primrose continued, “We ought to try something more diplomatic, before provoking more of an incident.”

“She’s right,” croaked the Great Moose, Magnus, withered in age, twice the size of a pony, “What’s to stop your sister from cutting Cadance’s throat, the moment she hears our soldiers have crossed the mountains?”

“Playing coy won’t bring her back any sooner,” Broadwing snapped, speaking on Shining Armor’s behalf, earning a scornful glare from his mother, “Twilight Sparkle wants Princess Flurry Heart as a hostage as well, to keep us in line. If we don't comply, she'll make the first move against us. We need to act now. If the dragons go to war, Twilight’s armies will be stretched thin.”

“The Highlands are treacherous grounds,” Magnus countered, “The coastal settlements are firmly in the crown’s grasp, and marching straight toward the Heart would put us in a chokehold. There’s no way south.”

“There is,” Broadwing said, stealing a map from the nearby Prince Sweyn of the Novadori, “If we take Seaguard, we’ll have an avenue to strike from the sea at the Smoky Shore, and from the sea, we can keep Vanhoover and Saddleopolis and Tall Tale busy. In the meantime, we continue pulling support from the Highlands, in Shimmerspear, Starhaven, and Haverford. We close off land travel to Manehattan and the northeast, and cut southwest, surrounding them. Then we can push south, lay siege to Canterlot, and find where they’ve stowed Princess Cadance.”

“There you have it,” laughed Torak, thirsty for blood.

“I’m with the boy,” said Prince Vitreum of the Selvites, glancing around at the others with a vulture’s gaze.

Shining Armor narrowed his eyes, wary of his compatriots’ appetite for war.

“We must rescue Cadance, no matter the cost!” exclaimed Sweyn, rising to his hooves, “I am not much of a fighter. But for our princess, there is no other choice.”

Prince Ivan the Elder, the Reindeer, whose horns rose into the air like a pair of twisted swords, rose next, “She would do the same for any of us,” he said, glaring right at Shining Armor, “Flurry Heart could be next. And if what Cadance said about Twilight is true, her life may be at even greater risk than we first thought.”

“This is a losing fight,” Primrose said, bitterly, “Cadance would not want any one of us to give their life for a futile effort.”

“Mother,” Broadwing said, struggling to keep from speaking up.

“We have no soldiers to spare,” came Lady Epulaea of the Ice Ponies.

“And what little we have, we would lose within a week,” Magnus said, waving off the ravenous glares of the Dains and the Selvites.

Broadwing rose to his hooves, and soon all eyes were on him.

“Each of you swore oaths. To Cadance, to your prince,” Broadwing said, glancing at Shining Armor, “And to the Empire. We were each bred for war, you all know it. Does your blood no longer run cold?”

Magnus rose to his hooves next, angrily raising his hoof towards Broadwing.

“I have lived two of your lifetimes, boy,” he growled, “The risk is too high! Cadance may very well be dead already.”

“Then we ought to follow her,” Broadwing replied, “To death, or to victory, we must take action.”

Orion joined his brother at his side, as did Torak and Vitreum, and the smaller representatives who were too afraid to speak.

All eyes turned to Shining Armor, who was pawing at the table, disturbed.

He glanced back up around the table, at each pair of eyes, and he thought again of Flurry Heart, of what he was putting at risk.

He rose to join the others, to Primrose’s regret.

“I don't want war,” Shining said, glaring over at Torak and Vitreum, “...But this is a question of justice, of loyalty. Cadance brought us all back together. So for her sake, let us all die together.”

Torak sounded off with an explosive cry of wrath, and was followed by the pounding of hooves on the table, echoing throughout the halls of the castle.

And the hall erupted then, creatures all around the table cheering. Broadwing smiled at the sight, that was until he noticed his mother’s glare.

Orion found Broadwing after the crowd had dispersed, filing off into the Great Hall for a celebratory feast.

Broadwing had just finished exchanging words with Windchill, a young captain in the Crystal Guard, before Orion ran up to grab him by the hoof.

“Politics suits you. I hardly recognized you back there,” he laughed.

“You know I’m in love with the sound of my own voice,” Broadwing smiled.

“You got through to them, even that old moose, I couldn’t believe it!”

“Neither can I.” Primrose had taken both of the stallions by surprise, waiting patiently for the last remnants of the crowd to empty out of the round table hall, before she could be alone with them.

“Mother, I-”

“Your callous war-mongering may very well have killed us all,” Primrose said, incredulously, “Has nothing I’ve said gotten through to you? You have responsibilities now, responsibilities that you should be taking seriously.”

“I understand my responsibilities,” Broadwing insisted, “Just as I understand my duty. Father would have done the same.”

Primrose shook her head.

“Shining Armor’s word is final, I cannot change what’s been done,” Primrose said, “Though you may very wish I could have, someday.”

“I know the risks.”

“You know nothing,” Primrose corrected, “And you,” she said, turning her attention towards Orion, “I know for certain that you planted these foul notions in his head. Don’t think for a second you’ll be joining him in whatever doomed excursions he’s planned.”

“What? Mother, I-”

“He had nothing to do with anything,” Broadwing interrupted.

“I should be fighting with the others!” Orion exclaimed.

“We need able bodies,” Broadwing added.

“I will find use for him,” Primrose said, shifting her gaze away from Orion, “But he will not be marching under my husband’s banner.”

Orion held his tongue, struggling to keep from lashing out at her.

He was a unicorn, unlike the rest of his family, who each wore a set of wings. The prospect of war had attracted him, if only for the chance to prove his worth in spite of a life of infamy.

Primrose glared at him with contempt. She was not his, or so she believed, though nonetheless she would not see the both of them die somewhere far from home. His resentment toward her was bearable, but an avoidable demise was certainly not. “On this matter, my word is final.”

She left the two of them in silence, as Orion hung his head in defeat.

“I’ll try talking to her.”

“I thought even if I was never one of you, I could die like one of you," Orion said.

“You are one of us,” Broadwing said, grabbing Orion by the shoulders, “I'll make her see reason. I need your help out there. Yeah? Now c’mon. Today we celebrate. Tomorrow, we go to war.”

Orion followed after his brother, his head held low.

Rose petals leapt across rain puddles and marble dust, where the wind had doubled down in its wrath. It was nearly noon, when Marius Moonshine arrived at the palace’s west-spire apartments, across a narrow bridge three stories high.

Marius wiped the sweat from his brow, shuffling out of the cold past the tower gate.

The apartments were cluttered with palace visitors - most of whom were unaware that just days prior, Cadance’s crystal host had been slaughtered right there in their beds. The blood has since been scrubbed off, though Marius could still make out the sickly smell of rotting flesh.

Marius had to push through passing clusters of servants and royal guards, before arriving at the end of the hall.

Room 320.
He landed three simple knocks on the door, before checking behind his shoulder.

The door creaked open, and a young stallion’s red eye made itself known in the resulting crack.

“Moonshine?” the stallion asked.

“At your service,” Marius replied, bowing his head.

The door swung open, slowly, revealing the rest of the stallion. He was a pale rose in color, with curly gold locks, the color of the sun.

He stepped aside, allowing Marius to enter the room, which was alive with light, and at the center of it all, was a glistening bronze tabletop, cluttered with parchments and inks, vials of wine, and stacks of letters.

And behind the table sat the other occupant of the room, an older mare with similar features to the stallion - a pale rose coat, and a thin mane of white, hidden underneath a chaperon and veil.

“You’re late,” the mare muttered, coldly, as she wrapped up her paperwork.

“Lady Azimuth, and Hydrangea,” Marius began, pausing while the young stallion took his seat on the other side of the room, helping himself to some leftover basket figs.

“I wanted to personally welcome you to Canterlot. The city is blessed by your presence.”

“The city is blessed by my presence,” Azimuth repeated, amused, “Does that work on the other mares, Marius? Are you here to seduce me?”

“A bit obvious, perhaps.”

“Oh no, please, seduce away. It’s been so long. But you have come mincing all this way for something. So what is it?”

“Might I sit?” Marius asked, moving towards a nearby chair.

“No,” Azimuth said, stopping him in his tracks, “You sought me out. I’m curious as to why.”

“...You’ve taken an interest in the young Princess Silver Stream.”

“Have I?” Azimuth smiled, “I’ve yet to speak to the girl. Perhaps you need better spies.”

“Ah, my mistake for wasting your time then.”

“Come, come then, you surrender rather easily,” Azimuth laughed, reaching for two empty glasses on her table. She poured out some of her wine, offering it to him.

Marius reluctantly accepted the glass, sipping at it delicately, as though he was unsure of its contents.

“I pick my allies carefully,” Marius explained, “My enemies more so.”

“And which is Silver Stream?”

“Neither. I admired her aunt.”

“Yes, Novo had many admirers. As did Posh Paramount, and Filibuster, and Thorax. How many stepped forward when they were each put to death?” Azimuth said.

“I could not help them. But perhaps I could help this girl.”

Azimuth lifted an eyebrow.

“You’re not the only one who’s taken an interest in her," Marius continued.

“Is that so?” Azimuth cooed.

“She’d make a lovely match for the right suitor,” Marius said, glancing over at the young Hydrangea on the sofa, “Word of the offer has swept through Equestria. Pharynx, Featherglass, countless others, they’ll each be vying for her. Twilight will be satisfied as long as a match is made, and soon.”

“And why have you come to me with this offer?”

“The new dragon empress, Cinder, she’s more ruthless than her predecessor. She’s nearly a match for Twilight Sparkle, and we both know what the latter is capable of.”

“Careful, Marius. One might take those words for treason.”

“The plain truth is that if war breaks out with two tyrants leading the charge…I fear the resulting devastation would be irremediable. There is a way to force negotiations, and it requires leverage. While her mother wears the crown, Silver Stream is the key to the Hippogriff fleet.”

“And the wrong suitor would have the key in his pocket,” Azimuth presumed.

“Precisely. But I believe I have a solution.”

“Oh, you don’t need to be so clever for that.”

The two of them glanced over at Hydrangea on the sofa, whose eyes began to widen.

Hydrangea adjusted his helmet, though his bouncy blonde locks made sure it never sat even atop his head. He came to regret the effort, however, ramming into a marble column headfirst.

The palace gardens were nearly empty that day, save for Hydrangea and his patrol partner, Valance. The gardens were lush with ferns and flowers from across the sea, thriving despite the change in biome. Pinks, blues, and golds attracted bees and butterflies, buzzing around clay pottery and antique fountain statues. The gardens reminded him best of his palace back home in Irwind, the seat from which his family ruled the duchy of Augusta, southwest of proper Equestria.

“Watch yourself, kid,” came Valance, huffing on a cigarette in spite of palace policy, “You’re gonna walk right off the battlements one of these days.”

He waited for Hydrangea to recalibrate himself, before stomping out the cigarette and stealing an orange off a low-hanging branch.

Valance was a stocky stallion, with a snow-white coat and a charcoal-grey mane. Engraved on his golden plate armor was the symbol of the Nine, Twilight’s hand-picked roster of personal guards.

“What’s the matter with you?” Valance asked.

“Just…distracted, is all,” Hydrangea muttered.

“You say that every day,” Valance laughed, “What is it? Worn-out mattress?”

“Worse. A girl,” Hydrangea said.

“Ah. Don’t worry. You’ll get a better distraction soon enough, if the papers are right. Dragons are stockpiling weapons, they say.”

Hydrangea meant to respond, before his eyes wandered over to the southern garden gate, where a new pair of creatures had just passed through. Hydrangea cleared his throat. His mother had given him a task to complete, he recalled, and this might just be his chance.

He broke off away from Valance, who had just torn into a package of cigarettes.

“Where are you off to?” Valance demanded, between bites of the orange.

But Hydrangea paid him no mind, strutting off into the garden.

“Silver Stream,” he said, catching her and Ocellus by surprise.

Silver Stream’s heart fluttered; she recognized the stallion from the School of Friendship Fall Formal two semesters ago. He looked older now, and even more to her liking.

“Hydrangea! It’s great to see you!” Silver exclaimed, “You remember Ocellus,” she continued, glancing down at her changeling companion.

“How could I forget? I wouldn’t have passed Applejack's class without her.”

“You’re here for the Gala?” Silver asked.

Hydrangea nodded.

“Just got in yesterday. The roads weren’t kind to us, I’m afraid. We came across a cragadile in the Deep Wood, bigger than our carriage. It took six of us to set the beast running off, I’ll tell you all about it later. Now they’ve already put me to work. It’d be a delightful bore, if I wasn’t allergic to the pollen,” Hydrangea said, before bellowing out a sneeze.

Silver Stream giggled, and glanced down at Ocellus.

“Well, I’m super glad you got here in one piece. I, uh, missed you.”

“Yes, well, a journey’s worth nothing if not for a reward in mind. Getting to see you, I mean.”

Silver Stream hesitated, noticing how he had moved closer toward her, and how his eyes were locked onto hers.

“We’ll have to catch up later. I promise I’ll make time,” Hydrangea assured, reaching for Silver’s claws.

He wanted her, she imagined he would have said, only, something about the look in his eyes told her none of this was real. And even with the blood rushing to her head, a thought crept ever closer. He wanted her. Malthos, too, and how many more?

That’s why I’m here.

Hydrangea glanced back at Valance, who was idly resting against a pillar.

“Until then,” Hydrangea said, smiling for a brief moment before adjusting his helmet and rushing back to rejoin Valance.

Silver glanced at Ocellus, who was equally as dumbstruck.

“I think I’ve got a hunch about what this is all about now,” Ocellus said, flatly.

“No shit,” Silver said, though her shock quickly turned to anger.

“I’ve got to find my mom.”

Scarlet shades of the afternoon sun sifted through the window film, where a purple pair of eyes kept watch over the city below.

Featherglass sat at the desk of his office, ignoring the rambunctious market commotion from down in the city streets.

The door came open, and in came the charcoal-headed Sergeant Valance, out of breath and covered in crumbs.

“Sorry I’m late, sir,” Valance wheezed, shutting the door behind him.

“No trouble,” Featherglass said, dropping his pen and turning to face his new guest.

“Have a seat,” Featherglass said, motioning towards one of the red leather chairs near the door. Reaching for a nearby bottle of cider, he poured a tall glass for the exhausted sergeant, and a smaller amount for himself.

And along with the glass, Featherglass left a small sack of bits sitting on the coffee table in front of Valance.

Valance dove into the bag, inspecting its contents.

“It’s all there?” Valance asked.

Featherglass nodded his head and took his seat opposite to Valance, who quickly stuck the sack into his satchel, grinning like a foal.

“What have you found?” Featherglass asked.

“The kid’s after the hippogriff, just like you thought.”

“...I suppose it’s not out of the question that Azimuth would shop off her own son, though I imagine she had help.”

“I picked up Hydrangea at the apartments today. I saw Moonshine with him, the two of them were talking," Valance reported.

Featherglass smirked. “He wants to get under my skin, I think.”

“You’re just going to let this happen?” Valance asked.

“Silver Stream isn’t going to marry anypony. Her worth is temporary, and greater still as a means of leverage than an ally.”

Featherglass smiled to himself, amused.

“Keep what you know to yourself,” Featherglass instructed, “I may need your help again, soon enough.”

“Sure thing, Boss,” Valance grinned, finishing his cider and rising to his hooves.

Featherglass raised his glass instead of waving goodbye, and began to finish his drink, smiling still.

Silver Stream found her mother still abed, buried in her sheets while the windows were drawn shut. She shut the door behind her, startling Ocean Flow awake.

“So that’s why you dragged me here?”

Ocean Flow lifted her head out from the blankets, confused.

“What is it, dear?”

“You’re trying to proffer me to the highest bidder, is that it?”

Ocean Flow sighed and sat herself up, half-awake.

“...Princess Twilight believes it’s what’s best for Equestria. We have to stand together, or else we'll all turn against one another. You’re too young to understand. It was inevitable anyhow, ever since…” Ocean Flow said, trailing off, “I didn’t want to go behind your back, but I knew you would put up a fight otherwise.”

“Of course, how silly of me, to have a mind of my own. I’m not marrying.”

“What about that Hydrangea stallion? I thought you liked him.”

“I do, but not like that, and not like this, and…This is all wrong!”

Silver turned to storm out of the bed-chamber.

“Silver Stream,” Ocean Flow called, though Silver had already slammed the door shut.

Silver rushed down the corridor in search of Ocellus, though it was a stranger’s voice who found her first, around the corner leading into the west-end stairwell.

“Ah, Princess…”

Silver came to a halt, turning towards the shadowy hall where the voice had emerged.

“....Featherglass, right?” Silver said, and was simply glad it wasn’t Hydrangea, or worse, Malthos.

“Is something wrong?” Featherglass asked, noticing she was out of breath.

Silver shook her head, before deciding she could not stop herself from releasing her frustration.

“My own mother brought me here to sell me off,” Silver Stream said, “Excuse me if I’m not in a talking mood.”

Featherglass laughed, resting against the stone wall across the hall. “Things are heating up out there, I’m sure you’ve noticed."

“Yeah…I just don’t get what I have to do with it.”

“Your mother wears the crown now. An alliance would be advantageous, for our princess, or any one of her underlings, for that matter.”

“But not you, right,” Silver said, rolling her eyes.

Featherglass smirked, and shrugged, seemingly indifferent to her presumption.

“One should always choose his battles carefully. This time, I prefer not to be involved,” Featherglass said, “I should warn you, if you mean to act like an obstacle, you’ll be treated like one.”

“What do you recommend then?” Silver Stream asked, bluntly.

“They see you as a piece of meat, to fawn over like a last meal, before whatever war soils the better chances. Twilight, Azimuth, Pharynx, none of them care for your thoughts on the matter. Perhaps not even your mother.”

Silver’s eyes fell to the floor.

“If I don’t marry….there will be war?”

“Twilight tells herself so. But war is coming no matter what, whether she will admit it or not. If you go through with this marriage, no matter the groom, you’ll be little more than a hostage, for years on end perhaps. Your armies will be forced to fight, your brother might even be among them.”

Silver bit her lip, anxiously, and hung her head in despair.

“I’ve…I’ve got to go.”

Featherglass watched the hippogriff scamper off, and again leaned back against the wall, content.

Wallflower winced at the last stroke of the brush against her eyelash, as the pressure began to build inside her head. Suri inspected her work from various angles, taking extra care with the finishing touches.

She had spared no expense on Wallflower’s behalf, having retrieved a half-shattered mirror from the alley outside and some of Mandola’s old Hearths’ Warming lights, together with an antique mahogany dresser to assemble a makeshift vanity.

“Are you finished yet? We’re gonna be late,” Lightning said from nearby, while teasing Scampers with a crumb of cheese.

“These things take time, Dust, not that you would know,” Suri muttered, “This is the Grand Galloping Gala. Only the classiest ponies in Equestria will be there. She has to fit in with the rest of them. I won't have Wallflower waltzing into that palace looking tacky.”

Wallflower had endured three hours of Suri’s preparations, and could feel her muscles beginning to tense up, as the clock crept closer to striking six.

Bon Bon had arrived earlier that day, having spent the week traveling back to Ponyville to retrieve one of her counterfeit Golden Tickets, as well as some other personal belongings that she had left behind. Photographs, memorabilia, even an old childhood toy of Lyra’s, that she had refused to give up. Bon Bon had left as soon as she had everything she needed. She had not wavered yet, not while each step forward brought her closer to what she wanted, to what she needed, closer to revenge. Twilight Sparkle would not evade her. Nopony ever had.

“You’re sure you know what you’re doing?” Wallflower grumbled.

“Well, it has been a while, ‘kay, but…here, tell me what you think,” Suri said.

Suri spun Wallflower around in her chair, sending her face-to-face with her reflection in the mirror.

Wallflower hardly recognized the pony she saw; her unkempt curls had been tucked and weaved into billowing locks of pristine green, and her bangs had been replaced by two curls coiling left and right over the rest of her mane, which had been pulled towards the back.

She got a better look at the dress Suri had stuffed her into as well; a billowing lacy gown, cerulean in color, twirling down into shocks of deeper blue. The satin corset fastened around her waist rose to her chest, beneath tufts of flowery silk that wrapped around her shoulders. Suri had spent all week working on the dress, an old design that she may or may not have come up with herself.

“I must say, I’ve outdone myself,” Suri boasted, shutting her eyes and smiling up toward the ceiling.

“I…I…Uh…Oh gosh,” Wallflower muttered, uneasily, “...I don’t know if I can do this.”

“What?” Suri exclaimed, “You can’t call it quits now, this wasn’t easy, you know!”

“What’s the matter?” Lightning asked, flying over towards them.

“I’m not sure I’m cut out for this,” Wallflower said, hanging her head, “I don’t really do this kind of stuff. I’m gonna screw up, I just know it.”

“You’re in and out. The worst part will be having to put up with those rich schmucks. Don’t sweat a thing. We’ll be right outside. You’re gonna be fine. Right, Suri?” Lightning asked.

Suri had not been paying attention, until Lightning nudged her in the side.

“Uh, yeah, right. You’re gonna do great,” Suri coughed.

Wallflower sighed, and reminded herself of what the alternative was; Sunset wreaking more havoc. She knew there was a better side to her, she just needed to show them all that it was possible.

Wallflower stood up, careful not to crumple or tear her dress, and shuffled over towards the door leading up into the alleyway outside.

There, they found Sunset and Bon Bon, who had just finished stocking Moon Dancer’s carriage with boxes of their equipment.

“Wallflower?” Sunset exclaimed, “I hardly recognized you!”

“That’s the idea,” Suri added, digging through her purse for a cigarette.

“Hey, uh, Wallflower,” Lightning said, approaching Wallflower.

“Yeah?” she replied, her voice trembling.

“Good luck out there, OK? You’ve got this,” Lightning said, struggling to put the words together.

“Thanks,” Wallflower said, leaning in for a quick embrace. Lightning was caught by surprise, and she could feel Wallflower shaking uncontrollably, even under her grasp. Lightning held her for a moment, before Sunset had the chance to call out to her.

“Flygirl! You’ll be helping Moon Dancer out in the carriage. Keep her company, she needs to lighten up.”

Lightning backed away from Wallflower and glanced over to Sunset. She nodded her head, hoping that Moon Dancer had become less hostile than during her arrival at the bodega.

Wallflower held her dress up with her hooves as she trotted off after Lightning into the carriage, wary of spoiling the fabric with any of the muck and grime that covered the pavement.

The carriage was large enough to hold ten ponies, though much of the space was already taken up by Moon Dancer’s various gadgets and modules. Television screens displayed news networks, CCTV of various locations in the city, and even video feeds of the carriage’s surroundings.

“What the hell does she need all of this stuff for?” Lightning wondered.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” growled Moon Dancer, who had popped her head out from a lower compartment in the carriage, fiddling with tangled wires, colored red, gold, blue, and green.

“A little help?” Moon Dancer squirmed, struggling to lift herself out of the compartment.

Lightning stuck out her hoof, and was hardly surprised to receive no ounce of gratitude.

“I’m Lightning Dust, by the way,” Lightning said.

“Never heard of her,” Moon Dancer spat, “Hold these.”

Lightning begrudgingly accepted the clump of wires that Moon Dancer plopped down in her hooves. Moon Dancer left the room in an instant, leaving Lightning unsure what to do.

Sunset, Suri, and Bon Bon joined them inside, the latter carrying with them a wound-up scroll of parchment.

“Your ticket,” Bon Bon said, handing over one of her Golden Tickets to Wallflower, who had never seen one in real life before.

“The palace is going to be on high alert, with all the riots,” Bon Bon explained, “But there are some passageways that the guards don’t know about, that wind all around through the foundations.”

Bon Bon sprawled out the parchment on a nearby table, revealing a rough schematic of the palace layout, along with additional notations scribbled in the margins.

“This tunnel, right here,” Bon Bon said, pointing at the map, “Should take you to the second-floor lounge. It should be locked, nopony has any business being there.”

“So that’s where I should bring Fancy Pants?” Wallflower asked.

“That’s right.”

“What about patrols?” Sunset asked.

Bon Bon glanced at Wallflower.

“Ideally they won’t be around. Otherwise, try not to make too much of a scene.”

“And where will you be?” Suri asked.

“We’ve got barely a week left before Mandola kicks us out of here,” Bon Bon reminded, “You guys finish this business with Razor Blade, and I’ll try to find a way to get Mandola his bits.”

“With how much you owe him, you’d need a fortune,” Moon Dancer remarked from the driver’s compartment, “And this plan of yours isn’t going to work. We’re all going to die,”

“That’s the spirit,” Sunset chided, “...It’s almost six. Are we ready?”

Lightning nodded her head, eagerly, while Suri sighed and Moon Dancer scoffed. Wallflower was the last to nod her head, gulping down her fears.

“Showtime.”

Beneath the terrace pavilion, Marius Moonshine lifted his hood, escaping the rain just as it began to engulf the city.

“You’ve got a funny sense of timing,” laughed the pony who was there waiting for him, a snow-white stallion with a charcoal-grey mane.

“Must we do this out in the open?” Marius muttered, reaching into his belt to retrieve a small pouch of gold.

“I’m on patrol, pal. Some of us have jobs beyond eavesdropping,” Valance rebuked.

“Get on with it,” Marius spat, stuffing the pouch in Valance’s hoof. He eagerly untied it and inspected its contents, seemingly satisfied.

“You spoke with Featherglass?” Marius asked.

“I did. Told him Azimuth came up with the plan. I left you out.”

“That won’t matter, he’ll know,” Marius replied, not that he believed Valance anyway.

“It's not like what you thought. He doesn’t want to marry her or anything like that. Not yet anyway. She’s just leverage to him, he said. If she don't marry, there'll be war, and that's what he wants, I expect. Wants to stir up chaos, it looks.”

Marius nodded, relieved.

“Keep an eye on him.”

“Sure thing, Boss,” Valance chirped, struggling to light up a damp cigarette.

Marius shuddered in the cold and ventured back into the rain, though came to a quick halt.

“Be careful,” Marius warned, “Featherglass is a dangerous pony to cross.”

“Right,” Valance grinned, planting his hoof on his sword belt, “I’d like to see him try.”

31st Avenue was packed to the brim, ponies arriving in black limousines to camera flashes and red carpets. The Gala guests were each dressed in top-of-the-line attire, trotting up the path toward the palace gate. From across the street, Moon Dancer’s carriage had come strolling up against the curb, beside a lamppost and a mailbox.

The five of them were packed together inside the carriage, to Moon Dancer’s annoyance. Lightning was practically on top of her, having spent the entire ride fiddling with each button on the control pad.

“What did I just say? No touching!” Moon Dancer yelled.

“Sorry,” Lightning said, resisting the urge to continue.

Sunset and Suri were huddled together over the map of the palace, trying their best to memorize their route inside.

Wallflower, meanwhile, tried her best to ignore her nerves, as the muffled voices outside began to grow in number. She felt like throwing up.

Sunset had noticed Wallflower trembling in the corner, though kept her attention on the map. This was their last chance to find out the truth, they couldn’t afford any mistakes.

“Hey, Miss Equestria,” Moon Dancer said, trotting over to Wallflower “Stick these in your ears.”

Moon Dancer handed her a pair of earpieces, small enough to lose if she wasn’t careful.

“So we can communicate.”

Wallflower obliged her, reluctantly sticking the plastic plugs in her ears.

She only heard dull static, that was until a shrill spike tore out of the speakers, prompting her to jump in shock.

“Oops,” Lightning winced, having accidentally brushed against the microphone on Moon Dancer’s work desk.

Moon Dancer growled something under her breath and shoved Lightning out of her way.

“I fixed some micro-cameras onto that necklace and those earrings, so we can keep an eye out for you.” Moon Dancer said, “You’re welcome.”

Wallflower nodded, nervously inspecting the jewelry.

Moon Dancer eyed her up and down, and seemed somewhat content.

“Well, you look the part, at least. But you better be careful.”

“I will.”

“There’s a lot of ponies out there,” Suri remarked, glancing out the window of the carriage.

“Just keep a low profile,” Sunset said, though Wallflower gave no reply.

She had volunteered for this, she kept reminding herself, this was her choice. But part of her would have given anything to turn back, to spare herself the risk of getting herself killed. Or worse, that her fantasy of finishing the job without bloodshed was unattainable, that Sunset had been right all along. Just one slip up and catastrophe might follow. She held off from sharing such thoughts with the others, for fear of making herself even more of a burden. She had to prove her worth to them, prove that she was capable. This was her chance.

“Hey, you OK?” Sunset asked.

“Yeah. No. Yeah. Sorry,” Wallflower replied.

“You sure you want to do this? We can always-”

“I can do it,” Wallflower insisted, “I’m OK.”

Sunset glanced at Suri, who rolled her eyes, unconvinced.

“If you need to get out of there, just give us a call,” Lightning said, clenching her hooves, “You know I’m always ready for a fight.”

“If we can do this without getting in any fights, it’s worth a shot,” Wallflower reminded, glancing back at Sunset.

“See you on the other side,” Sunset said, complemented by a mock-salute.

Suri had a handle on the rear doors of the carriage, and turned back for Wallflower’s nod of approval.

“Let’s do this.”

Chandeliers cast stray bands of torchlight buckling against curtains of rose gold, bending through chilled bottles of champagne. By columns of old marble, flower petals seeped into the palace foyer, blue, indigo, and violet, littering the white tile of the ballroom deeper into the heart of the palace.

Wallflower Blush twirled her hoof around a curly strand of her mane, keeping her head down as she made her way towards the garden gate.

You’ll be fine.

The crowds had already gathered in the garden courtyard, where pink flowers wound up the vines that hung tightly to the perimeter’s columns and arches. Birds of exotic origin had been imported and put on display, each bearing a unique coat of colors.

There were two guards posted at the courtyard’s entrance, both of whom appeared exhausted with the tedious line of ponies that never seemed to end.

Wallflower kept her eyes on the ground when it was her turn, meekly sticking her ticket in the guard’s hoof.

The guard inspected the ticket, front and back, and glared back at Wallflower.

“Go on,” he said, motioning for her to move along.

Wallflower tried to contain her excitement, despite part of her having wanted to be turned down right then and there, so that she might not have to go through with this.

I have to do this.

“Wallflower,” came the voice of Sunset through the earpiece she had been given, “You’re in?”

“Yeah,” Wallflower replied, unsure where to go next, “There’s a lot of ponies here…”

“There’s no rush. Settle in first, then find Fancy Pants. Suri and I will be off soon.”

Sunset’s voice fell into static, and Wallflower focused her attention back to the cluttered crowd of ponies sharing drinks, laughs, and stories of home.

Inside the carriage, Moon Dancer paid attention to three of her module screens, displaying the grainy feedback from the miniature cameras stuck in Wallflower’s earrings and necklace. Lightning hovered over her, eagerly trying to make out who was who in the crowd.

“Ever heard of personal space?” Moon Dancer muttered.

“We better get out of here,” Sunset said, nodding for Suri to follow after.

“Moon Dancer, you keep an eye on Wallflower. Dust, you too.”

“Will do,” Lightning replied.

“Whatever,” Moon Dancer said.

Meanwhile, at the Gala, Wallflower was not sure what to expect at first, and quickly became disoriented, losing track of where she was in a matter of seconds.

Wallflower stole a glass of champagne off a waiter’s passing tray, hoping to blend in and stick to herself.

She backed up, nervously attempting to regain her bearings.

She nearly dropped her glass, when she came crashing into something from behind her. Her face fell in horror, when she realized it wasn’t something, but rather, somepony.

“I’m so sorry!” Wallflower exclaimed, raising her voice to be heard above the crowd.

“Hey, no worries,” replied the pony, whose smile put Wallflower at ease.

The pony was a royal guard, a unicorn, hard-tan in color, with a fiery mane of reddish-brown. He was standing with another pony, a pale white mare with a raven-dark mane.

From the carriage, Moon Dancer leaned in closer toward the screen.

“Uh oh,” she muttered.

“What? What’s uh oh?” Lightning whispered.

“That’s-”

“Styles. Nice to meet you,” Styles said, shaking Wallflower’s hoof, “This is Venger. Hey, relax, clumsiness isn’t a capital offense.”

Wallflower faked some laughter, and wondered whether they could tell her heart was beating right out of her chest.

“You’re Twilight’s personal guards?” Wallflower asked, recalling the names of ponies Moon Dancer had instructed her to avoid. She could feel her heart beating right out of her chest.

Off to a great start.

“That’s right,” Styles replied, “Though it looks like her highness is still getting ready. Or maybe she’s not in the mood for all this. Can’t say I blame her, the things ponies have been saying lately.”

Wallflower glanced at the ground. While Styles may have been charming enough, Venger’s hard glare made her uneasy.

“It's all lies, what the news is saying, I just know it. And everypony who believes it are traitors,” Wallflower said, trying her best to round out her performance, “The sooner we lock them all up, the better.”

“She’s a natural!” cooed Lightning, ecstatic, while Moon Dancer shook her head in disbelief.

“Enough small talk. Get out of there,” Moon Dancer roared into the microphone.

Wallflower winced, while Styles seemed amused.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Styles laughed, “Oh, I never got your name.”

“Maybe later you’ll find out,” Wallflower smiled, before excusing herself.

Styles’ grin was stuck on his face, watching as she slipped away into the crowd.

“What happened to ‘keep a low profile?’” Moon Dancer stammered.

“So far so good, right?” Wallflower said, “C’mon, help me find Fancy Pants.”

She had little idea what the pony in question looked like, aside from some vague description offered by Bon Bon earlier that day.

Wallflower scanned the crowd, and nearly dropped her glass, when she almost made eye contact with the only pony she happened to recognize.

“What’s wrong?” Moon Dancer asked.

“Snowfall Glitter’s here,” Wallflower muttered, trying to stay out of the blonde pegasus’ line of sight from across the courtyard.

“She knows you guys?” Moon Dancer asked, turning to Lightning.

“Tried to kill us, more than once. Y’know, no big deal," Lightning said.

“Great. Wallflower's gonna get caught. And killed!”

“She knows what to do, give her a chance,” Lightning insisted.

Wallflower wandered off deeper into the crowd, and could feel her breath run short.

“Guys….I think I’m freaking out.”

Lightning glared at Moon Dancer, who had little to say in the way of comfort.

Lightning nudged her, aggressively.

Moon Dancer sighed, and flipped on the switch to the microphone.

“Um…You’re doing great.”

Lightning laughed.

“That was terrible.”

“I’m not exactly a first-draft pick for pep talks.”

Suri struggled to keep up with Sunset, who followed the route Bon Bon had specified, around the perimeter of the palace battlement, towards the western guard tower.

“That friend of yours better be right about this pony, ‘kay. If he doesn’t know anything, this will all be for nothing,” Suri muttered.

“Moon Dancer’s got good sense for these kinds of things, at least Bon Bon thinks so.”

“Razor Blade is dead because of me,” Suri said, bluntly, “Whoever’s after us, I can’t let them get away with it.”

“Well, you won’t have to wait much longer,” Sunset said, glancing around to make sure they had not been spotted.

“Wait, stop…This is it, this right here,” Suri said, squinting at the map, which was a challenge to read in the dark. They were still along the battlement wall, which rose twenty meters up in the air.

“You’re right,” Sunset said, glancing around at the wall, “She said it’d be hidden, that checks out…”

“So, how do we plan to-”

“Halt!”

Sunset froze, as did Suri, when the guard’s voice boomed out from behind them.

He was accompanied by a younger companion, together storming towards them with spears in hoof, from further down the battlement wall.

“Neither of you move,” barked one.

“Who are you?” called out the other guard, who couldn’t make out the ponies’ faces in the dark, “Show us your papers.”

Sunset glanced at Suri, hesitating to answer.

“I said-”

“Ah! Um…just give me a second, sir,” Suri interjected, as she began to fiddle with something in her purse.

Sunset caught on quick enough.

Her horn ignited, while both of the guards were still fixated on Suri and her purse.

In a flash of light, the closest guard collapsed to their knees, toppling over in the grass.

“Hey!” yelled the other, who lunged towards Sunset with his spear drawn.

Sunset dodged the attempt, blasting the guard in the head, sending him flying off towards the wall. He landed hard, sliding down to the ground in a heap.

Suri glanced down at the bodies, and back at Sunset.

“...Are they-”

“Alive,” Sunset confirmed, having begrudgingly accepted Wallflower’s parameters of conduct this time around, “Here, now we’ve got some disguises.”

Both were again caught off guard, when the sound of scraping stone screeched out from the wall.

A square-shaped indentation revealed itself in the stone right around where the guard was leaning against, pressing inwards a few inches.

“How about that,” Sunset grinned, running towards the wall and shoving the guard out of the way. She pressed against the stone, deeper and deeper until she heard the sound of clicking metal screws and grinding gears.

The square indentation, now six inches deep in the stone, began to retract towards the right, into a waiting cobweb-covered slot. In its wake, there was only darkness, a drafty breeze, and the distant sound of music and ponies’ voices.

Sunset and Suri crouched down around the tunnel hole, and glanced at one another, giddily.

“After you.”

Waltzing through the great doors of gilded oak and polished glittersteel, Silver Stream had arrived twenty minutes late, having struggled to climb into her gown, a snug cocoon of teal satin, that clung so tightly against her she was uncertain it would ever come off. And beside her at the doors was Ocellus, clad in a short, looser scarlet dress that made Silver just a tad jealous.

The guests were begrudged to be cheated out of the annual Wonderbolt performance, though the rumor made it clear that their resources were better spent elsewhere.

Preparing for war, more like, Silver Stream presumed.

“Come on, you need to cheer up,” Ocellus insisted, though Silver Stream was hardly in the mood.

They made their way through the crowd of comely aristocrats, and while Ocellus was immediately drawn towards the table of appetizers, Silver made her best effort at introducing herself to everypony she came across. Despite her sour spirits, she could not deny herself the chance to make some new friends.

The far end of the ballroom led into a larger balcony portion of the castle, where ponies enjoyed what little warmth remained to the night, as autumn began to set in. And on the east side, windows revealed a perilous drop into the city below, rivaling the stars themselves in their dizzying spectacle.

By a pair of pillars in the darker edge of the ballroom, King Pharynx had just finished exchanging words with one of his subordinates, when Marius Moonshine took him by surprise.

Marius had two glasses suspended in an aura of purple magic, raising one over for Pharynx to take.

Pharynx waved off the prospect, and glanced around to see who else might be lurking nearby.

“I was wondering how long it’d take,” Pharynx scoffed.

“For what?” Marius wondered.

Pharynx shook his head in disgust.

“I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling.”

Marius was hardly phased, finishing his glass and setting the other to the side, in case Pharynx changed his mind.

“Sitting on the fence, I see. Twilight would be pleased with you,” Marius said.

“I hope she thinks so,” Pharynx mocked, “Where is the princess? I had hoped to speak with her.”

“She’s still preparing herself, as I understand,” Marius said, “...You know, there are ponies in Equestria who feel a similar slight to your own. You might want to join them, before blood is spilt.”

“Blood was spilt a long time ago,” Pharynx corrected, “You may have been content to play along with that tyrant all this time. But since the day she took my brother’s head, I’ve only ever been concerned with one thing.”

“Lady Azimuth has agreed to betroth her son to Silver Stream,” Marius said, hurrying to the point, “As of now, the Azimuths control all trade in the South Lunar Sea; they make for a powerful ally. She has a daughter as well, Delphinium, and you have a son, Malthos. It would be wise for you to join forces and seal the alliance in matrimony.”

Pharynx grinned.

“You beg like a beaten dog. All I want is the hippogriff fleet. I don’t see the need for a middlepony, especially a decrepit whore like Lady Azimuth. The bitch and her pretty little pups are cutthroat opportunists, nothing more. I've had enough of trusting in ponies.”

“You’re making a mistake, my friend.”

Pharynx laughed and took the glass of champagne off the table.

“I’m going to get what I want, the way I see fit.”

Wallflower kept to the outskirts of the courtyard, patiently scanning through the crowd for Fancy Pants.

From the carriage, Moon Dancer rubbed her eyes, exhausted, while Lightning leaned in for a closer look.

“Wait, is that him?”

Moon Dancer shoved her out of the way.

“Wow, look at that, you’re not completely useless,” Moon Dancer growled, reaching for her microphone.

“Gee, thanks,” Lightning said.

“Wallflower. Turn left. Blue carnation.”

Wallflower picked up on Moon Dancer’s voice, and again inspected the crowd. She saw him, a large white unicorn with a combed blue mane and a mustache beaded with drops of champagne. He wore a white suit, and, just as Moon Dancer had said, a bright blue carnation.

“He’s with somepony,” Wallflower pointed out, noticing the pink-maned model following the stallion’s lead.

“No time to waste,” Moon Dancer said.

Wallflower teetered on through the crowd. She pretended to stumble, nearly running straight into Fancy Pants, who had to help steady her before she tripped over her heels.

“Good heavens, are you alright?” he asked, while Wallflower gazed up at him.

“Oh, how clumsy of me, um, gosh, I can be such a klutz! Ha ha!”

Fancy Pants glanced at his escort, baffled, before turning back to her, somewhat curious.

“I haven’t had the pleasure, my dear,” he said, warily.

“...I’m, um, happy to have changed that, then,” Wallflower said, forcing a smile, batting her eyelashes. She stuck out her hoof for Fancy Pants to shake, though he surprised her with a kiss instead.

“Fleur, darling, run along and fetch us some Bollinger. Hm?” Fancy Pants said, while his eyes remained fixed on Wallflower.

The mare muttered something under her breath and scurried off, leaving the two in peace.

“Wallflower. We’re all set, ready for you,” came Sunset’s voice over the radio.

Wallflower cleared her throat, and took a step closer to Fancy Pants, who was somewhat stunned by the forward advance.

“I’ve heard a great deal about you, actually,” Wallflower said, playing with her mane, glancing up and down, nervously, “....And, um, y-yeah, I’d like to learn a bit more.”

Fancy Pants glanced around, shocked, while Wallflower narrowed her eyes, releasing a hint of a smirk.

“We’re all here to have fun, after all,” she added.

Fancy Pants struggled to come up with a reply, before laughing, amazed that he was even considering her proposal.

“I…You…”

“I know someplace,” she whispered, “Not far. So why don’t we-”

Her voice trailed off, as the rambunctious crowd began to draw silent.

Wallflower followed their gaze, and suddenly turned pale, at the sight of the newest arrival to the Gala, descending the foyer steps clad in a deep violet gown, and a crown of lustrous gold.

Twilight Sparkle ignored the whispering voices and the terrified pairs of eyes, as she arrived at the foyer.

Twilight ignored the stares, strutting towards Wedge Ward, who had been begrudged to be put on that duty that night.

“You look lovely, your grace,” Wedge smiled.

“Sorry for being late,” Twilight said, “I didn’t want to cause a stir.”

“Oh, these ponies can hardly remember their own names by now, your grace, don’t worry about a thing.”

Twilight smiled, though she could not shake the feeling that something was out of place.

“Excuse me,” she said, trotting over toward the bar.

As the crowd slowly returned to their tableside chats, Wallflower turned to find Fancy Pants had been swept up by the crowd already, now out of sight.

“Wallflower, maybe you should-” Moon Dancer began, before Wallflower could turn off the earpiece. She suspected Twilight might be able to hear the frequencies, through some sort of magic. Wallflower could finally put a face to the name, the pony who had killed her friend Starlight and provided for all of the hardships they had endured over the past year. She had trouble looking at the princess for too long, as if she expected to go blind at the sight.

In the carriage, Moon Dancer frantically flipped with some switches, distraught to have lost Wallflower’s audio feed.

“She hung up on me!” Moon Dancer exclaimed.

The cameras suddenly turned to static, to Moon Dancer’s horror.

“What just happened?”

Wallflower felt a static shock from her jewelry, and caught sight of a glowing horn in the corner of her eyes.

“Don’t move.”

Wallflower froze, when a familiar voice whispered itself in her ear.

She glanced behind her, and saw Snowfall Glitter approaching her to the side, avoiding direct eye contact. The mare was clad in a tight-fitting white satin gown, and her wavy pale blonde mane was done up in a golden wire headdress.

Wallflower was too panicked to speak, expecting to be subdued right then and there, if not simply executed. She was defenseless, frozen in place while Snowfall stood alongside her.

“It’ll take more than a makeover to sneak past me, Wallflower Blush,” Snowfall smiled, “Are your friends here?”

Wallflower shook her head.

“No. It’s just me.”

“Got it. So how many? Two? Three?”

Wallflower glared at her.

“...I’m sorry for what happened to Starlight,” Snowfall sighed, “I wanted to help her, somehow, but…”

"I have a hard time believing that," Wallflower said, narrowing her eyes.

"I wish no ill upon you or your friends," Snowfall said, "But I have a duty to my princess. There is still one pony left in Equestria to whom loyalty means something."

“Let me go,” Wallflower said, “Please.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Snowfall said, taking a sip out of her glass, “...But, let’s say you’ve got fifteen minutes to get out of here. You and all your friends.”

Wallflower eyed her, uncertain whether she could trust her.

“Don’t say I didn’t play fair,” Snowfall winked, before trotting off, “And don’t push your luck, Wallflower.”

Wallflower ignored her second guesses and took off straight for Fancy Pants, who was again taken unaware.

“It’s now or never,” Wallflower pleaded, grabbing his jacket, “So what do you say?.”

Fancy Pants stared down at her, incredulously.

“Nopony’s ever needed to ask me that twice,” he grinned, allowing her to drag him off towards the staircase that led up to the next floor.

Moon Dancer sat back with her headphones hanging around her neck, rubbing her forehead to calm herself down.

“You alright, Specs?” Lightning asked.

“Please, please shut up.”

Lightning cowered back for a moment, before her wrath took the better of her.

“Y'know, you don't need to be such a jerk! I’ve been trying to help, you know.”

“I don’t need help. Especially from an airhead like you.”

Lightning opened her mouth to reply, before the impact of Moon Dancer’s words hit her. She retreated, struggling to convince herself against escalating the argument.

Moon Dancer’s glare loosened, and she sighed, heavily, leaning back in her chair.

“OK, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. You have been kinda….sorta helpful.”

Lightning glanced back at her, crossing her hind legs in embarrassment. She sighed, and decided to accept the lackluster apology.

“Can you see where the others are?”

Moon Dancer shook her head.

“Everything’s shot, I can’t see anything. I hope your friends know what they’re doing, ‘cause they’re on their own now.”

Fancy Pants’ belt was half-unfastened, as he staggered down the empty corridor, his bubbly giggles echoing against the granite.

"For a moment I thought you'd planned to invite Twilight's dog, too," Fancy said. Wallflower took a moment to realize he was referring to Snowfall Glitter, "Half the palace court's made their attempts, but I dare say she won't open her legs to anypony unless Twilight herself commands it. It's a wonder the bitch knows how to breathe on her own."

While Fancy laughed at his own jokes, Wallflower had him by the hoof, tittering and tripping over herself as her mind began to wander.

Her eyes drifted across the door labels, until she stopped short towards the end of the hall.

Wallflower knocked on the door, turning back to Fancy Pants, who was already ravenously pawing at her face. Wallflower shuddered, though continued to play along.

“I guess this will do,” she grinned, reaching for the door handle.

Fancy Pants laughed and grabbed her by the back of her mane with an uncoordinated hoof.

Wallflower had meant to turn around, but was too slow, by the time his lips touched hers, gnawing on her like a ripe piece of fruit.

Wallflower stumbled back into the door, which began to creak open.

Wallflower fell backward, with Fancy Pants on top of her, tumbling through the door as it slid open.

Fancy Pants laughed, and opened his eyes again, only to notice Wallflower’s giddy little grin had disappeared.

“Not a fan of foreplay?” he grumbled, before Sunset Shimmer could plant a kick to his rib cage.

He yelled out in pain and fell off of Wallflower, who scurried to her hooves.

“Thanks,” Wallflower said, brushing herself off, “Snowfall knows I’m here! We have to leave!”

Sunset glanced at Suri, who was posted by the door, checking to see if anypony had heard Fancy Pants’ scream.

“Get back to the carriage, we’ll take it from here,” Sunset advised.

“But-”

“Wallflower. Trust me.”

Wallflower sputtered up some nonsense, before reluctantly nodding her head.

“Whatever you’re going to do, please hurry,” Wallflower said, before slipping out the door, carrying her dress in her hooves.

Suri shut the door and locked the bolt shut, before glancing down at Fancy Pants, who was trying to make out their faces in the dark of the lounge.

“I know you, don’t I?...You’re some of Gladmane’s girls, no?”

Sunset flipped on the switch to a lamp, and Fancy Pants’ delirious grin suddenly fell from his face. He crawled backward against the wall, horrified.

“You’re…You’re…Sunset Shimmer!”

“Wrong kind of surprise, huh,” Sunset said.

“Wh-What do you want with me?!”

“A friend of ours, Razor Blade. You know him?” Suri demanded.

“Who?” Fancy Pants stammered.

Suri glanced at Sunset for support.

“He worked for the Underground. Ring a bell?”

Fancy Pants flinched at the mention of Underground, to Sunset’s amusement.

“Ah, does that get you scared? Why could that be?”

“What Razor Blade? I don’t know anything about a Razor Blade!”

Sunset sighed, and her horn ignited.

Suri winced at the sound of the tendon in Fancy Pants’ knee snapping apart, prompting Fancy Pants to holler out in agony.

“Gah!”

“Focus. Right here,” Sunset said, stepping closer towards him, eyeing him down.

“Razor Blade. What happened to him?”

Fancy Pants sputtered, his body trembling in pain as his knee turned purple from the internal bleeding.

“I…I…They’ll kill me.”

Suri’s eyes widened.

“Sure. But they might make it quick,” Sunset said, igniting her horn again.

“Wait! Wait! Stop! Stop, hold on….” Fancy Pants exclaimed, terrified, “...There was a pack of ponies, Undergrounders….I know they bit the dust.”

Sunset glanced at Suri, eagerly.

“Who by? The royal guards?” Sunset demanded.

Fancy Pants laughed.

“The royal guards? No…Those Undergrounders and your friend, I.... I recruited them. I wanted them to use you to rescue my niece from the ponies I work for. And all of us would work together, to tell you about the project, to send you out to steal it, and sell it for a profit. But the ponies I work for, they didn’t want cutthroats like you involved in all this, and the less of a threat to their investment, the better. So they took action, alright? Now a new deal’s brewing. The Underground is floundering, their boss is dead, he’s dead,” Fancy Pants managed, struggling to keep from fainting as the pain surged out of his leg.

Suri gulped, distraught at the idea that whoever killed Razor Blade would probably prefer they were all dead too.

“What project?” Sunset asked.

Fancy Pants glared at her with burning red eyes.

“The grand boon, is what it is. Its price rises by the hour. Manehattan, Canterlot, everypony wants a piece of it.”

“Twilight Sparkle?” Sunset asked, acting on suspicion.

Fancy Pants laughed.

“Her most of all,” Fancy Pants bellowed, “It was hers to begin with.”

“What is it?” Suri asked.

Fancy Pants shook his head.

“I can’t.”

“Speak.”

“I’ll end up the same as your friend, torn to pieces. I don’t want to be a part of this, I really don’t. But they’ve taken my niece! They’ve taken her, and they’ll kill her unless I work for them. That's why I meant to hire you, who seemed like the right kind of bad sons of bitches to get the job done. I thought I could trust those Undergrounders to serve as middleponies and keep some distance between myself and you all, but they got themselves killed. The ponies I work for are vigilant, nothing gets past them.”

His eyes shifted up to the two of them.

“...But here I have you, finally! You must do it, you must save Lily! I can make you rich. Please, please, she’s innocent in all this.”

“Tell us more about this project, and we’ll consider it,” Sunset said.

Fancy Pants hesitated, raising his hoof up as if to try and level with them.

“Cloudsdale.”

“It’s in Cloudsdale?”

“No, no, but…In Cloudsdale there is a pony who can help you. I can’t, they’ll kill me and my niece. But this pony, he has nothing to lose, he’s a voluntary stockholder.”

Sunset glanced over at Suri, who seemed open to the opportunity.

“Where do we find him?”

“His name is Fire Streak, you’ll find him at the Wonderbolt Academy.”

“Wonderbolts?” Suri repeated.

“Yes, yes, he can tell you what you want to know.”

Suri suddenly jumped alert, her ears picking up on the marching of hooves somewhere outside.

“You keep this little talk of ours quiet, got it? For both our sakes.”

Fancy Pants nodded, between winces of pain.

“And my niece?”

Sunset hesitated.

“Stay on our good side, and we’ll consider it.”

Fancy Pants smiled, briefly, before the pain overtook him.

“Let’s get out of here,” Sunset said, and Suri followed suit, the both of them invigorated.

Silver Stream struggled to choke down the Vieux Carré, as her face turned red and her eyes grew wide.

“How is it?” Ocellus asked, curiously.

“Not so good,” Silver Stream managed, setting her glass down and trying her hardest not to break into a coughing fit.

Silver suddenly felt a cold sensation on her shoulder, slimy like a used popsicle stick.

Silver turned around and nearly jumped back in fright, when Malthos took a step closer to her.

“Gosh! Sorry, you scared me,” Silver said, glancing at Ocellus, who trotted up at her side, glaring at Malthos with murderous intent.

“Hey, Silver Stream, I just wanted to say hi,” Malthos said, as if there was a frog buried in his throat.

“Well you’ve said it,” Ocellus snapped.

“Ocellus,” Silver said, dismissively, “Sorry, Malthos. That’s sweet. It’s good to see you.”

Malthos laughed, but for too long, and soon enough he was coughing up some spit stuck in his throat.

“Er, it’s always good to see you, Silver,” Malthos grinned, taking another step closer to them.

Silver sighed, and bit her lip.

“Malthos, um, look, I think you’re great, but…I uh, don’t really want to be…Y’know…”

“Silver,” Malthos grinned, “We both want it. I can tell. So-”

“Hey, Malthos, why don’t you and I go try those strawberry tarts over there, huh? You’ve gotta catch me up on what I’ve missed at the Hive, right?” Ocellus said, sticking herself between them.

“Uhm, er, okay, sure, but,” Malthos stammered.

“Yeah. Let’s do that. C’mon,” Ocellus said, grabbing Malthos by the hoof and leading him off into the crowd.

Silver sighed, and felt pity for the changeling, while Ocellus led him away, leaving her by her lonesome.

Some commotion near the door grabbed her attention, along with those around her.

“The dragons!” cried a pony, as the ballroom began to draw silent.

“The dragons have crossed the Red Teeth! Canter Creek’s been put to the torch!” he exclaimed.

Silver Stream glanced to her left, right as one mare fainted on top of her dancing partner.

Screaming, shattering glass, and the stampeding of ponies soon took over the room,

Silver Stream turned back to find Ocellus in the chaos, though soon enough she was swept up in the current of ponies, dragged away off her hooves.

Twilight, meanwhile, stood alone while the crowd cowered and crawled for the exit.

‘We’re too late,’ Twilight thought to herself, mortified. She turned to Wedge, who was right there at her side.

“Defend that girl with your life,” Twilight instructed.

Wedge glanced between her and the crowd and hesitated, before nodding his head and taking off after Silver Stream.

Wallflower made for the closest exit, teetering down a rounded staircase, her dress twirling in the breeze.

She stopped short, when ponies’ voices revealed themselves from down the stairs at a smaller balcony, far away from the prying eyes of the gala-goers.

Wallflower hid behind a portion of the wall, catching her breath.

She recognized one of the voices, as that of Styles, though his companion was a stranger.

She peaked out from the wall, and saw a stocky stallion with a snow-white coat and a charcoal grey mane. They were laughing together, until they came to a stop to take in the view of the city.

“And I said to him, your funeral,” Valance laughed, and he was visibly unable to stand straight, having had far too much to drink.

“And he died the next day. Celestia save us,” Styles exclaimed.

“Celestia save this city. It’s all gone to hell, Lieutenant, oh for Luna’s sake. These ponies with their plots and-and their schemes…”

“I’ve heard rumors,” Styles said, “Not that it’s my business.”

“No, no, it’s nopony’s business. But that…You know that, it’s those two, Moonshine and the Feather fellow. Curse them, the slugs. They share a brain, them too. The more you listen to them, the harder it is to stand it, see?”

“They have your confidence, I take it?” Styles asked.

Valance laughed.

“Oh, yes. Yes, they do. Featherglass sends me a task, I do it, and I do it well, you know me, Lieutenant. And then I tell Moonshine, that’s the arrangement, see? It’s brilliant, it is. My pockets never go dry, and Feathers, he doesn’t know a thing.”

Styles’ smile faded.

“No, my friend, I’m afraid he does.”

Valance laughed, before he noticed Styles, who was staring at him with those deep purple eyes of his.

“...What?” Valance choked, though he could do little to take action before Styles had a hold of him by the throat.

Wallflower raised her hoof to her mouth to keep her from screaming, watching as Styles tossed Valance over the rise of the battlements, screaming bloody murder as he went.

It was a three-story fall, and Styles stayed to watch it all, until he could feel satisfied with his work.

She held back tears and waited for Styles to return down the stairs, before following after him, making sure to take a different route to reach 31st Avenue outside.

But she didn’t make it far, when a pony stormed out in front of her from around the bend of the stairs.

Styles shook his head, as if crushed to come to an understanding.

“You again. I had a feeling you were up to something,” Styles laughed, “...Maybe now you’ll tell me your name.”

Wallflower bit her lip, backing up against the stairs.

“Take it easy…You and I could come to an understanding, OK? No need to make an issue out of what you think you saw.”

Styles tilted his head, amused, though his smirk didn’t stay there long.

Lightning Dust had come barreling in from the air, planting both of her hind hooves into Styles’ chest.

He fell hard against the concrete, gripping his chest in agony, while Lightning Dust rushed over to Wallflower.

“Are you OK?” Lightning asked. Wallflower nodded, while Styles struggled to find his breath.

“Thanks for the help,” Wallflower said.

“Anytime,” Lightning replied.

Wallflower smiled, before she saw Styles’ horn begin to glow.

“Lightning!” Wallflower exclaimed, shoving Lightning to the ground, just in time to spare them both from a purple beam of Styles’ magic, shattering a nearby statue into dust.

Wallflower glanced back up, watching as Styles’ horn simmered down, as he gripped his chest in pain.

“...Wait, that’s it. That’s where I know you from…You’re that little band of Robin Hood runaways I keep hearing about,” Styles coughed, “Luna be good, you’ve got some kick.”

"Yeah? How'd you like another?" Lightning scowled and scampered back to her hooves, moving in to plant another kick, while Styles laughed.

Wallflower stopped her, however, holding Lightning back with an outstretched hoof.

“Forget him, let’s get out of here. We got what we needed, we can't stick around.”

Lightning reluctantly obliged, glaring back at Styles.

“See you around,” Styles grinned and blew her a kiss, resting against a short wall of columns while he caught his breath.

“Hold on tight,” Lightning advised, reaching around Wallflower to scoop her up.

Lightning took flight, leaving Styles to struggle back to his hooves.

At the carriage, Lightning touched down just as Moon Dancer threw open the rear doors.

“You’ve got her!” Moon Dancer exclaimed, shocked. She had expected Wallflower to be a corpse already.

Lightning set Wallflower down, gently.

“Thanks for the save,” Lightning said, smiling.

A rustling in the bushes nearby put all three of them on alert, that was until Sunset and Suri struggled out into the street beside them.

“Sunset,” Wallflower said, relieved to see both of them alive, “Did you get what we needed?”

“You have no idea,” Sunset grinned, mischievously.

She ushered in the others to jump back into the carriage, glancing back at the palace over the rise.

“I think I’ve just found our fortune.”

Silver Stream nearly lost her balance as the crowd toppled over one another in the foyer.

“Ocellus!” she exclaimed, having lost her in the chaos.

But a hoof found her in the madness, dragging her out from the stampede and up into the grand stairwell.

“Captain!” Silver said, flinging a strand of her mane out of her eyes. Wedge Ward’s horn was alight, and there was a bruise on his cheek.

“Come with me, Princess,” Wedge Ward.

“Wait,” Silver said, searching the crowd for Ocellus.

“Princess, now,”

“Ocellus!” Silver wailed, though her voice cracked right as the changeling came springing out from the rush, climbing up the stairs to join Silver.

“Oh, you beat me here,” Ocellus said, shaking her head.

“Get a move on, both of you,” Wedge said, helping Ocellus up and ushering the two of them along.

“What’s going on?” Silver stammered, as Wedge practically shoved her and Ocellus up the stairs to the second floor of the palace.

“Equestria’s lost its mind, is what’s going on,” Wedge muttered, glancing behind him, “The dragons have declared war. The Crystal Empire, too.”

Silver’s eyes widened. She felt almost relieved. Featherglass was right after all, there was no need for her to marry.

“I’ve got to find my mom and my brother, we need to head home.”

Wedge glared at her.

“You’re not safe. Neither are they.”

Silver had trouble believing him, while he led them down a corridor, towards Silver’s bedroom.

But he came to an abrupt halt, as did the girls, when they caught sight of a creature standing in their way.

“Malthos?” Silver said, as the changeling approached them from the other side of the hall.

Wedge watched as Malthos kept on creeping closer toward them, silent at first.

“That’s far enough, highness,” Wedge said.

“...You could have made it easy, Silver,” Malthos croaked.

Ocellus stepped in front of Silver, protectively.

“Now it’s got to be the hard way.”

Pairs of eyes began to glow in the dark, lighting up the far end of the hallway.

Wedge’s horn began to glow, as he took a step forward.

“Princess, take your friend and go to your mother’s chamber, stay there and lock the door.”

“What are y-”

The horde of changelings began to buzz, their wings each fluttering together, Malthos at the helm.

“Go. Now,” Wedge barked.

The changelings came rushing towards them in full, numbering thirty or forty.

Wedge’s horn lit up the corridor, knocking the first wave of the changelings off-kilter, while more and more began to appear behind them.

Silver had finally felt compelled to run, only after a final prod by Ocellus.

“Silver! Let’s go!”

Wedge’s horn erupted again and again, though the changelings never stayed down for long.

They were atop him in an instant, and he was forced to resort to more extreme measures, searing the flesh off his attacker’s bones, and burning a hole through the skull of another.

He backed up, careful not to trip, while his eyes darted left and right, aiming for each changeling that tried to fly past him.

None evaded him, until a new face came rushing out from the dark.

The creature swung its hoof into his face, crushing his snout and sending him flying over against the wall.

The changelings took advantage of his incapacitation, flying off after Silver Stream and Ocellus.

Wedge grunted and tried to pick himself up, before the creature’s hoof stamped itself on his chest.

Pharynx scowled, glancing over at the dozen or so changelings that lay dead deeper down the corridor.

“You’ll regret that one day,” Pharynx muttered, “Tell Twilight she’s going to have one more problem to deal with.”

Before Wedge could ignite his horn, Pharynx swung his hoof into Wedge's skull, knocking the lights out of his eyes.

Pharynx scoffed and turned back towards where the girls had scurried off.

Silver Stream and Ocellus sprinted toward the other side of the palace, hoping to find Ocean Flow waiting inside.

Silver pulled on the handle, hoping to take advantage of what little time Wedge had given them.

“It’s locked!”

While Silver panicked, Ocellus frantically glanced around the hall, before catching sight of another stairwell.

“Head that way, try to find a way out. Don’t ask anypony for help, they could be a changeling in disguise.”

“What, without you?”

“They’re after you. I’ll try to distract them and buy you time. They won’t catch me, I promise. Just hurry, Silver, please. Go!”

Silver was out of breath, struggling to keep herself together. She wondered if Wedge was alive even, or what the changelings were planning to do with her.

She could not think of another plan, however, and took flight, rushing off down the stairwell, while Ocellus glanced back at the way they came.

Malthos licked his lips, his beady purple eyes darting across every inch of the palace corridor.

The marble was stained gold by the candlelight, which cast the far corners and buried depths in murky shadow.

He had ten changelings behind him, while other patrols were lurking around the palace, posing as guards or servants or Gala guests, all with one goal in mind.

Twilight and her advisors were indisposed with the news of war declarations and riot resurgences, while the majority of her royal guards were busy escorting the panicked crowd of guests out of the palace. It was the perfect time to strike, Malthos thought to himself. She had no escape.

Down past one gilded hall of royal trophies, however, Malthos picked up on a speedy squeak against the granite tile, and glanced at his companions to follow his lead.

He crept closer towards the hall in question, only to find it entirely abandoned.

Undeterred, Malthos took flight and buzzed down the hall, glancing all the way up and around for any sign of movement.

Breezing past one closet door, however, he came to a stop, glancing over at his companions.

He grinned and approached the door, stretching out his oily green hoof to grab the handle.

Silver Stream came falling out of the closet, her claws held over her eyes, terrified.

“Please don’t hurt me!” she wailed.

Malthos cackled at the pathetic display.

“Aw, don’t cry,” Malthos laughed, smiling wildly as he lifted a strand of her mane away from her eyes, “You’re safe now, I promise.”

He turned to face the other changelings, who had already encircled a trembling Silver.

“Tell my father we’ve got her. We need to leave, before the whole palace is on top of us,” Malthos said.

“Yes, sir,” replied two of the changelings in unison, who promptly hoisted up Silver to her hooves.

“Please don’t do this. Just let me go,” Silver begged.

Malthos shook his head.

“You’re mine now,” he grinned.

They turned to flee, with Malthos leading them, wearing a sickly smirk of triumph, eager to show his father what he had just reeled in for the taking.

But neither Malthos nor the other changelings had noticed, when Silver’s eyes twitched for a moment as she was dragged away. A flash of green overtook her eyes for a brief moment, before she had the chance to glance back behind her one last time.

Then a changeling’s hoof landed against her skull, and her world turned to black.

Author's Note

Hey, thanks for reading! Had to cut out everybody else to keep the wordcount down on this one (it's still too high tbh), so the next chapter will be mostly Starlight / Trixie / Blondie / Bandolier / Juno stuff. Part of me just wants to upload each individual section as its own chapter, but idk. A lot of the next chapter is already written so it should be out in mid-March. For anyone who is enjoying the story, please know that it means so much to me, and is the main reason why I stick with it. Thank you again for reading!

04: The God of Chaos

Locks of turquoise blazed in the dark, bolting to kiss the black laced lips of the cave. Damp, cold, pitch black. She was buried beneath the snowy linen land, a creature cursed to live in spite of the sunlight.

Her horn ignited, jetting thin streaks of china blue fire, bellowing out deeper into the abyss. Each of her targets fell to single blows - and despite the strain on her bruised, battered body, she kept a steady rhythm in her work. Her hooves were firmly placed on the ground, while her horn levied strike after strike, until the sweat began to slip down her forehead. Her muscles were hardened from days of work, a rushed recovery that left her sore all over.

Somewhere deeper underground, a second pair of eyes lurked ever closer to the trembling ruptures. Gliding through the air, his smirk grew wider and wider the closer he came to the source of all the ruckus. “Ah, there you are.”

Discord snickered, peeking out from around a corner of the cave, ignoring the blast of magic that had just nearly taken his head off his shoulders.

Starlight Glimmer narrowed her eyes, and her horn began to simmer down. She was out of breath, and her body was begging her for a rest.

“I thought you could use some company,” Discord continued.

“Think again,” Starlight muttered.

“I must say, I’m impressed. A week ago you could hardly walk.”

Starlight sat down on the ground, out of breath. Her muscles were so sore, she could hardly stand up on her own hooves.

“I take it, you're ready then?”

Starlight sighed.

“...If you really want this partnership of ours to work, Discord, then there’s some ground rules I’m gonna need you to follow.”

Discord laughed.
“Rules rarely feature in my vocabulary.”

“Well that’s gonna change,” Starlight said, “I know you’re only trying to survive, and so am I, but there’s more to all this than that. For one, we’re not going to hurt anypony unless we absolutely have to. Got it?”

Discord grumbled something under his breath.

“You still love to take the funout of everything.”

“Discord.”

“Fine. I’ll play along,” Discord said, “For now.”

Starlight supposed that was as close to a ‘yes’ as she would get.

“If you’re right about Celestia and Luna…Maybe we can figure out what they know about Twilight, and what this is really all about. I have to make things right again, somehow,” Starlight hoped.

“Ah, Celestia and Luna, I have missed them both. They have a soft spot for me, I think. But then again, who doesn’t?”

Starlight rolled her eyes.

“Tomorrow morning, we’ll take off for Seaward Sholes. Then we can get some answers.”

“Seaward Sholes?” he repeated.

“They’ve got a mansion there. Somehow we’re gonna have to figure out a way to get inside and find them, without causing a scene.”

Discord’s ears perked up.

“B-But that’s my speciality,” Discord said.

“I wouldn’t worry,” Starlight said, “If it’s true nopony’s heard from them in months, I have a feeling something’s already gone wrong.”

Discord bared his fangs, cackling so hard he nearly tripped over himself.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

Statues of bronze had been repainted in toxic green blood, where the last of the changelings had fallen to the wrath of the royal guards. Their captain could count the highest tally, though there was little to celebrate. He had personally checked every crevice and hideaway in the palace, to no avail.

They had taken Silver Stream.

Wedge Ward’s eyes were strained by shadow, where pulses of red scored the corners of his sight. He had arrived at the queen’s quarters first-thing that morning, immediately after his failed search for the missing princess.

He had come alone. No other was to be put to blame, should it come to that. The task had been his, after all. A simple one at that, one he had not even considered worth his time. If he somehow prevailed against whatever punishment was due, he was certain of his shrinking station, or the very least a fall from grace unlike anything a guardspony could have dreamed of. A dishonorable end to his career, to his life.

He could barely levy a second knock at the door, when the cyan-maned, apple-white face of Prince Terramar greeted him.

“Captain,” Terramar exclaimed, before he noticed the defeat in the captain’s eyes, and the tightness in his lips, and the dents in his armor.

“C-Come in,” the boy said, stepping out of the way.

Wedge obliged, removing his helmet to reveal his disheveled, burnt-orange mane. His stubble had grown into a thicker beard, and he appeared less like the gallant stallion Terramar had once known, and more of a gaunt, trembling beast.

Ocean Flow sat on the edge of her bed, glancing out blankly at her bedchamber window, that cast the room in soft grey light. .

“Your grace,” Wedge began, bowing slightly. Terramar stood off between them, his eyes locked onto the captain, eager for news. “I’ve sent patrols to search every corner of the city. We’ll find her.”

Wedge could hear the shaking in his voice, while his hoof nervously toyed with the leather strap of his scabbard.

Ocean Flow remained as she was, a statue, velvet eyes glazed over in dull agony.

Terramar, however, was pacing back and forth, Grinding teeth and shaky claws kept Wedge at a distance.

“It was my responsibility to protect her. I failed,” Wedge said, speaking with a strange kind of softness, “I’ll find her, I swear it. I won't let this treason stand.”

Ocean Flow lowered her head, defeated. Wedge’s convictions hardly seemed to phase her. She was despondent, speechless, while Wedge stood his ground by the door.

“I’ll speak to Princess Twilight myself,” Terramar said, “I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

Wedge may have wanted to protest the boy’s wishes, though he held his tongue. He had forfeited the right to make demands of anypony, as far as he saw things, especially in regard to the boy’s own family.

A knock came at the door behind him.

Wedge instinctively reached back for his sword, spinning around.

But it was only the young sergeant Hydrangea, whose golden curls stuck out from his helmet, clad in a full suit of armor.

“Captain, the meeting, sir,” Hydrangea said, standing upright.

“...Right,” Wedge muttered, before glancing back to Terramar.

“My prince, come with me. There are three units guarding every entrance to this room.”

Terramar flinched, wary of leaving his mother even for a moment.

“Quickly, or we’ll be late,” Wedge said.

“Late for what?” Terramar replied, joining Wedge by the door.

“Your sister’s been kidnapped, and the south is being put to flame,” Wedge said, “The war’s begun, boy. There’s no time to waste.”

Terramar glanced back at his mother, who paid him no mind, continuing to stare out the window, sitting so still she might otherwise appear a corpse.

Terramar turned back to Wedge, bit his lip, and made for the door.

Sunlight devoured the royal council chamber, while the city below craved the cover of dark.

Marius Moonshine wiped the sweat from his brow after twisting the door knob, and had expected to find the chamber unoccupied. He was early for the meeting, after all.

But he was taken by surprise, finding Featherglass resting in his council seat with his nose buried in a book.

Marius cocked a grin, waiting for the door to shut behind him.

“The Setting of the Sun,” Marius remarked, reading the title of the book, “The last testament of the last king.”

Featherglass’ gaze remained fixed on the book, ignoring Marius as he strolled closer toward the table, practically gliding through the air.

“He who threw the Storm King back into the sea, who banished Shoggoth into the void, who caved in the breastplate of the Old Stag,” Marius continued.

“He never even met the Storm King,” Featherglass corrected, “Or the Shoggoth, or the Old Stag, for that matter. Despite what the histories all say. His legend is a work of fiction.”

“You speak as though you were there, a thousand moons ago. Whatever the truth, Equestria’s memory dares to differ. How much does the truth matter, anyway?”

“That is a question for our own princess, I think,” Featherglass smirked, “But these days the real truth is hard to come by.”

“Bold words for a pony who claims to serve her,” Marius said, shaking his head in amusement, “Or have you begun to give up the act?”

“We must all serve in our own way,” Featherglass retorted, “It’s a treat, in fact - you shaking at the thought of me getting what I want.”

Marius rolled his eyes.

“My time is spent better than foiling you. Though, I’ll admit there’s some delight in watching ponies stumble over their own schemes.”

Featherglass’ grin stretched across his face. He rose from his seat, now eyeing Marius down from his lanky height advantage.

“I agree, completely,” Featherglass said, “For instance, when I foiled your plan to marry Silver Stream off to the Azimuths. If I must be honest, I did find some delight in the affair. And some regret. They might have made a lovely couple.”

Marius eyed him, unsure of what he meant.

“A mutual friend of ours, one who had my confidence. The pony who fed you information about my intentions. He was a poor investment. Thankfully, the wicked all fall victim to judgment, in their time, in their turn. His came sooner than you might have anticipated," Featherglass smiled. Marius’ eyes widened. A memory stirred, and made to carry him off his hooves. Sergeant Valance had not reported in that morning. "Ah, and the Azimuths weren't the only ones with their eyes on Silver," Featherglass continued, "I may have let our sour friend Pharynx know just how valuable she really was. He may feel a bit safer having the girl at this side - some insurance against the growing list of belligerents."

Marius’ lips tightened, and he straightened his shoulders, staring past the smirk on Featherglass’ face.

“What I do, I do for Equestria.”

“Equestria,” Featherglass mocked, “A collection crawled from under a stone. Held together only by the stories we tell to each other, to remind us each of better days that were never ours, or belonging to anyone at all. Works of fiction. To serve the many is to serve an ideal, one that does not exist. One that never has.”

“And what do we have, without the ideal?”

“We have freedom. Why enslave yourself to the immaterial, when you could otherwise have opportunity,” Featherglass said, “Opportunity, yes. For some, it’s a quick death, a fall in ruin. Others, they turn away in fear, letting the better chances pass by, again and again. Instead they grasp onto their earthly comforts. Gods, lovers, liars. But none of them will be the ones to write your name in the history books. Some may be content to return to the dust as nothing more. But I am not.”

The door to the chamber opened, and Featherglass glanced past Marius’ shoulder.

“Next time, I’ll be expecting a better effort,” Featherglass said.

Ponies began to wade into the council chamber, prompting Featherglass and Marius to both rise from their chairs.

Twilight Sparkle took her seat at the table. Snowfall Glitter sat closest to her, beside Marius. And beside him were Styles, Lieutenant Hawkbit, and the newly-elected Speaker of the Equestrian Senate, Veto, the successor to the late Filibuster.

Wedge Ward came in last, along with Hydrangea and Terramar, who came straddling in behind him like children in a place they did not belong.

“Captain,” Twilight said, having been prepared to begin the meeting without him. There was little time to spare.

“Your grace, forgive me,” Wedge said, before motioning for Terramar and Hydrangea to take their seats beside him. Venger and Grey Wick made room for the extra company.

“I was hoping Ocean Flow would be able to join us,” Twilight said.

“Her highness was indisposed,” Wedge said, before gesturing at Terramar, “The prince is here on her behalf.”

Twilight nodded, albeit slightly discouraged. Terramar was more or less a stranger to her, while his mother was already firmly under her grasp. It could take years to accomplish the same with the boy, especially if he was as headstrong as she had been told.

“I understand you’re all feeling overwhelmed,” Twilight began, “I feel it just as much. But Equestria is counting on us to make all of this right. And I can’t do it alone.”

The table remained silent. Who among these ponies could she trust? Twilight sighed, her eyes heavy with exhaustion.

“King Pharynx has turned against us, and taken Silver Stream as a hostage. We’ll get no help from the changelings, that much is certain,” Twilight said, “And more, our outposts in the Crystal Mountains have confirmed that the Empire is gathering its strength. It is safe to assume that my brother is no longer an ally of ours.”

Twilight hesitated at the mention of her brother. Starlight, Cadance, now her own brother. She was running out of ponies to lose. She regained her composure, though her face had begun twisted with rage.

Snowfall, meanwhile, sunk in her seat. She was as much a Northerner as she was a servant of Twilight, after all. They would reconcile, she reassured herself. There would be no need for war.

“In the south, the dragons are being kept at bay for the meantime, though the Velvet Regiment is under-equipped to handle a prolonged conflict. They’ll require reinforcements soon. We need to secure our allies in Seaquestria, Augusta, and the Griffish Isles, before the dragons break through," Twilight said.

“Your highness,” came Terramar, leaning in against the table, “The Hippogriff fleet is in no position to take action, not while my sister sits in a changeling dungeon.”

Twilight’s eyes twitched.

Terramar hesitated, as the eyes around the table all centered on him.

“I-I would help you if I could, Princess, but I can’t put Silver’s life at risk,” Terramar insisted.

“Princess, you tasked me with keeping her safe from harm,” Wedge reminded, before Twilight could unleash her wrath on an unsuspecting Terramar, “Before I’m to be discharged, I want to request leave to make amends, to hunt down Pharynx and the changelings, and return Silver Stream to her family.”

Twilight sighed.

“We are at war now. The Captain of the Guard needs to be at my side.”

Wedge stared at her, blankly. He would be damned to escape justice so easily.

“Princess, we-”

“The changeling hive is a fortress. One pony by himself wouldn’t make it six steps inside without being ripped to pieces. I want Silver safe as much as you do, but we have to be more cautious.”

“What do you recommend then?” Wedge asked, incensed.

Snowfall glanced at him, wary of the Captain’s fiery temper.

“Featherglass,” Twilight said, turning her attention away from Wedge.
“How may I be of service, your grace?” Featherglass asked.

“You are to arrange a negotiation with the changelings for Silver’s return. If negotiations are impossible, find another way to rescue her, by whatever means necessary. I trust you to handle something as delicate as this.”

Twilight glared at him. In truth, she saw the task as something of a wild goose chase. Pharynx would never give SIlver up. She was the only assurance against the changelings’ destruction.

Still, Twilight would prefer Featherglass to be as far from the capital as possible, and so the task seemed fitting. He must have known about the letter Cadance had written, during the time he was earning her trust. Yet he chose to say nothing of it.

Featherglass, meanwhile, had deduced Twilight’s intentions, though was in little position to protest. His interests did not just lay in the capital however. And, if certain conditions persisted, he would need a good reason to be traveling, anyway.

“Of course, Princess, as you wish,” Featherglass said, feigning discontent.

Marius knew Featherglass better, shaking his head at Featherglass’ performance.

“Snowfall,” Twilight said, turning to the Lieutenant by her right, “I’m placing you in command of the second battalion. Hawkbit, you’ll lead the third.”

Snowfall shuffled in her seat, nervously.

“Hawkbit will move south to bolster the Velvets’ blockade and keep the dragons occupied. We can’t let them reach Dodge City, otherwise the capital will be in danger. In the meantime, you’ll head north to keep the imperial armies from marching too far south.”

Snowfall bit her lip.

“Princess,” she began, glancing at the ground, “The North’s my home. I can’t-...I can’t risk-”

“You know the land as well as they do. I need you to lead this offensive, if only to prevent unnecessary bloodshed. I understand these are your own ponies you’ll be fighting, but we have no other choice. They’ve committed treason to the highest degree. Unless you’d rather fight alongside them, I suggest you do as I say.”

“Of course, Princess, forgive me,” Snowfall said, meekly.

“Styles, I want you accompanying her,” Twilight said, “For logistical and combat support.”

Snowfall’s eyes narrowed, as Styles’ grin stretched across his face.

Not him.
“Princess, I’m quite capable of-”

“I know what you’re capable of. But I’m not taking any chances. Not on my brother, and not on you.”

Snowfall flinched, suspecting Twilight wanted Styles to function more so as her spy, in case of deception. She resented the very idea, though was in no position to do much about it.

“Pharynx is only concerned with destroying me. If he brokers an alliance with the dragons and the Empire we’d be outnumbered and surrounded on three sides. We have to get things under control before Pharynx can capitalize on the chaos.”

Twilight sighed, wiping the sweat from her brow.

“Now. About this business with Valance. Can somepony explain to me what’s happened?”

Marius’ eyes narrowed, bouncing between Featherglass and Styles to his left and right. Styles. Who could be better for the job?

“The chaos at the Gala claimed his life. Nopony’s sure how,” Wedge answered, oblivious to the truth of the matter, “He was a terrible drunk. I wouldn’t be surprised if he walked right off the battlements.”

Twilight sighed.

“Captain, from now on, keep a closer eye on your subordinates.”

“I guess we’ll be called the Eight from now on,” Styles snickered.

“Not quite,” Twilight said, “Sergeant?”

Hydrangea, who had not spoken a word since entering the room, rose to his hooves, and his eyes began to widen.

“Your family’s loyalty and military support will be essential if Equestria hopes to prevail. As a show of gratitude, we would be honored if you took Valance’s place on my guard.”

“I’m…in the Nine?” Hydrangea said, astounded. He glanced down at Wedge, who smiled and nodded in approval.
“Don’t look so excited, kid,” Styles said, “Now’s about as bad timing as you can get.”
“I’d be honored, your highness, thank you.”
Twilight nodded, as Hydrangea took his seat.

“I’m counting on all of you to put an end to this unrest as quickly as possible, taking care not to add fuel to the fire. If you can do this, Equestria may come out intact.”

“How in the world did I end up stuck with you?”

Rows of red brick baked in the evening sun, by bronze summer glades and sidewalk-crack moss.

Starlight Glimmer tightened the hood of her jacket, a welcomed gift from Discord.

“If I wasn’t so evolved, I might take offense to that,” Discord replied.

He had assumed the form of a pony, dark grey with a darker mane, trotting alongside Starlight down Topanga Lane - a bustling rush of wild gardens, streetside storefronts, and honking taxi cabs.

“Please try to keep a low profile. Nopony can know who we are or what we’re doing.”
“You worry too much, Starlight,” Discord cooed.
Starlight ignored him, until she noticed he had come to a halt.

“Discord,” Starlight whispered, tugging at her hood, trying her best to shield her face from the passing pedestrians.

But Discord’s smile had disappeared, and his eyes were fixed on something inside a storefront window.

“Discord, c’mon, we can’t stop, we’ve-” Starlight said, marching back toward Discord. But her pleas stopped short, when she caught sight of what was behind the window.

TV sets, blasting frantic headlines and new reporters dressed in riot gear.

WAR! they all read, in violent technicolor.

“Dragons, Changelings, Imperials…Poor Twilight is going to have her hooves full,” Discord declared.

“Don’t start celebrating,” Starlight said, her voice hollow, “...We have to act fast, before things get even more out of control.”

“Not much we can do, no?” Discord said, as Starlight dragged him back alongside her down the sidewalk, “International diplomacy is not exactly my forte. Or yours, for that matter. You couldn’t even handle one village.”

“To fix this, we have to know what the core problem is,” Starlight said, “That’s what Celestia and Luna can help with.”

Discord grunted in dismay.

“Have you given any thought to where this all ends?”

Starlight eyed him.

“What do you mean?” Starlight asked without much hesitation.

“Well, as far as I can tell, the only way this mess gets solved is with either you or Twilight buried in the ground. But something tells me even if you had beaten her, even if you had her completely at your mercy, you’d still have spared her.”

“All I really wanted from her was an answer,” Starlight said, “And all she had for me were ramblings, clues, visions. I couldn’t understand any of it. But she wasn’t crazy. She really did see something, she really believed everything she was saying.”

“At any rate, she can’t be reasoned with,” Discord said, “Every now and then we have to make unfortunate compromises for the greater good. It’s a natural reality.”

“You’re wrong,” Starlight said, “Most ponies only resort to violence when they feel backed into a corner, when they feel like it’s the only way to survive. That’s exactly what I think happened to Twilight. What I need to find out is what was the corner she was backed into, and what was at stake if she did nothing. But unnecessary violence doesn’t help anything. If all you want is to take Twilight’s head, you’re on your own.”

“So because you failed once, you’ve reduced yourself to a pacifist play-detective searching for clues? The problem at hoof is Twilight. If you ask me, we should use our combined strength to pay her a visit, and end this once and for all.”

“She left me alive,” Starlight said, raising her voice, “Why would she do that? And when Trixie and I were first caught, she could’ve killed us then too. But she didn’t. She’s not too far gone. If she was, I’d already be dead.”

Discord scoffed in disbelief.

“You still care about her, that’s it. Even after everything she’s done? Why bother?”

“Because she was my friend.”

Starlight winced.

“Everything I learned from her, I still believe in it all,” Starlight said, “And I’d thought even with what she did, I could still try and live by her values. To put my friends before myself, to serve something greater, to protect ponies who can’t defend themselves. I could still believe in the pony she used to be.”

Starlight’s scowl hardened.

“But when I was tested, I failed. I left my friends behind, just for a chance at revenge. Now they’re all dead, probably. And if not….then Celestia knows what Twilight’s doing to them now. What I did was wrong. At that moment, I was no better than her. I can’t let that happen again. I have to fix my mistakes, and hers too.”

“Oh, Starlight,” Discord said, rolling his eyes, “You’ve become so obsessed with the principles of the game, you’ve forgotten all about the practicals. Twilight roams free, almost unopposed. It doesn’t matter how many dragons, changelings, or crystal ponies line up to storm the capital gates - they can’t stop her. But you and I together, we might. You can play the saint as much as you like, but at the end of the day, if evil still festers because you were unwilling to take action, how much better have you really made the world?”

Starlight sighed.

“I guess we’ll find out.”

Discord laughed again.

“Oh, don’t look so glum. Now that I’m lending you a claw, the real fight has begun.”

Starlight sighed, and almost cracked a smile, somewhat amused.

“There it is!” Starlight exclaimed, pointing further down the street.

At the end of the street, on a high-rise hill, was Celestia and Luna’s mansion, the largest and grandest in all of the city.

She led him behind the corner of a nearby alley, peeking her head out to inspect the premises.

With the snap of his claw, Discord conjured a pair of x-ray goggles, fastened right over his eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“I thought I’d take a look at the inside,” Discord explained, before sourly disintegrating the goggles with a point of his paw, “My lucky streak continues. I can’t see a thing. They seem to have taken every precaution.”

Starlight shook her head, having expected as much. It was within Discord’s capability to teleport the pair of them to Seaward Sholes with little effort, though finding their way inside Celestia and Luna’s mansion would be a different story.

Across the street, the golden gates of the property glowed in the setting sun, and beyond, the seaside cliff perimeter spat up a salty breath of wind back their way. The mansion stood higher than its neighbors, overlooking the sea on its great grassy hill, its marble columns yawning in the afternoon heat.

“The magic must be in the foundations,” Starlight reasoned, “They went out of their way to make their house Discord-proof. Now that’s an idea I can get behind.”

“Their loss,” Discord grinned, “I don’t suppose you have any bright ideas? There must be a first time for everything.”

“There’s no guards anywhere by the gates,” Starlight noted, “Don’t you find that a bit strange?”

“Not at all,” Discord said, “What do alicorns really need guards for, anyway?”

“The barrier is too strong for either of us to break through. I’m going to have to figure out how to manipulate the spell already in place.”

“I’m beginning to think they might not want visitors,” Discord snickered.

“If even you can’t get in, then the spell must be a mix of a personalized inhibition charm and a firewall enchantment,” Starlight deduced, “To counter the latter, I know a fissured breach spell that should cause enough of a disruption for us to work with. And for the former…”

She glanced up at Discord, who remained blissfully ignorant for a few moments before he realized she required use of him.

“Discord, I’m gonna need a sample of your blood,” Starlight said.

“What?” Discord recoiled in horror, “I assure you, Starlight, I’m clean. And frankly, you’re not my type.”

“Discord. Be serious. The charm is probably too advanced for anything surface-level. I need a physical sample to make something stronger.”

Discord shook his head in disgust.

“You unicorns and your spellbooks and witchcraft. You really do take all the fun out of it! I miss the good old primordial days. Things were simpler then.”

“Discord!”

Discord laughed and raised his claw, before tearing against his other arm, deep enough until he could draw blood.

Starlight acted quickly, her horn igniting in time to salvage a few drops from the wound.

“OK, now turn around.”

“What is it now?”

“I can’t focus when you watch me.”

“This is ridiculous,” Discord said.

“Just do it!” Starlight exclaimed, impatiently.

Discord sighed and obliged, spinning around.

He remained there, sulking impatiently while Starlight’s horn coughed up sparks and smoke, and the drops of blood began to manifest into an aura of dark purple.

“I’ve got it,” Starlight remarked, charging up her horn.

Her horn came alive again, and, from across the street, Discord’s eyes lit up, watching as the entire mansion shuddered in a magical swirl. Birds flew from their perch, and dust flew from the edges of the barriers.

“OK, try now,” Starlight said.

Discord eyed her, skeptically, before snapping his talons.

But, to his surprise, the pair of them disappeared in a flash of light, leaving short streaks of ash in their wake on the pavement.

Starlight’s eyes lost track of the sun by the time the world readjusted herself. They were somewhere inside the mansion, which was practically pitch black, with all the windows boarded up from the inside.

Starlight’s horn lit up, revealing Discord beside her, whose eyes narrowed against the strain of the light.

“A little early for bedtime, don’t you think?” Discord winced.

“Something’s wrong,” Starlight said, kicking over some loose trash and knocked-over furniture.

Discord snapped his talons, and strings of holiday lights began to wind their way around the walls of the house, revealing the extent of the disarray inside.

Despite the mansion having appeared in pristine condition from the outside, behind those walls it resembled the aftermath of a natural disaster. Streaks of ash scored the walls, and all along the floor there was broken glass and down feathers, the innards of the couches, pillows, and chairs that had been torn apart. The foyer chandelier sat in a heap of shattered glass in the middle of the foyer.

“All that wealth and they still couldn’t hire a maid,” Discord remarked.

“The house is abandoned,” Starlight said, after glancing through the nearby rooms, “We’re too late.”

“Maybe they’re on vacation. I could use one myself,” he groaned.

“Twilight must’ve gotten to them first. They’ve been ponynapped, or maybe they’re dead just like Ember and Thorax. Maybe-...” Starlight froze, and her eyes began to widen. “Whoever’s behind this, they might have left some physical evidence behind.” Starlight’s horn flickered, and the color of her aura began to change to a darker shade of blue. “Blacklight,” Starlight explained, as she began to inspect the area. “Look here,” she continued, pointing at a small patch of blood, “Discord, petri dish.”

“You forgot the magic word.”

“Gah! Discord!”

Discord rolled his eyes, before conjuring a plastic petri dish, as requested.

“We can already tell there’s been a struggle. It probably belongs to our hosts,” Discord suggested.

“Easy way to find out,” Starlight said, after collecting a sample of the blood in the dish.

Her horn suddenly ignited again, blasting at the splatter of blood.

Smoke rose from the glossy floor, and the blood had disintegrated upon impact.

“Alicorn blood would’ve stayed intact,” Starlight explained, “This belongs to somepony else.”

“Ah. Perhaps they want it back.”

“I’ve got a job for you, Discord. At the police station, they’re bound to have access to a blood sample registry. We could pinpoint an identity. Or, if I’m right, a lack of an identity.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t think Twilight is behind this. She’s not keen on leaving a mess, unless she meant for ponies to find it that way, like with the murders in Ponyville. But here, the security spell was still up, which means this was meant to be kept under wraps.”

“If not Twilight, then who?”

Starlight glanced at the ground.

“I’ve got a hunch.”

Telegram wire and blotted typeface spun within the frenzy of black ties and cigar smoke, where ponies dressed in scuffled suits scurried between cubicle rows and towers of paperwork.

To Trixie Lulamoon, the ringing phones and buzzing display were still echoing in her ears, a muffled, droning chatter clawing at the walls of her pitch-black prison cell.

It was the indignity, more than the inconvenience.

Alias had been quick to lock Trixie away, having correctly deduced she was somehow responsible for Cadance’s letter reaching the Equestrian press. She had also heard that Celestia's dark deeds had been leaked as well, and wondered whether her former companions had anything to do with it. She was surprised to find she missed them all, Lightning and Suri and Wallflower, even Sunset.

Trixie, however, had little to regret. After years of coming up short, she had finally given that prissy princess punk exactly what she deserved. Twilight Sparkle was ruined.

She smirked to herself in the dark, and imagined what Starlight would say.

Trixie’s smile faded. For all her efforts, she could do little to exact a proper exchange, a proper rebuttal to Twilight having taken away her best friend.
My only friend.

Now she was stuck in this den of night-crawling freaks, cramped in a room not much larger than the hull of her stage carriage, provided with just two measly meals per day.

That had been the arrangement for the past week, and Trixie was at last beginning to wonder whether Alias had any real intention of releasing her. He probably was not sure what to do with her, anyway. She may have been working with him, but she was never working for him. She owed him nothing.

But she would not have to dwell on the question for long, when without warning, light flooded the room. She had forgotten where the door to the room even was, with how dark it had been.

Trixie groaned and shielded her eyes from the blinding light.

“Hey, Ms. Whistleblower. Still alive?”

Trixie recognized the voice, before she could manage to keep her eyes open against the strain. It was that ditzy pink pegasus, Amity Stiletto, though she looked a bit worse for wear compared to the last time they had seen each other. Then again, Trixie could say the same thing for herself. A week in solitary confinement had that effect.

“Heh,” Trixie muttered, “Nothing the Great and Powerful Trixie couldn’t handle…Don’t look at me like that. I'm fine. Have you got anything to eat?”

Amity stuck a hoof in her purse and dug around for an apple, tossing it to Trixie.

Trixie scampered down on the fruit like a rabid beast, while Amity watched on in shock.

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but…” Amity began, “The Chief wants to see you.”

“I knew it,” Trixie laughed, “Everypony always wants an encore.”

Amity stepped out of the way, allowing Trixie to follow her out into the hallway. Immediately, she was nearly swept in a passing surge of agents, marching into another meeting room. The hallways were littered with crumpled-up documents and snuffed-out cigarettes.

“What the heck happened while I was gone?” Trixie asked, while Amity began leading her off toward another corridor, “This place looks like a warzone.”

“Yeah, well, let’s just say Equestria didn’t take kindly to that letter you sent out.”

“That was the idea,” Trixie replied.

“Riots, protests, insurrections in every major city from coast to coast. Some ponies side with Cadance, some ponies side with Twilight and Celestia, now everypony’s at each other’s throats. Soon there won’t be anywhere that’s safe. Chief has tasked us with putting down the unrest. Twilight doesn’t have the resources to do it herself, not while she’s got her hooves full.”

“With what?” Trixie asked, though she suspected the answer already.

Amity glanced at her, as she continued on down the hallway, toward a glass-walled office room at the far end.

“The dragons are marching from the south. The Crystal Empire from the north. The changelings have kidnapped the hippogriff princess, their king wants some sort of deal, to get out of this mess unscathed.”

Trixie’s smile had begun to slip away, as the thought of such mass calamity began to dawn on her.

They arrived at the glass office, where Amity gently pried open the door.

“Chief,” she said, softly.

Alias grunted. His chair was facing away from the door, toward another glass wall peering down into the control deck below.

“Leave,” he replied.

Amity gulped, as her eyes fell to the floor. Without protest, she spun around, ready to disappear. Trixie began to turn as well.

“Not you,” Alias growled.

Trixie gritted her teeth and backed up into the office. She shut the door behind her.

Alias spun around in his chair, glaring at her with those stony grey eyes.

Trixie turned to take a better look at Alias. The stallion’s mane seemed to have turned a paler shade of grey, and there were pulsing veins jutting out from beneath his cold flesh.

He sat in his great black leather chair, huffing at his cigar.

“I was ready to let you rot in there,” Alias said. He stamped out his cigar against the tray on the long table. “But I meant what I said, before. There’s still some use to you, I think.”

Trixie cocked her head back slightly, straightening her posture. “I knew you’d come crawling back. What’s the catch?”

“Starlight Glimmer is dead. Your friends from Hellhatch are AWOL. If you really want to have a seat at the table, if you really want to play the game - then you’ve got to do things my way. You took advantage of my trust, went behind my back, and now who knows how many ponies will lose their lives because of it.”

“What reason did Twilight ever have to fear you?" Trixie asked, "I finally gave her one. You’re welcome.”

Alias glared at her, though seemed somewhat amused by her persistence. Other ponies may have pleaded for forgiveness. Trixie would sooner die.

“And if I’ve screwed you over so bad, why let me live?”

Alias shook his head, exhausted.

“We’d reached a dead end on Twilight. There was no way to prove she was behind the murders, not beyond a shadow of a doubt. And even if we had, it wouldn’t do any good. As much as I regret what you and your friends did, you at least tipped the scales back in our favor. I just wish you hadn’t had to start a war to do it.”

Trixie scoffed.

“Twilight is the one who started this. Now she has to deal with the consequences.”

Alias glanced back toward the glass wall, down at the cluster of agents scurrying around the control center below.

“Whatever we throw at her, she’ll throw something worse back at us.”

“Does she know about this place?” Trixie asked, realizing his implication.

“No. But it wouldn’t take her long to find us. We have some time to prepare. Twilight is distracted with the war, she won’t be able to hunt us down herself. Still, you’ve put us at risk.”

“Not much fun to be had, without a little risk,” Trixie rebuked.

“I’m glad one of us is still smiling about all this,” Alias muttered, “We’re at war, now, Ms. Lulamoon. Only, our war will be fought with information, not blood. The palace has secrets, secrets that I need to find out. We have ponies inside already, but it’s dawned on me that we have one pony who might be worth more than all of them put together. A pony who has Twilight’s confidence. A pony who you’ve apparently struck an unlikely friendship with.”

Trixie raised an eyebrow.

“You mean Rarity? Don’t push your luck, she’s not cut out for this sort of stuff. And, uh, she’s not exactly a fan of my act.”

Alias grinned, rising from his chair.

“Then it’s up to you to fix that.”

Crooked earth came kicking and bawling into dusk, along the iron-rung tracks where the Friendship Express rode abound, coughing up clouds of black smoke, hacking up sparks of searing hot coal. The steamers at the helm were burly ponies, browned and weathered with dirt. And in one cargo car by the rear, where the doors had long fallen off their rusty hinges, Blondie sat on his heels, shivering.

Salt Shaker had left him in the blistering breeze, not long after making the jump onto the train car.

Best to not leave a trail, the giant had said.

While it would not be foolish to judge the stallion as a hulking brute at first glance, Salt Shaker held something of a soft heart, at least relative to his line of work. Blondie had not seen his like before, a learned pony with a regal lord’s taste and civility, all a front for the wrathful, bloodthirsty killer kept quiet underneath.

Blondie had not asked where Salt Shaker had run off to further up the train, and was too tired to pry. The sun had nearly slipped out of the sky, sparing half-light dangling against frozen dew that hung off the passing pasture crops.

Redshift, whose royal armor was still stained red, was bound in chains, tossed over by a stack of boxed produce, as gracefully as if she was another piece of cargo.

The mare’s serpent eyes were alive with hatred, as if she might self-combust at any moment, or suffer an unannounced heart attack. He had once found it amusing, considering the threats she had made, though now he found it a sad thing, for whatever cause could drive a pony to such extremes, to such relentless cruelty.

He shared a sleepless night with Rainbow Dash, who had silently been watching him from across the train car, her hoof gently dangling off the edge, where the breeze blew her mane half-across her face.

He noticed her only when the moon had shown its face, as the train trudged along through fields of grain and hills of tall grass.

"You never told the princess you were coming back," Blondie pointed out. Rainbow glanced up at him from across the car, as a cold breeze sent her shivering. She had heard what the railponies were harping on about, before they had left Manehattan. Twilight is the killer. Celestia is a traitor. War is coming.

"I can't help her," Rainbow said, "And if she wanted my help, she wouldn't have sent me to Manehattan. Whatever's going on, she can handle it on her own. She'd prefer it that way, anyhow." Rainbow wished it was otherwise. "It's my other friends I'm worried about. You cut the snake's head off, but how many more will grow back? My friends won't be safe until we get that case and figure out some kind of deal."

Fuck, that's cold. Crozer had said before he fell. Even in death, he hadn't stopped grinning.

"Most of them answer to Salt," Blondie assured, "And the other ones, they won't step out of Manehattan, and they won't come after your friends."

"You'd better be right," Rainbow said. He could see that she looked at him differently now, guarded and anxious. He had never killed anypony before Crozer.

"You're nervous?" Blondie asked.

"I've just got a feeling Canterlot won't be the same since I left it," Rainbow said.

"Is Canterlot home?" Blondie asked. Rainbow shook her head.

"Ponyville," she corrected, punctuated with a sigh.

"Why'd you leave?"

"I always had trouble sitting still," Rainbow said, "...After what happened, I...I had to do something. Fight something. Every adventure I ever went on, nothing ever happened like what happened to Ember and all of those creatures. I was too scared to think. I had to move. I had to get going. I had to be the hero ponies think I am. I've been scared before, but never like that. I went anyway. But I'm getting slower. And older. And I don't have any of my friends with me..."

"You have me," Blondie said. Rainbow smiled.

"Yeah, I do," she said, "If we get the chance, you should come to Ponyville with me. You could meet the rest of my friends, see Fluttershy and Pinkie again."

Blondie smiled, briefly, and his gaze shifted against the edge of the cargo car, his eyes trickling over past the fields by night, where the mountains loomed overhead.

"It was my home too, years ago," Blondie said, "My brother had just moved, and he wanted me close, so I followed him. They were good ponies there. My brother wanted to work for the PPD, not that there was much to crack down on in a town like that. Ponyville was where I met her."

"Who? Brandy?" Rainbow asked. Blondie laughed.

"No. Candle Light," Blondie said, "When I was sixteen, my brother Manco and I found her on the run from a pair of thieves. She was my age, about. Manco went off chasing them, and I was left to look after her. She was filthy, hungry, and trembling cold, so I took her to an inn nearby, on the Brandywine Road. You know it?"

"Yeah," Rainbow said.

"I fed her, we drank. I was new to drinking, and it all went to my head, too fast. Then, we...Well, she was shy, I was even shyer, I remember. The next morning I knew I was in love. We spent three weeks together after that, her and me. We talked about getting married, we played at husband and wife. Then my brother came back. And he told me the truth. That he had arranged it all, the road, the outlaws, the girl. He thought it was time for me to become a stallion, he said. Candle Light, she was a prostitute he hired, she did it all for bits. My brother wanted a story to get him a spot in the police academy. It worked, and when he came back he brought his new friends with him. They took Candle Light, and they all had their way with her. I was never supposed to fall in love with her, my brother said. He wanted me to know that, so he and all of them took her. They paid her well, a bit for every stallion. By morning there were bits slipping through her hooves onto the floor."

Rainbow's face had gone gaunt, and she could hardly blink. Blondie sighed, to calm his nerves.

"I left and I never looked back. I can hardly remember their faces anymore. My brother. Candle Light. But I remember her eyes. Bright blue eyes. When I saw Brandy that day I thought it was her. So I went out to save her."

"I'm sorry," Rainbow said, softly, "Where is she now?"

"She could be dead, for all I know," Blondie said, "But Brandy's not dead. I believed my brother was good. I believed Candle Light was good. Does it make me a fool to still believe that Brandy is good?"

"Once we find her, you'll know," Rainbow said.

“...I can help with that."

Blondie and Rainbow both glanced over at Redshift, who had raised her head from the floor.

“I can see you’re not cut from the same cloth as your friend,” Redshift grunted, glancing towards the door where Salt Shaker had left earlier, “I know how to open the case…I don’t need the girl anymore. We can help each other.”

“Whatever’s in that briefcase, I’m sure it shouldn’t be in your hooves,” Rainbow snapped.

“That case matters more than you think,” Redshift said, “Princess Twilight certainly thinks so. Ponies that stand in her way don’t stay there for long. Friends or not.”

Rainbow winced.

“What does Twilight want with it?” she stammered.

Redshift snickered.

“You two really don’t have a clue, do you…That briefcase was never supposed to leave her laboratory, until one of her poindexter scientists thought he could make a quick buck selling it off to your Manehattan weapons-dealing goons. Hundreds of ponies are hunting that case down, as we speak, at least half of whom are on Twilight’s payroll.”

“I don’t believe you,” Rainbow said, glancing at Blondie for support.

“Then keep your mouth shut, flygirl. You, Cowboy, you and I could make an arrangement.”

Blondie glanced at Rainbow, who was staring right at him.

Neither had noticed as Redshift began fiddling with the lock to her chains. The sound of the metal clicking was masked by the roaring of the train.

Before Blondie could reply, however, the door to the train car came swinging open, and in arrived Salt Shaker, an exhausted grin on his face.

“Ah, Blondie, I told you, didn’t I? Everything worked out with our friend the conductor, for a price, of course. Poor dead Granger’s savings came in handy without delay, yes. Now, what’s with the long look? Has the tinhead kept you awake? I told you she’d be a drag, Blondie, you never listen to me.”

Salt Shaker kicked Redshift in the gut, though the lieutenant was hardly impressed.

“He’s going to leave you for dead, Cowboy,” Redshift said.

Blondie scoffed, glancing at Salt Shaker, who had, in fact, left him for dead once already.

“Ah. Trying to cut deals, is that right? You have nothing to offer, my dear, except the migraine I've had for days. If you weren’t such a dreadful bore, I’d be more inclined to keep you alive.”

“I could make sure the girl doesn’t get hurt,” Redshift said, “Twilight will get that case back one way or another, so why not help while you can?”

“...I’ve seen ponies tear each other to pieces over that case,” Blondie muttered, “And if what they say about Twilight Sparkle is true, she’s the last pony who should be wielding a thing like that.”

Rainbow glanced at him, concerned as to what he was implying.

Redshift sighed, before laughing to herself.

“Don’t say I didn’t give you a chance.”

Neither was quite prepared, when she snapped back against her chains, splitting the lock apart. Redshift raised up the metal shard shiv she had found to scrape at her chains, and dove straight for Rainbow, who did not have enough time to make it up to her hooves.

Redshift had her by the throat in no time, while Blondie jumped up to his hooves, and Salt Shaker reached for his pistol.

“Neither of you move,” Redshift barked, before breaking down into a fit of laughter, “Wait until I tell Snowfall what her little errand earned me…You kept me alive, Cowboy, so I’ll return the favor. But we’re even now, got it? Pray we don’t meet again.”

Redshift threw Rainbow to the ground and took a step backward off the edge of the train car, jumping off down the hill along the tracks, tumbling down through stalks of wheat, lost in the middle of nowhere.

From the train car, Salt Shaker angrily turned to Blondie, while Rainbow picked herself off the ground, rubbing some faint trickles of blood that had been drawn on her neck.

“We should have listened to you," Salt said, mimicking Blondie's voice, "Thank you Blondie, yes, you're right. Maybe next time you'll listen to me.”

“She could’ve killed us. She didn’t,” Blondie countered.

“We can already count on poor dead Crozer's friends hunting us down. Now we can expect the royal guard, too. Splendid..." Salt Shaker said, approaching Blondie, who hardly rose to the giant’s chin. “Kind or not, mistakes come back to bite you, my friend,” Salt Shaker said, “And we have enough enemies on our trail already…”

Salt Shaker grumbled some curses to himself, as he sat back down on the floor, hoping to get some much-needed rest.

Blondie glanced over at Rainbow, and wondered again if he had made a mistake.

But her eyes told him otherwise, and he sat back into the breeze, where the smell of smoke and grating iron carried him to sleep.

Morning bells cut the farewells short, aboard the old oak dock down the Great Harbor lane.

The ponies of Gooseneck were clustered about the causeway, hoarding in droves while files of shivering ponies drew up lines of rope and struggled beneath splintery crates of cargo.

Bandolier stood a head above the majority of his new shipmates; Scurvy had been telling him the truth, after all. He was sailing with a boat full of colts.

“Don’t look so glum, mate,” chimed Scurvy himself, bouncing a cigarette in his teeth, grinning as he dragged a thick spool of rope towards the ship ramp. He could taste the salt in the air, and he had almost gotten used to the whining cries of seabirds parading in the air.

“Your ship’s more like a daycare,” Bandolier muttered. He had spent the past few nights sharing drinks with the stallion, eager for the prospect of the sea, though a sober pair of eyes made the truth plain.

“I haven’t much gold for able bodies,” Scurvy said, “That’s what I need you for, my friend.”

“I expect a better wage for better work,” Bandolier said.

“We’ll see about that. Har! You wanted a new start. Here it is, boy,” Scurvy laughed, before briefly climbing up the ramp to unburden himself.

Bandolier shook his head in disbelief, while taking in the worn wood of the ship.

“The Bronze Beauty. Seen better days, she has,” Scurvy said, returning down the ramp.

“Up you go, I’ve got work for you before we set sail.”

“I’ll be right there,” Bandolier said, reaching for his flask of Seapony Tears.

But his hoof came back with nothing, and, upon checking his belt, he came to the dreadful realization that it was missing.

“Looking for something?,” came the voice of a young colt, smirking from atop a barrel nearby. While his companions were busy at work, the colt found himself idle, finishing off the flask.

“Give that back,” Bandolier said, turning towards the colt.

“Where we’re going, it’s contraband,” the colt touted, tossing the flask off the dock. Bandolier stared at him, incredulously, “So, y’know, you’re welcome. Who are you, anyway? This isn’t a retirement home, pal.”

“Your friend was hiring,” Bandolier said, glancing around at the colts dragging crates and barrels up the ramp to the ship, “A motley crew of foals makes for poor company, I imagine.”

“Alright, first of all, Scurvy’s not my friend, I work for him. Second of all, nopony makes better company than me.”

Bandolier narrowed his eyes, unimpressed.

“I’m Sandbar,” the colt introduced, “I sorta run things around here, y’know. Scurvy’s losing it, y’see. Lucky for him, he’s got me. I’m the brains of the whole operation.”

“Ah, then we really are in trouble.”

Sandbar grinned, and jumped off the barrel.

“Just don’t get seasick on me, gramps.”

Sandbar marched right past Bandolier up the ramp.

Bandolier glanced down at his hooves, blistered against the wood, and took one last look back at the town. His face hardened, and he turned toward the ship, storming up the ramp into the blinding sun.

Sunlight dwindled against the rosy brick and tangled weeds, where Starlight Glimmer stood idly by in the dark.

She grunted under her breath, shifting her weight to relieve the pressure on her leg. Not every bruise would heal.

She was terrified, even if she refused to admit it.

She recalled her last meeting with Twilight, on that dusky field of blood, met with eyes she no longer recognized. Was it just the crown? The throne? No, there had to be more.

Why keep fighting, she wondered. The battle was a losing one, and if by some miracle she ever discovered a way to defeat Twilight, she was certain that Equestria would not survive the consequences. But she could still serve the common good, perhaps not in the simple opportunity of challenging Twilight a second time, as Discord so desperately wanted, but instead by delving deeper into the source of the mayhem. Starlight knew Twilight better than most. She never acted without reason. But that reason eluded Starlight, who meanwhile was unsure if she was the right pony for such a task. She was weak, she thought to herself. Too weak to stand up against evil. Too weak to even save her friends.

She thought of Sunset, Lightning, Wallflower, Suri, and wondered whether any of them were alive. She had to find out somehow. Without her they wouldn’t have been thrown into this mess.

And Trixie, perhaps the only real friend she had left in the world, she could only hope had wised up and fled the country. Starlight cursed herself; it was her fault for having dragged them all down with her. She had to find them. She had to protect them. They were hers, and she was theirs, as far as she saw things.

She took a great deep breath, shut her eyes, and focused everything into her thoughts, into what Twilight had said to her.

Impossible choice.

Celestia. Murdered, Lied, Bribed. Reign built on a lie.

Ember. Thorax. They’d have come after Twilight. Taken what power they could.

Why not work with Twilight, Starlight wondered. Why would Ember and Thorax willingly make Twilight into an enemy? Twilight was more powerful than all of them combined, she had proven it the hard way. So why take that risk?

She recalled the last conversation she had with Thorax and Ember, the day before the massacre.

We’ve been putting a lot of plans together.

We could use your help to make Equestria even better.

She wondered what they would have told her. Did they mean to recruit her for their coup against Twilight? Why would they think she would join them?

Starlight shook her head, stuck on the puzzle.

She sighed, and remembered why she had even agreed to venture out again, in spite of her prior failure. To find out if what Twilight said about Celestia was true, she would have to go to the source.

“Maybe I should stop doubting you.”

Starlight glanced up, right as Discord, still in his pony disguise, popped out from around the corner.
“You got in OK?” Starlight asked.

“It was an absolute waste of a disguise. The police station was practically empty. War protesters downtown, I suspect.”

“And what’d you find?”

“It’s just like you said. There’s nopony on record matching the blood sample. It’s like they don’t exist.”

Starlight nodded, satisfied enough to make a conclusion.

“That’s because they don’t,” Starlight said, “Legally, at least. I’ve met these ponies before. They call themselves the Erased.”
Discord’s eyes widened, recognizing the name.
“They’re the ones who tried to interrogate me, some time ago. Are they friends of yours?”

“Not quite,” Starlight said, “Odds are they already know we’re here. If we want to find out where they’re keeping Celestia and Luna, we’re gonna need to draw them out, somehow.”

“What have you got in mind?” Discord asked.

“I think it’s time you do what you do best,” Starlight grinned, “Cause some chaos.”

Spinning in sundown delights, the city of Irwind writhed in its old stone walls, riddled with moss, ash, and bullet holes. Nothing further but bleak, there along the western shore, there where the great docks climbed into the sea. The sailors spoke of better days before, when the ships would sail from the west, smelling of sweet cinnamon and citrus. Nets would hang off the bows of great oak-wood freighters, dangling in the light, warm and bright like a second sun. And the birds would return to their nests on the copper rooftops of the city, ascending up the seaside ridge.

The tides would leave as quickly as they had come however, and a paradise had been lost.

Trudging through the city gate, with a leather satchel strapped around his back, there would be a new witness to the city’s decline.

He was Vertigo, a stallion-at-arms, faint-fern in color, with a dark green mane.

Across the cobblestone steps, in each passing alleyway there were ponies with ripped fur and tattered wears, lying half dead in puddles of rainwater and pitch, each laced with sores and red-ripple blisters.

The way they moved, jagged and uncoordinated, reaching out with begging hooves to no pony, reminded him more of some savage beasts, more so than a pony. What amazed him was the sheer number of them, lying with missing limbs or loose teeth, all of them groaning for food, for water, for a quicker death.

One of them had stood up to greet him, a young girl, shivering, frail, and white like a living skeleton.

She did not have to speak, before the soldier had reached into his satchel, retrieving some spare bits he would have otherwise used for a taxi.

He bent down toward the girl, who could hardly form the words to beg properly, instead just sticking her hooves out, trembling. He left the bits in her hooves, and clasped them, remorsefully.

She smiled, weakly, and scampered back to her spot against the wall of an abandoned building, while the soldier continued on.

Red flags hung over broken-down barricades, where pools of blood had begun to dry up. The result of yesterday’s uprising, he figured. On the road to Canterlot, he had heard about the news. Princess Cadance’s letter. Riots. Rampage. The war. He had his work cut out for him here, it looked. The city reeked of rotting flesh.

He had an easy time believing Cadance. He was present for her arrest, weeks prior, and had made a note of the conviction in her testimony. She had nothing to gain from speaking such bold claims, and she had everything to lose. He might have been more eager to defend Twilight, if she had not been the one to have sent him here to begin with. A city of the poor, a city of squalor.

She had meant to humiliate him, he reasoned, she meant to punish him for speaking his own mind. She had no idea what his own mind was worth, however, or any of the ponies she had used for her plots and schemes. His life meant little to her. And so perhaps Cadance was correct after all, and perhaps the revolutionaries would not have died in vain.

Still, he was a soldier of Equestria. He was only meant to follow commands.

So were they, he thought to himself, eyeing the corpses of the soldiers who had fallen at the barricade, still strewn about haphazardly. And nearby, by the sidewalk, along a long stretch of wool fabric, the corpses of the revolutionaries lay in an orderly line. Dignity for the dead. While his own comrades lay on the street like a butcher’s rotten discards. Such would be his fate, someday. Someday soon, more likely than not.

It took him the better half of the day to arrive at the Governor’s Palace, belonging to the Azimuth family, whose sea trade operations had once raised the city into grandeur, and whose greed had since reduced it to ruin.

Vertigo found the palace under heavy guard, and was subjected to a rigorous inspection before being allowed to enter.

Lady Azimuth had left the city a week or two ago for the Grand Galloping Gala, as had her son, Hydrangea, and so he was not certain who he was meant to greet upon his arrival.

He did not ask the guards, who seemed confident where he was meant to be, leading him through the marble halls of the palace.

Around a corridor, he was brought to a hanging garden, billowing out into the balcony, providing a view of the sea beyond.

There was a mare, standing by the column railing, playing with her chestnut curls, watching the ships disappear over the horizon.

The guards left him alone with her, which he found odd, though he made no comment on the matter. He stood at attention, presuming this mare to be somepony of importance.

“And who might you be?” she asked, without turning around.

“Vertigo, ma’am. Captain, Royal Army. I’ve been sent here by Princess Twilight to aid in putting down any unrest that may have arisen.”

The mare smirked, though Vertigo had not seen it, facing her rear.

“And why have you come here alone, Captain Vertigo?”

“My company’s made camp outside the city, We didn't want to be a burden.”

The mare turned around glaring at him. He was taken aback by her beauty - she had a curly mane like her brother, but chestnut instead of gold, and done up in a gilded headdress. Her coat was a soft sea green, fainter than his own, and her eyes were deep blue.

“Your presence here is enough of a burden as is, Captain,” she said, scowling, “I know your masters' intentions. Your princess craves only to destroy ponies’ lives, to reduce a peaceful land to one of fire and ash.”

Vertigo flinched. To say such a thing would be grounds for treason, for death. But he was motionless, perplexed. There was such hatred in the mare’s voice.

“You must have met my pretty brother, he’s a knight like you. I’m Delphinium, but I'm called Delphi. My mother left me in charge of the city. But only in name. I sit here, while your princess's soldiers ravage my city. Ponies are beaten, thrown into jail, murdered, all for speaking out against injustice, or for anything at all. I had tried to put an end to this, before they stowed me away here. I'm not supposed to tell you any of this, or else they said they would….No matter, now, sir. I’m without a friend here. I’m meant to protect them, my ponies, I have to do something. My home has been destroyed. And now I learn they’ve sent you, as well. I'm already a captive. What more do you plan to do with me? Try as you might. I will not serve the whims of a tyrant.”

“It wasn't my choice to come here,” Vertigo said, bluntly, “Villages are being razed, all across the south. The dragons have unleashed their fury, and while I could have taken my company to help defeat them, instead Twilight has sent me here. To suffer the broodings of a spoiled highborn brat who has no idea how the world works.”

Delphi's jaw dropped a bit, before a smirk found its way to her lips.

“It would seem we are both prisoners of circumstance, then,” the mare said, approaching him, observing the exhaustion in his eyes, “And perhaps I am naive. But I know in my heart that the path our princess has set us on, will be the ruin of all.”

Vertigo said nothing, while his eyes flickered to the ground.

“Twilight has put you in charge of the city?” she asked.

“She has.”

Delphi approached him, impressed by the shimmer of his armor in the sun, and his broad form that towered over her.

“The protests will not stop. Not while Twilight remains on her throne,” Delphi said, her voice shrinking to a whisper, “My city yearns for reform. You could help me do it. Set me free from here, allow me to meet with the resistors. No more ponies will have to suffer. No one will have to die.”

“I was sent here to destroy them, not make peace. Twilight did not wish for-”

“I'm not asking Twilight,” she said.

Vertigo glared at her, warily. This girl was mad.

But there was a sadness in her eyes that compelled him to humor her. And the fire in his own blood had begun to boil again, as it had when Twilight had first sent him away.

Perhaps fate had not spurned him, after all. This girl could be his chance.

The moon lay fair over the seas, where lantern light gleamed in ghostly tides. The cliffs of Southshore stood, glimmering and vast, out beyond the tranquil bay.

Bandolier came to the edge of the starboard deck of the Bronze Beauty, where the air seemed sweeter in the breeze. From the long line of spray, where the moon touched the sea’s black horizon, the grating roar of storms stewed in the dark. Pebbles and grains of salt and sand shuddered against the wood, with each draw of the waves. And at their return, up the high strand, they began again, and ceased, and began once more. With nervous patience, they held the hull of the ship, restlessly.

“Savor it while you can.”

Scurvy had staggered over toward him, finishing off the last of his rum. He promptly threw the bottle into the ocean, despite there being some drink leftover.

“The fish need it, too,” he laughed, “Folks from across the sea, they don’t smile on vice. There, devilish tastes earn you a death sentence. Aye, be wary, friend.”

“You’ve yet to tell me what we’re carrying,” Bandolier said, dryly. He yearned for something to clear out his mind, as his hangover dragged on for the first day at sea. The rocking of the boat made his stomach churned, and he was beginning to realize how much he had taken dry land for granted.

“You never asked,” Scurvy chuckled, “Some gadfly in Nautilus is causing a stir, that’s the word. Tempers are rising, they say. We’re carrying weapons, military-grade.”

Bandolier hesitated, recalling Lavender's warnings about what lay waiting across the sea.

Benefactor.

Exile.

Enemy of Equestria.

“We’ll be stopping in Newport first, when we get the chance. You can indulge yourself there before we cross the sea.”

“We ought to stay there,” chimed a new voice, belonging to Sandbar, who was climbing down from the crow’s nest above, nearly toppling off the ropes into the sea.

“Only if that mother of yours has finally signed the divorce papers,” Scurvy cackled.

“Try and fail, Cap’n,” Sandbar grinned, touching down on the wood. He casually approached Bandolier, sniffing him out for treachery.

“I don’t like the looks of this one. Where’d you find him?” the colt chirped.

“In a puddle of shit, with half his teeth missing,” Scurvy said.

“Sounds right,” Sandbar nodded.

Bandolier ignored the colt, glancing back at the shoreline. The sea seemed to speak to him, softly, asking him to fly deeper into its maw, into the abyss.

“He’s an inmate, I’d wager, currently at large.”

Scurvy glanced at Bandolier, unconvinced.

“No, he’s too pretty for that,” Scurvy said, “What is it then, my friend?”

Bandolier turned back to face the pair of them, who remained slightly suspicious.

“...There's nothing for me in Equestria,” Bandolier said, “Maybe the West will be different."

Sandbar snickered.

“A cross-eyed drunk with delusions of grandeur. He’d make better shark-bait than a sailor.”

Bandolier sent him a side-eye.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” he laughed to himself.

“Alright, enough,” Scurvy laughed, waving both of them off, “Get some rest, both of you, I’ll have the watch. A night like this is a rare kind of gift.”

Bandolier reluctantly obliged Scurvy, though lingered by the deck, staring off at the moon as it sank beneath the sea.

Blackbirds scattered between twisted, dead tree-limbs, while oily reds and golds melted into the sky. With each step, the marble pillars of Canterlot were made ever more a memory, and the roaring of the river shrunk into a whisper.

Against the rocky cliffside, the path seemed to become narrower the higher they climbed, and the mountain air was paper-thin.

Juno focused on putting one hoof in front of the other, careful not to stumble right off into the stony chasm that lay just inches away. The wind had begun to pick up, forcing her to hold onto the rocks to keep herself balanced.

She was second in the line, the chain gang shakedown of captured convicts she had been thrown alongside, following her unprompted arrest.

There were only four royal guards to keep the sixteen-odd prisoners in order, though Juno had no intention of concocting any crafty escape schemes. Yet.

Her memories of geography class with Miss Cheerilee were faltering, and in truth she had no idea where she was or how to get back on the road to Canterlot. If she did manage an escape, she figured she’d only last a day before the wilderness killed her or she could be recaptured.

Not to mention, she had found a strange sense of safety in her current predicament, one that as of yet, she had trouble seeing the purpose in surrendering. Hask, Tails, Boze, and Bender, her former traveling companions, were all at the back of the line - exactly where she preferred them to stay. She had made sure to put as much distance between them as possible, sticking herself in the front, right alongside the leader of the royal guards, a green stallion with narrow eyes and a dour scowl. The captain happened to be the lesser of two evils to be dealt with, and consequently she clung to him like a squire to a knight, tagging along at his side in silence. If Hask should try anything again with her, she was counting on the Captain intervening. Or at least, she hoped that was what a royal guard would be compelled to do, though she was no longer sure she could trust any of her preconceptions. Her prior concerns had first felt like cynicism, though now the world seemed to be indulging each of her worst-case scenarios with little apprehension. Now she was in the belly of the whale, stuck between a rock and a hard place.

She had already tried explaining to the guards that she was innocent of any wrongdoing, though her pleas fell on deaf ears. To them, she was just another thief.

The chains dug deep into her skin, and though each step made her ache, she refused to let herself fall behind or become a nuisance. If she could somehow get on the captain’s good side, she figured a daring escape may not even be necessary.

She was too terrified to even glance behind her shoulder, at risk of catching Hask’s line of sight from farther down the line. Her mother and father had warned her about ponies like him. She cursed herself, for having frozen up, for having let herself become helpless, for having trusted any of those ponies at all.

No, she told herself, as the mountain mist gave birth to the first faint drops of drizzle, I’m going to get out of this. I’m going to finish what I started.

She smiled, and her eyes widened, realizing that she may have found an unlikely opportunity after all.

She glanced up at the Captain, whose grimace seemed to have hardened as the rain trickled off his armor.

“You’re not taking us to Canterlot,” Juno figured, speaking over the rain.

The Captain glanced at her, but was otherwise unphased. He didn’t even bother to reply.

Juno did not need his confirmation, however; if they were heading to Canterlot, they would have made it by now. But it had been five days already, still with no sign of stopping.

Juno rubbed at her cuffs.

“You’re lucky, then,” Juno smirked, boldly, “Y’know, I was heading there to meet with some friends of mine. Friends you wouldn’t like to cross.”

The Captain scoffed, and was seemingly amused, and Juno seemed invigorated then, all while feigning resentment for his dismissiveness.

“You won’t be laughing when they find me. You’re gonna be in serious trouble.”

“Is that right,” the Captain muttered under his breath, struggling not to smile.

“That’s right. Y’know what happened to the last ponies who got in Sunset Shimmer’s way?”

Juno nearly tripped over her words, though maintained a cocky grin.

The Captain glared down at her, and his half-smile quickly faded. He assumed she was lying, but how could a foal come by that name to begin with?

“Sunset Shimmer?” he repeated, “You want me to believe you’re friends with Sunset Shimmer?”

“I don’t care what you believe.”

“Nopony’s seen Sunset Shimmer in months. Odds are she’s dead.”

Juno flinched. Sunset couldn’t be dead. Juno had to be the one to kill her, nopony else could take that from her.

“Those friends of hers are still causing a ruckus though, are they coming to your rescue too?” the Captain laughed.

Juno’s ears perked up.

“Which ones?”

“The Washout girl and all those Hellhatch runaways. Every week we get the report, they’re out up to no good.”

Juno allowed herself to smile only for a moment. Washout. Hellhatch. Whoever these ponies are, they could get her closer to Sunset. She was one step closer, and all it took was a little white lie.

“Hm. I guess we’ll see. You better keep an eye out just in case.”

“Right, kid. Will do,” the Captain mused.

Juno finally allowed herself to glance around her shoulder, and could just barely make out Hask’s head from around the corner and down the slope. Sooner than later she would have to find a way out of this, before he could kill her, or try something worse.

Starlight tightened the strap of her coat and fixed her hood, watching the crowd of ponies mill in circles around the central plaza fountain. The sun was nearly set, and ponies were eager to return home.

She had stuck herself in one of the alleyways facing the plaza, searching for anypony who might appear suspicious.

Where is he? Starlight wondered, glancing at the clocktower nearby, What’s taking him so long?

She kept her eyes fixed on the passing crowds of ponies. She might remember a face or two, from her brief time spent with Alias and the Erased. Ponies sat by vine-wrapped streetlamps, sipping short glasses of wine at cafe patios, having to speak up to be heard over the roar of the plaza fountain, which sat in the center. Foals ran and played by the water, fishing for coins. The police had gotten control of the riots downtown, and the city appeared to have made a quick recovery, at least for now. They clung to their routines, and their pleasantries, and their luxuries, willfully ignoring the dog at their doorstep, the unspoken burden to come, the war. Those foals may soon be recruits in an army, and their mothers would be sewing the buttons to their uniforms. Starlight almost pitied the scene, a sad imitation of ordinary life, a last effort for order.

Starlight became alert, when she felt the earth shake below her hooves.

She smiled, and glanced back up at the crowd of ponies, stepping on the tips of her hooves to take a better look. She was searching for anypony acting suspicious, for anything at all.

A flash of white light blinded her for a moment, along with everypony else trotting around the plaza round-about. The crowd came to an abrupt stop, disoriented.

“Bomb!” yelled one pony, who was echoed by some others.

The war was fresh on ponies’ minds, Starlight supposed, though they had nothing to worry about, yet. Still, panic had already set in, with ponies rushing to climb over each other to escape the area.

In the middle of the crowd, Discord suddenly appeared in his pony disguise, grinning with a stray fang stuck out over his lip. Seamlessly, he had teleported another pony right into the middle of the crowd near him.

Starlight’s jaw dropped, realizing the other pony was tied up in duct tape, with a wiry, brick-shaped explosive strapped to his chest.

“Everypony run!” Discord bellowed, “It’s gonna blow!”
Another pony appeared nearby, another incarnation of Discord, a unicorn pony with a patchy beard and dagger teeth. He wore a red armband and a bullet-proof vest.

“Long Live Equestria! To Hell with Twilight Sparkle!” he roared, as his horn began to ignite.

The crowd had been flung into a frenzy now, while more pony variants of Discord began to spring up throughout the crowd. Some were dressed like revolutionaries, some like civilians, and some like policeponies. The policepony variants moved into battle with the revolutionaries, and the civilians did their best to scream, and cry, and obstruct others from escaping too easily. In a matter of moments, at least thirty Discords were brawling in the street, tearing out each other’s manes, beating each other into the concrete.

“Run!” yelled ponies in the crowd, “Run!”
The foals by the fountain, with tears in their eyes, screamed as they darted off from the plaza. Ponies abandoned their dinners at their patio tables, shoving through the crowd to make their escape.

Starlight shook her head in disbelief, but went along with the plan, continuing to comb the crowd as ponies sprinted to escape the madness.

Then something caught her eye - a pony, standing across the street by a cafe awning, wearing a black coat, suit and tie. He was frantically reaching for something in his ear, while nervously backing up away from the fountain.

The crowd, meanwhile, frantically ran in every direction to desert the area, though wherever they meant to run, there were policepony Discords to block their path.

“Let me through!” yelled one, desperately.

“Help!” came another.

Starlight gritted her teeth and moved in, cautiously approaching the pony while he began to mutter things out loud, while holding something stuck in his ear.

He nodded, suddenly, and his horn ignited, aimed straight for the first Discord to have appeared, who was still standing by the fountain, watching on as his replicants battled each other to the death, like a proud father.

Starlight’s eyes widened, and she ignited her own horn, desperately shoving through the crowd to find a clear shot.

“Discord!” Starlight yelled.

Discord came alert, just in time to dodge the beam of magic sent by the pony in the black coat.

Starlight sprang out from the crowd, her horn ablaze, firing straight into the pony’s side.

The blackcoat cried out in pain and fell to the ground, reeling in agony.

Discord’s replicants began to disappear, allowing the crowd to flee the scene.

The crowds had continued to drain out of the plaza, while Starlight stood over the pony, her horn still sparkling.

“Nice try,” Starlight said, pressing her hoof down on the pony’s chest. He grunted, pawing at the burn mark left on his coat.

“You know who I am?” Starlight demanded.

The pony’s eyes widened, as if he had seen a ghost. He nodded, slowly, wincing in pain.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Starlight said, dimming her horn, “...Celestia and Luna. Do you know where they are?”

The pony grimaced. His eyes darted over to Discord by the fountain, and back to Starlight, who still had her hoof stuck firmly over top of his chest.

She heard his mouth crack, and a yellowish capsule suddenly burst apart inside his mouth, spilling down his throat.

“Wait! Stop!” she exclaimed.

The pony began to convulse and foam at the mouth, while Starlight could only watch, helplessly.

Discord arrived behind her, his smile fading away at the grizzly sight.

Starlight sighed, waiting for the pony to stop trembling, before kneeling down beside him.

“I wish you hadn’t done that,” she said.

Starlight hesitated, unsure what to do, before fumbling through his coat and his belt, and reaching for his ID badge. However, she pulled her hoof back, leaving the corpse with his belongings.

“What’s the matter?” Discord asked.

“We don’t know where they’re operating from. His friends are gonna have to show up to clean this up. We can follow them, and hopefully get one step closer to finding Luna and Celestia.”

“I get that, but why not take his things? Those could come in handy getting inside.”

“These ponies aren’t stupid. They’ll notice, and they’ll make sure to try and throw us off the trail.”

Discord scoffed, though seemed impressed.

“Just what do these ponies want with the princesses anyway?”

“Information, probably. The same thing you and I are after.”

Discord reverted to his proper form, stretching in discomfort. His clones began to vanish, with the exception of two, who were busy scrounging for ponies’ leftover grapes on one of the cafe tables.

Discord noticed Starlight’s disapproving glare.

“Relax. I’ve done that stunt tons of times.

“Discord, that was not OK.”
“It worked, didn’t it?”

Starlight shook her head, exhausted.

“They definitely know we’re here now. They won’t risk us following them back as long as we’re at large.”

Discord glanced back at the two remaining clones, and grinned.

“I might have a solution for that.”

Snowflakes glowed gold in the gaze of lantern light. The stars slipped in and out of view, through the feather-dust clouds that scored the sky in speedy strides. Their urgency was mimicked by the ponies below, rushing into the castle courtyard, each carrying crates of food, or weapons, or supplies. Their sweat froze to ice right off their chins, as they hurried to the loading dock. Half of the brigade’s carriages had already left for the mountain pass.

Shining Armor had agreed to Broadwing’s plan, after a lengthy logistics debate. The young prince meant to take Seaguard, a fortress city on the western shore, the northernmost naval stronghold of the Equestrians. But Broadwing was confident that the city, which had once been property of the Empire, would open their gates without much of a fight. Still, Shining was reluctant to the task, particularly with Broadwing leading the siege on his own.

The two princes had decided they would do better split up than in tandem, and so Shining Armor was to remain in the Crystal Empire, gathering military support from the Yaks, Moose, Dains, Reindeer, Novadori, and Selvites. If the North was to have any hope against the might of Equestria, they would need all the strength they could muster.

Broadwing had waited to leave until after the first day of the brigade’s deployment, having meant to keep an eye on the progress of the supply chain. They would be traveling light, though in the event of a prolonged siege, he could not afford to be left under-supplied.

The green pastures that lay across from the Crystal Mountains were mere miles away. Though for all his life, that strange new world was only ever real in his dreams. The snowy wastes of the North were all he had ever known. And now he had charged himself to lead the first strike, to land the first blow. For Cadance, he reminded himself. For the North.

His mother, Primrose, would be remaining with Shining, and had begun to come to terms with the possibility that her son may not return, that he might be intercepted, or caught in a trap. That he might be killed.

Broadwing stood along the battlement wall, staring off at the mountains, watching the caravan of carriages stretch off into the dark, trembling torches shrinking into distant blinks.

“I thought I’d missed you.”

Broadwing was caught by surprise, turning to find his little brother stepping out from the adjacent doorway.

Broadwing smiled, and turned back to the mountains, as Orion marched up beside his brother. Orion was a few inches shorter, though the two were of similar size and strength, regardless. They looked the most alike of any in the family, despite Orion’s own ambiguous parentage, and the horn stuck on his forehead.

“There’s a strange sight,” Orion smirked, “Broadwing’s finally got nothing to say.”

Broadwing scratched at his eyes, exhausted, but laughed under his breath, amused.

“...I keep thinking about all of father’s stories, about battling windigos and shadow ponies and spiders made of ice…I wanted to be there with him, for all of it. I’ve no idea what to demand of myself, not since he's been gone. So I think about what he would’ve done, and I do that. But now I’m to look at each of these ponies’ faces, and learn their names, and know that I might be sending them to die. I wish there was another way, but there’s not. Mother won’t listen to me, but I know it. This is what father would have done. So I have to do this.”

“I know you do,” Orion said, grabbing Broadwing by the shoulder, “If it was my choice, I’d be there beside you.”

Broadwing eyed him.

“On that matter, mother won’t even entertain me.”

“You haven’t heard the latest,” Orion smiled, “She’s arranged for me to serve in the rangers. I’ll be leaving the city not long after you.”

“The rangers?” Broadwing repeated, laughing in disbelief, “You’ll be of more use as one of our dishwashers, than trudging up the mountains with the rangers. Half of them are convicts.”

“She said it would suit me, and my station,” Orion said, flatly, “I don’t have much of a say in it. Don’t worry for my sake, brother. I’m not the one marching off to war.”

“...Next time we meet, I’ll have some stories of my own for you.”

“I’ll be waiting to hear them,” Orion smiled.

Broadwing nodded.

“Goodbye, little brother.”

And the two of them embraced each other, and remained as such for a minute or two. The snows seemed to slow then, and the rush of ponies and carriages below came to a halt. From the mountain peaks, the marching of hooves began to echo through the young prince’s hooves, and his blood began to run faster, craving the urge, craving the battle.

His war had begun.

Weak, weary, and wanting for something to eat, Juno was the last of the prisoners to collapse, after the soldiers had decided to stop and rest for the night.

The silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each barebone tree limb’s leaves kept her from falling asleep, despite her exhaustion.

The soldiers’ leader, who Juno had learned was called Coda, had picked a grassy clearing to make their camp, a small forest buried past the shady mountain lanes.

She had picked herself up before she could get much rest, deciding to make use of what precious time she still had. She could feel Hask staring at her from the other side of the field, his eyes alight like a pair of fireflies.

She scampered over to find Coda, who was occupied fixing stakes to the ground for his tent.

“Have you got any work I can do?” she chimed.

Coda glared at her, though seemed amused.

“Haven’t you pestered me enough today? Go sit with the others.”

“No way,” Juno said, blankly, “How about I go fetch some wood for a fire, or-”

“No,” Coda snapped.

“I won’t run off. I don’t even know where I am! I’d get lost. C’mon, let me do it. C’mon!”

“If you want to make yourself useful, you can start by keeping your mouth shut. OK?”

Juno growled, gritting her teeth together.

“Fine.”

She remained right at his side, however, not having gotten the hint he wanted to be rid of her, completely. He sighed and thought it best not to continue arguing with the foal. He would not be made a fool of, especially in front of the prisoners. He could hear their breath, trembling, waiting for a chance to strike.

“So you seriously don’t believe a word that I’ve said?” Juno stammered, “Do I look like a thief?”

“A street urchin on the run, is my guess. Not my job to sort through the muck. It’s my job to catch ponies.”

“Well, you’re not very good at your job. Is that why you’re out of here, instead of guarding the princess or something? It is, isn’t it! Look at your face!” Juno hollered.

“I won’t tell you again. Get a move on and join your friends, and leave me be, or you’ll regret it.”

“They’re not my friends,” Juno snapped, “I’m not going anywhere near them. They’re gonna-” Juno stopped herself, realizing she wouldn’t be believed anyway.

Coda glared at her, and watched her confidence collapse in an instant. He glanced back to Hask and the others, and back to Juno.

“...Alright. Go get some firewood, then.”

Juno lifted her gaze off the ground, eagerly.

“Really?”

“Be quick about it,” Coda said, “You can sleep over here tonight. Alright?”

Juno smiled, and something in his voice reminded her of her father, as though she wished to earn his respect somehow.

“Thank you,” she said, before scampering away toward the woods.

Juno plucked another twig to add to her stack, a respectable collection of dry wood, perfect for tinder. The sun was nearly set, and she was due to return back to the camp. Coda might have suspected she had run off, otherwise.

“Lost little girl, all on her own…”

Juno froze, spinning around.

There was Hask, his shackles snapped at the chain-links, bruises and scratches adorning his blood-red coat.

“It’s a pity you and I were interrupted. I’d been waiting for a chance to pick up again. Would you like that?”

“Don’t touch me,” Juno warned, taking a step backwards, “Don’t take another step.”

Hask laughed.

“It’s OK to give up, y’know. My boys are taking care of the guards, right now, as we speak. It’ll all be over soon. There’s still a place for you, with us. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“No,” Juno said, shaking in her boots, “I-I’m warning you, I’m not messing around anymore.”

“Heh. I never was.”

Hask began walking toward her, prompting Juno to drop her pile of twigs, backing up in her tracks.

“You must think you’re pretty smart, huh?” Hask growled, “I had a funny feeling, when we found you. Like it was too good to be true. They sent you out to distract us, is that right? You’re working for them, aren’t you. Pity it worked, they picked a good piece of bait, heh. I couldn’t refuse. How could I? Now there’s no more tricks. It’s you and I, now.”

“Get away from me!” Juno managed, searching for something to defend herself with, “I’m gonna stomp your face in, I mean it!”

“I won’t be as nice this time. Or maybe you wanted everything to shake out this way, is that right? You want it to be like this. Heh. I knew it. You little whore. Make it easy or make it hard, I couldn’t care less anymore.”

Juno ran into the tree, right as Hask reached her.

She was too terrified to scream, too terrified to move.

He moved his hoof toward her cheek, grinning madly as he did.

But he never reached her, before the bolt of toxic green magic seared the flesh off his foreleg, burning a hole down to the bone.

Hask screamed in agony, toppling down to the ground on his back. He clung his leg, which was smoking at the crusts of pus and boiling blood.

Coda jumped down out of the brush, followed by the three other guards.

Coda found Juno trembling against the tree, and coldly glanced back down at Hask.

“Get her out of here,” Coda ordered.

The guards began trotting over to Juno, who was still out of breath.

From the ground, Hask spit at Coda’s hooves. The guards stopped their approach, each of them reaching for their weapons.

Coda glanced down at his hooves, and back up to Hask, who was weakly swaying back and forth, delirious from the pain.

Coda swung his hoof into Hask’s face, knocking the blood-red stallion off his knees.

Hask grunted some curses and tried to pick himself up, though never got the chance, before Coda came swinging down on him again, and again, and again, each time Hask trying to withstand the blow. On the sixth strike, he fell back on the grass, blinded by the blood in his eyes. Coda continued, however, stomping down on the stallion’s skull, while Juno watched on, horrified, from right beside him.

Hask was soon left a bludgeoned mess of pulp and blood, twitching between the cracks in his head, leaking blood and bits of brain like a cracked egg.

Coda sighed and wiped his hooves off with the fabric of his cloak.

Juno stayed as she was, her eyes fixated on the gorey remains of Hask. Part of her might have wanted to celebrate, considering what that pony had meant to do with her. But she recalled her father, and the sound he had made before the blast took him, and the blood and the fire and the screaming. She turned away at last, unwilling to look on any longer.

The stars bled into black, above where the moon drank from the edge of the sea, spilling its white milklight into the current.

Starlight Glimmer had made her camp on the edge of a rooftop. Discord was late. Again.

“I’m more useful than just as an errand-boy, you know.”

Starlight jumped, when Discord slithered up past the edge of the roof, finishing off the very last of his grapes.

“Get over here,” Starlight whispered, yanking Discord over the edge of the roof.

“You found them, I take it?” Discord asked.

“Right across the street. The pony who tried to kill you - I saw some of his friends pick up the body, they dragged him with them. I followed them here, to that butcher’s shop over there. It’s a front. What about you?”

“I waited around the mayor’s office until those Erased ponies paid me a visit. They’re currently chasing a decoy uptown. How long before they figure it out?”

“No idea. We’re gonna have to be fast, got it?” Starlight said, “We sneak in, find anything we can on Celestia and Luna, and we’re done. In and out.

“You should give me more of a challenge,” Discord smiled.

“These ponies are dangerous. If they could restrain you once, odds are they can do it again,” Starlight reminded.

“Worry about yourself, Starlight Glimmer. You’re moving slower than you used to.”
“...Can you get us inside?” Starlight asked.
Discord smiled.
“Ah, Starlight, is there anything I can’t do?”
“Shutting your trap, for one.”
Discord growled, before snapping his talons.
In a flash of light, the world shifted into fluorescent fog, a grey elevator descending down.
However, to Starlight’s horror, Discord had teleported them into an elevator, one that happened to be occupied with three Erased ponies, exhausted after a day’s work.
“What the-!” exclaimed one.
Starlight’s horn ignited, blinding two while she kicked back at the other.

She swung her horn across the room, throwing the remaining two agents against the wall before they could recover.
The three bodies slumped to the ground.
“Uh…Whoopsies,” he said, “I’ve never been here before. I had to guess.”
“Warn me the next time you decide to be an idiot.”
The elevator came to a halt, and the doors slid open.

“Let’s take a look around,” Starlight whispered, “Let me know if you find anything.”

Beyond the elevator, they found themselves in a warehouse of old machinery and storage units, bathed in red light and steam.

Discord flew ahead of Starlight, who was checking for exits and sizing up the space of the warehouse.

Discord sniffed out a collection of strange scents - oil, formaldehyde, and what could only be blood.

Above on a catwalk, along a row of zoo-exhibit glass boxes, he found a barred terrarium fixture, dimly lit in the smoking red light.

Inside, he saw a nest of golf-ball sized glowing green eyes. Parasprites, but larger than he had ever seen.

Below in the center floor, Starlight perused the assortment of boxes, containment cells, and strange devices. There was machinery that appeared antiquated in design, though she had never seen anything quite like it. Clunky steel assemblies, some made with pointed tips and hammer-mechanisms. All she was certain of was that they appeared dangerous. Better not to touch.

She might have wanted to find more of the Erased ponies, and interrogate them for answers, that was until she came across the main attraction of the warehouse, there in the very center of the room.

Starlight inspected the object from afar - a pod large enough for a pony to lie down in.

Starlight glanced back at the elevator door, and wondered how much time they would still have before the other agents realized they were here.

Starlight approached the pod, a thick metal cocoon fastened to heavy tubes and wires sticking out into control panels.

Starlight noticed one of the modules, which displayed something that resembled a heart monitor. She glanced back at the pod.

“Discord,” she muttered, though he had not heard her, busy instigating the parasprites’ wrath from outside their enclosure, tapping on the glass with his talon.

Starlight glided her hoof against the metal. It was beginning to rust, and was grimy at the surface.

Her horn ignited, and she lifted the door off of the pod. Steam billowed out from the inside in thick clouds.

From the catwalk, the shriek of steam escaping the pressure took Discord by surprise. He lifted his head to gaze down below, watching as Starlight held the torn-off door mid-air in an aura of magic.

Starlight set the door down on the ground nearby, and took a step back from the pod.

The steam began to clear, as Starlight narrowed her eyes, trying to make out what was inside.

There was a pony, she realized, lying in the pod. The pony’s eyes had begun to open, in spite of the heavy cloud of exhaustion that implored her to remain as she was, helplessly immobilized.

There was a plastic mask stuck over the pony’s mouth, fixed to a tube of filtered oxygen. The pony had been held in place by a series of leather straps that dug into her coat. Wires and tubes were stuck with needles into the pony’s flesh, near her neck, forelegs, and hind thighs.

The pony’s breath had begun to change, from a shuddering, panicked gasp, to a steadier, crueler draw.

Starlight had recognized the pony, despite the bruises and sweat, despite the wires and studs, despite the madness in those eyes.

“Luna.”

Princess Luna snapped her legs against the leather, tearing off her restraints, before removing the wires stuck into her veins.

She staggered out of the pod, glaring at Starlight and Discord, who were paralyzed just a few yards away. Luna grabbed onto the edge of the pod for support, before stepping out into the open.

Starlight opened her mouth to speak, though found the words stuck on her tongue.

Luna narrowed her eyes, first at Starlight, and then at Discord, who was staring down in disbelief, above on the catwalk.

The anger on the alicorn’s face was vivid, a twisted scowl of disgust, remorse, fury.

Luna’s horn began to ignite, a flame of cerulean.

“Discord….Run!”

Discord was too stunned to move, however, waiting until Starlight had to teleport the both of them to the far side of the warehouse, both narrowly evading the torrent of magical devastation that had been unleashed.

Half the warehouse succumbed to the incineration, with experiments breaking free of their cages, and materials spilling out all over the floor. The parasprites were the first to fly free, buzzing wildly out into the warehouse. Other creatures - most of which were strange amalgamations of other animals - fled from the fires, roaring and barking and searching for an escape.

Luna’s breath was shaky, as she struggled to sprout her wings. She stumbled farther along away from the pod, grunting when the last wire snapped out of the stud in her neck.

She fired another blast toward the ceiling, this time burning a hole straight toward the surface. She could make out the stars above, mocking her in their stride.

Starlight scurried back to her hooves, watching Luna begin to take flight. Discord was right beside her, still petrified.

She ascended up in a rage, muttering the same thing under her breath, again and again.

Twilight Sparkle.

Author's Note

Thanks for reading!! Next chapter will be back to the main gang! Luna is going to be causing some problems.

I really like the Discord/Starlight dynamic in the show and am trying to capture that energy, hope it works out. Every episode of the show where they're together is a ***banger***.

I know I am very bad at sticking to schedules for these chapters, but right now I'm shooting for May 18th. The original plan was for ten chapters like last time, though now it's looking like twelve. All of the writing I do in college is very formulaic and doesn't allow for a lot of creativity, so this is sort of like a refuge for me, I try to prioritize it to keep the habit and practice becoming a better writer. Also I've got another Fimfiction story I'm planning to put out in weekly segments, starting in May or June, so be on the lookout!

Hope you liked this one, & thank you again for reading, feedback is always welcomed! <3

05: Bad Times at the Andromeda

Blazing tongues of fire warped the steel of the warehouse, where the roof had begun to collapse upon itself, feeding the infant inferno. The fires roared with such ferocity that the ground had begun to shake, and the air itself bled red.

Starlight Glimmer frantically scoured the rubble around Discord’s outstretched claw, while the rest of him remained buried. She hardly had the strength to lift him, especially while having to dodge the rainfall of ash and burning debris.

“Discord!” she shouted, coughing up the smoke in her lungs.

Discord’s claw began to twitch, right as Starlight could feel her vision begin to dim. The smoke seemed to grow hazier, and the fires too, and she found herself floating almost, before tumbling to her knees.

“Dis…c-” Starlight muttered, as her shoulders fell slack. She fell face first in the rubble, scalding her chest against a shattered sheet of red-hot steel.

Crawling up the rubble, she clasped his claw with her hoof, and her horn began to glow.

In a flash of light, the smoke cleared at once, as did the heat and the fires’ deafening cries.

Starlight still had a grip of Discord’s claw, and the rest of him was covered head-to-toe in black ash, lying on the street pavement like a squashed insect.

Starlight’s hooves were shaky, and she could hardly stand, gazing back at the boiling ball of fire across the street. Her horn dimmed, and she gasped for breath, exhausted.

There were flocks of ponies in the street surrounding them, running for cover in every which way. Luna’s carnage had engulfed a good portion of the city, sending ponies fleeing their homes in panicked droves. The city was under attack, some said. The war had arrived.

Discord coughed, sitting up in a daze.

He glanced over at Starlight, whose eyes were bloodshot, whose coat was stained grey and covered in reddish-black burns.

“She tried to kill me,” Discord grinned, stretching his back, surprised to find himself still in one piece, “And she really meantit this time!”

Starlight staggered to her hooves, brushing herself off as best she could. Another portion of the building fell into itself, raking up new bursts of burning red flames that lit up the night sky.

“Are you hurt?” Starlight replied, glancing around the street, where ponies fled from the fires, screaming in terror. She turned back toward Discord, who winced as he picked at his burns.

But before he could answer, Discord’s eyes widened, and with a flick of his talon, a crumbling mess of debris came flying across the street. Starlight spun around, to see what had caught Discord’s eye. And behind the debris, there stood a pony, a snow-white stallion with a charcoal-black mane, cut short. He had black bags beneath his eyes, and was clad in a black suit and tie.

“What have we here?” Discord cooed.

The pony gritted his teeth and reached for the pistol in his belt. But raising up the weapon, he found it had already been transformed into a candy dispenser, a stick of pink plastic filled to the brim with chewy gummies. The pony threw it to the ground and reached for his belt again, this time drawing a knife. But, once the blade had been drawn, he found it replaced by a carrot.

“Damn you!’ the pony yelled.

Discord soon had him hovering in the air, immobilized in a cloud of red magic.

Starlight approached him, narrowing her eyes.

“I know you,” Starlight said, searching her memory, “You’re one of Alias’ errandboys. No?”

“Eight Ball,” he introduced, “You caught us by surprise. You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Starlight replied, “And sorry about your headquarters, too.”

“He’s one of your friends?” Discord asked.

“He’s from the Erased’s detail of dimwits,” Starlight said, glancing at Discord, “Discord, find us somewhere more private. We need to get out of the open. Police will be here soon.”

Discord nodded.

“And him?”

Starlight nodded. If the Erased had possession of Luna, there was reason to believe they might have Celestia stowed away somewhere too. Alias knew all along. He kept this all from me. She was not sure she was surprised.

Discord snapped his claw, and the three of them disappeared in a flash of light.

The world returned on the roof of an abandoned building, stuck in a shadowy corner in the center of the city. Below, clotheslines held yesterday’s laundry, bathing in the orange light that poured out from apartment windows. Faded scarlet paint ran up the ranks of the building, where Starlight stood by the edge, hastily searching the alleyways below for prying eyes.

Discord took a seat right in the air, clearing his throat and chewing on a green apple he had summoned to his teeth.

Starlight Glimmer had finished checking the fire escape for any lurking trails, before joining the others on the roof.

“You won’t escape her,” Eight Ball said, “I suppose just one alicorn wanting you dead wasn’t enough.”

“How long have you been in the city?” Starlight asked.

“Less than a month,” Eight Ball said, “Clever trick, those clones of yours. I was wasting my time following them for hours.”

“Trixie, my friend. Is she safe?”

“She works for Alias now, is what I heard. Went behind his back, sent Cadance’s letter to the press. Your friend’s the one who started the war, I’m afraid.”

Starlight’s eyes widened. She was not sure whether to be proud or horrified. Trixie?

She was frightened by the thought of Trixie standing up to Twilight, though relieved as well; she always knew Trixie had it in her.

“He’s more talkative than I’d have expected,” Discord chimed, “He must expect us to let him go.”

“Nothing I’ve told you is particularly confidential,” Eight Ball said, sneering at Discord.

“In that case…” Starlight said, “Luna. Why was she locked in a box in your basement, and what was she hooked up to?”

Eight Ball scowled.

“It doesn’t matter. The project is ruined now that you’ve set her free.”

“Then it won’t trouble you to tell us the truth,” Starlight said, “...If there’s something you can tell us that can help us calm her down, it would save Equestria from a great deal of tragedy. As far as I could tell, she's still on a warpath.”

“No, I think not…” Eight Ball said, glancing at the ground, “....We captured Luna not long after the murders in Ponyville. I’m not aware of exactly when, how, or where. But I do know why. The Chief intended to harvest her alicorn magic, use it to power a new superweapon, something that could even the odds against Twilight.”

Starlight glanced at Discord, who seemed interested in the prospect.

“Fight fire with fire,” Starlight said, incredulously, “These experiments, were you successful?”

“We infused the first batch of magical extract into eight of our test subjects. None survived the procedure, except one. But it escaped. For a year now, we’ve been trying to achieve the same results, but none of our efforts have been successful. Chief put me in charge here, hoping to change our fortune.”

“You ponynapped Princess Luna and turned her into a living battery for your twisted tests?” Starlight stammered, horrified.

“We had no real weapon to use against Twilight. The Chief was going to try harvesting your magic at some point as well, before you ran away.”

“Of course,” Starlight said, rolling her eyes. She wouldn’t have expected less.

“The two of you are in more danger than you realize,” Eight Ball said, “The magic inside Luna, it’s entwined with her nervous network. Each time we poked and prodded, we effectively split her mind into smaller and smaller fragments. She’s unstable. Erratic. As long as she’s on the loose, Equestria won’t be safe.”

“We’re going to have to find her first,” Discord said.

“That won’t be so hard,” Starlight said, “Odds are she’ll come looking for us anyway. We might just ha-...”

Starlight meant to continue, until her ears picked up a thin screech, frail and miniscule like a faraway shattering of glass. Starlight’s face turned pale, and she slowly glanced up to the night sky.

“Stay right next to me!” Starlight whispered to Eight Ball and Discord, igniting her horn.

“Speak of the devil,” Discord laughed.

The shrieking sound grew in volume, until Discord could hear it as well. On and on it went like a wailing siren, barreling toward the earth like a meteor.

Starlight could hear the devastating impact, long before the clouds of dust began to waft out through the night.

Luna had come, stalking out from the crater she had left on the rooftop concrete, her horn glowing a violent shade of blue. A black madness twinkled in her eyes, like some rabid animal. She was a fallen angel then, bleeding blue fire, vengeance incarnate.

Luna’s face was painted red with blood. Whose was it, Starlight wondered. What’s happened?

Starlight could see the remnants of the steel studs that had been stuck into Luna’s nerves and marrow, crude cavities left exposed to the heat of the night.

Her breath was a hurricane. Her glare was a vacuum, twisting the night sky surrounding her, spinning her silhouette into a haunting, twisted shape.

She turned to face Starlight, with a face full of rage.

“There you are.”

The sky was as black as the walls of Canterlot below her, smothered in ash and smoke. The rain fell soft and steady, muffling the soldiers’ march and darting down the corridor moonglass.

Rarity found the palace a storied horror at night, with its winding passageways scarcely lit by torches, and its towering spires that loomed and lurched like a kraken’s tendrils. A fortress of twisting turns and razor-edged ramparts, the palace was cluttered with attendants, soldiers, officers, and government officials, all of them milling about in desperate droves, taking shelter from the rain.

But Rarity had escaped them all, following a marble stairwell up to the main hall, and beyond, the throne.

After a tedious day of hearings and conferences, Rarity expected to find Twilight in a state of exhaustion, which might work to her benefit. She could hear her own heavy breathing. She had spoken to nopony. From time to time she glanced over her shoulder, to see if she was being pursued. She would be, soon enough. Her persistence would sooner appear as a cause for suspicion, than any simple gesture of friendship.

Before she could confront the throne room gates, she considered one last time if she would be wiser to turn around, and flee the city as Trixie had insisted countless times. Rarity scoffed. Trixie was as much a coward as she had always been, only now the repercussions would be tenfold in their severity.

Rarity opened the gates in a graceful motion, slipping inside. The air turned colder, and the torchlight that poured out from the grand chandeliers burned dimly like a dull furnace.

There was a strange silence there in the throne, a hollow reflection, a face full of disbelief.

“Rarity?” Twilight gawked, her eyes widening in shock.

Rarity smiled, and pranced over further down the hall.

Twilight was not alone, surrounded on either side by two of her royal guards - the raven-maned Venger and and the grizzly Grey Wick.

“I pray I haven’t interrupted anything, darling,” Rarity said, “I only wanted to check in on you.”

Twilight smiled, and seemed to relax slightly.

“I’m glad to see you,” Twilight said, “...I’ve been worrying about you, and Rainbow and Applejack, Pinkie and Fluttershy. I can’t stand not knowing whether you’re all safe.”

“We’re as safe as can be, I think,” Rarity confirmed, “Though it’s true, ponies fear for their lives.”

“They have good reason to,” Twilight said, shaking her head, “I’m the one who did this to them. Who led them all astray.”

“Don’t say such nonsense,” Rarity chided, “Ponies still believe in you. You are our princess.”

Twilight smiled, half-heartedly.

“And do you trust your princess?” Twilight beckoned.

Rarity took a step closer.

“We would follow you to the end, Twilight,” Rarity said.

“The end,” Twilight repeated, bemused, “...There is nothing I wouldn’t give to return home. Before the crown, before the castle, before these wings. When it was the six of us, and Celestia, and Sp-” Twilight began, before shutting her eyes in despair.

“...Spike,” Rarity continued, “I had been meaning to ask about him. He’s never gone more than a day without bothering me. Is he alright?”

Twilight sunk into the cold embrace of her throne, and her face turned sour-purple again.

“...We are all being stretched thin, these days. Spike has been busy helping me. I’m sure he’ll find a chance to see you soon,” Twilight said, with such conviction she had almost come to believe it.

Rarity nodded, understanding.

“I wish you would leave the city, go somewhere safe,” Twilight advised, “Everyday it seems I lose another friend.”

Rarity glanced at the ground.

“...That would remind me - I know it’s none of my business, and…I understand the severity of Cadance’s crime. But I had hoped to speak to her, perhaps guide her back to reason.”

Twilight eyed her.

“I have tried as much, relentlessly. But she is fickle, spontaneous. I fear some darkness has overcome her, one I have yet to understand fully. You could not see her, anyway. She’s being relocated south to the Ghostfort. It’s much too dangerous to keep her locked up here in the palace.”

“Ah,” Rarity said, nodding her head.

“Your highness,” came Wedge Ward, marching in through the ajar throne room doors.

Twilight struggled to pull her eyes away from Rarity, until she caught sight of the creature Wedge was escorting.

“Ah, Callidus! Come in.”

Callidus, a yellow-green changeling with reddish horns and deep purple eyes, had come sauntering in, taking little care to bow to the princess.

Wedge glanced at Twilight, hesitant to leave her alone with the changeling.
Twilight’s eyes darted over to him, narrowing.
Wedge gritted his teeth and complied, trudging back out through the throne room doors.
“Princess,” Callidus said, though his eyes were locked onto Rarity.
Twilight glanced at Rarity, and supposed she might as well speak plainly.
“Rarity is a trusted friend of mine. You mustn’t worry.”
“As you wish,” Callidus replied.
“You did well, the last time I made use of your services,” Twilight said.

“A job well done, yes, but done in vain. I caught your runaways. Now they’ve all escaped, I heard,” Callidus reminded.

“They did. And I am quite confident that one of, if not all of them, are responsible for Cadance’s letter reaching the press. Though it is quite a tricky thing - to have gotten their hooves on that letter, they would have had to have a pony on the inside. A creature who could take the form of anyone, perhaps. One prone to playing both sides.”

Callidus laughed. “If I was your betrayer, why would I answer your summons now? I’d already have ruined you, I would have fled to the west already, retired to some island in blissful exile.”

Callidus meant to bellow out some more taunts, before a ring of purple magic had manifested around his neck, crushing his throat closed.

Twilight lifted Callidus into the air, where he began flailing about, gasping for breath. Spit foamed up at the edges of his mouth, as his eyes began to turn bloodshot.

“I am by no means ruined, you craven cutthroat. And do well to remember - those who come to me in deceit, will remain in death. Nothing escapes me. No - if a rat dies in Old Harbor, I hear of it,” Twilight giggled, “So be assured. If I should have the slightest concern of treachery….I will tear off those pretty purple wings and hang them from the western spire.”

Twilight released Callidus, who came crashing down to the ground, gasping for breath.

“Sunset Shimmer….Trixie Lulamoon….Lightning Dust, Bon Bon, Suri Polomare. My contact in the Erased has indicated one of them is a collaborator.”

Rarity’s eyes widened. She has a spy in the Erased. It would not take long to discover Trixie.

“Find which one of them obtained the letter, and find out how,” Twilight continued,“Bring any and all suspects to me, alive. If you complete this task without incident, your reward will be triple what you were given last time.”

Callidus climbed up to his hooves, wiping the spit from his mouth, pawing at the red mark left around his neck.

“Understood, Princess.”

Rarity trembled, especially when Callidus’ eyes passed over her.

Miles crashing by, tear gas and bullet casings slipped between blinks of red and blue. The air was poison, and the ground growled beneath their hooves. Canterlot was a second sun, staining the land fire-red, coughing up smoke to block out the stars.

Moon Dancer’s carriage was still intact for the most part, with the exception of some brick-dents and scratches, and some engine damage. She had followed Sunset’s instructions, taking a dirt path higher up into the mountain rise, parking on a wide part of the ridge by the city outskirts.

The shadow of the mountain held them in its grasp,

Wallflower Blush was still clad in her lacy blue gown, covered in burns, bruises, and glass cuts. Lightning Dust had fared the worst, boasting a black eye and a new ache in her hind leg. Suri was still trembling, recalling the rioters’ wrath.

They had all escaped the carriage in a state of exhaustion. Sunset was the only one who could manage to stand up straight, and was somewhat amused to find they were not the only ones to have found refuge here.

“Bon Bon,” Sunset said, sauntering over towards the small campsite that Bon Bon had set up.

“Figured we’d rendezvous at Plan B,” Bon Bon said, “You all got out OK?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Suri muttered, crawling her way to the campsite, before planting herself on top of a mossy brick wall, groaning, “I think I’ve cracked a nail.”

“Should I call the hospital or the spa?” Lightning smirked.

“Sunset,” came another pony, Kickstart, who had been sitting by the fire, opposite to Scootaloo, whose face was half-covered in ash.

“No, no, don't get up,” Sunset said, sarcastically, "Where've you two been?"

“Getting some fresh air,” Kickstart said, “Mandola sent me off to steal back some powder kegs from the Thirty Thieves, he said he was owed. She wasn’t supposed to come along, but…”

Scootaloo smiled, chewing on a carrot.

"I helped!" Scootaloo declared.

Lightning and Wallflower joined them, sitting on some of the rocks facing the fire.

Kickstart’s eyes lit up at the sight of Wallflower in her dress, much to Lightning’s chagrin.

He noticed Lightning next, and reached for something in his bag.

“I stopped by Mandola’s on the way out,” Kickstart said.

He revealed Scampers, the rat, and Lightning cried out in relief.

Scampers too seemed ecstatic, wriggling free of Kickstart’s grip and scurrying over to Lightning.

“I brought bread too, but he ate it all,” Kickstart said.

Lightning’s eyes darted back up to him.

“Thanks, Kicks,” Lightning said, beaming while holding the rat against her chest.

Behind her, by the carriage, Moon Dancer’s frantic tinkering made itself known.

“This will take me weeks to fix!” Moon Dancer barked.

Sunset ignored her and turned back to the others.

“I’ve got good news. I know how we can pay off our debt to Mandola,” Bon Bon said, “Downtown, all the bad apples are gathering in one place. Some underworld den of depravity, is what I heard.”

“Hm. Why weren’t we invited?” Suri asked.

“What of it?” Sunset asked.

“There’s an auction going on. Millions of bits on the line. Everypony in Equestria wants it," Bon Bon said, "Everypony in the District was talking about it."

Sunset nodded.

“That sounds familiar,” Sunset said.

“How do you mean?” Bon Bon asked.

“....Moon Dancer was right.”

“Shocker!” Moon Dancer laughed from inside the hood of the carriage.

“Fancy Pants, or rather, the ponies he works for - they were the ones who snuffed out our dearly departed Razor Blade. They’re the ones on our trail. He was freaked out about something, too, a project. Twilight is involved with it somehow. That’s what your auction is probably for.”

“Did he know what it is exactly?” Bon Bon asked.

“No. But he knows a pony who does," Sunset said.

“Alright! I hope they’re in a talking mood,” Lightning grinned, catching a punch with her hoof.

Sunset’s eyes centered in on Lightning.

“I’m glad you think so, Dust. Because this one’s yours.”

Lightning’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah. The pony's name is Fire Streak, he works at the Wonderbolt Academy in Cloudsdale," Sunset said, "You know Cloudsdale the best, it's got to be you who checks it out."

Lightning’s smile fell off her face. The words made her skin turn pale, and her eyes twitch.

“The…Wonderbolt Academy?” Lightning repeated.

Sunset raised an eyebrow.

“That’s what I said. What’s the matter?”

“I…uh…I don’t know, Sunset, that’s…”

“...Dust, we’ve only got three pegasi," Sunset said, "One’s a cripple, one’s a foal, and-”

“The other is a moron,” Suri laughed. Wallflower promptly jabbed her in the side, glaring at her.

“They’d recognize me!” Lightning realized, relieved to have found an excuse, “And I don’t think the Wonderbolts are keen on lending me any favors.”

“This little project of Twilight’s…if it turns out to be something serious, we can’t pass off on a chance to find out more,” Sunset said.

Lightning bit her lip, glancing at the ground.

“What are you so afraid of?” Suri asked.

“I…They…I don’t know, I just…”

Sunset shook her head.

“You’re always begging for a chance to see some action,” Sunset said, narrowing her eyes, “Now I give it to you, and you get cold hooves? Really?”

Lightning’s eyes flashed up towards Sunset.

Like you care what I think, Lightning wished she could say. But the words never left her lips.

“There’s more important things we could be doing than getting the better of Twilight,” Wallflower said.

Sunset sighed, glaring over at Wallflower.

“We weren’t the only ones out for trouble at the Gala,” Wallflower said, “The radios are all saying the same thing - the hippogriff princess has been kidnapped.”

“How’s that our problem?” Suri said, picking at her hooves.

“Don’t you want a chance to get our good names back? She’s just a kid. We should help her!”

“We’ve already ripped off the band-aid, haven’t we?” Suri laughed, “Equestria’s made up their minds about us already.”

“You did good back there at the Gala, Wallflower,” Sunset said, “I’ll give you that. But we’ve got a lead now. A real lead. Now that everypony knows the truth about Twilight, she's gonna go even further off the rails. We can stop her, but we have to stick to my plan. These rich crooks don’t want us to get our hooves on this project, and I’d bet Twilight doesn’t either.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Wallflower said, while Lightning struggled to speak up on her own behalf, “She can’t just sneak into the Academy and shake the guy down. It’s a death trap.”

“No…No, I’ll do it,” Lightning said, lifting her eyes off the floor.

Sunset glanced over at her, surprised.

“If it’s what you think is best, I’ll do it,” Lightning said.

Wallflower glared at Sunset, disappointed.

“That-a girl,” Sunset smiled.

“Then I’m going too!” Scootaloo insisted.

“Absolutely not,” Lightning shook her head.

“Spitfire and all the Wonderbolts know me. And they won't know I’m helping you. I could distract them!”

“I’ll tag along,,” Kickstart said. Scootaloo's eyes widened.

“No," Scootaloo exclaimed, "You shouldn’t! What about-”

Kickstart glared at her, and Scootaloo promptly bit her tongue.

“Find out who these ponies are and what they want with us,” Sunset instructed, “And don’t make too much of a mess.”
Lightning sprang up to her hooves. Wallflower glanced at her.
“Are you sure about this?” Wallflower asked, “...I’d come too, if I could fly.”

Lightning smiled.

“You snuck into the royal palace, drank champagne ten yards away from Twilight Sparkle. You’re a lot braver than me, y’know.”
“Just…be careful, please,” Wallflower said.
Lightning leaned in for a hug, Wallflower’s curly locks sliding over her shoulder.
“No promises.”

Red light revealed the derelict den of dollar-dolls, smothered in smog and doused in acid rain. Jets of steam were stained green, blue, and deep purple, while broken needles came sprinkling from fire escapes.

Staring into the rotting abyss, Blondie had the beginnings of a grin wrapped around his cigar.

This place felt like home.

The howling Canterlot Express had left the station, some ways away, coughing up clouds of black. Below, over narrow bridges molded in moss and shattered street lamps, crooked figures lurked in long coats, dragging their hooves through puddles and sticking to the edges of the shadowy depths.

There, in the bowels of the city, Blondie recalled the names of these roads, from buried memories. He made no sign of it, however, and had allowed Salt Shaker to lead the way, through crowds of sunken faces and yellow eyes, through lavender mists and cannibalized police cars.

Rainbow Dash had hoped to find Canterlot a familiar haven, and was sorely disappointed to find herself venturing down this side of town.

Scampering across oil-slick sewer grates and sidewalk grime, Rainbow caught up to Blondie, when the scent of fresh bread caught her nose.

Mandola’s, read the sign on the bakery, and she struggled to pass by the allure.

She kept up with Blondie, however. She had a feeling this was a bad place to get lost.

Blondie pushed his way through a small crowd of teenagers, with Rainbow right on his tail.

They found Salt Shaker on the side of the road, laughing with some short stallion by a lamppost.

The stallion had a jet black mane and a heavy brow, with a cat’s scratches decorating his face.

The stallion noticed Blondie and Rainbow as they approached.

“These friends of yours?” he asked.

“Yours now too,” Salt said, ushering Blondie to be friendly, “Blondie, Rainbow Dash, this is Speedy, an old friend of mine.”

Blondie narrowed his eyes, unsure why Speedy seemed so fixated on him, and him alone. Speedy too seemed unsure of himself, as if he recognized the stallion from somewhere.

“Bad time to visit,” Speedy said, glancing back to Salt, “Downtown’s been overrun with rioters. Gotten so bad that the cops haven’t paid us a visit for two days. They’ve got their hooves full up there.”

“We don’t plan on staying long,” Salt said, “Nor would we want to cause any scene.”

Speedy shook his head.

“You always say that. All good intentions and fancy talk, then you’ve got double-digit body counts and twice as many enemies as you had yesterday. Whatever you’re up to, keep me out of it,” Speedy croaked.

“I can’t help ponies who lack a capacity for cooperation,” Salt said, shrugging.

“Word’s reached us of what you’ve been up to in Manehattan. Crozer and Trench are dead because of you, is that right?” Speedy said.

“Don’t give him all the credit,” Blondie chimed, taking the cigar out of his mouth.

“The Black Hoof is having a succession crisis. Most of the Underground works for me now, and the rest have been sent scattering,” Salt said, “That’s two less problems for you and yours to deal with. You’re welcome.”

“Some Undergrounders just bit it a couple weeks ago, a few blocks from here. We had all thought it was you.”
Salt Shaker shook his head.

“Perhaps our actions in Manehattan proved to be inspirational,” Salt grinned, “Ponies aren’t so afraid of the Underground anymore.”

“Yeah, pat yourself on the back, big shot,” Speedy said, “Except now the Black Hoof’s got no competition. They might have lost their boss, but they had their shit together better than the Underground, after all. They own Manehattan, through and through. Sooner than later they'll be running these streets too.”

“They've been this way?” Salt asked, his smile fading.

“Hellcat and his boys have. They were searching for you, as a matter of fact. Said if you don’t bring them what you owe before the Summer Sun Celebration, you’re dead meat,” Speedy said, “I don’t know what you did to piss them off, but it worked.”

Rainbow glanced at Blondie, recalling the threats Crozer had made. Fluttershy. Pinkie Pie. Her teammates.

“That’s two weeks from now,” Salt said, failing to convince himself there was nothing to worry about.

“What’s he want with you?” Speedy demanded.

“We had an arrangement,” Salt said, “We’re looking for a pony, calling herself Menteuse. My friend Blondie here tracked her down to this district. Where is she?”

Speedy glanced back at Blondie, disturbed over how Blondie could have possibly discovered that information.

“The briefcase!” Speedy said, lowering his voice, “That’s what this is about?”

“The Black Hoof wants to sell it for a profit,” Salt explained.

“So do we,” Blondie added.

“Good luck with that,” Speedy laughed, “You and the Black Hoof both. She’s built up quite the operation, these past weeks.”

“Does she still have it?” Rainbow demanded.

“She does,” Speedy confirmed, “That little girl’s stolen every customer the Black Hoof and Underground ever had. She’s auctioning that damned thing off to the highest bidder. The price is at five million bits. That’s twice as much as four days ago.”

“Crozer will come back from the dead just to burn down all of Manehattan, if he's beaten by that girl,” Salt laughed, “I’d almost like to see that.”

“Where can we find her?” Blondie asked.

Speedy snickered.

“My mistake. I wasn’t under the impression you had five million bits to spare. This game is bigger than the likes of you, Salt. The richest creatures in Equestria and beyond are all gathered here. This is out of your league.”

Speedy continued laughing, until he noticed the blank expressions on the others’ faces.

“....Oh, Salt. Don’t try it.”

“We came a long way,” Salt smiled, “We’d appreciate some help, for old time’s sake.”

“Ha!” Speedy bellowed, “This girl’s got major security. Defectors from the Underground and Black Hoof. Ex-royal guards. Half of them think of her as a daughter, and the other half want to split her sideways. Either way, they’re devoted to her. She treats ‘em better than those Manehattan kingpins ever did.”

“Where’s the auction?” Blondie asked.

“The old speakeasy on Constitution. Andromeda. You can’t get in unless you’re on the list, which, I will assume, you’re not.”

“You can get us on that list though. Can’t you?” Salt said.

“Of course I can,” Speedy insisted, “But you’ll have to find someone else stupid enough to run that kind of risk. If you get caught, you’re dead. One mistake is all it takes.”

“That’s why it has to be you,” Salt grinned, “You've never once screwed up a job before."

Speedy narrowed his eyes.

“I got kids now. I got a life. This isn't a pool I want to dip my hoof in. Not to mention, I don’t owe you a thing!”

“No, you don’t. But say my bid pays off at the end of all this. I might just have a few million bits to share with an old friend, who would otherwise remain here with empty pockets.”

Speedy smiled, and shook his head, amazed at the Salt’s boldness.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Speedy said, laughing at himself, “...Alright. For old time's sake. I can get you inside. But just them two. You’d be recognized, Salt. You'd stand a foot taller than everypony else in the room. These two just need a few adjustments, and they might make it in unnoticed. Might, as you will. I’ll make no promises.”

“And I’ll ask for none,” Salt said, exchanging his hoof for Speedy to shake.

Speedy approached Blondie and Rainbow, who shared a look of uncertainty.

“Welcome to high society.”

Of all places, why here?
Trixie scowled to herself, sipping at her second mug of cheap cider, burying herself deeper in the dark edges of the tavern corridor. Her disguise seemed pointless - that night, few ponies could even stand up on their own, let alone recognize her as a national fugitive. The wooden ceiling rafters glowed orange by the chandelier, swinging ever so slightly in the stormy draft. Rain came teeming down in a misty tide, obscuring the cobblestone streets outside in a hazy veil.

Trixie made her best effort to remain calm. She was right out in the open, exposed, for the first time in what felt like years. Faces were no longer familiar, and neither was the trembling sensation in her own heart, which was beating faster than it ever had before. She could not suffer her own charades, not now. This was real. She could not run away, either, no matter how tempting that may have seemed. She had signed up for this, she recalled. Starlight would have done the same, if their places had been exchanged. She was sure of it. And the thought gave her comfort, as if she was not quite as alone as she believed.

The bustling tavern crowd seemed to grow rowdier with each passing minute. A pony’s tail whipped against Trixie’s shoulder, forcing her to spill a quarter of her drink on the table.

Trixie growled and considered giving the boorish oaf a lesson in manners. She decided instead to dig back into her bread and cheese.

Across the room, Trixie spotted a new pair of eyes in the dark, glaring right toward her. Balding and covered in filth, he had his hoof over his mouth, eyeing her from his back-corner booth.

Trixie continued chewing her food, and her eyes drifted over to her left. There was another pony, leaner than the first, bearded with a bug’s eyes, wild and bulging out from his skull.

Trixie felt her throat close up, and she set her piece of bread down on her plate.

She sat patiently, while the bald pony to her right rose up from his seat. The lean pony did the same, lurching over to avoid hitting his head on the wooden banister.

Trixie leaned back in her chair, and, with chattering teeth, tried her best to focus on the right spell. Turn to ice? She was rusty with that one. Teleport? Not a chance, she could rarely get that one right, especially under pressure. The chair leg. What? Break the chair leg off. Swing it into their skulls. Trixie laughed at how ridiculous the idea sounded. But she was too terrified to cast a proper spell. Improvisation would have to suffice.

She slowly pushed her seat back, preparing to jump out and rip the leg off the chair.

But she was caught by surprise by a third figure, this one approaching her head-on, seating themself opposite to her at her table.

Trixie’s eyes widened, and she slowly sat back up in her chair.

“Mind if I join you, darling?” came Rarity, clad in a tan-colored coat. Her navy mane was hidden in a wide-brimmed hat.

Rarity reached for a passing waitress, while Trixie stared on in disbelief.

“I’ll have the same, my dear,” Rarity beckoned.

Trixie glanced around the tavern, watching as the lean stallion stared on with a bloody glare, before easing back over to his booth. The balding stallion had disappeared entirely.

Trixie gave a great exhale and lowered her head, exhausted.

Another pony joined them at the table. He was the crystal guard Rarity had saved, Starbuck, sporting a buckball cap and a bomber jacket.

“My apologies for the delay. The city is a labyrinth of police tape now,” Rarity muttered.

“I’m taking a big risk coming out here like this,” Trixie reminded, “So whatever you wanted to tell me so bad, it had better be important.”

Rarity nodded, smiling to herself.

“Cadance’s letter seems to have gotten under Twilight’s skin. She’s frightfully volatile these days. Anxious, distant, vindictive. I do believe she’ll begin making mistakes she would not have otherwise made.”

Trixie nodded, glad to have stuck one back to her nemesis.

“But this has come at a cost. To you and your friends, in particular,” Rarity said, “She’s sent her assassin to find you. He’s a changeling, I fear, so you ought to be more suspicious of those close to you.”

“Including you?” Trixie asked.

Rarity sighed.

“I take no joy in betraying my friend. But I fear this war, this madness will be the ruin of all. If we don’t do something, Twilight will be glad to rule over the ashes.”

“We told the world the truth," Trixie said, "Beyond that, I’m not sure how much help we can offer.”

Rarity grinned.

“That would take me to my second piece of information. Princess Cadance - she’s no longer being held in the palace dungeon. She’s been transferred out of Canterlot, south to the Ghostfort. Twilight said as much herself.”

Trixie glanced at Starbuck, who seemed to have perked up at the mention of Cadance’s name.

“You want me to rescue Cadance?” Trixie asked, stunned.

“Your bungling bunch of spies has been compromised,” Rarity said, “Twilight has a spy in their midst.”

Trixie scoffed in disbelief.

“If that’s true, I should let Alias know,” Trixie said.

Rarity shook her head. “Absolutely not. You cannot risk letting them track you down,” Rarity said, “Twilight knows about you, don’t you understand? She’ll use whatever means possible to take you in, dead or alive. But Cadance must be freed. If she can join the fight, Twilight will be overwhelmed, she’ll have to sue for peace.”

Trixie sighed, unsure of the risk.

“I….I can’t do it on my own.”

“You won’t,” came Starbuck, “I’ll go with you. I swore an oath to protect Cadance. Let me come with you." He glanced at Rarity, before centering in on Trixie, “Your spy friends can’t be trusted. Somepony’s got to do it. So why not you?”

“I…” Trixie said, struggling to formulate her excuse.

“Trixie,” Rarity said, grabbing her hoof, “If you do this, we’ll have won the war. We’ll have saved Equestria.”

Trixie sighed, falling back into her chair.

“...There’s no point,” Trixie said, “Without the Erased’s resources, I can’t get out of the city undetected. Especially with a changeling assassin hunting me down.”

Rarity bit her lip, puzzled. Then Trixie’s eyes widened, before she tried to compose herself.

“What is it?” Rarity asked.

“I….No, it’s stupid.”

“What’ve you got?” Starbuck said.

“...There are disavowed agents...if I could reach out to them, get them involved, we could get out of Canterlot without getting caught.”

Rarity beamed, ecstatic.

“Splendid! I always knew you had one or two good ideas,” Rarity said.

“...I’ll do it,” Trixie managed, “On one condition.”

Rarity’s smile faded.

“Whatever could it be?”

“You need to get out now, Rarity. Go back to Ponyvile, go back to Sweetie Belle. Then disappear. Make it so you can’t be found,” Trixie instructed.

“Darling, we’ve only just-”

“Twilight will catch on to you, if she hasn’t already. I’m telling you right now, you’ve done all you can. Now you need to cut your losses," Trixie said.

Rarity sighed, and glanced between Starbuck and Trixie.

“Fine, then we have a deal,” Rarity said, “I fear we won’t see each other for a long while, then. The Ghostfort is a ways away. I suppose I’ll admit, we made something of a team.”

“Yeah,” Trixie said, reluctantly, “Just, stay out of trouble, please.”

“Worry for yourself, my dear,” Rarity sang, “Sooner than later all of Equestria will be after your head.”

Trixie smirked.

“I’m used to it.”

Stormwinds stowed and shuddered in the night, over where the trees trembled and the stars hid themselves away in the void. Jagged, thin feather-strips of grey vapor jetted out past the waning moon, like the claws of some beast reeling in a fresh kill.

Lightning Dust wiped the condensation off her forehead, crossing another threshold as she ascended up from the thicker collection of clouds below.

Straps stuck to her harness led to a smaller open-chariot, a rental flight-unit paid for by Suri. Kickstart held onto the railing, alongside Scootaloo, who was bouncing up and down in excitement. Rainbow Dash was bound to be in Cloudsdale, she figured. Regardless of Lightning’s reluctance, Scootaloo knew Rainbow’s enlistment would only help their chances of coming out alive.

Lightning found herself in a state of intense exertion, dragging the golden chariot behind her as she pushed higher and higher into the air. She had been at it for hours already, wheezing through her nose. Months of minimal food intake and a heightened sense of anxiety appeared to have had adverse effects on her physical performance, Lightning kept her complaints to herself, however. She had volunteered for the mission, after all.

She could feel the change in the air, the smell of home.

She could recall returning home when it was nearly dark, and reaching for the door handle. She was still so little, she had to fly up a bit into the air to reach it.

She hesitated with her hoof over the handle, when she heard shouting voices, and remembered what the race official had told her.

Emergency.

Her parents had left early, and it had taken her an hour to fly home on her own after the race. The loser’s lap, she told herself. She was too tired to sulk in defeat, but she already knew she wouldn't get any sleep that night. I failed. I lost to that stupid girl, Rainbow Dash. Who does she think she is?

She couldn't think about that right now. If there really was an emergency, then she would need a clear head. Her parents might need her help!

She gently opened the door, catching her father and mother mid-quarrel.

Her father, Hailstorm, cut himself short, eyeing the filly as the door swung close behind her.

There was a silence, as her mother wiped away tears and her father was breathing so heavily he seemed to be on the verge of a stroke.

“...Is everything OK?” Lightning asked, hesitantly.

Hailstorm almost felt like laughing, before ejecting himself from the exchange, dragging his hooves over toward Lightning, while her mother, Stardust, shook her head in despair. He was not himself sometimes. That’s what mother would call it.

“I don’t know what to do,” he muttered.

“What’s going on?” Lightning stammered, confused by her father’s ramblings.

“Are you going to play the fucking idiot, kid? Now?”

“The race?” Lightning asked, terrified. She had half-a-mind to break for the door and run, though she was frozen in place.

“Twenty years. Twenty years your mother and I have worked putting food on this table, and a roof over your head, for you and your sister. It was your choice to join the cadet corps, your choice to take that fucking summer class, and the night lesson. All for you. We just fucking threw that all away."

“Dad, it was just one race,” Lightning said, silently gulping, “I’ll beat that new girl next time, I promise!”

Hailstorm shook his head.

“You thought you had something, well, you don’t. Maybe you never did. Maybe I gave you too much credit. Maybe I ran on dumb hope. You don't have any idea how much money just went down the drain, do you? Of course you don't. You don't care!"

"I do!' Lightning squeaked, "I do care! I'm sorry...I’m faster than every other one of those ponies! You know that! I-I-I just got d-distracted! It was an accident! Please don’t take me out of the cadets, dad!”

Her father laughed, incredulously.

“Your sister never asked for a thing. But you…I give you the world and you throw it back in my face. You stayed up late when you shouldn't have, you fucked around, you eat like shit, every day you've got a new fucking bruise from hanging around your goddamn friends, who I never want in this house again, by the way. But because you made pace for the week you think you get to be cocky, and tell me how so-and-so is such dead-weight, and how all the coaches love you. They don't love you, they love the bits I pay them. And now it looks like you're the dead-weight, I wonder what your little teammates have to say about you now, huh?"

"I'll get back on top," Lightning insisted.

"No, you won't. Because this was it. Today was it. If you can't keep pace, then I'm not paying for anything anymore. You can get a job and earn the bits yourself, if you need this so bad. Now, you’re done. You hear me? Done. You’re not cut out for this, plain and simple. And your mother and I are done wasting all of this money and time and heartache on you and your fucking fantasies, just so you can feel like you're a big Luna-damn deal. You're not. For Celestia's sake, you’re old enough now to know all this.”

Lightning could not stop herself from breaking down into tears, while her father scoffed.

“Oh, for....Save it. That'll work on your mother, not on me. Tomorrow I’ll be writing to your cadet commander, and I'm telling them you’re off the team.”

“Dad!! Please! Please don’t!” Lightning begged, practically screamed, rushing towards him, “Please! I’m sorry! I won’t say anything bad about the other kids, I won't stay up late, I won't get hurt! And I won't let anypony beat me next time! Please give me another chance! Just one more race! Please!”

“I said, save it,” Hailstorm said, sternly, “You think that rainbow girl’s parents would allow mistakes like this to go unpunished?”

Lightning wiped her eyes, and stared up at him, and recalled the cheers, and the hugs, and the praise. And her heart hardened.

“They wouldn’t stop cheering her on,” Lightning said, gravely, “Even when she was in last place they were cheering for her, like she won the world title.” And she quickly came to regret having ever looked down on Rainbow, or any of the other slower ponies to begin with. I deserved to lose today. I've always been horrible to all of them. But I don't deserve this!

Stardust glanced at Hailstorm uneasily. Lightning narrowed her eyes, as her face turned red.

“And the one time I come in second, you give up on me! You-”

The words never left her mouth, when Hailstorm’s hooves came down towards Lightning’s neck.

Stardust was frozen for the first few seconds, while Hailstorm throttled Lightning, running her down against the front door. Her face turned bright red, and her eyes bulged at the sockets, as tears came jetting out.

“What’s the matter with you? What’s the matter with you?” he roared, strangling her with his own hooves.

“Hail, Hail! Stop!” Stardust wailed, struggling to pull Hailstorm off of Lightning.

Lightning trembled under his grasp, helpless as she felt the last bit of air slip out of her lungs. He smacked her across the face, hard enough she felt a tooth loosen. The second time, the tears were practically thrown out from her eyes, and the third, her cheek was smashed into pulp. A black ring was left around the corner of her eye, and blood had begun to leak out of her lip by the fifth blow.

He finally let go, dropping her to the ground. She frantically caught her breath, between her sobs, reaching for her throat, struggling to even look back up at her father.

“You can keep trying, keep pretending. You and I both know you’re not cut out for this. Do you hear me? You’re done,” Hailstorm said, between rasped breaths, “Don’t bring this up to me or your mother, ever again.”

Stardust hesitated to leave Lightning as she was, sobbing on the hardwood, though Hailstorm quickly had a hold of her, dragging her off to berate her as well. The door slammed behind them as they entered the home office.

Lightning cried out, hopeless, as she staggered up to her hooves, leaning against the door for support.

She pawed at the red marks left on her neck, which stung slightly from how tight her father’s grip had been. Hanging her head in defeat, she marched toward the stairs to clean herself up.

Up the stairs, and up and up until she was back flying through the sky, over the blue-grey billowing pillars of mist and kaleidoscopic dust. There, the head of the Great Mausoleum roused itself in the night, a storied titan in the sky, peering down on the kingdoms of Equestria below. And somewhere through the haze, by softer, pure-white pillows, virgin spectra came cascading down to the earth, shimmering red, orange, gold, green, blue, and violet. Stray particles of the substance trickled off into the air-current, baptizing the night in prismatic dust.

Lightning could hardly keep her eyes straight, as if the very sight of the city repulsed her.

Scootaloo, meanwhile, did not have to worry about what feelings the sight of the city might evoke, as she was far too short to see over the railing.

Kickstart recalled Cloudsdale, not only for the buried memories of a childhood forgotten, but primarily for having brought Lightning Dust into his life, and, by extension, a chance to remain hidden from a world who very much appeared to want him dead.

As they flew past the city limits and began drifting between the odd outskirt residence or storefront, it became clear that Cloudsdale had suffered a similar fate to Canterlot - ravaged to the bone by rioters and revolutionaries, leaving the streets barren and store windows boarded up with plywood.

“Buckle up,” Lightning said, not loud enough for either of her passengers to hear.

Lightning began descending toward a street below, scanning the area for any lurking patrols.

She glided down toward the ground, allowing the chariot to gently make contact with the cloud surface, before easing to a stop.

Kickstart might have appreciated the warning after all, having nearly fallen out of the chariot during touchdown.

Lightning quickly threw off her harness and ran back to the chariot, inspecting Kickstart and Scootaloo for injury.

“Help me hide this thing away. We’re gonna need it to get out of here fast,” Lightning said, grabbing a hold of the chariot.

“I thought you were supposed to be the fastest pony alive?” Kickstart reminded, grabbing the chariot by the other side.

“I am, when I don’t have to drag you two around with me. Speaking of which, Scootaloo - get out,” Lightning said.

“Sorry,” squeaked Scootaloo, before leaping out of the chariot. Lightning sighed. She shouldn't have snapped like that. She mussed up Scootaloo's mane and wiped at her eyes.

Lightning and Kickstart proceeded to push the chariot over to a nearby alleyway, obscuring it behind a shadowy dumpster.

“We’ve got to find Rainbow Dash,” Scootaloo said.

Lighting scowled, shutting her eyes for a moment before approaching the edge of the alley. Rainbow Dash. How many nights had she spent muttering that name under her breath?

“We have to finish our job here, before we can look for Rainbow Dash,” Lightning said, unable to even speak Rainbow’s name without a vicious cut.

“She’s a Wonderbolt, isn’t she?” Kickstart reminded, “We need her to get inside the Academy to find this Fire Streak guy.”

“No, we don’t,” Lightning corrected, “Look. Y’know what? Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”

“Is that a good idea?” Scootaloo asked, hesitantly.

“If you wanted good ideas, you shouldn’t have come along with me,” Lightning smiled, “C’mon.”

Scootaloo took a bite out of her hayburger, alongside Lightning and Kickstart, who sat beside her in the cloud carriage, munching in the dark.

Lightning had taken them first to an abandoned car rental near the city limits, jumpstarting one of the old gas-guzzlers that she had taken joy-rides on in high school.

Her first destination was Breezy’s Burgers, open until 3 A.M.

“Actually, this is pretty good,” Scootaloo said, with a mouthful of food. Kickstart seemed more skeptical, but after his first few bites, he quickly became a fan.

“I told ya,” Lightning said.

“...I don't like the way Sunset talks to you,” Scootaloo said.

Lightning glanced at Kickstart, who held his breath.

“Sunset’s hard around the edges," Lightning said, "But she’s saved my life more than once.”

“She really does have you wrapped around her hoof,” Kickstart laughed.

“Is it so bad that I want to believe she’s not as bad as everypony thinks?” Lightning said.

“You put up with her bullshit so much, and it makes you feel like-"

“Like what?” Lightning interjected.

“Miserable. All the time. You don’t think I notice?”

“Who isn’t miserable?” Lightning laughed, “Some ponies are just better at pretending than others.”

"You don't really believe that," Kickstart said, waving her off, "...What happened here?"

“What?”

“It’s this city. You can’t fucking stand it. I can tell," Kickstart said.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Lightning growled.

“Just trying to be pleasant,” Kickstart said, "I can't stand seeing you moping all the time, I'd thought I'd help."

“I never asked for your help,” Lightning said, before sighing and leaning back against the seat, “...I guess I thought running around with Sunset and Starlight would give me a chance to bury some stuff. Some stuff I’d be glad to forget. I mean...I used to be horrible. Really horrible, even when I was a kid. The second I step back here, it all comes back. Every stupid mistake. Every horrible thing I’ve done. This place brings out the worst in me. Every drill sergeant. Every manager. Spitfire. My dad. I guess it’s like…if I don’t think that Sunset can become a better pony, then there’s no hope for me either. And I don’t want to give up. I don’t have it in me to just give up.”

“We’d all want a do-over, if we could get one,” Kickstart reminded, “Don’t worry about Sunset. Worry about you.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Lightning said, before something caught her eye out the windshield.

“Hey….”

“What is it?” Kickstart asked, leaning forward.

Lightning grinned.

“I had a feeling things would work out.”

High Winds walked out of Breezy’s Burgers with two bags in her mouth, as she sauntered over to the take-off strip. It was a thirty minute flight home in the dead of night, after what had been another grueling day at the airbase.

“Still a double no-mayo?” came a voice from the dark.

High Winds froze in place, and her skin turned pale. She was caught in the parking lot right beneath a street lamp, beyond where the moon was stuck up in the sky.

“Dust,” she whispered, and her eyes began to widen.

Now, considering their last meeting, High Winds half-expected Lightning to be pursuing revenge of some kind, and was understandably anxious to call for help, or run away, or, at the very least, retaliate.

“Windy,” Lightning said, slowly, hoping to de-escalate.

“You knew I’d be here,” High Winds said, glancing at Scootaloo and Kickstart, who had revealed themselves in the dark, “And you brought friends.”

“Your famous Thursday night-out. How could I forget? Sorry to barge in unannounced, but…We need your help,” Lightning said.

High Winds meant to shout back, and refuse such a ludicrous proposal, before she recalled the last time she and Lightning had met, when she had turned her away and left her to probable peril.

“Last I saw you, I was gonna turn you in,” High Winds said, "I didn't, in the end. I'm glad you're OK."

“Yeah, back at ya,” Lightning said, grimly, “Look, I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t important. But my friends think they’ve got a lead that could help us beat Princess Twilight for good this time.”

High Winds stared at her, perplexed.

“Princess Twilight, of whom I am sworn to defend.”

“That’s the one,” Lightning grinned, “Look, we need to see Fire Streak at the Academy. He has information we need. The only problem is getting in.”

High Winds scoffed.

“And what? Am I supposed to play a role in this scheme of yours? Haven’t you got some murderous rampage to take part in?”

“Windy. I’m serious,” Lightning said, “If you do this, I promise I won’t ever bother you with anything again.”

High Winds glared at her.

“Is that what you think I want?” High Winds asked, “You may hate yourself, that doesn’t mean everypony else does, Dust. I do want you around, just…Not working for a gang of criminal terrorists. Is that so much to ask?”

“They’re the friends I chose, OK?”

“Like you’d know much about friends, right,” High Winds grinned.

“Last I checked, it wasn’t me who ditched her best friend. Or maybe I really don’t know much about friends.”

“What did you want me to do?” High Winds laughed, “I became a Wonderbolt. You didn’t. Sorry it shook out that way.”

“Yeah, you should be sorry,” Lightning said, “What have they done to you? You used to be nice.”

“Nice like you? You just want to use me, just like you always have,” High Winds spat.

“No, I-” Lightning said, before cutting herself short.

High Winds took a breath, and glanced at Scootaloo, and then again at Lightning.

“I screwed you over last time, and I regret it," High Winds said, "So I’ll do you one last favor, for old time’s sake. But after that, you and I are square, got it?”

Lightning sheepishly nodded her head.

“I’ll meet you here tomorrow morning, 9:00 a.m,” High Winds said, “Make sure you’re not followed.”

Lightning nodded again.

High Winds sighed and took flight, zipping off into the sky.

Kickstart approached Lightning, whose head was lowered, too ashamed to meet his gaze.

Moonlight had devoured the city.

Luna straightened her back, struggling to breathe. She slipped a glance over her shoulder.

“...What madness has overcome you, to be working alongside a creature so vile and void of honor?” Luna muttered, glancing back at the trio of creatures huddled together in fear.

Starlight glanced over at Discord, who was grinning ear to ear.

“I assume you mean Starlight. Well, I-”

“Be silent,” Luna barked, igniting her horn, glowing a brilliant cerulean.

Starlight jumped between them, her eyes opened wide, pleading for calmer heads to prevail.

Luna scoffed and dimmed her horn, still eyeing Discord down from across the roof.

“Luna….You know me. You know I’m a friend,” Starlight said.

Luna’s mouth was trembling, twitching, wavering back and forth. Her hardened glare broke then, and a new memory returned to her.

“Twilight Sparkle is a murderer,” Luna whispered, “...And here is her loyal pet. I will kill you first. Then this lecherous cretin beside you. And this wretched thing, this stranger, I will kill him third. Then I will find Twilight Sparkle. And I will take her head off her shoulders, feed it to the sun, and bury her corpse in the depths of the sea.”

“Twilight Sparkle is no friend of ours,” Starlight said, “We freed you from your prison. It’s a miracle you’re alive, Princess. You’ve been missing for over a year.”

Luna caught her breath, staring at Starlight in disbelief.

“A year?” Luna replied, dumbstruck. Madness. Madness. It couldn’t have possibly been that long.

“Luna….What do you remember?” Starlight asked.

Luna grimaced and reached for her forehead, pawing at the scars around her horn like a dog with fleas.

“A year,” Luna murmured, turning away from Starlight to face past the edge of the roof, “Days ago, they came to me. Ember. Posh Paramount, and the changeling king, Thorax. They told me of Celestia’s treachery. Her many dark deeds, and the great crime that has led us all to this hell. They were sure of it. They were convinced Twilight Sparkle would stop at nothing to protect Celestia, and in the process turn to madness - that she would rule as a tyrant, as a butcher, as a mad queen.”

Starlight glanced at Discord, while Luna began to quiver.

“I could not betray my sister,” Luna said, “How could they ask that of me? Yet I could not stand in their way, either. It took less than a week for me to regret it, when news reached this city of what Twilight had done. Squashed them all like ants. Who else could have done it? I knew then that they were right. Twilight had gone mad. She had become an enemy of Equestria. I meant to find her, to see the truth of the matter. To have justice. Then I was….I was somewhere else. Touch, taste, it had all gone cold. I was alone, buried. Bound and cut and quartered and sewed back together.”

Starlight hesitated, glancing over at Eight Ball, who was ghostly pale. Perhaps Celestia was strung up somewhere in a similar predicament, fodder for some twisted laboratory project.

“...Celestia…What had she done?” Starlight asked, refocusing her attention on Luna.

Luna shook her head, as if the mere attempt at recollection caused her great despair.

“I cannot recall much at all. There are only voices, faces obscured. Celestia had left me alone at the mansion for some time. Where has she gone?”

Starlight nodded, distraught to know Luna would be of little help after all.

Luna’s breathing began to change, fiercer and harder and burning with rage.

“Twilight Sparkle took action first, before I could confront her. She kept me underground, to be tortured and torn apart. This time I have no interest in the truth behind this treachery. She mocks the throne my sister once sat. I will be the one to take Twilight’s head, and restore justice to Equestria.”

Starlight glanced at Discord, who seemed giddy at Luna’s enthusiasm. Neither of them attempted to correct her on who was responsible for her imprisonment.

“If she was on her way to kill Twilight anyway,” Discord muttered, glancing at Eight Ball, “Why would you want to intervene?”

“Murdering Twilight wasn’t a viable solution to anything,” Eight Ball muttered, “We had to stop Luna from killing Twilight and starting a civil war, so we imprisoned her instead. What would you have done?”

"You'd be better off not knowing," Discord smirked.

Luna raised her gaze, and her breath drew heavy.

“You say you are not my enemy. But how can I believe such a thing?”

Starlight bit her lip.

“The time will come when I have to face Twilight,” Starlight said, “All of us, together, we may just have the power to stop her.”

Luna glared at Discord, bitterly accepting that he might be of some use.

“But Celestia is still out there, somewhere. We have to find her first, find out what she knows, make sure that she’s safe,” Starlight said.

Luna’s scowl hardened. Celestia was all she had left, all to keep her from the brink. She was not to remain a scornful second sister, no matter the urge to seek honor for herself, to redeem a lifetime in the shadow of the sun. She needed Celestia, despite how much she would prefer otherwise.

“Very well. Help me find my sister,” Luna said, approaching Starlight, “And together we will defeat Twilight Sparkle.”

Starlight nodded, sticking her hoof out. Celestia really was the cause of all this, as Twilight had told her, as Alias had suspected. Luna seemed to think Ember and her allies to be righteous, though Twilight had dismissed them all as vengeful opportunists. But Starlight could not make sense of one thing, remaining. To have murdered them all, would require a stronger rationale than selfless defense of Celestia’s legacy. Twilight may have done well to serve her own legacy, after all, make some concessions and retain her crown. Instead, Twilight opted for the most drastic route. Perhaps she really had gone mad. Or perhaps there was one last piece of information that she lacked.

Celestia would know, wherever she was.

Starlight glanced back at Luna, still extending her hoof out, hesitantly.

Luna smiled and shook, and a splash of red began to swirl behind her eyes.

Gutter-rail rain and the screeching of train tracks scrambled in tandem past the black-barred window. A cigarette appeared behind a rowdy red flame, before sauntering over to the pursed lips of a golden-orange unicorn mare, who wore a wavy mane of darker orange. She huffed on the cigarette, once, twice, three times, as her eyes glided over across the hotel room. And there, staring right back at her with wide eyes and a tilted head, was Starbuck. He blinked and turned his head to Trixie, who sat right beside him, smirking with a foolish kind of confidence.

“Simple game,” Trixie said, “Four players. Tech opens the pocket…”

Trixie glanced at the fourth pony in the room, sitting beside Amber at the table. He was Helix, a pale-yellow stallion with a spiky black mane, faded stubble and wild eyes, hidden behind a pair of sunglasses.

“Thief slips the wallet,” Trixie continued,

Amber, the unicorn mare, raised an eyebrow.

“Bank?”

“Prisoner extraction,” Trixie corrected.

Amber shook her head in confusion, leaning forward in her seat.

“Who? Where?”

“En route to the Ghostfort,” Trixie said, “High profile target. Royalty.”

Amber turned to Helix, whose mouth was hung agape.

They both glanced back to Trixie.

“Cadance?” Helix asked, dumbfounded.

Trixie was still smirking.

“The princess? The royal princess, like-” Helix continued, before trailing off in shock.

Amber raised her hoof.

“That’s a joke,” Amber laughed, glancing at Starbuck, “Right?”

“No joke,” Starbuck said.

“Is she alive?” Helix asked.

“As of this moment,” Trixie said.

“The ransom?” Helix continued.

Trixie glanced between them, and her smirk grew.

“More than you can dream about. Think about it. You’ll be national heroes. Drowning in gold,” Trixie said, “And Cadance will forever be in your debt.”

Helix took off his sunglasses, rubbing his eyes.

“I don’t know. I just don’t know,” Helix muttered.

Trixie glanced at Starbuck, shaking her head.

“Well this doesn’t sound like the Double Helix I had heard about,” Trixie laughed, “Top infiltration agent for six years. Reckless, efficient, never took a single target back alive. But after that incident in Maretonia, even the Erased didn’t want you. But I want you. This job, you don’t know what you’re missing. The Ghostfort is three walls deep, each four meters thick, seven meters tall. The ground outside is littered with landmines, except for the causeway, which is guarded by rifleponies. At least sixty ponies are on duty at all times. The security system is top grade, second only to Hellhatch.”

“You’re kidding yourselves,” Helix laughed, “Even with the Erased’s software, broad-access, SPU-7s, it can’t be-,”

“Amber can get whatever you need,” Trixie said, glancing over at the mare.

“It’ll take time,” Amber said.

“Time?” Trixie repeated, glancing at Starbuck, “That’s not what the Erased told me about you.”

Amber’s eyes widened, and she turned to Helix.

“Key Processors?” Helix asked.

Amber nodded.

“The new ones, the I-22s?” Helix asked, delighted.

Amber nodded.

“24 hours,” Amber confirmed.

“And I get to keep the equipment, when we’re done,” Helix added.

“Helix, I think you’re out of excuses,” Trixie said.

A knock at the door took them all by surprise.

Trixie rose to her hooves, and gestured for the others to remain as they were.

“He’s late.”

Trixie marched over to the door, and swung it open, revealing a brown stallion with a dark orange mane, a scratchy beard, and twitching yellow eyes.

The stallion’s face dropped the second his eyes landed on her.

Trixie had expected as much, dragging him inside and shutting the door behind him.

“You!” the stallion exclaimed, “Sunset Shimmer’s incorrigible lackey! I should’ve known this was some dreadful ruse!”

“And I thought I was dramatic,” Trixie said, rolling her eyes, before turning to the others, “This is Heartburn. He helped my friend once.”

“Doctor Heartburn, if you please,” Heartburn corrected, “What happened to you exactly? Sunset had enough of you?”

“Try the other way around,” Trixie corrected, “Come, sit down.”

Trixie pulled Heartburn along with her to the table.

“You never mentioned to us that you worked for the Erased,” Trixie said, glaring at him.

“It was a long time ago,” Heartburn said, “They found my methods to be a tad too…crude. Insufferable dolts.”

“What are you doing in Canterlot?” Trixie asked, suspicious. She recalled Rarity’s warning.

“Just passing through, as it were, until I got your message. The royals were pestering me for months after I helped you and your friends, I had to leave my home behind. Canterlot turned out to not be much better.”

“Heartburn, this is Amber, an ex-professional thief. And Helix, infiltrations," Trixie introduced.

“Helix,” Heartburn repeated, “As in, Double Helix?”

Helix nodded. Heartburn eyed him, and sat back in his chair. He hid his grin, and glanced back at Trixie.

“What a collection of heroes!” Heartburn declared, “Magnificent. Now is when you try to convince us why we should risk our lives for some buried treasure eh?”

“The profits come second,” Trixie said, “Our job is to rescue Princess Cadance, which means breaking into the Ghostfort.”

“Ah. Lovely,” Heartburn smiled, “And you’ve suckered in these two devils already? Is that right?”

Amber glared at him.

“I do the job, you get me a clean record,” Amber said, “Right?”

“That’s right,” Trixie nodded.

“And you, my friend?” Heartburn said, glancing at Helix.

Starbuck tensed up on the other side of the table. Something in the way he spoke had changed, and it set him alert.

“Same deal,” Helix smiled, “And a fifth of the profits. I’d be making a foolish mistake to pass up a deal like this.”

“Mm,” Heartburn grinned, “The greater mistake was taking the place of a dead pony.”

Helix’s eyes widened, and he was still frozen by the time Heartburn unsheathed the knife from his belt.

“Heartb-” Trixie exclaimed, while Heartburn sprang up from the table, slashing the knife across Helix’s shoulder. Helix cried out, collapsing backwards over his chair.

Amber jumped to her hooves and ignited her horn, aiming for Heartburn. But Starbuck stuck himself in front of her, where Trixie soon joined him.

"Are you insane?" Helix stammered.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Trixie yelled, grabbing the knife from Heartburn's hoof.

“Wait…” Starbuck said, slowly rising to his hooves.

Helix glanced to his right, where Starbuck was staring at him. It was only then that Trixie too noticed what Starbuck had seen - a trail of toxic green blood leaking out from the wound on Helix's shoulder. Helix's eyes darted toward Trixie, and his voice began to crack, and stutter, and shift into a more nasal, prehistoric screech.

And the yellow stallion began to convulse, and shudder, until a new shape revealed itself in a flash of green magic, the glimmering exoskeleton of Callidus, yellowish green with red horns and deep purple eyes.

"You must be brilliant, or mad," Callidus remarked, smirking at Heartburn.

"Neither. I have a good memory, is all. Double Helix was killed three months ago. This is better, isn't it? Face to authentic face?" Heartburn said.

"A changeling," Amber murmured, her eyes widening, "I don't like changelings."

"Then it will break my heart even less when I kill you," Callidus said, flashing his fangs. But before he could lunge out at anyone, Trixie's horn ignited.

"How'd you know where to find me?" Trixie demanded, "Who sent you?"

"Your old friend, of course," Callidus said, "Your feud with Twilight has gone on far too long, don't you think? I've come to bury the hatchet. In your skull. Then Princess Twilight might sleep a bit more soundly, with one less pest to deal with."

"That's not why you're doing this," Trixie guessed, "She murdered your king. Now you're working for her?"

"My loyalty is to the highest bidder," Callidus said, before lowering his guard.

"We can't let him go," Starbuck said, "Trixie, he'll tell Twilight."

"Good," Trixie said, defiantly, "I want her to know. I'm not afraid of her. She already took my best friend from me. You think my life matters more than that?"

"And what about our lives?" Amber reminded, skeptically.

"If we do this, you'll get everything I promised you and more. You'll never want for anything again. It's not you that Twilight wants dead, it's me," Trixie said, "Yeah, it's a bit of a risk. But you're all at rock bottom anyways. What have you got to lose?"

Amber frowned, but did not inch away.

"How exactly are we supposed to pull off this stunt without an infiltrator?" Amber stammered.

Trixie glanced at her, and back to Callidus, who had to laugh, eager to hear Trixie's attempt at a satisfying answer.

"We catch Cadance before they take her to the Ghostfort," Trixie said, "Which means we've got no time to waste...Starbuck. Get them out of here. "

"Right," Starbuck said, still amazed at the sight of the snarling changeling glaring at them all with his beady eyes. Starbuck led a frazzled Amber and a cackling Heartburn out toward the hotel door.

Trixie lingered for a moment, watching as Callidus reached to tend to his knife wound. Trixie still had her horn glowing, aimed right for his skull.

“You could end this here and now,” Callidus grinned, "Kill me and Twilight will never find out what you're planning. Let me live and I won't stop hunting you until you and all your little companions are dead."

Trixie gritted her teeth, and her horn glowed brighter. And she thought of Starlight then, of Sunset and Wallflower and Lightning and Suri, of Thorax and the few ponies in Ponyville she could call friends. All of them dead or gone. She wanted nothing more than to release, then, to fire with all her might and turn him to cinders. But her fury began to crumble away in an instant, and she felt like crying instead. She dimmed her horn, scowling all the while as Callidus' smile faded.

Trixie slung two of her duffel bags over her shoulder, and glanced down at him on her way out.

“I'd like to see you try."

On its surface, the Andromeda was an unassuming place, a blackened-brick remnant of Oldtown Canterlot. But as much as its physical roots ran deep into the city, as did its secondary function, serving as the foremost proprietor of criminal assembly in Canterlot.

Landing in the cobblestone puddles, the black-roof carriage was a gift of Speedy, who had timed their arrival precisely to coordinate with the changing of the Andromeda’s security detail.

Blondie stepped out of the parked carriage first. He adjusted the collar of his shirt, and the black bowtie that throttled him by the neck. His black tuxedo jacket fit well for an impromptu costume, as Speedy had enough resources to spare no expense. He was clean-shaven, and sported a shorter haircut as well.

Blondie helped Rainbow out next, trotting down the carriage steps beside him. Her trademark rainbow mane was of top concern, and, despite Rainbow’s pleas, Blondie had managed to convince her to go through with Speedy’s plan, dying it several shades of blonde. Her style had changed as well, to a tight-tousled, curlier do that rose up in the back.

Blondie glanced at her for reassurance. She was uncomfortable, both with the heels she was stuck in, and with the makeup stuck on her face.

Blondie gestured for her to follow after him.

He made small glances over his shoulder, making his best effort not to draw suspicion to himself.

They rounded about the alleyway adjacent to Andromeda’s, and continued on past the burning oil drums and decadent cardboard campsites.

And near the end of the alley, a door led somewhere into the rear of the building, and at the top of the door, a black slab of steel was fixed.

Blondie gritted his teeth and raised his hoof against the door.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Four knocks, wait two seconds before the last. That’s what Speedy had told him.

Without delay, the black slab of steel slid away from its slot, revealing a pair of eyes, glaring out into the alley.

“Speak,” came the pair of eyes, in a gravelly voice.

“Malus Mendax,” Blondie muttered.

Blondie waited in anticipation, until he heard a series of clicks and bends that sent the door flying open in front of them.

Together they filed inside the elevator compartment, right as the first few drops of rain began to sprinkle into the street. They stood beside the doorpony, a large grey stallion with a shaved head, clad in a three-piece suit and huffing on a cigar.

Blondie kept his composure, while Rainbow began to shift uneasily. Her dress was tight around the waist, and she felt a strange feeling of being trapped, as the elevator sunk deeper into the earth.

The elevator arrived at the underbelly of Andromeda’s, the lair of golden chandeliers, white tablecloth, dark brick and wooden stages.

The bar sat in the center of the room, below the greatest of the chandeliers. Round tables were each filled to the brim, sporting bottles of champagne and cognac, candles, and hosts of black suits, white dresses and furs, and cigarette smoke. Waitresses came strutting past in black bow-ties and little else, carrying trays of fresh appetizers and bottles of exotic spirits.

Blondie ushered Rainbow along, fearful that her state of shock would give themselves away.

The floor was packed with ponies, milling about in tight clusters, or else caught up in conversation. With a quick glance, Blondie could tell there were territorial lines already drawn between the different huddles.

The creatures themselves were a chaotic array of black suits, feathered-hats, deep satin gowns and pearl jewelry. Scouring the crowd, Blondie spied a dark red griffin in a suit, tie, and matching black hat, huffing at a cigar and laughing with a group of royal guardsponies. Nearby, there was a mare with a faint golden coat and a bouncy orange mane, bright like the sun. Her mane was half-hidden in a roaring flapper hat, and her navy-blue dress was practically welded to her coat, raised just half-an-inch off the floor. He saw bearded kirins smoking blueleaf from glass-cylinders, and a lanky, stubbly blonde pegasus groping his dance partner, right in sight of the light.

“Don’t stray too far,” Blondie said.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Rainbow cooed, holding onto his foreleg, “Don’t look so nervous. We’re supposed to be in character.”

“Right,” Blondie said, clearing his throat “We need drinks in our hooves.”

Together, they made their way to the bar, squeezing in between the crowd. The bartender was a sharp-dressed fellow, young and handsome.

“Scotch. Regal,” Blondie ordered.

“Make it two,” Rainbow added.

Blondie glanced at her. She shrugged, smiling in amusement.

“You’ve been staring longer than usual,” Rainbow muttered.

“You didn’t make it easy on me,” Blondie replied, before gesturing off into the crowd, “Or on anypony. Those gentlecolts over there haven’t looked away since we walked in.”

“I’d be insulted if they had,” Rainbow said, “You recognize anypony?”

“A few from Manehattan, I think,” Blondie said.

“Excuse me,” came another voice, from the other side of Blondie at the bar.

Blondie turned his head, and froze, catching the sight of the pony in question.

He was an unassuming stallion in a dark purple vest over a white shirt, all hidden underneath a black coat. The pony had a gaunt, clean-shaven face, pale-yellowish white in color. But what caught Blondie’s attention was the missing eye. There was no patch or bandage to hide the disfigurement, as if the stallion wore the brand proudly. A deep red hole sat where his eye ought to be, glaring at him all the same. The pony was staring intently at Blondie, who felt his shoulders tense.

“I couldn’t help but overhear,” the One-Eyed Pony explained, scooting closer on his stool.

Rainbow glanced around Blondie to get a better look at the pony.

“I haven’t seen you two here before. Come for the bid?” asked the One-Eyed Pony.

Blondie’s breath was staggered and jagged, as he choked up a response, having been caught off guard.

“What gave it away?” Blondie smiled, lifting his glass to his lips.

The One-Eyed Pony laughed.

“I'm here for the bid, as well. The ponies I work for, they consider it a top priority.”

“We have that in common” Blondie said, “My employer has been fixated over this thing, for years almost. He honored me with the task to retrieve it. My wife here was content to visit Canterlot, as well.”

“Windy Hothoof,” Rainbow introduced, extending her hoof toward the One-Eyed Pony.

The pony did not speak, opting instead to plant a kiss on Rainbow’s hoof.

“We should all be good friends. We’ve got worse competition to worry about, other than each other, you see,” the One-Eyed Pony smiled, “Look over there.”

Blondie and Rainbow followed the One-Eyed Pony’s hoof, pointing off to the darkest corner of the basement. There, stood a young changeling, dull turquoise with purple eyes and wings of bright amaranth. He was flanked on either side by royal changeling guards, all twice his size.

“That there, my friends, is Malthos, the pipsqueak prince of the changelings,” the One-Eyed Pony remarked, seemingly eager to share what knowledge he had thus far gathered, “Come to buy the case and make daddy happy.”

“Haven’t they got a war to be fighting?” Blondie asked.

“The case could turn the tide of that war, you see. Don’t worry much about Malthos. He’s not much for negotiations, I reckon. Seen him struggle to hold small talk with the bloody waitress. Imagine that. A future king, who can’t order his own lunch. You’d think he’d go and shapeshift into someone more competent,” the One-Eyed Pony said, laughing at his own joke, “Just thought I’d get the measure of you. You look like a pony I once knew, I reckon.”

Blondie eyed the stallion. Something about him seemed familiar, as well, though Blondie could not place it.

Blondie may have followed up on the remark, before another pony joined them by the bar - one who Blondie did recognize.

He was one of Crozer’s ponies, a high-ranking goon in the Black Hoof hierarchy. Hellcat, that was his name. A pink and black stallion with narrow eyes and a sharp jaw. They had never crossed paths before, however, and so Blondie had hope that as long as he kept his head down, he would avoid being recognized.

“Pardon the intrusion,” Hellcat said, eyeing Rainbow Dash with depraved intent. “A pair of new faces, hm? Are these friends of yours?”

“They are now,” the One-Eyed Pony confirmed.

Hellcat smiled, eyeing the two of them.

“And you are…”

“Lancer,” Blondie introduced, “This is my wife, Windy. I’m here on behalf of Val Indigo.”

“BioSynth? That’s extraordinary,” Hellcat exclaimed, “What are you doing here? You can’t be from Indigo’s Canterlot office, or I’d know who you are.”

“As it were, he trusted me alone, an old friend, to stake his bid. I intend not to let him down," Blondie explained, recalling the script Speedy had prepped him with.

“Ah. I should wish you success, then,” Hellcat said, though his suspicions seemed to remain, “Though I fear all of us will return with empty hooves, all of us except our royal guest.”

Blondie followed Hellcat’s gaze to where Malthos was.

“He may be pitiful, but his family’s fortune seems to have earned him a spot at the top of Menteuse’s list. He’s her favorite, they say,” Hellcat said.

“Where is Menteuse? I was hoping to introduce myself,” Blondie said.

“Nopony knows. She does have a habit of disappearing. I wish you luck, Mr. Lancer,” Hellcat said.

Blondie nodded, and glanced over at Rainbow, whose eyes were pointed toward Malthos.

“Please, both of you, come have a drink with me,” Rainbow offered, leading both the One-Eyed Pony and Hellcat over back to the bar. Neither could refuse such a request, leaving Blondie an opportunity to slip away.

Blondie gradually made his way through the crowd. He could feel the lingering pairs of eyes. They could see right through him, it felt. Why had they not struck yet? What were they waiting for?

Malthos stood surrounded by six of his changeling guards, armed to the teeth with axes, swords, and spears. Each had an untamed look about them, like the mildest threat may set them off into a frenzy.

“Excuse me, your highness,” Blondie said, standing idle just outside the perimeter of guards.

Malthos, who had been busy scolding one of his guards, took notice of Blondie, and straightened his back, rolling his shoulders back and tightening his jaw.

“What is it?” Malthos replied.

“Forgive me, we haven’t met before. I’m Lancer, an old friend of Menteuse.”

“Is that so?” Malthos chuckled, “I didn’t know Menteuse had friends.”

“I decided to pay her a visit, but I felt compelled to stop and introduce myself. She’s spoken so highly of you, after all.”

Malthos’ ears perked up.

“Er, w-what?” he coughed, “She…Sh-She has?”

“Certainly,” Blondie said, glancing over his shoulder to see if Rainbow had gotten into any trouble. She was busy chatting up the two stallions, much to Blondie’s relief, “In fact, she almost made it sound like this entire bidding war was just a cover so she could earn your friendship.”

“I-I,” Malthos said, turning bright red.

“I could always help things along, you know, if you’re too busy. I would be glad to do my part, on account of the good work your father is doing.”

Malthos thought of his father, and then of Silver Stream, his soon-to-be betrothed. Could he betray her? Then again, he had yet to swear any vows.

“I would be grateful for your help,” Malthos grinned, “I-I always knew she felt this way. She’s hopelessly desperate. I will leave her well-satisfied, I assure you.”

Blondie glared at him in disgust, nearly losing his composure.

“Of course. I wonder where I might find her?”

“I know the place,” Malthos said, eagerly, “I can take you there.”

Blondie nodded his head.

Malthos frantically shoved his guards out of the way, before waving Blondie along to follow him.

By the bar, Rainbow smiled, triumphantly, and perked up once again to keep Hellcat’s attention.

The One-Eyed Pony had already noticed Blondie speaking with Malthos, and again when the two of them disappeared. He said nothing of it, however.

Malthos brought Blondie alone with him, weaving his way through a passage leading deeper into the underground lair.

They wound through dimly lit corridors, until coming to a locked door that resembled a cabinet.

“Through here,” Malthos said, twisting the handle around three times, before swinging it open.

To Blondie’s surprise, the door led through the wall, into a garden courtyard blooming in the virgin nightfall.

“Tell her to find me in my room at 9 o’clock,” Malthos grinned.

Blondie glanced at him and nodded, and waited for the changeling to scurry away, mumbling to himself all of his plans for the night.

Blondie’s eyes turned back to the cabinet-door, and he stepped through it, slowly, before landing on the other side. A stone path, leading to the center-fountain, surrounded by a lush bounty of fruit trees, riverbeds, and prickly bushes.

But he did not notice the night’s breeze, or the cold touch of the stone, or the sound of the trees rustling like crashing waves.

She appeared different than he had remembered her.

Without the blood, bruises, and dirt that had once scored her head-to-hoof, Brandy Bow was a convincingly spry young thing, her wavy chestnut mane shining in the blue moonlight, soft like silk. Her cream-colored coat was prim and neat, concealed behind a billowy deep purple dress and a black coat.

He first found her facing away from him, sitting on one of the benches by the fountain. She seemed to have expected somepony else at first, sparing a quick glance, before her skin turned pale.

She staggered to her hooves, shaky and unbalanced like a newborn fawn.

“I hadn’t thought you’d be long,” Brandy said.

Blondie approached her, glancing up at the sky above them.

“Menteuse. On the nose, don’t you think?” Blondie grimaced.

“I had a feeling you’d like it,” Brandy giggled, spinning her hoof through her mane. She grabbed at her glass of rum, gulping it down like water from a desert oasis.

“Would you believe I hate the taste of brandy? Talk about failing parental expectations,” Brandy smiled, “Where are your little friends? The Wonderbolt and the Giant?”

“Close by,” Blondie said, “I was hoping to talk some sense into you, before things get ugly.”

“Things got ugly when you tried to take me back to Crozer,” Brandy said, laughing off his attempt at intimidation, “Now the Black Hoof's playing by my rules. And you are too. I suppose I owe you a bit of thanks, killing Crozer and Trench. I had wanted to do them both in myself, but, oh well.”

“Ponies are willing to die over that briefcase,” Blondie reminded, “You’re putting yourself at the center of everything. It won’t end well.”

“Somepony has to sell the fucking thing” Brandy laughed, “...Nopony’s suffered more on its account than me, if you care to remember. I spent half-a-year trapped in Trench’s dungeon. They were killing me as slowly as they could, and all the while the rest of you sat around and watched. All of you are only out fighting for yourselves."

“I fought for you didn't I?" Blondie asked.

"Why did you?" Brandy asked, "Why do you care about me?"

"Because nopony else seems to," Blondie said.

There were tears in Brandy's eyes, but she did not reach to wipe them.

“...It's six million bits, if Malthos wants the case," Brandy said. She had to speak quickly before she'd end up crying, "His pockets run the deepest, and he’s desperate, desperate like a stray dog. He would beg for it if I asked. And who am I to deny him?”

“That briefcase can't end up in the wrong hooves,” Blondie said, "I know you think this is the only way to get out, and maybe it is, but it's not worth the cost. Listen to me."

“No, you listen. I’m not letting ponies like get away with it running my life for me anymore. You, Salt, Hellcat, you’re all gonna learn what it feels like to be on the other side. To be fearing for your life.”

As if to punctuate her sentence, a new bout of commotion from inside put Blondie back on alert.

He glanced back to Brandy, who still had a grin on her face.

Blondie’s eyes darted back and forth, while Brandy finished the rest of her rum.

“Come with me,” Blondie said.

Brandy smiled.

“Come and get me.”

Blondie took a deep inhale, and stormed off toward her.

He reached straight for her neck, though Brandy was quicker, darting lower to the ground and swinging her legs against his. He caught himself before he could fall flat on his face, though he could not defend himself when Brandy smashed her empty glass over his head.

Blondie slipped on the ground, and spun his head around in time to catch Brandy ditching her heels and sprinting out through the cabinet-door.

Blondie grunted some curses under his breath and darted off after her.

Inside the speakeasy, Rainbow and the One-Eyed Pony were following Hellcat to the source of the commotion. The crowd had centered in on something near the band’s stage.

Rainbow recoiled in horror, when she caught sight of the pony lying in a heap at the center of the crowd.

Salt Shaker’s face was blackened and bruised, and his silver-white beard was stained red from some cut near his neck.

Rainbow could hardly hear what the ponies in the middle were saying, before having to shove through to reach closer.

Her heart sank at the sight. Salt was surrounded by the tips of guns and knives, all directed right at his neck.

Hellcat approached the giant head-on, disgusted with the grizzly sight.

“Well. We figured you’d show up here, Old Salt,” Hellcat grinned, “We saw what you did to poor Mr. Granger, figured you’d skip town and follow the case here. The master plan. I gotta say, it doesn’t look like it’s going well so far.”

The crowd erupted in laughter, while Salt maintained his composure. A bottle had been broken over his head, and small shards of glass were still stuck in his mane.

“He’s your friend, no?”

Rainbow was caught by surprise, when the One-Eyed Pony appeared beside her. Rainbow glanced at him, unsure how to answer.

“Yeah, thought so,” the One-Eyed Pony muttered.

“Kitty” Salt said, “What happened to Manehattan hospitality?”

“You’re not in Manehattan,” Hellcat reminded.

“I was hoping it’d be you, actually. I came to make a deal,” Salt declared, smiling. He was in disbelief; he still had the nerve to keep on talking, even with the clutter of knives and pistols stuck at his neck.

“A deal! You’re too late,” Hellcat bellowed, “I looked up to you once. Uh, ah, figuratively, as well. The brawn and the brains. Guess I was only half-right.”

“I had planned to bring the briefcase back to you and the rest of the Black Hoof, to split the prize,” Salt said, “We don’t need to be working against each other.”

“We're not having any of it. You’ve gone rogue, Salt, admit it. If it wasn't for you, the Boss would still be alive! The others want to see you themselves, before we gut you and hang you off the Arbory Dock,” Hellcat laughed, “And as for you, my dear…”

Hellcat turned to Rainbow, who could feel her face turn pale.

“Ms. Wonderbolt, I should remind you that we’ve got your friends - strung up waiting to have their throats cut. Addresses. Places of work. Passports.”

Rainbow’s jaw dropped, trembling in place. Two of more Black Hoof goons were already behind her, ready for any sudden moves.

“Which leaves us with that blonde rat bastard friend of yours. He can’t be far, can he?”

Salt hesitated, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. He had already spotted Blondie and Rainbow in the crowd, and made his best effort to avoid drawing attention to them.

“We altered the deal, it’s true,” Salt said, “But we also went out of our way to take out Trench, your enemy, and send the Underground scattering. You owe her and her friends their lives, at least.”

Hellcat glanced at the ground, seemingly uncertain.

He began to laugh, along with the rest of his companions.

"Your friend killed the boss," Hellcat said, "He may have been rough on us, but he was the boss. There aren't gonna be no deals, Salt. There's just gonna be three corpses we gotta find a place to bury."

The first crack of a gunshot sent the crowd ducking down to the ground. Soon the speakeasy was a parade of smoke and knives, while ponies began screaming at the top of their lungs.

It was the One-Eyed Pony who had fired the first shot, straight into Hellcat’s shoulder. Another of the Black Hoof goons took a bullet to the spine, sending him twisting around into a table.

Now of the various collections of criminals, the first shots effectively raised a green flag for whichever rivals to reduce their competition. And what had begun as a squabble with the Black Hoof soon escalated to a wide-spanning affair, with creatures of all kinds rushing to bash in the brains of their adversaries.

Rainbow shoved through the crowd to reach Salt Shaker, who was still struggling to stand up to his hooves.

She had him by the hoof when another pony came tugging on her shoulder.

She turned to find the One-Eyed Pony.

“I know a way out,” he said.

But Rainbow’s eyes were fixed elsewhere - across the room, where Malthos remained, trembling behind his guards, standing in a puddle of his own making. Violence terrified him, after all.

Rainbow smiled to herself, and glanced back to the One-Eyed Pony, who was fending off some Black Hoof soldiers.

“I’ll be right back.”

Brandy sprang over the railing of the fire escape, out from the bottom-floor emergency exit of the Andromeda. The fire escape crept up two stories back to the ground level, and Brandy moved with remarkable agility, swinging up and over each railing, tearing the fabric of her dress at the waist.

Blondie was not far behind her, struggling in his stuffy tux, drawing his knife from his beltbound sheath.

Her laughter gave him the rage needed to push the extra limit, climbing up with beastlike intensity.

He was able to reach for her ankle right before she could reach the ground level, dragging her back down toward them. He slipped on his own foothold in the process, however, tumbling off the rail and catching himself on the next platform. Brandy lay on the same platform, picking herself off her chest.

Blondie pulled himself up, only to be met by a hoof straight to the nose. He could hear the snap, and felt the wash of blood drain out over his mouth. He swung madly with the blade, though each time Brandy was able to dodge it, teetering backwards with precise poise.

She spun around on the side rail, spinning her legs in an attempt to land another kick. But Blondie saw it coming this time, grabbing her hind right leg forcefully and pulling her toward them. Slipping off the wet rail, her head fell against the metal, and her strength seemed to wither at last.

Blondie was on top of her in an instant, raising the knife right against her neck. Brandy froze, refraining from any quick movements.

The sweat and the rain left both of them drenched, as Blondie held the knife there, dangling against her neck, as she flailed beneath his weight.

“Where’s the case?” Blondie asked.

“Stop!” Brandy screeched, as the knife pressed closer to her throat.

“Blondie!” Brandy squealed, while he stared down at her with trembling hooves.

“Blondie!”

It was not Brandy who had called out to him, but rather Rainbow Dash, who was flying up the fire escape, screaming out into the downpour just to be heard.

Blondie broke from his trance, and glanced down at where Rainbow’s voice had come.

But Brandy took advantage of his hesitation, kicking up at his chest, sending him toppling off of her, over to the edge of the fire escape. He gasped for breath, still clutching his knife.

Brandy too was out of breath, and there remained a small cut on her neck from where his knife had reached her.

“I thought maybe you were the first pony in my life who didn’t just want to use me for something,” Brandy said, brushing her soaked mane away from her eyes, “But you’re just like everypony else!”

Brandy jumped up to the last platform, and then to the ground level edge, where she promptly took flight.

Blondie glanced up to find her as a speck in the sky, when Rainbow Dash arrived beside him.

“No dice?” Rainbow asked.

Blondie, who was still out of breath, could only shake his head.

“You?” Blondie asked.

Rainbow grinned, and glanced down at the fire escape stairwell, where Salt Shaker had emerged. He had not come alone, however. In his hoof, he dragged the neck of Prince Malthos, who already fainted out of fright.

Blondie was in disbelief, laughing for a brief moment before allowing Rainbow to help him to his hooves.

“You’re alright?” Rainbow asked, hesitantly. Blondie nodded, though Rainbow remained concerned.

During the daytime, the parking lot at Breezy’s was a livelier place, where families came strolling with carriages of foals and trays of breakfast coffees.

Lightning tapped her hoof on the steering wheel, and checked her rearview mirror. She saw Kickstart wincing, clawing at his skull.

“Are you alright?” Lightning asked.

“No, he’s not. It’s the-” Scootaloo began, before Kickstart stuck his hoof over her mouth.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered.

"What's going on?" Lightning asked.

"The other day he burned a hole in the wall at Mandola's. That's why he got sent out on that errand," Scootaloo said.

"Burned a hole?" Lightning repeated.

"I couldn't control it," Kickstart said, blinking over and over again. Lightning recalled the last time she saw those eyes at work, sawing through ponies' flesh like a knife through butter.

"He's sick," Scootaloo insisted, "He needs a doctor."

"You should've told Moon Dancer," Lightning said, "Or somepony. Why'd you lie?"

"Because I'm so good at it," Kickstart joked, wincing again as his head began pounding.

The passenger door came swinging open, catching Lightning by surprise.

High Winds jumped inside, clad in her Wonderbolt suit.

“Blue looks good on you,” Lightning admitted.

“Thanks,” High Winds said, “You still know the way?”

Lightning glared at her. She recalled every day she spent flying to that Wonderbolt track early in the morning, and all the hours she’d spent, all the hours she’d waste.

“Yeah.”

The Wonderbolt Academy had grown in size since the last time Lightning had laid eyes on it; its columns seemed thicker, its wispy winding runways seemed sharper.

“Park near the back,” High Winds advised, “Now hold on a second.”

Lightning parked the car as instructed, near a pair of dumpsters. The inlet was desolate, while most of the Wonderbolt racers and staff were running drills on the front track.

“Listen to me, Dust,” High Winds said, turning toward her, “If you get caught, I’m not going down with you. We haven't spoken or seen each other in months. Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it,” Lightning said, glancing at the ground.

High Winds sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Lightning lifted her gaze. “What?”

“I’m sorry that I ditched you when I joined the Wonderbolts. That was a sucky thing to do, I just…Got so caught up in everything here, I just....screwed up.”

Lightning took a breath and wiped at her eyes.

"You were the only pony who'd let me sleep over when I needed to get out of the house, when I needed to get away from him," Lightning said, "You were the only pony who believed I could do the things I wanted to do, after I failed and failed and failed...I don't blame you for what you did. I gave up on myself a while before you did."

"I haven't given up on you," High Winds said, frustrated, "That's not something I'm ever going to do."

"....I'm sorry for doing this," Lightning said, "I shouldn't be asking this of you."

High Winds smiled.

“What are friends for?”

High Winds slid her security card through the door slot, and the light promptly buzzed green.

“Is it a good idea to bring the kid?” High Winds asked.

“She’s more help than harm,” Kickstart said, “Most of the time.”

“If you say so,” High Winds grunted, “Stay close. Keep your heads down. Fire Streak’s office isn’t far.”

High Winds opened the door, and ushered in Lightning, Kickstart, and Scootaloo inside. She glanced around the lot one last time, and shut the door behind her.

The halls of the Academy were empty, to Lightning’s relief.

“It’s 9:30 reverie,” High Winds reminded, “You didn’t think I’d throw you in coffin corner, did you?”

“Will he still be there?” Lightning asked.

“I’ve never seen him leave his office,” High Winds said, “I’ve never seen him do his job, either.”

“Up to no good, no doubt,” Scootaloo believed.

Kickstart began to slow down, to Lightning’s concern.

“Hey, you with me?” Lightning asked.

“Yeah,” Kickstart muttered.

“This is it,” High Winds said, stopping before a moon-silver door.

High Winds led them to the door, and hung back by the wall.

“I’ll find Spitfire and keep her away from here. You know the way out, right?” High Winds asked.

“Yeah,” Lightning said, “Thanks, Windy.”

High Winds wrapped her forelegs around Lightning, who reciprocated.

“You just can't stay out of trouble,” High Winds smiled, “That’s what I always loved about you.”

High Winds took off down the hall, leaving the three ponies by the door.

“He might be hostile,” Lightning reminded, “He may resist.”

“He’s welcome to try,” Kickstart smirked. Scootaloo bit her lip, nervously.

He wrapped his hoof around the handle and threw it open.

The office was furnished with deep red carpets, fitted with wooden furniture and bookcases that reached the ceiling. The desk at the center bore a mahogany finish, covered in consoles and computers and scattered documents. And sitting there, behind that desk, was the pony himself, who had to be Fire Streak. He had a slight hunch, and a receding mane of burnt orange and grey. His coat was off-white, and his snout was currently buried in a book. He wore a pair of glasses, a black suit and red tie.

“Excuse you,” he muttered, and had not even lifted his gaze from his book, “Does the Academy no longer teach manners?”

“I wouldn’t know, they threw me out,” Lightning replied.

Kickstart and Scootaloo walked in behind her, and shut the door.

Fire Streak glanced up at her, and set his book down. He eyed the three of them, and raised an eyebrow.

"...And you are?" he said.

“Somepony who needs something from you,” Lightning said, keeping a close eye on him, expecting some kind of trick.

Scootaloo held her post by the door, practically jumping up and down to see out the window, while Lightning and Kickstart kept Fire Streak cornered.

“You're welcome to make an appointment then," Fire Streak smiled, "I don't take walk-ins."

"You do today," Lightning replied, "We're here about the project."

Fire Streak eyed her, and his confusion seemed to deepen.

"Ponies with your reputation would be better off not sticking their noses where they don't belong," Fire Streak said, "Though I suppose when you have nothing to your name, you've got nothing to lose."

"You know who we are," Kickstart guessed.

"Regrettably," Fire Streak snarled, "A persistent nest of pests. Crawled out from the sewers, a collection of mistakes."

"Y'know, we've been needing a team name. Those are all solid options," Kickstart said. Scootaloo noticed the twitch in Kickstart's jaw, and glanced at Lightning, hesitantly.

“The project. What is it?” Lightning demanded.

Fire Streak smiled.

“You are far in over you head. That's why your friend from the Underground lost his life, mind you. Myself and the ponies I work alongside, we dreaded your involvement, considering your, er, reputation. We had thought killing your Underground friends would instill some sense in you. I see you put little value on your own lives."

"You're gonna get a taste of what we're made of, soon, if you don't start talking," Lightning said.

Fire Streak scoffed.

"You and your band of fugitives are hardly a threat. More like, a guaranteed risk of catastrophe galore. The second you leave here, you will be hunted down and killed, now that you know we exist. We’ve kept tabs on you all, in case of some unexpected act of courage. With the press of a button, I could have your friends killed, right this moment.”

"Nice fucking try. You're bluffing," Kickstart laughed.

“I know all about you," Fire Streak said, shaking his head, "How you sent the earth pony into the Grand Galloping Gala, how you recruited Twilight Sparkle’s old friend Moon Dancer…How you took refuge from the riots at some gorge on the other side of the mountain.”

“OK, fuck me, he’s not bluffing,” Kickstart whispered to Lightning.

“What’s stopping you, then?” Lightning asked, nervously.

Fire Streak smiled.

“Something about your tenacity has touched me. No matter how often the world steps on you, you all seem to spring back up. I'm beginning to feel as though you would make better assets for me, than collateral waste.”

“What are you saying?” Lightning stammered.

“I won’t say anything,” Fire Streak said, raising his hooves in the air, “You’ll need to speak with my superiors to make a proper deal. We'll tell you what you want to know, in exchange for something from you. And you would be wise to follow through, otherwise we’ll have to kill you all, which would simply break my heart. What a waste that would be.”

Lightning winced.

“Where? When?” she spat.

“The Red Roan Hotel. 52nd Floor. Suite C. Saturday, midnight. No more than three of you may arrive, and Sunset Shimmer must be one of them,” Fire Streak said.

Kickstart was fuming, while Lightning struggled to think.

“The girl stays with me. As insurance there won’t be any tricks,” Fire Streak said, pointing at Scootaloo.

“What?” Lightning exclaimed.

“You must understand. I don’t want to be taking any chances,” Fire Streak said, plainly.

“Lightning?” Scootaloo squeaked, backing towards the door.

Kickstart remained in front of her, glaring at Fire Streak with eyes that trembled.

His eyes began to burn, bright like torches. And his chest glowed red like a furnace, while his bones rattled and his breath became rasped.

“Kicks?” Lightning muttered, glancing over at him.

Lightning grabbed him by the ankle, right as the glowing aura escaped through his chest, encompassing his body, and Lightning’s as well, through her grip on his foreleg.

Lightning shrieked, as she felt the magic consume her, and before she could release her grip, they disappeared in a flash of light.

Fire Streak shielded his eyes, while Scootaloo stared at the ashy spot on the ground in shock.

“Are th-they-” Scootaloo sputtered, "No, No! Come back!"

Fire Streak was speechless. A pegasus who could teleport. He grabbed a hoofful of his mane, overcome by the sight. He was sure of it now. These ponies would make a remarkable investment.

The invitation seemed innocent enough, but every time Rarity thought about it her gut tightened into a knot. She was to have left already, done as Trixie insisted. Return to Ponyville. Return to Sweetie Belle. Be free of it all, safe from harm. But here she remained, prancing up those marble steps, ignoring the distant whispers and echoing drops of water.

It could be curiosity, she supposed; perhaps Twilight wanted to get the measure of her, to determine the plausibility of her treachery. Does Twilight resent me, she wondered. Does she think I wish her harm?

Perhaps she was doing Twilight an injustice. Perhaps the invitation was no more than a simple kindness, a meeting between old friends. But this was the royal palace, this was Canterlot, and this was the court of Princess Twilight Sparkle. And if there was one thing Rarity had learned here, it was mistrust.

She found Twilight there in her throne. Darker, but darker still had the halls of the castle become. The chandeliers were dimmed low, and Twilight appeared only a bloody red half of a silhouette, her eyes cast down into the shadow. By the doors, Grey Wick and Venger remained in their golden armor, watching Rarity progress down the crimson carpet.

“Twilight, I came as quickly as I could, what’s happened?” Rarity wondered, approaching Twilight with a gentle smile.

“Trixie Lulamoon has been found,” Twilight said, “Roaming the shadows with a pack of thieves and criminals at her side.”

“A dreadful thing. What is to be done about it?” Rarity said.

Twilight eyed her. Rarity was alarmed. There was a fire behind those eyes, red hot, weakened but vengeful.

“First she must be found,” Twilight said, “Callidus is already on her trail. He knows precisely where she means to go.”

Rarity’s ears perked up. Grey Wick and Venger had made themselves known, approaching her on either side.

“I’m disappointed in you, Rarity,” Twilight said, softly.

Rarity glanced over her shoulder, and she felt her nerves get the better of her.

“What are you doing?” Rarity stammered, “Twilight….What are you doing?”

“I told Marius that Cadance was being taken to Mercy Hill. I told Featherglass she was being taken to the Shimmering Spires. I told nopony the truth, that she was being taken to the Ghostfort. No one except you.”

Venger had her hoof on Rarity’s shoulder, who was too stunned to try resisting.

“Twilight….Don’t.”

Twilight’s eyes fell to the ground, as she struggled to look on at the sight.

“I should have known better, by now.”

“Twilight!” Rarity screamed.

Grey Wick had a hold of her as well, and the two guards began dragging Rarity out of the room.

Rarity’s screams left Twilight with a panicky tremble, as her hooves began to shake and she rose to her hooves, gasping for breath.

She wiped her eyes and crashed back down to the throne, too weak to free herself from its grasp.

Author's Note

Thanks for reading!! Next chapter is going to include some dragon stuff finally, and Silver Stream's return.

Hope you liked this one, & thank you again for reading, feedback is always welcomed! <3

06: The Dragon Queen

Blood and dust swept up against weathered stone and red-hot steel, where the howling and barking and bleating funneled into a muddled shriek, whimpering across the walls.

The weaving caves and tunnels were the work of the Velvet Regiment, holding out in the hills above the Badlands for week after week, starved and anxious for sunlight. First, the rats went, then the boots, then the dogs and cats. But despair crept ever closer, even when the first few deserters returned to their posts in separate pieces, a message from the enemy that watched them from beyond the ridge.

Periwinkle Radiance was too weak to budge in her chains, strung up by her hooves like a marionette, dangling from the ceiling of the cave. The dragons had pursued her regiment deep into the hills, starving them out until their defenses crumbled completely. Hundreds, maybe thousands of them came, clawing and crawling, all desperate for a taste of their prey. They breached first through the north entry, and swarmed through the tunnels, ripping apart each and every pony they encountered. They bit and slashed and tore, and laughed and jeered, toying with their emaciated victims, tearing them limb from limb one at a time.

Periwinkle herself was missing her hind leg, which had been twisted and ripped off by some young dragon’s sharp-toothed jaw. It was a bloody, screaming affair, though in the hours since, Periwinkle no longer had the strength to make much of a fuss. Her deep blue locks were matted with blood, as was her snow-white coat. There remained a gaping wound below her knee, now a dripping stump. The dragons had kept her alive for hours now, not before taking care to hold her down and saw off her horn. Grinding metal spikes coughed up dust as they cut through the marrow, until at last they severed all the way through. Her head was pounding as a result, as the magic inside her fizzled and twitched, abandoned without any outlet for release.

For hours now, the dragons kept her there, occasionally slashing off pieces of meat to chew on, all while she was cursed to watch on as more and more of her comrades were slaughtered right in front of her. Each time they were crying out her name, begging for her to save them somehow. But all she could do was watch on in silence, helpless as her captors laughed and laughed. The room she was in reeked of gore, and the smell had already made her vomit, soiling her white coat.

And when the distant, echoing screams seemed to finally give out, Periwinkle’s ears picked up on a new sound. The dragons’ laughter subsided. The cave itself seemed to hold its tongue; no more drops of water fell from the ceiling, and the low mutter of the wind outside drew still.

She managed to open her eyes, but could not bear to glance down at her deformed body. She could feel how pale she was, how weak she was, as the blood continued to drain out of her.

And a new shadow arrived in the corners of her eyes, lurching out from another tunnel, sending the dragons scurrying to the corners of the cave, meekly hiding their eyes.

She was a dragon, tall and athletic in build, pale purple with an off-white underbelly. She wore a crown of four white horns, two by her ears and two higher up, sprouting from the tops of her skull. And her eyes were deep red, ruby red, endless bloody voids. She stood upright and proud, with a series of blood-red diadems hanging off her neck. The armor she wore was minimal, flexible, but sturdy, complete with black steel and spikes by her shoulders, and more red-gem fixtures.

Periwinkle recognized the dragoness and her haunting gaze, and made her best effort to keep her head up. This was the dragon empress, Cinder, the one Twilight Sparkle had warned her of.

Cinder seemed delighted by Periwinkle’s attempt at straightening up, and tilted her head back, approaching Periwinkle with a raised claw.

“What a pretty face,” she purred, “I wish I’d known beforehand. I could’ve made good use of you.”

“Equestria won’t forget this,” Periwinkle coughed, narrowing her eyes.

“I hope not,” the dragoness said, “...We’re following the last of your stragglers over to High Water. Four of your friends confirmed that as the rendezvous, before we put them out of their misery. So be smart and don’t make up a new story.”

Periwinkle gritted her teeth, hanging her head in defeat.

“Don’t look so glum,” Cinder smiled, “Take comfort in knowing all of Equestria shares your fate. Your princess has made it so. Soon enough she'll see the change in the winds, and come out and face us. She may take as long as she likes. Judgment will come for all.”

Cinder climbed up a short rise to a hole in the cave wall, and could make out the northbound road in the distance, stretching off into the setting sun. Canterlot lay at the end of that road, somewhere. Each day she drew a few steps closer.

Cinder turned away from the view and crept back down into the cave. She left Periwinkle with a parting glance. The dragons, meanwhile, began to creep closer, waiting for Cinder to disappear down another tunnel.

“Leave her face. Such a pretty face.”

Periwinkle’s eyes widened, as Cinder's grinning shadow slithered off into the darkness.

And the dragons around her began to drool and laugh and grin, the twelve of them all descending upon her. Periwinkle screamed, as the chains came loose.

Cinder, meanwhile, shut her eyes for a moment to the sound of Periwinkle’s screams, and smiled to herself.

Soon all of Equestria would share this fate, she thought to herself. And her smile grew just a bit wider.

A torrent roar set the air ablaze, shaking the earth and shattering the sky, there in that havoc on the hill.

A burst of blue light stood at the center of the tempest, and from it came a pony, rough-tumbling out like a beastly birth. And behind him came a companion, screaming all the while, clawing for a hold of something in the ether. And soon she found refuge from the spiral, upon landing in the grass with a bone-rattling smack.

Gasping for breath, Lightning Dust lifted her head from the dirt, in time to see the blue vortex above dissipate into dust, shrinking and crumbling right before her eyes, until nothing remained.

Kickstart lay beside her, frantically grabbing at his chest with trembling hooves, heaving and coughing and crawling away from where he had fallen.

Lightning stretched her jaw and shook off the specks of ice that had grown on her coat. She could do little to ease her headache, however, that pounded so hard she thought her skull might be lying on the brink of implosion.

“Hey,” Lightning managed, weakly pulling herself across the grass toward him. She knew better than to try and stand, while her skin was ghostly pale and her stomach was tied in knots.

Kickstart jumped at Lightning’s touch, springing back to the grass like a cornered animal.

“Kicks,” Lightning said, hesitantly. Her voice began to quiver, and she reeled her hoof back, having noticed the streaks of ash on his chest and the blistering red veins that poked out from beneath his skin.

Lightning allowed him some time to catch his breath, and lifted her gaze to the sky. There was Cloudsdale, a hazy silhouette, floating by in the current.

“Scootaloo!” Lightning said under her breath, as her eyes widened and her skin turned even paler, paler still, “She’s still up there! Kickstart! She’s still up there! We left her!”

Kickstart reached for her, only for Lightning to dart away, falling back onto the grass.

There was a bloody ring around one of his eyes, and there was a dim red glow beneath his skin.

He saw the fear in her eyes, and brought his hoof back, sitting down in the grass, hardly strong enough now to even prop himself up.

The pressure in his chest had not yet subsided, just as with prior incidents. Incidents that were kept quiet, from all except for Scootaloo, who was steadfast in minding his business. Blasting beams of magic through his eyes, turning water to boil with a blink, breathing flumes of fire, and now teleportation. He was reluctant to tell the others - what would be left of him besides this freak of nature, some experimental anomaly? He was alone to blame, he thought, for what had happened. He made the mistake of panicking, of rushing the unstable instinct inside him, that voice in his mind that grew stronger each day. Only, the voice was not his. They were several, all at once, all together, screaming and whispering and contradicting each other. They turned him every which way, and in these fleeting moments of weakness, they had the upper hand.

Lightning, meanwhile, was a blubbering mess, desperately trying to muster the strength to sprout her wings. But her body refused, and she was too weak to do much else than sit idly.

“What did you do to me?” Lightning cried, “He took her! We have to get her! We have to go back!”

"I-I don't know what happened," Kickstart said, "Don't try, you can't..."

Lightning again tried to jump up and take flight, but her muscles were too exhausted. She had teleported before with Starlight, without these kinds of effects.

Lightning tried to control her breathing, and glanced back at him, her eyes bright red.

“I’m sorry,” Lightning said, wiping her eyes, “It’s not your fault. I know it's not your fault...”

"Fuck me," Kickstart grunted, shifting his weight to the other side. He shut his eyes and winced as the pressure pulsated in his chest, "That's a new one..."

“You could've picked a better time to try it out,” Lightning said, sniffling and taking a deep breath to calm herself down.

"I couldn't stop it," Kickstart retorted, "I couldn't..."

Lightning glared up at Cloudsdale hovering up miles in the sky.

"I've got to call Suri," she said, digging into her bag slung across her back, to find her radio, "We have to tell the others. Why did I let her come? Idiot!”

Kickstart nodded, before again reaching for his chest, which continued to burn. Lightning climbed over towards him. She rested her hoof on his shoulder, only to quickly retract it; he was hot to the touch.

“I’m alright,” Kickstart insisted, though Lightning had trouble believing him, "This isn't good."

"I saved us once, now I've fucked us," Kickstart supposed, "So the good news is I've got a clean slate now."

"Scootaloo was right. You need to see somepony," Lightning said, "Moon Dancer. Or somepony with an actual medical license, preferably."

Kickstart nodded, grimly. Lightning buried her head in her hooves.

“I was supposed to protect her,” Lightning whispered, her eyes falling to the ground, “I promised.”

Kickstart took a great deep breath and pushed off the ground, staggering up to his hooves with a vicious growl.

He struggled over toward her and stretched out his hoof once again.

“We won't get her back by sitting here crying,” Kickstart said.

Lightning felt her heart twist in her chest, and she reached to wipe her eyes again.

She raised her hoof, clasping Kickstart with a firm grip.

Sunlight poured off the copper rooftops, flooding the city streets below, while the seabirds sailed overhead, disappearing into rose-dust clouds and perching on mossy stone spires.

Vertigo could taste the salt in the air, where the sea’s deep breath could still reach, and wiped the sweat off his brow. His armor, once golden now scuffed with dirt, felt heavier than ever before. His great green plume shivered in the wind, a bright beacon resonant above the coming crowds.

He was approaching his third week in the old bay city of Irwind, where the summer heat lingered on, even as the autumn winds crept closer from the north.

Now, Irwind was not precisely a possession of Equestria, having been ruled independently as a maritime city-state for nearly a century. Basking in the sun below the San Palomino Desert, and farther still at the edge of the Deep Wood, the city sat in the southwest of the Equestrian continent, along the South Luna Sea, or, as it was called by its local populace, the Meditermarian Sea.

Irwind had long remained outside Equestrian borders, having developed first as a trading post run by merchants sailing from Las Pegasus and the Western Continent, Primaeva.

For six decades now, it was the Azimuth family who had overseen the rule of law and trade relations of the city, negotiating mutually beneficial agreements with Equestria and beyond.

Irwind served as the capital of its region, Augusta, once known as the Nightshade Settlements. Within those borders, the Ghostfort stood in the Deep Wood, along with the old castle-city, Mercy Hill. And along the shore, beyond Irwind there was Newport in the north, and Shimmering Spires in the south.

Lady Azimuth had remained in Canterlot even after the Grand Galloping Gala, reluctant to leave the safety of the palace while the city continued to erupt into chaos. And her son, Hydrangea, now a member of the Nine, was obligated to remain as well, to serve Twilight Sparkle in whatever facet she required,

And so was left the last member of the family, poor Delphinium, the youngest child of Azimuth, whose authority over the city had been charged only in name. Cursed to toil in her tower and watch on while her city falls deeper into desolation.

But it was not Delphi who had organized the negotiations with the revolutionaries, however, and it was not Delphi who ordered supplies to be rounded up from the nearest military storehouses north of the Deep Wood.

Vertigo hardly cared to indulge himself in the spoils of celebration, while his soldiers continued marching on through the city gates, driving carriages packed to the brim with barrels of food, medicine, clothing, and other supplies. To have organized such an effort only took him a week, having sent his fastest couriers to make way for the nearest outpost in the Red Gap. There, they would rally additional support from the towns of Dangling and Hilltop, and return south, gathering more supplies as they went.

And when the first shipments arrived, the ponies of Irwind were wary, unsure whether it was wise to accept any gifts from the royal army. It was not until Vertigo could meet with the revolutionaries face-to-face, that a degree of trust could be established. And over time, the starving poor began to appear in droves at the town square, crawling out from their stowaways and makeshift shelters.

Carriages ran through the street daily now, where soldiers tossed off crates and packages to the crowds. And after the third day, there was even merriment in the streets, with banners hung from tenement windows, and storefront decorated with flags and ornaments, all of them the color green. Green like the plume on Vertigo’s helmet, the very sight of which demanded cheers from the crowd.

That night, in the Governor’s Palace, Vertigo could still hear his name being called out in the streets. He thought it was only an echo from the day, only to find there remained a small group of citizens outside the palace gate.

The ache in his head told him he had better get some rest. The work was not quite done, after all.

“Captain,” came the siren’s song, slipping out from the doors to the palace lounge. He had meant to pass by the place without a second glance, and had not noticed Delphi curled up on the red satin couch, with golden edges and frills. She wore a deep green gown, darker than the tone of her soft sea-green coat, while her chestnut mane was done up in billowing bundles of curls.

Vertigo came to a stop, reluctant to ignore the girl’s call.

“My lady, I should wish you goodnight,” Vertigo said, with a smile and a wave.

“Yes, you should, but later,” Delphi said, sitting up on the couch, “Come over here and have a drink with me.”

Vertigo glanced at the ground.

“My lady, I-”

“Oh, but you must. Captain, we’ve yet to celebrate all you’ve done for my city. All you’ve done for me,” she smiled, “Come over here. C’mon, don’t make me beg.”

Vertigo gritted his teeth and caved into her demands, finding trouble in refusing her yawning pleas.

He set his helmet down on a coffee table near the couch. The room glowed gold, with its decadent furniture and chandeliers, with its deep red carpets and silky-soft pillows.

“I owe you a great deal,” Delphi said, leaning over the edge of the couch to pour him a drink of her chardonnay, “My wicked mother left me a prisoner in my own palace, my city to rot and starve.”

“This is only a start,” Vertigo said, hesitantly accepting the drink, “They’ll be well-fed for a few weeks, maybe longer…Then they’ll starve again.”

“I’m going to change that,” Delphi insisted, “By working with them.”

Vertigo smiled, amused by her confidence.

“There’s a smile,” Delphi grinned, “I didn’t know I had what it takes to break a soldier’s stern demeanor.”

Vertigo shook his head and took a few great gulps of his drink.

“You’ve become quite the celebrity here,” Delphi smirked, “But for some odd reason you seem to resent it.”

Vertigo glared at her.

“Day one - they make it clear, you’re a part of a whole, ” Vertigo said, setting down his glass, “...You might make a difference, but not because of who you are - no, it’s because of what you fight for. But everything we thought we were fighting for ... none of it was true. Celestia and Twilight aren't who we thought they were. And now here they are, cheering my name like some liberator.”

“But that is what you are,” Delphi smiled, scooting closer towards him on the couch, “Irwind might’ve crumbled to ash, with all memory of grandeur forgotten, if you hadn’t come. You’ve given them hope of what could be, if only the ponies charged to protect them could fulfill their duty, as you’ve done.”

“My duty is to Twilight Sparkle,” Vertigo corrected, “It was not duty that changed my mind.”

He glanced at her, and she blushed, sitting back against the couch.

“Nopony’s ever given me much thought, not that they should’ve,” Vertigo admitted, “Day in and out, there was never much point in speaking your mind. You’d be ignored, or maybe reprimanded if you made a big stink about it. The ponies who’ve led us into this war don’t like to be reminded that it's them who are sending thousands to die, though.”

“Forget what your officers with their medals and ribbons have told you. You’ve shown me who you are already,” Delphi said, glancing out the window.

Vertigo followed her gaze, and sighed.

“Twilight sent me here as a punishment, you should know,” Vertigo said, “To bide my time putting down insurrections, instead of fighting the enemy at our doorstep. It was some show of pride for her, to keep me here and make me watch while the dragons raid the south, razing entire villages and slaughtering thousands. Instead she's sent Hawkbit, that self-satisfied cunt, to lead the van to challenge them. He's too much of a coward to give the dragons the fight they deserve. And ponies will continue to suffer as a result. I know the southern lands, I know its ponies. It should've been me leading the campaign. Twilight has made me impotent, stripped me of all honor.”

Delphi leaned closer, her eyes circling her.

“Honor is what you make it. It is earned, not given, not taken away,” Delphi said, as her voice fell to a whisper, “How few there are now - those who might make a stand against tyranny, who might deliver us all from the lawless, and free us from those who would see all the good in this world destroyed.”

Vertigo flinched, eyeing her deeply.

“Equestria has lost its faith. Its heroes have become villains, turning on each other and stepping on everypony who gets in the way. Equestria needs a new champion, a pony with the strength to pick up the pieces, to redeem us,” she continued.

Delphi reached for his hoof.

“And I believe I’m the one to have found him.”

Vertigo could no longer restrain himself, lunging forward to plant his lips on hers, grabbing a hoofful of her chestnut locks from behind, and swinging over to climb on top of her.

She was a meadow, sweet like spring honeydew, but with a sharp sting like lemon juice to a wound.

He felt Delphi’s breath near his cheek, and their lips met. Pressing deeper, she was too soft, too slippery, in contrast to Vertigo’s dry, hard lips. Delphi’s cheeks were flushed, and her stomach began to twist. She grabbed at his chest, dragging her hooves against him. And they pressed tighter and looser, again and again, while both their breathing began to harden into something heavy and hot.

She pulled away briefly for a gasp of air and began to play with his mane, leaning in by his ear.

“You don’t need her,” Delphi whispered, “Fight for what you know is right. And in time all of Equestria will see the truth - that here stands a pony who deserves their love. Here is a pony who really does deserve the crown.”

Vertigo opened his eyes, and gradually pushed off of her, so shocked he could hardly speak. Delphi was still smiling, however, eyeing him down like a half-crazed animal.

“This is treason,” Vertigo stammered, “Your words mean death.”

“You know what you are,” Delphi insisted, “Listen to how they call your name. You were not meant to stay idle and watch the world catch fire. You were not meant to follow the whims of lesser rulers, who are content to reign over the ashes. You were meant to fight.”

Vertigo backed away, rising to his hooves.

He shook his head.

He could feel her eyes, clinging onto him, reeling him back toward her. Each time he shut his eyes, he could see hers, blue and endless and all too beautiful to ever forget. Beauty of a strange kind, the kind worth protecting, the kind worth dying for. She was a fool, he thought, hapless and stupid, but true to her nature, with the naive self-assurance of a child. Why then did her words twist at him? Was his own will so weakened that this girl could demand he turn his cloak? It was more than the girl, he reminded himself. She spoke truly, she did, and when once he might have been content to retreat against ambition, behind the excuse of hopeless ineffectiveness, now he had proven himself at last. Outside those very gates the ponies of this city knew that his was the true steel, that his mind was not one to be disregarded so carelessly. Twilight had dismissed him and would dismiss him again even now, perhaps. There might have been a hundred more like him, he thought, too scared to stand up against Twilight. Even his own captain, Wedge Ward, held grievances with the princess. All it would take is one brave enough to take the first leap. And who else might do it, but the one whose name they still called out from the streets?

Vertigo slowly turned around to face her.

“And what good would it do you, for me to abandon you and your city?” Vertigo asked, “For me to have war?”

“Equestria’s fate matters more than my own,” Delphi whispered, “You must do this.”

Vertigo smiled, straightening up, catching a reflection of the gleam in his eyes in the window.

“....Twilight has left Cinder’s wrath unanswered,” Vertigo said, “The dragons expect the road to Canterlot to remain unguarded. I will catch them in their tracks, stomp them out, and send them running back to the Badlands with their tails tucked between their legs. The bloodshed will stop at last. And Twilight will have me to thank.”

Delphi grinned, leaping up back toward him.

“You are my knight, my brave knight,” Delphi chimed, “Show the world what you’ve shown me.”

Vertigo, red in the face with lust, with the thrill of ambition, with the thought of the world cheering his name just like those ponies outside, reached for her again, toppling together back toward the couch.

And even then, the cheers continued outside, echoing hard into the night.

Grey light drained through black tar smoke that wafted up past blood-soaked sewers and burning debris. The streets stunk of charred wreckage, echoing dead screams and the creaking of cracked hinges.

Such was the misery felt throughout the city, that not a single soul seemed brave enough to wander outside any longer. Those grinning traveling troupes with their horns and strings, and those clumsy hopscotch foals, all had gone away. A ghost town remained in the wreckage, a week’s worth of blood and battle and terror.

Sunset Shimmer had anticipated the day Twilight’s majesty would come crumbling down, and the madness that would ensue. Higher up on the mountain, in a mossy gorge tucked away from the chaos below, she may have been content to hide and count her blessings, if not for her impatience.

Lightning Dust should have returned by now. In fact, she should have returned yesterday morning. Lightning Dust was many things, Sunset thought, but not the kind of pony to needlessly dawdle.

Something must have gone wrong.

From the tip of a stony archway at the edge of the gorge, facing down the mountain toward the ruin of Canterlot, Sunset did her best to ignore that gnawing ache in the back of her head.

“Sunset.”

Sunset flinched, to her chagrin, and glanced behind her to find Wallflower climbing up the rock.

“You’re not usually awake before noon,” Sunset remarked, waiting for Wallflower to struggle up the climb beside her.

“I didn’t know I had it in me,” Wallflower smiled, catching her breath, “...I need to talk to you.”

Sunset glanced at her, with a softer scowl than usual. Wallflower seemed alarmed, having noticed the fire in Sunset’s eyes had dulled down. She opted to proceed as planned, though spoke softly, fearful of an escalatory argument.

“Suri got a call on her radio from Lightning Dust,” Wallflower said. Sunset’s eyes lit up, as if a great burden had been lifted off of her.

“Where is she? Is she safe?” Sunset asked.

“She’s alright, but she’s hurt. Kickstart too. They’re not far from Canterlot, but neither can fly right now.”

Sunset nodded, biting her lip.

“Then we’ve got to go get them,” Sunset insisted.
“There’s more…” Wallflower said, stopping Sunset from trotting off back to the gorge, “...She was a bit hysterical over the phone….Fire Streak has Scootaloo. He and his friends want to meet with us. You, particularly."

Sunset held her tongue before she could let out a string of curses.

“...They should never have brought her along,” Sunset muttered, “They want to meet us? When?”

“Tomorrow at midnight. In the city. Suri knows the location,” Wallflower said.

Sunset shook her head, uncertain.

“First they want to kill us. Now they want to talk things over? This sounds like a trap.”

“Probably,” Wallflower said, glancing at the ground, “But we don’t have much of a choice, if they’ve got Scootaloo.”

Sunset scoffed.

“There’s two ways we come out of that hotel. In body bags, or as henchponies doing the dirty work for this collective of creeps. We’re not getting Scootaloo back either way,” Sunset said.

“Maybe, but we still have to try,” Wallflower insisted.

Sunset glared at her, and nodded, regrettably. She sighed, leaning against the rock, ignoring Wallflower’s gaze.

“No matter what happens, I need you to make an effort not to instigate anything,” Wallflower said.

Sunset scoffed.

“We did things your way last time. Now it’s my turn,” Sunset replied, “You really want to play nice with these elitist billionaires, who kidnapped a middle-schooler? This time I’ll be handling it.”

“Handled it like you did at Ponyville?” Wallflower asked, frustratedly.

But, to Wallflower’s surprise, Sunset seemed to shrink at the mention of Ponyville, and her eyes fell to the ground. Sunset’s face then began to change, warped and furled, and glanced back up at Wallflower.

“You think it’s some proud thing for me?” Sunset stammered, “Yeah. Things got out of hoof. You don’t think I know that? I’d do it differently if I could go back. I can still see them all. I can still hear them. Running for the hills, crying and begging. And the worst thing is - I still remember how good it felt. It felt good to get even. To take away something that mattered to her."

“No matter what she did to you,” Wallflower said, “It’s no excuse to take it out on everypony else. I know how you feel, it’s why I did what I did to my village. But it doesn’t help. You didn’t just hurt Twilight, you hurt innocent ponies. I want to forgive you, Sunset, but I need you to get it through your head that the longer you spend hating her with all your heart, the more you convince yourself that you can’t change. That you’re in the right to do horrible things.”

“She made me into this,” Sunset said, through gritted teeth, “Into this monster that everypony thinks I am. So why not embrace it? My life is over, she made sure of it. This is all I am now. All I can do is spite Twilight in any way I can. And who better to do it, than me? This was what I was meant to do. What else have I got?”

“You have us,” Wallflower said, “Me and Bon Bon and Lightning, and Suri and Kickstart and Scootaloo. I don’t care how much you want to deny yourself the chance to change. I know that there’s good in you.”

Sunset glanced at her, and tried not to laugh, amazed by Wallflower’s sincerity.

“Why on earth do you give a damn about me, Wallflower Blush?” Sunset asked.

Wallflower laughed, turning red in the face, glancing at the ground.

“Because you're my friend,” Wallflower said, "And as much as we disagree, we need each other."

“...I’m beginning to think you’re right,” Sunset said, and sighed.

She glanced back at Canterlot below.

“Alright. Let’s handle this. Together.”

Wallflower smiled and followed Sunset back down the ridge.

Snowfall Glitter fixed the brace on her foreleg, and tucked the last strands of her platinum blonde mane into her white and gold helmet.

The ponies of the 2nd Assault Battalion were nearly all accounted for, packing into the carriage transports that waited in orderly rows in front of the Canterlot palace gates.

By the gate, Snowfall was begrudged to find Styles, waiting there with his bronze helmet and leather armor.

“I heard they’ve made you commander,” Styles chirped, frustrated once Snowfall walked right along past him, “I wonder who else they’ve promoted. Perhaps the dungeon cat.”

“He’ll get it sooner than you ever will,” Snowfall smirked, continuing on.

Styles grinned, before leaping off of the gate he had been leaning on, and caught up to her.

“You and I are going to be spending a lot of time together. Best to not look so glum about it,” Styles said.

“That will be quite the challenge,” Snowfall muttered.

“Wait, I’ve got it. You’re just upset Twilight didn’t think her dog could handle this alone. Perfectly understandable. A pony of your rank, with your experience. Stuck with a babysitter.”

Snowfall stopped in her tracks, turning to glare at him.

“Don't call me dog,” Snowfall spat, staring up at him. She hated that name. "And I'm not upset."

“Ah, then you are glad I’m coming along. I knew you had a soft spot for me,” Styles laughed, skipping past her.

"Wait, that is not what I-” Snowfall called out, her face flushing red.

Styles was already gone, however, joining Flamberge and Venger further down by the edge of the palace road.

“Looks like I nearly missed you.”

Snowfall’s ears perked up, when the voice behind her seemed to draw closer.

Snowfall turned around, her icy blue eyes widening in shock.

“Redshift?” Snowfall exclaimed, struggling to make sense of the fact that her thought-to-be-lost comrade was standing right in front of her. Redshift’s serpentine eyes seemed to burn with a green fire, and her blood-red armor was scuffed and dented.

Snowfall jumped towards her to wrap her forelegs around her, and Redshift was shocked to have welcomed the embrace, at least for a few moments.

“Get off,” Redshift barked, “What’s the matter with you?”

“We all thought you’d been killed!” Snowfall said.

Redshift scoffed.

“....Looks like Equestria didn’t take too kindly to my absence. Go figure.”

“Nobody’s exactly happy with how things have turned out,” Snowfall said, “Twilight’s sending me north.”

Redshift hesitated, and realized the implications of such an assignment.

“..Well, I don’t care what your friends up there used to mean to you,” Redshift said, snidely marching closer towards her, “They are rebel filth. Every one of our betrayers will face justice. If you don’t have the guts to do it, then I’ll go up there and take their heads myself.”

“Redshift,” came another voice, belonging to Wedge Ward, trotting down the road with a small entourage of royal guards. His golden armor glowed in the morning sunlight, and his smile put Snowfall’s heart at ease.

“You gave us no warning of your return,” Wedge said, suspiciously, “I’d suspect you were a changeling, though nopony can quite stare daggers at me like you can. Not even a changeling could copy that.”

“Captain,” Redshift muttered, “Where is the princess? I need to see her.”

“You’ll find her inside,” Wedge said, “I would advise cleaning yourself up before paying her a visit.”

Redshift scoffed and stormed off, shoving her way through the wall of royal guards to march up the palace road.

Wedge glanced at Snowfall, who felt more like a cadet right then, staring up at him the same way she had done all those years ago at boot camp.

“I thought I’d see you off, and wish you luck,” Wedge said, “I’d give anything to join you both. But Twilight would not have it so.”

“You have nothing to prove to anypony, Captain,” Snowfall said, “It’s me who’s in over her head.”

Wedge smiled and stuck his hoof on her shoulder.

“Even now you still tremble like it’s your first fight,” Wedge smiled, “Twilight chose you for a reason. So have I. Don’t obsess over where you are now, instead remember how far you’ve come.”

“I can’t do this,” Snowfall said, and her voice began to give out, “All I’ve ever had to my name is honor, loyalty…Now I’m made to wage war against the ponies who raised me. My friends, my family, everypony. And Twilight knows it, and is making me go through with it anyway. I've only ever done as she asked, even when I didn't think it was right...Why would she ask this of me?”

"This is a city of liars. Honesty and loyalty come as suspicious things, it grieves me to say. She wants to test you, I think."

"Hasn't she tested me enough?" Snowfall stammered, lowering her head in despair, "I should not be questioning her, I know. I'm only supposed to serve. But-..."

Wedge led her closer towards him, and she fell upon his chest, burying her head in his shoulder. He held her for a moment, and his smile had begun to wane.

“All we can do is follow what our hearts tell us,” Wedge said, “What does your say?”

Snowfall freed herself from his grasp, and glanced up with teary eyes.

“I have to obey her,” Snowfall said, firmly, “I’ve no choice in the matter.”

“You always have a choice,” Wedge corrected, “Remember what I’ve taught you. And keep an eye out for Styles. I’ve told him to do the same for you.”

Snowfall sniffled and nodded her head. She glanced over her shoulder toward Styles further down the road. He was glancing up at her, before he noticed she was staring right back. He quickly turned away, embarrassed.

Snowfall hid her smile and turned back to Wedge.

“I don’t want to leave you, Captain,” she said.

“I’ll be right here when you get back,” Wedge smiled. He lifted his hoof off her shoulder, and trotted off to speak with Styles.

Snowfall wiped her eyes, and took a deep breath.

She fastened her helmet, and glanced over the palace gate past the mountain peak, to the stormy north that lay ahead, rumbling in low tides, in furious wake.

Stray sheets of ice fled down the current, steady in the shadow of Seaguard’s cold grey stone.

From across the bend, Broadwing stole a glance at the castle walls.

While the Crystal Empire had its fair share of allies in the Highlands, there remained countless holdouts, and those who still claimed loyalty to Twilight. Chiefly among them were Lavender, the Lady of Silkwood, and Stonehoof, the Lord of Haverford and Lord Protector of the Highlands.

Stonehoof had wasted no time for Twilight’s leave, before mobilizing what forces he could and moving into Seaguard on the northwest coast. Seaguard was the southwestern-most castle port of the North, though had historically belonged to the Equestrian Highlanders. It sat up above the Smoky Shore, which held the cities of Seaward Sholes, Vanhoover, and Tall Tale.

Stonehoof’s preemptive occupation of the castle prohibited the Crystal Army from accessing the port, and, by extension, the Northern navy was unable to reach the North Lunar Sea. Northern ports were not fit to propel a southbound naval attack, not while the royals held Seaguard and could keep the Smoky Shore cities protected.

Broadwing had been right to target Seaguard first, but had arrived too late; Stonehoof’s outfit had already locked down the castle, and had withstood the Northern siege for three days already.

Broadwing had not received word from Shining Armor, not since he had left the Crystal City. His army was separated along the road to cover his tracks, gradually applying pressure to the siege.

But Broadwing had no mind for a prolonged siege; word had reached him that the Grand Equestrian Army had begun to depart from Canterlot. Without naval support, and without the Smoky Shore settlements under their control, the Crystal Army would be caught unprepared and under-supplied. Seaguard could not wait.

“Sir,” came Captain Windchill, entering into Broadwing’s command tent. He was surrounded by other of his lieutenants - Mulberry, Esther, and Aleheart, all studying the map of the castle, searching for a weakness to exploit, “...The courier from Stratusburg, he’s just come through.”

“Shining?” Broadwing asked, hoping for some kind of direction from the prince.

“No, it’s to do with the royals,” Windchill said, hesitantly, “They’ve put Snowfall Glitter in charge of the campaign.”

All eyes at the table turned to Windchill. Broadwing gritted his teeth.

“The witch that sits the throne has put a spell on our friend,” Broadwing supposed, “Never mind it be Snowfall or Celestia herself. They can not withstand us, once we take the sea.”

“If not for Stonehoof. The old stallion is a stubborn one,” Windchill acknowledged, joining them at the table.

“We should wait for Shining Armor,” Mulberry said, “We’re no good without him. He’d know what to do.”

Broadwing narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t give up so soon,” Broadwing said, “There was something that occurred to me last night. Far from smart, maybe, but we haven’t the time to wait for a better chance.”

“What is it?” Esther asked.

Broadwing pointed at one spot on the map, at the side that faced the sea.

“Stonehoof’s only got forty-or-so ponies held up there. We’d only need a small number to take the castle, once we've breached it,” Broadwing said, “It’s here. Right here. Some centuries ago, in the time of King Aretheus, the Dains were able to infiltrate a castle like this, against a vanguard of the king’s finest knights. Their method was not to lay siege, or levy some brutish assault as you would assume they would, knowing the Dains.”

The table laughed in unison, before allowing Broadwing to continue.

“They resorted to more resourceful means - a clever plan, tunneling underground from the edge of the sea. They kept the vanguard distracted with their catapults and bonfires and trumpets and arrows,” Broadwing said, “The castle is impregnable from any other route.”

“I know that story too. But the ground here is fickle,” Mulberry pointed out, “Most of those Dains that tried tunneling, they brought on collapse after collapse, and were buried in the dirt. To try it is a death sentence. Otherwise we’d be in the castle already.”

Broadwing shook his head, unconvinced.

“We have no other choice but to try. Every unicorn we have, commit them to the task of breaking through the earth. Bring in the ground-cutters from behind the line. We’ll enter in small groups. We’ve tried every other route. If this doesn’t work, we’ll have lost the war before it’s even begun.”

There was hesitancy about the table.

“What are you waiting for?” Windchill barked, “You heard him! Move!”

Mulberry, Esther, and Aleheart all scurried off from the table, leaving Windchill with Broadwing.

“Our window is closing,” Windchill reminded, “And we’re in no position to fight Snowfall. Not yet, not like this.”

“We take this castle. Then the sea,” Broadwing said, “Then the Highlands, they’ll belong to us.”

Windchill nodded, smiling ear-to-ear.

Broadwing glanced out the crack in the tent, narrowing his eyes at the castle across the river.

Weathered wails haunted the honeycomb hollow, where the jagged stone tops trembled and the rain collected in cavernous lairs.

Pharynx had just finished drenching himself in a bowl of ice water, gritting his teeth in frustration. He had refused to wear his brother’s crown anymore, or even occupy the same throne room. Instead, he was content to remain in his old quarters, a windowless cave stuck up near the top of the changeling hive’s tallest tower.

Malthos had opted to remain in Canterlot, against Pharynx’s wishes. The boy might get himself killed, though Pharynx was reluctant to spare much concern. It was Thorax who had once given him purpose, and he had failed to protect him, as he had sworn to do. Malthos’ fate would not be different, Pharynx supposed, as would his own. Fate had spurned them all. They had been returned to light, only to be damned anew.

A knock at the door returned him to a scowl, spinning around to welcome in the new arrival.

He was greeted by Phasmid, an eighth-molt officer of his, along with four of her underlings. But what caught his eye in particular was the creature bound in chains, held between them. Silver Stream could not manage to meet his gaze, quivering in her chains.

“Finally,” Pharynx growled, stepping aside to allow them all to enter.

“My king,” Phasmid grunted, bowing, “The prince instructed me to send you his regards, and assure you his business in Canterlot is strictly for the interests of the hive.”

Pharynx glanced at Phasmid, who was waiting for a response.

“Has she been harmed?” Pharynx muttered, approaching Silver.

The hippogriff was trembling, her cornflower mane tangled, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. She could hardly lift her head to meet his eyes, as he stared down at her, inspecting her from all sides.

“Not since she entered my custody in Widowbrook, my king,” Phasmid said, “The prince’s soldiers may have roughed her up a bit, I’m afraid.”

Pharynx nodded.

“I want you and your soldiers to wait outside. I need to have a word with our guest.”

“As you wish, my king,” Phasmid said, bowing.

She gestured for her underlings to follow her out the door, which shut with a gentle shake.

Pharynx turned his attention back to Silver, who squirmed under his glare.

“I did not wish for you to have been hurt,” Pharynx sighed, “But these things are not always so easy. I had hoped Malthos might have won you over somehow. Foolish as that might have been, it would have spared you the chains and shackles.”

Silver Stream glared up at him, mustering all her courage.

Pharynx smirked.

“With you at my side, the hippogriff fleet will come into my possession, or else succumb to confusion and collapse upon itself. I either gain an ally or lose an enemy. I do regret using you in such a sordid way. Though if you were in my position, you might understand.”

“Yours isn’t the only kingdom to have lost someone,” Silver reminded, “My aunt was murdered right alongside your brother. We could have come together somehow, and figured out who the real enemy is, but instead you’ve betrayed us too. All because you’re scared. Your brother would never have-”

“Do not speak to me of my brother,” Pharynx snarled, “Loved by all, he was. Content to believe in brighter skies, until the first drops of rain sent him slipping into an early grave. Action must be taken. Sitting on the fence will leave you as you are now - a pawn, to be moved about a game you are unfit to play by your own devices.”

“You think you’re so much smarter and better than them! But you’re not! You’re a coward! A killer!” Silver yelled.

Pharynx’s scowl loosened, and, to Silver’s shock, he began to grin.

“I hadn’t thought you’d give up the act so soon,” Pharynx laughed, “....My dear, you should know that changelings do not suffer illusions. Or am I incorrect, Ocellus?”

Silver’s eyes widened. But before she could speak, Pharynx already had his hoof over her neck, pressing taut.

In a flash of green light, Silver’s form evaporated in a cloud of smoke and left behind in the now-oversized chains was poor Ocellus, who was trembling in terror.

Pharynx released his grip on her neck.

“You have nothing to fear from me, child. We do not turn on our own kind. Some time in the dungeon should help you remember that.”

Ocellus lunged forward in her chains.

“Leave Silver alone!” she yelled.

Pharynx shook his head in dismay.

“Phasmid,” Pharynx said, raising his voice.

Phasmid opened the door without delay, stepping inside and standing at attention. Her jaw dropped for a moment, catching sight of Ocellus sitting in Silver’s chair.

“My king, I-I…Forgive me, sir, I-”

“Quiet,” Pharynx said, raising his hoof, “Our comrade Ocellus has betrayed her country to protect her foreign friend. Still, she has more wits than my idiot son. Twilight still believes we have Silver Stream. Since they don’t have her, and we also don’t have her, she is likely still loose in the city somewhere.”

“Malthos is still there, sir. Should I-”

Pharynx narrowed his eyes.

“Make him aware. He might stumble onto some stroke of luck, fate willing. You will also go, scour the city. Find her before Twilight does, or else our very first move will have already become a grave blunder. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir. And her?” Phasmid said, glancing at Ocellus.

Pharynx glared down at Ocellus.

“Leave her to me.”

Dirt crumbled out of Broadwing’s open hoof, as he rose up from the ground.

The tunnel stretched into the earth of the ridge, a mile away from the fort of Seaguard. The waves broke nearby, further down the ridge on the cold beach.

“If the earth holds, the castle is ours,” Broadwing reminded.

Behind him, Windchill stood at his side, along with a host of thirty ponies, armed with swords and spears and shields.

“Keep an eye on the pony in front of you. Listen to their steps. We’ll soon lose the light,” Broadwing said.

He motioned for them to follow along behind him, as he took the first steps into the tunnel.

The diggers and spellcasters were still inside, deeper by the first checkpoint, the last point of certainty where the ground would not cave in.

He found them there, Esther among them.

Esther’s horn brightened, revealing her pink face caked in brown dirt.

“My prince,” she said, bowing her head.

Broadwing grinned, impressed with the progress already made.

“Well done,” Broadwing said, before glancing over his shoulder at the line of soldiers behind him, “Carry on. With speed, while they've still got courage.”

The surveyors took a step back, and Esther, along with four of her companions, ignited their horns, blasting at the dirt in circular motions, cutting the outlines of the tunnel deeper and deeper. The dirt was eviscerated with each blast.

Broadwing’s company trekked forward with a steady step, waiting as the diggers gradually made their progress.

“If this doesn’t work, we’ll all be buried alive,” Esther said.

“Say it louder, why don’t you,” Broadwing muttered, “I wonder what Shining would think of all this.”

“I’m sure he’ll mention it in your eulogy,” Esther said, shaking her head with concern, “The ground’s getting thinner.”

“Just think about the look on Stonehoof’s face,” Broadwing advised, “That should be motivation enough.”

Esther smirked. And they kept on digging, though as the light from behind them faded, and the ground above them began to tremble and shudder with its weight, there were those in the company who quickly considered turning back.

“Keep the pace!” Broadwing yelled, sensing the uneasiness behind him, “We’re near the castle already. Keep on the path, and keep steady!”

But Esther came to a stop, to Broadwing’s shock.

One of the surveyors had raised his hoof, checking his markings on his map with one of his companions.

He nodded toward Esther, who turned to Broadwing.

“We should be below the courtyard, sir,” Esther said.

Broadwing nodded.

“On my command, take two steps back!” Broadwing yelled, “....One! Two!”

And the company followed suit, each of them taking an even two steps backwards. Not a single soul stumbled or fell out of line, to Broadwing’s relief. He shot a glance back toward Esther, nodding in approval. He glanced back over his shoulder.

“Mulberry, take your ponies to the battlements first. Windchill, take yours to the gate. Open it. I’ll give the signal for Aleheart to move in. Everypony alright?”

There was a hesitancy to the response, though there was enough conviction that Broadwing felt confident in the plan.

“Esther, take us up,” Broadwing ordered, bracing himself at the front of the line.

Esther motioned for the other unicorns to split into a box-formation, while the surveyors scurried back toward the line.

Esther raised her hoof, and her horn ignited. The others followed suit, and directed their magic up towards the ceiling of the tunnel, cutting again in round motions, forming a circle.

Some of the dirt came spilling down over top of them, while most of it disintegrated on impact.

They pushed on, until the first beam of sunlight shot through the specks of grey dirt above.

“I see sunlight!” Esther yelled.

Broadwing drew his sword right there in the tunnel, and stormed forward underneath the hole.

He spread his wings, waiting for Esther and the other unicorns to back away against the tunnel wall.

He jumped up into the air and took flight, darting up straight through the vertical tunnel.

And he reached the dirt ceiling with a heavy impact, pushing through with his shoulder.

He lost his footing in the air as he plowed through the dirt, and toppled up over the ground.

He could breathe the frigid air again, as he came spilling down onto the proper ground, blackened and soiled in dirt.

Broadwing found himself in the courtyard of Seaguard, half-abandoned, with scattered crates of food and weapons left near-empty in the edges.

Up on the walls, the soldiers had not noticed his arrival for a few moments, or at least not until Windchill came charging up through the hole. And behind her came the onslaught of pegasi, flying up through the hole with their weapons raised and ready.

Broadwing brought his sword up and flew toward the front gate spiral.

Back above on the battlements, Stonehoof shoved his way to see what had happened, and was shocked to find the company of northerners storming up from the ground like cicadas, rushing the battlements and gates. His commands came quick, but not quick enough, as the castle was overwhelmed from within its own walls. Grieved, he reached for his ax, eager to send these invaders crawling back underground. His eyes found Broadwing below, peering up at him, covered head-to-hoof in dirt. Stonehoof gritted his teeth, and barked his orders at his flustered troops.

Broadwing flew down to the courtyard, glancing at the collection of hostages held over in the corner, as more of his troops entered in through the gate, moving in their carriages of supplies.

At the center of the courtyard, Windchill held her sword to Stonehoof’s throat. Noticing Broadwing’s arrival, she pressed the blade closer.

Broadwing waved for her to be still, and glanced back up at Stonehoof.

“Ah, Lord Broadwing,” Stonehoof remarked, wiping the ash off his face. He was blackened and bloodied, and stuck on his knees for the gash in his hind leg. There were sixteen spears held near his neck, though the old stallion could not move much at all, anyways.

Windchill narrowed her eyes at Stonehoof’s address; Broadwing was no mere lord any longer, after all.

“Some trick. I hadn’t thought the ground would hold,” Stonehoof said, sucking up some snot and coughing up some blood, “And I didn’t think you’d risk your life to try it.”

“The prisoners we’ve taken will not be harmed,” Broadwing said, “I’ll make sure they’re well-fed and taken good care of.”

“That’s more than I’d have done in return,” Stonehoof said, spitting at the ground, “If Canterlot hadn’t dragged its hooves to get up here, I might not have had to march into this wasteland country and hold this wretched fort.”

“Yes, it was strange to find you here, my lord,” Broadwing said, “You once swore an oath to Princess Cadance. To defend her and her lands. Or perhaps in your old age you’ve forgotten.”

Stonehoof laughed at Broadwing’s jape.

“One stroke of luck and he speaks to me like a conqueror to his spoils. Yes I swore that oath. And a hundred more, to Equestria, to Twilight Sparkle, to justice and order. Your band of belligerents means to march south onto my land. That is where your war will be fought. Not in Canterlot. Here. Cadance is beyond your reach. My country will be torn apart by this war, all while you harp on about honor and glory. You are a foolish boy, serving the whims of a foolish prince and a council of foolish warmongers.”

Broadwing glanced at the ground, while his soldiers began to turn restless, incensed by Stonehoof’s disrespect.

“I don't want war. I don't want to die, I don't want your ponies to die, and I don't want my ponies to die. Why do you think I'd be here unless I was convinced there was some grave necessity behind this all? Twilight Sparkle has kidnapped our princess, turned Equestria against itself, and here you are, too stubborn to consider any other way than to take the easiest route and serve her without a second thought.”

Stonehoof winced, and resented the implication of cowardice. He straightened himself up, though still could not stagger up past his knees.

“Look around Equestria and see,” Broadwing continued, “War and chaos and calamity. All Twilight Sparkle’s doing. No other. It was her who butchered the dragon empress, the changeling king, the hippogriff queen, our own leaders in Canterlot, for some twisted cause. There is a sickness in that city that can be soothed only through this rebellion. The pony you swore your oath to is no longer herself. You have long been stuck in your ways, and proudly so, maybe. But I will offer you another choice, plainly. The old ways, the rotten ways, we may yet put them behind us. But to do so means to fight.”

Stonehoof growled and gritted his teeth, before pushing with all his might on his injured leg. He managed to stagger up, gasping for breath as he tried to steady himself.

“I’ve seen the sickness you speak of. And it has dwelled in that castle for longer than you know. Celestia kept up her illusions for a thousand moons. This is the way things have always been."

“More is at stake now than ever before,” Broadwing said, “There very well may be no stopping her. But to do nothing, to play along with her games, that is the true betrayal. We will not forsake loyalty. You are beaten here, my lord. Twilight would not blink if I chose to kill you. Would she?”

Stonehoof narrowed his eyes, disgusted by the question. But, upon thinking on it, he found himself disgusted more so with himself.

“I reckon not.”

“It is not the throne you are sworn to. It is the idea of the throne. It is honor and justice. Twilight led a bloody reign, and did her wicked deeds with impunity. The dragons seek bloodshed. The changelings seek survival. But we seek only the redemption of this land, the rescue of Cadance, a pony of rare kind, noble and gentle and good. You know her. She sits in ragged chains as we speak, in some dark dungeon, kept apart from her infant daughter, from her husband. On what grounds could she deserve this?”

Stonehoof gritted his teeth.

“On the grounds of treason,” Stonehoof argued, “The same grounds that will have you and your cohorts left to the hangpony's judgment.”

“Treason against Twilight,” Broadwing said, “Not Equestria. We are Equestria. Fight beside us, my lord. Fight beside us and help restore order to this land. The rest of the Highlands look to Haverford for guidance. They look to you. Join us and provide us safe passage south, and we can take the fight there, without blood being spilt on your soil.”

Stonehoof’s eyes fell to the ground, and he suddenly felt a fool, as his eyes began to redden and his breath became twisted.

“You would have me betray my princess, to spare my land damnation,” Stonehoof reasoned.

“Do not lie and tell me your faulty sense of honor is worth more than the lives of all those Highlander ponies. If you resist us, we will set the Highlands to the torch as we march south. The Royals would be glad to do the same. And all throughout the land they will know it was their stubborn Lord Stonehoof who resigned them to this fate.”

Stonehoof growled, enraged, and tried his hardest to stand up to his hooves.

“What is your answer?” Broadwing demanded.

Stonehoof glared at him, red in the face, boiling with fury.

“...The Highlands are yours,” Stonehoof said, and it came almost as a whimper, as shame washed over him, “But a day will come that you get what’s yours. And by Celestia, you’ve got it coming.”

Broadwing shook his head, staring down at him.

“We’ve all got it coming.”

Broadwing turned away from him, and glanced over at Mulberry, who began marching at his side.

“You weren’t serious about that, were you?” Mulberry asked.

“Nothing else would’ve convinced him,” Broadwing said, “...Bring the last of the carriages before dusk catches us. We need to be quick. Send word to Ad Astra and Seastar, and Old Harbor and Helaea. Have them deploy their ships downstream to port here, to pick up supplies and enter open water. Windward has the command. And send word to the Crystal City, and Hammerhold, and Kholodnos. Move their columns south along the rivers here.”

“The rest of the Smoky Shore will be expecting us,” Mulberry reminded.

“Their defenses are weak. Vanhoover’s declared martial law, thanks to the riots,” Broadwing said, “As for Tall Tale and Seaward Sholes, they’re no matter. Canterlot’s armies won’t be able to reach them in time. Windward will ferry Hardball, and Magnus' forces and hit them all at once. We need those ports to manage supplies for when Canterlot finally makes it up here."

"Snowfall will be in the vanguard, I expect," Mulberry thought.

"I hope so," Broadwing said, "She's the only one I've a chance of predicting. I'll be leading the key regiment south by land, staking the outposts along the inland Smoky Shore roads. I expect Snowfall will find us there. Our goal isn't to defeat her in the open field, it's only to keep her occupied while Shining Armor rallies the rest of the empire, and the Highlands too, now that Stonehoof's complied."

“Should I send word of our success to Shining? He’s gathering support in Selvet, as we speak,” Mulberry offered.

Broadwing hesitated, and a smile curled the corners of his lips.

“Yes, I think so,” Broadwing said, eager for Shining to hear the news, “Have Stonehoof confirm his loyalty in writing. You, Esther, and Aleheart are to ride for Silkwood, Shimmerspear, and Amapola, respectively, and round up their support. If the Highlands stand with us, Canterlot will have to move for Haverford first. That will buy Shining the time he needs."

“Yes sir,” Mulberry nodded and trotted off, leaving Broadwing by the castle gate.

Broadwing’s eyes were fixed out on the caravan of carriages as they found their way into the castle.

The real war had begun.

Down Marigold Lane, Moon Dancer’s carriage came barreling over blood-stained cobblestone and puddles of ash, through veils of autumn drizzle, by blackened, boarded-up hovel-homes.

Sunset Shimmer trotted through the rear compartment of the carriage. She passed Wallflower, who was shivering in the very back corner, too terrified to stare too long out the window. And next was Suri, counting what few gold pieces she had managed to salvage after the commotion.

And last was Bon Bon, tinkering with some multicolor wires and metal fragments over the workbench.

They had left the gorge just an hour ago, descending into the city. The streets were lonely at night, save for the lingering patrols of armored guards, whose rattling gold mail echoed from countless blocks down.

“You need to eat something,” Sunset said, tossing Bon Bon her last apple, “You look half-starved.”

“I wouldn’t mind a bite of Mandola’s bread right about now,” Bon Bon laughed, before accepting the apple, “There’s a chance you won’t be coming out of there, y’know.”

“Something tells me they wouldn’t go through all this trouble just to put us down right then and there. I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be much worse than that,” Sunset muttered.

“Moon Dancer and I are going to head downtown. Learn more about the auction, where we might be able to find the case,” Bon Bon said.

Sunset nodded, and turned her attention to Moon Dancer, who was focused on the road, further up in the driver’s compartment.

“Sunset,” Bon Bon said, catching her before she could make it any farther toward Moon Dancer, “...When this is all over, and Twilight Sparkle’s dead…I won’t have forgotten what you did to my home. I want you to know that.”

Sunset eyed her, and turned her body to face Bon Bon, who was still seated.

“If you still feel raw about it - I’ll be waiting,” Sunset said, taking her time with each word.

Sunset left Bon Bon to grit her teeth at the workbench, and proceeded into the driver’s compartment, where Moon Dancer was hunched over the steering.

“Making enemies comes naturally to you, I guess,” Moon Dancer muttered.

“You said you’d be out by now, before the gala. Or have you started to get fond of us?”

“Far from it,” Moon Dancer spat, “A band of psycho killers, that’s all you are. Your pegasus friend and the freak with the scars, they’re dead. Is that right?”

“No,” Sunset said, “Sorry to disappoint you.”

Moon Dancer sighed.

“I’m only helping you because I’ve got nowhere else to go. Where could I go? Twilight’s soldiers would arrest me the second I drop by home,” Moon Dancer said.

“It was you who led us here,” Sunset reminded, “You put us on to Fancy Pants’ niece. What are the chances we see her?”

Moon Dancer glanced at her.

“It’s possible,” Moon Dancer admitted, “Why would that matter?”

“We won’t get Scootaloo back. Not yet. But if the girl is there….Well maybe we could at least save somepony.”

Moon Dancer scoffed.

“Knowing you, you probably want to use her for something.”

Sunset turned for the door.

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” Sunset muttered.

Moon Dancer meant to reply, before her hoof found the brake.

“This is it, the Red Roan Hotel,” Moon Dancer said.

From the back of the carriage, Wallflower’s eyes drifted back up to the window, and caught sight of the building in question.

A six-story monster, the Red Roan Hotel stood taller than every other building in Canterlot, save for the royal palace itself. Marble spires rose up wearing crowns of gold, tall enough to escape the dirt, grime, and smoke that thrived below.

Sunset grabbed Suri’s pouch of gold right from her hooves, reeling her off of the bench.

Suri snatched it back, and snapped back to reality, having just realized they had arrived.

“Wallflower,” Sunset called, while Wallflower was still marveling at the spectacle.

Wallflower slowly rose to her hooves, as Bon Bon and Moon Dancer trotted over to unlock the back door.

“You guys be careful out there,” Bon Bon said, “Rendezvous at Mandola’s. Or whatever’s left of it.”

“Keep an eye out for Lightning and Kickstart, they should be close by now. If Suri calls, assume something’s gone wrong. Got it?” Sunset asked.

Moon Dancer nodded.

Suri and Wallflower jumped down out of the carriage, and Sunset meant to do the same, until Bon Bon caught her by the shoulder.

“Those ponies up there are no joke,” Moon Dancer said, “If that kid is still alive, bring her back. Do you hear me? Bring her back.”

Sunset glanced at the ground.

“I will,” Sunset said.

Moon Dancer nodded her head, and waited for Sunset to jump down to the street, beside Suri and Wallflower.

Sunset caught Bon Bon’s burning red gaze through the door, right before Moon Dancer shut it closed.

Sunset sighed in the frigid night air, and glanced at Suri and Wallflower.

Suri reached for a cigarette, though Sunset promptly smacked it out of her hooves.

“Hey! What’s your problem?” Suri barked.

“I need you to focus.”

“That’s what it’s for!” Suri cried.

“Be careful what you say. We don’t know what we’re dealing with,” Sunset said, glancing up at the daunting tower.

“Don’t let them provoke you,” Wallflower reminded, “No matter what they say.”

Sunset nodded her head. “Alright. Follow me.”

Sunset led them towards the front gate of the hotel. The three of them were only somewhat disheveled, though compared to some of the ponies lounging in the lobby, they resembled the poster-girls of poverty.

Sunset led her companions into the elevator, and promptly pressed the button, trying her best to ignore the lingering stares.

“52nd floor,” Suri reminded.

The doors closed, leaving the trio packed together inside.

“You stepped on my hooves,” Suri muttered, glaring at Wallflower.

Sunset glanced at Wallflower, who was a good four feet away from Suri. Wallflower’s jaw hung agape, baffled as to how Suri could make such an accusation.

“I did not,” Wallflower insisted, “I’m all the way over here. How could I even reach you?”

“No, the other day, you stepped on my hooves. When we were walking to the grocery store,” Suri said, "And you still haven't apologized."

Wallflower shook her head in disbelief.

“That was over a week ago,” Wallflower scoffed, “And I did apologize, like twenty times!”

“But you didn't really mean it, ‘kay,” Suri scoffed, “You're a clumsy ape, that's what you are. You're probably going to make a fool out of yourself in front of all these ponies."

“You can’t just complain about things that happened days ago,” Sunset interjected, “These things have expiration dates. And don’t call her clumsy, you know she doesn’t like that.”

“The night before the gala she slipped in the shower. Four times. And what about the other day, when she ruined dinner and spilled chili all over Bon Bon?” Suri reminded.

"Don't laugh," Wallflower scolded softly, glaring at Sunset as she began to snicker.

“OK, so maybe she has some trouble with flexibility, wieldiness, and ordinary skill,” Sunset offered.

“That’s exactly what clumsy means!” Suri exclaimed.

“You’re missing the point. This happened a week ago,” Wallflower exclaimed, “I do not have a problem, for the record. I just get unlucky sometimes. Now, here’s our stop. Let’s get our game faces on.”

Wallflower took a step forward right as the doors began to open, only to trip over her own hooves. Sunset grabbed her before she could land on her face. Wallflower smiled, embarrassed, before the trio’s attention turned to the doors.

The doors slid away, revealing the red carpet, white couches, and the hanging chandeliers. Spared the wrath of the riots, the room rivaled the decadence of the royal palace.

The room was packed with ponies, numbering thirty of forty, clad in formal attire, sipping champagne and liquor, giggling over plates of appetizers and empty glasses.

Sunset took the first step out of the elevator, with Suri and Wallflower reluctantly tailing behind.

Sunset stood in place, and felt the blood rush to her head as pairs of eyes began to lock onto her. The crowd’s chatter diminished, and soon the entire room was all looking in their direction.

It was one pony who broke the silence, setting his drink down on a table nearby and excusing himself through to the edge of the crowd.

Wallflower recognized him, as with most of the partygoers, as former guests at the gala. This stallion in particular she recalled, handsome with a sturdy jaw and broad shoulders, a night-dark lion’s mane that swept against his shoulders, and a faint grey coat. He wore a suit with a red tie, and a thin pair of bifocals rested on his snout. He eyed the three of them with predacious intent.

“You’re early,” he smiled, before turning to the crowd, “My friends, do excuse me.”

A pair of armed guards appeared behind Wallflower, nodding for them to follow the sharp-dressed stallion.

Suri glanced at Wallflower, hesitantly, but followed Sunset’s lead.

The stallion led them through the crowd, as ponies slowly returned to their drink and conversation.

They found a refuge from the festive fanfare in a separate room.

The stallion stepped out of the way, waving them off inside.

The room was tighter than its adjacent mate, though was fixed with a wall-spanning window, revealing the dim luster of the city below.

There were a few ponies waiting in the room already. Wallflower recognized the stallion’s wife sprawled out on the couch. She was a golden mare with a bouncy lavender mane and seductive eyes, wrapped in a silky white dress. Beside her was Fire Streak, itching his nose, scratching out the irritation of stray cocaine fragments.

Sunset took a seat on the couch opposite to them, facing the window. Wallflower and Suri sat on either side of her, both nervously inspecting their surroundings.

Wallflower flinched at the sound of arguing by the door, and turned her head in time to see the stallion make way for two more guests. The first she recognized immediately, as the niece of Fancy Pants, Gilded Lily. a middle-school-age filly with big orange curls and a soft amber mane. A captive she might have been, though it was apparent she had been taken good care of. She bore no bruises, wore no cuts, and she appeared just as prim and proper as any of the other Canterlot patricians in attendance.

And behind her was a more shocking sight - a soft-yellowish white stallion in a dark-purple vest and black coat, and a great gaping hole where his left eye should have been. Wallflower turned away, fearful of staring for too long. The One-Eyed Pony led Gilded Lily to the back of the room near the faux fireplace, keeping an eye on her while the black-maned stallion shut the door.

“Sunset Shimmer,” the black-maned stallion cooed, making his way to the bar on the other side of the room. Fire Streak and the mare in the white dress were staring right at her, as if she was some exotic zoo exhibit.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” he grinned, while pouring his drink, “I’m Jet Set. This is my wife, Upper Crust. You’ve already become acquainted with our friend Fire Streak, somewhat. Yes?”

Sunset glanced at him, Fire Streak, whose slouching smirk annoyed her.

“We’re just here for our friend," Sunset said, "I want to see her."

Jet Set glanced over his shoulder, resentful of the tone she took, “My dear, you’re very much not in the position to be making demands.”

He turned around, grasping his glass in an aura of magic, and eyed her up and down with a slithering gaze. Sunset straightened herself in her seat, unnerved by the way he slinked across the floor.

“You and your friends have created quite the ruckus this past year. Some military ponies insisted there had to be more of you, a small army perhaps, to cause the damage you’ve done. But an army would pale in comparison to the power you wield. Your friends as well, I think,” Jet Set said.

“You’re the richest pony in Canterlot,” Suri said, “What could you need us for that you couldn’t do yourself?”

Jet Set’s eyes swept over the ground, as he bit at his tongue and gave a great sigh.

“Everything in this city belongs to me. One way or another. The beggars and newscolts and sneak-thieves in Eden, the dives and mills and dens, the jackrollers and circus acts, foreign beasts and lipstick harlots. Everypony owes me. Everypony pays. That’s how we’ve kept the order of things. But all it takes is one pony - one pony to topple it all. When the cards are all turned, when the house is shaken down to its very foundations, it becomes necessary to turn to more…unorthodox methods of self-preservation.”

Sunset leaned in from the couch. Fire Streak sat up in his own seat, and his eyes were still locked onto her.

“What do you want from us?” Sunset asked.

“You and your found-family of fugitives have been running for your lives for almost a year. When the chance came for you to jump back into the fold, my first inclination was to kill you all, put you out of your misery. But I couldn’t go through with it. Clawing your way through a world that doesn’t want you, it’s commendable. I want to give you the opportunity to clear your names. And I won’t ask for much in return, either. Just one job.”

Sunset glanced at Suri, whose ears had begun to perk up.

“The project,” Sunset guessed, “You want us to steal it for you?”

“Recover it, whichever way you deem best,” Jet Set said, leaning on the arm of the couch, sipping at his glass.

“I’m not so sure it’s a safe bet, working with ponies like you,” Suri reminded, “You killed our friend, in case you forgot.”

“Razor Blade was no friend of yours,” Jet Set laughed, “He would have made the same bargain I’m making, except when the job was over, he’d have left you all for dead.”

“And why should we expect any better from you?” Sunset spat.

Jet Set grinned, and glanced at Upper Crust.

“We want the same thing, by chance,” Upper Crust said, “Twilight Sparkle is your enemy. We have that in common.”
Sunset’s eyes darted between the two of them.

“Posh Paramount and Filibuster recruited us early on, to invest in the project, to keep ponies quiet, to make sure their cry for revolution went unheard by Twilight, Luna, Cadance, or any of their supporters,” Upper Crust said, “But Posh, she became impatient with the slow progress. Hurried along by that warmongering dragon empress, and that spineless changeling who feared their secret would soon be exposed, they all planned to strike earlier than we what we had prepared for. Twilight discovered their treachery, and….you may recall how things ended up for them. But we here were able to escape Twilight’s notice, and have worked tirelessly to do things right this time.”

“And you need the project to do it,” Sunset supposed, “...What is it?”

“Its contents aren’t your concern. Your friend’s life is,” Jet Set reminded.

“If you really want this little partnership to work the way you want,” Sunset said, “I’d appreciate an explanation as to what exactly we’ll be risking our lives for.”

Jet Set flinched, and the hint of a grin returned to the corners of his lips.

“Thousands of moons ago, Princess Celestia came across it - some relic of the ancient world, buried in a castle’s ruins. Its radiance, its durability, its mystery, all these things made it clear to her - it was not of this earth. She became obsessed with it, studying each and every part of it. The relic was one of great power, she reasoned, but spells had been placed upon it, leaving its true potential dormant inside.”

“A relic,” Suri repeated, raising an eyebrow, “What’s it do exactly? Raise the dead? Time travel?”

“Ancient magic is no laughing matter,” Jet Set said, glaring at her, “Whoever wields a thing like that, will have broken past these earthly bonds. It is a token of a higher power.”

“I studied under Celestia for the better part of a lifetime,” Sunset said, “How is it she never mentioned this?”

Jet Set laughed and drank up the last drops of his glass.

“Celestia ruled for moons and moons, always growing in power. There are ponies who still look up to her as a god. One does not find themselves in such a position without being able to keep secrets. And Celestia had a great many. The relic became her life’s work. But after years and years, after generations of scientists and spellbinders toiling over it, hope dwindled. She became increasingly paranoid, in fact. As though without the relic, her reign, even her life, would forever be vulnerable. She needed it, ever so desperately. And it just so happens that in our lifetime, we bear witness to the completion of a millennium's struggle. The contributions of one pony, Dr. Matchstick, got Celestia the closest to what she desired. He was able to access the true power of the relic…but that power was too raw, too volatile, too dangerous to be wielded without reducing Equestria to ash.”

“So it’s useless,” Wallflower supposed, “What’s the point in stealing it if nopony can use it?”

“Celestia was in a similar predicament,” Jet Set said, “Matchstick provided the schematics for a way to harness its power, a wand, it was, and Celestia wasted no time pursuing the necessary parts to build it. She spent years hunting down all the materials necessary, artifacts buried at the corners of the earth. She disappeared searching.”

Sunset’s eyes fell to the ground, while Wallflower shook her head, regretfully.

“Matchstick grew impatient, waiting in vain for Celestia to return. So he stole the project for himself, and plotted to sell it to the Black Hoof, a Manehattan criminal organization. The deal went wrong, however, and Matchstick was killed in the process. The project itself has switched hooves countless times, but has finally found its way back home, here to Canterlot. We will succeed where Celestia did not. With Matchstick’s plans, we have a chance to develop the means to harness its power, and control it.”

“And what if Matchstick was wrong?” Sunset asked, “What if there is no way to control it?”

“....I would rather not think on it. Sooner than later, Twilight will reduce Equestria to ashes,” Upper Crust said, “Of course there’s a risk that we do the same, but there’s a possibility we can stop her, and save Equestria from further calamity.”

“Somehow I doubt your intentions are as noble as you’d like us to think,” Wallflower said.

Jet Set smiled.

“Perhaps not,” Jet Set said, “...We’re not the first to dare to use the relic, to use it and destroy Twilight. Your own heroes - Ember and her league of rebels - it was their idea to wage war, their idea to rule Equestria, together as a united front. Twilight killed them all expecting the war to end right then and there, but there was no way around it. Posh, Ember, all of them - they had the right vision. But no sense of execution. We do not make careless mistakes. That is why I’m still deciding whether or not you’ll make better assets for us…or collateral.”

Sunset bit her lip.

“Who has the project now?” Suri asked.

“We’ve been informed that the seller is handing it over to Prince Malthos, the son of the changeling king,” Fire Streak said, “Your task is to find out where the exchange is happening, intercept the project, and bring it back here.”

“Do accept,” Upper Crust beckoned, “A better chance for your freedom will not come again.”

Sunset glanced at Wallflower, whose eyes led to the fireplace, to the One-Eyed Pony and Gilded Lily resting her eyes on the couch.

“We’ll do it,” Sunset said, “On one condition.”

Jet Set raised an eyebrow, amused.

“Humor me,” he smiled.

“Fancy Pants’ niece,” Sunset said, nodding toward Gilded Lily, “Let her go, hand her over to us.”

Jet Set hesitated. He eyed Sunset, and the beginnings of a grin came to him.

“Done,” he declared. Fire Streak narrowed his eyes, uncertain what madness had led Jet Set to such a conclusion.

“Darling, are you sure you should-” Upper Crust began.

“Quite sure,” Jet Set insisted.

Sunset rose from the couch, along with Suri and Wallflower.

“We’ll be keeping tabs on you, naturally. And, as for your friend, she’ll be kept in good care. You must understand, we need some sort of insurance against any thoughts of treachery.”

“Understood,” Sunset said.

Sunset led Wallflower and Suri back toward the door, until Jet Set cleared his throat.

“And Sunset,” Jet Set called out, “No tricks.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed, and she rose from the couch. Suri and Wallflower scrambled up beside her, careful to stay close by her side.

“Back at ya,” Sunset said.

Jet Set’s eyes never left her, as he clicked his hoof against the floor.

The One-Eyed Pony sprang to life, ushering Gilded Lily over toward Sunset.

Sunset glared at him, and then at Gilded Lily, who stumbled to a stop.

“I’m not going with them,” Gilded Lily barked, “Mr. Set, you promised me I’d-”

“-Be kept safe,” Jet Set said, “...All of us should be good friends now, my dear, you don’t need to worry. Sunset will take good care of you.”

Gilded Lily scowled, staring daggers up at the three of them.

“I want to see my uncle,” she groaned, “You told me he would be here today.”

“Yes. Perhaps he was delayed,” Jet Set mused, before glancing back toward Sunset.

“Follow the project, and once you wriggle it free from that wretched changeling’s hooves - be sure to keep it safe. Half of Equestria is after that thing, and will spare no expense to claim it.”

“It’s them who should be worried,” Sunset said, “We’ll get the project. But if anything happens to Scootaloo, you’ll never lay eyes on it.”

“I’m glad we have an understanding,” Jet Set smiled, “You and your friends have remarkable potential. I’m delighted to have you on board.”

Jet Set extended his hoof, and Sunset hesitantly shook it, before turning for the door.

“C’mon, kid,” Sunset muttered.

Wallflower waited behind for Gilded Lily to finally take off, only after Jet Set gave her a murderous glare.

And the four of them filed off back into the elevator, while Jet Set stuck his glass down on the coffee table, turning away from them to hide the smirk on his face.

Sunset stepped over a black crater in the sidewalk, before having to dodge a downed streetlamp that had crashed down into a storefront window. Gilded Lily was red in the face, shocked to be stuck with these delinquents.

“This is ridiculous,” Gilded Lily chirped, “How could they do this to me?!”

“Do you want something to eat?” Wallflower asked, offering her a bite of a granola bar she had in her satchel.

Gilded Lily swatted the bar out of Wallflower’s hoof, knocking it into a broken sewer grate.

“Oh,” Wallflower said, lowering her head, regretfully.

Up ahead, Suri caught up to Sunset, who was keeping a close watch on her surroundings.

“Not to question your famously keen and noble judgment,” Suri said, prancing over a downed mailbox, “But was it absolutely necessary to take the brat?”

"She's the heir to all of Fancy Pants' enterprises," Sunset said, "Fancy Pants is a liability, so Jet Set needs to get rid of him without losing Gilded Lily's support. We just did him a favor, taking her, and Jet knows it."

"Why doesn't he do us one in return and give Scootaloo back?" Suri asked, “And how do you think Mandola’s gonna take this?”

“He’ll get over it,” Sunset said, “Unless she keeps whining, maybe. We just saved her life, whether she knows it or not. Jet Set would've tried to take her inheritance somehow, and he'd have to kill her first."

“I’m guessing she hasn't picked up on that. She hasn’t shut her trap for the past two miles,” Suri grinned, “...If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you almost looked scared back there.”

Sunset glanced at her, scornfully.

“If that project is really what they say it is, then Jet Set is the last pony who should be wielding it.”

“A world-ending magical relic,” Suri said, “I’m not sure anypony should be wielding something like that.”

Sunset bit her lip, struggling to contain her smile.

“Oh Celestia,” Suri whispered, “Why am I not surprised. You want it. So, what’s your real plan?”

“We’re getting that project, alright. But there’s no way in hell we’re giving it to those blood-sucking suits up there,” Sunset said.

“It doesn’t matter whether it’s them or you. The way it sounds to me, whoever tries to use it is in for a rude awakening,” Suri spat, “Nopony’s ever been able to control it, that’s what they said. This isn’t the race for world domination they want you to think it is. It’s a race for who can get themselves killed first. There’s still some opportunity here, though, don’t get me wrong. These ponies are the key. A real chance to clear our names.”

“A real chance to sell out, you mean,” Sunset snapped, “We’re not mercenaries who follow the whims of tyrannical corporate thugs. Twilight Sparkle is still sitting on that throne. And it won’t be Jet Set who knocks the crown off her head. It’ll be me.”

“So you lied, right to their faces. We’re gonna double-cross them. For a second I thought you were beginning to wise up. But you still only care about sticking it to your old pal Twilight," Suri groaned.

“If I didn’t play along with them, they’d kill Scootaloo,” Sunset reminded, “Just like they could’ve killed Gilded Lily.”

“Yeah, you saved her, and I’m glad you did, it’s not like I hated how small my rations were already,” Suri said, “Look at us, Equestria’s Merry Mares, paragons of justice. Why don’t we go and rescue her drunkard uncle too, while we’re at it?”

“There’s not much we can do for him. Jet Set won't let him get away that easily,” Sunset said.

“You’ve just met him. How could you know that?” Suri laughed.

“Because I wouldn’t let Fancy Pants get away that easily, either.”

The moon sunk beneath its cover of clouds, and the stars in turn began to dim down, while the night drew colder, and colder still. There was vinyl spinning nearby, where the jazz quartet whispered their song into the dim hotel room.

Jet Set had a hoof on his fifth glass of the night, passively watching the city lights fade and follow and switch, while Upper Crust lay on his shoulder, on the brink of dozing off.

“You shouldn’t have let that girl live,” she managed through a yawn.

Jet Set hesitated to answer, sniffing up the beginnings of a cold, spinning his empty glass in his hooves.

“A vicious one, aren’t you,” Jet Set muttered, “Sooner than later you’ll want me dead as well.”

“Who said I don’t already?” Upper Crust smiled, tossing in his lap.

Jet Set grinned, just as the door to the lounge came open.

“Apologies for the interruption, sir,” came the One-Eyed Pony, strutting in through the door with some fresh blood stains on his coat.

He had not come alone.

Fancy Pants stumbled in behind him, trembling from head to hoof.

Jet Set recognized the stallion’s quivering breath before he even turned his head to see who had entered.

“He came with an armed escort. They refused to leave their weapons at the door,” the One-Eyed Pony said, wiping some more blood off his face, “The lobby is being cleaned and sanitized as we speak, sir, nothing they can’t handle.”

Jet Set gently lifted Upper Crust’s head off his lap, and planted a kiss on her head.

He rose to his hooves, and set her back down on the couch.

Turning to face Fancy Pants, a grin soon returned to his face.

“Fancy, I must say…Two hours late is gratuitous, even by your standards,” Jet Set laughed.

Fancy Pants could hardly breathe, forcing himself to stand up straight and meet Jet Set’s gaze.

“I’ve come for my niece. You told me she’d be here.”

“And she was,” Jet Set said, “You just missed her, in fact. Carted off by our new friends for safekeeping. If she was to stick around here any longer, I doubt my wife could keep herself from cutting open your niece’s throat. You know Uppy. Jealous mare, she is.”

From the couch, Fancy Pants could make out Upper Crust’s drunken giggle. His eyes returned to Jet Set, who had taken a step closer.

"Once, I had wished to keep these ponies at a distance. Too unpredictable, I had said. Now I see I was mistaken. You showed me that, Fancy. That Underground rat Razor Blade, before he croaked he told us it was you who reached out to him, that you wanted him to recruit Sunset and her friends on a rescue mission to steal back Lily. And even now, until the end you’ll try lying to me. We had to kill him and his goons because of you. And if we hadn’t done that, Sunset would never know who we are or what we’re after. But by telling them just about everything that they wanted to know, and directing them right to us, you’ve unwittingly given us our best chance at finishing the plan, once and for all.”

“I’ve told you before,” Fancy Pants said, gritting his teeth, “They’d have killed me!”

“Oh, Fancy,” Jet Set smiled, “You think your life is worth more to me than the future we’re fighting for? I had hoped taking your niece would provide you with apt motivation, but I see now I was wrong. Even now, you still do not share our vision. Vision of a new era.”

Jet Set sighed and trotted back toward the couch, his eyes darting back up to the lights below.

“One with consequences.”

Before Fancy Pants could muster up any more explanations or pleas, the One-Eyed Pony had arrived behind him with a knife in hoof, pressing it into his chest and slashing diagonally up toward his throat.

Fancy Pants’ throat erupted with blood, as the curses slipped out of his lips, muddled and muddied and murky. He choked and clawed at the air and crashed to his knees, glaring up at Jet Set with red eyes bleeding tears.

And Jet Set spared him a parting glance, catching him just in time to see that last slip of air squeeze out of his lungs.

Jet Set turned back to the window, sighing to himself as the record player scratched its way to its end.

Author's Note

Hey hope you liked this one! Thank you again for reading, feedback is always welcomed! <3

07: Crown of Thorns

The snows had stopped by the time Starlight Glimmer laid eyes on the castle, looming over the linen fields of white, glaring down at the Black Woods that kept watch over the road south.

The woods were slick from the morning drizzle, and the icy arteries of the forest had returned with the rain.

They had only just crossed up the Woodway, past the burned fields that had crumbled into ash. Deserters from the Crystal Army, Starlight suspected. They had taken the chance to raid and pillage the Highlands before the proper war could even begin. Starlight had searched for any survivors, or corpses even, but found nothing. Not in the huts or stables, not in the watchtowers or taverns.

“They’ve all fled south,” Eight Ball had presumed, “Outlaws chase them away, but they’ll be back. Below Haverford is where the real battles will be.”

Shining Armor would not succeed in defeating Twilight, Starlight thought. The only effect his rebellion might have is pushing Twilight further off the edge of sanity. The sickness, she recalled, the alicorns all succumbed to it eventually. So will she.

Starlight’s mane was soaked in the autumn rain, and some strands had become plastered to her forehead.

“Frostfall’s been abandoned for decades,” said Eight Ball, “Once, the Crystal Army used the castle to spend the night with their war wives or gamble away their wages. But all the soldiers have gone, so we shouldn’t find any trouble there.”

Eight Ball, as only member of the group to not wield any magic, had made an extra effort to prove himself as an asset. When he was not leading the way through the wilderness, he was keen on relaying every bit of information he knew about the lands they passed and its ponies. Luna’s only contribution to the road chatter was a grunt here and a sigh there.

Discord, meanwhile, had mostly given up trying to make conversation with Starlight, who was content to watch and listen as the group trudged on through the woods.

“No, it’s pronounced vin-cula fuel,” Eight Ball said, hopping over a log.

“Vincula fuel,” Discord repeated, slithering through the air.

“It’s one of a handful of substances that can withstand your magic,” Eight Ball explained, “But it’s a task to extract it from the earth, and it’s even harder to process it. There’s not much left in our stores.”

“Then I’ll sleep easy tonight,” Discord grinned, “I’d have thought Celestia would have kept your little program better-funded.”

“It wasn’t Celestia’s fault. Ever since the bugbear incident, the Senate had a harder time believing the Erased were a financial priority. Inefficient and mismanaged were the words Filibuster used, I think,” Eight Ball said.

“Maybe they wanted you out of the picture,” Discord mused, “So you wouldn’t be made privy to their treasonous schemes.”

Starlight rolled her eyes. Discord seemed to thrive off of drama, even things that did not concern him.

“We knew what they were planning,” Eight Ball said, “We could’ve told somepony, but Chief didn’t want to stir up any kind of incident.”

“A daring move,” Discord laughed.

“Won’t he be looking for you?” Starlight asked. She had trouble believing Alias would allow one of his agents to roam the hinterlands without leave.

“He’s welcome to try,” Eight Ball said, “I’ve given my life to serve the Erased, and so have a thousand more like me, but we were all just dirt under the Chief’s hooves. He hardly batted an eye when they told him Bandolier got himself killed following orders. He and me argued, except this time I got him so wound up that he sent me to Seaward Sholes to…..”

His eyes drifted toward Luna, further ahead on the road.

“I’m not following his orders anymore,” Eight Ball said, “I’m helping you because maybe the three of you have what it takes to end this once and for all.”

Starlight said nothing, reluctant to give him a sense of false hope. She had already failed once, after all, and even with help, she had trouble seeing how things would turn out any different on a second attempt.

Luna had come to a stop up ahead near the edge of a ridge speckled with moss and snow.

“The castle,” Luna said once the others joined her, spying the silver spires that peeked over the edge of the mountains some miles off from the forest. The woods were quiet but for the rain, and even the animals had all seemed to disappear.

“We’ll make it before sundown,” Starlight expected.

“This is a fool’s errand,” Luna muttered, “You do not know this wizard as I know him. He will fill our heads with his lies. That is, if he does not turn us away or try to kill us.”

“I once saw him turn a pony inside out, for snoring too loud,” Discord remarked, “The pony was his own apprentice.” The others did not find that comforting.

Luna gave Discord the same look she always gave him when he opened his mouth. Twice already, she had tried to kill him in his sleep, though Starlight had been able to intervene.

It had been Starlight’s plan to find Star Swirl the Bearded, the only pony who might have any knowledge as to the whereabouts of Princess Celestia. The old wizard had retreated into exile, though Eight Ball had been able to track him down to a spiked plateau buried deep in the Elestellian Range in the Crystal Mountains.

Luna took a faster pace than the others, unwilling to let them slow her down. Celestia was within reach, she seemed convinced of it.

“What do either of you know about alicorn sickness?” Starlight asked. Discord and Eight Ball exchanged a look.

“If you consider arrogance and stupidity to be a sickness, then yes, I suppose you could count the alicorns among the infirmed, ” Discord said. Eight Ball laughed.

“...The term comes from some apocryphal texts from ages past. A blight of the mind, allegedly,” Eight Ball said, “Alicorn magic is powerful. Some creatures can bear it. The ones who can’t….They crack.”

Their eyes wandered over to Luna.

“I think your experiments may have done more damage than you realized,” Starlight said, “The sickness is real. The former defense secretary told me that Celestia was showing signs of it before her disappearance.”

“It was the cause of her retirement, yes,” Eight Ball confirmed, “But Luna’s mind is not yet shattered.”

“She always had a few screws loose, as far as I was concerned,” Discord offered, “If poor Twilight’s mind should ever wander down a similar path…We’ll need every weapon at our disposal to stop her.”

“He’s right,” Eight Ball said.

Starlight kept her mouth shut. She did not want to think about Twilight Sparkle.

When they had reached Frostfall, Eight Ball was the first to collapse to the ground, eager to get some rest. Luna, as per usual, flew off away from the others to try and get some sleep. Most nights the princess of the moon could only toss and turn, tormented by insomnia. Her abilities to walk through others’ dreams had been tampered with during the Erased’s experiments, along with much else. Starlight recalled how Twilight spoke of Luna the first time she had met her. Nightmare Moon, she was called then. This new Luna seemed to fit that description more and more each day. She was sullen, hostile, and disoriented most of the time. Frequently, Luna had forgotten why she was here to begin with, who Starlight was, and why Discord was allowed to fly about freely.

Starlight found Luna perched by a ruin of the castle wall, overlooking a steep cliff below and the full moon holding vigil over the King’s Lake.

Luna was wincing as she strained against the pain in her neck, flinching and twitching like a dog left out in the cold. The scars and bruises on her body had still not quite healed.

“I wish you’d let me try the spell I told you about,” Starlight said, “It will help with the pain.”

Luna glared at her.

“Flea bites,” she dismissed, “I am fine.”

Starlight did not attempt to argue with her.

“There are spells I know that could help you sleep, too,” Starlight offered, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you lying awake all night.”

“The night is my domain,” Luna replied, sharply, “I do not need your help, Starlight Glimmer. No more than I did from Celestia.”

“What do you remember about Celestia, before she disappeared?” Starlight asked.

Luna seemed puzzled.

“Celestia?....There was an agony about her. That is what I remember best. Parts of me have been stripped away since then, that time when we were meant to live out our days in peace. All my life she had wanted that. And for a few months, it was ours. A lifetime of trials, for a single summer’s respite. I am not strong enough to go on without her. She left me alone in that prison. Why did she do that?”

“She made her choice. We can’t dwell on that,” Starlight said.

“Can I dwell on what I can’t remember? I was to hold a castle in the Highlands once, and there was a young lord the king had pledged me to marry, but I could not find that castle today. I could not tell you the color of his eyes, his hair, or how sweet his voice may have sounded. Then there was Canterlot, yes. But I could not tell you the names of its streets, or the color of its roofs, or of the songs that were always playing in the markets. Who gave me the crown, Starlight? What foods did I like to eat? The names fade, and the faces. Perhaps Celestia will make me see reason. She always has before.”

Starlight wavered. They would find Celestia, she was sure of it. Whether Celestia would be the same pony she once knew, however, Starlight could not be certain.

Only the pinelings still showed green; the broad-leaf trees wore new coats of crimson or gold, or else revealed themselves to scrape at the sky with bare branches of brown. Each breath of wind tossed the dead leaves across the old worn road, tattered with decades’ steps and wheel marks.

Juno kept her head lowered, in the middle of the chattel column, marching by the edge of some cavernous gorge. One pony had lost his footing a mile or two back, and he dragged three more with him before the linked chain could be severed.

Juno had not spoken to anypony in the convoy, not since she watched Hask’s skull collapse beneath Captain Coda’s hooves. She had trouble sleeping since then. It was some sick relief she felt, that and the fear of what Coda might do to her should she misbehave. She had never felt as helpless as when Hask had his arms around her, not since she watched her mother and father turn to cinders.

Coda never spoke to her about the incident. She was beginning to think he was finally beginning to believe her pleas of innocence, though she was too frightened of him to risk any more annoyances. The crack of Hasks's skull was still ringing in her ears, and the silence that came after, it made her stomach twist, the same way it had when Hask had tried to....She swung her head back and forth, trying not to think of it.

She had spent weeks on the road by now, clad in chains that pressed against her soiled cream-white coat, pressing so tight against her skin she felt a part of her was made of iron.

Her bouncy brown curls were littered with twigs, dirt, and lice, and she had developed a terrible shivering sickness that made her tremble with every step.

She had long stopped trying to guess where they were headed. South of Canterlot - that she was certain of. But how far south? She would have guessed they had crossed into some other land by now. The Badlands, or Augusta, or the Arimaspi lands maybe.

But the Macintosh Hills, which made up the southern border of proper Equestria, had remained a distant shadow in the distance. No matter how far they marched, those mountains never got much closer.

Of her fellow prisoners, she had witnessed Tails and Bender grow weaker every day. Boze was killed during Hask’s attempted escape. She recalled Boze’s tales of his mother’s recipes. Was any of that real? She hoped the recipes were, at least. All she ever ate now was sawdust bread and muddy water. Once she had manage to snag a grasshopper from the dirt, and had gobbled it up without a second thought. She had chewed on it as much as she could, savoring all she could before it was ground up into bits.

Stranger still, the convoy had not passed through any town as of yet. Juno suspected Coda was avoiding civilization, but why? There might have been more prisoners to collect. More mouths to feed, too. Perhaps she ought to have been glad they stayed as they were.

They were a lonely, quiet troop, it was true, with all matters of heart and defiance beaten out of them, beaten to bloody bits. That was, until they came across something even the prudent Captain Coda had not expected.

The camp spanned in and around the ruin of some ancient castle. An outpost most likely, raised within a small stretch of forest. These trees were all barren, she found, crooked grey fingers that twisted with the wind to watch them go by. Juno recalled her father having read to her about the ancient kingdoms that came before Equestria. Of heroes like Abraxius the Bold, Halberd, and Gusty the Great. She wondered to whom this castle belonged to, and how it came to such a sorry state of disrepair.

It had been abandoned until all too recently, she discovered. Here there were whole platoons of royal soldiers, clad in golden armor and iron mail, with broad shoulders and clean-shaven faces. The convoy drew eyes as they trotted along in. The sentries all seemed to recognize Coda, though did not seemed pleased that he was here.

“Who’s in command here?” Coda asked the first sergeant he found, throwing dice with a group of his comrades.

“First Tulips. Now Hawkbit, since he’s come south,” answered the sergeant, who spared Coda a cool glare.

Coda gave a sour scowl. He waved for one of his subordinates to lead the convoy on, while he watched them pass by.

There were hundreds, she thought, though she had never been great with numbers. They were camped by the walls of the castle, and deeper into the woods themselves.

“Two platoons’ worth,” Coda said aloud, having noticed Juno’s eyes scanning the hills up and below. He followed along with them then, walking beside her.

“You’d be wise not to start trouble here,” Coda warned her.

“I won’t run away. I told you I wouldn’t,” Juno said, glancing over her shoulder.

Coda glared at her, and she regretted having spoken at all.

“We won’t stay here long. Just enough to take on provisions,” Coda said.

Juno thought to ask where their true destination would be, but opted against it. She would have little luck wrestling an answer out of that one.

Inside the castle, the convoy came staggering along. Coda caught up to the front just as they entered the center courtyard. The grey ruin’s interior was cluttered with makeshift houses and tents, and Juno presumed this was where the higher-ranking soldiers got to sleep.

A pegasus stallion came sauntering out from one tent, scratching at his morning stubble and his dirty brown mane. He had a dull brown coat, but a handsome face so striking that Juno lost her balance at the sight. He wore silver armor unlike the others, speckled with mud and dirt, and a heavy grey trench coat hung over his shoulders.

“Captain Coda,” the pegasus said, eyeing Coda up and down. Some more soldiers followed him out into the courtyard, inspecting the motley convoy, “What in Luna’s name has brought the swamp stallion stumbling half-dead into my camp?”

“A want for water. Food and medicine too, if you can manage it. The roads have been unkind,” Coda said.

“Thought you preferred them that way.” Hawkbit spat at the ground.

Coda ignored the remark.

“What is all this?” Coda asked, “I thought you preferred the comfort of the capital.”

“That I do,” Hawkbit yawned, “Princess Twilight sent me south to remind the dragons of their oaths.”

“If that’s true, you’re in the wrong corner of the world, Lieutenant,” Coda said, rolling his eyes.

“It’s Commander, now. What good can we do against the dragons in their own country, in truth? Not much I reckon, not right now. The Great Plains are spent, Captain. That was plain, the second the dragons broke through pretty Periwinkle’s regiment of pin-up dolls. We can’t defeat the dragons in a forward campaign. But we can secure the lands from here to Everfree. We form a stronger line, a real defensive front, and the dragons won’t pass. That is, if they haven’t had enough blood already,” Hawkbit said.

“And what of High Water, Appleloosa, Dodge City?” Coda demanded, “What about all of the southern villages? You’re abandoning them? They’ll be slaughtered.”

“A hard sacrifice - the few to save the many, it grieves me to say. Some madness made them want to live right on the dragons' doorstep. If they’re wise, they’ll flee north. Or they can burn with the rest of the south, for all I care. They’re already dead, the way I see it. It’s the Lowlands that concern me, not the squalling southron sons of whores.”

Coda seemed to have heard enough, and turned to leave.

“I haven’t dismissed you, Captain,” Hawkbit grinned. Coda gritted his teeth and spun back around.

“There’s another prison convoy coming this way, en route south to the Ghostfort. I assume that’s where you were heading,” Hawkbit said, grinning.

Juno had not heard of such a place, though she did not like its sound.

“You’re to wait for them before you proceed south. Leave your prisoners with them. Then you’ll come visit me at my other camp up at Ashford, by the Ghastly Gorge. You know Everfree better than any of my ponies."

“You’re leaving?” Coda asked.

“Tonight. To prepare the rest of the line for the dragon’s arrival. We can’t have any weak spots or the dragons will break through. And then what will you think of me?” Hawkbit laughed and trotted off, leaving Coda behind with his prisoners, who were all staring at him with wide eyes.

Juno was not sure she would miss Coda, though she feared she would rue the thought.

She might not know how nice she’d had it.

Faint and far away the lights burned, low through the city mists. The princess watched them from her prison, counting them each in her head by color. Down the alley, Wayward Lane was a foggy waste, its very air seemed to churn a thick and murky charcoal black.

Silver Stream had only just returned. Her midnight escape had taken her to the Orange Light District again, a derelict den of the downtrodden, yet untouched by the riots’ wrath. Canterlot had begun to resemble its old self again. The chaos in the streets had grown into subtler, more organized resistance movements, six or more sprouting in each corner of the city. The havoc was deadlier than before, but not so sporadic or wanton. But it was not Twilight Sparkle who kept the city weak with fear.

“Dragons,” Sphinx had said. The street urchin had made Silver’s acquaintance over a week ago, accepting her grandmother’s necklace in exchange for her life. She could not recall exactly how she won him over, though eventually, Sphinx chose to treat her gently instead of demanding more tribute. Now he was her best source of information regarding the outside world.

“They’re coming to murder us all,” he had told her, “They say they take no prisoners. Anypony fool enough to surrender will make them a nice supper.”

Silver always took the boy’s tales with a sizable grain of salt. One of her best friends happened to be a dragon, and Smolder would do nothing of the sort.

Silver shut the window as if to block out the city itself, though only succeeded in repelling the rank odor of cigarettes, alcohol, and shit.

She was not to leave her room for any reason, not even to relieve herself. The bucket in the corner had sufficed for that. Her captors, or rescuers, she reminded herself, had made the rules clear from the first day they offered her shelter. All was not lost, however. She had the fortune of her harborer being a renowned restaurateur.

A knock at the door took Silver by surprise. No one was supposed to be awake.

“Miss Silver!” hissed Saffron Masala, sticking her head through the door, “May I come in?”

Silver sunk into her bed, her eyes widening. Had she been caught? She did not usually make careless mistakes. She supposed it was only a matter of time.

“Y-Yes! Come in!” Silver whispered back.

Saffron burst through the door, shutting it gently behind her. She turned around to glare at Silver, who had to laugh off her own nerves.

“You’ve been out again, I know you have. How many times have I told you not to do such a stupid thing!” Saffron whispered, careful not to wake her sleeping father a few doors down.

Coriander Cumin had considered turning Silver over the moment he found her, shivering in a wet alleyway, crying her eyes out, alone and helpless. But the stallion took pity on her, for whatever reason. He had never been particularly kind toward her, and often she wondered why he kept her around at all. Saffron was far warmer, and would even go so far as to give Silver the leftover portions from each day’s shift.

Silver had thought of returning to the palace, though she never forgot what Ocellus had told her. Anyone could be a changeling. Sometimes she even suspected Saffron and Coriander, though if a betrayal was coming, they were taking their sweet time of it. Silver did not want to go back, anyways. If the changelings knew they really had Ocellus, there could be dire consequences. And what was in store for her in the palace, anyway? A chance to be sold off as a broodmare to the highest bidder? That was precisely what her mother had dragged her so far from home to do, after all.

She had determined that it was not her person that was the prize, but rather her new royal title, and the royal fleet that came with it. Silver never wanted to be royalty. She preferred to idolize them from afar. The truth of it was not so pretty up close.

Pharynx wanted the hippogriff fleet to protect him in the new corner he had dug himself, content to plant himself in his own soil and wait for the opportune moment to join the winning side. Twilight may have wanted something similar - she thought of what Featherglass had said, that she’d be less a wife and more a hostage. What had become of Terramar? she wondered. Her mother?

“I’m sorry,” Silver said, focusing again on the moment, “But it wasn’t for nothing. That sewer tunnel off of Twinkletone, you were right about it. I climbed down and saw a speck of light far off at the end. I can make it quick enough, as long as no one’s on the other side waiting for me.”

Saffron laughed in disbelief.

“Going to the Orange Light District by yourself? Sometimes it seems you want to be caught, Miss Silver.”

“You’ve done so much for me, and I’m in your debt. But I can’t stay here,” Silver said, “They kidnapped my best friend! I have to get out of this city. I have to rescue her.”

“Mm. And what will you do? Take on the army of shapeshifter insects? I think not. Your friend took your place to save you. Do not waste your chance to throw yourself back into the lion’s jaws, after we’ve only just plucked you out. You are safe here.”

“Not for much longer. Soldiers are going door-to-door,” Silver said, “Now that things have calmed down, ponies will be looking for me again.”

“Whoever has you on their side, very well may win the war,” Saffron supposed, “But nopony will catch you, Miss Silver. We won’t let them.”

Silver sighed.

“I’m not supposed to let my friends get hurt to protect me,” Silver said, “I want to go home.”

“Sometimes I too want to go home,” Saffron mused, “In Farasi there has been no war in many, many moons. My father thinks we have worn our welcome here. The Equestrians have lost their minds, he says.”

“He’s not wrong,” Silver said, “Please don’t tell your dad.”

“I will not,” Saffron said, “But you push your luck, young lady. No more.”

“No more,” Silver agreed.

She lied through her teeth, and for a moment she thought even Saffron had noticed.

That tunnel was her ticket out of here. And then she could fly to Newport, find Sandbar and any other help she could muster, and rescue Ocellus.

“We should kill him and be done with it.”

Blondie glared at Salt, who had a strip of gauze wrapped over his shoulder, and a knife twirling around his hoof. Salt had not approved of taking Prince Malthos as a hostage, as he reminded them again and again. It was Rainbow Dash’s idea, in truth. She was still at the sink as she had been for hours, washing the blonde dye out of her hair.

“It’s not a bad look, y’know,” Blondie had told her.

“No,” Salt agreed, “But we already have one dumb blonde.”

The uneven stack of rotting tenements stood in the shadow of the railway that ran overhead Harmony Boulevard, spilling black rain runoff into the street with each shudder of the steel.

It had been a trial for Salt to convince Speedy to let them stay in his apartment, a cozy hovel lit by cheap candles, decorated with peeling wallpaper, and reeking of septic leaks.

“Have you lost your minds? You’re not bringing that thing into my home!” Speedy had barked at them. Poor Malthos had shrunk at the small stallion’s voice. “An army of changelings will be at my door next! That is if the Black Hoof doesn’t get here first!”

It had not sat well with Blondie, hiding in Speedy’s home like thieves on the run. Speedy had a wife around the same age as him, Pumpkin Pie, and three small foals - Ginger, Red Rust, and Nutmeg. Ginger had made a habit of following Blondie wherever he went, though he only minded when the girl began tugging on his legs, just to try and get his attention. All three of them had fallen in love with Rainbow Dash, who still had an easy smile to her in spite of the past few months. Salt Shaker seemed to frighten them all. Blondie couldn’t blame them. Sometimes the giant frightened him, too.

“A smart pony doesn't waste his best hand at the start of the game," Blondie pointed out, "Our royal friend here is worth more a lot of bits, Salt."

“Who are you ponies?” Malthos asked, possibly for the eighth time, “This farce will come to an end soon, do you hear me?! M-My father will have all your heads on spikes!”

Salt snorted, while Malthos wrestled in his restraints.

“Your daddy’s not here, young prince,” Salt snarled.

“As you can see my friend here doesn’t like you,” Blondie said, stepping between Salt and Malthos, “I’m the only thing stopping him from putting you back underground. Tell me about Menteuse. Tell me about the briefcase.”

Malthos snickered.

“It’s out of your hooves now,” Malthos spat, “Menteuse has made the final deal already, with me. You’re too late.”

“Nothing's really final until she puts the briefcase in your hooves,” Blondie said, “Where does the exchange happen?”

“At my wedding,” Malthos said, confidently, “In less than a month’s time.”

“Who’s the lucky bride?” Salt asked, “Some unfortunate leaf beetle?”

“Princess Silver Stream,” Malthos grinned, proudly.

Rainbow stuck her head out of the washroom, suddenly alert. Red Rust had his arms wrapped around her hind leg.

“You’re lying,” Rainbow said.

“My amulet,” Malthos said, gesturing toward the box of his confiscated belongings, “My father will have sent a message by now, demanding I return for the ceremony. Wait until he sees I’ve brought him the weapon to end the war, as well!”

Blondie glanced into the box, but found nothing resembling an amulet. Until, Ginger came tugging on his leg. She had the device in her mouth, a round black disc with deep green jewels embedded in its edges.

“Thanks,” Blondie said, retrieving the device and patting Ginger on the head.

“No doubt, she prays for my return. Every moment you keep us apart is agony. You’ll pay for this. You will!” Malthos snarled.

Blondie fiddled with the jewels, until the amulet came to life, coughing up wisps of smoky green magic that coiled and fought to create the shape of a pony’s head.

“My prince,” the green head said with a mare’s voice, “We have been betrayed.”

Blondie glanced at Malthos, whose smile had fallen from his face.

“Silver Stream is still in Canterlot. The one we brought was Ocellus in her stead.”

Malthos shook his head in disbelief.

“No…I saw…I took her myself. It was her. This is a trick!” Malthos stammered.

“His grace, your father, wanted to make you aware she is likely still in the city,” the green head continued, “If you can find her before the ponies do, he would be most pleased. I am on my way to provide assistance, my prince.”

Malthos screeched in fury, while Blondie shut off the amulet, unimpressed.

“Why would Silver Stream ever want to marry you?” Rainbow wondered.

“Perhaps we judged our friend too harshly,” Salt smiled, “He may have some charms buried away somewhere.”

“Doesn't matter. She’s gone, that’s what the head said,“ Blondie said, “So much for true love.”

“Blondie, you’re a pessimist,” Salt said, raising his hoof, “Even if you were free, your highness, you wouldn’t find her.”

“I’m more clever than you think, giant,” Malthos retorted.

“Well, you’ve fooled us,” Salt shot back, “But perhaps we could lessen your burden. Allow us to find your runaway princess, and return her to her darling betrothed. And as gratitude for our help in rescuing your damsel, instead of handing the briefcase to you at your wedding, Menteuse will be handing it to us instead.”

Malthos licked at his lips, hesitantly.

“I would have honored my father a great deal, if I brought him the briefcase.”

“Well. You can’t have your cake and eat it too,” Salt said, “The girl or the case? Or we could just kill you now and take the girl anyways, if you’d prefer.”

“No!” Malthos yelled, “Fine! The case is yours! But you have to fetch her now, before anyone else finds her.”

Speedy had entered from the other room, having just put Nutmeg to bed.

“No shouting. I mean it,” Speedy warned, sternly.

“My apologies, friend,” Salt said, bowing, “How is the little one?”

“The fever’s breaking, I think,” Speedy growled, “I don’t know. I’m no doctor. The bits you gave me should cover the medicine.”

“Better hers than yours,” Blondie said, glancing at the pile of shattered glass bottles that made up an entire corner of the room.

“Your friend talks more than he should, Salt,” Speedy spat, “I can only hope the same is true for my invertebrate guest.”

“We’ve come to an arrangement,” Salt declared, “Speedy, it might be you’ve heard the whereabouts of a hippogriff girl running amuck close by?”

Speedy gave a puzzled look.

“Hippos don’t come downtown. Their kind are all rich tourists prancing about the Marble Mire apartments, or else royal folk staying in the palace,” Speedy said, “Don’t want any hippogriffs around here, anyway. Gaia made ponies to breathe on land, not water. Those creatures, they’re not natural, I say. And if there was one around here, I don’t reckon they’d last long. No strange folks do.”

Rainbow grimaced at the remark.

“This girl’s life is in danger,” Rainbow said, “The sooner we find her, the sooner we’ll be out of your hair, Speedy. You’re sure you haven’t heard anything?”

Speedy scratched at his cheek, gritting his teeth. He shook his head in dismay.

“Some days ago, I might recall a Klugercolt tumbling dice near me in the Belly of the Whale, down Spring Street way. He made mention of a gutter rat who lives in the alley near his house, one who runs with that Manehattan mare, Dazzle Debutante, and her Thirty Thieves. He said the kid had been seen talking with a hippo, a girl hippo like you said. The two of them were running around in the dark, up towards Wayward. But Wayward is midtown, and me and mine don’t rear our heads that close to the palace’s shadow.”

“Wayward Lane,” Blondie recalled, “That’s not too far. We can make it back with the girl by sundown.”

“You won’t be the only ones looking for her,” Speedy expected, “If this girl really is some hot commodity, then Dazzle and the Thieves will know by now. They work for the Black Hoof now, Salt. They’ll want the girl too, to make the same deal you just did.”

“She won’t be hiding by herself,” Rainbow considered, “And she might not come to us willingly.”

“She will,” Salt assured, “She knows you, you said.”

Rainbow bit her lip.

“She’s my friend,” Rainbow said, warily, “She managed to get away from this guy, and you want to give her right back?”

Blondie had his own reservations, but waited for Salt to speak.

“The Black Hoof will be after her," Salt supposed, "So will the Thieves. So will the changelings. No matter where she goes, she can’t escape them all. The changelings will get her back, one way or another. And who are we to break apart two young lovers?”

Rainbow shook her head, unconvinced.

“You’re right about one thing, at least. A lot of ponies are after her. Let’s find her first, and then we’ll see how she really feels about this,” Rainbow said.

Salt nodded, and glanced at Blondie, who kept his mouth shut. Salt reached for his belt and sheathed his knife.

Fear cut deeper than the knife, Juno would tell herself, but that did not make the fear go away. The fear was a part of her routine, as familiar as the stale bread she ate and the mosquito bites on her legs.

She had thought she had known what it was to be afraid, but she learned better in that ruinous castle that was now her home. Every day on the road she had prayed for some respite, though now she would have given anything to return to how things were before, dragging her hooves on some treacherous path.

Six days she had spent at the castle ruins, and each day she had seen somepony die.

The former commander Hawkbit had left the same day she had arrived. Her and the other prisoners had been mixed in with another batch, and in the coming weeks, all of them were to set off together to some place called the Ghostfort. She had not seen Captain Coda in three days, and the last time she did he had ignored her anyway.

The new commander was the pony they called the Surgeon. Nopony seemed to call him by his true name, whatever it was. He was a huge grey stallion with a shaved head and black stubble, and a grim, gaunt face.

The Surgeon would come into the stockades every morning after his breakfast and pick a prisoner for questioning. Among the thirty-odd prisoners, none of them ever spared him a glance. They seemed to think that he would not notice them…but he saw them all the same and picked whom he liked. There was no place for them to run to, no trick to play on him, and nowhere to hide. There was no point in being brave. The brave ponies died screaming, the same as the cowards. There was no where to escape to, no where to be safe.

There had been a girl four years older than Juno who had spent a succession of nights in one soldier’s bed, though the soldier had spoken nothing on her behalf the day she was chosen.

An older stallion claimed to have served in the royal guard some twenty years ago. He spoke so often about the old days of Celestia’s reign and his loyal service, that most of the other prisoners came to despise him. He was chosen only yesterday.

A mother there was, sickly and thin, so frail Juno could scarcely imagine what crime she could have managed to commit. The day she had arrived she offered to tell the soldiers all she knew, if only they would release her daughter, who was a few years younger than Juno herself. The Surgeon answered her plea. The very next day he chose her daughter, and the mother’s screams became such a bother that she had to be picked too.

Each one they chose was questioned not far from the stockade, close enough for Juno to hear every scream, every snap, and, more importantly, the questions being asked.

“Surgeon makes them bleat so hard they shit themselves,” Chisel told them all. She did not like the way Chisel looked at her. It reminded her of Hask. He had tried to speak with her once, though Juno pretended not to hear. For some reason Chisel thought a mailed hoof to the face would help her hearing. Sometimes Chisel would help the Surgeon, and sometimes the Surgeon just liked to watch on from nearby, watch the prisoner squeal and scream until they died.

The questions never changed.

“Was there gold hidden in the Deep Wood? In Dangling? In Hilltop? Food? Gems? Where was Captain Vertigo? Which of the villagers helped him? Where is his army moving? When you last saw him, where was he heading? How many soldiers did he have? How many scouts? How many archers, how many infantry? How were they armed? Were there wounded? Who else have you seen? Dragons? How many? When? Where did they go? Was there gold hidden in the Red Gap? Food? Gems? Where is Captain Vertigo?”

Juno could have asked the questions herself by now, she thought. Each day a few dozen more villagers were brought to the camp to be questioned. They were not criminals, Juno realized, just ponies suspected of helping this rebel soldier Vertigo. The Green Army was what the villagers called him and his troops. She supposed Vertigo was green in color, or maybe he was just sick all the time. Vertigo had raised an army out of Irwind down south in Augusta, and was marching north to fight the dragons. That’s what these soldiers are supposed to be doing, she thought.

The royals’ efforts had not been in vain, despite most of the victims’ confessions ending up complete nonsense. They discovered some deposits of buried gold, some silver here and there. They learned that Vertigo had at least four thousand ponies fighting for him now, and was likely making his way through the Black Pass to cross the Macintosh Hills. Hawkbit would never send his troops that far just to put Vertigo in his place, she thought.

The Surgeon learned that Vertigo was as strong as an ox or was growing weak from the red plague. No one ever survived the Surgeon’s questioning. Not the strongest stallion or the youngest of the foals. The manner of torture would vary. His name must have derived from the strange instruments he used, she thought. Sharp things that seemed impractical at initial glance, until the Surgeon revealed the bizarre purpose they each had, to slice and sever and snap and pinch every which way. A tool for every part of the body. More and more corpses were strung up along the archway of the castle ruins, dangling there for the crows to feed upon. We are ants to him, Juno thought, each time she found the courage to glance up at the Surgeon as he passed by.

Juno knew she was no soldier, not like her father. Her father would never have let himself be knocked down and put in chains, nor stood by while they slaughtered all these ponies. Her father would never have sat quiet as a mouse in that stockade, or kept his head down along with the other prisoners. Juno hated the prisoners for their sheepishness, almost as much as she had come to hate herself.

On the eighth day, however, the killing stopped.

Some news from the front seemed to have reached the Surgeon’s ears, and suddenly the prisoners seemed to have better use as laborers than as crowfood.

“The greens were spotted at Redrain,” she heard Duchess mention to one prisoner. Duchess was one of the only mares she knew to be serving in the Surgeon’s company. She was pale blue with a paler curly mane, almost white. In the stockade, she was feared more by the colts than by the girls, as she was known to geld every male victim before killing them.

“The Commander wants a proper front line before the dragons reach us. Trenches and battlements, from here all the way to Everfree,” Duchess told them, “Each of you will have a task. If you cannot complete that task, then…”

Duchess did not have to tell them what the result would be.

Juno had shuffled meekly along with the others into the orderly row, as each prisoner was inspected and assigned a role.

She kept her eyes fixed on the ground, as she had become accustomed to, though she made an effort to listen in.

Until at last she came to the front of the line, to face Raccoon and Duchess and the short one, Dagger.

“Look at this one,” Raccoon laughed.

“Much too little to carry stone or wield a hammer,” Dagger shook his head, “To the dogs, I say.”

“Not enough meat on her for the dogs,” came Raccoon.

Juno did not lift her gaze, not until Duchess grabbed her roughly by the chin.

“A plain little thing too,” Duchess scowled, “If she was prettier the Surgeon would want her.”

“I know,” came Raccoon, “The archers would do well to have a moving target. She can run, can’t she?”

“Quick enough, I expect,” Duchess replied, and she seemed to like the idea, “Feed her first, then give her to Forest.”

“Wait!” Juno exclaimed, catching all three of them by surprise, “I can sew and mend clothing, and I can run mail here and there and help with food too. I can work.”

“You should’ve spoken up sooner, girl,” laughed Raccoon, “We’ve already found a good use for you.”

“You can practice flinging arrows on a rabbit, or a squirrel. They’re just as quick. Maybe quicker,” Juno said, grasping for words, “It’s no use anyway. Dragons fly, and I don’t, and they’re a lot bigger than I am. If your archers can’t hit a dragon already, practice is wasted on them.”

Dagger laughed. Raccoon was aghast, and raised his hoof to smack her across the face. But Duchess caught him first, and she studied Juno, who held her head up firmly.

A grin found its way to Duchess’ face.

“I like this one,” Duchess said, “Bring her to Foxy instead, and put her to work.”

The Giant’s Path was a steep ride up the edge of the mountainside. The rain had ended, and in its place came snow, thick and heavy such that the way ahead was a hazy veil of white.

“I remember when Star Swirl was still beardless,” Discord laughed, “Even then, he was a withered curmudgeon, who better excelled at scolding the youth and yelling at clouds than at banishing beasts or slaying foes. Though ponies will still say otherwise.”

“For such a suspicious mind, don’t you find it odd how you think everypony is a liar?” Starlight asked.

“I would, but I have yet to be proven wrong,” Discord replied, “Ponies love to lie, they just don’t like to be called liars.”

“Except you, right?” Eight Ball rolled his eyes.

“I am the most honest creature I know,” Discord declared. Starlight and Eight Ball laughed.

“You? You’ve never had a friend you haven’t double-crossed at least once,” Starlight said.

“I don’t hide what I am,” Discord smiled, “Can you say the same, Starlight? You may have forgotten what you are, but I haven’t. Those ponies in your old little village haven’t, either.”

“I haven’t forgotten a thing.”

Discord flashed his jagged canine tooth.

“Luna’s sincerity is beyond question. Our new little friend, the same,” Discord said, “You, however, I am beginning to have doubts.”

“You’ve always had doubts. But that didn’t stop you from saving my life,” Starlight reminded.

“Yes, but famously I’m kinder than I am wise,” Discord laughed, “Will my gamble pay off, Starlight? It will take all of us to destroy Twilight. But when the day comes, there will be no parlays or deals to be struck. You cannot slay a dragon with words. You cannot offer terms to a tempest. You faltered before. You cannot do it again.”

My friends are all dead because of what I chose, Starlight thought. Sunset, Lightning, Suri, Wallflower. And Trixie, she fought for me. They all fought for me. And I abandoned them. I abandoned them all.

Snow trickled out from a crevice up behind them. Up ahead, Luna had disappeared out of sight around the edge of the ridge.

Then the pony climbed out of his stick-and-stone shelter, hidden beneath last night’s snowfall.

The pony was a unicorn stallion, stocky and stout with a pudge nose wrapped in scarves. He was bundled up in jackets, his pockets filled to the brim.

Starlight, Eight Ball, and Discord came to a stop, staring down at him.

“What in the-...” the pony muttered, gazing up at Discord in horror.

“He’s a soldier,” Eight Ball determined, recognizing the patch on the pony’s jacket, “A deserter. Might have been with the ones that sacked Barrowtown and the other villages.”

“Who are you?” the pony demanded.

Starlight saw the glimmer of gold in the pony’s jacket pockets. Spoils from the villages he had raided, she figured.

His eyes were fixed on Starlight, and somehow she could tell some alarm had clicked in the back of his head.

“If we let him go he’ll tell the rangers that we’re here. Or the Crystal Army. Or Twilight,” Discord muttered to Starlight, “He has to die.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Starlight whispered, distraught, “No, he…We can’t. He’s-...”

“We can’t take him with us,” Discord said, “You have to do it. Starlight, do it.”

"No," Starlight said, "Are you insane?? I'm not killing anypony."

The ranger took a step backward.

“Wait….Starlight, I think he’s-” Eight Ball began.

The pony below ignited his horn, as Starlight's heart skipped a beat.

The blast tore through the air straight for Starlight's skull, but before her brain could be liquefied, Discord snapped his claws, and the blast abruptly stopped midair. The ranger's eyes widened, but before he could speak the blast of magic spun around and returned to its original speed, incinerating the ranger's heart on impact. Steam shot out from the charred flesh, dripping black blood into the snow.

The ranger collapsed, dead.

“Discord…” Starlight stammered, horrified.

"He was going to kill you," Discord said, "You're welcome."

“We need to move. Now,” Eight Ball said, hurrying back toward the road.

Starlight shut her mouth and rushed along behind him, avoiding having to look at the ranger's remains. And Discord lingered behind her, grinning all the while.

Her son’s armor was fresh from the forge, and it seemed to Ocean Flow that the weight of it pressed heavy on his shoulders.

Of gold and gemstones, Terramar wore none, but instead bronze and silver, thin and form-fitting, sleek to fight against the tides.

Ocean Flow fell deeper into her chair, bathing in the grey light that seeped in through her window. She hardly left her palace quarters any longer, but had not wanted for company, not while Terramar visited her daily, informing her of the news from the front, of the changelings’ movements and tales of Twilight’s temperament.

The queen’s mane was a mophead mess of tangled curls, twisting around black-ringed eyes and a furrowed brow.

Two weeks had passed since Silver was last seen, since her laughter could be heard from down the hall. Terramar was left to distract her, to little avail, as she went on to dread how fate might punish her family next. Her grief for Novo had not expired, and now her own children’s lives seemed near forfeit.

Ocean Flow was busy staring off into space, though made an effort to acknowledge Terramar, nodding her head along as he rattled off the latest news.

“...Oh, and, I should mention - Twilight is still trying to pay a visit, she’s told me to tell you that she’s been very busy,” Terramar said, “I can’t help but think she’s acting a little odd.”

“You’re not the only one.”

The door had come creaking open, and in came Featherglass, smiling as he slinked through the doorway. Terramar rose to his hooves, confused as to what the lanky earth pony wanted.

“Featherglass,” Ocean Flow said, perking up from her chair.

Terramar seemed wary of the pale yellow stallion, who he knew only by name.

“Your grace,” Featherglass smiled, “I only wanted to stop by and see how the two of you are doing. I’ve not forgotten the turmoil you both must be going through.”

Terramar hesitated, unsure how to respond. Ocean Flow straightened up in her chair, and seemed to be touched by the attempt.

“I’m very glad you’ve come,” Ocean Flow smiled, “Has there been any word of Silver?”

Featherglass smiled, and made his way inside.

“May I sit?” he asked.

Terramar moved out of the way for Featherglass to claim the chair he had been sitting in. And Terramar himself was forced to stand off to the side, keeping a close eye on Featherglass.

“The armor looks good on you,” Featherglass said, “That sword of yours, too. I only hope you don't have to use it.”

Terramar was reluctant to reciprocate Featherglass’ compliment, waiting until the pony turned back to Ocean Flow.

“Your daughter is safe and unharmed. I’ve been in communication with the changelings, and they’ve assured me as much,” Featherglass said.

“She is not safe as long as she is a prisoner,” Ocean Flow replied.

“There is nothing you could have done, your grace,” Featherglass said, “And Silver is as much a prisoner as the two of you are.”

Terramar glanced back at him, having been watching the door. Ocean Flow’s eyes narrowed.

“What do you mean?” Ocean Flow demanded.
42 Featherglass glanced around the room.

“The walls have ears, though I owe you both the truth, so let them all hear. Twilight brought you here as a hostage, your grace. She had Stonehoof recruit your son into the army to keep him in the capital. Both of you serve her as leverage for the fleet that follows your command,” Featherglass said, “With your daughter a prisoner of the changelings, it would be wise for you both to flee now, escape the city before Twilight makes it impossible.”

“Do you take us for cowards?” Terramar snapped, “We’re not going home until we have my sister back.”

“We cannot save her,” Ocean Flow said, “She is lost to us. Perhaps he is right. Perhaps staying here will only make things worse."

“There is a third way that may satisfy you both,” Featherglass said, “As long as the hippogriff fleet does not attack the changelings or their allies, then no harm will come to Silver. Elytra, the changeling princess, has confirmed this to me. If you will not try to escape Twilight, then you must earn her trust. Otherwise she will only ever see you as a piece on a game board, or worse, an enemy to be destroyed.”

“We could attack the green army,” Terramar proposed, “Destroy these rebels and prove ourselves to Twilight.”

“The green army is led by Lady Azimuth and her family, in all but name,” Featherglass said, “Your daughter’s affections for the Azimuth's son, Hydrangea, will be the grounds for a future alliance. Best not to jeopardize that.”

“You would have us ally ourselves with those rebels?” Ocean Flow stammered, “An alliance built off of my daughter’s childish dreams of royal court romance?”

“Wars have been won with less,” Featherglass said.

“It would be good to have friends besides Twilight, mother,” Terramar said, “...If not south, then we’ll go north, and join Snowfall Glitter. We’ll beat the imperials and Twilight will have hard proof of our loyalty. Then she won’t think of us as hostages, but as friends.”

Featherglass nodded, approvingly.

“Your son is wise beyond his years,” Featherglass said, “Once the empire is dealt with, the changelings will be the only enemy left in the north. And Twilight will gladly help you defeat them and rescue Silver.”

Terramar straightened his back, while Ocean Flow sunk back into her chair. And Featherglass could only smile all the while.

Her bag was packed to the brim with all she could carry, when her claw slid under the window lock, lifting open the latch. She could not say farewell, as much as she wished she could. Saffron and Coriander meant well, but this haven was safe no longer.

Silver Stream raised the window and climbed towards its edge, when she suddenly came to a halt.

Voices rang out from around the building, and hoofsteps followed. Seven pairs, no, eight. It couldn’t possibly be more. She heard a scrap of metal against stone.

I can’t leave Saffron, I can’t leave Coriander, she thought to herself. They’re here for me. Only me. They’ll throw Saffron and Coriander in the dungeons, and she’ll have left them there to rot. She had let someone else take the fall for her last time. She would not do it again.

The window slammed shut, and Silver threw her bag back down to the bed.

She burst out through her door and crept toward the restaurant portion of the building, peering out from behind a crack in a red wooden door.

They were not royal guards, as she had thought, but rather an ugly bunch of sharp-jawed stallions in grey, brown, and black. They totaled ten in all, and at the front was a pink stallion with a black mane and narrow eyes. The other patrons of the restaurant had wrapped up their conversations, staring up at the strange bunch of grizzly stallions. They all wore weapons around their waists, some tucked away, some out in the open for all to see. The pink stallion had a bandage wrapped around his right shoulder, and he winced with every step.

“Who owns this shithole?” he asked.

Silver could not see where Saffron was from the crack in the door. But she could see Coriander make his way from around the bar in the back.

“This is my establishment,” Coriander replied, curtly, “My friends, regretfully I inform you that parties of six or more require a reservation.”

The pink stallion laughed at that, and the others promptly followed him.

“We’re looking for a girl. A hippogriff girl. Your friends down the street were kind enough to point us in your direction,” the pink stallion said. He opened his hoof to sprinkle what looked like pink and white corn pellets to the ground. Silver’s brow hardened, until she realized it was teeth that now decorated the carpet of the Tasty Treat, “I asked them nicely, to begin with. I’ll show you the same courtesy. Where is the girl?”

If Coriander was alarmed, he gave no sign of showing it. He made no movement for what felt like hours, before waving to a table nearby.

“I am a businesspony,” Coriander said, “If you want to do business, let us discuss it.”

The pink stallion smiled. He motioned for his friends to remain where they were by the front, and took his seat opposite to Coriander.

But one of the nine had followed him along, some magenta mare with huge curls of gold, deep blue, purple and pink. She wore a hot-pink trench coat and matching pink leather boots.

The pink stallion shot her a look, but said nothing. The mare was pretty, a strange sight amidst her companions, but had a hard glare to her that made Silver nervous to look upon.

“You know who we are,” the mare presumed. The other patrons of the restaurant gradually returned to their conversations, albeit hesitantly.

“I know you are the Debutante,” Coriander said, pouring the three of them some chai from a hot pitcher, “And this one, I can only assume he is one sent by the Black Hoof, the ones who rules Manehattan.”

The pink stallion smiled.

“That’s right,” he agreed, “I'm not from Equestria either, you know.”

Coriander raised an eyebrow.

“Basalt Beach. Not so far as Khajaana, like yourself. Or…Farasi, more precisely?”

“You have a good ear for accents,” Coriander smiled.

“That I do,” the pink stallion agreed, “And for lies, as well. You and I were once strangers to this land, and now we are to bargain over the key to its future. What made you protect the girl?”

“Mercy,” Coriander replied, “She was scared, cold, alone. What would you’ve done?”

“...You protected her well, these weeks," Hellcat said, "But you can not protect her forever.”

“No. But perhaps a bit longer,” Coriander said.

The pink stallion flinched.

“Maybe I misjudged you. I thought you could be reasoned with.”

“I can be. First tell me, how did you know to look here?” Coriander wondered.

The pink stallion glanced at the Debutante.

“She’s made a habit of wandering the streets by night, in search of something,” the Debutante said, “My streets.”

Coriander nodded. He sighed through his nose, and Silver could feel his disappointment.

“I told her to stay put,” Coriander sighed, “I had warned her that it is the Thieves who reign now, and it will be the Thieves to hand her back to the insects.”

The pink stallion twitched.

“The Black Hoof is not an enemy you wish to make,” the pink stallion warned.

“Crozer was the Black Hoof. You are a speck of dust living in his shadow. I will speak to the Debutante. I see five of her ponies there behind you, and only three of your own."

The pink stallion bared his teeth.

“She works for us,” the pink stallion roared, “Tell me where you’ve hidden her. Or I’ll carve up your daughter and feed her to you in tomorrow’s stew.”

“You will do no such thing,” Coriander laughed, “You are in Canterlot. Not Manehattan. I have friends of my own. And perhaps the Debutante will be wise enough to see that she might not need the ghost of Crozer looming over her any longer, not when a sweeter deal awaits her and her alone.”

The Debutante’s mouth hung agape, and she seemed shocked by the proposition. Behind her, the thugs in black, grey, and brown had all grown restless.

“The whore and her orphans belong to us,” the pink stallion said, “You will answer to us.”

Coriander sat back in his chair, smiling to himself.

“Perhaps,” Coriander said, “I think you must answer to her, first.”

The Debutante’s knife brushed against the pink stallion’s neck, and might have cut deeper if he hadn’t fallen backward to dodge the strike. The Tasty Treat was a madhouse of blades and magic, as the Thieves and the Black Hoof ponies threw themselves at each other, all while Coriander ushered the other patrons to safety in the kitchens.

Silver smiled ear-to-ear, before realizing her chance still awaited her.

Darting back to her room, she scooped up her bag and made for the window, but stopped when the door flew open again.

“Miss Silver!” cried Saffron, who had tears running down her cheeks already.

Silver glanced back, her head half-stuck out the window. Saffron laughed and wiped her eyes.

“Good fortune to you, Miss Silver,” Saffron said.

Silver smiled and nodded, before jumping down below.

She fled out down the alleyway, the way she had memorized a thousand times, only to be caught short at the edge.

Three ponies blocked her escape, but her eyes focused only on the one in the middle.

“Rainbow Dash?”

It was never truly dark in Star Swirl’s chambers.

Candles danced beside pockets of stained glass around the dwelling, gleaming green, gold, red, and purple. Glass vessels of bubbling liquids and exotic powders were stacked haphazardly in shelves and worktables. In the hearth, a fire kept burning day and night. Outside, the midday snow came heavy, piling against the window glass.

Star Swirl closed his eyes and whispered a prayer, then opened them once more to peer into the fire. Just one more glance. He had to be sure of what he saw. Many a spellbinder and sorcerer before him had been destroyed by false visions. They only saw what they wanted to see. Twilight Sparkle was fighting a war on two fronts, she who carried the fate of the world upon her shoulders. The prophesied one, the savior. Had she gone to battle? Show me Twilight, he prayed, Show me the princess.

The visions bent and wove not unlike the flames of the candles, gold, crimson, sometimes purple, blue, and green. They flickered and fell upon one another, colliding and contorting into queer shapes that both seduced and terrified. Faces without eyes, he saw, and a purple dragon writhing in a green harness.

A pale girl with a head of stubble stumbled through black snow, and a foal’s crying came from somewhere close.

A great arena of red sand and bronze statues came next, dripping wax. No, it was blood, he realized. The blood collected in the sea, where the ships were waiting. Where were they going?

On the other shore, there she was, he found her. Twilight Sparkle appeared older than last he had seen, and he may have taken a closer glance, before something caught his eyes above her. A brilliant blue comet, tethered to the crescent moon, crashing toward the earth. Toward me, he realized.

He was frozen there, as the comet fell to the earth. And he may have expected it to crush him, if the sound of shattering glass had not startled him so badly he nearly collapsed right into the fire.

Star Swirl spun around, stroking his beard and rubbing at his eyes.

Outlaws. Bandits. Crystal Soldiers.

No, he realized, no, he remembered now.

“Gibbs!” Star Swirl bellowed, swinging madly from the fire, “Gibbs!!!”

More crashing came from the adjacent room, and Star Swirl’s horn ignited.

He teleported there in an instant, flailing his forelegs in dismay.

Gibbs was there, the bald-headed brute he had raised from a coledigger to one of his engineers. This was one of his many workshops, and at its center was the great furnace that could channel a particular kind of magical extract, necessary for the finishing touches on the wand. The wand, that had taken him two years now to perfect. And right then, those two years very well may have been for nothing.

“Fool! Blind bloody fool! The compactor! Release the valve on the compactor!”

Star Swirl had despised modern technology upon his arrival in the modern age, though he had gradually come to appreciate its charms. That is, when it was being operated competently.

“Not that way! The other way! Right! Not left!” Star Swirl yelled, clawing at his beard restlessly.

Gibbs was trying his best, Star Swirl could grant, as he wiped the sweat and ash off his face. The stallion’s work ethic could not be questioned, which was more than he could say for a certain other pony.

“Where in the stars’ name is the boy?” Star Swirl roared, right as Gibbs finished tightening the valve.

“Here, sir,” came Quasar, the shaggy-haired lad of twelve years.

“Thanks for the help, master apprentice,” Gibbs muttered.

“You were supposed to keep things in order here,” Star Swirl reminded, sternly. This was his first apprentice in a thousand moons, and he proved more unruly than any other he had ever suffered before.

“I would’ve, but Yona made mention of some trouble down the Giant’s Path. If that were true, we might need to be concerned,” Quasar said.

Star Swirl scowled. He had accepted the yak girl as a gift from the Crystal Empire some moons ago. Prince Rutger had feared for her safety, and she would be safer here with him in his lonely little cottage than in Yakyakistan, where the former prince had been assassinated. The girl made better company than Gibbs or the foolish boy Quasar, that was true, and her cooking was far better than anything he could conjure up himself. Still, she was too fond of rumors, and paid too much attention to the happenings of the nearby villages.

Star Swirl recalled his vision, and the comet and the moon.

“Are we to have battle?” Quasar asked. Star Swirl had told the boy of the risks he would be taking, living with him in the Crystal Mountains. War had broken out all around them, and there was no place one could truly call safe.

“Not if it is who I expect it to be,” Star Swirl said, “You will be a fool to draw a weapon, or even open your lips without my leave. No. There will be no battle. Not with us.”

Glimpsing into a grey-green puddle, Juno did not recognize her own face.

She may have been spared a trip to the kennels or to the volley field, though not without cost. It had taken three soldiers to hold her down when they cut her mane. She watched her bouncy brown curls tumble down into the mud, and now her scalp was left a coarse mess of stubble atop her bare coat.

Not my hair, she had meant to scream, Mom loves my hair.

The words had never left her mouth, nothing but the stupid squeak she made when she was scared.

The prisoners were no longer idly awaiting their execution, though she had not expected their captors to treat them much differently. In some respects, their newfound freedoms had put them in greater danger than before. A single misstep might cost a pegasus his left wing, or somepony else his eye. A nose here, a horn there, quite a few tongues. Juno had only lost her hair so far, and only because a soldier ran into her and spilled her pail of well water. They had been careless with the knife, but thorough. There were no wisps left at all, though there were some scrapes and cuts where the jagged blade had cut too deep.

She had much to be thankful though, she reminded herself. Two days ago she had seen Bender nailed to a wooden post over the northern causeway. She recalled the stories he had told her during their brief companionship, of all the desserts he could bake and how he came to know them. He was a thief and a liar, it was true, but he never tried to touch her like Hask did. It was Hask who deserved to be up there, not Bender.

That left Tails, who she only got to see at dawn and dusk. All day he was sent miles out from the castle to dig the trench line and carry off supplies to build fortifications. Tails was not much older than her, but he was strong. Strong enough to finish his work each day, and smart enough to keep his mouth shut doing it. It was him who had run into her at first, and Juno had wanted nothing to do with him.

“You’re a thief,” Juno told him, “You lied. I wish I’d never met you. I’d be in Canterlot already, I’d have found Sunset Shimmer.”

“I thought Hask really meant to take you with us,” Tails said, “I didn’t know….I should have known,and I’m sorry.”

Juno had not given him a reply, and had instead marched off, sullenly. But she had found him often since then, most of the time to check if he was still alive. Everyday less and less of the workers returned. She dreaded the day she found Tails nailed to the post beside Bender.

There was only one other pony around her age left in the castle during the day, a portly earth pony with a bushy brown mane and beady eyes. She was not sure how he had maintained his girth, given the weeks of starvation.

Poundcake was his name, and he had been stuck in the kitchens.

“They told me I must be experienced,” Poundcake had told her, “I’d much rather be out there digging. I’m as strong as an aurochs, y’know.” Juno did not like how he complained all the time, and she liked even less the name he called her. Cueball. It was only when he saw the tears in her eyes once that he finally stopped.

Juno had caught him stealing food once, but swore to tell no one, as long as he stole a little extra for herself.

Everything she got from Poundcake she had begun to give to Tails, who she thought needed it more than her. She might have been running around all day, but it was Tails who was breaking his back in the heat miles out in the wildlands.

“This doesn’t mean I like you,” Juno insisted once, after sneaking him a bushel of apples, “...Please don’t die.”

Tails smiled.

“I won’t.”

Juno’s job was far less arduous than the laborers, though around camp, she had made herself invaluable. She had no choice, she thought, lest Duchess finally decide that Juno would make better dogfood than she would a servant. She scrubbed the commanders’ tower hall and swept the stone walks. She delivered letters and mail and summons, and served as the cupbearer to the Surgeon himself.

There came a day where some commotion had stirred up in the camp, and the Surgeon had ordered her to fetch his subordinates. Coda, she thought to herself, I’ll get to see him. Coda rarely attended the meetings. He did not care for the Surgeon or his pet rats, that was plain. On that we agree.

She darted down the halls of the castle and found each one - Raccoon, Duchess, Surly and Hex. Coda was not in his chambers, to her dismay, though she had little time to search for him.

She checked the storeroom, and the masonry, and finally the western tower chamber. There were six soldiers there, none of whom paid her any notice. She had turned so pale it was as if she phased right into the walls.

One of them might know where to find Coda, she thought.

Chisel lay by the hearth, half-awake with a horn of ale hovering in the air. He was telling one of his many stories, and Juno dared not interrupt.

“I was there at Bitterbite, I was. We fled west when we saw the dragons tear right through the garrison as Desiree. The Velvets were all lost, that’s what Surgeon said,” Chisel was saying, “We were on ours way here, nine of us with the Surgeon. Raccoon was with me, and that boy Stills, he’d been with the Surgeon before. Well, we run up on the Grand right after that night’s rain, and it’s running so high we can’t cross it without getting swept up downstream. But there’s this crofter’s hut not too far, so we came there to hunker down. Surgeon grabs the crofter and tells him keep our cups brimmed till the rains calm, and the old horse is grinning ear to ear when we show him our gold. So he’s getting us the ale, him and his daughter, and it’s hippo piss if I’ve ever tasted it, which don’t improve our mood much at all. Surgeon even less. Crofter won’t shut his mouth, blabbering on about this and that, while the Surgeon sits there still as stone. He was raw about leaving the line, y’see. Thought Hawk might’ve called us craven. Surgeon wanted to spill some dragon blood, we all did, but….if you saw how many there were, you’d have done the same,” Chisel scoffed and choked on his ale. He wiped his mouth and continued, “But this daughter of his is quiet. Surgeon has that effect, I think. She pours and smiles and stays out of the way, the little lady she was. Not much to look at, in truth. But Hal’s had too much and puts a hoof where he shouldn’t, and would you believe that I did too, and Raccoon’s barking to Stills that the boy should take the girl right then and there and prove himself a stallion. So Stills....hey what the fuck are you looking at?"

The six soldiers were all turned towards Juno, who had frozen up by the doorway. She watched and watched and waited in silence as Chisel stared her down, and she thought of Hask then and quickly turned to run, and she left him where he was, scurrying back down the stairs.

Juno fled back to the commanders’ tower, just in time to find Coda by the door.

“You’re out of breath,” Coda remarked.

“I was looking for you,” Juno said. She wished she could confide in him about the things she’s heard, and the things she’d seen, but Coda seemed to not wish to hear.

You saved me once, she thought, Is it too much to ask you to do it again?

Opening the doors, all of the lieutenants were already inside, seated around a great stone table. The window at the end of the hall was stained red by the candlelight, behind where the Surgeon sat.

“Girl,” the Surgeon called, “Wine. Quickly.”

Juno lept to the task, rushing to the pitcher and the cups nearby the door, on the serving ledge. Coda had taken his seat opposite to the Surgeon, who seemed irritated with the captain’s tardiness.

“Vertigo’s army is a few miles away from High Water,” the Surgeon said, “If he succeeds where we failed, it will make the crown look weak. I shouldn’t have to remind you how that will sit with Princess Twilight.”

There was an uneasiness about the group at the mentioning of Twilight’s name. What kind of pony could make them afraid? Juno did not wish to think on it, as she made her way about the table, pouring slowly and carefully.

“The dragon army has split in three. Sear, Sawtooth and Revel sharpen their claws at the Red Teeth. Blacktip and Razer lead a force to take High Water, and the third marches our way, led by Cinder herself,” the Surgeon said, “She’ll take Appleloosa without much resistance. Our job is to keep her from touching Ghastly Gorge.”

“The line won’t be ready by then,” Raccoon reported, regretfully, “But we still have time to prepare. We can’t afford to lose a single pony.”

He glanced at Juno, who shrunk back into the shadows.

“The prisoners stay with me.,” the Surgeon said, glaring at Coda.

“I was charged to take them to the Ghostfort,” Coda said.

“We need bodies more than the Ghostfort needs cells filled,” the Surgeon growled, “Is that why you’ve lingered here for days on end? You were supposed to join Hawkbit up north. Instead you stay here, to protect them. No?”

“Yeah, and I’ve done a sorry job at it. I’ll be leaving here with half as much as I came with.”

And those ones aren’t in one piece, either, Juno thought.

The Surgeon laughed.

“You soft mewling fool,” the Surgeon said, “Everything Hawk told me about you was true. If we didn’t need them, I’d put the rest of your prisoners to the sword. I have half-a-mind to send you into the Plains to chase after Vertigo. I wonder who’ll kill you first, him or the dragons?”

“Either would be more pleasant than stomaching you any longer,” Coda said, rising from his seat.

He turned to trot out the door, and Juno slowly followed after him. The Surgeon was too enraged to call after her.

“Take me with you!” she whispered to Coda, catching him further down the hall, “If you must go north, take me, please! Don’t leave me with them.”

She grabbed him by the leg, though he did not move.

Coda glanced at her, and his mouth tightened.

“No,” Juno whispered, “No…”

Coda trotted off, leaving her in the dark once more.

She hardly spoke to anypony after that, not to Poundcake when he waved to her by the pantry, and not to Tails when he returned from the line.

“Did you eat today?” he always asked.

She did not answer, though, and continued along toward her barracks. But she never reached them, not before Duchess found her.

“A prisoner’s just arrived, and the bitch needs to be fed and given water. I don’t care what hour it is. Get to it, now.”

Juno nodded her head, and returned to the pantry to collect bread, fruit, and water.

“Who’s the bloody banquet for?” Poundcake asked, “That could last me a week, it could.”

Juno would have given her usual jape, but she was in no mood.

“Since when did you know how to shut up?” Poundcake laughed, “Wait, I’m sorry, c’mon, come back! Ah.”

Juno carried the basket over to the stockades, which had been empty for days now. The prisoners-turned workers were now kept in tent barracks, which certainly beat having to sleep in one’s own filth.

She found the prisoner there, hidden away in the darkest cell that stood under a looming castle arch. In the dark of night, the pony was scarcely a silhouette.

Juno set the basket down in the cell, and waited there, though the pony did not budge.

“Pardon me,” Juno said. The pony had appeared to be sleeping, “You’d better eat.”

The prisoner clawed her way forward, inspecting the basket.

“Thank you,” the prisoner said. She had a sweet voice, turned-raspy from what had to be tears.

The pony was pink in color, with a flowing pink, blonde, magenta mane, and a horn as well, all soiled in mud. She was a unicorn.

Sunset Shimmer is a unicorn.
“What’s your name?” Juno asked, and she felt her entire body tense up. Could this really be her?

The pony glanced at her as she scarfed down the food and slurped up the water like a stray dog.

“You’ve done your job, little boy. Now leave me alone.”

“I’m a girl. Tell me your name. If you don’t, then I hope you enjoyed your last meal,” Juno warned.

The prisoner eyed her.

“Mi Amore Cadenza,” the prisoner said, bitterly, “My friends call me Cadance.”

“Cadance?” Juno repeated, “They named you after the princess?”

Cadance laughed.

“What are you doing here, little girl?” Cadance asked, “And where are we? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t mind. But the others will. Did you see the bodies up on the wall?” Juno asked.

“I did.”

“They liked to ask questions too. We’re in some castle, I don’t know its name. West of Appaloosa, north of the Macintosh Hills. It’s at the southern foot of the front,” Juno said.

“Front? Who are we fighting?” Cadance wondered.

Juno balked at the question. Who weren’t they fighting?

“Have you been living under a rock, Miss Cadenza? Dragons, changelings, southerners, northerners. Everypony’s fighting everypony, really. I couldn’t tell you why,” Juno said.

Cadance suddenly came to life, rising from the ground to sit up straight.

“Northerners?” she stammered, “The Crystal Empire is at war?”

“The princess’ brother is leading them,” Juno said. She had heard the Surgeon say as much.

Cadance seemed on the verge of tears.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you-...” Juno said, stepping closer to the cage, “I’m sorry for however you ended up here.”

Cadance laughed at her own despair, and fell back into the stockade wall, wiping her eyes.

“You’re very kind,” Cadance said, “Look at you. You should be at home, not here, not in this place. You’re just a foal.”

“I am not,” Juno rebuked, “....My home’s gone. My family’s gone. I went searching for the pony who took them all away. Sunset Shimmer. I almost thought you were her.”

Cadance shook her head.

“Sunset Shimmer? She’s a hard one to mistake,” Cadance said.

"Do you know where she's gone?" Juno asked.

"She was last seen in the Crystal Empire," Cadance said, "I've heard that her friends are causing trouble in Canterlot."

Juno nodded. The Crystal Empire.

“I understand how you feel…” Cadance realized she did not know the girl’s name.

“Juno,” Juno said.

“Juno, I truly do. But you won’t bring your home back by finding Sunset Shimmer. You won’t bring your family back.”

“I know that,” Juno said, “But she has to pay for what she did.”

“She will. But must it be by your hoof?” Cadance asked, “I have a daughter, much younger than you. Back home. Back in the empire. If she was old enough, she might have done the same as you’re doing. Ran off to win a foolish war, to have vengeance, to save the day. All we can do is save who we can, and make right what we can. And know that I would give anything to see her safe again, just as I know your mother would want for you.”

My mother’s dead, Juno wanted to say. But she was sooner struck by the longing in Cadance’s voice, and only then did she notice the pair of wings hidden in the dark. Realization overcame her.

Juno fell to her knees and bowed her head, eyes wide with terror.

“You really are Princess Cadance!” Juno realized, “I-I didn’t know, your highness, honest, I didn’t.”

Cadance smiled, and knelt over to lift Juno back up to her hooves, through the bars.

“You should go to bed, Juno,” Cadance advised, “I'll sleep better knowing that you get a night’s rest. I can’t know as much for my own daughter. It may be too late for her. It already is for me.”

The royal council chamber had more chairs filled than usual that day.

Twilight Sparkle had expected as much. Six days ago she had tasked Marius with assigning shadows for every member of the council, the ministry, and the executive committee. By now they all should have noticed.

She stopped in the doorway, her eyes passing over each one of them. Archangel, the defense secretary, stood next to Twilight’s chair. He liked to think that he could oversee this war better than I could, Twilight suspected. Wedge and Marius were opposite to him, both exhausted from the work she had given them the night before. Some senate committees had been plotting an escape from the city, she had discovered, and it had been Wedge and Marius’ task to have them arrested without anypony noticing.

Lieutenant Redshift was here too, to Twilight’s annoyance. She had no real place here, though undoubtedly she had begged Wedge to let her attend, if only to curry favor back from Twilight after her last failed mission.

Towards the other end of the table was Bone Marrow and Veto, and Featherglass, with those eyes that always smiled, and beside him was….

“Lady Lavender,” Twilight said, raising an eyebrow, “What an unexpected pleasure.”

The last time that name had crossed Twilight’s lips, it had been to commission an assassination attempt. That street urchin Clover had botched the job, however, and now the smirking sow had the gall to ride south and flaunt herself, as if her life was any safer.

“I shan’t be staying long, princess,” Lavender purred, “Though I will say, it’s good to be back. Running things in Silkwood without Blueblood has had its fair share of challenges. Even some matters of life and death. So many adventures. So much to be thankful for.”

Lavender’s eyes were locked onto Twilight, who stood as she was, unflinching.

Twilight crossed over to take her seat, and the other councilors followed suit.

“The Highlands follow the Warden of Haverford,” Twilight said, “And Stonehoof has gone over to the imperials. And yet you come south instead. Why?”

“Stonehoof is old,” Lavender said, sipping from her goblet of wine, “I fear for his longevity. Soon there will be a new Warden of Haverford, I think. Might it be better if it was somepony who had a stronger sense of loyalty?”

Twilight raised her head, and quickly took to Lavender’s meaning.

“There have been some skirmishes here and there, but a proper war in the north has yet to begin,” Lavender continued, “The same cannot be said for the dragons, who are the true enemy. With your leave, I wish to treat with your brother, the prince, and convince him to join us and defeat our common foe. I trust you know how persuasive I can be.”

Yes, you dress like a harlot and know how to whisper in a stallion’s ear.

“Shining will want Cadance,” Twilight said.

“Let them have her, but not until after the dragons are dealt with. The Empire is poised to be quite a challenge, princess. They have almost all of the Highlands behind them now, and perhaps the dragons, changelings and hippogriffs if we're not careful. If the war progresses as it is now, on two fronts - we won't prevail. We have to make peace with the Empire, or else they'll destroy us and take power for themselves, as they are capable of doing right now. Unite with them and defeat the dragons, before the dragons unite with them first. Once we have saved Equestria, all treasonous notions will disappear by then. And if the imperials fight alongside us, they will have a harder time turning their swords against their new brothers-in-arms.”

Archangel grunted in agreement.

“Very well,” Twilight said, “I would gladly have my brother as an ally once again, though I cannot say I share your optimism.”

“You never have, princess,” Lavender smirked.

“Featherglass,” Twilight said, shifting her attention to the lanky pale yellow pegasus lurching over the table, “What news of Silver Stream?”

“The changelings plan to marry her to Prince Malthos in the coming weeks,” Featherglass said, “I regret to inform your grace that you have not received a wedding invitation.”

“I’m not in the mood for your jokes, Featherglass.”

“You rarely are, your grace,” Featherglass laughed, “I am doing all I can to push for negotiations. Though you know our friend Pharynx likes to see us squirm.”

Twilight scowled.

“Your grace,” came Archangel, “Our reserves in Canterlot are depleted…If the dragons should manage to lay siege….”

“I will take command of the first battalion,” Redshift offered, “If you will allow it, your highness.”

“I will not,” Twilight said, to Redshift’s distress, “You’ve been running amuck in Manehattan, consorting with thieves and outlaws for the better part of a year. Now you ask me to charge you with the defense of this city? Wedge will take command of the first, and see that our walls are properly defended.”

“Let me make amends at least, your highness,” Redshift stammered, refusing to let that be the end of it.

Twilight glared at her.

“As you wish. Take a company north to join Snowfall and Styles. I’m confident you’ll have more use there than here.”

Redshift’s smile was crooked. To have to serve her old rival Snowfall was a just punishment, Twilight thought.

“What of the southern line?” Twilight asked.

“Hawkbit has committed to building a defensive front spanning from the Macintosh Hills to the Everfree Forest,” Marius reported.

Twilight took a moment to register what he had said, but when she had she quickly turned livid.

“There are sixteen settlements in the Great Plains. When I ordered him to defend the south, did he think those sixteen didn’t count?” Twilight demanded.

“A moral misstep, surely,” Marius said, “Though the southerners’ prayers have not gone unanswered. An army has launched out of Irwind, gathering support on its way into the plains.”

“Irwind?” Wedge repeated, “Irwind was given to Vertigo.”

Marius cleared his throat.

“It’s been said that it is Captain Vertigo who leads this army, I’m afraid. Him and Lady Azimuth's daughter, Delphi,” Marius said.

Another betrayer. Twilight had lost count of them by now. She trusted the ponies in this room even less.

“He is doing what Hawkbit should have done himself,” Twilight said, “...I should have him hanged for treason, yet perhaps we can make use of him as an ally, until the war is done. Otherwise the dragons will lay waste to the south, and then this city.”

Wedge shook his head in dismay. Vertigo was his own pupil, after all. He had never thought the boy had it in him.

“Send Hydrangea to bring his sister to reason. Offer them support,” Twilight said, “And remind them what the price of treason is, should they take this heroic endeavor too far.”

“Your grace, if I may,” Featherglass said, “The hippogriff fleet is wary of choosing a side, with their princess in chains and fetters. But Ocean Flow still stands with you. If you were to put them to use, provide them with a tangible stake in the fight, you will keep them as friends. Let them sit on the fence too long, and they may fall over to the wrong side.”

“You want me to send them to war?” Twilight asked, “Ocean Flow already believes her daughter lost. She will never agree to-”

“Ocean Flow is despondent and inconsolable,” Featherglass said, “But the young Prince Terramar, however…...his blood is hot and he craves battle. He will not allow the hippogriff fleet to be steered freely into the clutches of a kidnapping insect.”

Twilight smiled.

“Yes. I think you’re right. Make the arrangements,” Twilight said, “Now. All of you, get out. Not you, Wedge. Stay.”

The chamber emptied, save for Wedge, who had his helmet tucked into foreleg.

“Captain,” Twilight said, “You have served me faithfully these past few months. Tell me something. You know your ponies better than I ever will. Which of them do you trust?”

“Snowfall,” Wedge replied without delay, “Venger, Grey Wick, and Prickly, perhaps. The others are good soldiers. But I wouldn’t trust them with anything sensitive. Hawkbit is cowardly. Redshift is cruel. Hydrangea is young and hot-headed, and Styles….That one has no honor.”

“And Vertigo?” Twilight asked.

“It was me who taught him. Me who brought him up. If somepony must be held responsible for his actions, it should be me.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Twilight said, waving him off, “Vertigo will be dealt with. I need you to handle another matter. I want you to contact Styles, once the battalion has made camp. It’s time I told you of his true purpose in accompanying Snowfall.”

Wedge raised an eyebrow.

“In part he was to keep an eye on her, but I have a hundred pairs of eyes in that camp already who watch her every move. His task is more perilous, but should he succeed he may provide us with a bloodless victory over the north.”

“Flurry Heart,” Wedge guessed, “You want him to kidnap Princess Flurry Heart.”

Twilight nodded. Perhaps her captain was not the fool she had always thought he was.

“Shining did not balk at me imprisoning his wife. But he will when I take his daughter.”

“She’s only a child,” Wedge said, reluctantly. He did not like this plan.

“And she must be kept safe. Here, in Canterlot,” Twilight said.

“I’ll….I’ll let him know, your grace,” he said.

Wedge made for the door, but nearly collided into Venger, who scooted out of his way.

“Your grace,” she said, standing at attention, “Lady Azimuth has requested an audience. She is waiting without. Should I send her in?”

Twilight raised an eyebrow, and nodded.

The matriarch of Irwind was such a little thing, she was easily mistaken for a foal at the wrong glance. A wrinkled pale rose face was smiling up at her through a chaperon and veil.

“So this is the place where our princess wastes away?” Lady Azimuth said aloud. By the door, Venger seemed alarmed by the remark, “Goodness, would it kill you to open a window? There’s more sunlight in the castle dungeons.”

“Would you be wanting something, my lady?” Twilight asked, “Or, let me guess. You’ve come to assure me that you had no hoof in your daughter’s treason.”

“Ah, yes, I have a treasonous daughter. And I also have a loyal son. Surely one makes up for the other,” Azimuth declared, “My darling Delphi. If she had bothered consulting me, I would have told her to plan her betrayal with somepony other than some disgruntled army captain. But her newest plea for attention is not what brought me here. Delphi has emptied Augusta of its standing army to do battle with the dragons, and my lands are vulnerable. I should not have to remind you that without my grain and produce, your armies and citizenry will surely starve.”

“You might recall that we’re fighting a war,” Twilight said, “Two wars, in fact. I gave Augusta additional support already, and your daughter has spat my gift back in my face. Now you deign to ask for more?”

“If it’s not an army, then I would have a different sort of arrangement,” Azimuth said, “My son was supposed to marry the hippogriff princess, before she was whisked away.”

“I cannot give him a new bride,” Twilight said. She hesitated, before a thought came to her suddenly, “But I can give him something else. The Lowlands.”

Azimuth studied Twilight’s face, as if trying to decipher some hidden intention.

“You would give your old seat to a non-Equestrian?” Azimuth asked, skeptically.

“Equestrian or not, true friends are hard to come by,” Twilight said. She recalled a time the honor had been given to Starlight Glimmer, though that plan had only lasted a short while. Twilight’s face darkened at the thought.

“Your castle in Ponyville will be his as well,” Azimuth said, “Otherwise our shipments will come to a swift end, and our navy, the only one in the realm that can challenge the hippogriffs, may look to somepony else.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Twilight said, “Your son will be named Lord Protector of the Lowlands….if he succeeds in reaffirming his sister’s loyalty.”

“And that he will do,” Azimuth agreed, relieved, “You should not give up on my Delphinium so soon. The best way to bring her back to her senses will be through a suitable husband."

Twilight sighed.

"I would stop you now, my lady, and tell you that you overreach. But I'm curious. Who do you have in mind?"

"When the poor fool Prince Blueblood lost his head, to whom did his titles pass onto?"

"To the next closest living relative of Princess Celestia," Twilight answered, "A young colt, Heirloom, the Prince of Windsor Grey. Your daughter is twice his age."

"He will mature," Azimuth said, "And I expect he'll be quick about it, once he gets a look at my Delphinium."

"I won't agree to any arrangements until your son has completed his task," Twilight said, firmly.

"I shall tell him to make haste, in that case," Azimuth said, staggering up to her hooves, "I was told you were drunk, impertinent, and thoroughly mad. What a disappointment it is to find nothing but a weary melancholic.”

Twilight watched Azimuth shuffle out of the room. Twilight sat back in her seat, rubbed at her forehead, and shut her eyes.

The sun slipped beneath the west battlements, and darkness enveloped the camp. Juno would have to be quick. Quiet and quick, like the rabbit who took her place at target practice.

Convincing Tails to climb out of his cot at such an hour was a trial, though Poundcake required less convincing. The offer of some stolen jam rolls was enough to coax him along. She brought them together into the servants’ tent, which was currently unoccupied save for the rats and the crates of ammunition.

“Escape?” Tails rebuffed. The very word was a death sentence if the wrong pony heard them, “Singe tried escaping. Remember what happened to him?”

“Of course I do,” Juno said. She could still remember the smell of that bird cage he was left in for the crows to devour alive, “Coda’s leaving without us. Tomorrow. If we stay here we’ll die.”

“Might be,” Tails allowed, “But we run and we’ll most certainly die.”

Juno revealed her canvas satchel, rattling with glass bottles.

“The past five days I’ve been mixing dreamweed into the left-over bottles of cider they all drink," Juno revealed.

“Dreamweed?” Tails inquired.

“Never heard of such a thing,” Poundcake scoffed.

“It’s a plant, it grows on the north side by that old brick wall. it’s not supposed to be for cooking,” Juno explained. Her father had often ranted about the dangers of the drug, on the account of which he was often arresting unruly teenagers.

“I’ve filled up a whole barrel. It’ll make them drunk, sort of. They’ll be out of their minds, or asleep, and we’ll slip right past them.”

Tails raised an eyebrow.

“They’ll hunt us down,” Tails said.

“They might,” Juno agreed, “But they might not want to waste the effort. Not when the dragons are so close.”

“What if they punish the others for what we did?” Poundcake asked.

Juno had not thought of that.

“I’d take everypony if I could, but….We don’t have time. I already replaced the new barrel,” Juno said.

“You what?” Tails stammered, ‘So what, you want us to do this tonight?”

“We've got no choice. If you’re too afraid, you can stay here. But I’m going, with or without you,” Juno said.

Juno trotted right out of the tent, while the other two stared at each other in disbelief.

Juno checked her shoulder and saw the two of them had rushed after her, nervously glancing around to see if anypony was watching them.

Juno walked with a certainty in her stride, keeping her eyes locked on ahead of her.

She thought of Princess Cadance. I should bring her too. No, she thought, the Surgeon would most definitely come after them then. Cadance could handle them, maybe, if Juno knew how to break off that ring on her horn. And if she couldn’t….What parts of her would they take next?

She could not save Cadance, she thought with sadness. But maybe she could save Cadance’s daughter, she realized. Flurry Heart, she was called. Juno had never laid eyes on the girl, though she owed Cadance as much if she was going to leave her behind. Sunset Shimmer was last seen in the Empire, that's what Cadance had said. That was where she had to go.

At the gates, the guards were sound asleep, just as she had planned.

Tails laughed quietly in disbelief, amazed.

“Well done,” he said.

“That’ll only last a few hours,” Juno whispered, “We have to go.”

She sent Poundcake to quickly raid the pantry for as much food as he could carry, and Tails to the armory to fetch some weapons for them to use. Juno, meanwhile, kept watch over they guards to make sure none of them were stirring awake.

When they returned, Juno led them right out through the northern gate, while the castle slept on soundly.

They reached the top hill of the overlook before Juno finally let them stop.

She glanced over to the northeast road that led to Canterlot, to Sunset Shimmer, and back again to the woodland trail that ran back up near the gorge, up through the Lowlands and Highlands all the way to the Crystal Empire.

Sunset’s time would come, she told herself. First she would do right by Cadance. She would rescue Flurry Heart.

Star Swirl’s cottage was a simple dwelling, buried deep atop this spiked plateau.

Starlight kept her attention on Eight Ball, the only one among them who could not fly or keep himself airborne. The stallion kept his balance on the ridge, but barely.

The cottage was made of weathered grey stone and had copper-rung roofs, and a stone chimney that coughed up smoke into the grey sky.

Starlight knocked on the door, and heard multiple voices shouting, the breaking of glass, and the rustling of furniture.

The door creaked open, leaving a thin gap for a pair of eyes to peer through. Starlight had never been well-acquainted with Star Swirl, not like Luna, though Luna was not fit to make pleasantries.

“Starlight Glimmer,” Star Swirl muttered, opening the door wide enough to reveal himself. He was glaring deep into her eyes.

“Changelings make perfect copies,” Starlight said, “Except for the eyes. The eyes they often have trouble with.”

Star Swirl smiled, impressed, but was still suspicious.

“Forgive me young lady, but it’s common knowledge that you were killed,” Star Swirl said, as politely as he could, “A changeling would be more likely than a reanimated corpse.”

“And how often do you put your trust in common knowledge?” Starlight asked.

Star Swirl grunted, and Starlight suspected it was his best attempt at a laugh. His eyes passed over her to Luna.

“Princess. Have my dreams turned so dull they are not worth a visit these days?” he croaked.

“That power is lost to me. Along with much else,” Luna said.

Star Swirl stroked at his beard.

“I will do what I can to fix that,” Star Swirl promised, before turning to Discord, at last. “And….you. I did not foresee your coming, draconequus.”

“Maybe a thousand years ago, you could have,” Discord smirked, “My old friend Star Swirl. Did you run all the way up here to spare the ponies of Equestria your stench? I can’t think of a better reason.”

“What am I to make of this…troop of brigands?” Star Swirl bellowed, “And who is this?”

“Eight Ball, it’s an honor, sir,” the stallion said, offering his hoof to the wizard. Star Swirl appeared not to have even seen him.

“He was the one who found you,” Starlight said.

“Did he?” Star Swirl growled, finally acknowledging Eight Ball, who took a nervous step backwards.

“If it’s not any trouble….We’d like a word,” Starlight said.

Star Swirl hesitated at the door, until he finally stepped out of the way.

“I knew of your coming,” Star Swirl said, “But not of your purpose. I trust you understand I came to this wretched mountain with the explicit purpose of avoiding visitors.”

“The trek through the snow made that abundantly clear,” Starlight smiled, “We wouldn’t have troubled you without good reason.”

Star Swirl snorted.

He sat them around in his dining room, where the great oak table stood, surrounded by jars of exotic spices and herbs and candles of all colors. Star Swirl poured them all tea, and himself some wine.

Yona came in from the kitchen, and nearly fell over her own hooves at the sight of Starlight.

“Miss Glimmer?!” Yona gasped.

Yona ran to embrace Starlight, who had not felt a friend’s touch in what felt like an eternity. She savored it for as long as it lasted.

“Yona!” Starlight exclaimed, “What are you doing here?”

“Yona work keep wizard fed,” Yona smiled, “Good to keep Yona busy. Yona miss friends.”

“I know, Yona,” Starlight said, “Soon you’ll all be able to see each other again. I promise.”

Yona smiled an empty smile, and retreated to the kitchen to continue preparing the supper.

Star Swirl had taken his seat at the end of the table.

“It is strange to see you here. Equestria believes you’re dead,” Star Swirl said, before turning toward Discord, “And they can only wish the same for you.”

“You’re welcome to try it yourself, old friend,” Discord laughed.

“Try not to tempt me,” Star Swirl warned, “And you, Princess Luna. What brings you here?”

“A want for blood,” Luna replied.

“The purest of pursuits,” Star Swirl chuckled, “Twilight Sparkle’s blood, is that it? The three of you are strong enough, perhaps. If you’ve come to recruit me, I regret to inform you my fighting days are done.”

“If they ever really existed,” Discord laughed.

“Princess, I have seen glimpses of your suffering, and I know your thirst for vengeance well. But you will hear the truth now, from me. It was not Twilight Sparkle’s doing,” Star Swirl said.

“Liar,” Luna spat.

“It is no lie. Though the blood in Ponyville was on her hooves, your tortures had naught to do with her,” Star Swirl said.

“The crown she took was one drenched in the blood of our fallen friends,” Luna said, “I will have her answer for her crimes.”

“As Celestia did for hers?” Star Swirl mused.

“Careful, wizard. I am weakened, but not powerless to rip your throat out as I’ve always wanted,” Luna warned.

Star Swirl waved her off.

“Celestia would have waited until after tea to make threats of violence.”

“It’s Celestia we were wondering about,” Starlight clarified, “When was the last time you saw her?”

“Why, today, I reckon,” Star Swirl replied, “She has been with me for some time now.”

Luna rose to her hooves.

“One more lie, and I’ll-”

“She awaits you,” Star Swirl said, “Boy. Show our impatient guest to Princess Celestia.”

The boy, Quasar, who had been meekly standing by the door, suddenly came to life. He looked terrified.

Starlight rose to follow them, though Star Swirl raised a hoof, gesturing for her to remain seated.

Quasar led Luna away, and Star Swirl waited before resuming speaking.

“Luna’s mind has been altered, I have known this for some time. The answers you seek may alarm her, or elicit doubt, dread, or suffering. Better that she does not hear,” Star Swirl said.

“Do you have Celestia or not?” Eight Ball asked.

“I do. Celestia came to me, some time ago. She was inquiring about the shards,” Star Swirl said.

Starlight and Discord exchanged a glance.

“Shards of what?” Starlight asked.

“I did not know, at first. So I took to my library, first in Canterlot, then in Seaward, and then here, where I keep the oldest and most delicate scrolls of centuries past. I found the scrolls that gave credence to her claims,” Star Swirl said, “Celestia by this time had succumbed to paranoia, and became consumed by the things she saw in her seeing stone. She became obsessed with a pony, some accursed exile from across the sea, one who sought Celestia’s head and Equestria’s destruction. Celestia could not defeat this terrible threat alone, she told me, and certainly not as her mind had begun to slip away. So I urged her to step down from the throne to let Twilight prepare the nation better for its impending doom. And Celestia, with all the reason that remained to her, did just that.

“But she was restless, still. Celestia took to searching for the shards she had seen in her visions. I discovered them for her. Ancient relics, the first three seeds of the Tree of Harmony. Each seed was a gift from Gaia above. Two to the chief angels, Aetheria and Draco, and the third to us mortal beings, to wield as we see fit. Aetheria’s shard was the essence of all light and purity, and would protect against all evil - what we now call the Crystal Heart. Draco’s shard was the essence of all darkness, corruption, and selfishness - shaped like a dagger, a weapon of war. And last is the Orb, shaped like a sphere, that glows green. The Orb is the most powerful of the three, it is the balance of light and dark, it is the nature of mortal beings. Celestia already had the Crystal Heart, and she had her servants searching for the dagger. As for the Orb….It had never left Canterlot, not for tens of thousands of years. But nopony could wield it - its power was too great. Only a particular tool could harness the Orb’s power, and Celestia tasked me and her scientists to produce it.”

“Chrysalis, Tirek, and Cozy Glow couldn’t stop Twilight and her friends. Neither could Sombra, or the Shadow Pony, or Discord,” Starlight said, “Who is this creature that Celestia is so afraid of?”

Star Swirl laughed.

“As long as they remain on the side of the sea where they belong, I would not worry,” Star Swirl said, sipping from his wine.

“These relics…Where are they now?” Eight Ball asked.

“The Crystal Heart is where it’s always been, in the Empire. The dagger, nopony knows. And the Orb…The last I saw of it in the flames, the Orb was trapped in a bottle of brandy, surrounded by flies,” Star Swirl laughed.

“But you have the tool to wield it,” Discord said, “Might we see it?”

Star Swirl’s smile faded.

“The Witch’s Wand, it’s called. An elegant weapon, not fit to be gazed upon by the likes of you, draconequus. Ancient rituals and the scientists’ schematics made the wand into a reality. It is composed of impossible ores and alloys, brought to me by Celestia from every stretch of the world. The strongest, most potent magic is fused into the metal and wood. Even now, it remains unfinished,” Star Swirl said, “Once joined with the Orb, the weapon will be more powerful than the greatest of the alicorns, or the most wicked of the leliurium. No creature may withstand its power. Not even you, draconequus.”

“Celestia had gone mad, and you were going to give her a superweapon?” Starlight asked.

“I did as she commanded,” Star Swirl said, “But the weapon was never meant for her. How could it have been? She is not the one prophesied to save this land from its doom. That would be Twilight Sparkle, the one you mean to destroy.”

Starlight gritted her teeth.

“Twilight Sparkle has betrayed Equestria, time and time again. She’s a murderer,” Starlight said.

“The two of you are more alike than you realize, you just don't know it,” Star Swirl said. Starlight’s scowl shattered, replaced by shock. “Yes…I’ve seen glimpses of the future. It is just as Twilight told you, and just as Celestia told her. Blood shores, black skies, and lakes of fire. Cities of corpses. This weapon, the wand and the Orb together….once I arm Twilight with them she will be unstoppable, and she will save Equestria from its doom.”

Starlight shook her head.

“You’ll kill us all,” Starlight said, “She’s the one who’s destroying Equestria! This war is all because of her.”

“If you and your friends hadn’t interfered, there never would have been a war,” Star Swirl retorted, “You are well-read, Starlight Glimmer, and proficient in the arts of sorcery. Why must you act such a fool?”

“Why have you told us all this?” Eight Ball asked, “If Twilight is your champion, why arm her enemies with knowledge of how to destroy her?”

Star Swirl glanced at him.

“This one asks the right thing,” he grunted, “You have your parts to play in the war to come. But know this, Starlight Glimmer. Kill Twilight, and you kill yourself.”

“Is that a threat?” Starlight demanded.

“It is your fate,” Star Swirl said, solemnly.

“Equestria’s fate is what concerns me,” Starlight said, “I want to see Celestia. Take us to her. Now.”

Star Swirl sighed and rose from his seat.

“As you wish.”

They came to the courtyard that sat behind the cottage, a mossy place spotted in blue frost. The trees were grey, crooked, jagged things that surrounded the yard, and Starlight knew at once that this was the place called the Crown of Thorns, an ancient place where the old Frost kings and queens were once made and the place where they were put to rest. A lichyard, it was, though no headstones remained.

Except for one.

Starlight had proceeded past Discord and Eight Ball, who lingered by the edge of the gate. Star Swirl proceeded on with a limp in his step, glancing over his shoulder to see Starlight’s face go pale.

Luna was kneeling by the spot in the snow where the stone was stuck. No words adorned it, no markings either. A diadem hung over its edge, though, one bejeweled with rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and rarer kinds. The diadem had once dangled off the crown of Princess Celestia.

“How can this be?” Starlight asked. Her voice came only as a whisper. Luna lay motionless in the snow.

Star Swirl fluffed the snow out of his beard.

“The day had been foretold, thousands of moons past,” Star Swirl said.

“Enough riddles,” came Luna, catching both of them off guard. Luna rose from the snow at last. Her eyes were red with tears, and her lips were trembling.

“She does not belong here. Who do you think you are? She is your princess. She is your sovereign. To bury her in this cursed place….The deepest of the hells will not suffice to hold your wretched soul, wizard,” Luna said.

“A grieving heart makes a foolish mind,” Star Swirl warned, “Your sister requested to be buried here, shortly before her passing. It was the last thing she asked of me.”

“You saw what happened,” Starlight presumed, “Who did this? Who killed Celestia? Was it Twilight?”

Star Swirl gave a great guffaw.

“Celestia had come back to me, having found the last of the materials I required to complete the Witch’s Wand. She did not see the assassin, nor did I,” Star Swirl said, “But I did see a swirl of blue twist through the air, like a helix, and in its wake came flames of gold, red, and opal. The specter tore through the heart of Celestia, and left her here to die. I was left unharmed. What was most queer, was that Celestia found her senses again, shortly before the end. She stopped speaking of portents and prophecies. She stopped mentioning the shards, or the exile, or her many enemies. She spoke only of the green country of the south, and how she missed the smiling faces of her dear friends. Of her sister Luna, of Twilight Sparkle, and Cadance, and all her old friends. Names from centuries ago, names even I had almost forgotten. Finally she asked to be buried here, without ceremony.”

“It was Posh,” Starlight realized, abruptly, “Or Ember, or Thorax, or any of them, or some hired cutthroat who worked for them…They murdered Celestia before she could stop them from starting their coup. They would’ve done the same to Twilight, if she hadn’t discovered what they were doing first.”

Luna shook her head. “Twilight….Twilight avenged my sister’s death?”

Starlight glared at her.

“By starting a war. She didn’t have to murder all those creatures. She could have imprisoned them and forced them to stand trial,” Starlight argued.

Luna laughed, staggering up from the ground.

“Twilight Sparkle is not the enemy!” Luna rejoiced, weeping as she laughed some more, “I must find her and make peace. She will need my help more than ever.”

“Luna,” Starlight said, cautiously, “Twilight is no better than Posh or Ember. As long as she sits on that throne, more and more ponies’ lives will be at risk.”

“They have always been at risk,” Luna said, “And they always will be. You may not find her methods ideal, but somepony has to be there to keep the peace. That is how Celestia understood things, as well. I was once like you, and did not understand, and Celestia made things clear to me. Twilight is the most capable one we have. Celestia saw it from the start, why do you think she chose her to be her mentee, and not you or Sunset Shimmer? Sunset is arrogant and ruthless, and you are gentle and foolish. Twilight is the best choice to protect Equestria, like it or not. Our enemies gather their strength. To kill Twilight now would bring the ruin of Equestria.”

Starlight gritted her teeth.

“There will never be an opportune time to kill her,” came Discord, floating up between them. Star Swirl took a step back, “The best time to bear the needle is when you don’t expect it.”

“They killed my sister,” Luna choked, “Those putrid rebels, who then thought to make me their ally. They came to me with Celestia’s blood still on their hooves. They had the gall to ask for my help. I’ve had enough of the lies. Enough of the treachery. I remember who my friends are. And it was never you, Discord.”

“And what about me?” Starlight asked.

Luna glared at her.

“Perhaps now I see you for what you are. A jealous rival seeking the glory that you were spurned. I know that look in your eyes, the bitter contempt of a second-born, or for your case, a lesser horn. You had your chance to serve her, and now that she has thrown you out, you only wish to destroy her. But I will not allow this folly to continue.”

Luna’s horn ignited, as did Starlight’s. Discord’s laughter rolled up into the hills.

Star Swirl glanced at the gate. Eight Ball had disappeared.

“Boy!” he yelled, but there was no answer.

A fire had started in the workshop. He could smell the smoke.

“I was blind before, for the years spent in that prison,” Luna said, “Now I see clearly. Twilight is still young. I can grant her a few mistakes. But letting you survive…..That will not do.”

Starlight’s glare hardened, and she stuck her hooves deeper into the snow.

Discord’s claws began to outstretch. Starlight eyed him, as did Luna.

Make your choice, Discord, and do it soon.

“You will have no eyes tonight,” Luna said, “You will have no tongue, and no ears. You will roam the next life blind, dumb, and deaf, and your rebel friends will know - this is Starlight Glimmer. The fool who thought she could kill Twilight Sparkle. The fool who thought she could kill me.”

The snow fell soft and steady, and Star Swirl staggered back against a tree stump, losing his footing in the moss. Behind them all, the fires had spread up from the workshop.

Then the first cracks of thunder sounded, and the horns glowed brighter still, until they each burst into furious fumes of magic, and the air was set on fire.

Author's Note

Next chapter should be out by the end of March or early April, thank you so much for reading! Also the current plan is to have five more chapters, though it may be more depending on how things turn out. I hadn't planned on this one being 19k words; it was a challenge to cut things down. Let me know what your thoughts are, any and all feedback is welcomed!

09: Great and Powerful

In the mountain moondust, the city was a jewel fixed to the rocky ridge, a dying star guarded by locks of blue mist. The sky was a deep purple, stained black with the bleeding trail of steam that the Friendship Express left in its wake. The rolling blue hills trembled before the squealing machine, tirelessly trudging into the black. Over moors and valley bridges, green towns and wasteland wonders, the grumbling beast made haste by starlight, as if spooked by some unseen pursuer.

Trixie Lulamoon felt a similar dread, poking her head from the gangway to inspect the train’s exterior for any nightbound stowaways.

Her mane fell victim to the wily winds, as she held onto one of the iron posts by the car door corridor. She could not stay long; the others would be wondering where she had gone.

But she was held captive for the moment, as her gaze ascended, past the shifting car roofs.

The stars, fixed, faint, and far away, seemed to never change. Many and more there were; but though in that portrait they appeared mere inches from one another, each stood trillions of miles apart, solitary sentinels in the sky.

Likewise, Trixie too thought herself suited for isolation. Friendship seemed to come easily to the ponies of Equestria, except for the unlucky few, Trixie among them. Trixie scowled to herself, as that dreadful voice in the back of her head began to shame her and hold her to task, though she was not sure why right then. You’re pathetic. You’re horrible. You’re evil, and rotten, and don’t deserve what they all have. She felt her teeth chattering, but for lack of a chill, and, after one last glance around the train’s broadside, she slipped back through the car door.

Inside the compartment, on either side were rows of cushioned benches and dusky lanterns. The train had been sparsely populated, on account of their wartorn destination, though Trixie’s company were not the only occupants. There was a mare with pearls and earrings and a tan trenchcoat sleeping with her face pressed against the window glass, and further back there were two stallions, one in grey and one in blue, dozing off beside each other. And finally there was a family of four, near the front of the train car. The foals had already fallen asleep, though the mother and father were wide awake, anxiously eyeing each other and twitching every time the floors creaked.

Trixie found Heartburn, Amber, and Starbuck in the middle of the car.

Starbuck’s crystal glimmer had long since faded, weakening with every moment he spent away from the Crystal Heart. The whole way to the train station, Trixie found him to be somewhat of a liability, frequently getting distracted by imagined threats, or worse, the aromatic allure of market treats. She had almost lost him at one point, only for him to reappear with four cinnamon pastries, one for each of their group. Trixie would have throttled him for running off like that, though the pastry was a sufficient act of penance.

If Starbuck was like a bubbly little brother, Amber was in turn a bratty little sister. She ravaged through three cigarettes by the time a train attendant reminded her of the no-smoking policy, and then another three after the attendant had gone. Trixie had assumed that, given the degree of composure a professional thief would surely require, Amber would do well under pressure, though the girl seemed to be constantly looking over her shoulder, paranoid as if some monster was lurking permanently in the edges of her vision. After that incident with Twilight’s changeling minion, Amber had needed further reassurance that the rewards of this expedition would make up for the risks. More gold than you can imagine. The gratitude of an alicorn princess, Still, Trixie wondered how quickly Amber would tuck tail and run, once Twilight’s wrath eventually caught up to them. Of that eventuality, Trixie was certain. Part of her regretted having left that changeling survive to tell Twilight all he knew, though she found it unthinkable to do what Heartburn had demanded of her, to silence the creature for good, even though that wretch would have no qualms if the roles were reversed.

Starbuck and Amber had fallen asleep beside each other on the left side of the car; Trixie found Heartburn across the aisle, sitting alone by the lantern light, gazing out the window at his own reflection.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” he asked; it was a task to keep his booming voice to a low volume, for fear of waking up the train car.

“We can rest easy tonight,” Trixie assured.

Trixie sat down across from him, sighing in exhaustion.

Heartburn’s beard had grown a bit thicker since their first encounter in the Crystal Empire, and there were haggard lines on his face, and crow’s feet by his eyes. He had a gentle, easy smile, but a gruff haunch and a tired laugh. The way he laughed, the way he winced and grunted and glowed up any room he was in, all of it painted a familiar image, one she had trouble reckoning with. She had not laid eyes on her father, Jackpot, in many years after all, but for better or worse it seemed he had reappeared, in the vessel of this stranger, this mad scientist of sorts. The thought made her heart sink, and she wondered where Jackpot was now, whether he knew what had become of her, whether her fate concerned him much at all anymore.

Her thoughts drifted back to her very first performance, the opening act prior to her father’s weekly 9 p.m. show at Gladmane’s Resort in Las Pegasus. Even at age eight, Trixie had a knack for working a crowd, despite her clumsiness on stage and her difficulty pulling off the tricks. If she had stuck around in Las Pegasus, she could have followed in her father’s hoofsteps, learning the trade as she went. But although they shared a love for staged spectacle and the thrill of live performance, they never shared the same ambitions, not exactly.

Jackpot’s idea of success was to straddle along his cult-like following of easily-pleased peasants, whose hard-earned bits would exclusively fund his lavish Las Pegasus lifestyle. Trixie had never cared for wealth and luxury, despite what she liked to claim to others. All that she had ever really wanted was to entertain. She had proven as much after starting her own enterprise, a traveling show that would dart around from town to town; not once did she charge a dime for admission. She survived off of odd-jobs, bartering, and selling what parts of her she could.

But as much as she had convinced herself that she was not her father, she had to consider what exactly her real goals had always been. Despite her efforts, in the back of her mind she knew the truth, that she didn’t just want ponies to laugh at her; she needed them to. She needed them to talk about her, to think about her, to love her, to hate her. It was obscurity that terrified her, and to that end every choice she had made since fleeing Las Pegasus was to serve a singular purpose: make her mark on the world. Live forever. And she had tried to do just that, only to suffer failure after failure, all while telling herself that another chance would come. Only after Twilight Sparkle threw her off the edge of ruin could she see herself for what she was, a hapless idiot chasing a dream she had thrown away years ago.

Twilight. The name made her heart beat faster in her chest. Trixie had never gotten the chance to study at some fancy Canterlot academy, nor study under the tutelage of an alicorn princess. Everything Twilight had, her entire life, had been handed to her - favor with Celestia, a pair of wings, and finally a crown. Twilight thought of herself as some genius, as some sorceress supreme, when in reality she was just Celestia’s pet project, and a poor imitation at best. Still, Trixie could not stand a chance against her alone. With Starlight at her side, maybe, but now? She needed help. She needed Cadance. Together they would destroy Twilight once and for all.

Trixie bit her lip. She was not sure if it was jealousy, hatred, or some other kind of obsession she felt, but whatever it was, Twilight Sparkle was on her mind too much for her own liking.

She glanced back at Heartburn, and, seeing her father’s eyes in his, she imagined what Jackpot would think of her now. Of how she lived in the shadow of a pony who had gotten the better of her at every turn. Of how she had abandoned her family to start her own career, a career that crumbled completely within a matter of years. Of how she had failed the few friends she had, and was now embarking on one last-ditch quest to do some good for once, to leave her mark on the world, but without her great and powerful signature attached. She had never considered that she could affect anything but to reduce and subtract and project and distract. At the end of this train ride, she would find out for herself the matter of her worth, the purpose of her survival, the result of all the retribution she endured.

She shut her eyes to the thought of tomorrow, when they would finally reach Appleloosa. And from there, to Cadance. To justice. To revenge.

“Sixty ships!” Veto’s greying mane was tousled in the torchlight, and his eyes seemed to glow with fury in the dark. “Your grace, this must be answered fiercely!” His last word rang off the rafters, echoing through the throne room.

Must, Twilight thought, He dares say “must” to me.

The barbed shadow of the throne reached halfway to the marble doors; the far end of the hall was lost in darkness. The shadows seemed to be closing in around her, Twilight thought. My enemies are everywhere and my friends are all useless. She had only to glance over at her councilors to know that; only Bone Marrow and Featherglass seemed awake. The others had been roused from bed by Veto’s messengers pounding on their bedchamber doors, and they stood there rumpled and confused. The stained glass windows of the hall were speckled with rain, which made a low murmur as the castle and city slept. Venger and Prickly Pear seemed to be sleeping too, albeit on their hooves.

Twilight had amended her plan to remove Veto from power; instead of sending Wedge to catch Venger making her advances on that miserable bag of bones, she had sent the servants of Cassandra, the palace’s own high priestess and the closest thing to a leader belonging to that fanatical cult called the Children of the Sun. The public outrage that followed was precisely as Twilight had planned, however Veto, in all his stubbornness, refused to step down from his position. He had picked his friends in the Senate carefully, and the vote for his removal had not gone through. So she was stuck with him for now, even while that gaggle of tribalistic zealots filled the streets with their religious fervor.

Venger had not wished to be seen with him again in public, after the scandal, though these summons had taken everypony by surprise.

“Sixty ships?” Marius Moonshine was wheezing. “Surely not. That’s almost half of our fleet.”

“Some frightened fool has counted double,” Wedge Ward agreed.

“Sixty ships,” Veto barked, “While our enemy has only lost twenty. They have three hundred more scouring the sea for what’s left of our fleet, scattered and scant of supplies.”

“We will not beat the Empire at sea, not while the hippogriffs fight beside them,” Twilight sighed, “Admiral Mooring must rethink his strategy if we’re to gain any ground in the North Lunar Sea. We have to simplify our objectives, focus on smaller ports we can use to establish toeholds on land.”

“There are too many,” Veto said, shaking his head, “Too many. Snowfall’s forces have prevailed so far, but they are soon to be surrounded on all sides, trapped right in the heart of the Highlands. And what support can we offer her? Everypony else is needed here, to defend this city. And even if we do somehow defeat the dragons, the Empire will be quick to finish us off. It’s hopeless.”

Twilight rose from her seat suddenly, and her eyes flashed red. The room was silent then, but Veto stood unflinching, too consumed by rage to know to be afraid.

“All of you are where you are now because ponies entrusted you to protect them in such times as these, when our enemies surround us and hope dwindles. You are welcome to follow after that coward Archangel, or Hawkbit, and keep yourself safe at the cost of the ponies you swore to protect. But if you feel that way, have the courage at least to make that plain, right here. Or perhaps you are too craven to do even that.”

Veto’s face twisted with rage.

“I am not going anywhere,” Veto snarled, “If this city falls, then so do I.”

With that, he turned for the doors, and was followed by Grey Wick, Prickly, and Wedge Ward, the latter of whom probably hoped to smooth things over somehow.

Dawn was still several hours away when Twilight slipped through the Queen’s door behind the marble throne. Venger went before her with a torch, and Bone Marrow strolled along beside her. Marius had lingered in the throne room, to pace about, pensively.

“The Nine are spread thin,” Bone Marrow said, as they crossed over the spiked moat that led to the inner keep, “If any of them should fall in the battles to come … your grace will need to find another worthy for the honor.”

“Who do you have in mind?” Twilight asked, hoping to get to the point.

Bone Marrow’s smile was unnerving, a twisted grin that made Venger’s skin crawl.

“What he lacks in gallantry, he’ll give you tenfold in his devotion. He will protect your loved ones, kill your enemies, and keep your secrets. No living creature will be able to withstand him.”

“So you say,” Twilight grumbled, “When the hour comes, you may produce this monster of yours, and we’ll see if he’s all you’ve promised.”

“The dragons will turn around at the very sight of him,” Bone Marrow assured, “Might I ask about the armor?”

“I placed your order. The armorers all think I’m mad. They insisted no creature could be strong enough to move and fight under such weight.” Twilight gave the witch doctor a wary look, “Attempt to deceive me, and you’ll die screaming. You are aware of that, I trust?”

“More than most, your grace,” Bone Marrow smiled.

“Good. Say no more of this.”

“The walls do have ears,” Bone Marrow said.

“So they do.” Twilight often heard soft sounds at night, even in her own chambers. Mice in the walls, she would say to herself, nothing more.

The candle was burning by her bedside, but the hearth had turned to smoke and there was no other light; the room was cold. Venger lingered outside to stand guard, yawning.

But before Twilight could find any rest, somepony hammered at the door.

What now? The urgency of the rapping made her shiver. She slipped into a bedrobe and rose to see who it was.

“Forgive me for the disturbance, your grace,” Venger said from outside, “But Bubblegum Bliss is below, begging an audience.”

“At this hour?” Twilight snapped, “Has she gone mad? Tell her I’m abed. Tell her that the ponies in the Highlands and South are being slaughtered. Tell her that I have been awake for half the night, and I will see her on the morrow.”

Venger hesitated.

“Your grace….She said it was an emergency.”

Twilight frowned. She had assumed Bubblegum was here to tell her that Archangel was dead. “Very well. Take her to my solar and have her wait.”

Bubblegum Bliss’ face was bruised and swollen, her eyes red with tears. Her lower lip was bloody pulp, her clothing soiled and torn.

“What’s happened?” Twilight said, aghast at the sight of the miserable mage. Venger stood outside, shutting the door.

Bubblegum did not seem to hear the question. “He killed him,” she quavered, “Celestia save us, he….he…” She broke down sobbing, her whole body trembling.

Twilight poured a cup of wine and took it to Bubblegum, who was a quivering mess.

“Drink this, it will calm you. That’s it, a little more now. Stop crying and tell me what’s happened,” Twilight said.

It took the rest of the flagon before the princess was finally able to coax the whole sad tale out of Bubblegum Bliss. Once she had, she did not know whether to laugh or fly into a fit of rage.

“A duel,” she repeated. Is there no one in all of Equestria I can rely on? Am I the only one with a pinch of wits? “You are telling me that Chevalier challenged Archangel to a duel?”

“H-He thought it was the honorable thing to do,” Bubblegum reminded, “That’s what Chevalier said. He said it would be s-s-simple.”

Archangel may have been as sharp as a marble, but nopony could deny he was a formidable knight. A battle-hardened killer, even. The cretin Chevalier wrote his own death warrant. “A splendid plan. May I ask how it went awry?”

“....Archangel…He drove his lance through Chevalier’s chest. He screamed so piteously. When I tried to run to Chevalier, Archangel, he, he, he struck me in the face. He made Chevalier c-c-confess.”

“Confess?” Twilight did not like that word, “I trust our brave Chevalier held his tongue.”

“Archangel put a dagger in his eye, and told me I had best be gone from Saddleopolis before the sun went down, or I’d get the same.” Bubblegum clutched the princess’ hoof. “Goddess, you must give me knights. A hundred knights!”

Twilight pulled her hoof free of the mare’s grasp. “I asked you to snuff out a candle to protect Equestria. Instead you heaved a gallon of gasoline onto it. Did your witless Chevalier bring my name into this? Tell me he didn’t.”

Bubblegum’s lips were quivering.

“He….He was in pain. He….He…” Bubblegum pulled at her mane, as her breath began to hasten, “You must help me, Goddess. What should I do?”

Twilight forced a smile.

“You will stay here with us, until such a time it is safe for you to show your face again. Let me pour you another cup of wine, it will help you sleep. My poor dear Bubblegum. That’s it, drink up.”

As her guest was working on the flagon, Twilight went to the door and called her maids. She had Honey Bee find Bone Marrow and bring him here at once.

Bone Marrow arrived by Bubblegum’s third cup. By then, she was beginning to nod off, though from time to time she would rouse and weep some more. The princess took Bone Marrow aside and informed him of Chevalier’s folly. “I cannot have her spreading false tales around the city, about my role in the attempt on Archangel’s life. Her grief has made her witless. Do you still need ponies for your … work?”

“Always, your grace,” Bone Marrow smiled.

“She’s yours, then,” Twilight smiled, “Sweet Bubblegum, Dr. Bone Marrow’s here. He’ll help you rest.”

“Oh,” Bubblegum said, vaguely, “Oh, good.”

When the door closed behind them Twilight poured herself the last of the wine. Imbeciles, she thought to herself, I am surrounded by imbeciles and traitors. If only she had the means to do everything herself.

The sky outside was already beginning to lighten. It would be morning soon, and all of this would be forgotten.

It had never happened.

Moon Dancer had lived in Canterlot her entire life, not once had she ever dared to visit the Orange Light District by her lonesome. There was a first time for everything, she thought.

She sighed to herself, glancing past the steering wheel of her carriage at the street ahead of her.

They should have been here, by now, she thought. Lightning and Kickstart were not ones to dawdle, usually, though then again, the entire city had gone into full panic mode, so they might have been held up sneaking back in from wherever they wound up after the Cloudsdale fiasco. They had best hurry. Every newscolt and harbinger was raving about the dragons, how they were only a few days away, or mere hours. Nopony slept easily in Canterlot anymore. Not the wealthy aristocrats in the Marble Mire apartments, nor the downtrodden District-dwellers. Everypony everywhere counted their breaths, always listening, always watching. The previous night, some ponies in Soapy Suds’ tavern had mistook a shattered glass as a gunshot, inciting a stampede of panicked patrons that resulted in twelve injuries and one near-death.

The government had not remained silent all this time; there were reassurances made, and promises and petitions, most of which fell on ears too terrified to listen. The only news that ponies paid much attention to was what confirmed their fears or created entirely new objects of dread. The Ministry of Education had begun pinning posters and fliers all around the city, all bearing variations of the same message. Trust in Twilight Sparkle. Have hope. Have courage. Twilight Sparkle will protect us.

Moon Dancer always had trouble buying into all the rumors about Twilight, and she could hardly stomach the ones about Celestia. She was Celestia’s student her entire childhood, right alongside Twilight. Neither of them would not be half the sorceress they each were without Celestia’s guidance. The foundational years of her life were built upon those two ponies, and so she could never despise Twilight, not truly.

Celestia spent a thousand years burying all of her dirty laundry, and as soon as it was all unearthed, Twilight was given the crown, the fallout, and the blame for everything. Moon Dancer wished she could have helped her somehow, before things got so out of hoof, before there was blood on her hooves, but it was too late now. Twilight had been thrown into Celestia’s open grave, and for some reason opted to dig herself deeper. Now all Moon Dancer could do was stop her from dragging anymore ponies down with her.

Consorting with Sunset Shimmer and her friends was not her ideal method of doing that, but she supposed they were the best bet she had. It wasn’t just Twilight who needed to be defeated, after all, but all of the corruption that supported her, as well. The criminals in power in Manehattan and Canterlot and Vanhoover and Baltimare. The soldiers who raped and murdered and raided with impunity, who were only ever punished with a slap to the hoof. Celestia had let Equestria rot from within, and be left vulnerable to attack after attack. Nightmare Moon, Tirek, Cozy Glow, Chrysalis. Celestia could not contain any of them. Twilight could, for all her faults, and so Moon Dancer had hoped that the pony she once called a friend was not completely gone, that she could be restored somehow.

She had retrieved Bon Bon, Sunset, Wallflower, Suri, and their newest companion, Gilded Lily, a few hours prior, though only Moon Dancer had been able to stay awake as the night began to drag on. She was relieved to see Sunset had successfully rescued the girl, Lily. Perhaps she had treated Sunset too harshly, but that horrible business in Ponyville was hard to forget, or forgive.

They wouldn’t be staying in Canterlot for long. Sunset had made a deal with Jet Set, and Bon Bon had found out more details about the project that seemed to have involved the entirety of the Canterlot underworld. A superweapon, Sunset had called it, shortly before falling asleep with a smile on her face, doubtlessly dreaming about what fortune awaited them. Suri insisted that the project would be enough to get Scootaloo back, pay off Mandola, and buy their way to true freedom. Wallflower, meanwhile, had dreaded that the case might wind up in the hooves of the wrong pony, though if Moon Dancer had dared to speak up, she’d have mentioned that Sunset Shimmer would certainly top the list of the wrong ponies.

Moon Dancer would much sooner return home and put this vigilante business behind her. But she could not stay idle while Equestria tore itself apart.

“Lyra, forget all about that,” muttered Bon Bon from the rear compartment of the carriage. Moon Dancer had picked her up earlier that night outside the Belly of the Whale, blackout drunk, soaked in sweat, and with somepony’s lipstick all over her face.

Bon Bon had stirred awake so abruptly that Moon Dancer nearly jumped out of her chair. “I heard something.”

A knock on the rear door of the carriage shook Moon Dancer alert.

She ignited her horn, unsure what she would find on the other side.

“Open the door!!”

Moon Dancer recognized the voice on the other side, and rushed out of the driver’s seat.

Scooting past the workbench in the rear compartment as the others all roused themselves, Moon Dancer threw open the rear door with her magic, while Bon Bon lay slumped against the wall, giggling to herself.

Lightning Dust was gasping for breath on the other side, with Kickstart half-slung over her shoulder.

“Moon Dancer!” Lightning managed a smile, climbing up into the carriage, dragging Kickstart alongside her.

“What the hell happened to you two?” Moon Dancer stammered, checking outside and closing the doors as soon as they were safely inside.

Sunset was up at once, as was Wallflower, who rushed over to hug Lightning.

“You’re OK!” Wallflower cried out.

Sunset wiped at her brow, sighing in relief. Suri lifted herself to the tips of her hooves to get a glimpse at the pair, while Bon Bon dizzily lost her balance by the wall.

Lightning hugged Wallflower back, burying her head in Wallflower’s green curls. Scampers the rat was tugging at her hooves from the floor. Suri had come next, eyeing Lightning up and down.

“You’re a mess,” Suri said, flatly.

Lightning smiled, trotting over to embrace Suri, who shrunk in her grasp, reluctantly returning the gesture.

“Sunset,” Lightning said, while helping Kickstart sit up. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I…I screwed everything up. I-”

Sunset approached Lightning, who flinched, though Sunset’s glare had softened, and she offered Lightning a hoof to the shoulder.

“It’s not your fault,” Sunset said, firmly, “I’m just glad you two are OK. Now I need you to keep your head on straight, got it?”

Lightning sucked the snot back up her snout, and wiped at her eyes, before nodding her head.

"OK. Yeah. Sorry," Lightning said, "He blacked out a few hours ago..."

They all glanced down at Kickstart, who was unconscious, whose eyes were glowing a dim red. Moon Dancer could see his veins glowing from underneath his skin, lighting up his entire body like a christmas tree. His nerves were twitching and his heart was palpitating, and all the while he was short of breath.

Moon Dancer helped him over to her workbench.

“What’s that face? Don’t make that face. Is he dying?” Lightning asked, pale in the face.

“His heart rate is a bit fast, but he seems stable. He should rest,” Moon Dancer said, after pressing her ear to his chest, “What happened?”

“He teleported,” Lightning said, “We were with Scootaloo, and he….Did you find her? Is she OK?”

“She’s alright, but….Did you say teleported?” Moon Dancer said, skeptically.

“Moon Dancer, get this hunk of junk moving, we’ve gotta get out of this city before they lock down every exit,” Sunset insisted.

Moon Dancer acquiesced, not wanting to spend a moment longer in this neighborhood than necessary.

“Wait, wait, we have to get Kicks to a hospital,” Lightning said.

“Hospital? No-can-do. Moon Dancer can take care of him.”

“I can?” came Moon Dancer from the driver’s compartment.

“You want Scootaloo back, right? Then we don’t have time for pit-stops,” Sunset continued.

Lightning crossed her hind legs and bit her lip. She glanced down at Kickstart, who did not stir, except for his hoof, which found hers reaching out to him. Lightning felt herself trembling, but tightened her grip around him, squeezing his hoof.

“Alright, OK, so how do we get her back? What do we do?” Lightning stammered.

“You do what I say,” Sunset said, “What’s the fastest way out of here?”

“The Royal Road,” Suri suggested, “But we’d have to travel with all the commoners, which I absolutely cannot do, ‘kay….There’s also Tumbledown Tunnel.”

“No way, Tumbledown’s right next to the garrison barracks! We’ll be spotted, we can’t risk it!” Wallflower winced, “The Boneway. We have to take the Boneway!”

“Boneway’s closed. The airways are all on lockdown, and the ground exits are all under guard,” Moon Dancer said up ahead as she turned on the engine, “Unless you plan on fighting your way out, we’re trapped here.”

“Trapped?” Wallflower said, horrified.

“Fight our way out! Of course!” Lightning grinned.

“Idiot. Did you land on your head after they threw you out of the Wonderbolt Academy?” Suri chirped, “There’s still thousands of soldiers posted all around the city.”

“So that’s it? We’re stuck here?” Wallflower asked.

“Wait!” Bon Bon yelled. The others’ eyes all darted over to her.

“I….I….” Bon Bon began, drunkenly slurring her words. Wallflower winced, while Sunset sighed, and Suri buried her face in her hooves. “I know a way out…but….I would need to…”

“Need to what?” said Lightning, grabbing Bon Bon by the shoulders, shaking her awake, “Bon Bon! Need to what?”

“Need to….see some,” Bon Bon began laughing, “Old friends.”

Each night was colder than the last.

Torchlight warped around the ancient iron bars, while the back half of the cell remained drenched in gloom. There was a murkiness there as well, as to be expected in the dank depths of the Heart of Equestria, that lonely peak where the ivory city of Canterlot sat. The Crescendo river began there at the mountain, and the murmur of its current could be heard through the dense black stone. And there were rats, as many as any prison could expect to have, and a few more besides.

Rarity had fallen ill when they first brought her here. She recalled the look that Twilight had given her before ordering her to be taken away, and the twist in her stomach that followed. A fever had begun to take hold of her, and her lips were battered with blood blisters. I’m going to die, she remembered thinking. I’m going to die soon, here in the dark.

But she had found she was wrong about that, as about so much else. Dimly, she remembered gentle hooves and a soft voice, that of the royal physician Bone Marrow, who frequented the underground labyrinth beneath the palace. He had given her hot garlic broth to drink, and painkillers to take away her aches and shivers. The drugs had put her to sleep, and while she slept he had stuck leeches on her flesh to drain out the bad blood. Or so she surmised, by the marks on her forelegs. Before long, the physician’s drug cocktails had done the job; her cough had vanished, her blisters too.

The jailer who tended her was broad and squat, a hunchback, with thick shoulders and huge strong legs. She had attempted to reason with him many a time, but the brute paid her no notice.

Neither sun nor moon shone in the dungeons. Rarity marked the passage of the days by the number of meals the hunchback brought, and by the changing of the torches outside her cell.

Her only relief from her stifling routine was the occasional visit by Dr. Bone Marrow. The witch doctor, as he was called behind his back, liked to frequent the dungeons, despite the fear he seemed to instill in its occupants. Prisoners would rush to the shadows to escape his gaze, though Rarity never fled. She had played all of her cards already, lost one of her best friends at the cost of defending the truth, and now she thought there was little that could phase her.

Her bravery, however, had the unintended consequence of drawing the witch doctor’s notice. He was a slightly stooped stallion, she thought, not particularly handsome but not particularly hideous. His yellow coat was faded, as was his black mane cut short. He had wrinkles around his eyes, which seemed blue sometimes, and other times warm brown. He had a lean frame, and looked almost fatherly.

It was Bone Marrow who allowed her the occasional respite from her dungeon cell, using her as his assistant to push carts to and from his laboratory, as well as copy letters by candlelight.

Rarity rarely spoke out of turn, hoping to gain the stallion’s trust enough to buy some opportunity of escape further down the line. It would take time for the right chance to come, she thought, but she could be patient. Perhaps too patient, she feared. She had seen ponies arrive one day and disappear the next, without any cry for alarm or ceremony. One of them claimed his name was Touchdown, the Senate Minister of Culture and Media, though Rarity did not believe him. These cells could drive anypony mad with enough time, no matter their constitution.

No, rather than probe the witch doctor for potential avenues of escape, Rarity was instead content to listen and learn, and complete her tasks as efficiently as possible. Bone Marrow seemed to yearn for somepony to talk to, in fact. These tunnels were lonely for him as well, she figured.

Bone Marrow’s laboratory was a cluttered place; potions of toxic green, fluorescent purple, and glittering gold bubbled by the burning hearth. Nearby, there were bell-shaped cages of three-eyed bats and two-headed snakes, and a spider the size of a cat Bone Marrow had named Poppy. Rarity hated nothing more than the sound the creature made, a wet clicking that might have been laughter, or a plea for food, or perhaps a threat.

Their arrangement had lasted for weeks. She knew she could not endure through this new routine without end, however, though all it would take was one mistake, and Bone Marrow would throw her back into her cell to rot. She had to be bold, but when and how and where were all uncertainties.

Such a venture seemed to be increasingly risky; Bone Marrow’s disposition seemed to be souring with each passing day. Serving under Twilight Sparkle would have such an effect, Rarity figured. His eyes were black pits of exhaustion, and he moved with a haggard limp in his step.

“I want to show you something,” he said one day, catching Rarity in the middle of her letterwork. Rarity set down her quill and ink, glancing up at him with the curious beginnings of a smirk. Be playful. Be harmless. She could not break from the plan, not until her chance came.

Bone Marrow led her to his laboratory. Another experiment, Rarity figured, though the doctor trotted right past his worktable. A new mixture, maybe, she told herself, but the doctor ignored his potion rack. He made instead for the steel-bolted door in the back, unlocking it with a simple spell. Rarity hesitated at the door. She had never been allowed behind the door before. Nopony was, as far as she knew.

The door led into another tunnel, a nightmare of lightless paths that weaved around in such a way that only Bone Marrow himself could navigate it easily.

Rarity followed close behind. She heard scurrying; despite how narrow the walls were, the sounds seemed to come from far away.

Deeper still, she saw the silhouette of a pony in the dark, propped up in a nook in the tunnel wall. The pony, a mare, must have been a corpse, for the horrible sight of her was so alien that Rarity could hardly believe it was once a pony at all. Her coat had been shaved off, as had her mane, and so the pony could scarcely be identified. Rarity thought to interrogate the thing, to ascertain who or what it was. But the creature could not have answered anyway, in the dark Rarity could not see that it lacked a mouth, or eyes, or ears.

“This way,” Bone Marrow said.

He led her at last to a larger chamber at the end of the tunnel, a smaller laboratory, packed to the brim with strange wooden equipment, mingling with tubes and wires and levers, connected to cannisters of strange black liquid, dense like tar.

At the center of the room was a large slab of steel, with some creature strapped down to it, draped in a grey cloth.

“Twilight has need of me,” Bone Marrow said, “The time has come for me to unveil my contribution to the war effort.”

Rarity felt her throat close up. The creature was three times the size of any pony, with strange shapes jutting jaggedly every which way.

“I’ll need your help for the final preparations,” Bone Marrow said, “...I thought it would be fitting that you be here for this. He was your friend, after all.”

Rarity flinched, disarmed by the remark. Bone Marrow dragged the tarp away, wrenching it free from the slab and revealing the creature underneath in all its foul fury.

There was a silence that followed, interrupted only by the creature’s low breathing. Bone Marrow watched Rarity closely, and his eyes lit up once Rarity’s lips began quivering. Frozen in place, her eyes were locked onto the slab and the creature who sat upon it.

“No,” Rarity whispered, feeling her heart sink in her chest, “No, no, no! Oh!”

Rarity’s knees gave out, as Bone Marrow stood solemnly near the workbench. And upright on the bench, strapped in iron restraints was the leathery figure, three times the size he had arrived as.

“It could not suffice to merely bring him back,” Bone Marrow said, “His growth had to be accelerated. This is only the beginning. The strength of our enemy, but with the loyalty we need. Yes. A dragon of our own.”

Spike did not seem to recognize Rarity, who hardly had the stomach to acknowledge that this indeed was Spike, albeit seemingly several years older. A hulking brute of purple and green scales, he was seven feet or more, with wide, unblinking eyes, and rows of knives for teeth. His veins ran black under his skin, and his breath seemed stunted and unsteady.

“What have you done!?!” Rarity screamed, desperately throwing herself away from Bone Marrow on the ground. The doctor glanced at the beast once called Spike, marveling at his own work.

“You did not know he’d been killed,” Bone Marrow sighed. He spoke with a cold indifference. “Be grateful, then. You had no need to grieve. Here he is, Alive.”

“That isn’t Spike!” Rarity roared, “And that isn’t alive!”

“Ah,” Bone Marrow waved her off, “He is, in the ways that matter. I have made the soul material, isolated it, studied it. And here, I have restored it. Ten thousand spellbinders for ten thousand years have searched in vain for the antidote to death. You are the first to witness the pony who’s vindicated them all. He lives. He lives!”

Rarity screamed. She screamed and screamed and tore at her mane, spinning around to face the doorway of the tunnel. She could not look any longer, she could listen to Spike’s ragged little breaths.

Behind her, Bone Marrow sighed.

“You will help me, one way or another,” Bone Marrow said, “I see you are in no condition to continue alongside me. No matter. I will find use for you, yet. Tomorrow. You will see. There are some final trials I need to perform. Trials that require a…test subject.”

Rarity gasped and spun around, only to catch Bone Marrow’s wrench to the face. She fell backwards onto the cold stone, too terrified this time to even scream. The cold took her first, and then the dark.

Glancing over her shoulder, Juno watched the lone galley break across the bay, far off in the distance, riding west toward the sea. From the head of the valley, the green sycamores guarded pockets of scattered stones and wild berry bushes. There were old buildings there too, tucked away in the ridgeside shade. Most were abandoned, and all were withered and worn from the elements.

Further down the valley, a small town stood at the edge of the water, that of Mapleville, with its lonely windmill and coppertop homes and spires of stone. Up on the ridge there were behemoth boulders, cylindrical almost and wearing manes of moss.

The trio was traveling North, along the rutted farm road away from the lake, across the torn fields and through the woods and streams. Juno had taken the lead, racing ahead in a heedless trot until the trees closed in around her. Behind her, Poundcake waddled and Tails sauntered, following as best they could.

Juno heard the howling of wolves from far away, and Poundcake’s heavy breathing. For miles, none of them dared to speak aloud, lest they be overheard by some traveling troop of bandits, or worse, royal soldiers seeking to return them back to the Ruins of Wisteria, where the Surgeon would make certain they paid dearly for their successful escape.

They would be pursued, she knew it. Somepony would find all the guards she had drugged, and then the hue and cry would go up. They would wake the Surgeon and search the castle from crenel to cellar, and when they did they would find a map and dagger missing, along with a sword from the armory, bread and cheese from the kitchens, a baker’s boy, a laborer, and the Surgeon’s own cupbearer. The Surgeon would not come after them himself. Dagger might lead the hunt, or the one they called Duchess, or Chisel, who she loathed the most. No, not them. Coda, she thought, They’ll send Captain Coda. He knew their faces the best, and they were Coda’s prisoners originally, anyway. If the Surgeon catches us, he’ll cut off our hooves and our tongues, Juno thought, and then peel the skin off us.

She was still dressed in her filthy brown blouse; the skirt was torn around her left hip, and she was missing two buttons. She scratched at her stubbly head, and wished she had a hat of some kind to cover herself with.

When they crossed the first stream past Mapleville, Juno led them off the road, following the winding waters for half-a-mile before scrambling out and up a stony bank. If the hunters brought dogs, that might throw them off the scent, Juno thought. They could not stay on the road, she told herself, there was death on the road. Tails and Poundcake did not question her decision. She had the map, after all, and Poundcake was so terrified of being caught that he obeyed her without any thought, as if she too scared him. It was good that he’s scared of me, she thought. That way he’ll do what I say, instead of something stupid.

She should be more frightened herself, she knew. She was only ten, a skinny girl wearing rags and bruises, with a dark forest ahead of her and ponies on her trail who would gladly cut off her hooves.

The rain would start and stop again and start once more, but they had good cloaks to keep dry under. Juno kept them moving at a steady pace. It was too dark beneath the tree canopy to go too fast; the soft broken ground was treacherous, with its half-buried roots and hidden stones.

Up and down the rolling hills she took them, through brambles and briars and tangles of brush, along the bottoms of narrow gullies where wet leaves of green and red fell off heavy branches into the water and mud below.

In time they passed through the White Tail Woods, and through the green valley of the Smoky Mountains. She could feel the air turn colder with each step, as they left the south behind.

They passed through a burned village, threading their way carefully between the ashy hovels, past the bones of a dozen dead ponies hanging from a row of trees. Royal Scum read the sign hanging around one’s neck. When Poundcake saw them he began to pray, a thin plea for mercy. Juno gazed up at the corpses, with their damp, rotting clothes, and she said her own prayer, one for revenge. Her heart hardened as she looked upon each of their faces, briefly, and she saw her mother and father in their stead, dead and dangling. And she heard the corpses speak, or scream, rather - a haunting, lonely sound that only she seemed able to hear. She picked up an apple from below where the dead ponies swung. It was overripe, soft and brown for the most part, but she ate it anyway.

“No more games,” Tails said, after they had left the village, “Where exactly are we going?” Juno had avoided the question for days and days, though she supposed now she would have to be earnest with them both.

“North,” Juno replied, between bites of some wild onions she had foraged for a few days ago.

Poundcake’s eyes darted around. “Which way is north?”

“That way,” Juno said, using her onion to point.

“But there’s no sun,” Poundcake said, “How do you know?”

“Moss,” Juno said, “It mostly grows on the north side of trees.” Her father had told her that.

“The way it’s raining, we’ll have moss growing out of our ears soon,” Tails said.

“Only from the north ear,” Juno said, stubbornly. There was no use trying to convince Tails of anything. Still, he was the only true friend she had, him and Poundcake.

“What’s so great about north, anyway?” Tails wanted to know.

“The Crystal Empire’s in the North,” Juno unrolled her stolen map to show them, “We’re halfway there already. The Northerners are no friends of the royals. We’ll be safe with them.” She declined to mention her plan to find Sunset Shimmer. They were not quite ready to hear that part yet.

“The Empire,” Tails considered, “...You’re sure?”

“We’ll be safe there. Trust me,” Juno said. Princess Cadance had been kind to her, and so she thought they all must be kind in the North.

“Alright,” Tails said, “We’ll go for it.”

Juno smiled, and glanced at Poundcake, who was anxiously pawing at his foreleg.

“I won’t make it much longer eating berries and grass,” Poundcake said, “But I’m coming.”

“Good,” Juno said, rolling up the map and stowing it away in her cloak.

“Could we sleep first, at least?” Poundcake asked, “My hooves are sore. I think they’ve got cracks.”

“You’ll get worse than that if we stop for too long,” Juno pointed out, “We’ve got to keep going. We’ve got to.”

Juno found her own exhaustion weighing heavy on her. She needed sleep as much as Poundcake did. But if they slept, they might open their eyes to find the Surgeon standing over them with Chisel and Dagger and Duchess and Raccoon and all his other monsters.

Yet after a while, she found her eyes growing heavy. She let them close as she trotted on, just for an instant, then snapped them wide again. I can’t go to sleep, she screamed at herself silently. I can’t, I can’t. She could not sustain pace, and it was only a few moments before her eyes closed a second time. This time they did not open so quickly.

When they did, she found herself lying in the grass off the side of the road, propped nearby a boulder. Tails was beside her, his gaze fixed towards the road. He noticed her stir. “You fell asleep,” he said.

“I was just resting my eyes.”

“You were resting them a long while, then. You were gonna fall right on your face, if I hadn’t caught you. Poundcake’s just as bad, he fell asleep and ran right into a tree limb. You should’ve heard him yell. Even that didn’t wake you up. You need to stop and sleep.”

“I can keep going as long as you can,” Juno yawned.

“Liar,” Tails said, “You keep going if you want to be stupid, but I’m stopping. I’ll take the first watch. You sleep.”

“What about Poundcake?” Juno asked,

Tails pointed. Poundcake was already on the ground, curled up beneath his cloak on a bed of damp leaves and snoring softly. He had a big wedge of cheese in one hoof, but it looked as though he had fallen asleep between bites.

Juno supposed Tails had the right of it. The Surgeon’s ponies would need to sleep too, she told herself. She hoped so, at least. The ground was hard and damp. She wondered how long it would be before she could sleep in a bed again, with hot food and a fire to warm her. The last thing she did before closing her eyes was try and picture her mother’s face. But the image did not come easily, and she quickly abandoned the task, deciding instead to give into her exhaustion and fall away into the black.

A fistful of frozen rain lashed against Orion’s face as he spurred across the swollen stream. Beside him, Captain Corvus Clash gave the hood of his cloak a tug, muttering curses in the wind. His pet raven sat on his shoulder, feathers ruffled, as soaked and irritable as the Old Crow himself.

Reflections glimmered off the frozen edges of the Giant’s Stair, where every crack and crevice glittered pale blue.

Orion scraped the frost off of his horn; he had not forgotten all the stories Captain Clash liked to tell about horns freezing over and snapping off in the cold. He had not believed as much at first, having spent his entire life in the Frozen North. But up in the Crystal Mountains where the rangers roamed, the cold was unlike anything he had ever suffered, and it was a lucky day to be anywhere close to freezing.

Rain stabbed at his eyes, and as he shut them his thoughts turned to Rhinefrost miles away, to home. The melting ice would be mingling with the rain to feed the frozen rivers. Bellflower and Broadwing would be sitting near the fire in the Great Hall, drinking cups of mulled wine before their supper. Uncle Blackburn would be telling his stories in his old leather chair that only he found to be comfortable. And Boreas and Primrose would be by the window, watching the rain, savoring the quiet. He had found it a strange custom when he was little, and now he found it unthinkable. His wet wool clung to him sodden and itching, his neck and shoulders ached from the weight of his mail, and he was sick from a month’s diet of hard cheese and sawdust bread.

It was Primrose who had sentenced him to this fate, to wander the mountains with this troop of convicts and castaways. Each time the courier paid them a visit, he would clamber to the front of the line, desperate for news of his brother’s war. Defeated at the Galloping Gorge. Unaccounted for. That was the last missive, short in length but enough to give Orion three nights without sleep. I should have been beside him. I should have died, not him.

He had long withheld himself from loathing Primrose the way she seemed to loathe him, though to know that it was her who parted the brothers in such a dire hour, where their lives could be easily forfeit, tested his resolve.

The look she would give him had never changed, not since the moment she laid eyes on him, not since the doctors all fell silent, when the second-born son of Prince Boreas emerged a unicorn, despite being the son of two pegasi. Recessive genes, some of the doctors insisted, but ponies seemed to favor an alternative explanation, one in which they could deride his mother Primrose as a faithless adulterer, who shared a bed with another pony. There had not been a unicorn in either family for generations, after all, and so such an outcome dared to defy any rationality. Primrose had long maintained that she had never betrayed Boreas, that Orion’s birth was some genetic anomaly, though nopony was ever convinced. Even Boreas, who had loved her so, turned cold towards her and everypony else for years to come, and to Orion most of all. A walking, breathing reminder of Primrose’s alleged infidelity, who still had to be raised as the son of a prince.

“Would that I could prove that you are not mine,” was what Boreas had told him once, and Orion could hardly forget it. There were days he felt relief to know his father was dead, and other days where he even fantasized about Broadwing dying as well, so that he could claim the throne for himself. If only father could see that. He would curse himself for such wicked thoughts. He loved his brother of course, and his sister and mother and father too, in a strange way.

Up ahead a hunting horn sounded a trembling note, drowning in the downpour.

“Buckwell’s horn,” the Old Crow barked, “Luna be good. We’ve made it.”

His raven gave a single flap of his wings, croaked “Luna,” and ruffled his feathers again.

Orion had often heard the rangers tell tales of Star Swirl and his cottage at the Crown of Thorns. Now he would see it with his own eyes. Perhaps the Old Crow would get his answers. No matter what, we’ll be out of the rain.

Black Bastion swore that Star Swirl was a friend to the rangers, despite his unsavory reputation. “He’s half-mad,” he said to the Old Crow, “But you’d be the same if you spent your days up here in these cursed mountains. Even so, he’s never turned a ranger away from his fire. He’ll give us good counsel.”

Captain Clash had not been glad to have to seek out Star Swirl, though he had been left with no other choice. The twelve deserters that had fled the Crystal City were scattered across the mountains, and the rangers had been tasked to find them and bring them to justice. But these deserters were resourceful in the wilderness, and except for the two they had found buried in the snow, they had eluded capture for days on end.

So long as Star Swirl gives us a hot meal and a chance to dry our clothes, I’ll be happy, Orion thought. Dirk said Star Swirl was a murderer, a liar, and a craven, and even hinted that he trafficked with slavers and demons from other realms. “And worse,” Dirk had added, “There’s a cold smell to him, there is.”

“Orion,” Captain Clash commanded, “Ride back along the column and spread the word.”

“Captain,” Orion nodded, turning around back the way he’d come. He was glad to have the rain out of his face. Everypony he passed seemed to be weeping. The march stretched through half a mile of the woods, that climbed up the snowy slopes toward the top of the stair, where Star Swirl’s cottage sat out of view.

In the midst of the baggage train, Orion passed Fuchs, slumped and sauntering.

“You’re going the wrong way, Orion,” Fuchs growled. The pony was rumored to have been a guard at Hellhatch before joining the rangers, though Orion had his doubts. With all the stories he had heard about that place, he struggled to picture the usually-good-natured Fuchs serving such a wicked role.

“We’ve made it, just up there,” Orion said, “Need a rest?”

“I’ll rest when I’m dead,” Fuchs said, “Mully says Star Swirl is a demon-worshiping warlock. That he obeys no laws but those he makes himself. And Dirk told Rudge he’s got black blood in his veins. That he was some abomination, unnatural.”

“I know the feeling,” Orion said, “We’ll talk later.”

Orion carried the word back to Tatters, plodding along with the rear guard. A small prune-faced pony of an age with Clash, Tatters always looked tired.

On his way back, Orion swung wide of the column’s march and took a shorter path through the thick of the wood. Soon all he could hear was the steady rain against leaf and tree and rock. It was mid-afternoon, yet the forest was as dark as dusk. Orion wove a path between rocks and puddles, past great oaks, grey-green giants, and black-barked corpses. Passing a husk of a tree blasted by lightning, he heard something rustle in the underbrush.

Orion’s horn ignited, instinctively, but it was only Florence who emerged from the ferns, and young Rudge. The Old Crow had deployed outriders to either side of the main column, to screen their march and warn of any approaching enemies. Bandits were the most common, though they had to look out for royal insurgents now, too.

“Ah, it’s just you,” Florence smiled, “Thought me and the boy had one of them windigos to deal with. Lost, princeling?”

“Shortcut,” Orion replied, curtly. Florence was the only mare in the rangers, and while some mares may have found that a cause for discomfort, she happened to love being fawned over. She was formidable as well, a strong-enough fighter to have been named First Scout two years in a row. Very rarely did any stallion make any attempt on her, and when they did they almost always came up short.

“The best thing about rain like this, it saves me from having to shower,” Florence laughed.

“Buckwell’s found Star Swirl,” Orion told her.

“Had he lost him?” Florence snickered, “See that you young bucks don’t go nosing about that wizard’s trinkets, y’hear?”

Orion smiled. “Want them all for yourself, Florence?”

Florence grinned. “Might be I do, princeling. Star Swirl’s brain has been freezing up here for years. I’d be surprised if he remembers what it is he’s even got. C’mon then, let’s move.”

Orion had pictured some sort of cozy winter cottage. What they found instead was a smoking heap, where the fires had done their worst. The study and living chambers may have escaped the inferno, though the workshop was all but a ruin. There was a dreadful silence that came with the snowfall, as the blackened wreckage of stone and wood was buried. Shattered, warped equipment came poking out from the snow like branches of fallen trees.

The cottage was left a lonely place, when the sun had set on some terrible battle, and fewer there were to breathe in the wretched air that reeked of fresh blood and sulfur.

Forsaken and festering in the black, three tallow candles stood upon the collapsed windowsill, and four more sat by the dusty tomes, stacked haphazardly and spilling out of the shelves. No sign of life remained, nothing but faded hoofsteps in the snow.

“What the hell happened here?” asked Mad Axe Mully.

“Luna be good. It’s destroyed,” Captain Clash growled.

“The deserters couldn’t have done this,” came the Ratcatcher, picking at his teeth and leaning on his spear, “And Star Swirl’s gone. Look at the tracks.”

Orion followed the others’ gaze towards the tracks in the snow. There were ashy blasts that stained parts of the snow grey, and elsewhere prints that led away towards the southern descent down the stair.

Captain Clash growled.

“Florence,” the Old Crow said, “Take two and search the forest for any signs of what happened. The rest of you, scour this wreck, look for clues. He might be out there, somewhere. Or what’s left of him.”

Orion leapt to begin searching the ruin of Star Swirl’s cottage, though a hoof caught him by the collar first.

“Not so fast,” came Florence, “You’re with me, princeling. We might need one of your shortcuts coming back.” Fuchs was beside her, grabbing at his aching back.

The three of them set out into the woods, horn and sword and shield at the ready.

“Some spell mishap, I’d wager,” Fuchs offered.

“There were signs of a struggle,” Orion pointed out.

“Who’d want to pick a fight with him?” Fuchs asked.

“Wait,” Florence said, catching the attention of the other two, “Over there….You see that?”

Orion followed Florence’s hoof further off into the snow, stained a deep blue under the canopy of skeletal branches.

Narrowing his eyes, he saw it. A shape in the snow, buried in blue light.

“What is that?” Fuchs asked.

“By Luna, it’s a pony,” Orion realized, throwing his bag to the ground, trudging over to take a closer look.

Approaching the pony, he saw she was half-buried in the snow, bruised and battered but intact, and breathing.

“She’s alive,” Orion assured, glancing over to Fuchs and Florence as they approached.

She was a unicorn, with a coat of pink and a mane of purple and turquoise.

Orion reached down towards her, and touched her by the shoulder.

She sprang to life, twitching and gasping and darting back against the tree she had been thrown up against.

“Orion,” Florence said, motioning for him to get back.

“Celestia be damned,” Fuchs muttered. Orion glanced at him, “Keep back…”

Florence had her wing resting over the hilt of her sword.

“I know her,” Fuchs said, his voice thin and hollow. He reached for Florence’s hoof, prompting her to draw back her blade.

“That’s Starlight Glimmer!”

Below the streets of Starhaven, buried under snow and stone, the prince watched his scrapes freeze over in the dark, sitting up against the wooden boards of the basement.

“Take it,” Broadwing said, dangling the blanket in the air.

“I’m fine,” replied Windchill from the dark.

“You’re shivering,” Broadwing grunted, “Take it.”

Windchill’s eyes darted past the candle’s flame. She growled something and accepted the offer, wrapping herself in the blanket and sighing in relief.

Broadwing watched her shut her eyes, bundling herself up to conserve as much warmth as she could. She was the last remnant of his army, for all he knew. Six thousand creatures had marched beside him into the Galloping Gorge, and now only one remained at his side.

The prince’s attempt to retreat north to Seaguard had failed. The royals, led by Styles and his company called the War Boys, had pursued the Imperials into the Northern Highlands, scattering them across the countryside. Broadwing and a few hundred of his soldiers had made the grueling march to Starhaven. He had been ready to fight for their right to quarter, but thankfully Lady Ophelia had received them with open arms. Styles had arrived only a day later, but by then the Imperials had hidden themselves away in the attics and basements of the Starhaven inhabitants. Broadwing and Windchill had found themselves in the basement of Peach’s, a tavern, where Ophelia would pay them a daily visit.

“He’s going door to door,” Ophelia reported earlier that day, “He’s put ponies in crow cages. We’ve done our part, but I cannot watch on as my ponies bleed. Please tell me Shining Armor won’t be long.”

“He’ll be here soon, if the message got through,” Broadwing assured. If. The letters he had managed to send out were as specific as he could be. Starhaven. No time. Styles is coming.

All day and all night, all he could do was wait. He could not beat Styles, not with his meager force of starved survivors. Part of him thought he had nothing to lose anymore. He had disgraced himself in battle, leading thousands of ponies to their deaths. And now he was cowering underground like some rat.

“I have to go up there,” Broadwing said aloud, when at last he had grown so restless he was itching to jump up and run for the passage above ground. Windchill glared at him.

“Don’t be stupid. Shining will be here soon,” Windchill said.

“Ponies are dying up there,” Broadwing said.

“If you die, all of this will have been in vain,” Windchill reminded, “They don’t blame you for anything.”

“They should. It's my fault we're here,” Broadwing said, “We took too long to get through the gorge.”

“You did all you could,” Windchill said, “It could’ve been worse. They could’ve captured you, or killed you. There're more battles to come. You've got to keep your head on straight and focus on what’s ahead. Ponies depend on you.”

Broadwing sat back against the dirt wall. “My father always said, the great leaders lead without any effort. They are born, not made, he said. I'm afraid he might've been right.”

Windchill’s eyes fell to the ground.

“So many ponies dread becoming their parents,” Broadwing said, “But my father, he was everything I wanted to be. He would attend to every member of the household at Rhinefrost, no matter how low their station. He’d invite the castle staff to dine with us each night. He’d visit his liege lords wide and far, and knew how to keep a budget and plan for the future. It was him who ruled the North before the Crystal Empire returned, and it was him who bent his knee to Princess Cadance and convinced all the other Northern kingdoms to do the same. They loved him. Everypony did. He was kind, but just, he was merciful, but strong. He would let me learn at his side, take me to council and court and learn from him every step of the way. I’ve failed him. If he had lived but a year longer, he could have fought this war in my place, and done what I can't.”

“You speak as though the war is over,” Windchill said, “You’re alive, and so am I, and so the war is not over. When you stood before the high lords at that council table, you spoke of honor and duty and glory. Have you forgotten? Our princess still needs us. We have to fight for her.”

Broadwing eyed her.

“Honor, duty, glory,” he repeated, staring off into space, “...I left home to fight a war. But this war is not just of swords and spells, it’s of marriage pacts and letters and plots. I'm out of my depth. My own betrothed was decided for me by my prince without me knowing. My own brother was forced away from me to appease my mother. Where I am supposed to have power, I falter, or else my fate is decided for me. They say I am a prince, but I am toothless.”

“Many and more are still loyal to you,” Windchill said, “You are our prince. Whatever you want, you should take.”

Broadwing eyed her, and noticed her eyes were locked onto him from across the room. He smirked, and Windchill laughed silently to herself, glancing at the ground.

“It would be unbecoming,” he said, gently, “I’ve told you before. And now I’m engaged, it would be….It would not be right.”

Windchill glared at him, sulking and crossing her forelegs.

“Perhaps you are toothless,” she said, “I’ve seen the way you look at me, since we were foals. You’re still just a scared little boy. Do I frighten you so much, my prince?”

“First you scold me about my honor, now you tempt me to abandon it,” Broadwing growled, waving her off.

“To abandon an agreement you never wanted, nor consented to,” Windchill said, “You never got the chance to sign that letter.”

Broadwing had forgotten that, and his brow unfurrowed.

Windchill smiled, suspecting she had won some ground.

“If you are so eager to die, my prince,” Windchill said, “Perhaps attempt to live, first.”

Broadwing eyed her, and he had almost forgotten to breathe then, when Windchill sat herself up, gazing over at him beyond the candle flame.

He had made it to his knees when Windchill slipped out of the blanket to crawl over towards him. Their lips met before Broadwing’s hoof reached the candle, snuffing the flame.

He had never wanted a squire.

Wedge Ward was moving slower than he used to, dragging his hooves under the weight of his armor, as he stalked the corridors of the Canterlot palace, returning salutes and forcing a smile. He was not glad to have received the summons, but Twilight was not a pony he could keep waiting.

He had only just finished assigning a unit to keep Queen Ocean Flow’s quarters under night-and-day guard. She had sworn she had no knowledge of her husband’s treachery, and was not consulted in regard to the hippogriffs’ change of sides, but that did not matter to Twilight. She would make a valuable hostage, she thought, and Wedge was inclined to agree. She had rarely left her room anyways, so it would not be much of an adjustment.

The boy had been waiting for him outside the great doors of carved marble guarding the throne room beyond. Wedge recognized him, not by his armor or rank, but by the feathers he wore in place of a coat, a golden beak for a mouth, and those curved talons that scraped at the floor.

“Private Gallus,” Wedge grunted, alarmed to see him on duty outside the throne room, when such a role was typically reserved only for a member of the Nine. The Nine are stretched thin, he recalled, but this was no less strange. “What are you doing here?”

“Orders came from upstairs. Well, actually this floor, I guess. We are at the top, right?,” Gallus smirked, “I was waiting for you to show up, waiting with bated breath. Wasn’t sure those knees of yours could survive the climb up those stairs.”

“Waiting. Why?” Wedge asked, hesitantly.

“Princess Twilight thought you needed some help around here,” Gallus said, bowing his head, “So….Guess I’m at your service, Captain.”

Wedge frowned. He already had enough problems to deal with. A squire following him around was the last thing he needed. He could very well be a spy for Twilight. Working day and night to spare this city from annihilation was apparently not enough to convince her of his loyalty. Breathe down my neck all you like. I won’t break like all the others.

“Alright. C’mon then,” Wedge said, moving for the doors. Gallus nodded, and Wedge saw the boy’s smirk slip off his face, as he glanced back at the doors. Twilight had that effect, Wedge supposed.

Wedge opened the doors in an aura of orange magic. His eyes immediately locked onto Twilight at the other end of the hall, clinging onto her throne as if she feared it was going to run away.

She was not alone - Prickly Pear and Grey Wick were stationed by the throne, while Featherglass stood near the throne steps, lurching over like a bird inspecting its prey. Wedge was glad not to see Anatole - the Belsavic naval admiral had lingered in the palace far longer than he should’ve. Wedge would often catch the smirking worm slithering out from Twilight’s quarters late in the evening, always on account of some ‘private negotiations.’

“Captain, you’re early,” Twilight said, adjusting her gaze away from Featherglass. Featherglass was all sharp features, with a piercing pair of green-gray eyes, like a cat’s eyes. He must have just been telling a joke, as he was still winding down from laughter. But when he laughed, his eyes did not.

“I pray I’m not interrupting,” Wedge said.

“Not at all. We’re almost finished here. I see you’ve met Gallus,” Twilight smiled, “I hope it’s not a bother, Captain. I only thought you could use some extra support.”

Wedge forced a smile. “I’m very grateful, your grace."

“What do you have to report?”

“In three days, Cinder and her army will be at our gates. She’s just been through Appleloosa and Red Rock. Hawkbit has repelled the dragons at Ashford and Everfree, but Bull’s Bluff is vulnerable, and Dodge City too. If any one section of the front fails, the dragons will move for Canterlot next. I’ve given the order to evacuate Ponyville, just in case. Here, the city gates will remain open for as long as possible, but any refugees who need asylum need to make haste.”

“Asylum?” Featherglass smirked, “They won’t find it here, for all your efforts, Captain. No matter what tricks you have planned, the numbers make things plain. As things are, the dragons will take this city, and kill all who defend it.”

Wedge meant to give his rebuttal, though Twilight raised a hoof to silence him.

“He’s right, Wedge,” Twilight admitted, “All we have is half of one division. We won’t be able to withstand the dragons, not for long … We must call for aid.”

“And who will come?” Wedge laughed, knowingly risking Twilight’s ire, “We have no friends left to bail us out, your grace. The changelings, hippogriffs, and Imperials have joined together. The griffons refuse to get involved. No one else has an army large enough to make a difference.”

“Your former pupil does,” Twilight corrected.

Wedge’s face became twisted. Gallus shot him a cautious look.

“Vertigo has kept our envoy as a hostage. He’ll betray us,” Wedge reminded.

“Perhaps he picked up his stubborn insolence from his mentor. But I believe that our goals still align. He’s won the hearts of the southron, and has collected hundreds of scattered soldiers all across the Great Plains. We have more of a chance at reasoning with him than we ever would with my brother or Pharynx. He’s close enough in distance that he can still reach the city before it’s overwhelmed, but we must be quick in sending a messenger.”

Wedge’s eyes darted over toward Featherglass, and he immediately drew a dreadful conclusion.

“Him?” Wedge gawked. Featherglass may have known much about coin and commerce, but war negotiations were hardly his arena. “You’d put the fate of Equestria in his hooves?”

“He has yet to fail me, which is more than I can say for you,” Twilight said, coldly, recalling Silver Stream’s abduction.

“You’re aware you’re putting your life on the line to do this,” Wedge remarked to Featherglass, presuming some ulterior motive.

“Her grace has graciously offered to appoint me as Lord Protector of the Lowlands, should I successfully broker the alliance with your rebellious protege,” Featherglass said, “A rather persuasive offer.”

“Your grace might recall you already offered that title to Hydrangea,” Wedge reminded, skeptically.

“And the Greens will keep thinking that, for now. We need to entice them if they are to lend us their support. Once the dust is settled, Lady Azimuth can be content to see her daughter wed to Prince Heirloom. That’s enough of a reward to satiate her, that wrinkled little crone.” Twilight said.

“False promises bring false triumphs,” Wedge said, “The Greens are dangerous ponies to cross, your grace.”

“Everything they hope to have, they will only get through me. They gain nothing from the dragons succeeding and slaughtering us all,” Twilight said.

“Fine. Say we succeed, and Lady Delphi takes a royal husband, this boy Heirloom, a foal mind you … What will Vertigo have to say about that?” Wedge said, “From every account I’ve heard, he and Delphi are….thoroughly involved with one another.”

Twilight shrugged.

“I offered her a prince. If the girl would rather wed a rebel brigand, so be it. Azimuth is not the fool her daughter seems to be, though, so I think they will act in the family’s interest. Now, be good and escort Featherglass to his carriage. We have no time to waste.”

Wedge held in his sigh and stepped out of the way to follow after Featherglass, who gave a proper bow before trotting off back towards the doors.

Gallus skipped to keep up with Wedge, glancing back at Twilight as he followed Wedge.

“My lord treasurer,” Wedge said, once the three of them had exited out the throne room doors, “Is it wise for you to travel alone? I could have Gallus here accompany you.”

“I’ll move faster alone, Captain,” Featherglass said, “The next time we meet, I’ll have an army behind me. You can thank me in advance for the rescue.”

Wedge watched Featherglass slither off, while Gallus raised an eyebrow.

“Trying to get rid of me already?” Gallus grinned, “Why’s she sending him? It would be a bad look for the city to fall a week after I get promoted.”

Wedge glanced at him.

“He might bring help. He might not. This city isn’t safe either way,” Wedge said, “The Greens have the numbers to take this city, just as much as the dragons do. Twilight thinks we’re all on the same page, but I’m not so sure.”

“So what are you saying? We’re screwed no matter what?”

Wedge glared at him, and put his hoof back on his scabbard.

“Not as long as we do our job,” he said, “We have work to do, boy. Let’s move.”

Juno was digging through the dead pony’s garden when she first heard the singing.

She stiffened, still as stone, and had completely forgotten about the discolored carrots dangling out of her mouth.

She thought of the Surgeon and the Traveling Circus, and a chill ran down her spine. It’s not fair, not when we thought we were almost safe.

Only, why would the Surgeon’s ponies be singing?

The song came drifting up the river from somewhere beyond the hill. Over by the cabbages, Poundcake had heard it too, at least by the look on his face.

She thought she had heard a lyre too, beneath the soft susurrus of the river. The woods nearby were thin and scattered, where Tails had gone off to rest while the others went foraging.

“Do you hear that?” Poundcake whispered, as he hugged the cabbages, “Somepony’s coming!”

“Go wake Tails,” Juno ordered, “Just shake him by the shoulder, don’t make a lot of noise.”

Tails was easy to wake, unlike Poundcake, who needed to be kicked and shouted at.

Poundcake went, and Juno dropped her carrots and drew her stolen sword from over her shoulder. She had strapped the sheath across her back. It was too heavy for her, but it was a sword and she could kill with it, and that was enough.

She crept over to the willow tree that grew beside the bend in the road, and went to her knees in the grass and mud, behind a veil of bushes and branches. Poundcake and Tails had darted around behind the broken grey brick wall by the river’s edge, and she could not see them anymore from her vantage.

The song grew louder as clopping hooves came in stride down the dirt road. Then the song broke off suddenly. He’s heard us, Juno knew, But maybe he’s alone, or if he’s not, maybe they’ll be as scared of us as we are of them.

“Do you hear that?” a stallion’s voice said, “Behind that wall.”

“Hm,” replied a second voice, a mare’s, “What could it be?”

Two, then. Juno bit her lip. She could not see them from where she knelt, on account of the tree. But she could hear.

“Could be a wolf. Or a deer. Or a bug? A beast? A bandit?” came a third voice, or perhaps the first one again.

“No way of knowing. What do you mean to do with all those arrows?”

“Send a few shafts over the wall. Whatever’s hiding back there will come out quick enough, just watch.”

“What if it’s some honest pony?”

“An honest pony would come out and show us his face. Only an outlaw would skulk and keep out of sight.”

“Hm. Alright. Go on and loose your shafts, then.”

Juno sprang to her hooves. “No!” She brought up her sword, but only briefly, before she lost against its weight and dropped it to the ground. There were three, she saw. One mare and two stallions.

They were soldiers-at-arms, travel-stained and mud-speckled. She knew the singer by the lyre he had latched at his side.

The mare was a purplish-white unicorn with a short, black mane and deep purple eyes. The taller of the two stallions, the archer, had a fiery red mane, a face full of freckles, and pale gold coat, and the shorter, the singer, was a pale mossy green, with a curly mane of green and dark blue. All of them wore white armor. White. Did royals wear white? Or did the Northerners?

The three soldiers looked at her, standing there in the road with her blade in hoof. Then the singer idly plucked a string.

“Boy,” the mare said, “Drop the sword, unless you want to get hurt.”

“It’s too big for you, anyways. And Sunburn here could shoot you full of holes before you could hope to reach us,” the singer added.

“He could not,” Juno countered, “And I’m a girl.”

“Pardon me,” the singer bowed.

“You go on down the road, back the way you came. Keep singing that song, so we know where you are. Go away and leave us be and I won’t kill you.”

The freckled archer laughed.

“Girl,” said the singer, “Put the sword down and we’ll take you to a safe place and get some food in you. These lands are no place for a little girl to be wandering alone.”

“She’s not alone.” Tails had appeared from behind the broken wall, and behind him Poundcake.

“Do as she said, and go away,” Tails warned.

“Ah. Is that all of you?” the singer counted, “Would you tell us your names, like good honest ponies?”

“I’m Poundcake,” Poundcake replied at once.

Tails scowled. “Why should I tell you my name? You haven’t given us yours.”

“I’m Treble Clef,” the singer introduced, “These are my friends, Sunburn and Echo.” Echo, the mare, had her eyes fixed on Juno.

“That’s an army sword you’re wielding,” Echo noticed. She had become uneasy, and so had Juno.

“They’re just foals,” Treble Clef said, his grin fading.

“Foals with a stolen sword,” Echo said, “We should take them back with us.”

“We’re not going with you,” Juno said.

Echo’s horn ignited.

“If you’re not spies, then you have nothing to fear from us,” Echo said, “Come with us. We’ll get you fed and cleaned.”

Juno tried to lift up the sword, but Echo was quicker. Her spell sent the sword flying out of Juno’s hooves.

“Run!” Juno yelled at the others, but Sunburn had his bow drawn, the arrow held between his teeth.

Echo had her horn pointed at Juno, who could do nothing but stare up with her mouth agape.

They had been spared chains and fetters, a marked improvement from their time as prisoners of the Surgeon. The whole journey with the soldiers was spent to the tune of Treble’s songs and Sunburn’s jokes. Echo, who must have been the commanding officer, seemed to be more anxious than the other two. I should run for it, Juno thought, but they were heading north anyway, and she was still not sure whose side these ponies were even on.

When they came to the soldiers’ war camp, they saw it went on for miles and miles, over the edge of the ridge and on and on without end.

The sky glowed orange and red over the bank, for all of the lanterns and torches fixed about the camp.

“Take those two to the armorer,” Echo instructed, “I’ll handle this one.”

“Wait,” Juno said, unwilling to let them be separated.

But Tails and Poundcake were led away, while she was stuck with Echo, who dragged her through the camp.

Echo brought her to the tent at the center of the camp, a modest structure guarded at every entrance by pairs of soldiers.

Inside the tent, they came upon a mare, a unicorn, with a wavy platinum blonde mane tied up in a ponytail, snow white coat, and icy blue eyes. Juno froze the instant she saw the horn. Another unicorn. Could this be Sunset Shimmer? It was too soon, she wasn't ready yet. She needed her friends. She needed a weapon. She needed help.

“You’re back,” the snow white mare smiled, “Any sign of Hardball?”

“His forces are on the march,” Echo reported, “We found this one on the way back. Had a royal sword with her.”

“This little girl?” the snow white mare asked. “Echo. She’s a foal.”

“And a spy too, maybe. I wouldn’t put it past the Northerners, commander.” Echo said.

The commander seemed tired. She waved for Echo to leave the tent, and the lieutenant complied.

As soon as Echo had left, the commander took a step closer. Juno panicked and darted across the room, only for the pony to catch her in an aura of magic.

“Let me go!” Juno screamed. All she could think about then was Hask. I need to move. I need to get free. Don't touch me. Let go. Let go. Let go! She screamed again and felt herself begin to cry, suspended in the air. For all the times she had envisioned confronting Sunset Shimmer, now she knew was a fool she was, a foolish little girl sobbing and thrashing about helplessly.

“Tails!” she yelled, “Poundcake!” Where were they when she needed them?

She felt herself touch down again, but was so terrified she could hardly move.

“Stop! I’m sorry!” she said, “I didn’t mean to - Please, don’t touch me!”

Juno flinched when the unicorn approached. The unicorn stopped, and she seemed close to tears herself.

“I-I’m not going to hurt you,” the unicorn said, horrified with herself for having scared Juno so much. She knelt in front of Juno, before slowly raising her hoof towards Juno’s face. Juno darted back away from the unicorn’s hoof, frantic like a cornered animal.

“Who are you?” the commander asked, softly. Juno wiped at her eyes.

“I’m Juno,” Juno introduced, “I-I-I’m…”

“It’s OK. You’re safe. You’re safe. What happened to you?” the pony said, her voice thin and rasped, “I’m Snowfall Glitter. How did you get here?”

“We’re just trying to get North,” Juno explained, backing away from Snowfall.

Snowfall’s glare softened. “Let me get you some food.”

Juno said nothing, watching with wide eyes as Snowfall rose up and telekinetically lifted over a bowl of fruit from one of the tables near the edges of the tent.

She set the bowl down in front of Juno, and kept her distance.

Juno sniffed at the fruit and picked at it. Overwhelmed by the allure of fresh produce, she glanced up at Snowfall and back at the bowl, before tearing into the feast as Snowfall watched on, hesitantly.

“You’re filthy. Let me get you cleaned up, and get you some fresh clothes,” Snowfall said, kneeling down again.

Only then did Juno take a good look at the unicorn. Her face did not seem cruel, not like Duchess or how she remembered Sunset Shimmer. She was pretty, with a soft blonde wavy mane and a snow white face. Her eyes were icy blue, cold, tired, and disarming.

She could not trust this pony, not really, not yet. But she could give her a chance, and the offer of a bath and fresh clothes was a tempting one. Juno’s entire coat was caked in dirt, and so she looked to be the color grey rather than her usual creamy tan.

Snowfall drew a bath using pails of water from outside, while Juno lingered in the tent, examining the scratches on Snowfall’s white armor hanging on a rack. There was one ashy dent right on the upper plate, right around where the heart would be.

Once Snowfall had drawn the bath, Juno climbed out of her filthy brown garb and eagerly climbed inside.

Snowfall was even gentler than her mother had ever been, scrubbing her down with soap, staining the water black from all the dirt. Juno missed the feeling of her mane getting wet, and wondered how long it would take for it to grow back. Snowfall took extra care not to scrub too hard at her scalp, which was particularly sensitive ever since Dagger’s knife sliced off all of her mane. Juno was glad that Snowfall had not remarked on her missing mane.

When Juno was finally clean, she climbed out of the tub and allowed Snowfall to dry her off with a towel. Overcome by relief at the sight of the color of her coat, Juno almost felt like crying, and part of her wanted to run into Snowfall's arms and never leave, but she controlled herself, remembering that she had trusted Hask and Coda, only for them to betray her later. Snowfall fetched her something to wear to keep her warm, a page’s tunic that belonged to her former squire.

“...I’ll arrange for an armed escort to take you and your friends to somewhere safe. Baltimare, maybe,” Snowfall said, struggling to think of anywhere she could definitely call safe.

“No,” Juno said, “North. I have to go North!”

Juno held her tongue before she said too much about her true task, to find and kill Sunset Shimmer.

“The war is in the North. It isn’t safe,” Snowfall said.

“Then, maybe, I…I can stay with you,” Juno said, deciding on the plan on the spot.

Snowfall hesitated.

“With me is the last place you should be,” Snowfall said, “I won’t have foals running around in my camp.”

“I won’t run around. I’ll be good, I promise!” Juno said, eagerly, “Please. I want to help. I…I could be your cupbearer!” She thought she had made a good cupbearer back at Wisteria, even if the Surgeon never told her as much.

Snowfall sighed, shaking her head.

“Cupbearer?” she considered.

“Please, I have nowhere else to go,” Juno said. If Snowfall’s troops took her away, she would be set back weeks. She had to stay, and wait to find a chance to escape north.

“...Alright. But only until we take Haverford,” Snowfall said, curtly.

Juno approached Snowfall, unsure how to express her gratitude. She knelt down and lowered her head.

“Thank you, Commander,” Juno said.

Snowfall smiled, and quickly bent down to help Juno up to her hooves.

“And…my friends?” Juno asked.

“I’ll make sure they’re taken good care of,” Snowfall said, “OK, soldier. You can sleep in my bed tonight, until I can find you some suitable quarters. I’ll be right out here if you need anything.”

“Really?” Juno asked, still suspicious.

Snowfall nodded, sitting down right in the dirt, leaning beside her chest.

Juno beamed. She was practically out of breath, overcome by relief. And she thought of home then, not of how it had been taken from her, but of how it once was. She found Snowfall’s bed in the other chamber of the tent, and for the first time in days, she could sleep soundly.

“You’re supposed to be dead.”

Starlight Glimmer tore into the bag of rations the ranger had given her. He was the only one brave enough to get anywhere near her. But it was Fuchs who had spoken, gripping his spear with two hooves. She had not thought to find him in such a place, adrift on this snowy mountain slope. She recalled throwing him off the catwalk back at Hellhatch, and all the nights she had spent wondering if he had survived. He had been kind to her, and so she had regretted what she had done, and was glad to see him alive.

Her head was still pounding from the blow that had sent her tumbling off the ridge, tossing through brush, rock, and snow. She had lost consciousness to the sound of a thundering crack, what she had thought was her head splitting open, but it was only her foreleg snapping. She did not mind the pain; her encounter with Twilight had been worse, after all. She must have been the first pony in all of Equestria to survive two fights with an alicorn.

She could not recall much of what had happened, only that the battle had taken an hour or more, wreaking such devastation that the mountain itself seemed to shudder and quake, and the surrounding woods had been set ablaze.

Starlight had only begun to rouse when the rangers, this motley trio of crystal soldiers, found her. She would have to be careful here; there could be more lurking nearby.

“Thank you,” she said at last, grateful for the food the black-haired ranger had given her.

“I’m Orion,” he introduced, “This is Florence, and Fuchs, and….you’re….you’re…”

“Starlight,” she sighed, exhausted, “Don’t look so terrified. I’ve had enough fighting for one day, if you couldn’t tell.”

“What happened? What are you doing out here?” Florence demanded, “And how are you alive?”

Starlight was too preoccupied with her own thoughts to hear what Florence had said. Star Swirl, she thought, where has he gone? The wand, does he have it? And then there was Discord, that duplicitous draconequus; he had fled the scene shortly after the first blaze of fire, and had escaped with both Eight Ball and the Witch’s Wand, Star Swirl’s prized invention. As for the wizard, she was not sure what had become of him.

“You’ve been to Star Swirl’s cottage?” Starlight stammered.

“What’s left of it,” Orion replied, hesitantly, “The wizard. Where’s he gone?”

“I was hoping you’d tell me,” Starlight said. She had hoped to learn more from him. “It’s not him you should be worrying about. It’s Luna. She’s out here somewhere.”

“Luna? Princess Luna?” Fuchs replied, laughing off the suggestion, “Maybe it’s true what they say. You have gone mad.”

Starlight winced as she tried to sit up; her body was battered with bruises, and everything everywhere stung. Orion knelt before her and offered her his canteen.

“You fought her,” Orion presumed. Starlight was relieved there was at least one who would take her seriously, “And….you survived?”

She could see the fear take hold in him.

“If she’s not here, Star Swirl might have found her first,” Starlight posited, “And Discord…He’d have gone after the Orb. I have to get to it first.”

“Orb?” came Florence.

“Discord?” followed Fuchs.

“We have to take her to the Old Crow,” Orion said.

“Just leave her be, or she’ll kill us,” Florence said.

“She’s not a killer,” Fuchs said, dryly, and even Starlight was surprised to hear him come to her defense, “I knew that the day I saw you get dragged into that prison, and I know it now. You don’t need to try and scare us. Your enemies are ours now, too, y’know.”

Starlight’s eyes softened. She sighed, and sat back against the tree.

“The war’s begun?” Starlight figured.

“There’s fighting in the Highlands and the South. The dragons march on Canterlot. The hippogriffs and changelings fight for us now. Snowfall Glitter sits trapped near Haverford, while our forces close in around her,” Orion said.

“Snowfall Glitter?” Starlight repeated. She remembered the unicorn as one of Twilight’s enforcers, who had pursued her across the Crystal Empire shortly after her escape from Hellhatch.

“She’ll be dead soon,” Florence snarled, “Serves her right, the traitor.”

“She’s still one of us,” Orion reminded.

While the three rangers began arguing over what was to be done about Snowfall Glitter, Starlight’s thoughts turned to Discord, and Star Swirl, and Luna, and where they all might have gone. Luna must have thought she had killed Starlight, or else why would she have fled? Could Starlight have killed her, after all? Their battle was only a blur, now.

Star Swirl’s mind was twisted by the same prophetic delusions that had plagued Twilight and Celestia. Starlight did not care for the visions and portents and plans, she only cared about the ponies who suffered as a result. But now she knew of the means to truly challenge Twilight, the weapon by which she could rid the land of its tormentors, and restore peace and harmony. She needed the Orb.

But first, she needed her friends. Trixie. Sunset. Lightning. Suri. Wallflower. She needed their help. She had tried against Twilight alone, to her detriment, and again alongside Discord, who only ever served his own ends. It was friendship that had won Twilight all her victories, and so there remained at least one of Twilight’s lessons that Starlight could still believe in. I might be strong. But with my friends at my side, I’m stronger.

Finding out where they were was a considerable task, but luckily a name was already on her mind, of one who could possibly help.

“Snowfall Glitter,” Starlight said, “Where is she?”

“Snowfall?” Orion repeated, silencing the other two, who had still been bickering, “West of Haverford, we’ve been told. Farrier Field. If they are Haverford, they're bound to march north, through the Wolfswood."

Starlight beamed. The Wolfswood was only a day’s journey away, perhaps less if she hurried.

“What do you want with her?” Florence asked, suspiciously.

“Information,” Starlight replied.

“You won’t get to her easily,” Fuchs said, “She has a few thousand ponies at her back. Most of them won’t live to see the next full moon, not with Shining Armor’s army heading their way."

Starlight flinched. If she could find a way to sue for peace, there would be no need for a battle, no need for so much death. But she would have to reach Snowfall quickly. She would have to leave, now.

Starlight scrambled up to her hooves, sending the three rangers backing up, nervously.

“Thanks again for the food,” Starlight said, eyeing Fuchs, “It was good to see you, Fuchs.”

“Yeah, you too,” Fuchs said, begrudgingly, “We won’t tell our captain about this.”

“We won’t?” Florence asked, raising an eyebrow.

“If she thinks she can bring Snowfall to heel, then I say let her try,” Orion said.

Starlight smiled at him, before glancing over her shoulder. The sun was setting, and the sky had turned to a deep blue as the drizzle turned to snow.

“I hope we’ll meet again, someday,” Starlight said, eyeing Orion. The boy reddened, and Florence narrowed her eyes, irritated.

“Go on, Starlight Glimmer. Before we change our minds,” Florence said.

Orion opened his mouth to speak, but was too flustered to find the words.

Starlight smiled at him one last time, before nodding again toward the others and turning around to face the wind. Her horn ignited, as she cast a series of spells to repair the gravest of her injuries.

The snow stung at her eyes, as she dug hoof after hoof up the slope. She would have to move quickly if she was to find Snowfall, find her friends, and find the Orb, all before Discord or Twilight or Luna found it first.

Trapped in moonglass cages, candles glowed gold along the edges of the room, cluttered with yellowing parchment, vials of ink, and jars of spice. A great yellow snake dangled off one of the rafters, buckling in the air to inspect the newest arrivals to this curious abode.

Wallflower reached for her nose, struggling to make sense of the strange exotic scents that battled and bounced about the foyer.

The rotten little shack shook with each distant gunshot or scream or fit of laughter, there in Canterlot’s shanty town called Eden, where Bon Bon had brought them. The dwellings here were all packed together and on top of one another, a labyrinth of wavering wooden boards and rusty nails.

The shack itself, a tavern of sorts, was owned by a long-maned mare called Aurora Borealis, whose eyes were brilliant purple like amethysts, and whose coat was a softer purple. Her mane was a monster of black curls and untameable tendrils.

But it was not Aurora who Bon Bon had intended to meet, but rather another pony who she knew to frequent the establishment.

“Slick,” Bon Bon grinned, when she came face-to-face with the stallion with the dark mossy mane, after six knocks and a scratch on the door.

“Special Agent Sweetie Drops,” Slick said. He had a hesitant smile on his face, that was until his eyes passed over Sunset Shimmer, “...Y-You…You’re…”

“Here to talk,” Sunset said, “Can we come in?”

Slick glanced over his shoulder. There were a handful of patrons inside, two of which were also Erased agents, called Foxtrot and Scorn.

Sunset led the others inside, wrinkling her nose and adjusting her eyes to the dim firelight. Gilded Lily had been left in the carriage with Kickstart; Sunset was not concerned about the girl running off. That brat wouldn't be caught dead walking alone in this part of town.

Aurora’s shack proved to be an ideal location to meet, Sunset thought. The noise outside provided decent enough protection against any eavesdroppers, and the locale itself was as remote as one could find in Canterlot. They were safe here, she thought. As safe as they could get.

As of Slick and his companions, Sunset was less sure of.

“Just by talking to you, I could be disavowed,” Slick growled, as he led the group to a table in the far back, where he sat himself down, “Alias had a feeling you’d turn up eventually.”

“And yet he’s never bothered lending us any help,” Sunset said.

“He has enough reckless agents in his employ,” Slick retorted, “After that stunt you pulled in Ponyville, he wants nothing to do with you. Just what the hell do you think you’re doing showing up in this part of town? Don’t you have enough enemies already?”

Sunset had noticed Wallflower’s shortness of breath, and had slipped a hoof towards her to gently try and calm her down, without drawing attention to the scene. She was less worried about Lightning and Suri, who sat down to her left, cautiously following her lead and inspecting the safehouse.

“I came to you. Not Alias,” Bon Bon said, “We need a small favor.”

Slick raised an eyebrow.

“Access to the tunnels. No?” Slick said, “You’ll be needing a carriage, too. Unless you plan on hiking up the whole way to Aquila.”

Sunset narrowed her eyes.

“You know about the wedding?” Sunset asked.

“It’s our job to know,” Slick reminded, “We know about the offer Jet Set has made you, too. The case in exchange for your friend, your debts paid off, and freedom. That’s considerable. But you’re not fools. Criminals, yes, but not fools. So you must know that Jet Set is not a pony who keeps his promises.”

“And who said I’ll keep mine?” Sunset asked.

“They have Scootaloo,” Lightning reminded, “I don’t care about the money. Whatever we have to do to get her back, we’re doing it.”

“Even if you do succeed, he won’t give her back,” Slick said, waving her off, “Your friend’s as good as dead.”

Lightning frowned, and she refused to believe him.

“There’s more planned for this wedding than you know,” Slick said, softly, “Twilight Sparkle has tasked a portion of the 2nd Division to leave the front and infiltrate the wedding, to rescue Silver Stream before she’s married off to Prince Malthos. Our intel claims that the company will be led by Redshift. Your old friend.”

“Redshift?” Sunset recalled.

“And as Bon Bon can tell you,” Slick continued, “Jet Set has pitted the entire criminal underworld against itself, and the ceremony is serving as the battleground. The Black Hoof from Manehattan….The remnants of the Underground who now follow some giant silver-haired stallion and his friends, and Canterlot’s own Diamond Dazzle, the Debutante, a friend of our dear Bon Bon. All of them will be there, and all of them will try to destroy each other, until only one will be left to claim the case off of Prince Malthos and hand it over to Jet Set.”

Sunset glanced at Bon Bon, who nodded her head to confirm the validity of Slick's tale.

“But,” Slick said, “Alias isn’t particularly thrilled about gangsters and cutthroats potentially ending up with the most powerful artifact in all of Equestria, and Jet Set least of all.”

Sunset grinned, catching on before the others.

“Then I guess it’s in his interests if we’re the ones to walk away with it,” Sunset said.

Slick nodded, satisfied with Sunset’s conclusion.

“As I said, Chief knew you’d come seeking us out,” Slick said, “He’s allowed me to give you access to all the resources we have at our disposal. Access to the tunnels, agents, equipment, transportation, intel, it’s all yours."

“Even if we do get it, so what?” Suri asked, “The project is too powerful, volatile, that’s what Jet Set said. It can’t be controlled.”

“We have a plan for that,” Slick assured, “We're working on a way to develop the tool, a wand, to wield the weapon inside that case. With that, we’ll at last have the ultimate power in Equestria.”

“It seems we can help each other, then,” Sunset said, “We’ll get the case, and you’ll get the wand. Together we take Twilight Sparkle down.”

“Forget this. You’re the ponies who tortured our friend,” Lightning said, gesturing towards the carriage outside where Kickstart lay, unconscious, “Why should we trust you?”

Sunset glared at Slick.

“There were times when we took…drastic measures to defend Equestria. Some of these plans, we’ve come to regret. Your friend is one of them,” Slick acknowledged.

“He’s sick,” Sunset said, “You must know how to help him. So do it, and maybe we’ll consider this partnership you want so badly.”

Slick frowned.

“He’s becoming unstable,” Slick said, “His nervous system was infused with raw alicorn magic. With most of the test subjects, the magic strain proved too much for their bodies to bear, and they disintegrated, or rotted from within, or were driven completely mad. Subject 67 was the only survivor.”

“You’re all monsters,” Lightning said, “Sunset! We’re not working with these ponies. They’re insane!”

“We were desperate to level the playing field,” Slick said, “It’s no excuse, I know. But we had to make a hard choice - risk the lives of a few unfortunate foals with no friends or family in order to create a super soldier, or leave Equestria vulnerable to the wrath of the alicorns, should their hearts ever turn black. Twilight turned quicker than we were ready for. Only alicorn magic can contest her, we know that now. If any unicorn could have beaten her, it would’ve been Starlight.”

“Starlight was holding back,” Sunset said, or at least she believed so. If Starlight could not beat Twilight, then odds are neither could Sunset, and that was a thought she did not want to consider,

“...First things first, we have to get the damned thing, and that means beating out all these other lowlives who think they stand a chance,” Sunset said.

“Give me a few hours, I’ll get you what you need,” Slick said, “You can sleep here tonight, Aurora won’t mind as long as you eat her cooking and don’t complain.”

“This is a bad idea,” Moon Dancer said, glaring at the others.

“That should be our team motto,” Wallflower mumbled.

“Bon Bon, tell them, you know these ponies are dangerous. They’ll kill all of us as soon as they decide we’re a liability,” Moon Dancer said.

“Then let’s show them what we’re made of,” Sunset said, “He’s got a point about Jet Set. Even if we do get the case, you really think that bloodsucking crook is gonna play fair and just hand her over, no strings attached? We need some backup if we want to get the kid back in one piece, and these ponies are the ones to do that. Yeah. They’re no saints. Are any of you? These other ponies are gonna play dirty too, so what’s stopping us from doing the same?”

“The case is our only bargaining chip,” Suri reminded.

“We need it to get Scootaloo back,” Lightning added.

Moon Dancer frowned, unconvinced.

“You’ve all got a death wish,” Moon Dancer grunted.

“We don’t need you to be happy about it,” Sunset said, “But we do need your carriage.”

Trixie’s first glimpse of Appleloosa was the clocktower, that broken, lonely wreck, a grey beacon peering out from the clouds of dust.

Competing with the shriek of the engines and whistles and wheels of the Friendship Express, there were clamorous crowds gathered around the Appleloosa train station, a hundred or more, stumbling over one another, crying out and barking commands and holding their ground. The wood-panel station area was a sea of bodies, a trembling herd of ponies and buffalo. They wore uniforms of black and blue bruises and bloody sores, and pinkish-red burns and tattered clothes. Some cried out in relief at the sight of the train, and others in fear, and more in rage, for how long they had to wait for somepony, anypony, to arrive.

Loudspeakers were shouting out instructions, though none of it could be heard over the roaring of the crowds.

When the train finally came to a stop, Trixie heard the infants at the other end of the train car burst into tears. Already, she could smell the sulfuric stench of dragonfire.

There was a long wait before the doors opened, as soldiers in silver and green moved about outside, trying their best to manage the crowds. From inside the train car, Trixie could see little of the town through the thick clouds of smoke that permeated through the desert.

Rows of soldiers stood guard at the station, struggling to keep the crowds at bay.

Emerging through the doors, Trixie drowned in the smoke, stumbling past pony after pony as the crowd grew restless, battling one another for space. She held out her hoof for Starbuck to hold onto, and behind him came Amber, and Heartburn last.

“Let’s move, all of you, c’mon now,” came the voice of a soldier from somewhere in the smoke.

The sun set against a blood red sky, while the lingering fires stained the clouds of smoke red and orange and pink. The birds’ feathers were all colored black, circling the town to scavenge the ruins. There were buildings that still stood, though they had all been abandoned; ponies flocked instead to the city of tents that had been raised up beside the wreckage. The soldiers here did not fly the royal flag, however, but rather a field of solid green.

All those survivors who could manage to walk had all fled to the train station, desperate to find refuge somewhere else; the soldiers’ provisions here could not sustain them all, not indefinitely. Trixie wondered where they thought to go next. Canterlot would soon suffer a similar fate, as would Ponyville. Nowhere in the south was safe, nor north, nor west, nor east.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Heartburn grunted, when he emerged from the crowds behind Trixie. She shot a glance at Starbuck and Amber, who were both speechless. You have to be brave, she wanted to say.

While Trixie tried her best to avoid staring too long at the disfigured survivors and encampments full of wounded, Heartburn could not pull his gaze away. His eyes were red from the smoke, and there was a pressure in his chest that made him shrink up.

“We can’t draw attention to ourselves,” Trixie reminded, trying her best to stay focused on the task at hoof, “We have to find out any info we can on Cadance, and find a way out of here.”

Heartburn hesitated to reply. He glanced at her, wide-eyed and in pain.

“You go find what you can. I’ll be here.”

“There’s no time,” Trixie said, softly.

“I can help,” he insisted, “So I’m helping.”

“Doc, you can’t-” Starbuck attempted, before Heartburn began trotting off towards the tents, past rows and rows of bloody cots.

“Go with him,” Trixie told Starbuck, sighing, “We won’t be long. Stay out of trouble, OK?”

Starbuck could barely breathe, but nodded his head and ran off to join Heartburn.

“We shouldn’t be splitting up,” Amber said.

“We need to move, c’mon,” Trixie said, taking Amber by the hoof and leading her away. Amber seemed alarmed by the gesture, but followed along, glancing over her shoulder every other step.

The streets were flooded with lakes of blood, gasoline, and mud. Trixie steered them through the town outskirts towards the other end of the tent city, where more survivors had gathered.

Passing through the ruins of the town, Trixie saw Amber’s eyes wander by the broken-in windows and demolished remnants, scouring for anything shiny.

“We’re not here to scavenge,” Trixie said, eyeing Amber.

“It won’t be missed,” Amber said, “I’m going to go check out this way. I’ll find you.”

“Wait, Amber, come back,” Trixie called, but Amber had already begun trotting off down another path by the tents.

Trixie sighed. She would have to be quick, before somepony recognized her or any of the others.

She kept to the outskirts, slowly making her way deeper into the tent city to search for anypony who might know anything about Cadance.

Near the center of the camp, she saw a crowd was gathering. Shuffling through, she saw they had come to witness the final hours of the buffalo chief, a huge burly beast, once a proud warrior, now a living corpse. He had half his face scalded off by dragonflame, and his lungs were severely injured. He was surrounded by ponies and buffalo alike, and one, a young buffalo girl with a band around her head, was kneeling in a puddle of tears at his side.

Trixie felt her heart sink at the scene, and was so captivated she did not notice the pony approaching her from behind.

She glanced over her shoulder when he arrived beside her, leaning against one of the tent stakes. He was slightly older than her, with a coat of pale gold and a mane of brilliant gamboge and amber. He was handsome and lean, but the exhaustion was plain in his eyes.

“You came on the train?” the pony asked.

Trixie quickly thought of a crafty lie, but decided the truth could not hurt her, yet.

“Just an hour ago,” Trixie replied, before glancing back to the dying buffalo, “Who was he?”

“His name was Thunderhooves,” the pony said, “We never exactly got along, but….He saved a lot of ponies’ lives. He was brave, and his buffalo would have followed him to their deaths. His daughter there, Strongheart, she’s leading the herd now.”

“Her?” Trixie asked; the buffalo girl seemed hardly older than a child, “Is that a good idea?”

The pony laughed.

“That’s what the buffalo said when the ponies chose me to replace Silverstar,” the pony said, “A good idea? I suppose we’ll find out. I’m Braeburn.”

Only then did Trixie notice the sheriff’s star pinned on Braeburn’s jacket, and she suddenly felt her stomach twist into a knot.

“It’s a miracle any of you survived,” Trixie said, bluntly.

“The dragons didn’t care about holding this town,” Braeburn said, “All they care about is spilling blood. Burning and raiding and….damn them, damn all of them. The buffalo and us had to work together to hold them off. We’re lucky to have saved as many as we did. Red Rock had it even worse.”

“These soldiers,” Trixie said, “They couldn’t have made it here sooner?”

“The royals abandoned us,” Braeburn said, “Hawkbit, that little runt, stayed where it was safe and watched from a distance as our lands were put to the torch. The Greens came as soon as they could. They defeated one dragon army at High Water, and now mean to defeat a second at Dodge City.”

Trixie paused to consider that. We might have a mutual enemy.

“Can you trust them?” Trixie asked.

“They came when nopony else would,” Braeburn said, “I don’t care about the war. I just care about the ponies and buffalo here.”

The tent opened then to reveal another pony’s face, a snow-white stallion with a curly black mane and a rough, short beard, stained darker from all the ash. He wore silver armor fixed with moonglass, black boots, and a black coat. His eyes passed over Trixie on his way to greet Braeburn. He came to an abrupt stop then, his eyes locked onto Trixie, and at once she began planning some escape.

“Ah, Captain,” Braeburn said, “Captain Kit, I’d like to introduce you to….Luna’s sake, I never asked your name.”

Trixie opened her mouth to speak, but the captain interjected.

“Her name is Trixie,” Kit said. Trixie felt her heart stop. Braeburn’s smile dropped off his face. Kit’s grip on his scabbard tightened.

“And she’s coming with me.”

Bells, bells, the bells all rang, from each tower and stable and barricade.

Shining Armor gritted his teeth as he charged against Starhaven, a sea of Northerners and changelings crashing over Hackamore Hill behind him. Ophelia had meant to warn the townsponies to stay indoors, though the bells served just as well as a battle cry for the approaching imperial host, roaring and riding beneath gleaming mail.

Shining Armor led the van, clad in his purple and gold armor, a glimmering aura of pale rose lighting the charge. Blackburn, the General of the Spearheads, was at the prince’s side, and behind them came the reindeer led by Prince Ivan the Elder, and Prince Vitreum of Selva, and Prince Sweyn of Novador, and Prince Rutger of the Yaks. And to the right came Captain Star Shock with the Diamondbacks, and to the left, Captain Rusty Reaver of the Collaterals.

Styles and his ponies fought back fiercely in the streets, outnumbered and trapped in a bind. They fought in the alleys and rooftops, in living rooms and causeways.

And Bittersteel, Lord of Hellebore’s Fort, had joined the fight from the south, with his army of Highlanders. He had thought to have been felled by Styles, though the grizzled old stallion had only suffered a wound, his bleeding, cursing form guarded by six of his soldiers near a pile of hay.

Styles had, however, claimed the life of Prince Ivan the Younger, the heir to the Reindeer throne.

Broadwing had emerged from Peach’s right as the bells began ringing. He managed to slay six ponies, but did not find Styles on the field, despite his efforts.

Styles’ subordinates accepted the battle was lost long before he ever did; it took four royal soldiers to pull him back from the battle to retreat. So driven with battlelust was he, that he had nearly killed three of his own soldiers in rage, refusing to retreat so meekly.

Shining Armor did not pursue the fleeing force, deciding instead to remain in Starhaven and organize Broadwing’s scattered forces into his own host.

The princes found each other in the town square, where bodies lay strewn about, both royal and Imperial. The Northerners were celebrating in the streets, still to the tune of the ringing bells.

“We would be dead if not for you,” Broadwing said, embracing Shining like a lost dog come home. Shining was glad to see the young prince alive, albeit soiled in blood and dirt.

“We’d gotten bad reports. They said you’d been killed,” Shining.

“If you’d been a day later, they’d be right,” Broadwing replied, “Styles. Did we catch him?”

“He escaped,” Shining said, grimly, “He’s running back to Snowfall, who’s just beaten Honeycomb and taken Haverford, we’re told. It was Redshift who put the idea in her head.”

“That won’t matter. We have her outnumbered three times over,” Broadwing said.

“We have to be careful,” Shining said, “One wrong move and she could put Haverford to the torch.”

Broadwing hesitated.

“No, Snowfall wouldn’t do that. She-”

“After everything that’s happened, you should know better than to assume anypony is as they once seemed. My own sister should be proof enough for that,” Shining said.

Shining’s attention was seized by a crowd of rowdy Imperials, laughing and cheering down the street. They were dragging a pony behind them, fixed with a rope leash and iron fetters.

“Styles?” Broadwing asked, joining Shining as they approached the crowd.

“No. A War Boy, maybe,” Shining Armor said. The crowd made way for the princes, who trotted into the center where the prisoner had fallen to the ground.

“Not a War Boy. A War Girl,” laughed Flash Sentry, roughly lifting the prisoner up by her curly red-orange mane.

“Firecracker,” Shining Armor said, recognizing the mare. She wore the bronze armor that all of the War Boys wore, following the example of their commander.

“Your grace,” Firecracker said, politely, but with venom in her voice. She was covered in bruises and blood, and had been dragged across a mile of snow and dirt, a trophy to parade through the town. “Styles wants to wish your daughter a belated happy birthday. He hopes you’re doing well.”

Shining Armor cracked a grin. Styles had been something of a friend, all those years ago, and it was Shining Armor who appointed Styles to the Nine, shortly before Shining’s engagement to Cadance.

“I would be glad to hear it from him in person,” Shining Armor said, “Where has he gone?”

Firecracker spat at the ground in front of Shining’s hooves.

“I won’t betray my captain,” she said, forgoing her prior respectful demeanor, “Torture me all you want, I won’t talk.”

Shining glanced over at Vitreum, Prince of the Selvites, whose armor was drenched in blood, “We had another one, but he tried to resist. He drew a hidden knife, so the others put him down. This one’s the only officer left.”

Firecracker’s face turned pale.

“Put her in irons. We’ll take her with us.” Shining demanded; Firecracker was trembling, and trying her hardest to be brave.

“Traitor filth! You’ll get what’s coming to you, you’ll all g-ow!” Firecracker cried, when a soldier’s staff rammed into her skull. She fell into the forelegs of another soldier, who began wrapping a band of cloth around her mouth and locking her hooves in chains.

“Keep the other prisoners here with the garrison. Have Ophelia make sure they’re all fed and patched up, and kept under guard,” Shining commanded.

“Yes, sir,” came Flash, who left with the crowd of soldiers, eager to break open the kegs of victory wine and enjoy the night after battle.

Broadwing lingered, his left wing resting on his sword scabbard.

“Has there been any word on my brother? My mother?” he asked.

“I’ve had no word on your brother. I left Primrose with the reserves in Aquila. She’ll be representing me at Malthos’ wedding to the hippogriff girl.”

“Sir, I…My actions, if they’ve jeopardized the campaign in any way, I’m sorry,” Broadwing said, “I…If you think I'm unfit to continue in command, I’ll understand.”

Shining glanced at him, and stuck his hoof on the boy’s shoulder.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Shining said, “I don’t hold you responsible for what happened. Your actions won us Seaguard, and the Smoky Shore, and by extension Vanhoover, Tall Tale, and soon Haverford.”

“We’ve taken the Smoky Shore?” Broadwing asked, as hope returned to his heart.

Shining grinned.

“Snowfall has Haverford, but she’s cut off from her supply lines and is trapped on all sides now,” Shining Armor said, “Our next move is to march on Haverford, and confront her.”

Broadwing gulped down his fears.

“Styles will have reached her first,” Broadwing despaired, “Once they’re together, nopony will be able to beat them.”

“You and I together,” Shining smiled, grabbing Broadwing by the foreleg, “Together, we can.”

Raindrops slipped past ribbons of gold, where Aurora Borealis’ collection of candles buckled wildly in the nighttime tempest. Suri sat there by the window sill, pawing at her eyelids. She had watched as the rain sent all of Eden’s inhabitants dashing back indoors, washing away the clutter and rabble, and leaving only the soft cracks of distant thunder and the thin patter of rain on cobblestone.

Suri had volunteered to take the first watch; despite Slick’s assurances that this place was safe, Sunset did not want to take any chances. Suri didn’t mind. She never slept well, anyway.

The others were all in Aurora’s shanty lounge, even Gilded Lily, that snot-nosed little brat, who had insisted she not sleep alone in the carriage outside. Sprawled out over couches, old chairs, and, in Lightning Dust’s case, the floor, all of them hardly moved as they slept, exhausted.

At least, that was the case for a little while. Lightning must have been nightmares again; she was kicking and wincing and twitching as she often did, and so Suri got up to drape another blanket over her. Idiot, she thought, There’s enough to worry about while you’re awake.

Returning to her spot by the sill, Suri winced as some rain fell into her eyes.

“You’re still awake?”

Wallflower Blush had just arrived from the kitchen with a cup of water in her hoof.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” Suri grumbled.

“Sorry,” Wallflower said, “You should get some rest for tomorrow.”

“We’re not safe here,” Suri said, dryly, “And I need to make myself useful, so…”

“I thought you’d be glad to have a chance to catch your breath,” Wallflower said, taking a seat on the opposite side of the window sill, to Suri’s annoyance, “What’s got you down?”

“What’s it to you?” Suri snapped.

“If I can help at all, I want to,” Wallflower said, “I’m worried about you.”

“I don’t need you to worry about me,” Suri sighed.

Wallflower shut her mouth and glanced at the ground. Suri stared daggers at her, and sighed.

“I didn’t think I’d still be doing this,” Suri said, “Here, I mean. With all of you. This isn’t what I was supposed to be doing. This isn’t right.” Suri’s face began to twist. “Because I was never right. I came close once. Growing up in Manehattan, in the shadow of the buildings I wanted to work in, ponies keep their heads down so they don’t have to look up too high. But I couldn’t look away. Those ponies, I wanted to be like them. I learned how they talked, how they dressed, and I learned the trade in and out. I got my chance once, to run my own boutique, my own brand, at a Manehattan convention a few years back. Pret-a-Porter was the host. Rarity had the nerve to show her face then, even after she beat me to win Prim Hemline’s Fashion Week just a few months before. The night after the convention my agent comes to my dressing room and says this isn’t your night. ‘We’re going for the design by the Ponyville girl, Rarity.’ This isn’t your night! My night! I could’ve taken Rarity apart! So what happens? Rarity gets the title spotlight at Hoity Toity’s showcase in Canterlot, and what do I get? A one-way ticket to nobodyville. And I never had anypony looking out for me. Nopony in my corner, except for Coco, who turned against me the second she got a better offer. And sure, I still saw some bits, but…You don’t get it. I could’ve had class. I could’ve been a contender. I could’ve been somepony! Somepony, instead of this, instead of what I am. A rat on the run.”

“What do you want to hear?” Wallflower asked, softly, “You want me to tell you that everything’s going to go back to how it was? It won’t. You lost out then, but you lost out for good when you got yourself thrown in Hellhatch. We’ve all screwed up, Suri.”

“Except you’ve all given up,” Suri said, “Sunset and you and Lightning Dust, all happy living like gutter rats. Why should I be? A screwball stunt flier and an outcast gardener, what kind of chances did you ever have to begin with? I had a career. I had a life.”

Wallflower felt her chest tighten, and she glanced over towards the others in the nearby room. Suri shut her mouth,

“I didn’t mean that,” Suri said, “Wallflower. I know you had a life too. I just…Part of me wants to think that I had something special. That I still do. It had to be that way, where I grew up. I had to shoot big. I had to convince myself that me and only me could do it. If I’m not that pony, then…my entire life is just going to be a footnote in somepony’s else’s.”

“Maybe it was, once,” Wallflower said, “But you didn’t lose everything when you lost Manehattan. And I didn’t lose everything when I lost my village. Everypony dreams. At least you got close. Really close.”

“Close doesn’t count for shit,” Suri grunted.

“What do you care about now, Suri? What you could have done? What you could have been? What about what you can be?” Wallflower asked.

Suri rolled her eyes. “A fucking criminal?”

“A friend,” Wallflower corrected, “My friend. Their friend. We’ve been in a bad spot for a while, but we’re gonna get out, one day. And we need you to do that. Just…for Celestia’s sake, Suri, we care about you. I care about you. You give us a hard enough time already.” Wallflower snickered. “At least go easy on yourself.”

Suri watched Wallflower saunter back to the other room. Suri glanced back out at the rain outside, which had begun to pour harder, and harder.

Trixie took a bite of the peach, which was hovering in the air in an aura of magic. She glanced over at the captain, who was lean and dour with a long face. Solemn and guarded, he glared at Trixie as she ate. He had not given her leave to eat from his fruit bowl.

“You know who I am?” Trixie asked, between bites.

Kit nodded.

“I’m Kit Carina,” introduced the stallion, “You picked a very strange time to visit, Trixie Lulamoon.”

“I don’t plan on staying here long,” Trixie explained, “And I don’t want any trouble.”

“Good. We have enough,” Kit said, “But somehow I doubt a fugitive such as yourself wound up here of all places by chance.”

“You should be glad I’m here,” Trixie said, “I brought you a doctor, and some extra hooves to help rebuild…..Are you going to tell Twilight?”

Kit scoffed.

“I serve Vertigo. Not Twilight Sparkle,” Kit said, “I won’t turn you over, but I won’t help you, either. I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’d rather not get involved.”

“We’ll be out of your mane soon enough,” Trixie said, “Be careful. Ponies tend to get fond of me fast. I’d hate to have a tearful goodbye. ”

Kit gave way to a grin, before lowering his head, forcing himself to resume his no-nonsense attitude.

“See what you can do to help around here,” Kit said, “These ponies need it.”

Trixie nodded her head, and made for the exit of the tent, before stopping and glancing back over her shoulder.

“Mind showing me around?” Trixie asked.

It was practically dark out now, as Kit trotted alongside Trixie through the camp.

“Have you heard anything about Princess Cadance?” Trixie asked.

“Cadance?” Kit repeated, “Little and less. Some say her prison convoy ran into dragons, that she was killed. Some say she’s being taken to Mercy Hill, or the Ghostfort, or Rockbottom. You’re looking for her?”

“Looking to rescue her,” Trixie specified, “We’re planning on taking the Black Pass, to try and catch the convoy before we lose them in the Deep Wood.”

“The Black Pass?” Kit said, “You’d need a carriage to take that way.”

Trixie bit her lip, and Kit scoffed.

“Ah. Well. You can have one of ours, though I’d like you to return it once you’ve rescued her,” Kit said.

Trixie smiled. She would be glad to have some allies further down the road, when Twilight inevitably found her.

“I won’t forget this,” Trixie said, “Trixie always pays her debts.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’d be glad to see Cadance safe. It’s no hindrance to us, anyway, I expect we’ll be here for some time,” Kit sighed, “Until Vertigo plans to march on Canterlot, at least.”

“On the dragons? Or on Twilight?” Trixie asked.

Kit glanced at her.

“I could not say,” he said.

“Captain!”

Two ponies emerged from the tents, both teenagers. One, a girl with thick turquoise locks and a coat of mud brown, had a bandage around her wing, and the other, a boy with a red coat and azure mane, had a brace around one of his legs.

Trixie saw the captain smile for the first time, as the two kids ran up to him, talking over each other such that neither could be properly understood.

“It was Bloofy,” said the girl, called Spur, “It wasn’t us! Honest!”

“Yeah, what she said,” came the boy, called Biscuit. He had a whirling mungtooth resting on his back, fast asleep.

Kit glanced over their heads at the mess they had made inside the tent.

“That’s the last time I have you two on kitchen duty,” Kit sighed, smiling and shaking his head, “Go clean yourselves up and see if Stokes needs help with anything. And Bloofy is in big trouble.”

“No!” Spur and Biscuit shrieked in unison, throwing themselves over Bloofy protectively, before scurrying off, shrieking and laughing and tripping over themselves.

Kit’s smile began to fade, and Trixie realized she was staring up at him for perhaps too long.

A soldier arrived from out of one of the tent corridors, carrying a bottle of whiskey in her hooves.

“Braeburn had some extra left over,” Stokes smiled, “It’s yours, Captain.”

Kit examined the bottle, before glancing up at Trixie.

“Your doctor will need it more than me,” Kit said, handing it over to Trixie. He left her with a nod, before joining Stokes to go inspect some of the troops nearby, idling around a campfire.

Outside the medical tents, Trixie found Amber and Starbuck. Starbuck was eating a bushel of apples, while Amber was scraping the gemstones out of pieces of jewelry she had found all around the ruins of the town.

“You’ve been stealing?” Trixie stammered.

“I couldn’t help it,” Amber shrugged, “We’re going to rescue a princess, right? We deserve some additional compensation.”

Trixie shook her head in disbelief.

“Go with Starbuck and look for ponies who need any help, and bring them to Doc,” Trixie instructed, “And no more stealing.”

Amber was very confused, but nodded along, taking off from the tent. Starbuck lingered.

“She didn’t mean any harm,” he insisted, though he hardly believed himself. He turned red for some reason, and quickly ran off to catch up to Amber.

Trixie found Heartburn inside, lying on the ground by the makeshift operating table. His white physician’s coat was stained with dirt and blood that had turned brown. His hooves were painted red, and he was gaunt, as if he had not eaten all day.

Trixie trotted over, but did not catch his gaze, only a vacant expression, and his tired breathing.

“Hey,” Trixie said, softly.

Heartburn moved his whole head to take a look at her, before sniffing at the blood in the air and wiping his face.

“What'd you find?” he asked.

“Not much in the way of leads,” Trixie answered, “....Are you alright?”

“I haven’t done surgery like that in some ten years,” Heartburn remarked, with an empty laugh to punctuate himself, “I’m not so steady anymore.”

“You just need a rest,” Trixie said, helping him up to his hooves, “Might I tempt you with a break?" She smirked and revealed the bottle of whiskey. Heartburn gave a hearty laugh, leaning his head back against the cot.

Heartburn took a great swig of the drink, before setting it aside.

"I shouldn't have tried to stop you," Trixie admitted, "These ponies needed you."

"We're in a hurry yes, but theirs was a tad more urgent, I'm afraid," Heartburn said. “When I was young and my hooves were more steady, I spent several years abroad, in the West and the East, with the International Volunteers. Vanhoover was a bit too dull for my liking, mind you. Most of us live and die in the same corner of the world we were born into. But I did not want to be most of us. I had learned so much in so many places, when I returned I was sought after, by the Erased and all sorts of ponies. Princess Celestia hired me to teach at the School for Gifted Unicorns, as an adjunct lecturer on somatomancy, that was where I met our mutual friend, Sunset Shimmer. I was one of three non-unicorns to ever teach at such a place. And likely the last - I was disgraced and thrown out after Celestia caught me practicing black magic."

"Black magic?" Trixie repeated, horrified.

"A colt was brought to me," Heartburn said, "A young boy, eight or nine. His parents told me no other doctor would treat him, that the disease he carried was incurable. It was a rare strain of black rot, a slow-acting, necrotic kind of magical decay. They had been told that he would die, or worse, the rot would go slow and he'd grow just enough to know the world before taking it away from him.

"Every herb, incantation, antibody, nothing did much at all. I sat with him and spoke with him and watched him while he slept. I listened to his ragged little breaths, I watched him twitch and jump awake in his sleep. I had seen cruelty before, but nothing like this. So yes, I resorted to unnatural methods. The gods had abandoned this boy, so I spat on the gods and looked to the devil instead."

"And did he live?" Trixie asked, "Did it work?"

"No," Heartburn said, "The boy died just a day later." The torch nearby began crackling a bit louder. "I destroyed myself, and all for nothing. I saved a thousand ponies' lives, but the only one I remember is the one I couldn't." He glanced at Trixie, his eyes red and strained. "I do hope we find your princess. She might go on to save a great many, and perhaps I'll see their faces in my dreams, instead."

“You will,” Trixie said, softly.

Starbuck and Amber arrived outside the tent, carrying a pony on a stretcher between them.

“Moron. You’re going to drop him,” Amber chastised.

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it, I’ve-” Starbuck said, before nearly slipping and dropping the stretcher on the ground. Amber corrected his mistake with a spell, guiding the stretcher to the ground in front of Heartburn. She next lifted up a tent stake from the ground, telekinetically swinging it over to whack Starbuck over the head.

“Ow!” Starbuck exclaimed, “That hurt!”
Starbuck leapt to retaliate, though Trixie stepped between them.

“Where’d you find this one?” Trixie asked, glancing down at the pony on the stretcher. He wore grey rags discolored by ash, and his face was hidden.

“He’s been waiting all day for somepony to check out his foreleg,” Amber said, “Got crushed under some rubble.”

“Doc, you got one more miracle in you?.” Starbuck asked.

Heartburn knelt beside the pony, who was shifting in and out of consciousness, delirious from the pain in his foreleg. Stokes and another soldier, Aria, had stopped by, dropping off a crate of supplies Heartburn had requested.

“That doesn’t look good,” Stokes said, glancing at the pony on the stretcher.

“Multiple fractures,” Heartburn determined, “It won’t be pretty….I…mean, ah, hello there.” The pony had stirred awake with a jerk, reeling from the pain. The pony groaned in agony, as his whole body tensed up. Heartburn put his hoof on the pony’s foreleg, hoping to put him at ease.

“What’s your name, lad?” Heartburn asked, gently.

The pony, who was still somewhat dazed from the pain, answered without thinking.

“Chisel,” he said. He blinked in rapid succession, before trying his best to rouse himself. “You’re a doctor?” he asked, laughing in spite of the pain, as a wave of relief overcame him.

“That’s right, lad. Your leg’s going to be all better,” Heartburn said, “I’m going to need the table for this. First let’s get these rags off.”

Heartburn’s hoof reached for the pony’s tunic, but as he pulled the rags away, he noticed a black mark inked into the pony’s left shoulder.

“Hey,” Starbuck said, perking up from beside the tent as he noticed the mark too.

“What?” came Trixie.

“It’s an ‘R,’” Starbuck said, “‘R’ for ‘Red.’ The Red Regiment. Royal army. He’s a soldier, this one.”

“Nonsense. Why would a soldier be hiding in rags?” Heartburn said, doubtfully.

“He’s not with us,” Stokes said, suspiciously. “Hey, pal. What unit are you in?”

Chisel was short of breath, weak and half-awake as the pain in his leg made him wince and tremble and tear up.

“The Appleloosa garrison,” Chisel managed, “I survived the battle, but I was driven out into the Calliope Desert.”

“That’s a lie,” came Aria, “The dragons all went north, not west into the Calliope. And if you were with the Appleloosans, then Braeburn would know who you are. Should we go find him?”

Chisel turned pale.

“You fled the Everfree front,” Trixie guessed, “You deserted your post before the dragons reached the line, and you came here.”

Chisel tried his hardest to think of an alibi, but could only nod his head, too overwhelmed by the pain to keep his story straight.

“Cadance’s prison caravan would have had to pass the front,” Starbuck pointed out, “Princess Cadance. Did you see her?”

Chisel flinched at the mention of Cadance, and Trixie took an aggressive step forwards.

“You did. You saw her, didn’t you? Where?”

“No, I-I never saw her! Only rumor, only-“

Trixie’s horn invited, and the whole group took a step back except for her and Chisel, the latter of whom was paralyzed with fear

“Where was she?”

“Wisteria!” Chisel exclaimed, “But she’s not there anymore! He took her!”

“Who?”

“My captain!” Chisel stammered, “He fled Wisteria before the dragons took the castle. We had to fl-fl-flee, the dr-dragons were….They would’ve….Ah! He used Cadance as his reason to leave, to personally escort her to the Ghostfort. I fled too, but snuck around the dragons to come here. I figured the dragons wouldn’t hit the same place twice! Don’t kill me!

“Wisteria?” roared one of the soldiers from a nearby camp. It was Blackout who had spoken and risen to his hooves, and he was soon joined by Mellow Mirth. Shell Shock and Selene, and Meadows and Clair de Lune.

“You said your captain was at Wisteria?” Blackout barked.

Chisel was drenched in sweat.

“N-No! N-Not me, I-I only heard, I meant, I heard from-” Chisel attempted.

“The Traveling Circus held Wisteria,” Blackout said, “Are they your friends? The Surgeon. You serve the Surgeon?”

Aria and Stokes both recoiled at the calling of the Surgeon’s name. Stokes had her knife drawn in a flash of steel.

“Hawkbit’s mad dog?” Selene demanded.

“He was there at the burning mill some months ago,” said Clair, “You know what he did to them, the mares, and the foals. Little foals!”

“NO!” Chisel wailed, sobbing, “Not me, I never! I swear it! It’s him you want! I’ll take you to him! I’ll take you to him!”

“What road did he take?” Trixie demanded, “Is the Black Pass clear?”

“He took the Red Gap! He’ll be at the fort in three days!” Chisel squealed, “Don’t take the Black Pass, that’s where the deserters all went. Now tell them to stop! You need me! Yes! You need me! I’ll show you the way! But stop them! Make them!”

Kit Carina had arrived to investigate all the commotion, and when Stokes had whispered in his ear, Trixie could make out the words Surgeon, mill, and foals. Little foals.

She saw Kit’s face darken, and she knew then that she could do nothing more to help Chisel, who was weeping in a puddle of his own making.

“I think we can find our own way,” Trixie said.

“NO!” Chisel cried, but by then the mares were already carrying Chisel away, knives in their mouths and hooves and wings. And the Surgeon’s stallion screamed all the way back to the tent they took him to, and Trixie had to turn away, not wanting to match an image to the shrieking.

Trixie grabbed Heartburn and pulled him aside.

“The Red Gap,” Trixie repeated, “That’s where they’re taking her. They’ve got a headstart on us, so we’ll have to double-time it.”

“There's a shortcut I know,” Amber offered, joining the group, “Through the Macintosh Hills.”

“We’d better go now. We’ll make up time if we travel by night,” Trixie said, before glancing at Heartburn, who was dragging his hooves in the dirt.

“If they reach the fort before we catch them, Cadance is lost. And if this Surgeon guy is with her, she's in more danger than we thought,” Trixie said, “You did all you could here, Doc. Cadance needs us.”

Heartburn forced himself to move forward, while Trixie took one last look at the camp, before leading the others to where the carriages were kept.

But up above the ridge, Trixie did not see the pair of glowing eyes watching her. Callidus slipped away into the shadows, slithering down the ridge, his hoof pawing at the knives fixed to his belt.

Across candlelight, Rainbow twirled her hoof in her mane, her eyes darting around the room, searching for which of these ponies might be the one they had come here for.

She scanned the room, perusing the host of aristocrats in feathered headdresses and golden jewelry that had crept out from the safety of their hightower abodes, some for the first time since before the riots began. Collectively, these ponies held most of the wealth in Canterlot, perhaps all of Equestria as a whole. And hidden among them were three ponies, dressed as best as they could manage on such short notice.

Rainbow Dash wore the rose-pink dress that she had worn to the Andromeda, and had fixed her mane into a curlier, tight-tousled do that kept everything above her shoulders. Blondie sat across from her, clad in his black tuxedo. His stubble had grown back, but it was nothing compared to Salt Shaker’s bristly beast of a beard. The silver-maned giant seemed uncomfortable at the dinner table; he was slightly too large to sit properly on his chair.

They had been led here by the One-Eyed Pony, who had slipped away into the crowds, leaving them at one of the dinner tables in the ballroom of the Red Roan Hotel. The ballroom chamber was packed with ponies, all dressed in their best black suits or billowing gowns. She wondered what they all thought they were celebrating. One last drink before the war, she considered. But these ponies would not be the ones who would suffer, when the dragons reached the city. They would hide themselves away in their bunkers and wait out the storm, while everypony else would be left lambs to the slaughter.

"You're worried about her," Blondie said. Rainbow snapped out of her thoughts, to find Blondie leaning in towards her, while Salt was busy chatting up the waiter.

Rainbow took a quick sip from her glass.

"Of course I am," Rainbow said, "I'm worried about you, too, y'know." She wondered how close the knife had been to Brandy's throat, before she had called out to Blondie to stop. She wanted to believe he wouldn't have done it. But she could not know.

"I know," Blondie said. The memory frightened him, but Blondie made himself hold it, turn it in his head, stare at it hard. I tried to kill her, make no mistake. I would have stuck her with my knife if Rainbow hadn't stopped me.

He wanted to think of a better place, a snug little cottage by the maple lake. The walls were lopsided and cracked and the floor had been made of packed earth, but he had always been warm there, even when they let the fire go out. He wanted to think of Candle Light there beside him, with her eyes as blue as the lake.

They would kiss for hours, and spend whole days doing no more than lolling in bed, listening to the wind on the water, and holding each other. Her body was a wonder to him, and she seemed to find delight in his. Sometimes she would sing to him. "I love you," she would whisper before they went to sleep at night. "I love your lips. I love your voice, and the words you say to me, and how you treat me gentle. I love your face."

"My face?"

"Yes. Yes. I love your hooves, and how you touch me. And I love your name."

"Nopony calls me by my name," Blondie would say.

"But I like your name. I love to say your name. Dying Light. It goes with mine. Not the Dying part. the other part. Light and Light."

Lies, Blondie thought, all feigned, all for gold. She was a prostitute, his brother's prostitute, his brother's gift. He had been trying to kill Brandy, though it was Candle Light's face that he saw in her place. Her face seemed to fade away, dissolving behind a veil of tears, but even after she was gone he could still hear the faint, far-off sound of her voice, calling his name. "...Blondie, can you hear me? Blondie? Blondie?"

It was Salt speaking to him, he realized. Rainbow had gotten up to powder her nose.

Salt raised his glass, and Blondie followed suit.

"We don't belong here," Salt said, grimly, "We were born in the mud. When we talk, they all can see the mud on our tongues, and they know us for what we are."

"But we won't die in the mud," Blondie said.

Salt's smile began to waver.

"You won't," Salt corrected, "Your heart is stronger than mine, Blondie. You were made to live. I was made to die."

"Then why bother?" Blondie asked, "You can escape all this, anytime. You're not beholden to anypony."

"I am, to you," Salt said, "You told me once you had a debt to pay. I want to see that through, but perhaps not in blood. Brandy, an infernal creature she may be, is what you lost once before. I would see the two of you free of all this."

"Blood is your trade, you said once," Blondie said, "Why the change of heart?"

"Because you've come all this way," Salt said, "Once it only seemed foolish, but now it seems a crime not to do what I can to help you, Blondie, my friend."

"Are we friends, Salt?" Blondie asked, skeptically.

Salt smiled, and opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, Rainbow Dash sat down at her seat. She had not come alone.

The One-Eyed Pony gave a vacant smile, eyeing the three of them. His eyes lingered on Blondie, the longest.

"We thank you for your patience," he said, with a subtle bow of his head.

He stepped out of the way to reveal a pair of ponies, a stallion and a mare, posed with their eyes cast down and their heads held high.

Jet Set sat down at the table, along with Upper Crust. Jet Set wore a coat of faint grey and a mane of black. A pair of bifocals rested on his snout, and he wore a suit with a red tie. Upper Crust was a golden mare with a bouncy lavender mane, wrapped in a deep purple dress.

“You must be Salt Shaker, I presume," Jet Set said, marveling at the sight of the giant, "Good Celestia, they weren’t kidding. You truly are a monster. And you must be the sidekick with the mouth I’ve been warned about,” Jet Set smiled, glancing down at Blondie, “I don’t hold any grudges, about that business with Trench. His childish rivalry with Crozer’s gang of thugs was his own undoing…..And Rainbow Dash, what an unexpected pleasure! Equestria’s been wondering what’s become of its prismatic Wonderbolt star. And now we know.”

“You wanted to talk,” Salt said, “So talk. But remember that we’re not as partial to your persuasions as our friends in the Black Hoof.”

“Yes, I know this. You’ve already demonstrated a keener sense of strategy than all the other gutter rats in my employ, I’ll grant you that. How do you know Malthos will keep his word about handing over the case?” Jet Set asked.

“Dash put the fear of Celestia in him,” Blondie said, glancing at Rainbow.

Jet Set grinned, delighted.

“Very good. Very good. Well, for all intents and purposes, I’ll assume that you’ll be the ones walking out of that wedding with the case in hoof. Now the only question is … how much can I pay you for it?”

Rainbow adjusted herself in her seat, uneasily.

“The Black Hoof have targets on my friends’ backs,” Rainbow said, “They've been holding off for now to wait and see if they can make us a deal. If we give them nothing, my friends are dead.”

“The late Crozer's unaccomplished acolytes are who run the Black Hoof now. I’ll soothe their appetites,” Jet Set said, waving her off, “In fact, if we go into business, I’ll go so far as to take over their entire operation. You already killed Crozer, stole half his ponies and a good chunk of the Underground. If I were to root out Hellcat and the remaining Black Hoof remnant, you could take their spoils and become the most powerful pony in Manehattan.”

Salt Shaker raised his eyebrow.

“Wait,” Rainbow interjected, trying to catch Salt’s attention, “What exactly do you plan on using the case for?”

Jet Set’s smile wavered.

“Rebuilding Equestria,” he said, gently, “I have the industry, resources, and connections to lead Equestria into the next era, once the dragons and royals and imperials are finished blasting each other to bits. With the case, I’d have the power to replant, reconstruct, revitalize,”

Rainbow glanced at Blondie, who had narrowed his eyes, skeptically.

“If serving the greater good doesn't tempt you, then perhaps a check for 4 million bits will,” Jet said, “...I’m offering you a chance to be a part of the new world order.”

“Your world order, you mean,” Blondie said, “No deal.”

“Yeah, sorry, but I’m not sure I want to leave Equestria's fate up to you,” Rainbow said.

Jet Set's eyes glided over them both and landed on Salt, who leaned in from the edge of the table.

“Ignore them both, they share a brain,” Salt said, quickly. Blondie and Rainbow stared at him, stunned. “I want you to join us at the wedding, personally. I’ll hand the case over to you and you alone as soon as I get it from Malthos. I will do this, and you will hand over 5 million bits, and not a penny less, and you'll follow through in helping oust the Black Hoof. So that our dear Rainbow and her friends won't have to sleep with one eye open for the rest of their lives."

"It's not so bad," the One-Eyed pony chuckled.

Jet Set grinned.

“They didn't tell me you were a negotiator,” Jet Set smiled, “Alright. 5 million.”

He rose from his seat, along with Upper Crust, who had been glaring at Rainbow and batting her eyelashes at Blondie.

“I hope to see you at the finish line,” Jet Set smiled, “There is the matter of all the other thieves and cutthroats I’ve sent to complete the task of obtaining the case. But I’m sure they won’t be much trouble for you.”

“I’ll have all of my friends in Manehattan joining us there,” Salt assured, “The case is as good as yours.”

Jet grinned.

"Well. My fantastic mammoth of a friend," Jet Set smiled, “It’s a pleasure doing business."

He nodded his head and trotted off with Upper Crust and the One-Eyed Pony, who was glaring at Blondie with his lonely eye.

Rainbow and Blondie were both glaring at Salt, waiting for a few moment for Jet Set, Upper Crust, and the One-Eyed Pony to slip away into the crowd.

“What a deal, what a day!” Salt boomed, gasping in relief.

“Have you lost your mind?” Blondie demanded.

“I don’t believe a single word that came out of his mouth!” Rainbow stammered, “How could you agree to that? He’s going to betray us!”

“He’s trying to play us for fools, Salt. All he cares about is the case. Once he has it, he’ll kill us all. Us, the Black Hoof, and the Thieves,” Blondie argued.

“I’m well-aware,” Salt said, "But he's not the only pony capable of subterfuge. He thinks he can rule the underworld, but all that he's accomplished so far is only because we're all divided, and rivalrous, and stubborn. This way of thinking will get us all killed and leave him with all the spoils, as you said, Blondie. There is a way to tip the scales back in our favor. But we are running out of time. We'll have to prepare on the way there.”

Blondie and Rainbow glanced at each other.

Salt checked his watch.

“We need to get out of the city, fast,” Salt said, “My friends, we have a wedding to crash.”

Author's Note

Did not mean for this one to turn out so long! Hopefully I can manage the final three chapters without going so high on the wordcount. I feel like the Goldilocks zone for this type of story is like 13k - 15k, but I have trouble sticking to that.

Next chapter is the wedding, very excited to write! Possible that after I finish the next chapter, I may move sections of this chapter over to that one, just a heads up. All depends on how long the next one turns out. I'm set on keeping it to three more chapters to this story, shooting to finish it all before the end of 2024.

Let me know what your thoughts are on this one, any and all feedback is welcomed! Thanks for reading!

10: The Princess Bride Pt. 1

She could not quite tell if the bells were still ringing, or if the sound was just stuck in her head.

A changeling servant had filled the tub with steaming hot water and scrubbed her head to claw, until her skin glowed pink. After trimming her claws and hooves, they brushed and curled her cornflower mane into soft ringlets, all before they brought her a dozen perfumes to peruse through. She chose a sharp, sweet fragrance with a hint of lemon, one that had belonged to the former changeling queen, Chrysalis, and had remained in fashion.

The changeling princess, Elytra, had come to supervise the scene, as an array of buzzing seamstresses and servants flocked about, comparing fabrics and taking measurements. Elytra was a quiet and sullen girl, who, just like her father, never seemed at ease.

With industrious haste, the changelings required only a few hours to prepare the gown, which was ivory silk, lace, and lined with silvery satin. The points of the long dagged sleeves almost touched the ground when her forelegs were lowered, the skirts were long and full, and the waist was so tight that Silver had to hold her breath as they laced her into it. They brought her new shoes as well, slippers of soft grey that hugged her hooves and claws. “You look very beautiful, princess,” the seamstress said when she finished.

“I do, don’t I?” Silver said, wanting to giggle for a moment at the sheer absurdity of her situation. She had dreamt of this day her entire life. She had pictured Sandbar waiting at the altar, or Gallus sometimes, or Hydrangea, but never Malthos. This was some cruel twist on what was supposed to be her perfect day. Elytra studied her critically. “A few gems, I think. The moonstones Malthos gave her.”

“At once,” replied the maid.

When the moonstones were hung from Silver’s ears and around her neck, the princess nodded. “It seems almost obscene to squander such a sweet girl on the gargoyle I call a brother..."

Silver’s claw went to her throat. She would have torn the dress off of her if she had dared.

“You’re prettier with your mouth closed, Silver,” Elytra told her, “I understand how you feel. I would rip my mane out, if I were in your place. Malthos is a loathsome little imp, no doubt of it, but marry him you shall.”

“You can’t make me do this,” Silver managed.

“We can and we must,” Elytra said, “My marriage has been arranged too, you know, to a pony I've never even met. You can come along quietly and say your vows as befits a princess, or you can struggle and scream and make a spectacle, but you will end up wedded all the same.”

Silver recalled what Rainbow had told her. You must be brave. She took a deep breath. I can be brave. All of the changelings in the room were looking at her, the way they had looked at her the day she had first been dragged through the town hall doors.

“Get out,” Silver commanded, finding some courage somewhere inside of her, “All of you. Get out.”

The maids all hesitated, waiting for Elytra’s reaction. But Elytra seemed to pity Silver, and she turned to leave. The maids all followed, and Silver could enjoy her first moment alone in days.

She glanced out through the sash bars of her window. The bars of her cage, rather. Outside was Aquila, a cozy winter town, under the joint occupation of the changeling kingdom and the Crystal Empire. A portion of the Northern army was camped out near the town, led by a Crystal Pony called Onyx and Primrose, the mother of the Frost Prince.

Lavender, the Lady of Silkwood, had been in town for a while, but had never paid Silver a visit, and did not care to stick around for the wedding. Lavender had traveled up north to the Crystal City to serve as Shining Armor’s regent and Lady Protector of the Empire. Silver made sure to know all these things, with the hopes of scouting out potential allies.

But as far as she could tell, she was entirely on her own. The only creatures she knew she could trust was her family, and even then, she sometimes had her doubts. Her mother was a prisoner now in Canterlot, as punishment for the hippogriffs' change in allegiance. Serves her right for what she did. This was all her fault. She wanted to sell me off, and she got her wish.

Her father, meanwhile, was fighting in the North Lunar Sea for the Empire, and her brother on the opposing side, fighting for Twilight Sparkle in the North. She pictured Terramar's face, and her blood began to boil. Idiot, she thought, He should never have left home. He should never have gotten involved. Terramar was not a soldier. And I’m not a princess. She had always been stubborn about the title. It was her cousin Skystar who had been raised like a lady, to curtsy and giggle and dance in the coral ballrooms of Seaquestria. It should be her here instead of me, She quickly regretted thinking such a thing.

Why am I such a coward?

Then came the very last creature Silver wanted to lay eyes on.

Malthos’ exoskeleton was a dull turquoise, and his eyes glowed deep purple. His wings were the only bright thing about him, vivid amaranth. The two had not spoken since departing Canterlot; Malthos seemed to be weary of her hateful gaze, and had given up his fruitless attempts at conversation. Until now, apparently.

Silver might have been about to stand up and go shut the door in his face, until she realized he had not come alone.

“...Silver?” the companion said, meekly stepping out from behind Malthos, who lingered by the door as Silver sprang up to her claws.

“Ocellus!” Silver cried, practically bursting into tears at the sight, lunging off the bed.

They met in the middle, embracing, while Malthos twitched by the door.

“Silver! Th-they didn’t hurt you, did they?” Ocellus asked.

“No,” Silver said, wiping her eyes, squeezing the air out of Ocellus’ lungs.

“Silver, I’m sorry….I tried, I really did….But they found me out,” Ocellus said.

Silver held her in her grasp, and glanced down at her.

“You’re the bestest friend I could’ve ever asked for. What you did for me, I….I couldn’t leave you on your own. This is what I wanted, to be back with you. We’ve got each other again, so we’re gonna be OK, I know it. OK?” Silver said.

Ocellus sniffled and glanced over her shoulder at Malthos, whose eyes were fixed to the ground. Silver frowned.

“Why?” Silver asked.

“Why what?” Malthos asked, under his breath.

“You brought her here, what for?” Silver demanded.

Malthos glared at her.

“I never wanted you to be miserable,” Malthos said, “She’s your friend. She makes you happy.”

Silver felt a pressure building in her chest.

“...You know this is all wrong,” Silver said, “Malthos. Listen to me. You can end this. You can make this right.”

Malthos’ face became twisted.

“My father-”

“Forget about your father,” Silver said, “You have more power than you think, so stand up for yourself and put a stop to this. And if you really care about me, if you really want to be my friend, then stand up for me.”

Malthos glowered, his beady eyes tracing the edges of the room.

Without a word, he grumbled something under his breath and skulked off, leaving the two together as the bells began ringing again.

Yona arrived in the workshop to the sound of bickering, courtesy of the engineer, Gibbs, and Quasar, the apprentice. Beside them on the stone slab lay Princess Luna, who was dizzily muttering to herself. Battered in black ashy bruises and blazing abrasions, the princess of the night was hardly recognizable.

Luna had been restless, since the very first day they arrived here. She would speak in different voices, sometimes soft like a child, sometimes loud like a furious god. She would laugh one moment, and cry the next. ”Starlight. She’s dead. I killed her. Why did I kill her?” Luna would mutter to herself, between gasps for breath. Star Swirl’s healing ointments were uniquely effective, but not at all pleasant for the victim. But the princess was no stranger to pain. The damage to her body could be healed. The damage to her mind, Yona was not so sure of.

Though Luna spent hours a day reliving her confrontation with Starlight, and her foe’s supposed demise, Yona was more skeptical of the battle’s true result. Gibbs, Quasar, or Yona herself all had not been able to locate Starlight’s body, before Star Swirl recalled them all back to the flaming ruins of his mountain cottage. We cannot stay here, the wizard had said, or else their plans would surely be discovered.

Yona had not been glad about the move. She much preferred the cold of the North, to the autumn heat of the northwest coast. Star Swirl's hall of learning in Seaward Shoals was a dusty, cluttered mess, just as much as his now-destroyed residence in the Crystal Mountains.

Staying out of Star Swirl’s way was in her best interest; the wizard was perpetually irritable these days, even by his standards. She could not blame him, entirely. He had spent over a year toiling over the Witch’s Wand, only for it to be stolen right under his nose. “My prized work,” he growled often, “Taken by that devil-spawn draconequus and that scheming earth pony ... They know not what power they toy with.”

Yona had not been able to do much to stop Discord from making off with the wand, while the others were all busy with Luna and Starlight’s confrontation. She had tried to stop them, she had insisted, but Star Swirl did not find that to be sufficient. Now, her attention was focused solely on keeping an eye on Luna, whose wounds were healing, slowly.

“Thank you,” Luna said, when Yona had finished replacing her bandages. Star Swirl entered not long after, stroking his beard and grumbling under his breath.

“I know this place,” Luna said, peering out the window at the city and the bay beyond. She listened to the distant sounds of waves crashing against sandstone, and the seabirds’ endless chatter. “Here was where I last saw her. My sister. And all this time I’ve spent waiting for her to come back, she had been lying dead in the ground in that frozen hell."

“We all end up in the ground, princess” Star Swirl said, grimly, “Does it really matter which ground?”

Luna glared at him, while the wizard was busy organizing the scattered vials and parchments cluttering the room.

“I should not have lost control like that….I…” Luna said, and her eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment, “There was a better way to deal with Starlight Glimmer. What I did was wrong.”

“Starlight Glimmer possesses a unique talent for provocation,” Star Swirl said, sipping from his tea, “Twilight Sparkle knows very well how you feel.”

“Twilight,” Luna muttered, hesitantly, “You expect me to join her.”

“You said as much before,” Star Swirl said.

Luna choked on her own breath. She sat up on the bed.

“I….I cannot. I’m not fit to take part in Twilight’s war. Not if I cannot control myself. Whatever’s been done to me, has made me feel a way I haven’t in a long….a long time,” Luna said, “A time where fury eclipsed the light in my heart, and even my own name was lost to me.”

Nightmare Moon, Yona thought to herself. Had Twilight Sparkle fallen down a similar path?

Star Swirl grunted, recognizing Luna’s apprehension.

“I can offer you another choice,” Star Swirl said, glancing from Luna to Quasar, and back to Luna, “One in which you needn’t ally yourself with Twilight, but you still have a chance to avenge your sister, and defend Equestria.”

Luna raised an eyebrow.

“Speak it, then,” Luna commanded.

“It was not madness alone fanning the flames that engulfed this land. It was fear. Fear, most of all. Your sister’s fear, was the very first spark - fear of an ancient foe left in exile to gather its strength and have its vengeance. You know of whom I speak,” Star Swirl said.

Yona glanced at Luna, whose eyes had gone wide.

“Powers of the unseen world are to be unleashed, and prophecies fulfilled. The redeemer and the destroyer will confront each other, and the victor will have in their grasp the ultimate power. Control of the three shards, of dark, of light, and of the balance between them. Those ancient seeds, those brilliant jewels. He who wields them will reign, forever.”

When the wizard had finished, Yona felt a strange feeling then, as if the air had gone colder and she had entered into another room.

“It's my belief that Twilight Sparkle is the chosen one, the redeemer of this land,” Star Swirl said, “And the exile, who shares your blood, is the one who will bring the doom.”

“I know the prophecy,” Luna snapped, “Celestia would never let me forget it. It was her obsession, once. But you are mistaken, wizard. It is not one who brings the doom - it is the meeting of the two that is the doom….the devastation of such a battle is what will result in Equestria’s annihilation.”

“You could be right,” Star Swirl said, to Luna’s surprise, “Which is why both of them must be dealt with before their battle can take place.”

“Dealt with?” came Quasar, “Ponies have been trying to deal with Twilight Sparkle for two years now. It’s not possible to contain her.”

“The boy is right. And even if I could, I won’t,” Luna said, “She is like family to me, I couldn’t…”

“I know,” Star Swirl said, “I wouldn’t ask you to confront Twilight. Instead, you and the boy here will go across the sea, to pursue the exile. Defeat her, and you’ll have prevented the doom.”

Yona saw Quasar go pale. He seemed terrified of this exile, almost as terrified as he was of Luna. Luna too seemed a bit unnerved.

“This would be our first meeting,” Luna said, quietly, “Though I feel as though we’re acquainted already, for all of Celestia’s warnings.”

“Celestia would rather retire than have to face the exile,” Quasar pointed out, “And you expect us to handle it?”

“I expect you to try. For Equestria’s sake, if it happens to concern you,” Star Swirl said, bluntly, “You’ll go with them, Yona.”

“Yona?” Yona stammered.

“Yes. Yona,” Star Swirl said.

“And where will you be?” Quasar demanded.

“The exile must be tested, but so must Twilight Sparkle. I have to make sure she’s ready for the perils ahead. Starlight proved a challenge, but for us to be sure, Twilight will have to face an enemy who truly wants to kill her. And I have two candidates in mind. But you will leave that to me. Princess, you have your own task ahead of you.”

Luna rose to her hooves, taking a deep inhale as pain coursed through her body.

Quasar, albeit nervously, straightened up beside the princess. Luna’s eyes darted over to Star Swirl.

“I’ll do it.”

Beyond the bay of turquoise came the slow steady beat of drums and the soft swish of oars from the galleys. Through a crack in the ship hull, Bandolier could make out the cooking fires dotting the darkening beach. The boats rounding the distant corner of the cove could be seen to change course frequently as they kept to the darker blue water on their way in from the open sea to the great city beyond. The colossal cog groaned in their wake, heavy lines of ropes stretched taut between the Kraken’s sails hung limp, dangling forlorn from the masts.

Most of the ships were already moored for the night, out in the harbor or at the wharf, or, for some of the smaller craft, dragged right up onto the white sands. There on the beach was where the shanty towns had been raised in the shadow of the great city further inland, raised up on a ridge of volcanic rock, in view of the deserts and jungles beyond.

Bandolier watched the sunrise at sea from his lonely perch behind that crack in the hull, where the salt breeze kissed his lips and the fog rolled back with the tide. He did not sleep so easily anymore. Waking cold and thirsty and trembling, and afraid, he could never remember what troubled him in his dreams. Only dead memories and some unfamiliar sting in his spine. It was this ship, he had decided. He would hear strange sounds through the woodwork, all throughout the day and night, like a faraway beating or humming or poor attempt at a song. And though he savored his sliver of light from outside the crack in the hull, there were days the light seemed to dwindle too long, or worse, take too long to return.

The captain never visited below deck. Only the mongrel crewmembers came, who seemed to walk and move not by their own accord, as if they were walking while asleep, or under some sort of trance. Days at sea felt like weeks, before at last Bandolier caught sight of the bay. He withheld himself from celebrating. He wondered if he would come to miss his damp little home and the crack in the hull.

It was Left-Hoof Luster and Three-Tooth who came to retrieve him, some time after the Kraken made port. Up the staircase to the main deck, Bandolier winced as the sunlight blinded him in both eyes.

“For Luna’s sake. I miss the brig already, at least there I didn’t have to get a good look at you two,” Bandolier said. Luster’s reply was a scowl and a shove.

Up on the deck, the Captain was still nowhere to be found. While down below all Bandolier knew of the port was its buzzing and bustling of sailors, merchants, and dock workers, up under the sun’s gaze he could catch a glimpse of the port in all its glory, and the great city itself.

Beyond the port, creatures beat drums to herald the captain’s coming, while others blew curious horns that wrapped around their bodies like great snakes of bronze and gold. Columns of camels had emerged from the Jade Gates to greet the captain; they wore scaled copper armor and snouted helms with copper tusks and great purple plumes. And on their backs were blankets of a hundred different hues.

“Nautilus. The greatest city that ever was or will be,” Scurvy had told him, some weeks ago one night at sea. “The true center of the world, ancient beyond memory, so magnificent that Astrolabus the Wise tore out his own eyes after first gazing upon it, for he knew every other sight thereafter would seem dull and ugly in comparison.”

Bandolier had taken Scurvy’s words with some salt, as he did with most of Scurvy’s stories, though the splendor of the city could not be denied.

The great stone walls that surrounded the city on land stood fifty-feet high, built mostly of red and gold sandstone. Engraved in the walls were depictions of animals: slithering snakes, soaring dragons and swimming fish, all arranged in a strange dance along with wolves, raptors, and monstrous elephants. The walls were banded with copper, iron, and in some places studded with golden jewels.

Nautilus was a fantastical fever dream of rose, violet, and umber. Near the port there was a bronze arch fashioned to resemble two snakes coiled around each other; their scales were shards of jade, obsidian, and lapis lazuli. Further on, tall towers loomed, and down every square there were elaborate fountains made in the likeness of griffins, dragons, and manticores.

Taller than any other building was the Royal Palace at the center of the city, a pyramid bearing lush hanging gardens and golden adornments fixed to every terrace, bridge, and archway. But what had stolen Bandolier’s attention was not the palace in all its magnificence, but rather what stood beside it. A relic of antiquity, the amphitheater was elliptical, made of travertine limestone, volcanic rock, and Equian concrete, and was colossal enough to seat 80,000 at most. Flags stood along the top edge of the whole ellipsis.

“You’ll get a closer look soon,” laughed Pinchface Forlorn, the Kraken’s first mate. He nodded for Bandolier to be thrown down alongside the other prisoners, a sorry sight of haggard, hoary, half-dead sailors. Humble Pie was trembling alongside Silver Spar, next to the Half Nurse, Hickey, Rust Bucket, Doodle, and a few others. Cloudy was the only one who seemed to notice Bandolier’s arrival, and he seemed surprised.

“Thought you were dead,” Cloudy said, dryly.

“Save your tears,” Bandolier smirked.

“I was, in fact. Saving ‘em for meself,” Cloudy said.

At the end of the row was a pony Bandolier did not recognize - the withered old stallion’s beard had begun to go white, his skin hung loose upon his bones, and his eyes seemed to have sunk deep into his skull, two purple pits of pulp. Bandolier’s eyes narrowed, and then he realized - Scurvy. He looked twice as old!

Scurvy twitched when he saw Bandolier’s face, and leaned over to get a better look at him.

“What’ve they done to you?” Bandolier said, horrified.

Scurvy spat something onto the deck.

“When we set sail, I prayed to the Nymphs to see us reach this city, however they see fit. Now, I wish I had been a bit more specific.”

Bandolier grinned.

“I didn’t think you’d crack,” Bandolier said.

“Crack? A long time since that, lad. Har!” Scurvy bellowed, before coughing and shrinking in his chains.

The deck got quiet then, and the prisoners’ heads all went down, save for Bandolier, whose attention was seized by the deck ladder shaking under the boots of its newest arrivals.

The first two creatures Bandolier recognized - more of the captain’s ghouls, the red-bearded kirin called Kǒngbù, and the broad-shouldered diamond dog, Butch.

The third was a stranger, a rotund, sun-stained reddish-pink stallion with a beard of deep rose. He smelled of cinnamon and ginger. He wore a robe of deep crimson, lined with gold satin. His eyes passed over the row of prisoners, like a predator inspecting its prey. He bit on the pipe in his mouth, anxiously. There were other ponies lingering back on the dock, soldiers of some kind, presumably in the stallion’s employ.

“Ambrosius, my friend,” came a voice from over Bandolier’s shoulder. The captain had appeared out of his cabin, that candlelit crypt where none of the crew were allowed to enter.

Ursus Valentine wore a shirt of iron scales and a cloak of blood-red silk. His smiling eyes glowed red in the sunlight, though Bandolier had recalled they had once seemed blue.

Ambrosius, the fat pony in the fancy robe, lifted his lips off his pipeweed to speak.

“My lord Morning Star,” Ambrosius grunted, “...You’ve picked a most inauspicious time to visit.”

“Strange, you say that every time I arrive on these shores,” Ursus replied, “I wasn’t sure you’d agree to meet.”

Ambrosius scoffed and set his pipe down.

“I never pass up on potential, even if it comes from you. The Games are mere days away. I’ll buy out the street rats if I think they can turn a profit.” he reasoned, glancing back at the row of prisoners, “But I see you’ve brought rats of your own.”

“Word reached me that your Reds have not been faring so well this year,” Ursus said, “I’ve come to deliver aid.”

Ambrosius muttered some curses under his breath.

“My best racers are crippled. My best fighters are dead. The palace favors the Blues this year, and so many a pony have put a considerable stake against me and mine. Subterfuge, sabotage, and delinquency - this city is lost,” Ambrosius growled.

“One must wonder if your enemies just so happen to train the better warriors,” Ursus wondered.

Ambrosius began huffing and coughing and fuming from the ears.

“Ah. Well. If you thought so, Morning Star, why would you have come to me?” he laughed. Ursus grinned.

The fat pony trotted up closer to the prisoners, and his eyes lingered on each of them for a few seconds, before passing onto the next. Bandolier avoided the pony’s gaze.

“Do any of them fight?” Ambrosius asked.

“You need ponies for fighting and for dying,” Ursus reminded, “Here I have both.”

“No foals,” Ambrosius said, waving off the colts, “You may delight in depravity, Morning Star, but the Conqueror does not. Away with them.” The colts were promptly marched away by some of Ursus’ underlings, and Ambrosius continued down the line. “The greybeard looks to have one hoof in the grave already,” Ambrosius said, glancing at Scurvy, “Not much sport to be had there.”

Ambrosius arrived at Bandolier. He felt around Bandolier’s shoulder muscle, his thighs and chest and hooves.

Ambrosius glared at him, and glanced briefly at Cloudy, the last ponies left in the row.

“I’ll take these two, for one thousand.”

Bandolier and Cloudy glanced at each other, while Ursus’ smile faded.

“One unicorn alone is worth two thousand,” Ursus said.

“These slaves are rotten,” Ambrosius dismissed, waving them off with his hoof, “Not that I would expect any less. I’ll give you three thousand for both.”

Bandolier glanced at Ursus, whose smile gradually came back to his lips.

“Very well, my friend,” Ursus nodded, “May they bring us both good fortune.”

Ambrosius glared up at Ursus, before turning to his companions down on the dock, yelling at them in some foreign language.

“They’re sending us to the pit,” Cloudy realized, “Well….At least my manner of death will be interesting.”

Bandolier glanced back at Ursus, only to find the captain had already returned back to his cabin. There in his place was Clover, dressed in a black and grey gown. He was not sure whether to feel relieved or not to see her; he was glad to know she was alive, though he did not want her last memory of him winding up as whatever gruesome fate awaited him here in this city. He smiled, though his eyes must have betrayed his fear, as Clover could not bring herself to look down on him any longer. Her gaze fell away towards the sea, and her eyes seemed to have reddened just as she spun around.

Ambrosius’ soldiers had a hold of Bandolier and Cloudy, and as they were being marched away, Bandolier found Scurvy’s gaze back on the deck.

“I’ll be back for you, Captain,” Bandolier assured.

Scurvy grinned through some missing teeth, and gave an empty laugh, as he struggled to keep himself upright on his knees.

Ambrosius traveled in a palanquin of red silks fixed with golden rods, propped on the backs of four ponies. Bandolier and Cloudy lagged behind in chains, surrounded on every side by Ambrosius’ personal guards.

Clusters of ponies selling sweetbreads and honey treats and sour wines milled about by merchant posts and archway bridges. The city rose and fell across several layers of groundwork, down causeways and stairwells. Rivers wound through the city and fed into huge fountains at the center of various squares, where fire-breathing warlocks and theater troupes put on demonstrations for passerbys. Most of the ponies Bandolier saw were Erisian, and spoke Old Equian, as opposed to the Equestrians’ Equish. The language was smooth and was spoken quickly, and all around the sandstone dwellings and marketplace spectacles there were ponies chattering and selling their wares. Such a frenzy it was, that Bandolier could hardly keep up with Ambrosius’ caravan, hypnotized by the colors of the banners and buildings and exotic smells. Around every corner there were great stone statues of various crowned animals - tigers, dragons, eagles, and lions, each of whom represented the Conqueror, in all their glory.

Bandolier eventually caught up to Cloudy, and the noise around them was so great that Ambrosius’ guards could not overhear them.

“This place is quite lovely. Might not mind staying,” Cloudy said.

“Your stay will be permanent, if we don’t find a way out of this,” Bandolier reminded.

“I made peace with all sixteen sea gods on the voyage here,” Cloudy said, “So unless I forgot one, my soul should be safe.”

“For Luna’s sake, there’s a way to get through this, and save the others, too,” Bandolier said, “...We just need some friends in our corner. Or, really, one friend in particular.”

Cloudy followed his eyes towards the statue of a crowned tiger.

“The Conqueror….” Cloudy considered, “...You want to see the Conqueror? How?”

Bandolier’s gaze ascended towards the Pit, that calamitous coliseum.

“We’re going to win the Games.”

The march began at first light, when the column of gold and white came trudging out from the gates of Haverford like a steel serpent from its nest.

Each knight had their squires, servants, and pony-at-arms. Behind them came armorers, cooks, ranks of spearponies, axeponies, and archers; grizzled veterans and green boys off to fight their first. Before them marched the spellcasters clad in furs and boiled leather and old mail.

Back of the main column the baggage train followed, and last was the rear guard, the heavy lancers and outriders following half-hidden at the vantages to make certain no foe could steal up on them unexpectedly.

And at the top of the column was Snowfall Glitter, rubbing her eyes in exhaustion as they neared the thickest part of the woods that lay ahead. She had hardly slept at all last night, or the one before.

On the third day out, the Wolfswood pressed close around them, and the rutted roads dwindled down to game trails that soon proved too narrow for their larger wagons. Here and there Snowfall saw familiar landmarks from old adventures; the further they traveled north, the more she recognized. A half-frozen waterfall, a natural stone arch bearded with grey-green moss, she knew them all. Her old home seemed more distant than it ever had before, as if the North itself had spurned her. And why shouldn’t it, she wondered, when she arrives back not as a daughter of the Empire but as an invader, an enemy. No, her home was already lost to her, by Twilight’s command. Her only home now was her armor, her helmet, her sword and shield.

When dusk fell that day, Snowfall chose a clearing in the woods as the site for their camp, near a stream that led up to the Silent River a few miles further.

Her tent’s damp walls of heavy yellow canvas were badly faded, stained by mud and rainwater, with spots of mildew showing. Atop its center pole flew the royal standard.

Taking her seat at the officers’ table, Snowfall could not help but let her gaze linger on where Redshift would have been sitting. Weeks ago, it had been Redshift who had convinced her to march on Haverford rather than try to rout Broadwing’s scattered forces. Snowfall and her army of 3,400 strong had smashed the Highlanders at Farrier Field, though Honeycomb, the Highlander general, had escaped, and had fled south to rally with Hardball, whose army was marching northeast from Tall Tale.

They had won Haverford, but were left trapped in the center of the Highlands, surrounded by Shining Armor’s army approaching from the north and Hardball’s from the south. As far as Snowfall could tell, the only way out was to secure their defenses, and to do so they needed Hellebore’s Fort, a castle fortress several miles northwest of Haverford, past the Wolfswood. She could not leave Haverford completely undefended, however, and so the garrison was given to Saving Grace, one of Snowfall’s most trusted captains.

Snowfall had meant for Redshift to join her on the march, until the courier from Canterlot had arrived with new orders from Marius Moonshine. The changeling wedding was soon to be underway, according to royal intelligence. Moonshine needed somepony to infiltrate the ceremony, rescue the hippogriff princess, and take out as many of the high-profile rebel attendants as possible. Maybe Twilight’s finally run out of assassins.

While Snowfall’s attention was devoted solely to her campaign, Redshift was far more enthusiastic about the mission.

“Twilight thinks of me as weak,” Redshift had said to her, “I failed her in Manehattan. I won’t fail her again. Snowfall. If you were ever my friend, then let me do this. Please...”

In all the time Snowfall had known Redshift, she had never heard her say the word please before. Snowfall gave her leave, but regrettably so, as now she was without yet another of her captains, and all of Redshift’s troops, too.

Prince Terramar had remained at Snowfall’s side, and though he lacked military experience, he was reliable, and had yet to let his fear get the better of him.

Her other captains, Bravo and Sparkshower, were both reliable and good-of-heart, though increasingly prickly and anxious the longer they spent marching through the frozen woods. Days on end, the sun was barely visible beyond the hazy veil of murky grey, and the black shadows of the dead, twisted trees that creaked and groaned with each sharp, shuddering breeze.

Then there was Styles. The bronze fury, the soldiers had started calling him, a far more flattering nickname than Snowfall’s, Twilight’s Dog. She hated nothing more than that name.

Styles, Sparkshower and the ragged remains of their units had all joined Snowfall’s column early on in the march, following their retreat from Starhaven.

“Each time I leave you, I almost wind up dead,” Styles had said to her.

“Best not to stray far then,” Snowfall had replied. She caught herself smiling as the memory looped in her mind. Styles spent his nights with the infantry-ponies now, instead of the officers. He had not bothered to ask her for permission, though she supposed he would do well to help the battalion’s morale, while she was distracted with strategizing and keeping the camp in order.

Like most nights on the road, Snowfall kept herself up by the light of a few scattered candles, hunched over a table of maps and diagrams depicting troop movements in the area. She had studied the map forwards and backwards, and she knew the terrain well, though so did her enemy.

After examining the ration reports a second time, Snowfall sighed, recognizing how their supplies would not last them much longer. All they have to do is give us a chase, and they’ll starve us out before we even get a chance to fight. They desperately needed to pick up the pace, Snowfall decided; they needed that fort in order to stand a chance, whenever the rebels finally reached them.

Snowfall yawned, and she knew she should probably try and get some rest. She set her helmet and her armor down on a rack, grunting as she rubbed at the marks the cold metal had left on her flesh. She supposed she could use another swig of whiskey to help her go to bed. But before she could turn around to dig through her chest, she froze.

An aura of magic had wrapped itself around her neck, and her horn, all too fast for her to anticipate. Her hooves were locked together too, and her lips were suddenly sealed shut. Panic overcame her. What is this?! Was this some rebel trick? She groaned and buckled hard and fought with all her might to cast a spell, all to no avail. Styles! She wanted to scream, Help!! There was nopony in the room with her, as far as she could tell. She gave a muffled shriek through her tightly-shut lips, and struggled relentlessly, completely immobilized.

“You remember me, don’t you?”

The voice came from behind her, from somewhere in the dark. Snowfall felt her heart sink in her chest, and she stopped struggling at once. It’s not possible….

Starlight Glimmer stepped out from behind her, her horn alight. Snowfall’s eyes widened in horror, and she tried her hardest to cast her own spell. But Glimmer’s magic was far too powerful, and Snowfall went slack, helpless. It could not be a changeling, Snowfall thought, no changeling was this powerful.

“I’m going to let you speak, and when I do you’re not going to scream, OK? I just want to talk,” Starlight said, coldly, “Call for help or try to escape, and you’ll regret it.”

Snowfall narrowed her eyes. She did not trust this pony. But she nodded her head, slowly.

Snowfall felt the pressure on her lips disappear.

“You’re alive!” Snowfall whispered, shocked, “Twilight, she…”

“Didn’t care to finish me off. Unlucky for you,” Starlight said, coldly. Snowfall felt like fainting. She's going to kill me! She could hardly cough out a reply, too overcome by shock. She struggled again, as she felt her heart begin beating right out of her chest.

“...Brave as ever, sneaking up on me like that,” Snowfall finally said, through gritted teeth, “Do what you want to me, just don’t hurt any of the others.”

“I’m not here for them. Just you,” Starlight sighed, “...I need your help.”

Snowfall’s brow furrowed, perplexed.

“Help? You’re a traitor! You’re a murderer!”

“I’ve never murdered anypony,” Starlight snapped, “Twilight’s been lying to you. You’re the one leading a few thousand creatures to their deaths.”

Snowfall was speechless for a moment, struggling to collect herself after so many sleepless nights.

“I swore an oath to defend and obey my princess,” Snowfall said, “So that’s what I'm going to do. I have my honor and you have yours.”

“This has gone too far. You know it has.” Starlight stammered, “This isn’t honor. This is blind trust of a pony who’s shown her true colors over and over. You’re walking into a massacre, all for the sake of pride, not honor.”

“What choice do I have?” Snowfall asked.

“Twilight’s getting away with everything because ponies like you are afraid to stand up to her. If you really were brave, you’d do what you know is right, not what she tells you is right.”

“All I know is what I swore to do,” Snowfall said, “Neither of us want anypony to die, I can see that. But I won’t bend, Glimmer. If you want this to end, then go find Shining Armor and tell him to lay down his arms.

Starlight sighed.

“I thought maybe you could be reasoned with,” Starlight said, “Fine. If it’s war you want, go have it. But I’m not finished with you yet.”

Snowfall fidgeted in her magical restraints.

“You want help. Right. What do you want from me?” Snowfall asked, nervously.

“My friends. Do you have any idea where they are?” Starlight asked.

Snowfall hesitated, and for a moment it seemed as though she planned on keeping her mouth shut, but she eventually lowered her head and relented.

“All I know is that they’ve been in Canterlot for months now,” Snowfall said, “But I doubt they’re still there.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because that city’s about to go up in flames," Snowfall said, "I’d wager they didn’t go south, or they’d run right into the dragons."

“So north then,” Starlight determined.

“Probably. I saw Wallflower Blush at the gala the night Silver Stream was ponynapped. There's a chance she'll be at the wedding too. I could be wrong. Either way, it’d be good for you to pay a visit. That hippogriff girl’s life is in danger. If you really do care about saving lives, then there’s your chance to prove it.”

Starlight felt her heart twist in her chest. She released Snowfall, but kept her horn glowing.

“Thanks,” Starlight said, as she turned to leave.

“Wait, Starlight…” Snowfall said, fumbling with her words, “I’m…I'm sorry. I wish….I wish things hadn’t ended up this way,”

“You have the power to end this,” Starlight urged, "Surrender to Shining, Snowfall. Do it. Then maybe I’ll believe you.”

Starlight approached the tent flap, before disappearing in a flash of light.

Snowfall’s eyes fell to the floor. She bit her lip, and hung her head, conflicted.

Her trembling breath was visible in the frigid air, in the cold dead quiet of the winter wood.

Wallflower shuffled her hooves in the snow, leaning against Lightning for warmth. Scampers the rat was scurrying by their hooves, nibbling on some dead leaves he had found in the snow. Suri wasn’t far off, bundled up in three jackets. Sunset and Moon Dancer, meanwhile, were backing away from the parked carriage, which now appeared invisible.

“Nifty,” Lightning chirped, admiring their work. The concealment spell had taken twenty minutes to perfect, though with Moon Dancer and Sunset’s combined efforts, they seemed to have finally figured it out.

At least, they all thought as much, until a gust of wind tossed a tuft of snow off a tree limb up in the forest canopy. The snow landed on where the carriage happened to be, and, upon impact, the spell short-circuited, and the carriage became visible once again.

“How many unicorns does it take to get a spell right?” Suri smirked. Sunset was cursing under her breath.

“We don’t have time for twenty more tries. Moon Dancer, you’re gonna have to stay here and guard the carriage. We’ll go on without you,” Sunset said.

“Fine by me,” Moon Dancer assured, “It's nice and warm in there."

“Just keep a low profile and be ready to pick us up. If there’s fireworks, we’re gonna need a fast exit,” Sunset said.

Behind them, Lightning, Suri, and Wallflower had begun picking up their duffel bags of supplies and making for the backwoods road where they had come from. But Sunset waited to join them, glancing back at Moon Dancer.

“Don’t leave without us,” Sunset said, warily.

“Yeah, yeah. Just don't forget we’re doing this to save the kid.” Moon Dancer said.

“I didn’t forget the tycoon’s niece. I won’t forget Scootaloo either,” Sunset said. Moon Dancer hesitated.

“Why did you save that girl?” Moon Dancer asked.

“Because I could,” Sunset said, “You keep telling yourself I’m the devil, and you’ll think of every right thing I do as a wrong in disguise.”

“Don’t fuck this up and maybe I’ll believe you,” Moon Dancer said.

Sunset smirked and nodded her head, and turned to rejoin the others.

Further on and beyond the road were thick banks of snow, and further still was the town in the distance.

Aquila appeared three times as large as it really was, having been surrounded on three sides by great brigades of Imperials and changelings, whose camps were kept at a delicate distance from one another. Sunset, Lightning, Wallflower and Suri crawled up the bank beside each other. Lightning retrieved a pair of binoculars from her bag, lifting them up to gaze through.

“What do you see?” Sunset asked, after checking over their shoulder to make sure the road behind them was clear.

“It’s….It’s huge!” Lightning exclaimed. “H-How are we that close?!”

Wallflower sighed and adjusted the binoculars on Lightning’s snout, flipping them the other way.

“Oh. Sorry,” Lightning said.

“Idiot. Give me those,” Suri said, snagging the binoculars, “....The imperials are on the north side, the changelings in the south. They’ve built a barricade around the town, there’s more than one gate…..Droves of creatures coming in, some are getting searched….Unicorns. It’s the unicorns getting searched.”

“There’s probably a firewall spell in place,” Sunset realized, “To prevent unicorns from teleporting themselves inside.”

“Guess you’ll have to keep Moon Dancer company, Sunset,” Lightning grinned, “No biggie. Me and these two knuckleheads can make it on our own.”

“Um, no, we can’t, ‘kay? I’m not going in there without Sunset,” Suri said, hesitantly.

“They’re bound to be using a fusion generator to power the spell,” Sunset said, “You three will have to sneak in, find it, and disable it long enough for me to teleport inside.”

“Just the three of us?” Suri asked.

“The faster you get it done, the faster I’ll be able to join you,” Sunset said.

“One of us can distract the guards at the quietest entrance, and the other two can slip inside and take the spell down,” Wallflower said.

“Distract them how?” Suri asked.

“They’re bound to be stallions. How do you think?” Lightning laughed.

Wallflower, Lightning, and Sunset all glanced at Suri, who began playing with her mane.

“Me?” Suri asked, pretending to be humble, “Like, stop, ‘kay…”

“When they see you they’ll drop dead,” Wallflower smiled.

“That would be ideal,” Sunset said, “Wallflower, help her get ready. Lightning, let’s go get a closer look.”

Suri twirled her hoof in her mane, which was tied up in three buns with her front curling over her forehead.

She had splintered off from the caravan of new arrivals, wandering around the town barricade until she found the target gate, which was, as Sunset had preferred, sparsely guarded. There were no creatures marching up on the battlements, and by the gates stood two shivering young boys in silver armor clutching their spears.

Suri trotted right up towards the two guards, who were each a few years younger, swinging her hips as she went and yawning with tired eyes. The soldiers were hunched and miserable, but both seemed to straighten up when Suri came waltzing on over.

“Gentlecolts. What in Luna’s name has made you want to spend a cold horrible day like this standing out in the snow?”

The guards shared a look, skeptically.

“Not exactly up to us, is it?” asked one.

“I could think of a better use for you both,” Suri said, “...I’ve come for the ceremony, but my carriage is stuck in the mud back there on the road. I had hoped for some big strong stallions to help me, but if duty demands you stay here, then….”

“...I don’t know, ma’am, we-” said one, nervously.

“I would pay you both, as well. But, if it’s all the same, ‘kay, I can think of a better form of gratitude suitable for warming each of you up.”

The guards shared a look again, but this time, the beginnings of a grin were curling up on each of their faces.

The pair ditched their spears and followed after Suri, who winked at a pair of bushes near the edge of the bank, as she passed by with the giddy pair of guards.

And from those bushes emerged Lightning and Wallflower, the latter of whom had leaves all stuck in her mane.

“You ready?” Lightning asked. Wallflower was too afraid to reply, but she followed after Lightning anyway, as they made for the unsupervised gate.

Inside the camp, miniature light bulbs dangled from strings stretching from tent to tent, to the barricade and back and all the way into the town itself. There were ponies bustling by in droves, and, to Wallflower’s relief, they had an easy time blending in, what with the cover of the snow and the denseness of the crowds.

“You don’t suppose they’ll have a sign pointing us in the right direction, do ya?” Lightning muttered.

“If Sunset’s right about this generator, it’ll be under guard. Keep an eye out,” Wallflower advised.

The Northern guests had gathered from all over, Wallflower quickly discovered, and each of them had been smart enough to bring their own detail of guards with them. Lady Ophelia and her sister Amulette of Starhaven were present, surrounded by soldiers in purple armor, the few that had survived that terrible battle there just a week or two prior.

Hollyhock and White Tea Rose, the mayors of Amapola and Capricorn respectively, were present too, having taken up a whole corner of the camp to make room for the small army they brought with them. The changelings mostly lingered on the other side of the camp, though Wallflower saw a drone every now and then, flitting the snow off their wings and gnawing at the freezing air.

The changelings and the ponies in the North had long fought each other as mortal enemies, and now they sat together at the same tables, in anticipation of a wedding that would indirectly resolve centuries of battle and bloodshed. The hippogriffs, whose princess was the fulcrum of the alliance plot, were nowhere to be seen however. Most of their forces were still in the North Lunar Sea, picking off the scattered royal fleet, and the rest were with Prince Terramar, fighting on the royals’ side. None of them would make it here in time, Wallflower thought. None of them would save the princess. Maybe we can.

“Hey, check it out,” Lightning said, grinding to a halt and grabbing Wallflower by the shoulder. Wallflower followed Lightning’s gaze over towards a large tent a few yards off, surrounded on every side by imperial guards.

“Jackpot,” Lightning grinned, “C’mon. Let’s do this.”

“Wait, let’s think this through first,” Wallflower suggested.

“Let’s not,” Lightning laughed.

“Wait, what are you-” Wallflower attempted, but Lightning had already begun darting off.

“I’ve got this!” she said.

“Lightning!” Wallflower whispered, as loudly as she could manage. She bit at her hoof and followed after a few feet behind, nervously.

“Halt!” bellowed one of the guards at the tent, dashing the butt of his spear into the snow, “You will go no further, civilian.”

“Right. Ha ha, very funny,” Lightning said, without missing a beat. Wallflower, meanwhile, opted to begin making her way towards the edge of the tent, “You think I’m happy to have to be sent down here? I just want to get this over with.”

The guards glanced at each other, confused.

“Huh?” said one.

“Are you slow or something, buddy? I have to make a status report on the generator. It’s only got so much juice in it, don't you know that? I’m supposed to take a look and see how soon to get the spellbinder down here to charge it back up,” Lightning said.

“Do you have authorization?” asked one of the guards, dryly.

“Uh…yeah, of course, I…” Lightning said, before she noticed Wallflower lingering by the edge of the crowd near the tent out of the corner of her eyes. A smile curled onto Lightning’s lips, “Yeah! Here, take a look.”

One of the guards stepped forward, as Lightning began digging through her jacket pocket. Her hoof emerged, empty, but swinging, colliding into the guard’s face with an audible crack. The guard fell backwards, unconscious, and the other guards around the tent all sprang alert, darting towards her.

With their attention diverted, Wallflower took a great deep breath and began shuffling nervously towards the tent opening. They won’t see me. They won’t see me.

She watched on as Lightning was lost to the scrum, a cavalcade of clanging metal and hooves and snow. Wallflower knew she’d have to hurry before more guards arrived, and so she stopped her dawdling, slipping inside the tent.

The tent was spacious, but deserted, lit by ground-bound torches and occupied only by tables blanketed in parchment.

At the end of the tent, she saw what could only be the generator Sunset had described - a glowing pink jewel fixed to a golden mount, ornate and sturdy and as large as a full-grown pony.

Wallflower approached the jewel, mesmerized, before the sound of Lightning’s struggling outside reminded her to hasten herself.

Wallflower knocked gently on the jewel, which began to vibrate in its mount. Wallflower retracted her hoof, terrified of provoking some alarm system, but nothing came.

Wallflower sighed and bit her lip, before shoving the mount over into the snow. But, to her horror, the jewel kept glowing, and nothing seemed to change.

Wallflower yelped when the tent flap burst open, and Lightning came stumbling in, bruised with a black-eye, and bloodied across her foreleg.

“How’s it coming?” she asked, wiping blood from her snout, "Dude. I think my nose is broken."

Two guards rushed in after her, tackling her to the ground and beating on her with mailed hooves. Wallflower winced at the sounds they made.

“Uhhhh, Lightning it won’t break!” Wallflower said, as she began stomping on the jewel, to no avail.

Lightning grunted and kicked at a guard, tossing teeth through the air and staining the snow red. Lightning grabbed the other by his throat and threw his head into one of the table legs nearby, and then again a second time, until she felt him go limp in her grasp, unconscious. Lightning tore off his helmet and tossed it over her head towards Wallflower.

“Use that!” Lightning yelled, before the other guard’s hoof caught her in the gut.

Wallflower watched the helmet land in the snow in front of her. She felt her heart sink at the sight. I can’t do this!

“Oh please, take your time!” Lightning yelled, throttling the guard as he kept on swinging his hoof into her face, over and over.

Wallflower scooped up the helmet and knelt down in front of the jewel. She raised it up in the air and swung down, as hard as she could. She thought she heard a crack, but after taking a closer look she found the jewel unmarked.

“C’mon!” Wallflower groaned. She mustered up another swing and threw the helmet down again, this time partially denting its rim. But this time she was sure she heard a crack, and, glancing down, she saw the beginnings of a splinter in its top-facing facet. Grinning, Wallflower swung down again, and again, and again, harder and faster and with all the fury she could muster. And on the seventh swing, the jewel had nearly snapped in half, and its glow cut out like a shattered bulb.

“Lightning! I did it! I think! Lightning!” Wallflower cried, but Lightning did not answer. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Lightning lying in the snow, with five spears pointed at her neck. Rows upon rows of guards were filing into the room, all with their weapons drawn.

Wallflower dropped the helmet into the snow, as her eyes went wide.

“Take her,” growled one of the guards, as they all began to advance forwards.

Wallflower thought about running, or fighting, but she found herself stuck in place instead, frozen, as still as a pane of glass.

She shut her eyes, and when she opened them she expected to be thrown down to the ground and put in chains. But instead she felt the frozen air draw back, and a strange sort of heat rushed through her, and when she opened her eyes she saw the beginnings of a golden glow, a flash of lightning inside the tent. She was blinded for a moment, and when her vision returned she saw two ponies had arrived in front of her, standing over an ashy blotch in the snow.

Sunset Shimmer’s horn dimmed as she glanced over at Wallflower, and meanwhile Suri beside her shot Lightning a disapproving glare.

“Is that Suns-” attempted one of the guards, as he and the others all began to back away in terror. But it was too late; Sunset’s horn was already alight.

“Sunset! Don’t hurt them,” Wallflower yelled.

Sunset ignored her, as her horn began burning brighter.

“Don’t!” Wallflower begged.

Lightning shut her eyes and braced herself, hoping she wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire of whatever spell Sunset was conjuring.

But the blast never came, nor the fire, nor the screams. Instead the guards all dropped their spears all at once, and their eyes seemed to glaze over.

Sunset’s horn was still glowing, as she eyed them all down.

“You’ll remember nothing of the past thirty minutes,” Sunset said, “You’ll assume all is well and carry about your day as normal.”

Some of the guards repeated her commands verbatim then, while others seemed so affected by Sunset’s mind magic that they could only manage to babble and drool.

Sunset left them as they were, before she turned back towards the jewel. She ignited her horn again, and Wallflower watched her hard work was all undone, and the jewel was instantly repaired and restored to its former luster.

“Nice job,” Sunset smiled, “All of you.”

Suri trotted over to help Lightning up to her hooves.

“Why is it you only know how to solve problems with your hooves?” Suri asked, dryly.

“It worked, kinda, didn’t it?” Lightning smiled, wiping the blood off her mouth, “How do I look?”

Suri eyed her up and down.

“It’s an improvement.”

The tent flap flipped open, and all four tensed up, facing their new arrival ready for a fight.

But it was not a royal guard, they quickly discovered, but rather a pony dressed in a black coat and tie.

Sunset switched her horn off, while Wallflower sighed in relief.

“Erased?” Sunset asked.

“Bingo,” replied the blackcoat. He was a stallion, an earth pony with a tan coat and dark brown mane. He was rather dull looking, Wallflower thought, which she supposed was optimal for a spy.

“I’m Lackluster,” he introduced, “We were hoping to catch you outside and help you get in here, but I guess you guys like to do it your way.”

“Get used to it. You’ve got a place we can stay?” Sunset asked.

“Yeah, I’ll take you there. We’ve got a layout plan of the mansion they’re holding the ceremony at, and we’re setting up surveillance now. We don’t have much time to prepare. Only until tomorrow night,” he said, before glancing at the still-frozen squadron of royal guards, “These guys aren’t going to be problems, are they?”

“They’ll be fine. Let’s not wait around here for more trouble,” Sunset suggested.

Lackluster nodded, gesturing for them to follow him.

On their way out, Lightning could not help herself from shoving one of the frozen guards over, satisfied with herself for taking revenge.

Trotting through the camp and towards the town proper, Wallflower hung back with Sunset, who took extra care to hide her face under the hood of a blue winter coat.

“Thanks for the save,” Wallflower said.

“Don’t mention it,” Sunset said.

“...You’re nervous?” Wallflower noticed. Sunset tensed up, but smiled a little, amused by how easily Wallflower seemed able to read her.

“There’s more ponies here than I thought there’d be,” Sunset said, quietly so that only Wallflower could hear, “I don’t…I don’t want things to get out of hoof. Like in Ponyville.”

Wallflower felt her lips tighten.

“I told myself I wouldn’t let that happen again,” Sunset said, “No matter how good it felt to get back at Twilight. No matter how easy it was to lose control. I told myself I’d be stronger, that I could save what scraps of who I used to be, that I still had left. But you saw the way those guards looked at me, just today. What I tell myself doesn’t matter. What I am is what matters. Some things you can’t come back from. Not everypony gets to be saved.”

“Maybe,” Wallflower said, “But that’s up to you, nopony else. I know who you are, you're our friend. Me and Suri and Lightning and Bon Bon and Kicks and Scootaloo, we want to help you. But you need to help yourself, too.”

“I want to try,” Sunset said, “I do. But I get reminded of Twilight, and that’s when I fuck up. If Redshift really does show up tomorrow, I’m afraid the same thing will happen. But we’ve beaten her once. I can do it again.”

“We had Starlight with us, last time,” Wallflower recalled, hesitantly.

“Yeah,” Sunset said, “So this time there won’t be anypony holding me back.”

“You have to be the one to do that,” Wallflower said, “You can control yourself. I know you can. You’re not finished until you’re finished.”

Sunset glanced at her, and nodded, as her breath began to quicken.

“We came here for Scootaloo. Fight for her,” Wallflower said, “Fight for us.”

The red brick manor was baking in the sun, and against the sand he felt the heat run through his hooves. The sky was a merciless blue, without a wisp of cloud in sight. Bandolier rubbed some dirt into his hooves, and eyed the six gladiators waiting there in the sandpit.

Ambrosius’ arena paled in comparison to the mighty Pit where the Great Games were to be had, though the warriors inside it were fearsome enough of a sight on their own.

The first was a zebra stallion, a muscled beast with a mane cut short and a pair of sad eyes, called Shujaa. The zebra was all hard muscle, yet he appeared small standing next to the might of the hulking Blacklander brute called Krieger, clean shaven and with a short head of navy-blue hair over his coat of faint, pale blue. Then there was the barbarian mare, Amalza, who hardly spoke any language other than her own. She wore a pale bronze coat and a long, curly black mane that touched her shoulders, and she had brown eyes. She wore a tight black leather skirt and a woven brown cloth crop-top, and wielded a huge spear.

The other three were all Erisian gutter rats, sharp-toothed and feral, and eager to tear into the fresh meat.

Us, Bandolier meant. He glanced at Cloudy beside him, who was looking to Ambrosius nearby for the signal. This was only meant to be practice, Bandolier reminded himself, to size up the new recruits. They were all meant to work together when the real games began. Strength is the only thing they’ll respond to, he thought.

Ambrosius, who was sitting nearby a pair of servants fanning him off with palm-tree leaves, gave a nod, and Cloudy took the first step forward. Bandolier rushed ahead of him, and it was him who first ignited his horn to cast a shockwave towards the three Erisians, who had sprung out from the line like hunting hounds. The ensuing concussive blasts knocked all three back into the dirt, and Krieger gave a mighty laugh then, kicking one of the squirming Erisians out of his way. They were slow to get up, and so Amalza opted to step forward next.

She arrived quicker than Bandolier had expected, and he did not have time to cast a spell before her spear was tearing through the air towards his throat. Darting to the side, he cast a shield spell to block her following strike, and then threw himself back as Krieger ran towards him. The brute tackled him to the ground, though Bandolier was able to throw him off with another spell. He heard Amalza’s spear whistle through the air towards the back of his skull, and, concentrating as hard as he could, he was able to grasp the shaft mid-air in an aura of magic. He swung it around so hard the barbarian hardly understood what was happening, when the end of the shaft slammed into her cheekbone, knocking her into the dust.

Bandolier turned back to Krieger, who promptly grabbed him by the throat, lifting him up and throwing him into the ground.

“Puny Equestrian,” he laughed. Before he could stomp in his face, Bandolier brightened his horn to cast a second sun, blinding the brute and sending him teetering away. Krieger landed on his back, hard, roaring and raging and holding a hoof to his eyes.

Bandolier turned to Shujaa, who had Cloudy beaten and on the ground. But, unlike the others, Shujaa had no intention of killing his opponent outright, offering instead a hoof up. Shujaa glanced at Bandolier, who was filthy, sweaty, and out of breath, and Bandolier swore he saw the zebra almost smile and nod in approval.

“Dirty unicorn tricks,” roared Krieger, who was still rubbing at his eyes, “Equestrian dog.” He spat at the ground and stormed off, while Amalza nearby pulled herself up to her hooves, rubbing her cheek.

“You fight well,” she admitted, eyeing him.

And finally there was Ambrosius in his chair, whose lips had curled into a smile.

Bandolier had been invited to join the fat lord for dinner that night, alone in his third-story chamber that oversaw the pit below and the rest of his redstone manse. The city and the sea glowed gold in the dusk.

There were other servants in the chamber with them, which was flooded with the evening sunlight, stained red and pink from the sea-breeze-blown curtains. But they were so stony and silent that they were virtually invisible.

“My champions,” Ambrosius said, from one end of the table where he sliced into the roasted vegetable pie, “Made fools of by an Equestrian castaway, sold to me as a slave. Ours was no chance meeting.”

Bandolier bit a chunk off a bread roll; he had eaten nothing but raw fish and mold during the voyage on Ursus’ ship, and the taste of real food was both a relief and a cause for a new knot in his gut.

“I imagine the real competition won’t be quite the same,” Bandolier said.

“If I had the resources to train twenty more like I've trained those three, creatures would be waving red from the jade gates to the mountains of the moon. But the palace spurns me, and so I must rely on the lord of gifts.”

“The only gift he’s given me is dead friends,” Bandolier said, “I saw him murder foals.”

“Well, nobody’s perfect.” Ambrosius smiled. “Greater peril awaits you. In my business, life is cheap, and it is neither wise nor profitable to invest too much in any one slave. But my venture rests on your shoulders, it would seem, and so I’ll ask what I should not … what is it you want?”

“It wasn’t my choice to be sold like a dog,” Bandolier said.

“No, but I see the gleam in your eyes, the spark of ambition….To do what, I ask? To fight?” Ambrosius asked, “To survive?”

“My whole life has been fighting,” Bandolier said, “Fighting for what ponies told me to fight for. But none of that seems right anymore. I fought for friendship, and my friends left me to die. I fought for my country, and now it’s fallen into the hooves of killers and crooks. I wanted to try to do what I could, but to do it alone, it….It just seemed pointless. The Equestria I wanted to fight for was gone. That place that’s left -- I didn’t belong there anymore.”

Ambrosius sighed and rose from the dinner table, before trotting over the window. The sea breeze passed by the red pillars, and over the front tower gates Ambrosius could see the entirety of the city, its streets a myriad of torchlights and music.

“There, anypony can belong,” Ambrosius said, gazing through the window. “The Pit of Zababa.” He spoke the name with cautious reverence. His eyes ascended up to scale the massive walls of the pit, which loomed only a few miles away. “80,000 Nautileans watching you, watching your every movement, every decision, every risk. They fall silent the moment before you strike, and then when it’s done, they rise….they rise up like a wave against the harbor, bursting apart to cry out your name.”

“You fought,” Bandolier presumed.

Ambrosius paused.

“Yes,” he answered quickly. His lips quivered as a thousand memories overcame him, and he turned around then, while Bandolier glanced at the floor.

“You fought your way to freedom,” Bandolier continued.

“A long time ago,” Ambrosius said, “The Conqueror, not long after she first came to power, she…she summoned me to her, and she touched me on the shoulder. You must understand, for a high-born to touch a slave…It was unheard of. Now all of us are free, thanks to her, all but the unlucky few. This pit is all that remains of the old world, here, the Games. The powers of the West bent to her every whim, but for one exception. The Games, they crave too much.”

Bandolier laughed.

“You know the Conqueror?” Bandolier bellowed.

“She touched me once, is all,” Ambrosius snapped.

“You asked me what I want,” Bandolier said, approaching him, “I want to stand before the Conqueror, as you did.”

“Then listen to me,” Ambrosius said, “I wasn’t the best because I was the strongest, or quickest, or that I craved it the most. I was the best because I won the crowd. You can win ninety-nine battles in that pit only to die in the hundredth, but win the hearts of the crowd in your first fight, and you might go free the very next day.”

“You make it sound simple,” Bandolier said.

“It’s simple to say, not to do,” Ambrosius said, “In the pit, creatures can only think about survival. But a champion is there to entertain, not only survive. Do both, and you might just earn your chance.”

Bandolier hesitated, and let out a breath.

“I’ll win the crowd. I’ll give them something they’ve never seen before,” Bandolier said.

Ambrosius laughed.

“Very well, Equestrian, then we go off to battle together,” Ambrosius grinned.

His cigarette left a swirl of smoke in the air, before it landed in the snow, to be promptly trampled under his hoof. Blondie scratched at his stubble and checked over his shoulder. He had to glance twice back at Rainbow Dash, whose blonde-dyed mane made for such an efficient disguise that even he was fooled for a moment. Salt Shaker walked beside him, with flakes of snow trapped in the silver streaks of his wooly beard. The giant did not seem to feel the cold, Blondie noticed, enviously.

They had arrived in Aquila that morning. Salt had spent most of the bits they had brought on bribing the guards at the barricade. A small price to pay for what fortune awaited them, Salt had assured.

The town was nowhere near large enough to support this many creatures, Blondie thought. There were soldiers building rudimentary shelters to take care of the overdraft, though in the meantime lines had sprouted out all throughout the town and the camp that surrounded it. Blondie did not mind the company; they would have a much easier time going unnoticed. There was safety in numbers too, to the relief of all present. Everypony here seemed to have their own reason to be afraid.

Salt seemed to know exactly where to lead them, as Blondie and Rainbow trotted on after, stealing a glance up at the great mansion up on the pine-tree hill where the ceremony was surely going to be held. Blondie wondered how many in this crowd were liars like himself, and how many of them had their sights set on the same prize, the briefcase. He thought of Brandy, too, who was sure to be here somewhere, keeping herself safe and out of sight. He was glad for that. The sooner she was rid of that case, the sooner she would be safe. He almost wanted to laugh at the thought; he knew it well by now, that there was no safety. Nowhere to run to.

Salt brought the trio to the door of a tavern in the middle of the town, an old shanty place of frost-bitten wood and tile, where a leather sign hung over the doorpost, and inscribed upon it was The Captain’s Daughter.

Inside, the tavern was a bustling uproar of music, ale, and firelight; great chandeliers dangled from the ceiling, a hundred lights in all, casting a golden glow on all who entered past the hazy veil of sweat and booze and singing. The band in the corner were all smiles, plucking and blowing and banging away, but the patrons themselves matched them in volume, hollering at each other from across the room, crowding around leg-wrestles and drinking contests, or dancing in the center floor in a shambly embrace.

But when the first few pairs of eyes landed on the giant, the music began to wither, and the laughter died off. And the drinks were all set down, the cigarettes were ripped out of mouths, and even the creaking of the chandeliers seemed to wind down to a whisper.

Blondie shot a nervous look at Rainbow, while Salt Shaker hardly batted an eye. He even cracked a grin, glancing around the room like an old pony looking upon his grandchildren.

“My dear friends!”

The crowd returned to its uproar then, with all those present rushing towards Salt by the doors.

“I’m buying you a drink you old fucker.”

“Luna be good. We thought’d you’d been killed.”

“You look like shit, boss. For Celestia’s sake.”

Blondie and Rainbow lingered back by the doors while Salt was swept away and the music returned in full swing.

“I’ll buy you something,” Blondie offered.

“I don’t know. I think I might need a clear head,” Rainbow said.

“I feel exactly the opposite,” Blondie said, taking Rainbow by the hoof and leading her off to join Salt at a table near the bar.

While Blondie had to buy the pair drinks, Salt had already been accommodated, handsomely, by his host of friends.

“All of my friends from Manehattan,” Salt explained, “Blondie will remember some from the Black Hoof, all those boys who ran off with me away from poor dead Crozer."

“And Undergrounders too,” Blondie said, warily, noticing a few familiar faces by the bar.

“Yes. Isn’t it marvelous? A year ago all these ponies wanted nothing more than to kill each other. Now they’ve seen the error of their ways, and want to kill other ponies instead. It’s rather beautiful, I think,” Salt laughed, “Crozer and Trench led by fear. The loyalty they earned was begrudging, and it got both of them killed. Crozer, Trench, they woke up every day to a grim grey world and let it get the better of them. But it did not have to be that way. Look around, and you’ll see the beginning of something new. A life full of risk still, yes, but risk that pays off with music and laughter and joy. That’s why we’re here, my friends.”

“You seem confident,” Blondie said, “You hardly spoke the whole way up here. I was beginning to think your nerves were finally getting the better of you.”

Salt laughed and waved him off.

“If you stare at the sun too long, you may go blind,” Salt said, “But if you never open your eyes, you’ll never know any light. I’ve been living in the dark so long I forgot this kind of feeling, Blondie. The rush, the fear, it’s….Rejuvenating, I dare say. Give them the world, you said once, yes? Here, now, this is just a taste.”

“That’s good to hear. I’d hate for you to crack a hip while we’re making off with the briefcase and the seven million,” Blondie chuckled.

Salt’s smile faded.

“My friends," Salt said, "I won't be going in alone, as you can see. There's no need for you to join me tomorrow night."

“I thought you liked our chances?” Rainbow asked.

“I do,” Salt said, “I like them quite a bit, in fact. If everything goes as I’ve planned, Jet Set will wind up with nothing and watch as I take his entire empire for myself. But I’ve been in this business a great many years, and I cannot say I can’t fathom something going wrong. Believe it or not, even I am capable of error. I’ll be quicker on my hooves without having to worry about the two of you.”

“It’s sweet of you, Salt,” Rainbow smiled, “But I think you’re gonna need us. And I’ve got to be there to see that smug fuck’s shit-eating grin get wiped off his face. Once you have your money, the briefcase goes with me, got it?"

"After tomorrow night, all the bits it's worth will be laid out plain," Salt said, "I came for the fortune, my dear. The case is yours."

"What will you do with it?" Blondie asked.

"Get it as far from Equestria as possible," Rainbow said, "Whatever's in there, it can't be good."

"You don't need to go yourself," Salt said, "Truly. I'm asking you not to. I'll bring you the case after, I'll keep my word."

"That's not what I'm afraid of," Rainbow said, "I'm afraid of you screwing up somehow and getting yourself killed."

“We’re partners, Salt,” Blondie said in agreement, “You need us."

Salt sighed and finished his drink.

“Then for Luna’s sake, drink with me. It may very well be our last chance.”

Specks of dust danced in the light of his lantern, before settling onto the old yellow parchment maps and road-weary letters he was examining.

Two weeks had passed since High Water, and still the dragon lord’s mark had not healed. Razer. That was his name. Vertigo felt his stomach churn as the pain returned in his forehead and around his horn, which had turned black with corruption. Since a few days ago, he could hardly cast even the simplest of spells.

Dodge City had taken longer than he’d have liked. They’d have won in half the time if he had been out there leading the charge himself, but Delphi was adamant that he kept himself out of the front lines, to prevent his wound from worsening. Vertigo gritted his teeth, as his head began to swell again. What kind of captain was he if he could not lead his own ponies?

The garrison at Dodge City had belonged to Captain Whiskey Barrel, who took his orders from Hawkbit, that sniveling runt whose meager attempt at a defensive front had collapsed almost as soon as Ember’s army arrived to test them.

Whatever loyalty Whiskey had once owed Hawkbit, the moment he saw Vertigo and the Greens arrive over the hills, he struck down his royal banners and raised the green flag instead. Vertigo had never been fond of Whiskey Barrel. A drunken, lecherous fool. But the city loves him, and so I must, too.

Most of the dragons’ strength remained with their empress, Cinder, as Vertigo had quickly learned; Dodge City and High Water seemed more like distractions meant to keep him preoccupied. Was I a fool to take her bait? No, he told himself. He had saved both cities, and thousands of ponies’ lives. For weeks these ponies’ pleas had gone unanswered, until one reply came, and a captain who still cared.

There had been three dragon lords in command of the siege at Dodge City, and only one left alive after the siege had been broken. Sear was reported to have been speared through the throat, and Sawtooth had been trampled to death. Revel, Chief of the Moon Brothers, had been kept alive, and Vertigo had tasked three of Whiskey Barrel’s more competent lieutenants, Felicity, Pepperjack, and Caliber Cage, to handle the interrogations. Whiskey, meanwhile, was tasked to begin hosting the celebratory feasts, as suggested by Delphi. Vertigo had not meant to attend, though Delphi had convinced him. “The city needs to see you. They need to see your face. They need to know who it is that saved them.”

And so they had; when the captain’s chariot rolled through during the parade, the whole of the city was calling his name, waving banners of green and stretching out their hooves towards him. But for all the faces he had seen in those crowds, the only one that lingered in his mind was Delphi’s. It was some devilry, he thought, how she had bewitched him, how she consumed his every thought.

Growling and setting his maps down, he leapt up and out of his tent. He did not feel in control of himself then, stumbling out through the camp, ignoring his soldiers’ bows and salutes.

He found Delphi in her tent, a magnificent palisade of purple silks. To his horror, she was not alone. He recognized a few creatures right away - various aristocrats of Dodge City, along with Hydrangea, Whiskey Barrel, and his own lieutenant, Drake Destrier. The small crowd all turned their attention towards him when he entered, though his eyes never left Delphi.

“Vertigo!” Delphi exclaimed, before her guests moved aside for her to prance up to him and greet him with a kiss on the cheek.

“It’s a bit late for company, no?” Vertigo asked her, under his breath.

“Then why pay me a visit?” Delphi smirked.

“Captain,” came a voice from behind the crowd. Vertigo’s eyes darted up away from Delphi, what was once an impossible task, as he recognized the pony who spoke. The yellow-green earth pony was tall enough to peer over the crowd.

“Featherglass?” Vertigo said, aghast. Vertigo smiled; he had always been fond of the royal treasurer, though he could not help but be suspicious. He hardly trusted anypony anymore, anyways. Not even his own lieutenants. Nopony, nopony except for Delphi and himself.

“Forgive me, I didn’t think we’d get to meet until tomorrow,” Featherglass said. Vertigo noticed Featherglass’ gaze shift up towards his horn, before just as subtly retreating back to eye level.

Vertigo felt his face harden, and he flinched. I cannot appear weak.

“I hadn’t been expecting you,” Vertigo said, glancing at Hydrangea, “If you’ve come for the boy, I regret to tell you he’s chosen his country over his princess.”

Featherglass raised an eyebrow.

“Ah, well, his princess will be most grieved to hear that, given what peril awaits her and her ivory city,” Featherglass said, “...I should congratulate you. You’ve won twice where nopony thought you would. Still, Twilight underestimates you.”

“And she overestimates herself,” Vertigo said, “Why have you come here? To pick up a spear and join me?”

Featherglass smiled.

“A spear would be wasted on me. But consider instead, I could offer you ten thousand spears.”

The small crowd began snickering in amusement at such a proposition. But Vertigo did not laugh, and neither did Delphi, who stood near him, her foreleg wrapped around his. Featherglass’s smile never left his face, not for a moment.

“Canterlot is weak,” Featherglass said, allowing his words to hang for a moment, “The dragons are on the march, and as things stand now, they will lay siege to the city and raze it to ruin. It’s my belief that you and only you can change that.”

Delphi glanced at Vertigo, who nodded his head.

“We’ll do what we can,” Vertigo said, “My task is not finished until all the dragons have left these lands alone. And I will not let the Dragon Queen escape justice for all the blood she’s spilled.”

“It’s not your courage I came here to question,” Featherglass said, “Or your determination. It’s your ambition.”

“I’m a soldier, not a politician. You learned to have ambition, but I learned duty. I live for nothing else,” Vertigo said.

“Then prove it,” Featherglass said, “Twilight Sparkle’s grasp on the throne is far more tenuous than you might think. Her mind is scattered, her allies are turning against her, and her armies are stretched thin. Regardless of what you believe happened to Bronze Beam and all those poor dead souls at Ponyville….it is not beyond reason to question if our princess is the right pony to lead us onward. Ponies can scarcely remember what it was like to live in peace, when harmony endured in this land. But I’ve seen harmony again, in this city, here. And it was your doing, Captain. So maybe Equestria does still have a chance - not under the reign of a wicked dragon queen, or a mad princess. But a captain. A king.”

Grave silence fell upon the tent. Vertigo did not notice Delphi staring up at him with wide eyes.

“....Mad or not. I'm no match for Twilight Sparkle,” Vertigo said, quietly, “My horn, it’s….And even so, I….What you ask is…I have no right.”

“Might makes right. A window has opened for you,” Featherglass said, “At the height of the chaos, then and only then can you do what is right. Your duty does not end with the dragons' defeat. It ends with the throne.”

“You’re mad. March with my army alone? Against the dragons and Twilight?” Vertigo stammered.

“And my spears, don’t forget them,” Featherglass grinned.

“Whose spears?” Delphi demanded.

“March on Canterlot, and I’ll show you,” Featherglass said.

Vertigo sighed, and glanced at the ground.

“We’ll discuss this more tomorrow. My friends, I would have a moment with Delphi, alone,” Vertigo said.

The ponies all went about setting their drinks down and making for the exit, whispering to each other. Featherglass remained, briefly, before trotting out with the hints of a grin on his face.

When they were gone, Vertigo let out a gasp for air, and collapsed into one of the seats, exhausted.

Delphi eyed him, and he noticed some contempt buried in her gaze.

“What is it?” he asked, weakly.

“We’ve come all this way,” Delphi said, “And since your first step on the road to war I’ve believed in you. Was I wrong? Was this all a mistake?”

“Don’t speak riddles,” Vertigo grunted, “I never said I wouldn’t march.”

“You can have your victory, you can have a hundred more, what will any of it be worth if you abandon your chance to destroy our true enemy?”

Vertigo rose from his seat, suddenly.

“Cinder is my true enemy. I have no love for Twilight, but if we can make common cause against Cinder, then-”

Delphi smacked him across the face.

“Listen to yourself. Common cause? With the treacherous witch whose machinations have brought the world to the edge of ruin? The dragons would never have thirsted for ponies’ blood if not for Twilight Sparkle taking their empress’s head to begin with.Nothing is made right until both of them are destroyed. I know the road ahead seems uncertain, but listen to your heart, and listen to me.”

“Destroy them both?” Vertigo laughed, “We are lucky we even took this city, if you want the truth. I might have killed Razer, but he's far from finished with me….His mark's cut deep. My magic is gone. I can't destroy them. I can't save the city, either.”

“I’ve fallen in love with a coward, I see now,” Delphi sighed, “Equestria’s fate lies in your hooves, Vertigo. It’s late, and you’re tired, I know. You’ve saved thousands of ponies, but there are tens of thousands more who still need you. Will you abandon them?”

Vertigo did not answer, glancing over at the flames of a nearby torch.

Delphi scoffed.

“I expect an answer in the morning,” she scoffed, before storming out of the room.

Vertigo sighed under his breath and watched her leave, before sitting himself down in one of the chairs by the torch. He sat back and shut his eyes, exhausted. While his eyes were closed, he heard the tent flaps rustle again.

“What is it now?” he growled.

But it was not Delphi who had emerged from the black of night, but rather a pony he did not recognize.

The stranger was a unicorn, draped in a muddy black cloak, and half-obscured underneath his hood. He had a great white and grey beard, and golden eyes.

“Who are you?” Vertigo demanded. The unicorn was old, and seemingly no threat, though his presence here was inexplicable, “How did you get in here?”

“On my own four legs, of course,” the strange old pony replied, “We have never met, have we?”

“...No,” Vertigo said, no he felt a strange sense of familiarity in the old pony’s face. Vertigo nervously rose up to his hooves. He hardly posed much of a threat with his corrupted horn, but the old pony did not have to know that.

“You’re afraid, Captain. Don’t be. I come as a friend,” the old pony said in a low voice.

“You come as a stranger,” Vertigo said, “Or as an assassin, yes? I didn’t think I’d have gotten so deep under Twilight’s skin so quickly.”

The old pony laughed, in a low, gravelly bellow.

“You’re mistaken,” the old pony said, “I have seen you in the flames, Vertigo. You come armed and armored, stern and fierce, your horn dripping blood, blind to the black strings that grasp you at ankle and neck, that make you dance.”

“Dance?” Vertigo bristled, “Your flames lied. I was not made for dancing, and I am no pony’s puppet.” He pulled some of gauze away from his scalp and revealed his horn. “Here. Is this what you wanted?” The new bandages were already discolored by blood and pus.

The old pony approached, stroking his beard and eyeing the rot at the base of Vertigo’s horn, and the blackened, congealed blood that was oozing from where Razer’s ax had struck.

“If you allow me, I will heal this,” the old pony said,

“The doctors have done all they can. Why should I think a wandering wizard can do better?” Vertigo laughed. The old pony ignored him.

“I will need a blade. Silver would be best, but iron will serve. A fire as well. There will be pain. Terrible pain, such as you have never known. But when we are done, your horn will be returned to you.”

Vertigo wavered. His horn was all he needed, Vertigo considered. All that would be left was Canterlot. Twilight. The throne.

Vertigo grinned, as if he had heard a joke only he could understand the meaning of.

“I laugh at pain. You'll have what you require … but if you fail, and if my horn isn't healed, I'll kill you myself.”

The old pony bowed, his golden eyes shining. “So be it.”

The captain was not seen again that night, or the day after, but as the hours passed the soldiers of his Green Army reported hearing the sound of wild laughter coming from the captain’s tent, laughter deep and dark and mad, and when Nebulous Gale and Drake Destrier tried to find the entrance they found it had disappeared. Later singing was heard, a strange high wailing song in a tongue nopony knew. That was when the rats fled the camp, screeching as they hurried out into the city streets beyond. Whiskey Barrel had mustered up some swords to investigate, while Delphi withdrew herself to her own tent, believing Vertigo to have gone mad.

Come sunset, as the swollen sun turned the sky a deep and bloody red, Vertigo came back outside. He wore no clothes, and his entire face was red with blood. Whiskey and Gale and Drake were all there, staring on in horror. And as the other soldiers all gathered, whispering and trading glances, Vertigo lifted his head to reveal a charred and blackened horn, where wisps of smoke drew out into the air.

Vertigo’s eyes passed over them all. The soldiers all seemed to quiver and wince before his gaze, as if they were staring right into the sun. Some fell to their knees, some ran off sick to their stomachs, but most just stared with wide eyes and tight grips on their spears.

Vertigo breathed in a mouthful of dust. There was a power in him he had never known before. The old pony emerged next and stood at his side. He stroked his beard and eyed Vertigo from a distance, before glancing back at the crowd of soldiers.

Vertigo took a step forward, and most of the soldiers stepped back in terror. Delphi had appeared by the edge of the crowd, holding a hoof to her mouth, on the verge of tears. Featherglass was beside her, holding a curious look on his face.

Vertigo’s eyes twitched, and his jaw was locked for a moment before he could first speak.

“You all here with me,” Vertigo said, quietly at first, “You who stormed the breach at High Water and fell upon the walls of that great city there. You who followed me through mountains and deserts and forests and rivers and the great battles of our lives … Did so for the memory of a land that once was. A land that’s been lost to tyrants and killers and thieves. That land is not gone. Not yet. Where we march, that land is born again. The rot that has brought Equestria to flame and ruin began in one place, and there is where it must end. There is where our mission is complete. Our victory will not be earned by strength in numbers - we don’t have it. It will not be earned through tricks or deception. It will be earned through the courage of ponies, which will not fail, not this time.”

The crowd began to stir then, as more and more soldiers gathered from all over the camp.

“March with me, and we will see this land free of the dragons’ wrath, and I will take the Empress’ head myself,” Vertigo exclaimed.

The crowd roared in reply, while Vertigo’s horn ignited, brighter and hotter than it ever had before. And all those there were in awe of it, while Vertigo’s heart began beating faster.

“March with me, and we will see the tyrant Twilight Sparkle’s crown struck off her head,” Vertigo declared. The soldiers all roared again in reply, this time igniting their horns or spreading their wings or raising their weapons into the air.

“Our fight will be hard. And I will not look upon anypony any differently, if they should decide to remain here. But me, I am restless for revenge. Revenge for Equestria. For the sons and daughters sent to die in Twilight Sparkle’s war. For all those ravaged and killed and made to live in fear for the dragons’ wrath. My friends….I have no right to ask this of you, but I must. Will you follow me one final time?”

The crowd, almost unanimously, gave a raucous cheer, again waving their weapons in the air. Delphi was beaming ear to ear, and so was Featherglass, nodding his head in approval.

The old pony beside him laughed, as did Vertigo, who could hardly contain himself as he belted out once more.

“We march to Canterlot!” the captain roared, “We march for the throne!”

Bon Bon leaned against the gun-metal railing. Her hangover had lasted for days, and she wanted nothing more than to find a bed to call her new home.

Her host suffered a similar affliction; Alias was an old stallion, thin but not exactly frail, with a greying, tannish mane that had receded up his scalp. He appeared twenty years older since their last meeting, the day Bon Bon resigned from the agency.

None of the Erased agents seemed pleased to see her, their ex-colleague. Ponies in the Erased were expected to serve for life, but Bon Bon’s cover lived a better life than she ever had, and so she opted to slip right in, leave everything behind, and live as ‘Bon Bon’ forever, together with Lyra.

Maybe if she had stayed on board and abandoned that chance, then Lyra would never have been killed. I chose to love her. And she died for it.

She had not been glad to have been stuck on babysitting duty, but Sunset had insisted that the Erased take care of Gilded Lily, and Kickstart was in no condition to leave the city.

It was Slick who had led them to the Erased’s Headquarters, a labyrinthine compound buried several stories underground. When Bon Bon had first arrived, carrying Kickstart on a makeshift cot behind her, none of the sleep-deprived agents seemed to be able to take their eyes off him. The monster that had escaped, she heard them whisper, #67. That’s #67.

Bon Bon had focused most of her attention on keeping Kickstart safe. He woke up intermittently, panicked and in agony, before he fell under again, never aware that he had been brought back to the place he had fought for years to escape from. The doctors said they would do what they could, though Bon Bon insisted she would never leave his side. It was these ponies who did this to him, as Lightning Dust had reminded her forty times already, and she could not leave him unsupervised.

A skeleton crew of agents was all that remained here; most agents had been deployed to start building and renovating safehouses and underground bunkers all over Equestria, for the purpose of housing refugees fleeing the war.

Through the video feed on the titanic projector that consumed an entire wall facing the command center, Bon Bon watched the grave procession, the death march of six thousand strong, that fearsome host belonging to the dragon queen, Cinder, whose wrath had swept through the South. Behind the march, the southern sky was black with smoke, from the dragons’ second assault of Ashford. Commander Hawkbit had committed himself there, him and his Red Regiment. The battle lasted three days, and it was said that Hawkbit suffered a grave injury on the second, scorched by dragonfire such that part of his face was left grossly disfigured.

Cinder had not wasted time pursuing the scattered remnants of Hawkbit’s defeated forces; her eyes were fixed on just one thing, the prize worth more than all of the other victories put together.

Canterlot.

Bon Bon had sat herself down on one of the spinny chairs to watch the live feed, as she munched on a bag of potato chips, with Kickstart’s unconscious body propped up beside her. Every now and then she would reach over to stick a chip in Kickstart’s mouth, though he did not wake. The Erased had stabilized him, though he could not be left outside of the operating room for longer than an hour.

Few they may have been, the agents left in the capital were, for the most part, those who Alias seemed to trust the most. He had sent some agents, Foxtrot and Scorn, to head down the Royal Road and, in addition to the spiked barricades set by the army rangers, they were to go about burying three-hundred landmines, from Ponyville to the mountain rise.

Alias himself seemed to hardly sleep, or even leave the command center. His efforts these past weeks had been largely committed to helping the many refugees of the south, though now all he could focus on was Canterlot.

"You could lend a hoof, instead of just sitting there."

Bon Bon practically jumped out of her chair, when Alias' voice revealed itself behind her.

"You're not my boss anymore, chief," Bon Bon chirped, "My friends, did they get out of the city?"

"They did," Alias confirmed, "I'm putting my trust in them. Does that make me a fool?"

"No, but staying here in this city does," Bon Bon said, "You can't do anything about the dragons once they get here. You don't have an army."

"We can still help," Alias said.

"For every pony you help, you hurt another," Bon Bon said, glancing at Kickstart, "You want him dead still, don't you?"

Alias walked up to lean over the railing.

"I did," Alias said, "Not anymore."

"Why?" Bon Bon demanded, "What changed?"

"Because maybe we don't deserve to get off that easy," Alias said, "Because an unstable lab rat he might be, you and your friends seem to be able to control him, somehow."

"Maybe because we treat him like a pony. You should try it sometime," Bon Bon said.

Alias glared at her.

"You were one our best, it's true," Alias said, "But there were some things you never understood. Things you still don't. You think you can have anything you want. A promotion. A distraction. Lyra Heartstrings. Revenge. Being the good guy. We can either be the good guys, or we can be the ponies who save the world. We can't be both."

"What you did to him, that's saving the world?" Bon Bon asked.

Alias lowered his head.

"I wish we didn't have to," Alias said, "But we did. Twilight Sparkle, Ember, Thorax, Novo, Celestia...If we put all our trust in the ponies we think want to protect us, we're leaving ourselves vulnerable. But I trust us to fight for the ponies of Equestria, only, to do that means showing strength that few ponies possess. So we had to invent our own."

Bon Bon glanced down at Kickstart, who was twitching in his sleep.

"He was the only subject to survive," Alias said, "Though it seems like his time is running out, too."

"There must be something you can do," Bon Bon said.

Alias shook his head.

"We can put him out of his misery. That was I first thought, when he ran off," Alias said, "But now..." His eyes drifted up towards the screen. "Gore said the war was inevitable once. I fought to prove him wrong. I tortured those ponies, I killed friends of mine, all for nothing."

Bon Bon studied Alias, as he leaned in further past the railing.

"But I'll keep trying," Alias said, "Because Equestria still needs us. And I'll be fighting for Equestria, until Twilight Sparkle pays her debts." He glanced down at Kickstart, who twitched again. "Or until I pay my own."

Ten thousand voices echoed all the way across the bay, and there at the base of the Pit was where they roared the loudest. Atop the arena, flags waved in the wind, bearing the banners of Nautilus’ esteemed, noble families. And below in the surrounding streets, creatures of all kinds were flooding into the stadium entrance. There were royal legionnaires in grey armor and red capes parading around the perimeter, and huge elephants trumpeting as they were led through the crowds.

All around the Pit were ancient structures of antiquity, columned temples and huge statues, ornate behemoths that made the creatures in the crowds look like ants.

An iron gate led into a walled-off area adjacent to the Pit; the inscription on the stone archway read LVDVS MAGNVS.

From the bars of the cage that sat in the back of the carriage, Bandolier watched as the iron gate closed behind them. When the carriage had come to a stop, he backed away from the rear door of the cage, where one of Ambrosius’ guards had promptly arrived to release the padlock keeping him trapped.

There were ten others there with him in the cage. Shujaa the zebra had sat across from Bandolier, keeping a watchful eye, while Cloudy had sat beside him. And at the other end was Krieger and Amalza, and all the other slaves that made up Ambrosius’ collection of prime-stock warriors.

“Out!” barked the guard outside, punctuated by the ringing of a bell. The walled-off area was cluttered with passing caravans of rival gladiator teams, racing teams, and other attractions.

Bandolier stepped out into the shadow of the Pit, that loomed overhead like some dark god.

“I never thought creatures could build such things,” Shujaa remarked, marveling at the arena as if it was his first time laying eyes on it. A flock of birds darted up the five stories of sun-baked stone, while storm-clouds lingered up above.

The guards began rushing the ten slaves along through the crowds that had gathered up by the arena gate. One mare had rushed out from the crowd to kiss Bandolier on his cheek, three times in all. An act of pity, Bandolier thought, but he only laughed and continued along.

When they came upon the interior gate, Ambrosius was waiting for them already, and beside him was a pony Bandolier did not recognize, a portly pony with a curly wig and a jowly face. In the entrance area of the arena was where the crowd was thickest, with creatures gathering around betting boards, pointing and waving and throwing their hooves in the air.

“The Conqueror wants real contests,” Ambrosius said to the jowly pony, “And these are my best fighters.”

“The crowd wants spectacle,” the jowly pony corrected, “So the Conqueror gives them spectacle. Massacre counts as spectacle.”

“I won’t send my best fighters out to die at the hands of some supernatural abominations.” Ambrosius growled, before waving to a pony he recognized in the crowd, “You send beggars and thieves to fight the Titans.”

“We’ve done that,” the jowly pony replied.

“If you’re so eager to waste the greatest gladiators in the kingdom, then I want double the rates,” Ambrosius demanded.

“You’ll get what you agreed you’d get,” the jowly pony scolded, “You don’t like it? Then you can crawl back down the sewer drain you popped out of.”

The jowly pony left him with a smirk, while Ambrosius gritted his teeth and muttered some curses under his breath. Only then did he notice that Bandolier and the others had arrived.

“Who exactly are we fighting?” Bandolier asked, warily. Ambrosius glared at him.

“Nevermind who. Come with me, it’s almost time,” Ambrosius said.

Bandolier glanced at Cloudy, hesitantly, but proceeded after Ambrosius.

They were led deeper into the innards of the arena, where tunnels weaved underground, supported by wooden fixtures. In one area they came across the armory, which included bizarre-looking helmets and exotic weaponry.

The armor Ambrosius had given him fit snugly enough, tied with leather straps around his back. The vambraces on his forelegs were lightweight, and he could dart around easily enough as without them. The iron and boiled leather were poor quality, he deduced, and he could not count on any of these gifts to save his life. The horned helmet he had been given was the heaviest piece of equipment, and the noseguard obscured much of his face. His vision was not impaired, though he did have difficulty squeezing his horn into the forehead slot.

The games had begun earlier that day, and so the stadium was already filled to the brim. Or at least, Bandolier thought as much from underground, based on how loud the cheers were.

Bandolier and the other ten slaves were marched towards the wooden elevator, but first they were made to line up on either wall. Ambrosius stood between them all.

“Listen,” he said, as soft as a whisper. And the sound of the crowds seemed to grow louder in response then, “Defeat your enemy. And they will applaud and love you for that. We are all already dead. We cannot choose how we end, but we can choose how we meet it. So that we are remembered for who we are, not how we died.”

Bandolier’s eyes flickered to the ground. He found his resolve then, a course back to the fight he had sought back home. He would fight for the chance to see Equestria restored, someday, somehow. And he needed the Conqueror to do that. He needed to win.

Guards on either side began shouting commands, ushering the ten slaves into the wooden elevator. Bandolier caught one last look from Ambrosius, before the glare of the sun from overhead blinded him.

The elevator ascended.

The arena smelled of roast onions, wine, figs, melons, pecans, peppers, and honeyed locusts. Tens of thousands of ponies’ faces were all peering down on them, as the ten slaves emerged from the elevator platform and began walking towards the center of the Pit.

Across the pit the royal High Priestesses sat in flowing robes of many colors, cluttered around the royal palanquin. The Nautilean elites occupied red and orange benches. The mares were all veiled, and the stallions had brushed and lacquered their manes into horns and spikes. They wore indigo and lilac and purple, or pink and white. The envoys from Saddle Arabia wore gold and orange and filled the box alongside the king and queen, each of them with their servants. Nautileans of lesser birth crowded the upper tiers, more distant from the carnage. Beneath them were the freed ponies and common folk, and sellswords too.

And by the king and queen sat another pony, atop a platform straight ahead from where the slaves had risen out of the ground.

She was larger than an ordinary pony, slender and graceful. Her eyes were violet, her mane like a river current of pink, purple, and blue stardust. Her coat was a deep pink; she was fair of face and youthful. Most bizarrely, her horn was of greater size than any unicorn he had seen before. Her gown was dark purple satin overtop pink silks, billowing out from a plum corset. She seemed to glow in the sunlight, radiant and unmistakable even from a distance. Bandolier knew at once that this was the Conqueror, the empress of the West.

The Conqueror did not sit alone. To her left was the King and Queen of Maretonia, Kyrippos II and Ice Mirror, and to her right, the Caliph of Saddle Arabia, Haakim, and his wife, Amira, and the Zebra Queen, Jahari. And nearby the Conqueror was a pegasus pony, armed as a legionnaire, in silver armor with a deep red crest and cloak. His coat was gold, and Bandolier thought he might have been able to recognize him, if he could have had a closer look.

And near the legionnaire, bent over the mare’s shoulder was Ursus Valentine, still draped in his shirt of iron scales and cloak of blood red silk. Clover was not with him. Ursus had not wasted time earning the Conqueror’s favor, he thought.

But Bandolier could not focus on Ursus; his eyes were drawn only to the Conqueror. With wondrous art her face with all its delicate pallor was suffused with a deep pink. Her eyes were so bright they seemed like two stars. She was made to be looked at, Bandolier thought, for in her one could have seen himself as in a mirror.

“We fight and die for your honor,” came all of the slaves in unison, raising their blades up towards the Conqueror. All except for Cloudy and Bandolier, who were not familiar with the procedure.

There was a new rumbling in the arena, and Bandolier knew at once that their enemy was approaching.

Trumpets blared, then came the drums. Up in the pulpit in the eastern corner of the arena, the jowly pony emerged, approaching a microphone awaiting him.

“Good citizens of Nautilus!” the pony boomed, to the thunderous cheers of the crowd, “...Today we look back to the past. To bring you a recreation of the second fall of mighty Istanbull. On the sands of Midilli stood an invincible army of ferocious mercenaries and warriors from brute nations, bent on merciless destruction and conquest. The Conqueror is pleased to give you - the Warriors of Istanbull!”

Cheers came pouring out from the crowd, but mostly jeers.

“Whatever comes out those gates,” Bandolier said, “Keep close. Keep quick. We survive if we stay together."

Krieger scoffed, while Cloudy kept himself firmly fixed at Bandolier’s side.

“And the Conqueror is pleased to give you - the Titans of Terrostia!”

The circle of slaves shifted to face the first door that opened, and the stampede of armored warriors that followed, their faces all painted blue.

Among the Blues was a harpy, who had the upper half of a pony, with wings for forelegs, and the lower half of a bird. Her eyes were thin slits and golden, and she made a horrible screeching sound when she spoke. She took flight right away, and behind her came the one called Tavius the Tyrant, a brutish, freakishly huge unicorn painted from head to hoof in blue, who rode a flying chariot pulled by an albino dragon, who was called the White Worm.

The Harpy reached the circle first, darting down in line with the sun to blind them all, before she could sink her claws into one of the gutter rats. He left the ground screaming, as the Harpy lifted him up and up before ripping into his neck with her fanged teeth. The crowd erupted in cheers as the pony’s remains came spilling back down to earth.

“Together!” Bandolier yelled, “Watch the sky! Spears ready!”

More doors opened and more Blues emerged, enclosing them on all sides.

The Harpy was circling them from far up in the air, while Tavius and his chariot kept a greater distance, circling them from the edges of the arena. Tavius’ horn was alight, and the first bolt of magic came so quickly Bandolier hardly even glimpsed it. But he did see it meet its mark, when one of the slaves caught the bolt in the chest, flying off his hooves as his armor and flesh were incinerated.

“Keep your shields up!” Bandolier commanded.

The circle had already come undone; Krieger had rushed off towards the charging Blues. He had been quick enough to dodge one lance and bash in the skull of another with his face, before using his warhammer to smash in a third’s chestplate. Then an arrow ran through his hind leg, and he nearly fell to his knees, before rising again to meet another Blue. When the Blue’s spear lunged towards him, Krieger swung up with his hammer to smash the spear into splinters, before swinging around to deck the Blue in the face, spinning his neck around and sending the Blue collapsing into the dust.

But Krieger did not see the chariot that had rounded the edge of the arena, rushing towards him. Bandolier arrived first, however, tackling Krieger to the ground just as the chariot ran towards them.

Bandolier returned to the circle, while Krieger grunted in pain in the dust.

The Harpy had descended back down, fending off the spears of Amalza and two more of the slaves. The Harpy slid through the spearpoints and slashes at the neck of one of the slaves, and nearly did the same to Amalza, before Bandolier’s horn ignited from afar, and a blast of magic burned a hot red hole through the Harpy’s wings.

The crowd roared in shock and horror as the Harpy shrieked and spiraled into the dust. One of the slaves tried to spear her while she was down, but the Harpy’s claw found him first, closing in around his throat, puncturing his flesh on either side before tossing him into some of the others.

Amalza took a step back as the Harpy found her footing, grunting and hissing.

Amalza readied her spear, but the Harpy was quicker, lunging straight for Amalza’s throat.

But her teeth never landed, before Bandolier had fired a second shot, and a third, and a fourth, poking the Harpy full of holes until the creature finally croaked and fell dead, feathers jetting out in the air.

The crowd was ecstatic now; nobody had ever beaten the Harpy before.

The center of the arena had turned into a mad melee of slaves, Red and Blue. Another of the Red slaves had been killed, as Bandolier discovered after nearly tripping over the stallion’s corpse.

“Bandolier!” cried Shujaa, Bandolier glanced, and saw that Shujaa was aiming a spear at him. Instinctively, Bandolier ducked, and Shujaa threw his spear. Bandolier missed the blade just barely, before it tore through the chest of the Blue who had been charging him from behind.

Bandolier glanced back at Shujaa, and nodded his head in gratitude.

“The dragon - it’s sensitive to light!” Bandolier told him.

“Did the dragon tell you that?” Cloudy joked from nearby, dodging a stray blast from the circling Tyrant.

“Light? How do you know?” Shujaa demanded.

Bandolier thought of Alias, and the Erased, who had taught him all there was to know about foreign species and their peculiarities. This dragon appeared to be partly a groundwyrm, a species who spent most of their time burrowing under the earth.

“Just trust me,” Bandolier said, “Reform the line! We’ll lure him in close! When I give the signal, pull up, as one.”

“As one,” Shujaa replied, nodding with a smile.

Bandolier left them as Krieger stumbled back to rejoin them, having snapped the shaft of the arrow that had been stuck in his calf.

Bandolier began firing shots at the chariot, while Krieger took care of the remaining legionnaires.

The chariot turned to face him, and he began jogging back towards the line. Tavius kept on firing shot after shot, though the new shield wall was strong. Another of the slaves was not so lucky, however, when one blast was strong enough to bury through his shield and into his chest.

“Ready!” Bandolier yelled, watching steadily as the chariot charged forwards. The crowd was rumbling again, as the meager wall of five now stood surrounded by a sea of bodies.

“Now! As one!” Bandolier yelled, igniting his horn. The light that followed was so bright, that the White Worm lost all of its momentum in an instant, jerking backwards in fear. But the speed of the chariot was too great already, and as they came barreling on forwards, the shield wall lunged against the wheels, throwing the chariot off-kilter. The worm was being strangled in the harness, thrown about into the sands, while Tavius the Tyrant was tossed out of the chariot, landing so hard in the ground the crowd all winced in unison.

Shujaa moved for the White Worm, who was strung up in her own ropes, squealing and still blinded. Shujaa tore off his helmet and dashed it against the white worm’s skull, cracking it open like an egg.

Bandolier made for Tavius, joined by Amalza, Krieger, and Cloudy.

Tavius rose from the ground to the cheers of the crowd, and Bandolier could finally get a proper look at him. The unicorn stallion stood a whole head taller than Krieger, who was a brute himself. He had huge iron shoulder armor, and straps of leather wrapped in an x-formation around his chest. He wore a great helm of solid steel, where his monstrous, twisted horn protruded.

Amalza shrieked as she ran towards the Tyrant, with Cloudy reluctantly tagging along behind her. The Tyrant's horn glowed, and both Amalza and Cloudy lost their footing in the sand, spinning onto their backs so hard that all the wind escaped their lungs. Krieger came next, quick for his size, dragging his wounded leg behind him. The Tyrant's blast came so swiftly that not even Bandolier had seen it, when two teeth came springing out from Krieger's broken jaw. Krieger fell to his knees in the sand, toppling over in agony.

Bandolier caught his breath and wiped his snout, before charging past the others with his horn ablaze, laughing as he ran, wondering if it could have ever occurred to him that this was how he would meet his end. The smile on his face sent the crowd into an uproar - some were amused, some were insulted, most were too stunned to think.

Bandolier did not see the Tyrant's strike, before he was blinded and knocked off his hooves. His helmet had been torn off his head, and he fell into the dirt flat on his back.

Tavius raised his hooves into the air, celebrating as if he had already won. The crowds seemed to think as much, chanting his name and rising to their hooves to join in his triumph.

But Bandolier was quick to find his hooves again, and the crowds' cheers shrunk somewhat, reduced to murmurs.

“Equestrian!” Tavius bellowed. Part of him seemed relieved, as if he had not wanted the fight to have ended so soon. Bandolier's snout was crushed and leaking blood. At least I've got all my teeth. That was more than Krieger could say.

Tavius ignited his horn, spraying a wave of molten fire towards Bandolier, who dodged the incoming inferno and cast his own spell to repel the following blunt strike that would have sliced his neck open.

Tavius laughed, relentless, as his next beam of magic shot across the sky towards Bandolier’s skull. Bandolier ducked down to his knees, as the creatures in the crowds gasped and jeered and leaned over the railing, having first believed Tavius to have made his mark.

Bandolier emerged from the smoke to charge the Tyrant, who did not expect Bandolier to have recovered so quickly. Bandolier, with a mailed hoof, swung so hard against the Tyrant's cheek that there came an audible pop, and with it came his chance to reach up and grab the Tyrant by his horn. Tavius growled and struggled against Bandolier, who, though smaller, was able to keep himself steady on the ground as he fought against Tavius’ weight. They struggled there, locked with one another as they wrestled hoof-to-hoof, all while the crowds were thundering in approval.

Tavius found the upper hoof, however, leveraging all his weight to break free of Bandolier’s grip. Tavius slammed his own skull into Bandolier’s, knocking him back into the dust.

After shaking his head back and forth like a mangy dog, Tavius volleyed a beam of magic straight for Bandolier’s chest, but Bandolier caught the impact with a spell of his own, casting a wide, flat, purple shield to absorb the ensuing burst of fire. Bandolier dragged the blast away from him, incinerating a patch of the sand and nearly searing off Cloudy's tail on the ground, before providing his response, a quick concussive blast to knock Tavius a few feet back away from him. Bandolier gasped for breath and cast a wave of magic to put more distance between them.

Tavius laughed as he adjusted his hooves, and the two began to walk in circles around each other, as the crowd grew louder and louder. Bandolier’s face was twisted with rage. Tavius licked at the blood on his lips, and he readied his next spell, but Bandolier had already propelled himself forward, tumbling headfirst into the ground to avoid Tavius' laser, somersaulting to arrive at the Tyrant's hooves. Once upright, Bandolier lifted his head to blast Tavius right in the face at point-blank range. Tavius' smoky laser short-circuited the moment the impact came, and the crowd exploded then, as Tavius fell on his back in a black heap. His nose was crushed and his face was all purple pulp, but he was alive and breathing. The blood and blue paint mixed to make a dark plum color, staining the sand.

Amalza, Krieger, and Cloudy had all returned to their hooves, all wounded and exhausted but alive, and victorious. They rejoined with Shujaa, who was pumping his hooves in the air, high on the thrill of battle as the crowds rejoiced with them. The arena was full with the stamping of the hooves and the celebratory screams of all those many creatures, and the name Equestrian was at the tips of ten thousand tongues.

Bandolier stood over his defeated foe, and he ignited his horn again, but before he cast any spell he looked to the Conqueror above. She had been staring down at him for some time now, he realized. He locked eyes with her for a few heartbeats, and all the pain in his head and chest and legs was quickly forgotten. Her eyes were all that mattered.

Then her horn began to glow, a fiery shade of red, and the crowd erupted once again.

“Red means dead,” Tavius croaked from the ground, “She’s spoken. End it, Equestrian.”

Bandolier glanced down at Tavius, and back up to the Conqueror. With shaky breath, he wiped the sweat out of his eyes.

He stepped back, and glanced back up at the Conqueror, with a heavy glare that seemed to make all of the nobles surrounding her especially uneasy.

“It’s over,” Bandolier said, glancing at a dumbstruck Tavius at his hooves.

Tavius himself seemed enraged at having been spared, but before he could rise to challenge Bandolier again, he fell to the ground, exhausted and blinded with blood.

In the crowd, the same creatures who had been cheering for him just moments ago suddenly turned to murmurs, confused and terrified. Creatures were arguing, cheering, taunting, and all up on their hooves, all nervously eyeing the Conqueror up on her palanquin.

Bandolier could not make out the look on the Conqueror’s face, for she was still too high up. But he did see her whisper something to one of her guards beside her, before several of her guards began fleeing the royal pavilion and rushing down some other corridor.

Bandolier backed away, back towards Shujaa and Amalza and Krieger and Cloudy, who stuck by him, albeit begrudgingly.

“If you were so eager to die, why fight at all?” Krieger grunted, gently rubbing his aching jaw.

"You cannot do what you have done," Shujaa urged. Amalza seemed too terrified to speak.

"Some plan, that," Cloudy grumbled, "She's sure to like you, now."

"I don't need her to like me, yet," Bandolier corrected, "I need her to see me."

A low rumbling came then, and from the surrounding gates, praetorians flooded the arena in orderly rows, filing out of the gates fixed along the edges of the pit. All of them were armed with spears or glowing horns. The crowd began stirring once more.

The praetorians quickly encircled them in the pit, and one, the golden-coated legionnaire, stepped forward alone to approach them. Bandolier knew his face, but he was too exhausted to recall, yet.

“Lay down your weapons,” the legionnaire commanded.

“If the Conqueror wants blood, let her have mine, not theirs,” Bandolier said.

“Lay down your weapons,” the legionnaire commanded.

Amalza obeyed, hesitantly, as did Krieger and Shujaa.

“You’re all coming with me,” he said, “...The Conqueror wishes to meet you.”

Author's Note

Happy Thanksgiving! Part 2 will be out next Thursday!
Thank you so much for reading!

11: The Princess Bride Pt. 2

There was thunder above and below, as the trudging of heavy hooves in the mud and snow mimicked each roar of the tempest circling overhead.

This time they’ll trample me for sure.

Juno fixed her helmet, which was too large for her head, as yet another patrol unit of twenty shivering soldiers came storming through the muddy crossing, stepping over the trembling ropes that held the scattered mess of tents in place. She had seen a few tents fly away in the wind already, and if the weather kept as it was, she wondered how much of the camp would be left standing by dawn.

Part of her was relieved to have to stop and wait for the soldiers to march on by, she had hardly gotten a chance to catch her breath in what felt like hours.

She had just finished her fourth trip to the baggage train, an endless cycle of retrieving buckets of oil and bundles of spears to bring back to the armory. For all those days of marching, their enemy had always seemed impossibly far, a distant tomorrow. But that tomorrow had come, and for the squires and pages and storerunners like Juno, there was not a second to waste, as the sleepless camp came undone in the storm.

Juno was glad Snowfall had decided to go north. If we win, we’ll go to the capital. That seemed as good a place as any for Sunset Shimmer to be hiding. And Flurry Heart was there, too. She imagined the look on Cadance’s face if they were ever to be reunited, and the thought gave her courage. My family’s destroyed. But hers doesn’t have to be.

She hoped Snowfall wouldn’t be angry at her, once she found her chance to slip away. As much as Juno wanted to trust her, she couldn't trust anypony but herself anymore. Her father had always told her that soldiers lived by a code of honor and bravery. But the Surgeon’s ponies were soldiers, and they had no honor, and they weren’t brave, only cruel.

She had spent weeks marching with Snowfall, and not once had she gotten to reunite with Tails and Poundcake, who were busy training with the other recruits. I’d make a better soldier than either of them. She had told Snowfall as much, but Snowfall only smiled and patted her head. She would have to prove herself, Juno thought, and so she worked tirelessly day and night to earn her keep, running errands all over the camp without a moment’s rest. Her world was work now, and she found some unlikely respite in the daily droll, some strange feeling of freedom from having to think or worry or fear.

After a few days, she could not fathom anything disrupting her concentration. But this night, that was going to change. On her fifth trip for the night, she nearly slipped in the muddy stream by the lancers’ carriage, when she caught sight of a group of ponies loitering by a water well. She practically dove to the ground to hide behind a barrel, before peeking back out to make sure her eyes had not deceived her. One of those soldiers was one she recognized, one she thought she would only ever see again in her memories.

Captain Coda, her former captor, stuck out among Snowfall’s soldiers armored in white and gold, in his dull, muddy, moss-green attire. He was as good of a tracker as ponies had claimed back at Wisteria, she realized, how else could he have found her here? She had been confident he’d have lost her trail miles and miles ago.

He’s here for me. He wants to take me back.

She almost wanted to laugh, for how strange it felt, to have caused enough trouble to warrant her own personal pursuer. No, Juno thought, it’s not about me. Not really. It’s Cadance, Juno told herself, I know where they’re taking her, to the Ghostfort. Somepony will find Cadance and rescue her, Juno realized, and all Juno had to do was point them in the right direction.

Juno felt her heartbeat hasten, and she tried her best to calm herself down. Coda had never been cruel towards her, certainly not like the Surgeon had been. But he frightened her nonetheless. She had been frightened of her father sometimes, but she had never seen him do anything like what Coda did. She remembered the sound of Hask’s skull cracking underneath Coda’s hoof, and the wet spray of blood on her face. She remembered the smell, the sickly sweet smell of ghastly innards, still not quite as horrid as what she could recall from Ponyville. Juno sighed and shut her eyes as tightly as she could, as if that were to make her disappear right then and there.

Hask was dead, she told herself. She had real, living problems to deal with. Still, she could not shake the feeling of his touch on her skin, a crawling sensation that kept her cold and stiff and guarded. Maybe it's just this weather, turning my blood to ice.

Coda had saved her, it was true, though he was no friend of hers, and she knew he wouldn't hesitate to throw her back in irons. He had come all this way, after all. I can't go back, she thought, the Surgeon will cut off my hooves and my tongue, and then peel the skin off me! With her heart beating out of her chest, she bolted out from behind the barrel, hurrying to find Snowfall.

Dropping her bags as she ran through the rain, she hoped that the torrent and the dark of the night were enough to hide her escape. Across the camp, she found Snowfall’s command tent. The entrance was cluttered with officers trying to stay out of the rain, and Juno had to squeeze through just to find some open space to stand. Deeper inside, dull orange candle light revealed a table covered in maps and miniatures. All the officers were so much taller than her, most of them had not even noticed she had come in.

The hippogriff prince, Terramar, saw her, and shot her a smile, as he always did. He was kind to her, and she thought he was sufficiently handsome, for a hippogriff. Her father had always described their kind as slimy-skinned and reeking of fish. But his downy coat was softer and whiter than her own, and he only somewhat smelled of fish.

Sparkshower was there too, and though she usually made an effort to bang on Juno’s helmet and ask her about her day, today she hardly acknowledged her. She was anxious, Juno suspected. They all were. She could feel the fear in the room. These ponies were shivering and sniffling, with their shoulders hung low and their eyes cast down to the ground. Since the hippogriff fleet had won the Battle of Vanhoover, all of the Smoky Shore was under the control of the Empire. Snowfall's army was trapped in the center of the Highlands, with one army to the north and another approaching from the south.

Styles was there too. Unlike the rest of Snowfall’s subordinates, who were mostly an amicable bunch, Styles had never so much as looked in Juno’s direction. He terrified her, for all the scratches and dents and blood stains on his armor, and the arrows that stayed stuck right in the metal. She was drawn to him, still. He did not have Terramar’s boyish good looks, but he had flashing purple eyes and a smile that cut like a knife. He was hard and strong, but quick as well, and today he was the only one who seemed unafraid. They were all wet, cold, and exhausted.

Even Snowfall, whose coat was white as snow, seemed paler than usual. Juno knew better than most, as the commander’s cupbearer, that Snowfall had gotten less than a few hours of sleep these past nights.

“It’s been days of marching, with half rations and non-stop snow and rain,” Terramar said, “If they catch us before we reach the fort, we won’t last an hour. We should turn back to Haverford and try another way.”

Styles’ face soured when the prince said “turn back,” but he did not speak. Snowfall sniffled and rubbed her eyes.

“We don’t have a choice but to fight them out here, if they’re as close as we think,” Snowfall said, “If we go back to Haverford we’d have two armies to deal with, remember.”

"And a city too," Terramar pointed out, "Haverford's walls are thick, and the city can survive a siege for a long while, Stonehoof always told me so. All we'd have to do is hold out until Princess Twilight sends relief."
"She won't send relief," Snowfall said, bluntly, "She can't, not with the dragons closing in. Canterlot cannot fall. We only stand a chance if we take on one army at a time. If we go back to Haverford, we'll be trapped."

Several of the officers began grumbling, a few in support of Terramar, a few for Snowfall.

“The scouts think Shining’s positioning himself here,” Styles said, pointing at a spot on the map, “North of the Silent River in the Wolfswood. If our plan works, they’ll think we’re pushing most of our strength to the east side. Me and the van can take them where they’re weakest, here in the west, and Snowfall will take the reserves to swing down across the river, closing them in against us.”

“You don’t have enough ponies left to lead the van,” Snowfall said, bluntly. Styles seemed irritated then; the wounds of his last defeat were still fresh. Juno recalled what had happened to the last pony who brought up his failure at Starhaven, that poor corporal with the now-broken nose.

“No. Which is why I’ll need help,” Styles said. He glanced down at Terramar, who turned pale.

“....The front line?” Terramar repeated, horrified, “Why me?”

“I’m going to need your hippogriffs,” Styles said, “They fly and swim and fight well. They’ll fight even better with you leading the charge.”

Juno winced. He’d just rather see dead hippogriffs instead of dead ponies. Snowfall seemed to know this, but said nothing. She thinks we’re all going to die. Who dies when won’t matter.

“Be quick with the horn so I know when to fall in,” Snowfall said, “And do not attack unless you’re sure they don’t know we’re coming. If you get caught in a trap everything will fall apart. Understand?”

Styles nodded, and the two locked eyes for a moment before Snowfall composed herself and glanced back at the map.

“We’ll meet here again tomorrow morning,” Snowfall said, “Now get some rest. All of you.”

Juno stuck to the corners of the tent as the officers began shuffling out, dragging their hooves as they went.

Only then did Snowfall finally notice Juno, after almost everypony had left the tent. Styles remained, but gave them their distance, lingering by the map table.

Snowfall knelt down beside Juno, with an uneasy smile on her face. She adjusted Juno’s helmet for her.

“You’ve kept yourself busy,” Snowfall guessed, eyeing Juno up and down.

“I didn’t finish, but I wanted to see if you needed anything,” Juno replied.

“I need you to go to bed, it’s late."

“Commander, can’t you talk things out with these guys instead of fighting?” Juno asked. If they made a truce, she’d have a much easier time crossing enemy lines to get to the Crystal City.

Snowfall smiled, and shut her eyes for a moment.

“If it were up to me, we would,” she said, though for a moment she seemed to falter, as if the temptation of treachery was getting the better of her, “...I want you to be safe while I’m gone. Help where you can. And be ready to drop everything and run, and quickly. Understand?”

“Yes,” Juno nodded her head.

“...If something should happen,” Snowfall said, “You’re to make for Baltimare, OK? Join the nearest caravan. Promise me you’ll do it, Juno.”

Juno hesitated. She did not like having to lie.

“I promise,” Juno said. Snowfall seemed to see right through her, but was too weary to argue. Snowfall hugged her, and Juno almost wanted to confess everything about her plan to find Sunset Shimmer, or beg Snowfall not to go, but she could not speak.

“Go on,” Snowfall said, releasing Juno and standing up.

Juno obeyed and made to exit the tent, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Styles get up from his seat to approach Snowfall.

Outside in the camp, Juno caught her breath, and glanced around to see if Coda was anywhere near. Once Snowfall leaves he’ll come for me. I have to get out. I have to get out now.

“Juno!”

From a passing column of soldiers, a young stallion sprang out of formation. Juno’s heart almost gave out, when she first thought it was Coda come to snatch her up and drag her back to the Surgeon’s castle. But it was not Coda, no, but another pony she knew. Tails! And behind him came Poundcake. In his chainmail shirt with a sword at his hip, Tails looked almost a stallion grown, and dangerous. Poundcake looked like Poundcake.

Tails gave Juno a polite hug, while Poundcake was more sheepish, waiting for Juno herself to wrap her forelegs around him.

“Where’ve you two been? You’re really going to fight?” she stammered, horrified, eyeing them both.

“They said we’ve got no choice,” Tails said.

“Since they think we’re spies, and all,” Poundcake added, “Never should’ve gone north, I knew it, didn’t I say? I know I said so, didn’t I? Ah…”

“I’m sorry, I-I didn’t….You don’t have to go. Listen, Coda's here somewhere," Juno said. Tails and Poundcake shared an uneasy look. "I’m leaving here, tomorrow, and you two should come with me. You don't have to go fight!"

Tails smiled, and stuck a hoof on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry about us. We’ll come back. Tell her, Pound,” Tails said.

“We’ll come back, alright. In pieces!”

“Poundcake,” Tails hissed. Juno adjusted her helmet.

“I didn’t come all the way up here with you two just to watch you get yourselves killed in this stupid war,” Juno said.

“You got us out of that hell back in Wisteria,” Tails said, his smile fading, “You don’t owe us a thing, Juno. There was no point in running. There’s nowhere to run, anyhow.”

“GET BACK IN LINE YOU TWO!” barked a sergeant from the column Tails and Poundcake had abandoned. Poundcake picked up his spear. Tails smiled again and drew his hoof back from Juno’s shoulder.

“But I know you’ll keep trying anyway,” Tails grinned.

He returned with Poundcake to the line.

Juno shivered in the cold, glancing over towards the woods, alone again.

Time escaped him, the longer his eyes lingered on Shining Armor’s seat. Broadwing imagined himself there, with a crown on his head, with Windchill and his mother and Orion and Bellflower all beside him.

He blinked a few times to rouse himself from his daydream, as his mind returned to the present, and the voices of twenty overlapping arguments attacked him from all sides.

The rebel army left Starhaven without much time to celebrate their victory; they had the royals on the run, as far as Broadwing could tell, and so they had not a moment to spare in scouring every inch of the Highlands in pursuit.

They had come upon the Wolfswood only yesterday, a vast wintery wood bound to the north by the Crystal Mountains and stretching all the way down to Haverford, which had been captured by the royals just last week. Through the woods ran the Silent River, which was two-mile wide and distinct for its quiet current.

Broadwing had hoped to confront the royals closer to Haverford, so that Hardball’s army in the south could join them in the battle, but Snowfall had anticipated this, and according to the newest reports, her current objective seemed to be the taking of Hellebore’s Fort.

Tempers were flaring over what course to take next. The reindeer had sworn a blood oath to kill Styles to avenge their fallen prince, however the Selvite Prince Vitreum had already claimed Styles for himself, and so now the two kingdoms were at each other’s throats. A yak had insulted a changeling by mistake, and so they too could hardly get along. Now that the rebel leaders all knew how close they were to the enemy, the thrill of battle was upon them as well.

“Rutger will lead charge!” barked the yak prince, Rutger.

“They have the high ground on their side of the bank, if we try to charge they’ll pick us off and dam the river with our dead,” grunted Vitreum.

“They have to cross at some point if they want to reach the fort,” said Esther, one of Broadwing’s lieutenants.

“Forget about the fort,” Shining said, “Once they know we’re close, they’ll focus on us and only us.”

“OK, so then we cross first,” said Flash Sentry, one of Shining’s subordinates.

“And then Rutger lead charge!” boomed Rutger.

“That’s what Snowfall wants,” Shining said, “I won’t have us walk right into her trap. She’ll want us to rush the bank, it’s her only advantage and she knows it.”

“So if she won’t cross, and we can’t cross, what do we do?” asked Windchill.

“Snowfall won’t,” Broadwing said, as all eyes drifted over towards him, “But Styles might.”

The rebels began murmuring at the mentioning of Styles’ name.

“He’ll be with the vanguard, he always is. I’ll take my company and bait him into crossing the river. Once he’s deep enough in the woods we’ll descend on them from all sides. The brunt of their forces will be with Snowfall, and they’ll be forced to follow. They’ll spread out, partly into the woods and partly along the river. The river assault should be yours, my prince.”

“...What makes you so certain Styles will break formation?” Shining challenged.

“Because we’ve beaten him before and the sight of me alive will have his blood boiling,” Broadwing said.

Shining grunted, as he rubbed at his eyelids, pensively. Others at the table began murmuring, supposing Broadwing’s idea was the best they had.

“We can’t commit too many to the inner woods, or our main force will be unprotected,” Shining said.

“I’ll need my company at least, and the reindeer too, maybe. Prince Ivan will be glad to have a chance at Styles, and avenge his son,” Broadwing offered.

Prince Ivan nodded, scowling as his eyes narrowed.

“I’ll go with the boy too,” added Vitreum, “Styles’ head is mine.”

Before an argument could erupt, Broadwing raised his hoof, sternly, as though he were the imperial prince himself.

“You’ll both have your chance. What matters is that he’s dead,” Broadwing said.

“I’ll come too,” came Blackburn. Broadwing nodded his head. Blackburn was the closest pony to family he had at his side anymore, his father’s old childhood friend and distant cousin.

“Everyone else will be with you, my prince,” Broadwing said, “We’ll join back with you as quickly as we can.”

Shining sighed and nodded, anxiously.

“If this doesn’t work, we’ll be stretched thin. We’ll be vulnerable,” Shining said.

“It’s the only way,” Broadwing said.

Shining relented, rising to his hooves.

“All of you, get everything in order that you need,” Shining said, resting his hoof on his silver helmet, “Rest tonight. Tomorrow, the North will be free.”

If the cold was what made him tremble, or the fear, he could not say.

Prince Terramar flinched when the branch snapped under his claw. His armor was slick with frozen dew, and he could see his own breath in front of him, shaky and pale.

A small army marched behind him, half of whom were his own hippogriff comrades, those brave few who had joined him in his defiance of the changeling king, who had abducted his sister. He could hardly sleep at night anymore, not while his thoughts revolved around Silver and only Silver. Does she know I'm out here?

He was fighting to rescue her, he reminded himself with each uneven step in the snow. The Wolfswood was quiet like a tomb, save for the soft susurrus of hooves trudging through mud, snow, and long-dead leaves.

Terramar remained at Styles’ side like a child with his father, glancing over his shoulder every other minute.

Styles had changed since Terramar had first joined the campaign, back at the Galloping Gorge. His smirk came just as often, but there was something different; it was insincere, fragile, false. There was a weariness in the commander’s eyes, as well. He had survived twice when he should not have, and a betting pony would not grant him favor to do it a third time in a battle such as this. Terramar shuddered as another chill turned his bones brittle. He had fought twice now, but never in the vanguard, and never against so many. He wanted nothing more than to prove himself, to prevail, but if even Styles could be anxious, how couldn’t he?

Styles had never removed the arrows lodged in his armor, which now numbered four in all. “These should’ve killed me, but they didn’t. So they must be lucky,” was his reasoning. Terramar never dared ask how much it had hurt. He did not want to know.

Styles had taken Terramar alone with him to scout out ahead, when they first heard the soft current of the Silent River in the distance. “They’ll want to draw us straight across,” Snowfall had told them at the final briefing, “Search for a point of attack at the sides, but do not engage.”

Terramar’s claws dangled over the hilt of his sword, buried in his scabbard. He thought of his mother then, about whether she knew where he was and what peril he faced. When I return to you, I’ll have Silver with me. And the thought gave him comfort, and so he stuck by Styles with courage in his heart. I hope we find them. I hope we find them so I can cut my way through them, cut my way to Silver.

Styles suddenly crashed to his knees, at such a speed Terramar’s heart almost gave out, believing they were under attack.

Terramar fell down beside him, sticking his head out from behind a log to inspect over the bank, where Styles’ gaze was fixed.

Only then did he hear the voices, and Terramar realized that there were ponies right below on the other side of the bank, so close to the edge that neither of the pair could have seen them from afar.

Styles glanced at Terramar, and almost had to laugh, for how close they had come to being spotted.

Styles listened carefully to the voices from over the bank. He glanced at Terramar, and blinked, then blinked again, and then a third time, all too quickly for it to have been meaningless. Terramar paused for a moment, before he understood. He thinks there’s just three of them. Terramar listened again, and he nodded his head in agreement.

Styles glanced back up past the log, before sitting down facing back away from the bank.

Then his horn ignited. For what purpose, Terramar was unsure of, until he realized the voices had all gone silent. He heard something else then, like the sound of something falling into a pile of leaves. He glanced up at Styles, slightly horrified. Styles grinned, until both of them froze when the sound of a pony running through rushing water took both of them by surprise. There was a fourth! Terramar realized, One who didn’t speak!
Styles leaped out from behind the log, and, without thinking, Terramar followed him.

From the edge of the bank, Styles again dove behind a rock large enough to hide behind, and Terramar followed after him.

There, they could see the pony running through the river back to the north side.

“He’ll tell them we’re here,” Terramar whispered.

Styles frowned and ignited his horn, though the distance was more considerable now, and the water disoriented his focus. Gritting his teeth, he charged up his horn to volley some projectile blasts, but he missed his first shot, and his second. He might have hit his third, if another blast of magic hadn’t torn through the air by his shoulder, searing his pauldron and sending him tossing back into the snow. Terramar ducked, just as a second blast broke towards him from across the river bank.

“They’ve seen us!” Terramar realized.

Styles pulled himself up to his hooves and grabbed Terramar, pulling him out of the way as another blast was just about to take his ear off.

“The horn,” Styles said.

“But Snowfall said not to engage!”

“Those were Frost Ponies shooting at us,” Styles said, “Edge of the flank, most likely. No more than a hundred. Their precious little prince might be with them.”

“We should fall back,” Terramar insisted, “Find another way across, further down. We can’t go without Snowfall!”

“We can’t wait for her,” Styles retorted, “This plan only works if we take them by surprise. Those Frost Ponies will be quick to tell their commanders, and they’ll launch their assault.”

“I think we should stick to the plan, hold a defensive position, here on the bank,” Terramar said, “Why attack at all?”

“Because we’re weak,” Styles said, “They have three times our number and aren’t starving or frozen half-to-death. We have to be bold, we have to appear strong, or else they’ll wipe us out with ease. We have the better position to hold them off, yeah, but not indefinitely. We’ll be overwhelmed. We have to strike. We have to strike now. Blow the horn.”

Affected by Styles’ confidence, Terramar blew the horn to signal the others, who were still lingering a quarter mile behind.

“You stay close to me, understand?” Styles told him, “Keep your shield up. Take as many as you can.”

Terramar nodded, as Styles bent down to adjust the boy’s helmet.

“Don’t be so afraid. I’ll be right beside you,” Styles said.

Terramar nodded as his teeth kept on chattering. The War Boys and the hippogriffs arrived, gathering there before Styles with their weapons at the ready.

“Phoenix,” Styles said. The pegasus War Girl called Phoenix stepped forward from the line, “Run back to Snowfall, tell her to swing the hammer down right here, this position. We’ll set the path for her, here, now.”

“Yes sir,” Phoenix said. She took flight at once and darted off, leaving the others to mutter amongst each other, realizing their battle was about to begin.

“All you who were with me at Starhaven, you’ll remember the faces of those who butchered our friends. I would have been killed too if you all hadn’t dragged me back. Anypony tries that again and I’ll gut him as I would a rebel. We are soldiers of Equestria. We do not flee. Who wants to live forever, anyway?” Styles said, earning some laughter from those gathered around, “We take no quarter, and we show no mercy. Expect none in return. Company! With me!”

The crowd gave a mighty cheer then, and Terramar watched Styles fix his helmet onto his head, solid bronze with that mahogany crest.

Styles glanced again at Terramar, before he turned toward the bank, sliding down the mud and snow towards the river below.

The pegasi and hippogriffs took flight to avoid the current, bolting across the river to the north bank, where they threw themselves up against the bank’s edge.

There was little movement in the woods there, and Styles wondered how much land the enemy had gained. He passed by the three ponies he had killed earlier, before he took his first steps into the ice-cold water.

Terramar did not fly with the other hippogriffs, deciding instead to suffer the icy waters along with the unicorns and earth ponies.

When Styles reached the shore, Terramar remained beside him, and they followed the fliers to the bank’s edge, where they climbed up onto the snowy ridge where the Wolfswood began again.

Styles moved quickly despite the armor he wore. Terramar’s own armor was clunky and kept catching on stray brush and sticks.

The entire company stormed the bank in pursuit of Styles, whose horn was raised. Styles was first to break over the other bank, trudging over wet, dead leaves to find traction in the snow.

He lowered his pace to a jog, as he scanned the woods ahead. Wherever the frost pony sharpshooters had positioned themselves, they had since abandoned their posts. Terramar glanced at Styles nervously. They’ve fled already. Now we have to turn back.

But Styles would not be undone; his blood was too hot and he could not even consider taking one step anywhere but forward.

“Quickly now, follow me,” Styles said, and Terramar felt as light as air then. His teeth were chattering and his bones felt brittle in the cold, but he followed after Styles all the same.

The entire company broke through the woods behind them, all with their arms at the ready. But there was no sign of the enemy, beyond the occasional scattering of hoof prints.

Then Terramar saw Styles go alert, and he saw it too - up ahead in a clearing, behind a boulder was the unmistakable glimmer of sun against steel. A helmet, Terramar realized. Styles’ horn had already ignited, and the blast of fire that followed seared through stray branches and thorn-bushes before reaching its target. The helmet disintegrated upon impact, and the sound of metal crashing into the snow gave Styles the assurance he needed that he had made his mark.

Styles approached the boulder with his horn still alight, while his soldiers followed behind. Terramar kept glancing over his shoulder, keeping his claw near his scabbard at all times.

Styles inched his way around the boulder. He might have expected a second hidden foe, or merely the charred remains of his latest victim. But he found instead a suit of empty armor, its helmet burned to a crisp.

Styles lifted his head, slowly, and Terramar’s eyes went wide. The air turned paper thin then, quiet and sharp and ice cold.

Then the horn came, that cruel crooning bellow, that shook the snow off the trees and all the courage out of Terramar’s heart.

The Frost Ponies fell upon them from all sides. From the trees came pegasi wielding spears and axes. From the creek-beds came the pikeponies and spellcasters, and from behind the boulders and moss came reindeer, their antlers sharpened and pointed.

“Together! Turn!” Styles roared, though there was no formation that could have been made then, not when the pegasi began vaulting down from the sky, throwing their spears as they flew or dragging royals up into the air, only to drop them down from terrible heights.

Terramar saw a reindeer impale one of his hippogriffs, Rough Waters was his name, right through the chest, swinging him back and forth until he died. Terramar saw a War Boy catch fire by a unicorn’s spell; he ran to douse himself in the river, but he could not find where it was.

He was surrounded by screaming, such an ear-splitting cacophony that he wanted nothing more than to fly away. A pony collapsed from the air right in front of him, landing on his neck.

Many of the hippogriffs and royal pegasi soldiers had taken flight again to do battle with the rebels mid-air, and whenever one would fall they tended to land on somepony else, so packed was the battle below.

Terramar fell backwards over a root when an ax-wielding maniac ran past. He would have been impaled by a rebel right then, if Styles hadn’t come to his rescue, blasting the pony through the chest. Indeed, it was Styles who most of the rebels meant to kill; eight had tried so far and none had succeeded. Styles seemed to be searching for Prince Broadwing, who was no doubt close by.

“This was a trap!” Terramar remarked, “We have to turn back!”

Styles glanced at him, catching his breath and dodging a stray arrow.

“Don’t run,” Styles commanded, “Stay by me.”

Terramar would have argued, but a rebel was already upon him. The knight came thundering down on him, swinging a spiked ball of a morningstar around his head. Terramar raised his shield, but partially too late; his left foreleg knee exploded with pain as the spikes punched through his armor around the joint. His own sword was gone, as fast as that. He clawed for it in the dirt, but the morningstar was circling again, soaring down towards his face. Terramar rolled onto his side and tried to find his footing, but pain shuddered through him and the world went black for a moment. Terramar fought to his knees as he heard the knight laughing. He fumbled for a weapon, a sword, a knife, anything. Terramar stared up at the knight, whose spiked ball swung lazily, as if he were toying with him. Terramar’s claws were numb, his vision blurred, his scabbard empty. Terramar gave a hideous scream then, as he looked at this pony and chose to see the twisted face of King Pharynx instead, King Pharynx, who had stolen his sister and brought his family to ruin. He ran towards the knight and tackled him to the ground, at such ferocious speed that the knight could not defend himself in time. The next Terramar knew, his visor was packed with mud and something was crushing his claw. He scraped the mud off his helm so he could see again. The knight had fallen over a rock jutting out from the snow, shattering part of his spine. The knight would not walk, that was plain, and he stared up at Terramar in shock and horror. “Yield,” Terramar said, fumbling at the ground for a sword.

“I yield,” the knight replied.

Dazed, Terramar lifted his blade and rose to his hooves and claws, leaving the knight there. Pain hammered through his knee when he moved his leg. The battle seemed to have moved beyond him. No one remained in this part of the woods save a large number of corpses. Crows were already circling overhead to feed. He saw where the battle had moved, not far from here. And then another horn came, rattling his heart inside his muddied armor. Terramar leaned on a tree, exhausted. Had more of these rebels come to finish them off? Where was Styles? He had to find him. He had to help him.

But it was not the rebel horn, he realized, it was that of Snowfall Glitter, from there across the river bank. They had come! They had come to save them! Terramar laughed aloud at the sound, and he found his strength again. He saw the royals struggling on the slopes of the bank. He took a breath and ran out to meet them, still grinning. He did not even feel the cold anymore.

He did not feel the prick in his neck, either. The most painful part only lasted a second, and then a strange feeling came through his mind, only so briefly, before the thought left him. There was blood in his mouth, and some awful soreness in his neck. He hardly realized he had fallen to his knees. In the cold air the wound was smoking. “Silver,” he whispered. Pain washed over him. When the second bolt took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the third arrow. Only the cold.

Dead limbs hung from dead trees, near where Broadwing leaned upon his sword and wiped the blood from his face. The drums were so near that the beat crept under his skin and set his hooves to twitching. Esther ignited her horn. Suddenly the enemy was there before them, boiling over the river ridge, advancing with measured speed behind a wall of shields and pikes.

Luna be damned, look at them all, Broadwing thought, though he knew Shining had more ponies out past the field. A warhorn blew. The rebel trumpets answered, brazen and defiant, though it seemed in comparison to be smaller, more anxious. Broadwing could feel a fluttering in his gut, and he dreaded to die sick.

As the horns faded, a hissing filled the air; flights of arrows arched up from his right, where the rebel archers stood flanking the river. The royals broke out into a run as they fell deep upon the forest, shouting as they came, but the rebel arrows fell on them like a hailstorm, hundreds of arrows, what felt like thousands, and shouts turned to screams as ponies stumbled and fell. By then a second flight was in the air, and the archers were knocking their thirds to their bowstrings.

The trumpets blared again. Ivan the Elder waved his antlers in the air and bellowed a command, and a thousand other voices screamed back at him. Blackburn was beside him, his horn glowing black. Broadwing spread his wings, and turned back to those in the company who had prevailed against the War Boys. “The river!” the prince roared, “Hew to the river!”

Windchill was at his side, and Mulberry and Esther and a hundred more, collecting what supplies they could carry and leaping over the frozen creek beds to make for the north bank of the Silent River.

And at that steep decline, where the dirt ridge broke into a steep drop to the riverbank, a crescent of enemy spearponies had climbed up from the waters below, a great beast bristling with steel, orderly behind tall oaken shields marked with pairs of angel’s wings or half-suns. Blackburn was the first to reach them, leading a wedge of armored veterans, among them the vengeful reindeer prince. Broadwing watched thirty or forty die then, sharp steel points ribbing and ripping through their chests. Blackburn himself had to rear at the last moment, lashing out with his iron-shod hooves as a barbed spearhead raked across his neck. Maddened, Prince Ivan lunged into the ranks, crashing his antlers aside to clear his path. Spears thrust at him from every side, but the shield wall broke beneath his weight. The royals stumbled away from the reindeer prince’s death throes, and as he fell, snorting blood and biting with his last red breath, Blackburn rose nearby, his horn glowing sable black.

Windchill went bursting past Blackburn through the gap before the shields could close, and the rest of Broadwing’s company came hard behind her. “After me! After me!” Broadwing yelled, though most of them were ahead of him by then. He glimpsed Brazier get back up after stumbling, saw a spellcaster impaled on a royal spear, watched Red Rivet shatter a pony’s ribs with a kick. A flight of arrows descended on them; where they came from Broadwing could not say, but they fell on royal and rebel alike, rattling off armor and finding flesh. Broadwing raised his shield over his head and hid beneath it.

The royal shield wall was crumbling, as they reeled back under the impact of the assault. Broadwing saw the yak prince, Rutger, catch a spearpony full in the chest as the fool came on at a run, saw his ax shear through mail and leather and muscle and lungs. The pony was dead on his hooves, the ax lodged in his chest, yet Rutger ran on, cleaving a shield in two with his second ax while the corpse was bouncing and stumbling bonelessly along on his right. Finally the dead pony slid off. Rutger waved his axe in the air with his hoof and roared.

By then the enemy was on him, and Broadwing’s battle shrunk to the few feet of ground he had to him. A pony-at-arms thrust at his chest and his axe lashed out, knocking the spear aside. The pony danced back for another try, but Broadwing flew up and pummeled him with a crash landing, riding right over him. Windchill was nearby, surrounded by three foes, but she lopped the head off the first spear that came at her, and drew her blade across a second pony’s face on her backslash.

A thrown spear came hurtling towards Broadwing from the left, and lodged into a tree with a woody thunk. He wheeled and raced after the thrower, but the pony raised his own shield over his head. Broadwing circled around him, raining sword-blows down on the wood. Chips of oak went flying, until the royal soldier lost his hooves and slipped, falling flat on his back with his shield on top of him. “I yield!” the soldier cried. But the words were lost on Broadwing, who was driven with wrath, and he stuck his sword into the soldier’s neck while the soldier lay disoriented, and left him there to bleed out.

“For Twilight!” he heard ponies shout, “For Canterlot!”

“Cadance!” roared some other ponies, “Shining! Cadance! The Empire!”

Broadwing stumbled down the muddy bank, now runny with blood, and saw the rest of Snowfall Glitter’s auxiliaries rush through the icy waters. The river was a frenzy of foam, where the soldiers met each other waist-deep, swinging swords into the splashing waters.

Shining Armor’s forces must have arrived from the north, as he saw the changeling drones and imperial infantry barrel down the bank, roaring and ripping through the quiet current to catch the royals mid-crossing.

And from a ways away downstream, Broadwing had to wipe blood out of his eyes to confirm what he saw - that old mahogany crest was unmistakable, as was the bronze set of armor the pony wore, with two sets of warm-brown leather faulds and vambraces of thick brown leather. And the arrows he wore now, lodged right in the steel, which was scratched and dented and drenched.

“Styles!” Broadwing roared, breathlessly. The gruesome scene at the Galloping Gorge was all he could think of then, and he needed nothing more than revenge.

But Broadwing did not find Styles first; Shining Armor had, clad in his shimmering dark-silver armor, his horn alight. Broadwing saw the glow of the prince’s horn reflected in the water, where the two met, there in the icy shallows of the river.

Both stallions were grizzled, bloodied, bruised and out of breath when they found each other, and far too exhausted for anything in the way of grandiose speeches. Styles could only smirk, as smirking came so naturally to him, and Shining Armor merely brightened his horn and wiped his mouth. He would not enjoy this, Shining knew, but he would not balk.

The first flash of purple light blinded all unfortunate enough to gaze upon it, and the crack of thunder that followed let all the Wolfswood know that Styles had not yet been slain, as countless ponies had been claiming. The purple fire was a beacon of renewal, and the royals discovered a new kind of vigor, rallying behind their captains to reform their shield walls and hedgehogs and columns near the bank, while the royals replenished themselves with more reserves from beyond the woods. There was no sign of Snowfall herself, though.

So rose and purple clashed, and each exchanged such mighty blows that they pierced through the shields at their sides and tore their helms; Shining’s aura lanced with sharp precision and burst on impact into crystalline shards, while Styles’ magic favored the tufts and wisps of otherworldly fire, that dissolved, corrupted and destroyed all it touched. Their helmets were dented and bent, and links of mail flew from their hauberks amid much loss of blood. Strips of leather and metal were incinerated or set alight. But it was Styles who landed the most devastating blow, and with it Shining’s helmet was smashed, and he was left stunned and weakened, stumbling and faltering and blind for the blood draining down over his eyes.

It was then that Broadwing knew the Crystal Prince was surely going to die, when Styles, whose face was black with mud and who wore a set of arrows still lodged in his armor near his neck and thighs, ignited his horn. He smirked when he faced his adversary, but his eyes betrayed him; Broadwing did not see contempt there, but regret, and for a moment he even thought Styles would show mercy. But Broadwing himself could not risk as much, and so he fought twice, three times as hard to shove his way through the crowd. He swung his blade so hard and so fast that the soldier in his way did not even see the blade before it tore into the mail around his neck. It was his own pony, some Frost Pony squire, Broadwing realized, but too late, and he continued on towards Shining Armor.

And Broadwing fell upon Styles without much more delay, barreling into him hard enough to knock him down the hill into the sea of corpses, where the survivors made their tired swings and thrusts. Styles grunted as he fell, landing hard down a slope of slick rock. Broadwing’s sword had slashed against Styles’ collarbone, and he knew so by the fresh blood left on the sword. But Broadwing did not chase Styles into the crowds, instead he fell beside Shining, who was his friend, bleeding and lying there in the frozen mud.

Broadwing pulled away the helm that had been crushed, and he saw the result of Styles’ strike. Shining’s snout had been battered by the metal, and his whole face was inflamed and slick with blood. But the prince was breathing, steadily enough, and Broadwing felt like weeping there at his side, cradling the prince as if he was his own brother, and right then he thought he might as well have been.

His world was only the shocks, and the splintering spear, the hard-mail hewn, shield-breakings, and the clash of brands, the crash of battle-axes on shattered helms, and shrieks after Celestia, after Cadance, after Twilight Sparkle, and shouts, oaths, insults, filth, and monstrous blasphemies, writhings, anguish, laboring lungs, and crying for the light, groans of the dying, and voices of the dead.

The Silent River was silent no more, for all those cries of anguish and agony, and the taunts of the crows that had begun circling overhead, perching on the frozen tree limbs of the grey winter wood.

Broadwing had held Shining Armor there in the waters for what felt like years, before all that surrounded him were his own troops. He had watched them carry the prince off to be treated, and after, the rebels pursued the fleeting remnants of the royal host back into the southern stretch of the woods, from where they had emerged. He did not know what had become of Styles, whose failure to kill either prince cost the royals much of their courage.

Windchill had found him there, still kneeling in the river, when most of the fighting forces had already taken off for the woods. She had no strength to speak, but she hugged him, and they found some warmth together, both soaked and half-submerged in the frozen water.

Together they went searching for more of their company, and many they found among the dead, who were as numerous in the Wolfswood as the fallen leaves. Brazier lay in a pool of congealing blood, his foreleg gone at the knee, a dozen enemies sprawled around him. Mulberry was slumped beneath a tree, riddled with arrows, with Saltwater Taffy’s head in his lap. Broadwing thought they were both dead, but as he strode past, Mulberry’s eyes opened and he said, “They’ve killed Taffy.” Poor Taffy had no mark but for the red stain over his chest, where the spear thrust had killed him. When Windchill pulled Mulberry to his hooves, only then did he seem to notice the arrows. He plucked them out one by one, yowling like an infant at the few that had buried themselves deep. Esther strode up as they were helping yank arrows out of Mulberry. Aleheart and Ferris they discovered looting the bodies of the slain. Of the three hundred Frost Ponies he had come here with, perhaps half had survived.

Broadwing and his companions found Shining Armor near the edge of the wood, where an impromptu medical encampment had been set up. Broadwing would have heard the screams of the dying, if not for the thunderous cheers of all hale rebels present, numbering in the hundreds; more there were still pursuing the withered enemy, but here stood enough to savor this triumph, and hail the pony who had saved the prince’s life.

Broadwing knelt before his prince, who lay abed surrounded by doctors and servants. Shining Armor was awake, wincing with each thread of the doctor’s needle. His face was bloody pulp, but his eyes were open, albeit strained and sore.

“It’s me who should be kneeling,” Shining smiled, weakly, “The days is ours, and my life, yours. Nopony could know a better friend, Broadwing.”

“I only did my duty, my prince,” Broadwing said, at a loss for words.

“Snowfall's making her last stand deeper in the wood. She won’t last long. You should go there, make sure she’s taken alive. Styles as well,” Shining said.

“...Alive, my prince?”

“We treat our prisoners with respect,” Shining said, “Even ponies like him.”

“As you wish,” Broadwing said.

“Once I can move, I’ll be returning to the Crystal City,” Shining decided, “I need to see my daughter one last time before we march on Canterlot. I need time to heal, as well, unless you’d like to depose my sister without me.”

“Take as long as you need,” Broadwing said.

“You’re in command now,” Shining said, “It was your decision that won us the victory today, and your actions that saved my life. There is none worthier.”

Broadwing was speechless, struggling to contain himself. He was practically shaking, and not just for the cold.

“You honor me, my prince,” Broadwing said, “And what of the prisoners?”

“Send Styles back with me,” Shining said, “There is no prison that can hold him long, it’s said, but the Crystal dungeons might. If he’s left with you he’ll cause you nothing but trouble.”

“I’m well rid of him,” Broadwing said, “And Snowfall?”

Shining paused to consider.

“Keep her at your side, as proof of our victory. Rally the rest of the Highlands, and find what allies you can. Equestria’s eyes were on us today, and when they see her in chains they may find the hope they had lost. We won a great victory here today, but Canterlot is something else entirely. Nopony has ever successfully taken the city and held it for long, in all of Equestria’s history.”

“History is about to change,” Broadwing said.

Shining nodded.

“Then there's the matter of the hippogriffs,” Shining thought aloud.

“What of them?”

“We’ve just killed their prince.”

“....He’s dead?” Broadwing asked, saddened.

“Some stray arrows,” Shining said, somberly, “I fear his father may withdraw his support, once he hears of this.”

“Not while we have his daughter bound to us,” Broadwing assured.

“Until the priest says the words and she’s wed to that changeling prince,” Shining said, “We don’t really have her.”

Juno was high on the ridge, and the trees hid most of what was going on beneath her. A heartbeat, two, four, and suddenly it was if she and the others were alone in the woods. The rest melted away into the green.

Yet when she looked across the valley to the far ridge, she saw Snowfall Glitter’s lancers emerge from the darkness beneath the trees, only for a moment before they disappeared again into shadow. They were in a long line, an endless line, and as they burst from the wood there was an instant, the smallest part of a heartbeat, when all Juno saw was the moonlight on the points of their spears, as if a thousand willow-wisps were darting down the ridge, wreathed in silver fire.

Then she blinked, and they were only ponies, rushing down to kill or die.

Afterward, she could not claim she had seen the battle. Yet she could hear, and the whole river valley rang with echoes. The crack of a broken lance, the clash of swords, the cries of “Cadance” and “Twilight” and “Broadwing! Rhinefrost and Broadwing!’ When she realized there was no more to see, she closed her eyes and listened. The battle came alive around her. She heard hoofbeats, iron soles splashing in shallow water, the woody sound of swords splintering oaken shields and the scrape of steel against steel, the hiss of arrows, the thunder of drums, the terrified screams of a thousand ponies.

Little by little, the sounds dwindled and died, and a red dusk broke in the west. She set off back to the camp with those other squires who had ventured with her to watch the battle; she had been eager to put distance between her and wherever Coda might be lurking.

But with the setting sun, the ponies they found back back at the camp were not ones she recognized. Most wore silver armor that glimmered with moonlight. Some were not ponies at all, but moose and yaks and reindeer and changelings, creatures she had never seen before. They hardly paid the squires notice, as they were all too small to garner much attention. She was more afraid of running into Captain Coda, than she was of these rebels. He had to be lurking somewhere nearby, searching for her. She made sure to keep close to the rebels; as soon as they caught a glimpse of Coda they’d take care of him, she hoped.

Her and the other camp dwellers made no attempt to fight. The soldiers who had been tasked to guard the camp threw down their spears without much hesitation, the moment they saw the Frost Prince breach the Wolfswood with an army at his back.

Juno hid in the shadow of a tent to watch the parade pass through. The Frost Prince’s shield was slashed half to pieces, raw wood showing where deep gouges had been hacked into, but the prince himself seemed unhurt. Yet when he came closer, she saw that his mailed boot and the sleeve of his surcoat were black with blood.

The Frost Prince stopped in the middle of the camp, where crowds of his own soldiers began to form. Most of them had been in the midst of looting the camp; Juno had seen five rebels raid Snowfall’s command tent, returning with food and booze and warm coats to dry themselves off in.

From the crowd, Juno saw the Frost Prince and his retainers had with them a prisoner, though Juno did not recognize her until she was dragged closer.

It was Snowfall Glitter who the rebels were dragging, her hooves wrapped in black iron chains, her horn encased in a solid steel sheath fixed with absolutely no room to breathe. Juno felt her heart sink at the sight of her; the commander’s once fair snow white coat was now soiled in dirt, mud, blood, and bruises. Her mane was a tangled mess of ash of filth. There was a black and purple gash near her neck, and her left hind leg was completely broken. She could not possibly have been able to walk, which explained why the rebels had opted to drag her behind them.

Juno watched one of the rebels kick Snowfall so hard in the side that she could hear the crack all the way from where she stood. Juno wanted to run and save her somehow, but she stopped herself. Her father’s voice was pounding in her head. Be smart. For Luna’s sake. Be smart. She watched the Frost Prince reprimanded the rebel, though he hardly seemed concerned for Snowfall, who was writhing in pain in the mud.

“Traitor!” yelled a rebel.

“Whore!" added another. A hoofful of mud splashed into Snowfall’s face, though Juno quickly realized it had not been mud.

A new mob of ponies followed the prince up the slope, dirty and dented and grinning, as a crowd continued to form in the center of the camp. Between them they dragged Lieutenant Commander Styles. They threw him down in front of the prince.

“I give you the Bronze Fury,” a rebel announced, unnecessarily. The rebels gave a mocking cheer then, raising their spears and swords and laughing.

Styles raised his head to face the Frost Prince. “Your highness,” he croaked from his knees. Blood ran down one cheek from a gash across his scalp, and the red of the sun made his mane come alive with light.

Juno saw Snowfall smile from the ground, as she tried to sit herself up in the dirt. Another kick sent her falling face-first again into the mud.

“You leave her be,” Styles warned, “I can take enough for two anyway, especially if you’re the one throwing the punches. Clever boy, more clever than your oaf of a father, Celestia rest his soul. Now, how formal do you want this to be? I would offer you my sword, but I seem to have lost it.””

“...It’s not your sword I want,” the prince told him, “It’s Cadance. Where is she?”

“I’ve lost her as well, I fear.”

“A pity,” the prince said, coldly.

“Kill him, son,” urged one of the rebels, the one whose horn glowed black, “Take his head and send it back to Twilight Sparkle.”

The rebel Highlanders who were present there gave a great cry of support then; Juno had learned that it was Styles who had slain their former leader, the one called Stonehoof, some weeks ago.

“No,” the Frost Prince answered, “Shining said no more blood was to be spilled. And he’s more use alive than dead, anyway.”

“Ah, Shining. A wise pony,” Styles said, “And honorable. Maybe one day you’ll try to follow his example, Broadwing.”

“Take him away and put him in irons,” Prince Broadwing commanded, “And gag him - it’s a long trip to the Crystal Empire, after all,” Juno saw Styles’ grin drop for a moment, when he caught Snowfall’s gaze. She was left there in the mud, while Styles was dragged off by his hind legs, scraping his flesh against the gravel.

Broadwing glanced around at those gathered, and down at Snowfall.

“Thus always to tyrants,” he said, before sticking his hoof on top of Snowfall’s head, pressing her into the mud. The crowd gave a mighty cheer then. Juno felt her eyes well up with tears. I have to help her! But she was frozen in place, surrounded on all sides by these battle-lusty brutes.

“The Crystal Empire will once again stand on its own, free from the dominion of the marble throne in Canterlot,” Broadwing said, before glancing down at Snowfall, still under his heel, “Equestria is destroyed. But the Empire will prevail. The North is saved, but the real war has just begun. We are to march south, rescue Princess Cadance, and crown her as the sovereign of a free and independent North!”

The crowds roared in approval, while Juno shrunk and shriveled away. Her chance was still there, but she would have to act fast.

Juno threw off her royal armor, tossing it into one of the bonfires that had been started by the rebels. A prisoner caravan passed by her then, and she scoured the line for Tails or Poundcake, but she found neither of them. They made it out. I know they did. She had no time to search for them. Coda could be close. He could be blending in with the rebels, even. He could be any of them!

Juno kept her distance from the prisoners, but followed them as they were led to the other side of the camp. And there was where she found just the pony she had been in search of. Styles had been left on his knees, his face wrapped with a green rag to silence and blind him. He’s off to the Crystal City. And I am too. She watched him be dragged up into the back of a closed-carriage, and she broke off after him.

Climbing under the flap of the canvas covering in the back of the carriage, she found the carriage interior was nearly pitch-black. Other royal prisoners were stowed there, too, locked up in huge cages. Most of them had been knocked out cold, except for Styles, who had not heard her sneak inside. She kept herself tucked in the shadows by some dusty crates, and she grabbed at her legs to keep them from slipping out past the flaps. Nopony had seen her, she thought, otherwise she’d be getting dragged through the mud right now. She heard Styles grunt and slump over in his irons, defeated, and she considered helping him, but stayed where she was when the carriage began moving. She had never been able to imagine him in such a state.

Despite the horrors of the day, she wanted to smile to herself; she was finally on her way to the Empire. There, she would find Sunset Shimmer. There, she would have revenge.

Charcoal-colored clouds sauntered overhead, fragile enough to sometimes reveal the frozen pockets of white-light stars that lay beyond, and the heavens once hidden. Rogue flurries of snow followed after those brief glimpses of starlight, tossing and twisting in the mountain breeze.

Up on the high hill that looked down on the town of Aquila, the great manse sat, in all its warm grandeur. On its front side were huge arched windows, with frames of intricate ironwork and gold finishes. Its roofline swept up in graceful curves, crowned with turrets that brushed against the sky, clothed in copper and adorned with orange lantern light. Towering double-doors marked the entrance, made of a rich, deep mahogany, carved and lined with gold. A great balcony sat right above the doors, fixed with a swirling marble railing and iron cages of torchlight.

The great fountain that stood further on from the front steps of the entrance was surrounded by carriages and creatures of all kinds.

Behind the manse was the great gardens, where rows of white seats had been arranged to face a great white platform set up beneath a huge archway, wreathed in ivy and pink flowers. A lantern-lit path led from the back of the manse to the archway, parting the sea of chairs. At the edges of the gardens were tables for creatures to sit and dine, where servants and soldiers stood at the ready.

Wallflower Blush watched the garden flood with creatures, nervously playing with her curls. Glimpsing through a bronze-grated window on the second story, Wallflower watched as hundreds and hundreds of guests made their way into the garden, downing their drinks and finding their seats and laughing at the tops of their lungs. The black and white squares of the corridor floor were stained gold from all the torches, so bright that Wallflower feared she would easily be spotted if anypony below was merely to glance up. So she kept herself to the edge of the window, right beside the spotless suit of armor that had been put on display. Nopony would notice her, she assured herself, the party was all downstairs, after all.

Wallflower made note of a few of the guests she saw - there was Spider Silk, White Tea Rose, Hollyhock, and Glover, the mayors of Stratusburg, Capricorn, Amapola, and Aquila, respectively. Ophelia, the Lady of Starhaven, and her sister Amulette were present as well, as was Lady Primrose, mother of the Frost Prince.

As for the changeling dignitaries, there was Frenulum, one of the royal courtiers and a dear friend of the former king, and beside him was Urtica, the changelings’ royal historian. There were just about as many ponies as there were changelings, though they each kept to their own side of the aisle - changelings on the left, ponies on the right.

“Hey.”

Wallflower flinched and spun around, unwittingly brushing her tail against the suit of armor, sending it crashing to the ground with a thunderous clang.

Sunset Shimmer held her hoof to her mouth to stop herself from laughing, while Wallflower stared with wide eyes, frozen.

“Don’t do that!” Wallflower hissed, rubbing her forehead and wondering if she should even bother trying to set the suit of armor back in place.

“Not too much longer to wait. All's calm,” Sunset assured.

When the Erased had promised Suri all the resources she needed to put together some new outfits, no expense had been spared. Sunset’s gown was silk and satin, and deep pink, warm and soft like an evening sky just before the stars were to emerge. The dress was woven like the petals of a dusky rose, cutting off around her shoulders.

Wallflower had opted to wear the same billowing, lacy gown she had worn to the gala, with its satin corset and tufts of flowery silks that wrapped around her shoulders. Her wily curls had been strung up, though the more Wallflower kept playing with Suri’s work, the more it came undone.

“You’re sure nopony will come up here?” Wallflower asked, nervously. Agent Lackluster and other Erased ponies were supposed to be keeping an eye out for them, though she was not sure she could trust them.

“Positive. All the fun’s down there. Don’t start worrying until after things go to shit. Not before,” Sunset advised.

Sunset dug through Wallflower’s purse to retrieve their radio, flipping on a switch and extending the antennae using her teeth.

“Suri, you there?” Sunset whispered into it. A brief trail of static was her reply, until a click came at the other end, and a yawn.

“...I’m in the kitchen. I can’t talk long. They’re trying to make me do work,” Suri groaned from the other end. Suri had taken on the role of one of the countless servants, complete with a modest black dress and white apron. She had not been happy about the assignment, though Sunset insisted she needed somepony who could get close to the guests without having to talk to anypony.

“Work? You? They’ll find that to be an impossible task,” Sunset grinned.

“I just spent all day making that dress for you, ‘kay? I’m tired. Oh Luna be good. Somepony spilled an entire bottle of wine…I’ll be right back,” Suri said.

“Lightning, what about you?” Sunset asked.

Again, for a moment there was only static, until the click came again. Lightning had been assigned to take the place of one of the crystal soldiers, posted somewhere along the edges of the garden.

“Hey boss. All’s good down here,” Lightning reported, her voice slightly distorted from over the radio, “I hope that dress is more comfortable than this armor.”

“Trust me. It’s not,” Sunset said.

“Don’t blame me,” came Suri over the radio, “Couldn’t exactly do much with the cheap material I was given.”

“What happened to the wine spill?” Sunset asked.

“Oh. I made that up,” Suri’s voice replied.

“The dresses are great, Suri,” Wallflower said, softly.

“Easy for you to say, yours isn’t suffocating you,” Sunset growled.

“If you all keep bickering, you’re gonna get found out,” came Moon Dancer’s voice from over the radio.

“Oh, look who decided to chime in,” Lightning’s voice groaned, “Must be nice and cozy in that carriage, huh four-eyes?”

“It really is, actually,” Moon Dancer replied.

“Any sign of our competition? Or the groom?” Sunset asked.

“Nothing unusual so far,” Moon Dancer said, With the Erased’s surveillance equipment linked to her own systems in her carriage, Moon Dancer had eyes on mostly every angle of the mansion.

“Everypony just keep a cool head. The prince won’t miss his own wedding. We just gotta stay alert, and stay calm, and-” Sunset began.

“Fuck me,” Lightning’s voice said.

Sunset glanced at Wallflower, confused.

“What’s wrong?” Sunset asked.

“I….Fuck…I…” Lightning stuttered, “I see somepony. Somepony I know.”

“Who?” Sunset asked.

“....Rainbow Dash.” Lightning whispered, “That’s fucking Rainbow Dash!”

From the window, Wallflower scanned the crowds below. But nowhere did she see anypony with Rainbow’s trademark six-color mane.

“Where? I don’t see her,” Wallflower said, loud enough to be heard over the radio.

“Her mane -- she dyed her mane. But that’s her. That’s her!” Lightning said, baffled.

“Why would Rainbow Dash be here?” Sunset asked, “Are you sure?”

“Guys, I’m telling you, that’s her,” Lightning said.

“OK….Where’s she going?” Sunset asked, hesitantly.

“Uh…Uh, she’s heading your way! Inside, I mean. She’s with somepony, too,” Lightning said, “Some guy, I don’t recognize him…Should I go after them?”

“No,” Sunset said, “Stay where you are. I’ll go check it out.”

Sunset switched off the radio and glanced at Wallflower.

“Be careful,” Wallflower warned.

“Back at ya,” Sunset smiled, before speeding off towards the stairwell at the end of the corridor. Wallflower began playing with her mane again, anxiously, and glanced back out the window. More and more guests were arriving, soldiers too.

In the crowds, a flash of green caught her gaze, and she navigated from head to head to find whose eyes it belonged to. Her heart was beating out of her chest. Those eyes. I know those eyes. She found the pony again after another scan. The armor the pony wore was not gold like how she remembered it, but black now, only a few shades darker than the standard crystal soldier’s armor. Her plume was pinkish-red, her coat dark velvet, but it was her eyes that Wallflower recognized best of all - sharp, cold, glassy like a serpent’s. Redshift. Wallflower had hoped the town’s firewall spell would have kept Redshift out somehow, though if Sunset had gotten in, then Redshift surely could have, too. Wallflower reached for her radio to call Sunset, only to realize that Sunset had taken it with her.

Panicking, Wallflower began tapping her hooves, struggling to think of what to do. I can't just stand here! But she was too afraid to budge an inch opting instead to peer back out the window, and hope that Sunset would return soon.

Rainbow Dash had followed Blondie into the washroom, taking care to lock the door behind them.

“Do I have the butterfly knife? Or did I give that to you?” Blondie asked.

Rainbow retrieved the blade from its hiding place in her garter belt, flipping the blade out and grinning. Blondie nodded in approval, as he began unloading his suit jacket and pockets, laying out more knives, and even a miniature axe.

Rainbow, similarly, undid her mane to spring free a thin needle like knife, and two pull-out blades from underneath her heels. Blondie stuck his weapons into his belt for easier access. Rainbow, likewise, stuck her effects into her bag, though kept a few blades hidden in her dress, that wrapped around her hips, which fit snugly, but loose enough for her to maintain some degree of agility.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready.”

They exited together, foreleg in foreleg. She wondered if Blondie enjoyed playing the role of a couple as much as she had begun to.

The third story of the mansion seemed completely deserted; the corridor torches had never been lit, and they were so high up now that the sounds of the crowds outside came only as quiet murmurs.

“Whatever happens,” Blondie said, as they made toward the end of the hall, where thin streams of orange light bled out from the cracks of locked double doors. The closer they crept towards the door, the brighter the light became. “...You and I stick together.”

“And Salt?” Rainbow asked.

Blondie’s face seemed to tighten.

“We’re his friends,” Blondie said, “But I’m still not sure he’s ours. Not if a better deal comes his way. We can’t let him sell the case. We can’t. No matter what. ”

Rainbow glanced at him, hesitantly.

“I’m with you,” Rainbow said, though she dreaded to think of what that meant.

Blondie reached the door first, swinging it open, and with a deep breath Rainbow was thrown into a pool of warm candle light. After her eyes adjusted, she saw the room itself, a lounge of sorts with a pool table, a bar in the corner, couches, chairs, bookcases that touched the ceiling. A crimson carpet lay in front of the roaring fireplace, which cast the whole room in dim furnace light. There were candles resting on every table, on the walls, by the bar, by the windows, at least forty in all. Blondie twitched at the sight.

“Ah, there you two are,” came Salt Shaker, sitting on one of the couches in front of the fireplace. Beside him were some of his Manehattan friends, Machine Gun, Wheels, Cottonmouth, and a few others.

Prince Malthos sat on the other side of the fireplace, guarded on either side by four changeling praetorians. And seated right beside him was Brandy Bow, who had her hooves wrapped firmly around the case, pressing it against her chest. She had guards of her own, of course, a pair of twins, two brutish earth ponies, called Rhythm and Rhyme.

Blondie and Brandy locked eyes immediately, though neither spoke, not yet. Blondie then glanced over his shoulder towards the bar, where he saw the One-Eyed Pony pouring himself a drink. Blondie saw the lighter lying on the bar, and for a moment his eyes lingered on the One-Eyed Pony, long enough for Brandy and Rainbow to both notice.

“As I was telling our friends here, we’d be remiss to begin without you,” Salt said, standing up for a moment while Blondie and Rainbow took their seats on the chairs opposite the fireplace, closer to the door and halfway between the distance of the two couches.

“Remember your side of the bargain,” Malthos said, his eyes darting nervously between Salt and Rainbow, “I don’t want anything to go wrong tonight. You’re going to make sure of that. Got it?”

“A deal is a deal,” Salt agreed.

Malthos bit his lip, and he began to twitch, before glancing at Brandy beside him.

“Give him the case,” Malthos said.

“My bits, first,” Brandy said, her voice thin like a pane of glass, “Nopony gets anything until I get my bits.”

Malthos grumbled something under his breath. He glanced at one of his guards, who promptly wheeled over a suitcase in front of her.

“Six million,” Malthos said.

Brandy zipped open the suitcase and expected its contents, approvingly. She retrieved a hoofful of the bits packed inside in orderly rows, and smiled to herself. Her eyes darted up towards Blondie.

After some hesitation, Brandy stood up to her hooves, and trotted towards Salt with the briefcase in her mouth.

“Easy on the goods,” Salt grinned, as Brandy set the case down in front of him. Salt’s hoof glided across its surface, as if he was embracing an old friend.

“My thanks, young lady,” Salt said, bowing his head, "How far you've come."

Brandy eyed him, uneasily, and zipped up her suitcase of bits. She had remained standing, and Malthos rose too.

“If I’m not wedded by the end of tonight,” Malthos said, “You three will be held responsible. And if that happens, that case won’t save you.”

“Your bride is waiting for you, highness,” Salt said, “Best not to keep her waiting.”

Malthos frowned and turned for the door. The praetorians followed suit.

Blondie glanced at Brandy, whose mouth began to twitch, whose hooves were trembling. He wanted nothing more than to run over to her, and hold her, and take her as far away from here as possible. But she would not have it so, and neither would Blondie. He hated that he wanted her to love him. But he wanted that. He wanted that cottage by the maple lake. He wanted Candle Light. He glanced at Salt and Rainbow, and he realized he was surrounded by candle light right then, but still he felt none of its warmth. She wasn't real. She was just part of his brother's plan. Ten, twenty, thirty or more, he saw the bits slipping through her hooves, one for each stallion she had, while he was made to sit and watch. I love you, she had said. I love your name. Dying Light. Light and Light. Nopony liked his name. Only she did. Would Brandy like his name, he wondered? Dying Light. He was laughing in his head. The light was long dead.

"Blondie," came Salt, snatching him away from his thoughts. Brandy had been staring at him, studying the look on his face. I'm just another monster in her eyes. But everypony else had been staring at the door, where the One-Eyed Pony stood. And from the dark of the hall outside, Jet Set had just arrived, and behind him Upper Crust, Fire Streak, and three other of their Canterlot aristocrat cohorts, all dressed in tailored suits and billowing gowns. Jet Set's eyes seemed to glow in the light.

The One-Eyed Pony shut the door behind them, and Brandy began backing up with the twins back towards the fireplace. Salt did his best to keep his composure, as his hoof tightened around the briefcase handle.

Smoothing out her pleated, white satin dress fixed with a lace bodice, Silver Stream wiped her eyes a final time before the doors of her chamber were dragged open. Her face was hidden underneath her veil, though she swore all of the creatures she passed could see how pale her face was, how badly she wanted to cry.

She could hardly remember having left her chamber or descending the steps or crossing into the garden. It seemed to take all her attention just to put one claw down in front of the other. Phasmid and Forewing, a changeling guard, walked beside her, in cloaks of crimson. King Pharynx himself was waiting for her on the steps of the manse’s rear entrance, which led right into the gardens where the ceremony was to be held. The king was resplendent in crimson and gold, but he wore no crown on his head. “Come,” he said.

Silver’s heart lurched. "Don't make me do this," she said, "There has to be another way."

Pharynx’s scowl seemed to soften then, but only for a fleeting moment.

“This is how the Hive will survive,” Pharynx said, “Come, now.”

Prince Malthos arrived at the steps beside them, accompanied by eight praetorians who promptly withdrew to their posts on either side of the aisle.

“Father,” he said, “Grant me a moment with Silver, if you would?”

Pharynx was about to refuse, until Princess Elytra stepped towards him to tug on his foreleg. She practically dragged him away with her towards the row of guards forming along the edge of the aisle.

Malthos wore a doublet of black velvet covered with golden scrollwork, thigh-high boots that added some inches to his height, a chain of rubies and emeralds. “You look amazing, Silver,” he told her.

“It’s good of you to say so,” Silver said. She did not know what else to say. Should I tell him he is handsome? He’ll think of me as a fool or a liar. She lowered her gaze and held her tongue.

“I’m sorry for this,” Malthos said, “You didn't ask for this, and you don't want it, I know. Let's do our duty.”

Once the crowds were all seated, a choir of changelings posing as foals began to sing near the archway platform. Malthos made his way down the aisle, ascending the platform. There was a sense of urgency to everypony’s movements. This wedding could not be delayed, Silver recalled. The priest began saying his words. Silver did not hear a single thing. When the time came for her to march down the aisle with Pharynx at her side in place of her real father, she felt as light as a ghost, weightless and flimsy and weak, drawn closer to that altar against her will.

From the altar, she saw Ocellus, looking at her with her big round eyes. There were other witnesses aplenty, hundreds at least. One young changeling girl in the crowd was sobbing for no apparent reason. Let her sob, Silver thought. Perhaps I’ll do the same before this day is done.

There were prayers and vows and singing, and tall candles burning, a hundred dancing lights that the tears in her eyes transformed into a thousand. No one seemed to notice she was crying as she stood there. They’re all looking at me, but none of them see me. A piece of meat to fawn over, Featherglass had told her, all those months ago. The priest began his final passage.

Hidden in the snow, Starlight Glimmer wore a black cloak and hood to hide her mane and horn, fastened by an amethyst jewel near her neck. She wore black scale armor to protect her chest, and around her hooves were pieces of silver knee armor and black band studded with iron.

Aquila was more of a military camp than a town now, Starlight thought. The firewall spell that protected it had not been easy to circumvent, though Starlight knew the right kind of counter-spell to slip inside undetected.

She arrived under cover of darkness, long after the crowds had begun flooding into the manse that sat upon the high hill overlooking the town, surrounded by a pine tree forest and frozen rivers.

She had positioned herself on top of one of the snow-covered turrets of the manse, so high up in the air that she could see the entirety of the garden below. She scoured the crowds for any sign of Sunset, Trixie, Lightning, or Suri, but there was no sign of them.

“I should have known you’d get the same idea.”

Starlight felt her spine turn cold.

Starlight spun around to find the draconequus hovering in the air, a delicious grin twisting onto his face. He snapped his claws, and in a flash of light Eight Ball arrived on the turret in front of her. He could not have been far from where Discord had teleported him; his mane and coat were speckled with snow.

“What the-..Starlight Glimmer?.” Eight Ball grunted, glancing up at Discord in disbelief.

Starlight had sprung to her hooves, her horn at the ready.

“Discord…What did you-” Eight Ball began, inching his way towards the turret’s edge.

“She came here of her own volition,” Discord laughed, “She must have missed me, no doubt.”

“You're here for the Orb," Starlight presumed.

"That and the scenery. You're looking well," Discord chirped.

"You left me for dead,” Starlight reminded.

“Who can say who left who exactly? I distinctly recall we had agreed to battle together against Twilight. Not Luna. There’s only five alicorns. How could you possibly mix them up? Oh, well, I guess there’s only four now, poor Celestia,” Discord snickered.

Starlight gritted her teeth. “Luna almost killed me.”

“Yet you survived. So I suppose you didn’t need me after all. And it wasn’t all for naught, either. Eight Ball, show her Star Swirl’s parting gift,” Discord said.

Eight Ball dug into his bag and revealed the Witch’s Wand, Star Swirl’s prized work. Discord claw flexed, and the wand magically ascended out of Eight Ball’s hoof up into Discord’s paw.

“You stole his wand?” Starlight stammered.

“With this, the Orb’s power can be harnessed. And together we can defeat Twilight once and for all,” Discord said.

“I…This isn’t right,” Starlight said.

Discord's smile faltered. Eight Ball tensed up.

“....Hm?” Discord chimed.

“I told you before, we can’t just kill Twilight. It’s not right,” Starlight stammered.

“Not right?” Discord laughed, “I'd hoped two brushes with death would have finally gotten you to see things clearly. I guess Luna was too easy on you."

Starlight sighed.

“All I’ve wanted to do since Twilight threw me in Hellhatch is to kill her. Every day that’s gone by I think of every way that I could have revenge, that I could make her suffer the way she made Ember, Thorax, and all of them suffer before they died. But if I do that, if I go through with it….I’ll never come back. I’m only one step behind turning into her, just like I’ve always been, except now instead it’s a path I know is wrong. If I cross that line, if I were to kill somepony…it would become too easy for me to do it again. I’d keep crossing it.”

“Why should you need to live with yourself?” Discord asked, “Why should your peace of mind matter more than all the suffering that she’s caused?”

“This isn’t about me,” Starlight said, “This is about harmony. Everypony’s abandoned it, but you’ll have to kill me before I do.”

“When your enemy throws out the rulebook, what advantage is there to playing fairly?” Discord asked.

“There’s a way to make things how they used to be,” Starlight said, “I thought like you do, when I went after Twilight, when I left all my friends behind. And I was wrong, and so are you. The world you pretend to care about will never come back if you turn yourself into her.”

Discord played with the wand in his claw.

“Right and wrong, good and evil…For all the thousands of years I’ve lived, I’ve seen these things change, flip, disappear completely. They’re not real, Starlight. Power is all that’s real. You and I, the Orb and the wand - nothing could withstand us. Not even Twilight. Only through me can you reshape the world back to how you want, and restore the memory of harmony you cling to so tightly. You could become a god like the alicorns, but one whose rule is worthy of Equestria’s worship, of its love. Is that not all you’ve ever wanted? To be loved like them? This is how you do it. No other way. Only me. Whether it's pride or cowardice, forget it all and join me.”

Starlight dug her hooves into the snow. She shivered, as another chill went through her. The murmurings of the crowds below seemed to disappear then, and she could hear nothing but her own breath, and see nothing but the golden glow of Discord’s eyes.

“No,” Starlight said at last, gritting her teeth, “I never should have trusted you. That’s never happening again. This is a serious power we’re meddling with here, and there’s no way I’m trusting you to do the right thing with the orb. Our partnership is at an end.”

Eight Ball glanced up at Discord, whose grin had finally vanished off his face.

“How disappointing,” Discord sighed.

“The wand. Hand it over,” Starlight commanded, taking a step forward.

Eight Ball’s hooves kicked snow off the edge of the turret. Discord’s claw snapped, and in a single blink a ring of blue fire erupted around the turret’s edges. Starlight steadied herself in the snow, and her horn ignited.

“Well that’s just precious…” Discord laughed, “Luna and Twilight weren’t enough for you? The wand is mine.”

Starlight gritted her teeth, and her horn glowed brighter.

“If you don’t hand it over, then I’m going to have to take it.”

Discord’s grin returned, and his eyes began to burn, furnace hot.

“I’d be delighted to see you try.”

Jet Set finished his glass of bourbon, as his eyes wandered out the window towards the ceremony unfolding below. Rainbow Dash glanced at Brandy Bow, who had seated herself near the fireplace, closer to Jet Set’s couch.

To Jet Set’s right on the couch was Upper Crust, sprawled out with her head hung back, exhausted. And on his left was Fire Streak.

"We've missed you at the Wonderbolts Academy," Fire Streak said, "Who could've guessed this is what you've been up to?"

"Speak for yourself," Rainbow said. Rainbow, too, had stolen a few looks out the window. She had promised Silver she’d save her, somehow. But she had to stop Salt from selling the case, first. If Jet Set had his hooves on the Orb, all of Equestria would be in even greater danger, Silver included.

“I’d say they make a lovely couple, though something rubs me the wrong way about an arranged marriage,” Jet Set said, glancing away from the window.

“I’m sure Malthos will make her as happy as you do for your wife,” Brandy said.

Salt laughed, and Jet Set even cracked a grin.

“All those months of torture in the Underground’s dungeon and your sense of humor survived. Marvelous,” Jet Set said, “...Well, it seems as though Malthos’ gamble has paid off for him. Now. What about mine?”

Salt held the briefcase in his lap, pawing at it, delicately. Jet Set’s eyes flickered with the candle’s glow. The One-Eyed Pony stood over his shoulder, behind the couch. Rainbow felt Blondie’s breath begin to draw short.

“Five million, was it? You’ve made out well, today, my friend. Good business indeed,” Jet Set said.

Salt Shaker watched as the One-Eyed Pony revealed a second briefcase, brown in color. He opened it himself, revealing the rows and rows of bits contained inside. The One-Eyed Pony held onto the bits, before glancing at Jet.

“Now, be so good as to hand over what was promised. The sooner you do, the sooner I’ll help you crush anypony who should try and challenge you,” Jet Set said.

Salt smiled, softly, as his eyes lifted up and down from the case. Blondie and Rainbow glanced at each other. What is he waiting for?
“There won’t be any challengers,” Salt said.

Jet Set’s eyes twitched. Rainbow, Blondie, and Brandy too, seemed confused.

“For every pony who makes his mark on the world," Jet Set said, "There are forty or more gutter rats cursing him and wishing what was his is theirs."

“I know,” Salt said, “Which is why I’ve brought all the gutter rats here. With me.”

The doors swung open, and in came Diamond Dazzle the Debutante, with her Thirty Thieves, a snarling, giggling rabble of delinquents. And from the door at the other corner of the room, Hellcat and his Black Hoof brutes stormed through.

They all approached the fireplace, while Salt kept his gaze fixed on Jet Set, whose lips had been wound up tight.

“Fear will only get you so far,” Salt said, “All of us have tried to kill each other, at some point. But only one pony profits from it no matter which of us wins, or which of us loses.”

Jet Set forced a smile and glanced around at the various gangs of thieves and crooks, who were all glaring right at him. Upper Crust had finally sat up, shrinking into the cushions, terrified. Fire Streak had stood up, only for Jet Set to ease him back down.

“Whatever he’s offered you, it will pale in comparison to what I-” Jet began.

“Don’t even try it. Your gifts are all poison,” Dazzle spat.

“The deal’s for your life, now, slick,” Hellcat added, “So best speak smart.”

Jet nodded his head, slowly, processing every conceivable option. Brandy tightened her grip on the rests of her seat, and glanced at Blondie, who was ready to reach for one of his knives. Jet Set leaned in closer, shutting his eyes for a moment in surrender. He glanced up at Salt, who was still studying him.

Jet Set smirked.

“And that…is very good business.”

Through the white of the veil, Silver Stream’s world was only a blur. The tears did not help. Rainbow said she would come for me. Where is she?

She imagined Ocellus running up to save her, or her father, or her mother. Oh, how she missed her mother. She wanted nothing more than to be back with her family, back in Seaquestria, safe far below the waves.

“Do you take this mare to be your lawfully-wedded wife, to love her in sickness and in health?” the priest asked.

Malthos hesitated longer than Silver had expected. Don’t do this, Malthos. Please.

“I do,” Malthos said.

Silver shut her eyes again and began weeping. She wanted to strike him, or run, but she knew she would not get far. The priest cleared his throat.

“And do you, Silver Stream, take this stallion to be your lawfully-wedded husband?”

Silver felt her breath escape her, as she opened her mouth to speak.

Discord snapped his claw, and in an instant the snow covering the turret transformed into huge stacks of ice cream. With an outstretched paw, the mounds of soft serve came soaring through the air towards Starlight, smashing into her and sending her toppling off the turret’s edge two stories below to a snow-covered section of the roof. He still had a hold of the wand, held tightly to his chest.

“Enjoy your just desserts.” Discord laughed. Starlight growled and emerged from the ice cream, from the ground below.

Starlight teleported herself back up to the garden, hovering in the air in an aura of magic. She fired her horn at Discord, who slithered through the air in a circle, evading each blast. Eight Ball nearly lost his balance off the edge of the turret, before hurrying to find a ladder to climb down.

Starlight pummeled into Discord at full speed, and together they fell through the air, while Discord laughed and laughed.

“Give up the wand!” Starlight yelled.

Starlight cast an aura of magic around his chest and slammed shut, snapping Discord’s rib cage into dust. Discord only laughed, bouncing his head back, before dissolving into ash. He reformed right in front of her, grabbing Starlight by her throat and crushing her neck. Starlight ignited her horn, planting herself inside Discord’s mind. He let go for a moment, as he began to twitch and groan and bark, disoriented and in agony, as Starlight broke into his mind and activated every pain receptor in his nervous system. Discord screamed aloud and thrashed in the air, before overcoming Starlight’s control and breathing a mouthful of fire, attempting to incinerate her. Starlight blocked the impact with a shield of magic, before conjuring a swarm of icy shards to shred him into bits.

Discord laughed and phased into some kind of immaterial specter, yawning as the shards all ran right through him.

“If I were really trying to hurt you, this would’ve been long over by now,” Discord laughed.

Starlight, out of breath and furious, screamed and ignited her horn again, darting through the air after Discord.

Jet Set circled his hoof around his glass.

“The money’s all you care about,” Jet said, before glancing at Blondie and Rainbow, “Well. For most of you, I think. But the case is what I care about. This is bigger than whatever petty grievances led you to this truce of yours, a short-lived one at that, I expect. One of you will be quick to take my place, no doubt.”

The crowd of thieves became uneasy then, enough that Salt had to glance over his shoulder.

“He wants us at each other’s throats,” Salt said, “Like he’s always had us.”

“You want yourselves at each other’s throats,” Jet corrected, “Most of you couldn’t fathom what it takes to run things where I am, and the few that do would let everything come crumbling to pieces in a matter of days. This is the life you’ve always understood, and as much as you all like to whine about it, you know that it’s all you’Il ever understand. I am where I am because I am who I am. But that doesn’t mean you can’t share a part of my life.”

“Share that five million, that’d be a start,” said Hellcat, to the rowdy agreement of the thieves behind him.

Jet Set grinned.

“Five million for my life, as you wish. And another five million, you’ll have that, too. In exchange for what I came here for. The case.”

“Ten million?” repeated Dazzle, shocked.

“No,” Salt said, “Fifteen million. Five for me, five for Dazzle, and five for Hellcat.”

“Fifteen million…” Jet Set considered. He was sweating bullets now. “...That’s a lot of bits.”

“Not if you can’t spend it,” came a new voice from the doorway.

Jet Set’s breath gave out, suddenly, and a smile curled to his lips, while the crowd of thieves made room for the newest arrival to the room.

A bright blue aura of magic revealed the face of Sunset Shimmer, clad in her pink dress, trotting her way through the crowd. Rainbow Dash jumped to her hooves, as did Blondie and Salt. The crowd fell deathly quiet.

“You have your rats,” Jet Set smiled, glaring at Salt, “And I have mine.”

“So, Jet, your little henchponies are unionizing? Shame I never got the memo,” Sunset said, “It’s good you’re all here together. This will be much simpler.”

“Everypony get back,” Dazzle barked. Everypony in the crowd began rumbling then, backing into the corner, drawing their weapons. Jet Set rose from the couch, finally, as did Brandy Bow from her chair.

Only Salt, Blondie, and Rainbow remained where they were. Blondie kept his eyes on Jet and the One-Eyed Pony, anxious about any surprise attacks.

Sunset’s eyes darted over toward the briefcase, in Salt’s hooves.

“So this is what all the fuss is about,” Sunset said, inspecting the case from a few feet away.

“A hundred or more ponies, all dead on its behalf,” Jet remarked.

“That list will be longer, after tonight,” Sunset said, glancing back at Jet, “I want to see Scootaloo.”

“Scootaloo?” came Rainbow, “What are you talking about?”

Rainbow spun around to face Jet Set, who had raised his hoof, silencing the room.

“I had thought we could settle this civilly,” Jet said, glancing back at Salt, “I suppose not. Sunset, if you want your friend back, kill him and bring me the case.”

Sunset’s face shifted then, and for a moment her eyes betrayed something that could only be panic.

“...Not until I know she’s still alive,” Sunset said, as sweat blinded her in one eye.

Jet Set sighed.

“Keep me waiting and she won’t be,” Jet Set said.

Sunset hesitated, as she turned her horn over towards Salt. Blondie planted himself between them.

“Wait,” Salt said, shoving Blondie out of the way, “...Alright. You’ve done it.”

Jet Set raised an eyebrow.

“The case,” Salt said, “It’s yours.”

Hellcat and Dazzle glanced at each other, nervously.

“I want her as well,” Jet said, glancing over at Brandy.

"I'm not his to give," Brandy growled. Rhythm and Rhyme stood tall on either side of her.

Salt glanced at Blondie, who was already staring at him.

"Why?" Salt asked, "She'll give you the combination. What else can she give you?"

“You’ve got more of a brain than Crozer or Trench ever had, and so I’d be glad to have you in my service, even after all of this. But you must understand, I need some kind of insurance to prevent any more treacherous thoughts from crossing your mind. The girl betrayed you already, she's no friend of yours. Although I've gathered that she still matters to you, for some reason." Jet was looking at Blondie now, whose breaths came quicker out his snout. "She matters to him, and he matters to you, Salt. I'll take good care of her. I promise."

"I'm not going with you," Brandy said. To her frustration, she found herself looking to Blondie. She could not bring herself to ask for his help, though the look in her eyes said enough.

Blondie took a step forwards, staring up at Salt. And the giant glanced down at him, and for the smallest moment, a smile found its way to his face.

Sunset still had her horn pointed at them, though even she seemed reluctant to have to fire her horn. The One-Eyed Pony was smirking right at Blondie, which seemed to set him off even more.

“Or I suppose I could just kill all of you instead,” Jet laughed. Brandy was trembling again, and Blondie took a step closer towards her.

“...Nopony needs to die,” Salt said, approaching Jet, dragging the briefcase behind him.

Jet Set smiled and eyed the giant as he approached. Salt handed the briefcase over, but as Jet’s hoof reached the handle, Salt hesitated. Blondie’s eyes were fixed on him. Don’t do it, he wanted to say, though Blondie too was not sure there was any other way.

“You lost, Salt,” Jet smiled, “You went all in, and lost.”

"Blondie," Brandy finally said.

"Not another step, or the deal's off," Jet warned, and Blondie listened, "The girl's mine."

Salt released his grip on the briefcase. Blondie took a step forward, hoping to have Salt’s back, but Rainbow’s hoof came to stop him. Blondie had never gotten to know Salt as a young stallion, but he had heard the stories. And in those eyes then, he knew that the stories might have been all true, after all. There was a murderous rage there, a red fury.

“And now my friend, I will ask that you shake my hoof,” Jet said, “As a professional courtesy.”

Upper Crust glanced at her husband, warily. Even Fire Streak seemed uneasy. And the thieves, who were as furious as Salt were, now seemed on the brink of some mad frenzy, as they swayed in place and held their weapons close to their chests.

“Shake your hoof?” Salt asked.

“That’s right. Shake my hoof.”

Salt opened his mouth to reply, but no words came.

Blondie felt Rainbow grab him by his foreleg. Blondie wanted to move, but he could only watch for Salt’s next step. Don't give her up. Don't."

Salt gave a strange smile, and he glanced back at Blondie for a moment. And Blondie felt his heart sink then, when Salt turned back around and took a step towards Jet.

Nopony saw when exactly the blade sprung loose out of Salt’s jacket sleeve. All they saw was the slash of silver across the air, past Jet’s outstretched hoof. Jet’s chest and part of his throat had been torn open by the knife, and blood sprayed up into the air like a fountain as he fell to the ground, gasping and clawing for breath.

Upper Crust screamed. Blondie reached for his knife. Sunset’s horn glowed brighter.

“That handsome face is still intact, isn’t it?” Salt said, “That’s a professional courtesy.”

The One-Eyed Pony shot first, charging his horn up until it glowed blinding bright white, before erupting to burn through the air, burn and burn and burn all the way through Salt Shaker’s jacket, his shirt, his flesh and his heart. Sunset Shimmer had opened fire on the Thieves, and Hellcat had already flipped the couch to use as cover.

“Salt!” Blondie screamed, rushing over towards him, but Rainbow had grabbed him first, dragging him back with her towards the ground to avoid the hellstorm of magical bullets whizzing through the air. Blondie’s heart had stopped, as he and Rainbow could only watch in horror as the giant fell to his knees, his white face paler than ever, for the hole that had burned through his chest and out his back.

Dazzle had levied a blast towards the One-Eyed Pony, who had killed two more ponies since shooting Salt. But the blast caught a fleeing Upper Crust, instead, who went flying off her hooves towards the window. Jet Set, who was holding a hoof to his torn-open throat, raised a hoof towards where Upper Crust had been thrown, as he tried to call out her name. But he was too weak to move after her or cast a spell, as blood gushed out from his throat, staining the crimson carpet a deeper shade of red.

Brandy, who was hiding behind Rhythm and Rhyme and a toppled-over couch, was still staring at where Salt had fallen.

Rainbow Dash covered her ears as a blast of magic scorched the air right next to her head, and Blondie ran off to where Salt had collapsed. The blast that had struck Upper Crust sent her crashing through the glass of the window, and her screaming was the last thing Rainbow heard before something hard hit her in the head, and her world turned black.

The priest was staring at her. Malthos was staring at her. All the guards, and all the guests, the faces she knew, and the faces she didn’t. All of them were waiting for her answer.

“I….” Silver said, “I….”

Before she could get her words out, some shrill sound rang out from somewhere in the distance. It was a scream, Silver realized, a mare’s scream that could be heard from all the way down in the garden, and with it came the sound of shattering glass. Silver caught a brief glimpse of the mare as she fell three stories to her death from one of the manse’s third story chambers, some golden pony with a pale purple mane.

The guests all rose from their chairs, as soldiers began rushing towards the scene. There were more screams and murmurings and chaos all around, and from it Silver watched a pony slither out from the dark edges of the garden, a pony soldier in all black. She had never seen her before.

She’s not an imperial, Silver quickly realized. The pony was a mare, a red mare with sharp, green eyes. The pony’s horn was ignited, and she was heading right for the platform, trotting along past the oblivious guests who were busy trying to figure out what had happened.

Silver seemed to be the only creature to see what was happening, before the black-armored soldier fired her horn straight towards the platform. Silver shrieked. She’s trying to kill me!

But the blast whizzed right past, and found Malthos instead, knocking him off his hooves. Now the ceremony had turned into a full-on frenzy, as fifty-or-more royal soldiers emerged from the where they had been hiding in the dark, taking off their disguises and blasting changelings and Imperials and making their way towards Silver, who crouched down beneath the archway to avoid any stray shots. She immediately began looking for Ocellus, though did not stray from where Malthos was lying, groaning in agony at his seared shoulder.

“Are you OK?!” Silver asked, kneeling beside him. He swatted her claw away as she reached to help him.

“FIND THEM! KILL THEM!” he wailed from the ground, as changeling praetorians formed a defensive circle around him. King Pharynx had descended into the garden to confront the royals, and a host of changeling guards followed after him.

Then, amidst the chaos of royals and imperials and changelings turning the garden into a battlefield, some kind of meteor came ramming into the garden from the heavens. No, not a meteor, a draconequus, and a pony alongside him. Discord! Silver realized. She could not see who the pony was, as she was obscured in ash and a black cloak. What’s he doing here?!

Silver panicked and began rushing for cover, unsure where to go as creatures ran about screaming. There were changelings calling after her, Princess Elytra among them, no doubt trying to bring her to safety. But Silver was lost to the chaos, as creatures ran every which way to escape. Silver crouched down to avoid being struck by any stray shots, when a hoof grabbed her by the shoulder. Silver glanced up to find Ocellus standing over her. Silver would have burst into tears then, but she hadn’t the time, as Ocellus helped her up to her hooves.

“Let’s get out of here!” Ocellus exclaimed.

Ocellus held onto Silver’s claw, tightly, and they made off into the crowds, as gardens went up in flames.

Blondie fell to his knees in front of Salt Shaker. Blondie picked him up by his head, holding him in his lap, as he felt his heart twist in his chest.

“Blondie!” came Dazzle from nearby, dodging blasts from Sunset and the One-Eyed Pony, and the rest of Jet Set’s goons, “Get your friend and the case and get out of here!! We’ll hold these two off! But don’t forget about our deal!”

Blondie glanced at her for a moment, and back at Salt.

“I can’t leave him,” Blondie muttered.

“Damn you, he’s gone,” Dazzle yelled, dodging a blast.

Blondie held his head in his hooves, gasping for breath as his mind turned foggy and his heart lurched in his chest. He could not look down any longer, and he dragged himself away. He found Rainbow nearby, unconscious after taking a spear’s butt to the head. And the bits, Malthos' six million and Jet Set's five million, where were they? Most of the candles had been snuffed out, but some had been knocked over to set the curtains ablaze. He found the bits in the hooves of the twins, Rhyme and Rhythm, who were making for the door, though Brandy was not with them.

Blondie grabbed the case and slung Rainbow’s body over his back. He lifted up with his legs, before a sharp pain sent him spinning over onto his chest. A stray blast had torn through the flesh in his hind leg. He growled and gasped as the pain swept through him, and he tried to push up again, still with Rainbow on his back, though he had lost the strength.

He saw a hoof reach down from around the couch, and he glanced up.

"C'mon," said Brandy, grabbing him by his hoof and helping him up to his hooves, "Let's go!" She urged, following after the twins with Blondie's hoof in hers, and Rainbow on his back. They ran out the door, escaping the firefight, fleeing into the dark hall.

Sunset Shimmer screamed, and her horn glowed even brighter. Dazzle and Hellcat and all their ponies all came tumbling back against the wall, where they were stuck against, all sprawled out like flies on flypaper. Sunset held them there, catching her breath and glancing over at where Jet Set lay. He still had a hoof to his throat, but he had sat himself up, struggling with his other hoof on the couch. His eyes were red and leaking tears, and his suit was drenched in blood. The One-Eyed Pony had his horn aimed at Sunset now, hesitantly.

“Jet. This is your last fucking chance. Tell me where Scootaloo is,” Sunset said.

The One-Eyed Pony flinched, glancing down at Jet Set, who coughed some blood.

“If I don’t leave this wedding alive,” he choked out, his voice raspy and wet, “The girl dies.”

Sunset was seething with rage.

“If you hurt her I’ll rip you apart limb from limb,” Sunset said.

“Then do as I say,” Jet warned. Each word was agony for him, with his throat sliced open. His horn was alight, Sunset noticed, and whatever spell he was casting was keeping him alive, for the moment.

“For both our sakes,” Jet continued, “You have…three days. Find Blondie and get me the case. I’ll be at Hellebore's Fort, a few miles from here, waiting for you.”

Sunset could feel herself burning with rage, but before she could release it all, she sighed, and dimmed her horn. Dazzle and Hellcat and all the thieves came spilling down to the floor in a pile, all groaning in pain.

“Three days,” Sunset confirmed. She glared at the One-Eyed Pony, who finally dimmed his fear, laughing off his own fear.

Sunset left them all there, turning back out to see if she could catch up with Blondie, though he was long gone already.

As Sunset jogged down the hall and the stairwell, she clicked on her radio.

“Suri? Lightning?”

No answer came. Sunset had to tell herself not to panic, even more so after returning down the second floor corridor where she had left Wallflower. The hallway was completely deserted. But one of the windows had been busted open, and through it Sunset could get a better glimpse of the chaos below.

Royal soldiers fought with imperials and changelings, and creatures ran to avoid the destruction unfolding. Splashes of purple fire and tornados of dirt burst through the air, and all Sunset could think of was where her friends might be, if they were alive.

“Sunset Shimmer.”

At the very bottom of the steps, a soldier in black armor had emerged from the scramble. Redshift wore a different set of armor than the last time they had crossed paths. Her breastplate was molded in ebony iron bejeweled with miniature rubies, all scuffed with ash and dirt.

“Of course you’re here, too,” Redshift scowled, “I thought saving the princess would be enough to win Twilight’s favor again. But killing you, on top of that….Looks like luck is back on my side.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Sunset said, igniting her horn. Redshift began cackling, as her horn twisted into a red flame.

Sunset ran towards her and meant to fire her horn, but, to her shock, Redshift was far quicker, blasting Sunset in the chest hard enough to send her flying back into a pillar. The crater that Sunset left in the marble was strong enough to cause the entire pillar to begin collapsing upon itself, showering Sunset in dust.

“You’ve lost your edge, Shimmer,” Redshift grinned.

Another strike took Sunset in the gut, and another swung down with even greater force above. Sunset felt her jaw get knocked out of place, and she landed on the tile with a bloody splat.

“Fuck,” Sunset croaked, struggling to pick herself up.

“When you see your friend Starlight in the land of the dead, tell her I say hi,” Redshift grinned. Sunset grunted and tried to find her hooves, but Redshift already had her in her magical grip. Flashing fangs with full foul fury, Redshift dragged Sunset up into the air and swung her around face-first into one of the columns. Upon impact, Sunset's horn cracked at the stem, and the ear-splitting headache that followed made Sunset scream, before collapsing to her knees, leaking blood out of her nose, ears, and the crack in her horn.

Sunset threw her hoof into the ground, as the pressure in her forehead made her vision go blurry and her speech begin to slur. Redshift had her by the throat in an aura of magic, squeezing all the air out of her lungs. She felt herself fly through the air, back towards the open window. Sunset didn’t start screaming until Redshift’s grip gave out, and Sunset entered free fall.

Wallflower darted down the steps towards the garden, rushing against the current of panicked creatures running for their lives. She desperately searched for Redshift, or Silver Stream in the crowds, but she couldn't see much through the frenzy.

Down below in the garden, Wallflower found Lightning by the appetizers table, just as she caved in a royal soldier’s breastplate with a hindleg kick.

“Lightning!” Wallflower yelled.

Lightning nearly kicked Wallflower too, before catching herself just in time.

“Oh my gosh! Wallflower!” Lightning gasped, rushing over to hug Wallflower, “What are you doing out here!”

“Redshift's here," Wallflower said. Lightning wiped the sweat off her face.

"Of course. Why not?" Lightning laughed, "Where's Sunset?"

"I don't know. We’ve gotta find the princess!” Wallflower exclaimed, “We have to find her!” Lightning caught her breath, and nodded.

Suri was nearby, shimmying her way through the battle, dodging blasts of magic and stray knives. One soldier grabbed her by her leg, and so Suri promptly bent down to pick up a metal serving tray, before bashing the soldier over the head with it.

“Look, don’t touch, ‘kay?” Suri muttered to herself.

Wallflower and Lightning found her near the hedge maze. Lightning kept watch over her shoulder as Wallflower ran up to inspect Suri for any injuries.

"I'm fine," Suri said, before glancing at Lightning, "It's her you should be worried about. I can't even picture you without a black eye, anymore."

“The princess, have you seen her?” Wallflower asked.

“I saw her run off,” Suri said, “If she's quick, she can get out of here. Maybe we should worry about ourselves, huh?”

“Hey, at least for once this wasn’t our fault, right?” Lightning grinned.

All three of them turned towards the manse, when Sunset’s screaming sounded off from out of a second story window. The trio stared in horror as Sunset fell all the way down towards the marble surface below.

Wallflower winced and shut her eyes, unable to look. Sunset’s screaming had stopped.

Wallflower opened her eyes, trembling with fear, only to find Sunset standing upright, a magical bubble protecting her. Sunset’s horn dimmed, and the bubble disappeared, and she promptly fell to her knees, exhausted.

“Sunset!” cried Wallflower and Lightning at once. All three rushed over to her, helping her up. "Your horn!"

Sunset's horn was split near the middle, though could still function. But each spell seemed to cause Sunset unbearable pain, and after that bubble Sunset needed a minute to sit and recover.

“What happened?” Lightning asked, spreading her wings, ready to challenge whoever had so callously tossed Sunset nearly to her death. Sunset grabbed Lightning’s foreleg before she could take flight.

“The case, it's gone, we’ve gotta catch up,” Sunset managed, though she could hardly avoid blacking out from the pain, “We’ve got to go…Scootaloo, she…”

Sunset fell into Wallflower’s hooves, as she lost consciousness for a moment. Wallflower glanced up at Suri and Lightning, who were both looking at her.

“What do we do?” Suri asked, hesitantly.

“Yeah, Wallflower? What do we do?” Lightning stammered.

Wallflower glanced between them. Do something. Do something!

“Uh, uh, Suri, go call up Moon Dancer,” Wallflower said, “Tell her to pick us up outside, and tell her we need Lackluster's guys to take a look at Sunset, ASAP, she's hurt...Lightning, keep an eye out for Redshift, and help me carry Sunset out of here."

"OK. OK, got it!" Lightning said, nodding.

But before any of them could move, a new explosion rang out from the garden, so powerful that even Sunset roused from her daze.

The soldiers were whittling each other down in the garden, which was now littered with dead, but at the far end of the aisle, where the platform had once stood, they saw two creatures struggling in the air, moving so quickly they were hardly visible at all. But with that great crack in the sky, they each went still for a moment, and one, the smaller of the two, found her footing on solid ground, straight ahead in that aisle. Her black cloak was mostly torn, and her purple mane was scorched with ash. But each of them recognized the glow of that horn. Wallflower practically dropped Sunset, but Sunset had found her strength again, her eyes widening.

“Starlight?!”

Starlight stumbled back onto her hind legs, grunting as the last of her strength escaped her.

“Discord!” she managed, falling to her knees.

Discord was hovering in the air, laughing maniacally to himself.

“Good effort, Glimmer,” Discord smiled, “But not good enough.”

Starlight groaned and stood back up to her hooves.

"Oh, come now, quit while you’re ahead. I’ve been playing nice. I have the wand. Soon I’ll have the orb. Then absolutely nothing can stop me, you least of all.”

“I…won’t…let you do this,” Starlight croaked. Her horn ignited, even as all her strength wavered.

Discord grinned, and his claw produced a ball of fire. Starlight braced herself with all her strength.

Then a flash of green wings came belting out from the edges of Starlight’s vision, kicking Discord in the jaw, knocking a few teeth loose.

A swirl of blue was quick to follow, twisting through the air, spinning like a helix, and in its wake came flames of gold, red, and opal. Starlight’s eyes widened.

Sunset shot him once, twice, three times through his hide, burning holes all the way through his flesh. Each spell made her cry out in pain, but she did not falter.

Discord hesitated enough for Starlight to set him on fire using an immolation spell. He extinguished himself immediately, though was blinded for a moment, and before he could snap his claw, Sunset sliced off his talon at the stem with a ray of heat magic.

Discord grabbed his steaming stump and turned to face Sunset Shimmer, who tore through the air again at such a speed she broke almost every bone in Discord’s body.

Discord reassembled himself, and laughed, as Starlight was joined on either side by Sunset and Lightning. But Discord’s smile was wiped off his face, when he realized the wand was no longer in his claw.

“Looking for this?” Starlight grinned, raising the wand in her aura of magic. Discord laughed, softly.

“…These must be the friends you’re always going on about,” Discord grinned, “Sunset Shimmer is it? Celestia’s failed apprentice? And you, the dollar store Rainbow Dash?”

“Say the word, Starlight, and I’ll sock this chump a second time for ya,” Lightning grunted. Starlight steadied her with a hoof.

“I could kill you, bring you back to life, and kill you again for eternity if I so desired,” Discord said.

Sunset took a step forward, eager to re-engage, though Starlight stuck out her hoof to stop her, too.

Discord locked eyes with Starlight, and he smiled for a moment, before glancing up at all of the devastation wrought upon the garden. The fires gleamed in his eyes, and Starlight wondered why Discord seemed to have given up so easily.

“The whole world is on fire," Discord said, "Your honor, your mercy, your weakness won't save it. If you won't join me, I'll have to handle things myself."

"You don't fool me," Starlight challenged, "You're afraid of her. That's why you came to me in the first place. You need me. But I don't need you." Starlight glanced at Sunset and Lightning on either side of her, and back to Discord.

Discord snickered, glancing up at the stars above, and then back at the wand in Starlight's hooves.

"I'll see you on the other side, Glimmer."

Starlight’s victorious smile faded, just as Discord snapped his claws and disappeared in a flash of light.

Starlight brought the wand to her chest, and fell to her knees. She glanced up at Sunset and Lightning, who were both still too stunned to speak much at all.

Lightning fell to her knees beside Starlight, and practically fell on top of her, hugging her so tightly Starlight felt the air slip out of her lungs. Lightning was crying and laughing, Starlight realized, and she laughed too, hugging her back.

"You're OK!" Lightning exclaimed, practically bouncing with excitement, "You're OK!"

“Starlight!” cried Wallflower, who was followed by Suri; the two had been trying to get a connection on the radio to contact Moon Dancer.

Wallflower fell to the ground and joined the hug. "Starlight, you, we...We thought you were dead!" Wallflower exclaimed.

"What happened?! Who was that guy?!" Lightning stammered.

Starlight was too overwhelmed to answer; all she could do was smile and laugh and struggle up to her hooves. She glanced at Suri, who was still standing, and still too stunned to speak.

“...Glimmer,” Suri said, as a smile curled onto her lips.

“Polomare,” Starlight smiled.

They met each other halfway and hugged, and Suri was surprised to find herself wanting to cry a little too, though perhaps not to Lightning's extent, who was a trembling mess. She backed away, and Starlight turned to Sunset, who was standing apart from them all.

Starlight and Sunset locked eyes, and might have moved in for a hug, or a punch, maybe, but before they could move, they all heard some soldiers’ voices moving closer from over the hill.

“We’ve gotta get to the carriage,” Sunset grunted, struggling to move, “Let’s go.”

“And Silver Stream?” asked Wallflower.

“She made it out, I’m sure,” Sunset said, “C’mon, we’ve gotta go!”

After sticking the wand inside her cloak, Starlight glanced over her shoulder one last time, as she followed the other four towards a burnt-out section of the hedges, off into the snowy night.

Author's Note

Thanks for reading! The next chapter is going to be more Twilight-focused, and will include the battle at Canterlot with the dragons. Before I start on it, I'm planning on going through each chapter and adding a story recap in the author's note. Sorry about the long wait and thanks again for reading!

08: The Butcher of the Sea

“We’ll all be dead by nightfall.”

The bell tolled at break of day, when the Bronze Beauty was still drowning in the morning mist. It was Eventide in the crow’s nest who had raised the alarm, screaming his lungs out about some speck of black in the fog. It was only a smudge on the looking glass, Sandbar had told him.

The second alarm had come around midday, and this time, it could not be blamed on a smudge. The fog had cleared, the seas were calm, and there, six leagues away, came a ripple in the waves, a blast of a horn, and three sets of raised sails. On deck, all had been idle; the crew was mindlessly cleaning equipment, scrubbing the boards, or sleeping in.

“Beat to quarters!” Spar roared from the rear, and the sleepy ship awoke with shouting and an accidental shot of a pistol.

Thunder came with the drummer’s rally. Below deck, a frenzy of colts came clambering out of their hammocks, tumbling into dress and rushing for their scabbards and pistols. Tables were cleared of food and debris to make way for the Half-Nurse’s tools, while in the captain’s quarters, the old stallion Scurvy fixed his belt, sheath, and coat, and stormed over to the front deck.

“Morning, Cap’n,” came Sandbar, when the captain passed his way, “Sighting to our rear.”

The front deck was a busy mess of bodies moving to their posts. The marines had the bow, while the cargoponies climbed up the ropes and scurried down the galley ladder, rearing up barrels of ammunition and clearing away the deck clutter.

Scurvy’s marines, as he liked to call them, consisted of Bandolier and the four other adults on board, all unicorns. What good would four do against any foe, Bandolier had little idea. Cloudy was hunched over by the deck rail when Bandolier arrived, and beside him was Old Barebone.

“Dead by nightfall, truly,” Old Barebone grunted, “Now the crow boy claims he’s seen them fly a bloody red kraken on a black field.”

“Pirates?” Bandolier presumed.

Old Barebone gritted his teeth.

“He doesn’t like pirates,” Cloudy explained, “Can’t say I do, either. But sound carries over water and they’re only a ways off, so meself, I’ll say I’m indifferent.”

“A trio of Kumanese sailors we met in Basalt, they came across a pirate ship off of Bladerock Pass, flying a bloody red skeleton on a black field. Only the three of them escaped,” Old Barebone said.

“Skeletons and krakens are two different things,” Cloudy pointed out, “Krakens might be friendlier. We’ll soon find out, I suppose.”

“Three survived. What happened to the rest?” Bandolier asked.

“Something worse than you can imagine,” suggested Cloudy, “Well, you might be able to imagine it, but I’d sooner not. Bad enough to know you’re going to come to some awful end without thinking about it beforehand.”

“I’m going to find Easy and Tangletongue,” Bandolier grunted, shuffling off away from the deck.

“That’s how it begins. Deserting your post. Then it’s breaking rank. Soon we’ll be fighting one another to the last pony!” Old Barebone exclaimed.

“Probably me,” said Cloudy, in a resigned tone.

Bandolier found a greater sense of urgency at the port side of the ship, where the younger colts were trembling in their boots. Scurvy had just arrived beside Sandbar and Silver Spar, and all their eyes were fixed on the foamy trail they left behind.

Bandolier ran up the stairs to the top deck, and found Scurvy hacking up some morning phlegm, glaring into the wind.

Bandolier spotted the ship, a black specter following their trail from miles and miles off. The ship was like a fly from that distance, hovering deathly still, inching their way.

“What are you doing here?” Scurvy growled. Bandolier ignored him, stealing a spyglass from the cabin boy, Barnacle, to take a closer look.

The galley had three masts, with sails as black as a starless sky, and a dark red hull. The ship’s figurehead was an alicorn mare with a sprawling mane, clutching a star in one hoof and a sword in the other. The figure seemed to be made of black iron, with shapely legs, a slender waist, and two blood pearls for eyes. The ship was lean and terrible, breaking the waves at a wicked speed. Bandolier could hear the faint beat of the oarmaster’s drum echo from twenty miles’ distance, and saw the ship’s oars rising and dipping.

“Took us unaware, did it?” Bandolier asked.

“He must have taken the Galway Strait by night, and today he hid himself in the mist,” Scurvy supposed.

“By Amphitrite, what can we do?” Spar said, “He’s got us by the hip.”

“Run like smoke,” Scurvy replied, glancing at Sandbar.

“We’ll have to bend every sail,” Sandbar said.

“String up your hoofkerchiefs, if need be,” Scurvy advised, “We must escape him.”

“Whose ship is that?” Bandolier demanded.

Scurvy glanced at him, and back to the sea ahead.

“I hope that horn of yours is working,” Scurvy laughed.

“Get to it, lads!” Sandbar barked, turning his attention to the deck, “All sails!”

The colts were quick to their work, scrambling up the rope ladders. They dropped the main sail first, and the other auxiliary sails soon after. Tightening and drawing the ropes, they fastened them taut, until the sails could catch the wind.

“Hold fast!” Scurvy roared, “The devil in a pony’s skin, that’s whose ship,” he continued, turning to Bandolier.

“Sir!” cried Sandbar from one of the ropes, half-strung up in the air, “Nineteen miles now!”

Scurvy wiped the sweat from his brow, and glanced over his shoulder.

“He’s been following us for some time,” Scurvy supposed, “Through the night, at least. Dimmed his lanterns so we might not have seen him. We don't have time to make chase until nightfall. His ship is faster by far, he’s proven it before.”

“Where’s the nearest port?” Bandolier asked.

“Nautilus, but we won’t make it there in time,” Scurvy said, “We have three hours or less, if the winds keep as they are. We’re deep in open water, there’s no tricks to play beyond what we can manage on our own. He won’t break course no matter how long we hold out. Likely he’s got a scent for what we’re carrying.”

“What’s your plan, then?” Bandolier demanded.

“Pray for rain,” Scurvy laughed, “He has us beat in speed, but this ship is well-suited for stormy sailing. A squall might buy us the time we need to reach nightfall, or even make it to port if the nymphs are feeling kind. No, but we can’t count on that. When we’re ready, we’ll have just enough time to come about and greet him in turn. The boys won’t last in a fight on deck, but they can manage the cannons well enough. We’ll batter his hull with iron and bury him in a watery grave. If they manage to board us, you and the marines will take care of them.”

“You seem to like our chances,” Bandolier asked, “Why haven’t you tried it before?”

“We didn’t have you before,” Scurvy grinned, “Those others might make do with some spells, but you said you’ve got some notches in your belt already. You’re worth ten of them, I think. Why do you think I fished you out of that puddle of shit?”

“The allure of friendship,” Bandolier grinned.

“Har! The truth is I had a dreadful premonition about this journey. Word reached me that the devil had come back to these waters, just in time for our voyage west. And then I cross paths with you … I can’t tell if the gods love me or spit on me. We can’t outrun him. No, there is nowhere to go but into the kraken’s jaws. Spar, ready the cannons. Fizzy, empty the armory. And Bandolier, keep the marines in order. Fear not, boy, the nymphs protect us. We will sink that ship of demons or we will die in the pursuit.”

She dreamt she sat on the royal throne, high above them all.

The courtiers were a collage of peacocks below. Great lords and ladies knelt before her, and bold young soldiers laid their swords at her hooves and begged for her favor.

Then her throne turned to a tangled mess of thorns and vines, biting into her flesh as she sat back. Blood ran down her legs. The more she struggled the more she was engulfed by the tendrils, tearing pieces of her flesh from her chest, carving up her legs until they were slick with blood. Sunset Shimmer’s laughter was still echoing in her ears when she awoke with a jolt. For a moment she thought the hoof on her shoulder had been part of her dream, but it was only Honey Bee.

Twilight had fallen asleep at her desk in her royal solar, and the servant girl had let herself in.

“Forgive me, your grace,” the girl stammered, “....The feast will be getting underway shortly.”

Twilight rubbed her eyes.

“Help me dress,” she commanded.

Honey Bee clambered to fetch and fix Twilight’s gown, which had been undone and laid about the bed after an exhaustive day of planning.

“Tighter. Cinch it tighter, you simpering little fool,” Twilight said.

It was the feast that enraged her, though the slow-witted servant made an easier target. Twilight’s hold on the throne was not secure enough for her to risk offending the Senate or the Azimuths. Not so long as the dragons held the south, so long as the Empire held the north. So Honey Bee would have to eat the meal Twilight would sooner serve to Veto and that wrinkled hag Azimuth. Both would be in attendance tonight, along with a vibrant host of mindless flatterers and duplicitous schemers.

Nor did Wedge help her mood when he turned up all in gold and still unshaven, to tell her how he had given an unsuccessful effort to compel Hawkbit to march his army east and confront the dragons.

Snow buried the palace, trapping them altogether right as the feast could begin.

Twilight stood in the foyer to the Great Hall, a glittering, gilded chamber of decadent chandeliers, tapestries, and priceless paintings. The adjacent ballroom was packed with nobles and aristocrats, fanning themselves and sipping on champagne, dressed up in officers’ uniforms and luxurious gowns.

When Twilight entered with Wedge at her side, the conversations became quiet, as ponies turned to smile and bow and watch.

A stallion Twilight did not recognize seemed to be drawing a crowd near the far end of the ballroom. He had a very short black mane, sunken eyes and shadowy stubble, and a coat of rosy-pink.

“Your majesty,” he called out when he met Twilight’s gaze. He made his way through the crowd to approach them, and the crowd fell in behind him, “It’s a rare thing to meet a pony who lives up to her reputation. I can see you are just as lovely as what everypony told me. Are you just as mad as they say, as well?”

“You are speaking to the Princess,” Wedge reminded, “Mind your tongue or lose it.”

“You’re very observant,” the stallion said, “I was speaking to her, yes. Not you. Are you a waiter or a bodyguard? Whatever you are, be good and fetch me and her majesty a drink.”

Wedge stared at him in disbelief, and was even more dumbstruck when Twilight glanced at him to relent.

“Get yourself something too,” she offered, before Wedge bitterly left the two alone.

“You know each other, I presume,” Twilight said, taking the black-haired stallion’s leg to walk along the ballroom floor.

“Regrettably,” the stallion said, before stealing a glass of champagne off a waiter’s tray, downing it in a single gulp, and placing it on a second waiter’s tray, “Where are my manners? I am Anatole, your majesty. Grand Admiral of the Belsavic Navy.”

“Belsavis? You’ve come a long way,” Twilight said, suspiciously.

“My Duke and Duchess refuse to enter the war, despite my best efforts. I convinced them to allow me to survey things, at least,” Anatole said, “They are cautious, yes, but do not wish to be oblivious to the world around them.”

“I would be glad to hold an audience with them, if you could arrange it,” Twilight said.

“I only make decisions when my stomach is full or my balls are empty,” Anatole replied.

Twilight smiled down at him, shaking her head in disbelief.

“In that case, I’m glad dinner is served,” Twilight said.

Anatole smirked at her. Wedge returned with the glasses, though Anatole soon waved him off.

“Have an extra for yourself, Stalwart,” Anatole grinned, “You’re in desperate need of it.”

Anatole bowed before Twilight, grinning all the while.

“We should speak later, your majesty,” Anatole said, before turning to join a new group of strangers.

Twilight glanced at Wedge, and raised an eyebrow.

“Stalwart?” she asked.

Wedge drank through his first glass of champagne.

“Stalwart Ward,” he admitted, “‘Wedge’ is from boot camp, after they found me drunk and stuck in a window.”

Twilight stifled her laughter.

“A window?” she asked, “How could you-”

He drank the other glass.

“Another time, your grace,” he laughed at himself and escorted her over to the dinner table in the other room.

On the long table in the Great Hall, the sixty-odd nobles took their seats, while powdered servants stood at attention behind them, ready to fulfill commands. Marius Moonshine was there, as was Featherglass and Bone Marrow. And on the other side of her was Veto and his Senate cronies, all chatting amongst each other. Anatole was at the far end, and would make sure to catch Twilight’s eye as often as he could between his adventurous tales and bawdy jokes. The six royal ministers were present, also; the Royal Ministries were subdivisions within the senate, meant to address particular areas of concern. There were once seven ministers, though Fancy Pants had taken an indefinite leave of absence. But the other six had arrived, to the astonishment of Wedge, who rarely saw more than two together at one time. Famously, none of the ministers liked one another. Though they all shared one belief that united them: a contempt for Twilight Sparkle.

Wedge sat beside her.

“Azimuth is not here,” Twilight noted to Wedge, “Neither are any of her retainers.”

“I was told she’s hosting her own event at the Hanging Gardens,” Wedge recalled, “A discourteous decision, yes, or perhaps just a bit of bad scheduling. At first I feared she’d left the city.”

“She will soon enough” Twilight presumed, “She expects this city to fall and all of us to die defending it. She may just get her wish.”

“The road to Canterlot is heavily defended,” Wedge pointed out, “And the dragons would have to cross Hawkbit’s front to reach us.”

“Hawkbit has shown his worth. Or rather, a lack thereof,” Twilight said to those in her proximity, “He will hardly be an obstacle for Cinder. We have to secure this city’s defenses, or else thousands will die. We will require scale-piercing range artillery to fill out the garrison, and shadowbound steel for sword and spear.”

“I will double our efforts, your grace,” came Bunsen Burner, the Science Minister.

“We’ll need several medical encampments at strategic spots all over the city, for both soldiers and civilians,” Twilight continued.

“I will handle it, your grace,” came Panic Prone, the Minister of Health.

“Cash Crop,” Twilight said, turning to the Minister of Agriculture, “Make use of our reserve stores and surplus pantries, and prepare to distribute rations. Gridlock, I want you to contact the Wonderbolts and the Rangers, and have them police the airways to prevent congestion and make sure supplies get to where they need to be.”

Gridlock, the Minister of Transportation, nodded his head.

Wedge scratched at his chin and shot a glance Twilight’s way. She noticed him and sat back in her seat, biting her lip.

“Forgive me, I shouldn’t be discussing all this here,” Twilight said.

“We are at war,” Wedge acknowledged, “But for one night, you should try to enjoy yourself, your grace.”

Twilight glared at him. Ponies were dying as they spoke even then, and yet he expected her to forget that and indulge the superfluous demands of royal court decorum. Twilight returned to her meal, ignoring Wedge.

Then a thought occurred to her, and she suddenly lost her appetite.

“Where is Archangel?” Twilight asked. The Defense Secretary was no fan of hers, it was true, though it was unlike him to be absent for an event such as this. That gluttonous ghoul could never shy away from a feast.

Marius glanced over his shoulder to make sure the others at the table were busy with their own conversations.

“Your grace,” Marius began, hesitantly, “I was going to wait until after this to tell you. For cause unknown, I regret to inform you that Secretary Archangel has fled the city.”

Twilight hardly batted an eye. She had expected Archangel to be the first to crack. The cement-headed brute was as much a coward as he was a moron, she had always known. These others might be soon to follow.

“He must have had good reason,” Wedge insisted, “He would never desert his post otherwise.”

“Where has he gone?” Twilight asked.

“Saddleopolis,” answered Marius, “He’s taken half of the legion with him, leaving the city even more vulnerable than before, I’m afraid. I have been informed that his intention is to turn Saddleopolis into his primary base of operations.”

“He won’t have any operations without the crown’s support,” Featherglass said. Twilight glared at him. Featherglass’ contempt seemed to come not from a place of loyalty, but rather disappointment in Archangel’s lack of strategy.

He wants a proper threat. All he has is me.

“He knows that,” Twilight countered, “He plans to get it, too. Just not from me. He will join with the Empire or with the Green Army, as soon as he gets the chance. Cadance has a claim to the throne as an alicorn and as a member of the royal nobility. The Greens will have a claim too, as soon as Azimuth marries her daughter to Blueblood’s successor, the new Warden of White Tower, Prince Heirloom.”

Wedge took a breath, disheartened by Twilight’s assessment.

“It’s not too late to amend that deal, your grace,” Marius advised, “That marriage pact gives the Azimuths an opportunity to seize the throne.”

“Without that pact we lose the Azimuths as allies. Without their grain shipments, Equestria will starve. We need that deal,” Twilight said, “They won’t be able to seize anything as long as we prevail against the dragons and have the strength to keep order. I don’t expect the Green Army to endure much longer, anyway. They may take High Water, but they will fall at Dodge City. The dragons will reach Canterlot, one way or another. That much I am certain of. And I plan on giving them a warm welcome.”

The last time she had visited the Belly of the Whale, she had gone by a different name.

Sweetie Drops, it may have been, or Gumdrop, or maybe Lollipop. Twenty names, twenty faces, some courtesans, some harlots, some vendors and merchants, but mostly nopony special at all.

Lyra never wanted to hear about any of that. All Lyra ever seemed to want was for things to stay simple and nice and pretty. No talk of the past. But the past did not share her attitude. She recalled the last time she had spoken the name aloud, almost a year now, kneeling in the snow in front of Twilight Sparkle.

And Lyra?

She never did get her answer, Bon Bon thought. Twilight might have smirked, or scowled, or laughed aloud, but Bon Bon could not recall. All she remembered was that no words came, but that those cold velvet eyes had made the truth clear.

She glanced into the assortment of empty glasses that decorated her table. There was movement around her, all a dizzy blur, but Bon Bon could hardly notice; she sat still in her seat, interested only in her own thoughts.

It might have been kinder for Lyra to have been killed. If Twilight did end up sparing Lyra, why else but to make her suffer? Bon Bon could wonder the same thing for herself. I should’ve slit her throat right then and there. Instead I sat there and cried.
A young boy neared her, scrubbing the floor with a wet brush.

“Have you ever visited the Canterlot Hall of Learning?” Bon Bon inquired, “Lyra always loved it there. She might be there. She might be looking for me.” The boy tossed his brush back in his bucket and took his leave. Tolerating drunken ramblings was part of his daily routine.

The wine made her head spin.

The Belly of the Whale was a crude collection of ponies from the darkest depths of Canterlot. She had first come prowling for information about that briefcase, though her thoughts had soon turned sour and now she wanted nothing more than to waste away in place.

There was a group of zebras a few tables over, ogling at her with wide grins and eyes that made her skin crawl. Luckily a gaggle of girls in fishnets came to her rescue, tossing along with the zebras until both parties had found themselves in such a frenzy that they had to take their camaraderie into the back rooms. Bon Bon remembered the velvet lining of those vestibules, and the taped-off holes in the talent boxes. She remembered the lipstick and the sweat and the smell, that salty-sweet stink of cum and heat and tears.

She might have remained there, even after all those years, if Lyra hadn’t found her. She hadn’t known what it was to feel that way she did about Lyra, not ever before. She was an object before, a tool, a piece of furniture, a plaything. It was Lyra who brought her to life. It was Lyra who held her close and told her that they would always be there for each other, that she didn’t have to be afraid of anything. Now all her fears had come true. The sun had set already, and nothing could replace it.

A pink wash of satin fabric and wavy blonde hair darted from around Bon Bon’s gaze, and she found the rough shape of a pony sitting opposite to her at the table.

Bon Bon blinked and blinked until she could see clearly, and when she did she could only laugh.

“Sweetie Drops?” the pony said, aghast.

“Dazzle,” Bon Bon smiled. The little orphan girl with the mud in her mane and broken nose had become a mare, a beauty at that. She had a magenta coat and huge curls of gold, deep blue, purple and pink, and she wore a hot-pink coat with matching pink leather boots.

“You remember me?” Dazzle said, shocked, and slightly embarrassed, “..So it’s true, you’re really back. Nopony thought you’d ever come back.”

Bon Bon’s eyes wandered around the room, where she could not recognize a single pony.

“I didn’t think so either,” Bon Bon said.

“The Bureau thinks you’re working with Sunset Shimmer. Is that true?” Dazzle asked.

“Unfortunately,” Bon Bon grunted. She hadn’t forgotten what happened in Ponyville. No, she thought, Better not to think about Ponyville.

Dazzle sat back in her chair.

“Let me guess. Jet Set’s hired you,” Dazzle said.

“He has,” Bon Bon confirmed, warily. She saw no reason to lie, “He’s a friend of yours?”

“Everypony’s his friend,” Dazzle laughed, “Without him I’d be just like how you left me. So would most of the ponies in here. He gave us another chance.”

Bon Bon winced. Second chances came rarely, and were even more rarely used for any good.

“I want to know about the briefcase,” Bon Bon said, “Who has it right now? Has it been sold yet?”

Dazzle shook her head.

“The caretaker’s name is Menteuse. She’s going to exchange the briefcase over to the changeling prince, Malthos, at his wedding to Silver Stream, for six million bits. Jet Set is getting most of that, in exchange for protecting Menteuse and setting her up a new life somewhere far from this mess. Jet’s planning on cleaning house, y’see. He’s getting tired of all his cronies’ shortcomings, and all these backstabbers and schemers trying to undermine him. So he’s pitting all of his employees against one another to get the case from Malthos somehow. That includes my Thieves, the Black Hoof, the new Underground and you. He’s using all of us to get him the case and the money too, and we’ll kill each other off in the process and give him a few less problems to deal with.”

“If that’s true,” Bon Bon said, “Then that wedding is gonna be a bloodbath.”

Dazzle nodded.

“Only one of us can be the one to claim the briefcase and hand it over to Jet Set. Whoever gets it to him will be in his good graces … but for whoever comes up short, they’re dead meat.”

“He’s only one pony,” Bon Bon said, “How can one pony have that much sway over the entire underworld?” Bon Bon asked.

Dazzle laughed.

“You’ve been gone too long, Sweetie. Things aren’t what they used to be.”

Bon Bon’s grip tightened on the table. Dazzle smirked, and rose up to her hooves. She trotted by Bon Bon, but stopped short to bend over and plant a kiss on Bon Bon’s cheek.

“Good luck, Sweetie Drops. The next time we meet, it won’t be as friends.”

As far as last meals went, he had little to complain about.

Bandolier sat alone in the galley, anxiously waiting for the horn to ring out from above and send him springing back up to his post. An hour had passed since the first sighting, and each minute meant their pursuer crept just a bit closer. He finished the rest of his roasted radishes, and downed a pint of pickle brine.

He had only been at sea for two weeks, and he doubted a bloody battle over the waves would make him start enjoying it. The Bronze Beauty had seen its last glimpse of home in Newport, in spite of the riots that had raged on for weeks on end. Still, the seaside rendezvous was a merry spot, with salted platters, aged brine and monastery beer, and sailors from here and there slipping along into surly swills and tall tales of beasts lurking beneath the waters.

Bandolier thought of those nights instead of allowing himself to sleep. The majority of his companions were not even half his age, yet they knew their way around a ship as if they lived their whole lives at sea. Some, in fact, had done just that. Scurvy had gathered a queer collection of orphans and cast-offs, from Equestria and beyond.

The South Lunar Sea had been merciful, however, and save for one mild nighttime storm soon after their departure, the waters were calm. They were sailing west to the Eris Peninsula, which jutted out from the far continent of Primaeva. Further north from the peninsula was the Lunar Bridge, which connected Primaeva to the continent of Centraea, which contained all of the lands of Equestria.

The Eris Peninsula was once a bastion of pony civilization, the origin of classical antiquity and countless legends of old. There sat the ruinous city of Equus, once the capital of the great Equian Empire, whose impact was still left on much of the civilized world, by memory of violent conquest. Inland on the peninsula was the Redwood Range; the mountainous region forced much of the attempts at settlement to stick to the coasts. And there, on the coasts, remained the last remnants of that ancient empire - the cities of Casaflanka and Nautilus. The latter was their destination.

“What’re you doing here?”

Bandolier’s eyes had been fixed out a porthole, watching the rosy fingers of the setting sun scratch at the sea. He glanced over his shoulder to discover Sandbar skipping down the steps, chewing on a lemon slice.

“Biding time. I never like to get into fights without some wine first, but there’s not a drop left on this ship,” Bandolier replied, regretting his lost moment of peace, “...Would you be wanting something?”

“Why is it I’ve always got to want something?” Sandbar laughed, before taking a seat on the other end of the galley, cracking his back and stretching out on the bench. “Cap’n says it’s almost time. Eight miles or less, now. He’s relying on you, y’know.”

“I can’t guarantee I’ll make much of a difference. Whoever this guy is, he’s got Scurvy spooked,” Bandolier said.

“Scurvy’s seen worse things than you have, so don’t pretend you’re any braver. Part of me thought you’d tuck tail and run in Newport, rob us and run away.”

“Is that so,” Bandolier yawned.

“What more should I expect from a downtrodden drunk?” Sandbar snickered.

“Don’t pick a fight with me today, boy. I haven’t slept a wink and if you keep at it, you’ll regret it.”

“That won’t work on me,” Sandbar smirked, “The others are all afraid of you. But not me.”

Bandolier snorted.

“You’re not like the rest of them, that’s true. They’re all scum picked off the street, but not you. You’ve got upper-boro Newport in your voice, and some bit of Seaward Shoals, too, but the north side, I think.”

Sandbar stumbled over his words.

“My dad’s from Seaward,” he said, incredulously, “How’d you know that?”

“What are you doing here?” Bandolier asked, ignoring him, “You’re young and have a family that could take care of you, and you throw it away to sail for a smuggler with so many crumbs in his beard he could be marooned and not go hungry for a month. Now we’re all like to die in some manic revenge quest.”

“Might be that I know what’s best for me better than you,” Sandbar said.

“You’re too young to know what’s best for you,” Bandolier laughed.

“I’d be surprised if you could remember what it’s like to be young,” Sandbar retorted, as his smile faded, “...Look, I didn’t exactly choose to be here. My folks thought it was a safe bet to get me out of the draft. They told me it was this or getting spit-roasted by the dragons. But my best friend is a dragon, I told them, and they’re not the way my folks say they are. They’re just like the rest of us, they’re good.”

“And what makes you think the ‘rest of us’are so good?” Bandolier laughed, “Ponies can be crueler than you know. Dragons, changelings, griffins, all the same.”

“You’ve got it backwards,” Sandbar spat, scrambling up from the bench, “Creatures like you are always trying to get us to turn against each other, to make us afraid, to make us doubt what we know is right. My friends and I have put up with it before, we’ve seen ponies at their worst.”

“And where are these friends now?” Bandolier asked.

Sandbar’s face crumbled, and his eyes fell to the ground.

“I lost them,” he said, his voice cracking, “They’re all a world away, while I’m stuck here…And the longer we spend apart, the easier it is to think that it won’t be the same if we ever got to meet again.”

Bandolier sighed and grunted up to his hooves. He trotted over toward Sandbar, who glared up at the stallion with a raw hatred.

Bandolier sat beside him with a heavy thud, and shot him a glance. A hard glance, and Sandbar felt his heart sink.

“Not everything’s always in your control,“ Bandolier said, gently, “Sometimes ponies do drift away. But sometimes, you’ve lived enough life with somebody that no matter how much time you spend apart, there’ll always be something there. You can’t be sure you’ve lost anything until it’s really gone.”

“How do you know that?” Sandbar asked.

“Because I know what it’s like to lose,” Bandolier said.

Sandbar’s glare softened, and he sat back down on the bench.

“I haven’t been much help,” Sandbar said, sheepishly, “Sorry for giving you a rough time.”

“It’s alright to be angry,” Bandolier said, rising to his hooves with an ache in his back, “Today you’ll have quite a few ponies to take everything out on, somepony besides me.”

“You really think it’ll come to that?” Sandbar asked, as Bandolier made his way to the stairwell.

“Our captain insists upon it,” Bandolier said, “So, Mr. First Mate … Let’s see if your bite can match your bark.”

The statue garden on Harmony Boulevard was a ruin of overgrown moss and sewage spill. Rain runoff and leaky pipes had flooded part of the courtyard, and the verdure itself was a tangled jungle of thorns and toxic fruits.

Silver Stream clung to Rainbow Dash like a lost dog. She did not recognize the others - one was twice the size of Big Mac, with a white-grey beard and pair of sharp eyes, and the other was a pegasus, with bright emerald eyes and a sad smile.

Silver had not gotten a proper chance to introduce herself, though it seemed they all knew her anyway. Rainbow had brought her aside from the others, not long after they came to this place, some forgotten little churchyard hidden behind rotting tenements and old brick factories.

“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” Rainbow asked, possibly for the fourth time.

“I’m OK. Really!I’m OK!” Silver assured.

“You should never have left home,” Rainbow muttered.

It wasn’t my choice, Silver thought, though she decided against throwing her own mother under the bus.

She wondered whether her mother knew she was alive. Maybe it would teach her mother a lesson to worry all day and night, as recompense for bringing her to this place.

“So, what are you doing in Canterlot?” Silver asked.

"It's a long story," Rainbow said. She would have said more, before the blonde pegasus approached them both.

“We need to talk,” he said. He smiled at Silver, though she did not feel at ease. She hadn't felt safe since the day she watched Cadance get arrested.

Rainbow left her where she was to join him, though not out of earshot. Silver perked up by one of the hedge bushes, listening in as the blonde pegasus lowered his voice. The giant was with them too, and another pony, a little fellow with a face of sharp edges.

“Soon we’ll be out of your mane, Speedy. Once our friend is content, we’ll send him on his way. And we won’t be far behind,” the giant said.

“You’re leaving Canterlot?” asked the little one, Speedy.

“Certainly. We’ll have a wedding to attend, and a debt to collect. Then perhaps the Black Hoof will reconsider their attitude towards us, and offer to make a transaction.”

“You don’t want to use the case,” Speedy realized, “Just resell it?”

“Its contents are a mystery,” Salt reminded, “Only its value is known. Our royal friend spent his six million already, except he bought a bride instead of a briefcase. So you see, we’re not thieves, as you so callously like to put it.”

Speedy laughed, amazed.

Silver, meanwhile, had turned to a ghost.

They’re going to give me back to Malthos, she realized, Rainbow Dash. You too?

“No way. Salt, once we get that case, we have to find out what it is, and keep it safe,” Rainbow countered.

Salt tried to open his mouth to offer his rebuttal, until a rustling of the leaves by the gate sent them all alert.

The giant drew his knife.

“Blondie, did you hear that?” Salt muttered, “Go check it out.”

“You go check it out. I’m not going over there," Blondie whispered.

“I suppose if the pony over there was going to kill us, he wouldn’t be waiting so politely in the dark, would he?”

Blondie glared at Salt, who was grinning.

“Unless it was some trick to get us to go closer, to lower our guard,” Blondie countered.

“Yes, unless that was the case. But, dare I say, I have a keen sense of judgment for these things.”

“You’re right, we all know what a famous liar you are,” Blondie laughed.

“Only the dishonest ponies live as long as I do, Blondie. If it was me who’d been sent to kill a pony, I wouldn’t let a garden gate stop me, and I wouldn't be standing there while my would-be victims stood here debating.”

Blondie thought for a moment, and finally acquiesced. He marched around another part of the hedge and approached the garden gate. There was a silence, followed by Blondie returning back around with a shrug.

“It’s nothing,” Blondie said, dismissively. Then he felt the cold steel of a butcher’s knife gliding against the scruff of his neck.

Blondie spun around, and he recognized the pony instantly, by that purple vest and black suit, that faded soft-white coat and a wisp of sandy tan hair. But what stuck out the most was that gaping chasm where the pony’s left eye should have been.

“You,” Blondie said, surprised.

“Me. Who else?” the One-Eyed Pony laughed, “Put that knife down, Salt, I was only kidding."

Blondie back towards the others, while the One-Eyed Pony sheathed his own weapon. Salt did the same.

“How did you find us?” Blondie demanded.

“I spoke with the pony who manages the guestlist at the Andromeda. I inquired about a stunning pegasus mare with dyed blonde hair and her husband with the emerald eyes. Somepony slipped some names into the book, and that somepony turned out to be a pony called Speedy. I expect that would be you.”

Speedy gulped, though Salt took a step forward, aggressively.

“You helped us escape the Andromeda,” Salt recalled, “Why?”

The One-Eyed Pony's eye darted towards Blondie.

“The pony I work for has taken an interest in you, ever since your…strange manner of coming into power in Manehattan. You murdered Trench, an associate of ours. It’s only fair that you carry on Trench’s responsibilities. You want to make your fortune off that briefcase? My employer's the richest pony in Equestria. It's him you want.”

Blondie glanced at Salt, warily.

“I will take you both to my employer, and you can decide for yourself how to proceed. But know that this deal you’ve made with the changeling will draw more enemies toward you than ever before, and you certainly won’t be the only interested parties attending that wedding. But come with me, and you’ll have the right friend by your side to send them all scattering back into the crevices they came from.”

More rustling came from the other side of the garden, though this time Salt was not alarmed, not after he heard a three-tone whistle cry out from over the hedge.

“Rainbow,” Blondie said, nodding towards her, “Handle it. It’ll be easier if it’s you. We’ll take care of this.”

Rainbow winced, and nodded, solemnly. She left them there and trotted back around the hedge to find Silver, who quickly had to pretend that she hadn’t been eavesdropping.

“Silver,” Rainbow said, glancing down at her.

The rustling from the other side of the garden grew louder, and Silver heard one, two, three or more voices muttering in the brush.

“Silver, listen to me,” Rainbow said, kneeling down beside Silver, “...I know you heard all that. Right?”

“Don’t do it,” Silver whispered, frantically shaking her head, “Please, I was close, I can….Rainbow! You-...I….”

“Silver,” Rainbow said, jostling her by the shoulders, “I’m going to come back for you. Do you hear me? You have to be brave. You have to do this now so that more ponies don’t die for no reason. I’ll get you out of this. I promise.”

Silver finally lifted her gaze from the ground, and she tried her best to stop herself from crying.

"Do you trust me?" Rainbow asked.

Silver was not sure.

"Yes," she lied. Rainbow nodded, just as the changelings arrived from around the hedge, and first among them was Prince Malthos himself. When he saw Silver, he snarled in dismay.

“There she is,” Malthos growled in his shrill voice, “You thought you could make a fool out of me, huh? Here, let me make sure it’s really you this time.”

He lunged towards her, though Rainbow interceded, stepping between them.

“If I see even a scratch on her at that wedding, you’re dead,” Rainbow warned. Malthos hissed in reply. There were eight changelings with him, and one of them seemed to be a higher-ranking soldier of some kind.

“My prince, we should go,” said one of the changelings.

“You’re going to honor the deal,” Rainbow said, coldly.

“Once we’re wed, Brandy will give me the case, and I'll give the case to you. Simple as that,” Malthos recalled.

Rainbow glanced at Silver, who was trembling from head to claw.

Be brave. Be brave. She’ll come back. She promised.

She shut her eyes when she took the first step towards Malthos, and she did not have to see the prince’s wicked, ghastly grin.

Soft came dusk at sea, leaving behind the echoes of lovers’ laughter, ringing steel belt-buckles and rustling lace. A golden hearth burned over the far-away blue, and deeper into the sky turning orange, then red, then blue again. And the sea itself turned purple and red and gold again, while overhead, the evening star started slipping off back into the void.

Bandolier’s memories of Newport broke apart in his mind with the first blast of the horn, startling awake Easy and sending Old Barebone into a trembling fit.

The red kraken vessel was less than a mile away, and the oarmaster’s beating had turned into a storming of cavalry hooves.

“Cut the ropes and grapples, and smash the ladders, and do it all before you move for a single foe,” Bandolier advised, “Keep them to the edges. Let them clutter and crowd each other, it will make my work easier. Barebone will have the nets. Tangletongue, you’ll be below deck with the boys, just in case any one of the cunts makes it below somehow.”

“As you say,” Tangletongue said, hurrying off to the stairwell.

“We’re close to coming about,” Bandolier said, “Get to your posts, I’ll join you soon.”

Cloudy lingered for a moment while Barebone and Easy left the center dock.

“If I should die, don’t bury me at sea. I’m a terrible swimmer, y’see. The other corpses would laugh at me,” Cloudy said.

“You have my word,” Bandolier grinned, “Try to remember the plan.”

“No fear on that account,” Cloudy said, “My memory is terrific. I wish I remembered less, in fact.”

Bandolier found Scurvy up by the wheel, surrounded by Sandbar, Spar, and the third mate, Humble Pie. The ship had only just begun to turn, Bandolier realized, while the red kraken behind them gained and gained. He could hear the voices of its crew, shouting and jeering away. Scurvy had left Silver Spar at the wheel, while he was busy surveying the distance they had left.

“We should have turned by now,” Bandolier said, “They’re nearly on top of us!”

“He’s not going as fast as he can. That ship will catch us in a bind if we take our time to turn. There’s only one way,” Scurvy said, “All hooves brace! Kiddo’s first clubhaul is never pretty!”

“What are you-” Bandolier began.

“Weight anchor!” Scurvy yelled.

On the main deck, Fizzy and Barnacle threw their backs against the great cog at center deck, and the anchor loosened from its hold.

Below water, the anchor dragged against the dirt as the Bronze Beauty sped on.

The anchor found a hold on some jagged rock in the depths, and up above on the ship the rope came taut.

Bandolier saw where the rope led, down by the quarter. Halfway between the stern and the beam.

The ship rocked with a considerable force, sending tables crashing to the floor, spilling vials of ink and candles, and sending all of the crew tumbling towards the starboard side.

The ship broke upwards against the waves, tethered to that rock beneath the water, and, with its momentum, began spinning to its right.

“Boy, let go!” Scurvy yelled.

Spar complied, releasing his grip of the wheel, which began spinning wildly in place.

The ship hauled itself against the draw of the rope, and by the time it came about, Spar had his hooves back on the wheel, and the colts below raised the anchor with all due haste.

“Mr. Bandolier, off with you,” Scurvy said, “Sandbar, give the order when in range.”

Sandbar nodded his head, too terrified to speak, and ran off to the stairwell to get below deck.

Bandolier found Cloudy, Easy, and Old Barebone down on the main deck, all of them with ignited horns, crouching behind the rail.

“Fast approach!” yelled Scurvy from above.

Down below, Sandbar ran past the rows of cannons peering out through slots in the hull, until he found his own post, far near the stern.

He stuck his head close to the rotting wooden slot, gaping out at the open sea. All until the sea was obscured by that bloody red and black.

“Keep her steady!” Scurvy yelled at Spar as he too made his way to the main deck, clutching an ax between his teeth.

Below deck, the colts could see their mirrors from that bloody red hull, where orders of cannons greeted them in turn, handled by a ravenous pack of mongrels and monsters. Snarling creatures with bulging eyes and sharpened teeth roared back at them from across the narrow waters, as all sides held off from lighting their fuses, waiting until the ships could come into proper adjacency.

The colts screamed right back at them, though Sandbar found himself a mute. The blood seemed to have drained from him completely, and he felt cold all over.

Above deck, Bandolier stood by his crouching companions and the other colts who remained there, and could finally make out the faces of his enemy. A gruesome bunch they were, with glittering earrings and muscly builds, with black beards and teeth that were brown with old blood.

Bandolier’s horn ignited, and his companions at last rose up beside him.

He could count at least forty above deck, which meant ten for each of them.

Bandolier felt the low rumbling beneath his hooves, and then a sudden stillness of the boat. The rats had quit scurrying, the boards had quit creaking, and the rusty groan of the lanterns drew silent.

“Now!” Scurvy yelled.

“Fire!” replied Sandbar from below, who heard the captain’s cry clear as day.

The fuses were lit, and the pillows of white smoke came erupting from their spouts, behind the iron meteors that came splintering through wood and metal and bone.

Bandolier lit all of the fuses above deck with a single spell, and could keep his eyes open long enough to see a part of the other ship’s hull come bursting into pieces, and a pony come tumbling off into the waters, screaming bloody murder.

Without delay, Bandolier reloaded the cannons with another spell, and meant to light the fuses, until he heard a sharp crack cry out from near his head. He flew off his hooves with the burst of fire and shrapnel that followed, when the second mast began to teeter and splint. Bandolier landed on his head, and his hearing was slow to return, as he coughed out all of the black smoke that had filled up his lungs.

The cannons kept pounding, careless to the cries. Both hulls were battered and beaten to shreds. Below deck, Sandbar had to jump down from his post to avoid the cannonball that came springing out right through his peerhole.

The guns came next, along with the spells that Bandolier had taught to his marines. Old Barebone was missing, and so were the nets, but Cloudy and Easy were not far away, levying shot after shot at the smoking ruin of the enemy ship.

Ladders and ropes launched out from the galley, and Easy was the first to greet them at the rail, just as Bandolier had said. He would not remain there long, however, when he came apart in two halves. Blood ran with the spray of the sea as Bandolier shoved his way forward, dodging the swing of an ax to blast a hole through the skull of Easy’s killer. He cut open some wily bearded kirin next, and then a yellow-eyed diamond dog who wielded a spiked mace.

Bandolier ran to the first ladder and blasted it to pieces, along with all of the ropes, but before he could manage the rest he felt the wind escape him, when a pegasus stallion with a squid-like helmet on his head threw a mailed fist into his gut. The squid-headed stallion battered in Bandolier’s face with a single punch, and grabbed him by the throat, throwing him down against the railing so hard that his back gave an audible crack.

Bandolier grunted and ignited his horn, but the stallion was quicker, grabbing him by the horn and smashing his head down against the rail, once, twice, three times, until his face was purple pulp.. Then he grabbed Bandolier by the waist too, and threw him right off the railing.

The cloud of smoke took him, and then the water. He sprang up from the waves, swinging his legs madly to stay afloat as the shockwaves of the cannonshots made his head split apart.

He wiped the salt from his eyes and clawed along through the water, until he latched onto the hull of the Bronze Beauty. Above, he heard the rushing of hooves across the ladders, and he made haste to pull himself out of the water.

He found a spot in the hull wide enough to climb through, landing right atop poor young Barnacle, whose face had been crushed by a cannonball.

In the belly of the ship, most of the colts had fled their posts to join the battle up above deck. All except for Sandbar, who Bandolier found covered in smoke and dirt, trembling in the corner.

Bandolier rolled his shoulder to beat down the pain in his back, and trudged over to Sandbar.

“Are you hurt?” Bandolier asked, grabbing Sandbar to inspect him. The boy’s cuts were covered in dust and dirt, “Stop shaking. Get up.”

Sandbar would not meet his gaze.

“The ship’s lost,” Bandolier said, “Hull’s flooded, masts are all snapped.”

Sandbar tried his best to hide his quivering lip.

“Under the table,” Bandolier muttered, pointing towards one of the overturned tables in the corner.

Sandbar glanced at him, ashamed and confused.

“I’ll bury the stairway. They’ll think you’ve drowned. Climb out and signal for rescue when it’s all done,” Bandolier advised, “Ships will see the fire. The ship will take a long time to sink. If the fires get worse, stick close by the wreck on some driftwood and wait for someone to sail by. Don’t drink the seawater, no matter what. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

Sandbar shook his head, frantically, though Bandolier had a hoof on his shoulder.

“You….I can’t-” Sandbar stammered, “I’m going with you.”

“No. You’re going to live,” Bandolier said.

Sandbar shut his mouth before he could sputter off his grievances, and with a trembling frown, he scurried off to the table.

The rabble had died down above deck, and Bandolier wondered how long he would have to remain idle as he was.

He heard hoofsteps coming down the stairs, and he ignited his horn once more.

Torches lit the walls of the throne room, beside the great panels of stained glass and the great marble columns.

Two ponies stood before the steps of the throne: Page Turner, the Minister of Education, and Touchdown, the Minister of Culture and Media.

“Marius. Tell our friends what you told me yesterday,” Twilight said, glaring at Touchdown all the while.

Marius Moonshine, who stood near the throne alongside Bone Marrow, Captain Venger and Wedge Ward, cleared his throat.

“A mob of peasants gathered around a theatrical demonstration in the Orange Light District two nights ago,” Marius began, “The play in question depicted her grace in a….er, compromising position, in which she was violated by a…..dragon’s spiked member. The performers were also heard using the words tyrant, witch, and murderer.”

“Did you know about this?” Twilight asked, glaring at Touchdown with an icy glare.

“I-Of course not!” Touchdown sputtered, “That’s abhorrent! Distasteful! And an act of treason!”

“Every local theater is subject to royal regulation, is it not?” Twilight asked.

“Yes, of course, but there are sometimes mistakes, that -” Touchdown began.

“Either you knew about this horrid performance and allowed it to happen, or you neglected your duty and remained oblivious to it all. So tell me, are you a traitor or a fool?”

Veto stood further behind the ministers, and scratched at his throat, anxiously.

“I….Your grace, please,” Touchdown stammered, trembling in his seat.

“Perhaps both, then. Captain!” Twilight exclaimed.

Wedge took a step forward.

“Take him to the dungeons. Touchdown, I am relieving you of your duties,” Twilight said.

“N-No! Please! Princess! Mercy!” he wailed, while Wedge grabbed him roughly by the foreleg.

Touchdown’s pleas could still be heard from down the hall, even after Wedge had shut the door behind her.

Twilight’s eyes turned to Page Turner, who had turned as pale as milk.

“Now you can’t claim to be unaware of the misinformation and sedition that have taken hold of this city, yes?” Twilight asked.

“Y-Yes, your grace,” Page Turner said, “Y-Your grace wishes to make use of me?”

Twilight smiled.

“Yes,” Twilight said, “Nothing beyond your area of expertise. All I ask is for you to educate the ponies of Canterlot regarding who it is that keeps them safe from harm.”

Page Turner’s mouth fell open for a moment, but she quickly came to her senses and nodded, slowly.

“H-How quickly do you expect results, your grace?” she asked.

“Before our enemies are at our gates and ponies decide they want somepony else to rule over them, after all,” Twilight said.

Page Turner rose to her hooves, as relief came over her, realizing she was not about to be sentenced to the dungeons as Touchdown had been.

“I will not fail you, your grace,” Page Turner said, before scurrying off all the way down the hall, out the throne room.

Twilight could feel Veto’s glare beating up at her.

“The Senate is not supposed to serve as your propaganda department, your grace,” Veto said, unhappily.

“The Senate serves as I require it to serve,” Twilight corrected, “Venger, escort Veto back to his chambers. You have much work to do, Mr. Veto.”

Venger left her post to lead Veto out of the chamber, though Veto remained for a few moments, grinding his hooves against the floor. Eventually he relented, rising to join Venger out through the door.

When the door was shut, Twilight glanced between Marius and Bone Marrow.

“Archangel will not be the last to betray your trust, your grace,” Marius said, “I would be wary of that one.” He glanced to the door where Veto had left.

“I am aware. Luckily we will soon have a new Speaker of the Senate,” Twilight said.

Marius narrowed his eyes.

“What have you done?” Marius asked.

“Tonight Venger is going to be found in his bedchamber. I’ve compensated her dearly. That pathetic old goat won’t be able to take his hooves off of her. I will have Wedge walk in on them in the act, and subsequently Veto will be impeached on the grounds of violating the code of ethics he swore to uphold upon entering his office,” Twilight said, “He’s married after all, with children too. The Senate will have no choice but to turn against him, unless they wish to suffer the wrath of Canterlot’s newest order of religious zealots.”

“Zealots? What are you talking about?” Bone Marrow asked.

“They’re closer to a cult than how her grace put it,” Marius interjected, “I’m surprised you’ve heard about them, Princess. They’ve kept a low profile these past few months.”

“That’s their strategy, the fanatic fools,” Twilight said, “The Children of the Sun, they call themselves. The ‘true disciples of Celestia’s teachings.’ It’s their belief that the government, and me by extension, has betrayed Celestia’s legacy. They may seem benign now, but they’ll rise from the gutters to take what they want as soon as they can.”

“If they’re so dangerous,” Bone Marrow said, “Why give them power? Superstitious radicals should not be underestimated.”

“If I butcher them, they’ll become martyrs. The common ponies love them, they listen to their insufferable sermons every day in the streets. We have to work with the Children, but keep them powerless to get in our way,” Twilight said, “We will begin with Veto. It is only a matter of time before he leaves to join Archangel, and Equestria will be even further divided.”

“And what of Archangel?” Marius asked, “The last thing we need is another army surrounding our walls.”

“I have a plan for that. Prickly!” Twilight exclaimed to Prickly Pear, the guard on duty by the great oak doors, “Send them in.”

Marius and Bone Marrow both turned to the doors, which creaked open to reveal a pair of ponies dressed in navy blue cloaks and pointed hats. Bone Marrow managed to contain his laughter.

Marius glanced at Twilight.

“Servants of the Mage Corps?” Marius said, “Princess….this is a mistake.”

Twilight ignored him. The Mage Corps were an ancient order of sorcerers, founded by Star Swirl himself. They used to be a mighty fighting force, now they spent most of their time staring into their seeing stones and drinking pink elixir. Twilight intended to change that.

“Marius. Dr. Marrow. Leave us. Prickly, stand guard outside,” Twilight commanded.

By the time the others were all gone, the two mages arrived before the throne, and both fell to their knees.

“Hail, Tyr Turai!!” they exclaimed in unison.

Twilight gestured for them to rise.

“Your names?” Twilight asked the pair.

“This one has the honor to be Chevalier,” said the stallion, “And this is Bubblegum Bliss, my sister mage.”

“Be welcome,” Twilight said, “I trust you’ve heard the news about Secretary Archangel.”

“The messiah will suffer betrayers day after day,” said the mare, Bubblegum Bliss, “It is written.”

“Archangel was ever the devil’s creature,” Twilight said, “Insolence unpunished breeds rebellion. Archangel has taken half my army with him, and I need them returned.”

Chevalier snorted.

“Oh, radiant one, you do not require an army to prevail. You will be the one to deliver us from the darkness, army or not,” he said.

Bubblegum nodded along. “It is written.”

“It’s not for my sake I’ve summoned you here,” Twilight said, “It’s for all the ponies who will suffer if we allow this urchin to run rampant. My loyal friends, I put my honor in your hooves….but I am afraid.”

“Say on, Goddess,” said Bubblegum Bliss, “We live to serve you.”

Twilight stepped off her throne to descend down the steps, and gave Chevalier’s hoof a squeeze.

“I…I would sleep more soundly if I were to hear that Secretary Archangel had suffered a….a mishap of some kind,” Twilight said.

Chevalier considered this for a moment.

“A…mortal mishap?” he asked.

No, I only want him to crack a nail. Twilight had to restrain herself. My enemies surround me and my only friends are fools.

“I beg you, do not make me say it,” Twilight whispered.

“I understand,” Chevalier said. This one is as dull as dirt. “Our order is forbidden to take a life. But any act done in the service of the messiah is good and holy. It will be done.”

“You are a true mage indeed, my friend,” Twilight said, “Do it quickly, if you can. I trust you can handle Archangel’s soldiers, but give him time and they may overwhelm you. I shall never forget this, friends. I will get your order better funding when this is all settled. I pay my debts.”

The rest was wine and buttered beets, hot herby bread, and peach pie. Twilight did not even mind the company, though Bubblegum tittered and Chevalier boasted of his prowess, from first course to last. It was past midnight before she could rid herself of the pair. Star Swirl’s legacy. That was what they called themselves. Sycophants and fanatics, almost as insufferable as the Children of the Sun, obsessed with their prophecies and visions. All would serve a purpose, she thought. She had her reins wrapped around a nest of blood-hungry vultures, all eyeing her with the same goal in mind. Try as they might, Twilight knew how their stories all would end. Serving her every whim, or else left as dust beneath her hooves.

The changeling king arrived at Aquila attended by a dozen changeling praetorians, warriors of noble birth who had seen too few molts to serve in the pristine Old Guard. They made for a pretty portrait, the proud king in his dark green tunic surrounded by the soldiers clad in sleek green armor.

Shining Armor welcomed them warmly, then summoned Dew Drop to see that the changeling soldiers were fed and entertained while he shared a private supper with the king.

Lady Primrose was waiting for them in the otherwise empty feast hall. The old mare gave Pharynx a wary look, but made all the basic pleasantries required of her. Pharynx, however, could hardly humor them with a smile. He seemed to tower over them at times, lurching and leering and looking over his shoulder. There were thousands of years of bad blood between the Empire and the changelings. Thorax and Cadance may have been able to restore peace between them, but now Thorax was dead and Cadance….

Shining could not let himself think of Cadance. He would see her again, he would tell himself. Why else had he started this war?

The cooks had prepared them a magnificent meal of honeyed hay, fragrant with crushed mint and served with the small green figs that Shining knew Pharynx liked.

The three of them were all careful with their words, and none yet had the courage to broach the true subject of their meeting.

“How kindly have these civilians taken to you turning their town into a war camp?” Thorax asked halfway through the dinner.

“Mayor Glover assured us that his ponies want to help as much as they can,” Primrose answered, “We’ve made an effort not to be too much of a burden.”

Pharynx waned, and set his utensils down.

“The entire North is behind us now. The south has gone up in dragonflame. Canterlot is weak,” Shining Armor said, grimly, “Our common enemy is vulnerable.”

“Enemies, friends, who can say which is which anymore?” Pharynx growled, “Thorax had ambitions, and he died because of it. I am concerned only with one thing - the Hive. I owe you nothing. I owe your wife nothing.”

“You don’t have faith in our cause?” Shining asked.

“Thorax had faith. I have reason. Together we would have the numbers, yes. But your sister’s power is too great, even for us. With Cadance, we may have stood a chance. But now?” Pharynx shook his head, “I have the hippogriff girl. Once my son marries her, I’ll have the hippogriff fleet as well. I could wait out the war, watch as your family destroys itself.”

“And if Twilight prevails? What then?” Shining said, “She won’t forget what you’ve done. This is the only chance we’ll ever have to stop her. Have you forgotten your brother?”

“I’ve forgotten nothing,” Pharynx snapped, “I won’t make the same mistakes Thorax did. If you want us to make common cause, I will need something more than words.”

“And what might that be?”

“Not what. Whom,” Pharynx said, glancing at Primrose, “Your son is now the Frost Prince, yes? Since your lord husband died?”

Primrose’s face darkened at the changeling’s bluntness, but she nodded.

“My son Malthos will have the hippogriff. And my daughter Elytra will have the Frost Prince,” Pharynx said, “These are my terms. Take them, or fend for yourselves.”

Shining Armor quickly shot Primrose a glance, but did not have time to measure her expression.

“Allow us some time to discuss it,” Shining Armor said.

Pharynx scoffed and ground his teeth, but relented and took his leave of the feast hall.

When he was gone, Primrose gave a trembling sigh of contempt.

“This is madness. Who does he think he is? I won’t give up my only son to a changeling.”

“You have two sons, my lady,” Shining said, recalling Orion, who had been sent by Primrose to join the Northern Rangers rather than join Broadwing’s campaign. Shining had not understood her decision; the more unicorns on the front lines, the better.

Primrose’s eyes flashed red.

“That one is no son of mine,” Primrose muttered, “Broadwing will not accept this. He doesn’t even know the girl, this changeling princess.”

“No pony can compel another to marry, it’s true,” Shining said, “But sometimes, in situations such as ours, we have to make sacrifices. It might seem cruel now, but who knows? He might learn to love the girl.”

“He will have a hard time of it, if she’s anything like her father. Or her sniveling little brother, who had to kidnap his bride in order to wed her,” Primrose said, “The decision is Broadwing’s, and the command is yours. But I do not trust the changelings, even if one of them should become my daughter-in-law. They care not for virtue or vows, not for honor or glory or loyalty. All they know is selfishness and survival. A marriage pact will buy you troops, but it won’t change their ways.”

Primrose stood up from the table, and smoothed out her dress.

“Now you must excuse me, my prince,” Primrose said.

Shining remained as he was, waiting to hear the door to the feast hall slam shut before he could let out a deep sigh. If Cadance really was dead, perhaps he would have to marry again too, he thought. Primrose must have thought him a great fool, trusting the changelings. I trust their self-interest, he should have said. They will remain loyal as long as the Empire keeps winning battles.

The door opened again, and for a moment, Shining thought Primrose had returned with news, but it was only Dew Drop.

“Pardon, my prince,” she said, with those tired doe-eyes and that soft smile. Dew Drop had always been Cadance’s favorite of the royal family’s guards. “There’s a visitor here to see you.”

Shining gave her a questionable look. Then his confusion turned to shock, when Lavender, the Lady of Silkwood, waltzed in behind Dew Drop, her purple silky gown billowing out behind her.

She gave a curtsy and smirked up at the prince with eyes that made his blood run hot.

Shining rose from his seat.

“Leave us,” Shining said to Dew Drop, who obeyed.

Lavender glanced around the room wordlessly.

“Haverford, Starhaven, Helios and Venutia, the North Highlands and the Frozen Shore,” Shining said, “All of the Highlands have joined us, all except for you.”

“You might have begun with a hello, but I suppose fighting a war takes its toll on one’s social decorum,” Lavender cooed, “A pity. You used to be so gallant, especially at all those balls and court formals, I remember. Once, you were a maiden’s fantasy. Now look at you, our fearsome crystal prince. You look as though you haven’t slept for days.”

“Why have you come here, Lavender?” Shining demanded.

“I come in peace,” Lavender said, raising her dainty hooves as if to say she was no threat.

“I asked why, not how.”

“I’ve just come from Canterlot,” Lavender said, “I had a very interesting chat with your sister.”

Shining Armor hesitated. All he ever heard about Twilight were rumors and soldiers’ gossip. She’s gone completely mad. Executing ten prisoners a day.

“About what?” he asked.

“About my promotion,” Lavender giggled, “It was all a delightful ruse, in truth, for both of us. She listened to me make my propositions for peace between the crown and the Empire, all while she planned to arrange another attempt on my life, that very same day. She seems to have no shortage of cutthroats in her employ. I suspected Twilight would try something, and my guards took care of the assassin. Well, I should say they’re still taking care of the assassin, if the poor boy is still alive. Twilight will keep trying, I expect, until she’s rid of me for good.”

“And what did you get out of this, besides providing my sister with an afternoon’s annoyance?” Shining asked.

“I was speaking to Twilight, but it wasn’t her who I wanted to listen. There were others in that council chamber who have begun to notice the change in the winds. There are many who think the Empire and its allies will prevail against Twilight and restore order to Equestria. Everyday, more and more ponies in the palace turn against her, they’re just too afraid to speak out. I made it clear that I could be the one to protect them. Secretary Archangel wasted no time to make his position clear, he’s already left Canterlot with half of the First Division, and has staked himself out in Saddleopolis, ready to join you once you make it south.”

Shining raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve given me half the First Division?” he said, “And you’ll be wanting something in return, I expect.”

“If Stonehoof should fall in the war, name me the Wardeness of Haverford,” Lavender said, “As well as the princess regent of the Crystal Empire, till your daughter comes of age.”

Shining almost had to laugh.

“So you can assassinate me and my daughter and take the crown for yourself? You forget that I know you for what you are,” Shining said.

“War has made you paranoid,” Lavender waved off, “I would never harm my own kin, least of all Flurry. I adore that girl. Know that if she was mine, I wouldn’t have left her alone in that freezing castle to go fight a war.”

“You think I’m happy that she’s away from me?” Shining said, “She might be all I have left. The only reason I’m doing this is Cadance.”

Lavender’s smile returned, and it made Shining uneasy. She took two steps closer towards him.

“Cadance….” Lavender smiled, “My favorite cousin. Blessed with a brain, blessed with grace, blessed with a pretty face…a face that launched an entire empire into war. I wonder how pretty that face is now, after what Twilight’s done to her…”

Shining felt his heart skip a beat.

“What do you know?” Shining demanded, “What did Twilight tell you?”

Lavender giggled. She traced her hoof across Shining’s chest.

“You might win the war. You might even defeat Twilight. But you won’t get Cadance back. She’s gone, my prince. There’s a slim chance she made it out somehow, but…you know your sister. Nothing escapes her. You would be wise to keep this knowledge to yourself, or else your entire army may lose itself to grief. I am sorry, my prince, I really am.”

Shining could feel himself trembling, and he had to steady himself, before he was caught off guard by Lavender’s grasp.

“She might be gone, but her memory will endure,” Lavender said, “Take time to grieve. Then take revenge on your betrayers. I’ll do whatever necessary to help you do it. I loved Cadance more than life. But…I will admit, I was jealous of her, too. How she was prettier than me, how she was smarter than me, how she got to marry you, I…Forgive me, I shouldn’t…”

Shining was too stunned to quite react, when Lavender lifted herself up to the tips of her hooves to plant a kiss on Shining’s lips. She persisted even as Shining remained deathly still, pawing at his mane and sloppily making love to his mouth. His eyes met hers, and he felt the tears in the corners of his eyes. For a moment, Lavender resembled Cadance, and he found all of his sorrow had disappeared in an instant.

“My prince,” she whispered, “I won’t ever leave you like she did. I’ll be good, I’ll be yours.”

Shining, with a shaky hoof, reached around her back to return her kiss, and they quickly began clawing at each other like animals, biting and kissing and feeling every part of the other.

But eventually Shining broke away, abruptly, leaving Lavender a panting mess, glaring at him with wide eyes.

“You can have what you want,” Shining said, “Except this. I love Cadance. I only love Cadance.”

Lavender hesitated, before smiling, softly.

“I understand, my prince,” Lavender said, “Know that my heart is yours, anyway. I'll protect Flurry with my life.”

Shining sighed and gripped the table. He glared at her.

“You’re sure Archangel will join us?” Shining demanded.

“Him and many more, I’ve made sure of it,” Lavender smiled, “Now you musn’t need look so glum. I may have just won you the war.”

The deck of the Kraken’s Kiss ran rank with fresh blood. Fizzy was still leaking from the gash in his throat. He’d twitch and tremble on the floor, but couldn’t make much more of a fuss; the wound had severed his vocal chords.

Beside Bandolier was Scurvy, whose beard was matted in blood, whose head had been half-cracked open by a metal club. There was Silver Spar and Humble Pie too, and Old Barebone and Cloudy. The other survivors had been stowed away in the bowels of the ship.

The crew of the Kraken’s Kiss were bastards and mongrels. Beasts black as tar stared out at him, and others squat and hairy as the wild ponies of the tropics. Monsters, Bandolier thought. Some were hunchback brutes, and others lanky wiry things with pale scaly skin. Some were covered in tattoos, and many had dark coats with glittering purple eyes. There were red-bearded kirins and slithering changelings, gorgons and dragons, diamond dogs, hippogriffs, kelpies and bats. Ponies from Equestria, Farasi and Hakoda, cats from Abyssinia, and ponies from Maneighlia, Xiaoma, and Thrace.

The six prisoners knelt at center deck, watching as they left the burning husk of the Bronze Beauty to slowly sink into the sea.

Sandbar might have escaped the fire, Bandolier thought. He could cling to the driftwood, he could find help. Or perhaps he sank with the ship.

Old Barebone was trembling right beside Bandolier, and kept his eyes fixed on the ground. Cloudy bit at his lip, and would share a glance with Bandolier every now and then. Silver and Humble, who were only boys, each had tears in their eyes. The smell of rotting flesh was baked into the boards. Have courage, he wanted to tell the boys, but he thought it wiser to stay silent.

Scurvy fared the worst. The Kraken’s crew had beaten him so badly he might have gone blind. His jaw was cracked, his leg snapped at the knee, and he was covered in dirt.

“Forgive me, lad,” he croaked out to Bandolier when he had first joined the row of prisoners, “Our first voyage together looks to be our last, as well.”

Scurvy would have laughed at himself, but the pain in his throat overtook him.

“It was a good ship,” Bandolier said.

“The best,” Scurvy sighed, “I won’t be long to follow her. A captain without a ship is no captain.”

“The captain still has a crew,” Bandolier reminded.

Scurvy glanced at him, and nodded his head.

“Aye. The nymphs still protect us, lad. Remember that.”

Bandolier glanced back at the Kraken’s crew, who milled about the ship anxiously. Scurvy had been able to recognize a few by name. There was Pinchface Forlorn, Three-Tooth, Bloodless Blunt, and Headless Joy. There was Grey Grief and Left-Hoof Luster, and Squidskull, who Bandolier recalled had been the one to smash his face against that wood beam. His snout was smashed to pulp, and a splinter had come close to piercing his eye.

And then came the Morning Star, Ursus Valentine.

Ursus was comely, and years in exile had not changed that. His hair was black as a midnight sea, and his face was smooth and swarthy beneath his neat dark beard. His eyes were bright blue like gemstones.

Scurvy’s face darkened. “Morning Star,” he said.

“Scurvy,” Ursus smiled, “I thought the sea had swallowed you already, but it appears you’ve been spat back up.”

“The Sea Lords banished you from these waters,” Scurvy said, “For all your heresies, now you go too far. Listen to me, devil. Soon you will lie helpless at your prow, when the nymphs rise from their dark depths, full foul in their fury. Black waves will steal the breath from your lungs, turn you bloated and blue with salt foam teeming from your mouth. Only then will they sink their teeth in you, bursting you into black bloody filth for the seaworms and crabs to pick and peck and feed upon. Damn you! A pony who curses the gods will soon suffer their red wrath, and quickly be lost to the sea, tossed and turned in the abyss, forgotten to all those who dwell in the warmth of the sun, forgotten even to the demons and ghosts, until any scrap of your godless soul is yourself no longer, but only the black of the sea.”

“Godless?” Ursus said, “Your curses are all in vain. Who knows more of the gods than I? Gods of the sea and gods of fire. Gods carved of bronze and gilded gods with sapphire eyes. Tree gods, stone gods, gods of the air. I know them well. I have seen them drowned in the blood of fallen foes, and seen them receive the screaming sacrifices of children. I have heard a thousand prayers in a hundred tongues. Grant me health, grant me love, grant me wealth. Protect me, deliver me, defend me. Defend me against the unknown, against the dark, against the raiders, against the slavers. Defend me against the Kraken.” He laughed. “Godless? My good captain of Equestria, I am more godly than any and all. You have your nymphs. But I serve them and a hundred more. Ponies see my sail, and ponies pray.”

Scurvy gritted his teeth and trembled with rage.

“They pray to false idols and demons,” Scurvy said.

“A grievous sin. And for that, I kill them all. I stain the seas with their blood and fill their mares with my seed. Their gods have not stopped me, so they must be false, as you say.”

“Fools,” Scurvy growled, glaring at the crew, “Blind fools you are, to follow him. Do you not see what stands before you?”

The crew laughed. Scurvy spat at the ground.

“Have away with this one,” Ursus said, “I will sooner reason with the wind.”

When Scurvy was gone, the Morning Star turned his bright blue eyes upon Bandolier, who met his gaze. He glanced around at the row of prisoners.

“Where is the first mate?” he asked.

Silver Spar and Humble Pie were too terrified to speak.

“At the bottom of the sea,” Bandolier answered, “He sank with the ship. Along with the twenty other colts you put to the sword.”

Beside him, Old Barebone became alarmed, terrified of Bandolier drawing the captain’s ire. Ursus’ smile curled on his lips.

“I pity them. So young to have been wantonly led to their deaths,” Ursus said, “You are new to these waters, or else I would know your face. A handsome face, too, far more handsome than my friends here. I will not take it as chance that a green sailor chooses to journey west when the world has been upended. You might be a deserter, fleeing the war?”

“What does it matter to you?” Bandolier replied.

“There is a tyrant to the east and a conqueror to the west. But across the seas, there is but one king. This is my domain, and I will know your purpose here.”

“Don’t speak,” Barebone advised, when Bandolier opened his mouth to retort.

Ursus’ bright blue eyes darted to the old sailor.

The spear that split through Barebone’s skull made its plunge with an earsplitting crack. Bandolier winced when the blood sprayed against the left side of his face. Old Barebone fell to his knees. Behind him, Squidskull stood laughing with a bloody spear lodged between his legs.

“An honorable pony lives by his own advice,” Ursus said, studying Bandolier’s face, “Now heed my own. Speak and live to see the morning.”

“I left before the war began. I’m no deserter. I heard tell of an exile across the sea,” Bandolier replied, “My curiosity got the better of me. I had to see for myself.”

Ursus nodded, and watched Bandolier.

“In every lie there is some truth,” Ursus said, “As it is, I have better use for you and your crew of colts than to feed the sharks. You may just get your wish, my brave new friend. Our exile awaits.”

Bandolier eyed him.

“You’re going to Nautilus?” Bandolier asked.

“What do you think drew me back to this side of the world?” Ursus laughed, “Though I suppose we’re not as well-acquainted as me and our drunkard nymph-worshiping friend. I first sought to acquire some spoils to give as a gift to the conqueror and earn his friendship. Perhaps Scurvy’s nymphs like me more than him, they’ve granted me all this plunder. You and your motley crew might suffice to sell as slaves. If you can sell for a profit, that is.”

“Let the colts go, at least,” Bandolier said, “You’ve gotten what you wanted. They won’t sell for much, you’d be better off letting them go.”

“Watch your wording, my friend,” Ursus laughed again, “Or I might just let them go into the sea, each chained to a thirty-pound stone. Take these ones below. Make sure this one survives the voyage west. He amuses me.”

The drums were pounding out a battle beat as the vanguard swept forward, fording the choppy green waters outside the city walls.

Vertigo vaulted over the rubble of the western wall, landing hard with his green cloak billowing behind him. The dragons drew back at the sight of him, armed and armored, his face hidden behind his ivy green helm. They were clutching swords and spears and axes, but four of every five had no armor.

“Get him!” one dragon shouted. “He’s alone!”

“Come!” Vertigo roared back, “Come kill me, if you can.”

From all sides the dragons converged, with sharp claws and grey steel and terror in their eyes. Their fear was so ripe Vertigo could taste it. Left and right, he laid about, hewing off the first dragon’s arm at the shoulder with a blast of his horn, and cleaving through the throat of another. The third was a firebreather, though Vertigo’s shield aura was strong enough to repel the flames. He slammed the aura into the dragon’s face, knocking him off his feet, and he slew him when he tried to rise again. As he began to turn around, a spear jabbed him right in the shoulder. He spun and fired a beam of magic right through the dragon’s head, which exploded on impact.

By then his Green Army had followed him past the toppled western wall, where the trebuchets had created for them an opening. He heard Stokes let out a howl as she went to work, glimpsed Stormy in his rusted mail, saw Drake Destrier send a throwing ax spinning through the air to catch a dragon in the chest. Vertigo slew another dragon, and another. He would have killed a third, but Stormy cut him down first.

“Well struck,” Vertigo bellowed at him.

When he turned to find the next victim, he spied one of the dragon commanders, whose spiked black armor was soiled in blood and gore.

“You!” Vertigo called across the carnage, “Are you the chief of the Black Horns?”

The dragon raised his visor. “That I am. Razer, I am called. And who are you, little pony?”

“Your death,” Vertigo ran towards him.

Razer lept to meet him. The dragon carried a fearsome ax of castle-forged steel, and he made it sing. His first cut was low, and Vertigo deflected it off a swirl of magic. His second caught the captain near his temple before Vertigo raised his shield. Vertigo answered with a sidearm blow, a concussive blast to the dragon’s ribs. The dragon’s shield got in the way, and wooden splinters flew into the air. The dragon’s axe hammered at his thigh, once, then twice, then once more, screaming at the steel. He’s quick. Quicker than me. Vertigo’s horn ignited right into Razer’s face and sent him staggered back towards the rubble. Vertigo readied his horn to put all his weight into the immolation, hoping to open the dragon from balls to brain. But Razer darted away. The blast ruptured what remained of the wall, crumbling down overhead onto three of his own ponies and one dragon imp.

Razer cast away his splintered shield and slashed down with his axe. Vertigo caught the axe in his shield, though most of the blade made it through and split right into his horn, sawing a quarter-inch deep into the marrow and ripping out part of the nerve stem. Vertigo grunted in pain, yet he held on.
Vertigo ripped the axe from Razer’s hands. Razer’s eyes went wide.

Vertigo caught him by the throat with a ring of magic, and, in a furious roar, he snapped the ring shut, slicing through scale, flesh, muscle and bone in one clean cut. Razer’s head fell to Vertigo’s hooves.

The dragons were falling back over the hills, though they would not make it far. Some tried to flee to the docks, as others cried for quarter. Vertigo could feel the blood and loose sparks trickling down his damaged horn and over his helm, but that was nothing.

By the first hour the ground was slick beneath his hooves, and the dead and dying lay in heaps at every side.

“Captain,” he heard Destrier say beside him, “The day is ours.”

Most of the ponies that had once called High Water their home had already been butchered by the dragons, though a trembling few still remained. They knelt when they saw the captain trot by with his chariots and carriages of food and medicine. There were still some ponies left alive nailed to the wooden beams by the docks, and Vertigo demanded that his doctors do all they can to help their suffering.

But suffering was plentiful here, and consequently Vertigo had little in the way of mercy to show his dragon captives.

Only one of the other commanders had survived the battle - Blacktip, the elderly chief of the Groundwyrms. Vertigo found him waiting in chains by the great fountain, surrounded by green soldiers drenched in blood.

“The command lies with you now, is that it?” Vertigo asked.

“If Razer is dead, then yes.”

Vertigo narrowed his eyes. At least Razer was brave enough to come out and fight his enemy. This one had been content to remain in the town hall building where it was safe.

“Your queen split your army in thirds,” Vertigo recalled, “But apparently not equally. Where are all the firebreathers? There were only a handful among you.”

“I only know what orders were given to me,” Blacktip growled.

“She had no intention of holding High Water,” Vertigo supposed, “She wanted to test us, to see what we were capable of.”

“Now she knows,” offered Kit Carina, one of the captain’s lieutenants. His remark earned a rowdy cheer from the growing crowd of soldiers.

“This is no victory,” Blacktip spat, “The Queen will reach Canterlot soon, and Sawtooth will put the rest of the south to the torch. You’ve saved this city, yes, but there was not much of a city to save, anyway. One victory doesn’t make you a conqueror.”

Vertigo glanced at where the surviving civilians were being kept, currently taking advantage of the food and water that the soldiers had brought.

“It’s better than one defeat,” Vertigo retorted, “Tell me the truth and you’ll keep your life. Where are all the stallions? Where are all the foals? There are seventy survivors here, and not a stallion or child among them.”

The dragon laughed.

“Answer me,” Vertigo demanded, “Where are they?”

“The stallions made good meat,” Blacktip replied, “The mares we kept. And the foals….they’re not far from here. You’ll only have to look at the bottom of the river where we drowned them all.”

Kit struck Blacktip in the head with the butt of his spear, and soon four others joined him, laying down kicks after kick. Vertigo had to shove himself in to separate them.

“You heard what he said!” Kit yelled, unsheathing a dagger from his belt, “He murdered them all! Foals! He has to die, Captain. He has to die now.”

“No. He may know more about the other armies’ movements,” Vertigo said, “Put the blade away.”

Kit ignored him and lunged for Blacktip with the dagger in hoof, but Varnish and Scrapesword were quick enough to grab ahold of him.

Kit thrashed against the others as they dragged him off, while Vertigo stared down at Blacktip, who laughed.

“My hero,” Blacktip grinned.

“Get this one out of my sight. Keep him far away from Kit,” Vertigo ordered.

Stormy and Magizette carried off the bloodied, bruised dragon, while Sergeant Stokes came before him, standing at attention.

“Pardon, sir. Lady Delphi has requested you back at the camp. She said it was urgent,” Stokes said.

Vertigo glared at her. She should be coming here to meet me, not the other way around.

Still, he relented, and left High Water around noon with his three most trusted lieutenants - Drake Destrier, Nebulous Gale, and Bluebeard.

The four of them found a hero’s welcome at the war camp, where the remainder of the Green Army had stayed to hold the rear position. Vertigo was still filthy with blood and sand and dirt, though he supposed if Delphi was to summon him like a mongrel pup, she would receive him as he was.

And so she did, when Vertigo entered his tent at the center of camp. Only Destrier had remained with him, the other two had gone off to share some drinks with the troops.

Delphi’s chestnut curls fell across her sea-green coat, and the gown she wore was blue and green. He wanted nothing more than to tear it off her.

“You’ve done it,” Delphi exclaimed. She had a soft little smirk to her that usually angered him, though he had missed her so dearly he craved to see it again, “Are you hurt?”

Vertigo set his helm down on one of the tables by the tent opening, while Destrier helped himself to the pitcher of wine. He poured a glass for Vertigo, and Delphi too.

“The blood’s not mine,” Vertigo said, “I wanted you to see the city for yourself. The ponies there need our help. What was so urgent?”

Delphi’s eyes darted to another section of the tent, where another pony emerged, this time one who Vertigo did not recognize.

Then something clicked in his head, and he realized it was Delphi’s own brother, Hydrangea, with his golden curls and rose-pink coat. He was wearing the mark on his reddish-cerise armor reserved only for those who belonged to the Nine. Vertigo might have wanted to strangle the boy right then and there. Twilight insults me once more. Wedge had promised the next opening would go to me.

“Equestria owes you a great debt, Captain,” Hydrangea said. Vertigo had never trusted the boy, the pampered son of pompous Augustan nobles. Then again, he was Delphi's brother, too, and so he would have to be kinder than he'd prefer to be.

“I didn’t recognize you at first,” Vertigo admitted, glancing at the boy’s spotless golden armor.

“Her grace did me a great honor,” Hydrangea acknowledged, “You might not have heard, Sergeant Valance fell to his death. His station went to me.”

Valance was always a drunken fool, Vertigo thought, though as far as deaths in Canterlot went, few were ever only accidents.

“You come as Twilight’s emissary, yes? Speak then. What does Twilight have to tell me?” Vertigo commanded.

“Her grace is not displeased with what you’ve done,” Hydrangea said, “Commander Hawkbit’s strategy has left the south as easy prey for the dragons. However … she is concerned you might have a certain … disdain for authority that would present some issues in the future.”

Vertigo said nothing. He enjoyed watching the boy squirm against the silence.

“She wants you, Captain, to go to Canterlot, to acknowledge her as your princess and commander, and send a portion of your forces to Canterlot to bolster the city’s defenses. She’ll also send you more resources in return, to continue your activities here,” Hydrangea said.

She’s afraid. Vertigo wanted to smile, but restrained himself.

“No. There isn’t time for this,” Vertigo rebuffed.

“If you don’t come back with me, Twilight will expect you to plan on betraying her, no matter what I tell her,” Hydrangea pointed out.

“Then stay here with us,” Vertigo said, “You’ll be of better use fighting for us than as Twilight’s errandboy.”

Hydrangea hesitated.

“You’ve won one battle, yes. But do you really think you can march against Twilight? Against the crown?” Hydrangea asked, skeptically.

“I could march my army into hell if need be,” Vertigo said. His horn was red with blood from where Razer’s ax had torn in. “While she plots and plays at war, my ponies bleed. I’’m going to root her out, her and all her sycophants, her sorcerers and her spies. She drew first blood. Now I’m going to finish what she started.”

Broadwing read the letter over and over until the words began to blur and run together. I can’t sign this. I won’t.
He had almost burned the parchment right then and there. Instead he took another sip of ale, the last dregs of what he had saved from his lonely supper the prior night. I have to sign it. They chose me to lead. Rhinefrost is mine, and the Frost Army too.

It was a relief when Mulberry entered through the tent flap, to tell him that Lord Stonehoof was waiting without. Broadwing set the letter aside. “I’ll see him.” He dreaded this. “Find Windchill for me. I’ll want to speak with her next.”

“She’s been in her books again” Mulberry said, “She likes her books more than ponies, I think.” He went off muttering to himself, when Stonehoof gruffly stormed into the tent.

“The Highlands are with you,” Stonehoof announced, begrudgingly, “Every city’s sent out its forces to join us at the southern foot of the gorge. All of them except Silkwood.”

“Lady Lavender?” Broadwing asked.

Stonehoof grunted.

“She’ll join the war eventually, only she’ll wait for the opportune moment to join the winning side,” Stonehoof expected, “Cowards and butchers and fools and mad ponies. Whoever wins, Equestria loses.”

“Don’t count me out so soon,” Broadwing said.

“I said fools, didn’t I?” Stonehoof growled, “The column is taking too long to pass through the gorge. You’ve got stragglers in the rear and your scouts might as well be blind. A platoon of Starhaven soldiers entered the camp last night without anypony noticing. Lucky for us they’re on our side. And the more soldiers we take, the less food we have to ration out.”

“Windward’s fleet has begun its assault on the Smoky Shore,” Broadwing said, “Once they take control of the ports, we’ll be able to resupply. We just need to make it out of the gorge before Snowfall gets here.”

“You may not have as much time as you thought,” Stonehoof warned, “...The hippogriff army has joined the royals, following Prince Terramar. My own student. They’ve quickened their pace, as well.”

Broadwing’s eyes drifted down along the map on his table, searching for a faster way out of the gorge.

“The frost ponies will hold the southeast perimeter,” Broadwing said, “Spread the word that we march again for a third of each night, and there will only be one rest during the day.”

Stonehoof glared at him.

“You have tenacity, fool prince, I’ll give you that,” Stonehoof grunted.

Stonehoof left through the tent flap, and Windchill arrived moments later.

Windchill was skinny but well-muscled, with a round face, blue-grey eyes that seemed too far apart, and a slightly upturned snout. She may have been considered plain, if not for her smile, which seemed to light up her face. She had a pale baby blue coat and a paler short curly mane, almost the color of snow.

“You wanted me, sir?” Windchill said, standing at attention. She wore the silvery grey armor that all the frost ponies wore, a few shades lighter than Broadwing’s.

Broadwing motioned for her to take a seat by his desk, and he slid the parchment toward her.

“Have a look at this.”

“What is it?” Windchill asked, picking up the parchment. She read it slowly.

“A marriage pact?” Windchill gawked, shrinking in her seat, “You….Shining Armor wrote this?”

“There’s his signature. My mother’s, too,” Broadwing said, “We’ve just won them the Smoky Shore, and my reward is an arranged marriage with a changeling of all things.”

That got an odd look from Windchill, and she looked as if she was going to say something, but she instead swallowed and turned back to the parchment.

“You haven’t signed the letter.”

Broadwing shook his head.

“The changelings only ever crawl out of their burrows when they smell blood in the air,” Broadwing said, “Shining should have consulted me.”

“If the changelings join us, no one could withstand us,” Windchill pointed out, “And the decision’s already been made. King Pharynx is not a creature to cross. You have a duty, sir.”

Broadwing winced at the word. Duty. He sighed, and sat back in his seat. He knew she was right, and that he had no real choice in the matter.

“It’s not such a bad deal, anyway,” Windchill shrugged, “Princess Elytra is royalty. And she could phase into anypony you want.”

Broadwing’s eyes darted up to Windchill, whose smile withered away. Her eyes fell to the floor, and her face reddened. Broadwing had to smile.

“Once we get out of here, I’m going to talk to Shining Armor, and sort this out,” Broadwing said, reaching for the quill to sign the parchment.

But the ink never touched the paper, before the first blast of the horn sent Broadwing to his hooves. Windchill rose beside him.

“Th-That can’t be,” Windchill said, “They’re here?”

Broadwing reached for his sword belt and fastened it around his waist, overtop his chainmail.

“Send the back half of the column in full retreat to Seaguard,” Broadwing commanded, “I’ll be with the vanguard.”

“That’s folly,” Windchill said, “Snowfall has a legion behind her, maybe more. You need everypony.”

“They have us in a pinch. If we don’t stretch back they’ll be able to trap us in the gorge and pick us off from above. We have to meet them on the field with a smaller force and buy the others time to thin out the column. Then we’ll all regroup above ground.”

He moved to rush past her, though Windchill caught him by the leg.

“Sir,” Windchill said, “....If it must be done, then don’t go yourself. It’s suicide.”

“It’s my duty, no?” Broadwing laughed. He tried to move again, but Windchill still had a grip on his leg.

“Then let me go with you,” Windchill said, “I’m not fit to take the command should something horrible happen. I’d much rather be at your side, sir. Please.”

Broadwing studied her, and eventually relented, gesturing for her to join him.

“Oh, and prepare to send word to Princess Elytra,” Broadwing smiled, “It’ll be a pity, really, once I’m dead. Such a short engagement.”

The mongrels had robbed him of his clothes and shoes and belt. All he wore were chains and scabs. Saltwater splashed against his legs, rising as high as his waist only to edge back down. The salt had gotten in his wounds and it stung. Cloudy and Silver Spar and Humble Pie were lying somewhere else in the dark of the brig. There were other prisoners here too, some already dead, bloated and puffy-white in the water. One was hardly recognizable as a pony. All of his hooves had been burned down to the bone, and his face was a blackened horror where two blind bloody eyes once darted about sightlessly, dripping pus. He had only recently died, Bandolier thought.

There were two others still alive - warlocks from the western continent, pale-skinned with black eyes. They were gaunt like walking skeletons, and one had no legs at all. He had been hung from a rafter up above. “Flee!” he would cry, “Flee! Flee!”

Silver and Humble had managed to fall asleep, though Cloudy was deterred by the taste of salt in his mouth.

“These things always happen to me,” Cloudy complained, “The nymphs always smiled on young Eventide, though. When the pirates knocked him off the crow’s nest, somehow he landed in the sea instead of the fires on the deck. How lucky was that, missing the fire?”

“Did he get away?” Bandolier wanted to know.

“No,” Cloudy said, “He was dead already, from that ax in his head. But it was pretty lucky, missing the fire.”

Night came, though Bandolier would not have known; the brig was pitch black almost always. The exceptions were few - the gaoler would visit every now and then with a torch in his teeth.

Sleep did not come easy to him. He thought of Sandbar and Scurvy, who were likely dead already. He wondered whether Alias had bothered to go looking for him yet, or if he had been given up for dead. I wouldn’t look for me either.

He heard hoofsteps on the stairwell, and the light of a torch put a strain on his eyes.

But the eyes he found peering down on him did not belong to the gaoler, or Ursus or Scurvy or Sandbar. She was not unfamiliar, however. She was lean, with dark eyes and a raven-black mane cut short. Her face was thin with a larger snout and a wind-chafed coat of tan. On her neck was a faded pink scar. But what he recognized first was that wicked smile.

Clover.

“I’m going mad,” Bandolier declared. He turned away from the light and laughed to himself.

“You might be, but not on my account,” the girl replied.

“The captain sends his changeling to torment me, is that it?” Bandolier laughed.

“You’ve only been down here a few hours, and you’ve already lost your mind? I thought you’d last longer than that. I saw you go under during the battle. I would’ve visited earlier, but I’d rather nopony know about us.”

Abruptly, Bandolier rose to his hooves, wading through the water to storm towards her.

“There is no us. You tried to kill me,” he said.

“If I meant to kill you, I would’ve,” the girl said.

“What are you doing here?” Bandolier demanded.

Clover swept her mane away from her eyes.

“I’m a prisoner here. And a guest too, I suppose,” Clover said, “Ursus didn’t feel the need to keep me caged.”

“Perhaps he’s not as clever as he thinks,” Bandolier said.

“Neither are you,” Clover said, glancing at the bars of the cage. Her evil little smile returned, “You were supposed to go kill Twilight. Instead you’re here.”

“I’ve never been much good at sticking to plans,” Bandolier said, “Everypony’s eyes are turned to Twilight, but as far as I can tell, her days are numbered. I’m more concerned about what I don’t know. Starting with this gadfly from across the pond. And starting with you, too.”

“Ah, I see. Twilight’s too much for you, so you think you’ll try your hoof at taking down the conqueror instead. I hate to break it to you, but you may not like what you find,” Clover said.

“We’ll see about that,” Bandolier said, “All I know for certain is that I won’t be dying in the bowels of this ship. You and I could help each other.”

“Not gonna happen,” Clover grinned, “Captivity suits you, anyway. You got yourself in this mess, now you’ve got to get yourself out. I have my own problems.”

Bandolier eyed her, awaiting an elaboration.

“This may surprise you, but I haven’t been entirely honest with you,” Clover admitted. She sat herself down beside the bars, right up against where Bandolier was standing.

“I didn’t lie about what I told you, months ago,” Clover said, “I did grow up in Newport drinking out of dirty puddles and eating throwaway bread. But it could’ve been different. My father was Thrushcross Grange. He used to run things in Newport in Augusta. But he had me out of wedlock with a common-born mare, so he left me on the street instead of letting me shame the family. When I was old enough I made a new life for myself, working for Marius Moonshine in Canterlot, selling contraband and crewing a ship. Ursus took me as a threat, though. He spared my life, but warned me never to raise my sails again. I tried to settle down in Shimmering Spires, but then Moonshine and Twilight Sparkle reached out to me again, and offered me a job to keep me rich for the rest of my life - kill Lavender. But I screwed that up, thanks to you.”

“How’d you get past Lavender?” Bandolier asked.

“I tried speaking her language instead of trying to stick a knife in her throat. When she said she was chums with the conqueror, I knew I had a chance to make a deal. That’s why I stayed. We worked things out - I’d go to the conqueror across the sea and offer my help in uniting all of Augusta under his rule. My father’s dead, and he hasn’t got any legitimate children, so I have a claim to Newport. But Ursus' family comes from Mercy Hill, and so he wants to lead Augusta too and make the same deal with the Conqueror. He caught my ship on the way west, and put my entire crew to the sword. But he kept me alive, on account of our history and us both wanting the same thing,” Clover said.

“The Conqueror wants Augusta?” Bandolier gawked, “That’s on Equestria’s doorstep. Who is this pony?”

“Nopony knows much. Only rumors. I’ve heard some say he’s an ancient demon who can raise the dead, others say it’s a mare, the most beautiful mare in the world, who can control the minds of ponies and make them do her bidding,” Clover yawned, “You’ll get to know the truth soon, though.”

Bandolier glanced at her, warily.

“Ursus didn’t tell you?” Clover raised an eyebrow, “He does love to play with his food. He’s not just selling you as slaves. He’s selling you to perform before the conqueror, to participate in the Great Games.”

“Games? I never win at games,” came Cloudy from behind them.

“Luna be good. I thought that one was dead already,” Clover remarked.

“I can only wish,” Cloudy grumbled.

“You think I’m afraid?” Bandolier challenged.

“No. You’re too stupid to be afraid,” Clover said, “That’s what I like about you.”

Bandolier pressed himself closer to the bars.

“You like to think you’re so clever,” Bandolier said, grabbing her by her waist. He had a hoof by her throat, too. She blushed.

“We shouldn’t…Bandolier,” Clover stammered, “If Ursus were to know, he would-”

“I don’t care,” Bandolier said, pulling her closer toward the bars.

He kissed her through the bars, to her shock, though she did not pull away. They pressed closer together, and Clover shut her eyes, savoring his taste. But only for a moment, before she pulled herself away.

“How dare you!”

She took a breath, and threw herself back towards him, kissing him hard and fast on the lips. When they separated, Bandolier's eyes narrowed.

“Y'know, I don’t like fast mares," he said.

“And I hate arrogant stallions.”

They kissed again. Clover's hoof ran through his soiled mud mane, and he tasted of salt and seawater.

“You’re making me regret having pushed you into that river. Whatever brain you had to begin with has surely been smashed to pieces,” Clover smirked, holding his hooves in hers, “You can beg me all you want. I won’t help you as long as you have a chance at getting in my way.”

“That’s what I’m best at, though,” Bandolier grinned, “What do you hope to gain here?”

“A way out,” Clover said, “If I go back to Equestria, Twilight will kill me. This exile may be my last shot. Yours too, if you survive the games. Which is unlikely.”

“...If they kill me, will you weep for me?” Bandolier teased.

“How will you know? You’ll be dead,” Clover pointed out.

Bandolier kissed her again.

“I’ll know.”

Somewhere off in the far distance, a dying pony was screaming for his mother. “Cavalry!” a pony was yelling in the next camp north of the Asteria Company. “Cavalry! Cavalry!” High and shrill, her voice carried a long way in the morning air, far beyond her own encampment. Snowfall Glitter heard the fear in the pony’s voice before the words.

The Galloping Gorge was on fire. Sparks of magic and specks of ash escaped the chasm where the bloodshed was at its fiercest. Snowfall’s face was covered in grey dust, and there was a bloody gash around the corner of her eye where a moose’s antler had met its mark.

They had caught the Frost Army by surprise. It was Styles who came up with the idea, after suspecting a potential weak spot in the Northerners’ column. He had ventured into the camp with six others disguised among a small platoon of Starhaven soldiers. The fire he started had engulfed the whole column by the time the battle was finished, and though Broadwing had tried to send his stragglers fleeing back to Seaguard, they too were caught in the trap, and those that survived were scattered all across the countryside.

Dawn had broken, and a sliver of the rising sun was visible behind the camp’s walls and towers, blindingly bright. To the west, the stars were fading, one by one. Trumpets were blowing along the gorge’s edge, rallying troops to pursue the scattering Frost ponies, Highlanders, and moose.

Spare as many as you can, she had commanded, though nopony could pay that much heed during the thrill of the fight.

She had returned to the camp as soon as the first of the defensive lines began to break. She knew at once that the battle was won, and the less time she had to stomach the corpses’ stench and watch the crows come to feed on her former friends, the better.

“Commander!”

Upon entering the command tent, Snowfall was greeted by Bravo, the captain of Angel Company, with his jowly grin and rosy red cheeks, “Well fought! We’ve got them on the run!”

Snowfall smiled politely and trotted past him toward the map table, where she found Sparkshower, Saving Grace, Echo, and … Redshift.

The green-eyed mare was clad in her dark crimson armor, sitting at the end of the table, puffing out her chest and smirking at nopony in particular. Snowfall had come to a complete stop, and all eyes at the table glided over to Redshift.

“What are you doing here?” Snowfall asked, sharply. She was much too exhausted to be pleasant.

“Coming to your rescue,” Redshift replied, “Princess Twilight had a feeling you’d stumble once or twice, so she sent me to get things under control. You’re lucky I got here when I did. Otherwise you’d be burnt to a crisp already.”

“If anyone can claim to have rescued us, it would be the hippogriffs, not you, Redshift. How many ponies did you bring?”

“200,” Redshift replied, “We smashed through the northern half of the vanguard while your ponies were picking them off from the high ground.”

Snowfall sighed and sat down at the opposite chair.

“What are our losses?” Snowfall asked Bravo, ignoring Redshift’s manic glare.

“A thousand at most,” Bravo reported, “A third as many as the enemy, I’d wager. That gorge is a sea of bodies. Styles hasn’t reported in. Some of the boys in Asteria said they saw him take three bolts to the skull before he fell off the edge of the gorge. He didn’t get off the ground, they said.”

Snowfall’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt herself go pale. Redshift paid her no notice, however.

“And Broadwing?” she asked.

“We haven’t found him. He’s likely dead, though he may have escaped,” Sparkshower answered.

“This battle is won, but the war isn’t. The Frost Prince's forces are still relatively intact - most of them were able to withdraw before I could reach the gorge. I need more soldiers,” Redshift demanded, “Whoever controls Haverford controls the Highlands. I’m going to lead a force to lay siege to the city and claim it for the crown.”

Snowfall glared at her.

“As long as you’re here, you follow my commands,” Snowfall reminded, bluntly.

Redshift’s eyes narrowed.

“We need Haverford,” Redshift said, “Put me to use.”

“We don’t need to waste resources to starve out a city of civilians just to prove a point,” Snowfall said.

Redshift rose to her hooves.

“There are no civilians,” Redshift said, “As long as they occupy these lands, they are enemies. They will be dealt with as such.”

“Not as long as I’m the commander,” Snowfall said, coldly.

Redshift gritted her teeth.

“As long as you’re the commander,” she said, before storming out of the tent. Bravo seemed alarmed by the remark, though Snowfall was much too weary to bat an eye.

As if to reply to Redshift’s departure, outside, Sergeant Solar Flare poked his head in.

“Pardon, Commander. Lieutenant Styles has returned.”

Styles. Snowfall’s heart gave a flutter in her chest.

“How long has….when did he…?” she could not seem to get the words out.

Flare seemed to understand. “He only just arrived, ma’am. His report can wait until you’re fed and rested, ma’am.”

“No,” Snowfall said. She had to see him. “Send him in. The rest of you may go, get some rest. We’ll convene again tonight.”

After the room had cleared, Styles revealed himself, sauntering in with his bronze armor stained red with blood, and his gold rings around his hooves. His stubble had begun to thicken, and Snowfall found him a rugged, bloodied, haggard soldier, whose hard muscles were slick with blood. On one hip he wore a stiletto, and on the other his short sword. His horn had some cuts and small dents in it, the result of several soldiers’ attempts at dismembering him. She wondered how many ponies that horn had killed.

“Commander,” Styles said, “Even covered in blood and dirt, you’re beautiful. How is this possible?”

“I was told you were killed,” Snowfall said.

“I’m not so easily killed. Ponies have been trying for years,” Styles said, “I took some arrows, yes, but none of your northern friends seem to know how to aim. It’s a shame, none of them share any of your charms, either. Are you sure you’re from that wretched country?”

She might have smacked him. Instead she offered him a plate of bread and cheese that was lying on the table.

“Eat something. Please,” Snowfall said.

Styles obliged, and took his seat where Redshift had been prior, scratching at his itchy beard and stretching out his legs.

“An ugly bunch, those Frost Ponies. But adequate fighters. One or two nearly nicked me where it’d have hurt.”

“I’ll have need of you again soon. We need to find Stonehoof and bring him in for questioning,” Snowfall said.

“You might find that difficult,” Styles said, “Stonehoof is dead.”

Snowfall stared at him, blankly, and she felt the breath escape her.

“I drove a dagger through his heart. Then I took his head off his shoulders. I'm having it sent to Twilight as a gift,” Styles said.

Snowfall’s eyes were restless and red from the ash.

“I told you to spare his life!” Snowfall yelled. Styles’ grin faded.

“I watched him kill three of our ponies before I came for him,” Styles said, “He would’ve killed me too, if I didn’t put an end to him.”

Snowfall trotted towards him.

“Twilight may like to humor you. But I don’t. You sully your name, your station, and your vows with every wanton act of cruelty. You’re an oathbreaker, a murderer, and a thief, and if you defy my orders ever again, I’ll have you hanged for all of that and more.”

Styles grinned and rose to his hooves. They were almost of the same height, though Styles had a slight advantage. He shook his head.

“Oaths, oaths, so many oaths. They make you swear this and swear that. Defend the princess. Obey the princess. Obey your parents. Defend the innocent, protect the weak. But what if the princess wants to harm the innocent? What if your parents hate the princess? It’s all too much. No matter what you do, you’re breaking one oath for another. And at any rate, you might not want to get rid of me so soon. I have some grave tidings.”

Snowfall took a step back, and raised an eyebrow.

“What is it?”

“When we were inside their camp, we intercepted a messenger en route to the Crystal Empire. A new alliance has been made, between the Empire and the changelings,” Styles said.

“No,” Snowfall said, “No, that….They-”

“There’s more. Our hippogriff army has deserted us to join the enemy. They refuse to fight against the changelings while their princess, Silver Stream, is a hostage and a bride-to-be. They escaped with the fleeing Northerners. Well, not all the hippogriffs. Prince Terramar is still with us, with a few hundred loyal hippogriffs. He won’t fight for the creature that kidnapped his sister, he said, no matter what threats are made.”

“He’s gambling with his sister’s life,” Snowfall acknowledged, “But it’s good he’s still with us.”

“We’re outnumbered now, three times over,” Styles pointed out, “And if this new alliance should somehow make common cause with the dragons, then…”

“We’re not suing for peace, if that’s where you’re heading,” Snowfall said.

Styles laughed.

“I am many things, Commander, but not one to shy away from a losing battle. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a proper challenge. Today is the first of a dozen more victories. I’ll have the Frost Prince’s head next, and then King Pharynx, and finally Shining Armor.”

“I want them alive. I mean it,” Snowfall said.

“As you wish,” Styles allowed, “Though I’m not sure Twilight would agree.”

“Twilight’s not in charge of this campaign. I am. And no matter what she thinks, I won’t believe that compassion is a weakness. Tonight we set out to scour the Highlands and pick off Broadwing’s scattered army. Find him and bring him to me, alive.”

Styles smiled.

“I’ll take care of it.”

Author's Note

Next chapter will be focusing on the main gang again! Next chapter should be out in June. The current plan is to have four more chapters, though it may be more depending on how the process goes for next chapter. Let me know what your thoughts are about this one, any and all feedback is welcomed! Thanks for reading!

01: Payback

Across lantern-lit cobblestones, along rain-rutted stalls stuffed with honey jars and sweet-smelling cider, a pony kept to the blinking street shadows, wary of the watchful eyes that lingered on in the dark.

Canterlot was a labyrinth by night.

In those depths departed, she paid no mind to the passing pedestrians’ chatter, nor the carriages splashing in black puddle mirrors. Red, blue, and green bands of light bent around the nightstruck city’s crude corners and stained streetways. Car horns and masked mutterings made her hasten her pace. She tightened her grip on her satchel strap, which had begun slipping off her shoulder.

Wallflower Blush fixed her cap tighter over her curly green mane, glancing over her shoulder. She was certain about it now. He's following me.

She was absolutely lost, wandering past lucid tenement curtains and downcast sewer urchins.

She knew little of her pursuer, only that he wore a polished suit of golden armor, with a helmet to match.

A bead of sweat fell down her face. She could hear his hoofsteps quicken against the concrete, his armor clinking and clanking.

She could feel the soldier’s glare washing over her from behind. She considered putting up a fight, though quickly convinced herself against it. She had little idea how exactly she might have drawn the guard’s ire, to begin with.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” the guard grunted.

Run. Run. Run.

But she was stuck in place, to her horror, while the guard’s eyes locked on to her.

She slowly turned her head to face him. The soldier had a grizzly beard underneath his helmet, and a pair of wild green eyes.

“Are you alright?” he croaked.

Wallflower tripped right over her words. She tightened her grip on her satchel strap.

“Er, yes, sorry, my mistake.”

“You shouldn’t be out this way so late, ma’am. Just been a robbery down Oldtown. Crooks are still loose, it’s not safe.”

“...Oh! How dreadful,” Wallflower said, after a prolonged pause.

She watched his eyes wander down towards the satchel.

“Um, actually, there was something, something quite strange I saw,” Wallflower said, feigning a newfound epiphany, “Somepony dressed all dark, shoving folks to the curb, sprinting off to East Village.”

“That so?” the guard asked, alarmed, “How long ago?”

“Not long. You’ll catch him if you hurry,” Wallflower said, batting her eyelashes for good measure.

“Well, thank you, ma’am,” the guard smiled.

But he lingered still, and she wondered if he was toying with her, if he had already recognized who she was.

“...What’s your name?” the guard demanded.

Wallflower was trembling, as panic swept her off her hooves.

But before the guard could press any further, her rescue came, when a blur of winged turquoise came darting down the road, breezing through carriage traffic.

The blur came barreling towards the guard’s head, knocking his helmet right off.

The guard promptly crashed to his knees. He landed face-first in the concrete, his armor crumpling as he fell.

“Lightning Dust,” she said, relieved.

“Thank me later,” Lightning grinned.

“There you are,” came another pony, strutting out from an adjacent alleyway.

“Suri!” Lightning said, spitting out a bloody tooth, “What happened to ‘break right to Twinkletone Ave!?’”

“It was left on Twinkletone, ‘kay, and second of all, it doesn’t matter, since somepony decided to go and get lost,” said Suri Polomare, flicking dust off of her coat.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Wallflower said, “Neither of you are hurt, are you?”

Suri shook her head, and noticed Wallflower’s satchel was all but empty.

“Why’d you freeze up back there?” Lightning stammered, glaring at Wallflower.

“Why’d you run back in after the guards came? Have you got a death wish?” Suri snarled.

“Somepony had to have the guts to try for it,” Lightning insisted, “I wasn’t just gonna give up.”

“The market was crawling with guards! I told you, we’d only get one chance to get it right. ‘Drain the register, in and out, ‘kay?’ You both should’ve just followed the plan. You nearly get yourself killed! And you still came back empty-hoofed! ” Suri exclaimed.

“I was just trying to help,” Lightning said.

“No, you were only thinking about yourself, as usual.”

“That’s not true!” Lightning exclaimed.

“Stop fighting, please,” Wallflower pleaded, sticking herself between them, “We’ll get another chance.”

Lightning sighed, trying to calm herself down.

“...This isn’t getting any easier, you know. Especially on an empty stomach,” Lightning said.

“Let’s just get out of here, before any more show up, ‘kay?” Suri said, rolling her eyes.

Wallflower kept herself close to her exhausted companions, and the three of them again took off into the dizzying dim chaos of Canterlot.

Weaving through fire breath displays, noxious perfumes, and theater troupes dressed in red and gold, the three ponies persisted through the underworld of Canterlot, wary of wandering eyes. Ponies perused through carnival treats and barrels of oranges and cinnamon, sparing lustful gazes and whispering through sweat-sodden lips.

Struggling to keep up while the trio journeyed through the crowded streets, Wallflower Blush kept her head hung low, unwittingly forcing herself to look into the odd puddle reflections as she sauntered on by. She was repulsed at the sight. She wished she could stomp out the image, destroy it somehow. But no matter her efforts, the water would draw still after time, and the reflection would return.

She had no burning desire to deserve consideration. Only, she wished to feel some of the warmth that seemed to come naturally to all the other ponies in her life. She was in love with the idea, of having a family to call her own. She wished to do whatever she could for them. But she distrusted herself, enough to fear even opening her mouth unless necessary. The trials of the past were demanding enough, she couldn’t imagine what the future had in store.

“Stay close,” Lightning muttered, checking behind her to make sure the others had not strayed too far.

They escaped the crowds of merchants and thieves by the crack of dawn, when they arrived at Mandola’s Bodega on Harmony Boulevard.

“Ah, the musketeers,” cackled Mandola himself, a copper-colored earth pony with a heavy haunch and a greasy lump in his throat, “Another lucky day, eh?”

He stood behind the shop counter, enjoying a cigar.

“Save it,” Lightning snapped, “What have you got to eat?”

Mandola flashed his toothy snarl.

“Free meals were never part of the deal.”

“We were close this time, I swear! We’ll get the bits,” Lightning said.

Suri had entered after Wallflower, who, as always, was taken by the sweet smell of Mandola’s newest batch of bread.

“I don’t take kindly to swindlers, Polomare. Neither does the pony I work for. At your rate, you’ll be in debt to half this city.”

“You tell Razor Blade, one last run, and we’ll have the rent paid in full. Then we’re out of here,” Suri replied.

“You won’t see me complaining. You and your sewer rat friends bring me more trouble than what’s good for me.”

Suri scoffed and ushered Wallflower along towards the basement door.

“But for you, pegasus, I could always make accommodations,” Mandola said, a lustful grin stretching across his face.

Lightning flew towards him, laying her head down in her hooves on his front counter.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” she whispered, before snatching a small loaf of freshly-baked bread off of the counter.

Mandola’s hearty laugh followed after Lightning as she glided down the stairwell.

In the bodega basement, twenty or thirty ponies were crammed against one another, half-dead from disease, or starving, or keeled over in the morning heat. They were covered in bruises and needle holes, caked in dirt. Warm gold lanterns held the darkness at bay, revealing clouds of dust in the stale air.

“Lightning Dust!” squeaked Scootaloo from behind a row of blood-stained cots.

“Scootaloo, how are ya?” Lightning asked, ripping a piece of bread off for Scootaloo to wolf down.

Lightning’s smile dropped, noticing a streak of grime and dirt above Scootaloo’s eye.

“What’s this?” Lightning said, crouching down beside her, cautiously reaching for Scootaloo’s forehead. Scootaloo’s eyes dropped to the floor, as if pretending to not have heard.

“You were screwing around outside again, weren’t you. Scootaloo, there’s broken glass all over the place, and needles and-”

“I’m fine,” Scootaloo snapped.

Lightning hesitated, and subtly shook her head, deciding not to pursue the argument.

She had long stopped insisting that Scootaloo return home to her aunts where it was safe. The filly was relentless.

Lightning’s eyes glazed over the basement’s impoverished tenants, old folk and foals sprawled out on the gravel floor. She picked out Kickstart’s red coat and face full of scars in an instant; he was by the sick and the wounded, applying what little medical prowess he had picked up from Lightning’s first-aid experience.

Lightning soared over towards him, after ushering Scootaloo to run and join Suri and Wallflower down by the group’s designated spot by the basement furnace.

Kickstart had just finished tying off a bandage around a mare’s naloxone wound.

“Nicely done,” Lightning said, catching Kickstart by surprise.

“I had a good teacher,” he said, wrapping up his work.

“I told you to keep an eye on her when I’m gone. She’s going to get herself hurt one of these days,” Lightning said, glancing at Scootaloo, who was playing with a piece of scrap metal by the others. A year ago she wouldn't have thought twice about such risks, though now the idea terrified her.

“She came back in one piece, didn’t she?” he grinned, trotting off. Lightning shook her head, holding back a smile.

She found her pet rat, Scampers, still sleeping beside his stash of crumbs atop a broken microwave.

“Poor baby,” Lightning muttered, petting the black-eyed rodent.

“...Authorities have confirmed that Gilded Lily, niece of railroad tycoon Fancy Pants, has officially been declared missing,” came the clunky radio atop a rotten cardboard box.

“One more screw-up and he’s gonna turn us in. I know it,” Suri said, flatly, waiting for Lightning and Kickstart to join them on the torn-up chairs and couches Mandola had discovered mid-dumpster dive.

“I told you, we shouldn’t have gotten worked in with these ponies, Suri. They’re bad news,” Wallflower said.

“It was this or sleeping on the streets. Take your pick, Miss Hindsight,” Suri replied.

Bon Bon had joined them, dark circles dug in beneath her eyes.

“How’d it go?” Bon Bon asked.

Suri threw up her hooves, destitutely.

“Stay off the streets! Wanted fugitives Suri Polomare and Lightning Rust have been spotted in Oldtown. Canterlot police have issued a statement urging witnesses to report any suspicious activity in the area.”

“What did they call me?” Lightning said, distraught, while Scootaloo lay giggling on the floor nearby.

“At least you got mentioned,” Wallflower smirked.

“Hey, chin up. I’ve got something that may help us out on the next try,” Bon Bon said, retrieving a strange device, held together with tape and rusty screws.

“What exactly am I looking at,” Suri said, flatly.

“It’s what I’ve been working on all week,” Bon Bon said, mildly irritated, “It’s an explosive, it’ll even out our odds a bit.”

“That’s insane,” Wallflower said.

“Desperate times call for-” Bon Bon attempted.

“We can’t put ponies at risk like that,” Wallflower said.

Suri sighed.

“Get back to tinkering, Macgyver. Wallflower’s sticking to softball,” Suri said.

“Sorry if I’m not all smiles and sunshine about cutting deals with criminals.” Wallflower said.

“In case you haven’t noticed, half this city wants us dead, and the other half wants our bits first. Our priority is to survive,” Suri retorted.

“We still have a fighting chance at clearing our names,” Wallflower said, eagerly.

“Not without Starlight and Sunset. Hell, I’d even take Trixie right about now,” Suri said.

“Starlight’s gone, but Sunset could still be out there,” Lightning said, “We should try and look for her. We can’t leave her behind.”

“You mean like how she left us behind?” Kickstart said.

“If she’s got her radio, I can contact her,” Suri said, “If she’s still alive, that is.”

“We don’t need Sunset, alright? She made her gambit, and she lost. She used us. She didn’t care who got hurt. That’s not who we are. We still have a chance to do things the right way. To help ponies.” Wallflower said, “We might be the only ones left that know the truth about Princess Twilight. She’s killed before, she could kill again. It’s up to us to stop her.”

“I think we should cut our losses and get the hell out of this city. All we have to do is settle our debt, and we can put all of this behind us, ‘kay?” Suri said.

“Oh, um, about that,” came Scootaloo, who had been eavesdropping nearby.

Suri begrudgingly turned her attention to the filly.

“Some pony found me outside earlier this morning, he said he was looking for you.”

Suri glanced at Wallflower.

“Who was it?”

“Um, it’s that pony who you’ve talked to before, that stallion with the silver mane.”

“Razor Blade,” Suri said, “What did he want?”

“Something like…the deal’s changed. And he wants you to meet him - today.”

Suri’s eyes widened.

“But….we haven’t got the bits,” Suri said.

“Have fun telling him that,” Lightning said.

“This isn’t a joke. He could turn us in, if he doesn’t feel like taking us out himself,” Suri groaned.

“Don’t get all worked up. I’m coming with you,” Lightning said, “We’ll sort it out.”

“Maybe we could renegotiate,” Wallflower said, “I’m coming too.”

Suri glared at the both of them, but she feared having to go alone, and so made no protest.

Nopony could run forever.

A flock of white doves had been let loose from the north-end spire, marking the princess’ arrival. Most hippogriffs fared poorly on land, but she found Equestria to be a home away from home.

Silver Stream had been asleep for much of the journey east from Newport, to the tune of her mother’s nervous ramblings and dreadful proclamations of how their lives were still in danger.

It had been just over a year since the untimely death of her aunt, Novo, and as it was in much of Equestria, safety was an elusive feeling. Silver Stream found it odd then, that she had been summoned to the capital. Her mother had been coy each time she had raised concern; as far as she knew, she would have thought her own home beneath the sea would be a safer place to stay. Still, any opportunity to travel and meet old friends could not be passed upon.

The pearly glow of the city was unmistakable, a sparkling star fallen from the heavens, perched on a lonely mountain’s face - bathed in sunlight by day, and wrapped in nebulous clouds by night.

Ocean Flow had insisted on the two of them arriving in disguise, for fear of recognition, though little could be done to stamp out a royal welcome.

Her face was glued to the window of her carriage, passing by the markets and the bustling crowds; ponies and creatures of all kinds passed by her view.

Starlight Glimmer is a traitor, the dragons are preparing for war, Twilight Sparkle has been lost to madness…all of the rumors that had engulfed the land had shot straight through Silver Stream’s ear and out the other. She recalled late summer nights at the School of Friendship, playing board games with her friends, procrastinating the study session she had sworn she would attend. It was ludicrous, to think that the ponies who had mentored her, who had molded her into the creature she was today, were not at all as she thought they were.

She expected only for the good old days to continue, when the carriage at last drew to a halt outside the great golden gates of the palace. Velvet adornments and shimmering spear tips marked their arrival, though Ocean Flow stuck her hoof on the door handle to keep Silver Stream from running out.

“Conduct yourself with dignity,” she said, “Be aware of yourself. And especially of others.”

Silver Stream nodded, pretending to take heed.

She sprung out of the carriage door, promptly blinded by the morning sunlight.

There, waiting for her by the great golden gates to the palace were six rows of royal guards, half-a-dozen in each, and alongside them were servants and stewards, dressed in fine silks and vibrant colors. The walls of the palace were a feast to the eyes, adorned with golden fixtures and stone carvings that resembled crashing waves and weaving branches. Sunlight drowned the palace in a heavenly cascade, bursting forth in cloud-spearing ribbons. And there was laughter and joy and music all about, a sweet-sounding song that rang through the stone and marble itself.

“Princess,” said Wedge Ward, the captain of the guard, with a stubbly face and an ash brown coat. His burnt brown mane was cut straight and short, though it was hardly visible underneath his golden helm.

“Welcome to Canterlot,” he said, proudly.

Silver Stream beamed in excitement, biting her lip in anticipation. Flower petals danced in the wind by her eyes, beckoning her to break down in a fit of giggling. Ocean Flow had descended from the carriage to join her daughter, a cautious smile trembling over her lips.

“Silver!” came a thin voice from behind the royal guards.

Ocellus had managed to squeeze herself between the rows of golden plate mail, a smile stretching from ear to ear.

“Ocellus! You’re here!” Silver Stream shrieked, dashing over to embrace her. Ocellus could not help but be throttled, though still she could not subdue her laughter. Silver Stream withdrew, while still holding Ocellus by her shoulders.

“How are you? How have you been? Is everyone else here? Oh. My. Celestia. Wait until I tell you what I saw on the road yesterday. It was the most craziest thing I’ve ever seen, we-”

“Sweetheart,” came Ocean Flow, prompting the guards again to stand at attention.

“I’m sure you two will have lots of time to catch up. The princess must be expecting you,” she said, glancing at Wedge.

He nodded for the guards to step out of the way to allow the guests passage through the gates. Silver Stream was again in awe of the magnificence of the palace, its sweeping spires and splendorous halls filling up the sky.

“I couldn't believe you were coming,” Ocellus said, while the group began their trek up a great outer staircase towards the Great Hall of the palace, “With everything that’s going on, I mean.”

“I still don’t even know why I’m here. My mom said it was serious. Like, what does that even mean?”

Ocellus shrugged.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Silver Stream smiled.

“I wish the others could be too. But Yona’s still stuck in Yakyakistan, Sandbar’s in Newport, Gallus is with the griffins, and Smolder…well, y’know.”

Silver Stream glanced down at her. She did, in fact, not know.

“Everyone says dragons are gearing up for trouble, or something,” Ocellus explained, “Whatever’s going on, I don’t think Smolder’s parents want her hanging out with us anytime soon…”

“But that’s not fair,” Silver Stream winced.

Ocellus had little to say in the way of comfort.

“I’m sure it’ll all get fixed, somehow.”

Wedge Ward led the group to the Great Hall doors, and after two more flights of stairs and a trip down the grandest hallway Silver Stream had ever laid eyes on, they at last arrived before the two great marble doors to Princess Twilight’s throne room, carven to depict heroic acts of history: the Great Alliance’s victory over Cyrax the Monstrous, Gusty the Great’s defeat of Grogar the Conqueror, the Fire of Friendship, and, most recently, the imprisonment of the Legion of Doom.

“Blast from the past. I remember this stuff from school,” Silver Stream muttered in amazement.

Posted by the doors there were two royal guards already present.

Silver Stream quickly caught herself staring at the one closest to her, a young stallion who wore two sets of copper leather faulds that rode along his hind legs, pauldrons of shimmering bronze, and vambraces made of thick brown leather. His helmet hid a fiery mane of reddish brown, and the helm itself bore a thick crest of mahogany feathers. He was a unicorn, tan in color, of firm build. His eyes were a sharp purple, bright as jewels.

“Princess, this is Lieutenant Styles,” Wedge said, having noticed her blushful gaze. If he had not said something, she may have come close to drooling.

“At your service, my lady,” Styles said, bowing his head.

“And Grey Wick,” Wedge continued, nodding towards the other guard posted at the door. He frightened her more than anything else. He had a thin mane of grey strands, an iron face with creases stretching across his cheeks and the edges of his eyes. He had a dense frame, a coarse beard, and a painful hunch. His greeting was merely a grunt.

Silver Stream would have meant to turn her attention back to Styles, before the ensemble of royal guards came crashing to their knees, when Princess Twilight arrived from the opposite side of the hall.

Silver Stream and Ocellus were unsure whether to kneel. Ocean Flow opted not to, instead approaching Twilight with the intent of a hoofshake.

Twilight had a warm smile about her, and a regal elegance that put both Ocellus and Silver Stream on their best behavior. She stood straight as a pillar, and her skin seemed to glow in the sunlight. She exuded light in her very presence, by the flowing star embers of her mane, and the twinkling glow in those cold eyes of violet. It was difficult to recall Twilight as once merely their academy headmare.

“Your highness, it’s good to see you,” Twilight smiled, shaking Ocean Flow’s limp hoof. Ocean Flow was practically trembling, struggling to keep up her facade of confidence.

“Girls! It’s been too long,” Twilight continued, turning to Ocellus and Silver Stream, “I hope you’ve been keeping up with your studies. And staying out of trouble.”

Twilight winked, and Silver Stream could no longer hide her smile.

“You bet, Princess!” Silver Stream replied.

Twilight glanced towards Wedge, who was waiting patiently in the back.

“Captain, You're responsible for her protection.”

Wedge hesitated. Having to babysit was one or two steps below his paygrade.

“As you wish, your grace,” he managed.

“Go show our guests to their rooms. I’m sure you two must be exhausted after your journey,” Twilight said.

“Thank you, Princess, much appreciated,” Ocean Flow replied. She found herself a fool, for having been so worried about having to confront Twilight. She had nearly forgotten all about their last meeting, which had left a sour feeling in her stomach.

The guards had begun to disperse, while Silver Stream and Ocellus resumed their chat. Wedge approached Twilight, close enough for his whisper to be heard.

“I wanted to let you know that Princess Cadance has sent word she’ll be arriving in the city as well. Within the morrow.”

Twilight nodded, and then narrowed her eyes, before glancing over at Silver Stream, “Protect that girl at all costs.”

Wedge nodded.

While Wedge begrudgingly took off to lead Ocean Flow and Silver Stream to their rooms deeper in the palace, Twilight turned to the throne room doors.

She pried them open in a flash of purple light, before gracefully stepping inside.

“Celestia save us,” Styles whispered, having noticed right as the others did that a pony was already waiting inside, propped up on the throne, basking in the stained glass light. Styles reached to draw his sword, as did Grey Wick.

“It’s alright,” Twilight said, motioning for them to stand down.

Twilight stepped lightly down the first few steps into the throne room, taking her time to stroll down the length of the hall. The throne room was like an icebox that day, while the city roasted in the late summer sun.

“What do you think you’re doing, sister?” Twilight asked.

Styles glanced at Grey Wick, before nervously closing the doors behind Twilight.

“Sitting,” was the reply.

“You weren’t expected so soon,” Twilight said, “I can’t remember the last time you visited.”

Cadance shrugged.

“Canterlot has never agreed with me.”

Twilight feigned amusement.

Cadance was dressed in a rose gown that turned to a pattern of crystal dust at its skirt.

“I’d heard you’d fallen ill,” Twilight said.

“The world’s in an uproar. Better to keep our enemies confused.”

“If only our enemies were as reckless as they are misguided,” Twilight rebutted.

“You’re right. Lies do spread like a sickness.”

Twilight had arrived at the throne steps, her head tilted to the side, playfully.

“Why did you come back, Cadance?”

Cadance smirked, leaning in from the throne. She sat as though she was made for it.

“...To take my seat on the royal council, as is my right. I thought an old friend might need my help.”

“You say it as though you’d think I’d want to be rid of you.”

“You wound me. I just worry, is all. About the order of things here.”

“Pity that it can’t be changed so readily,” Twilight said.

“Can’t it?” Cadance said.

Twilight’s face twitched.

“Sister,” Twilight said, “You will always be welcome here.”

“I would expect no less from the Princess of Friendship,” Cadance said, grinning, “Which is why I intend to stay here. At your side. Our allies are turning against us, it would seem. I won't sit idly while Equestria succumbs to war. You should need all the help you may have.”

Cadance continued on past Twilight, heading for the doors.

Cadance found it almost jolting, to be at odds with her old friend, her sister, though she had made it her purpose to rein in Twilight as best as she was able, for the sake of the realm. There was no telling what kind of damage could be further caused by such raw power. She would stick to what she knew was right, no matter the costs to her heart, or sanity.

Twilight, meanwhile, was almost certain that Cadance knew the truth, but how could she act on such a risk, she had no idea. Novo, Ember, Thorax, and all of the others, their blood would forever be on her hooves. That much she had accepted long ago. But that of her own kin, she feared she did not have the strength for such treachery. There seemed to be no end to the cruelty of her predicament, she realized. Perhaps it was becoming rather simple: kill or be killed.

Rain boots caked in mud came trudging over stray twigs and fallen leaves. The forest felt most alive when it was raining. Drizzling drops shook the deep green leaves of Everfree, where, beneath its damp canopy, a young filly sprang across creekbed stones, careful not to trip. The rocks were slick and slippery, though she found a strange thrill in the threat of an imminent catastrophe. The voices of her parents would speak louder in her mind at times like these, beckoning her to be careful, to come inside where it was warm and safe.

But those were just memories now, and she was free to do as she wished, at her own risk. Here in the woods, she found solace in solitude, where she was free to sit and roam, to play and pretend that she would never have to leave again.

But the hour was late already, and she knew better than to stay out in the Everfree Forest after sundown. As much as she loved to brave such danger, even she feared what fell things crept there in the dark.

Ponyville was still undergoing remarkable renovations since the incident. Countless homes still had to be rebuilt, and some feared a recovery would deprive the town of what little resources they had left. Many had already abandoned ship in fear of whatever horror may come next.

The wrath of Sunset Shimmer left only ten dead when all was said and done; though, for many of the survivors, their lives were all but destroyed.

Her thoughts drifted back to embers dying in the firelight; how her father’s snoring would keep her up from the other room, or how he always had trouble saying goodbye to the visiting handyponies he had befriended. She recalled her mother’s enamorment with amassing a library of books in their home, to fulfill a childhood dream of running her very own bookstore. Those dreams, those bitter annoyances, those afternoon laughing fits were things of the past now. The world looked different, she had begun to realize. Some hazy shade of rose had melted off the trees, and while the breeze once brought her comfort, now she only felt the cold.

Every time she shut her eyes, she could make out the agony on her mother’s face, the moment before she was torn into a red mist. And her father, lost in a cold embrace.

None of it made sense to her. Why was she given life while her parents were cursed to die? She had nothing left at all, it would seem, nothing to live for, and nothing to die for. She was too young to succumb to these thoughts, she told herself, she could not just give up. But she yearned for a reason. A greater purpose that as of then, evaded her. She had no one to guide her, no one except herself.

She passed through the dusty streets of Ponyville, where flakes of ash still danced through the air like snowfall.

Night swept over the town in a billowing breeze, where the hill grass shuddered and the moon peered down from above. Though she had spent most of her nights sleeping in a cardboard box over in an alleyway on old M Street, tonight Juno had been promised a night’s rest in the care of her classmate, Apple Bloom. The barn may have stunk to high heaven, but it was a shelter nonetheless.

Her own home had collapsed during the fires. And with the house went the hoofball her father had caught from the stands with her at his side, and her favorite dolls in polka-dot dresses, and her grandmother’s delicate, storied quilts.

She tried to knock her mind off of the past, by the time she had arrived at Apple Acres, where she could enjoy her hosts’ warm hearth and pantries of food. For a while, she could call this place a home.

“Got some apple fritters waiting in the oven, one for each of you,” Sugar Belle said, briefly sticking her head into the living room, before Big Mac reeled her back towards him in the kitchen.

“Get a room,” Apple Bloom grinned, before turning back to Juno, “They never stop.”

Juno snickered.

“As long as they don’t touch the food, after,” Juno said.

Apple Bloom giggled.

“Hey, uh, thanks for inviting me over. It means a lot,” Juno said. She had rarely been invited anywhere by anypony, to the point that at first she had thought this to be some cruel prank.

“Whatever you need, ah’m here to help,” Apple Bloom smiled.

“It means a lot,” Juno said, shyly, "Are your friends around, too?"

Apple Bloom’s smile faded.

“‘Fraid not. Sweetie’s been up in Canterlot for ages. Homesick like heck, probably. And Scootaloo, nopony’s seen her in forever. Story is she went travelin’ the world with her folks,” Apple Bloom said, “Ah guess it’s good they wasn’t here, y’know, since…” Apple Bloom said, trailing off. “Hey, sorry, ah shouldn’t have-”

“No, hey, it’s fine,” Juno said, “Actually…I was meaning to ask you something. Your sister and her friends…Have they talked at all? About what happened?” Juno asked, nervous of what the answer would be.

Apple Bloom choked on her words, careful not to misspeak.

“Applejack’s been over at the mayor’s all week. Her and Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie. Ah don’t know where everypony else was. All ah I know is they’ve been working out plans for how to rebuild, help ponies that’re hurt, y’know, stuff like that…She said they don’t want to be leavin’ Ponyville defenseless, even to hunt down the perp. Not that they’d have much luck, nopony got a good look at whoever started it all. Some folks blamed the fires on a lightnin’ storm, ah heard.”

Juno shook her head in disbelief. She glanced at the floor, wondering if she had been mistaken about what she saw.

But she was sure of it, she was convinced - those bloody cyan eyes, that red and gold mane, that twisted horn.

Sunset Shimmer. That was the name her father had spoken, that had set her heart ablaze. Everypony was too afraid to remember, but Juno remembered.

“Thanks for inviting me over, but, uh, I gotta run, actually,” Juno said, abruptly. She could hardly sit still in her chair.

“Huh? Are ya sure?” Apple Bloom asked, “Ah know this has gotta be hard on ya. Ah know what it’s like, to lose ponies that mean a lot to ya, parents, ah mean. Ah thought ah could help.”

“I know, and thank you, but I just…I really gotta go.”

“B-But what about the apple fritters?” Apple Bloom continued.

“You can have mine!”

Apple Bloom opened her mouth to attempt another persuasive plea, though Juno had already sprang around and tore off, breaking off towards the door.

“Thanks! Sorry! Bye!”

Apple Bloom watched her race out through the door, baffled.

But Juno had already disappeared into the dark.

In dreams, those starbound illustrations of bloodstained treachery may have served well enough as a week’s quota of reality-adjustment nightmares. Eyes unblinking, hollow bones, empty screams. It had never been as she had heard about in songs or bedtime stories.

She had imagined it to be more romantic, to take a life. But at times it had felt more like a chore. She would hate to say she was getting used to the idea.

Twilight Sparkle frequented her balcony perch when the moon was at its brightest. Her thoughts seemed to ring clearer, when the city was almost still, when the stars in the sky stood unmoving. She could never look at them for long, before she could make out the vestiges of those slain by her hoof. Memories outlived the blood.

She had told nopony of Spike’s untimely demise, not while she had every one of her acolytes and spellbinders working day and night to discover some supernatural means of unholy resurrection. She had never felt so desperate in her life for anything other than to save him, though she feared she had already run out of time. To cheat death was a power that evaded even her.

She wondered whether she should have killed Sunset Shimmer and been done with it, though, she would remind herself, more death would do nothing to remedy her broken heart, nor a fractured Equestria. All that had transpired was ultimately her doing, whether intentional or not.

Why protect Celestia? Ember had demanded. Why turn her enemy into ours as well?

We should make peace, Thorax said, We can make an arrangement. We can avoid war.

But she had been certain of it, she had told them all, never more certain of anything. The dream she had was clearer than a memory. Equestria would be brought to ruin, born again into these usurpers' fire, burning all that anypony might hold dear. She had seen Canterlot aflame, mountains of corpses damming the Crescendo, infecting its waters with maggots and black rot. The sun and the moon had been driven from the sky, and the land would toil in an eternal darkness. The faces of all those she knew and loved were buried in ash and soot, while the fires ravaged and roared. The screams of survivors cursed to be tortured and tormented would echo into the starless void, the new dominion over Equestria.

But Ember paid her no mind, and neither did Posh, or any of them. It was unanimous. The lot of them came to terms, to tarnish Celestia’s legacy and lend their support to the creature across sea, the bygone vengeance who desired only to conquer Equestria.

Twilight grieved for them, and for the catastrophe of her foreseen future. What was the might of any sorcerer, or warrior, or politician, compared to the power of prophecy? She was bound by duty, sworn by countless oaths and the trust of the ponies she was charged to protect; she could not allow Equestria to meet its doom.

She had pleaded with Ember, Thorax, Novo, and the others, time and time again. They could not reveal the truth about Celestia, she said, the threat beyond the sea would be their doom, and they ought to fight back. But the others would only see things their way.

If you are not with us, you are against us.

She recalled Posh Paramount among them, who had dismissed her pleas as the attempts of an apprentice to protect her teacher’s legacy. Twilight recoiled at the thought. If they had all been less arrogant and simply listened to her, she may have been able to spare their lives. All of them were vultures, tempted unto a path of wickedness. My friends. She had to remind herself again and again. If she was so certain she had to do it, why did her heart still grieve?

She had long been raised on the prospect of heroes. Ponies that fought against impossible odds, or impossible dilemmas. But the songs never mentioned the rest of those heroes’ stories. How Gusty the Great was a weak ruler who reduced the unicorn tribe to squalor. How the Great Alliance committed mass killings of innocent dragon villages, all in the name of peace.

Being a hero was never an intrinsic quality, she understood. Only a fleeting experience that one may hope to embody for a brief period of time. Now, evil otherwise festered in the rudimentary. But true harmony could return, somehow, someday. But the path was narrow, and cruel, and in bringing Equestria back into the light, she would have to destroy herself, completely. Pieces of her were being chipped away, already, first with Celestia, then Sunset, then Ember and the others, and Starlight. Starlight, most of all. The perils ahead would be kinder. But she could not balk. She could not obtain from the destiny thrust upon her. Tirek, Cozy Glow, Chrysalis, none of them could be redeemed. Friendship had failed. And this final enemy, this horror waiting across the shores, would be no less stubborn. Friendship would return, and harmony too, but only after this final plunge, this final reckoning with the sins of Celestia, that had warped Equestria and brought about its decay. The blood would not go down in the history books. But the victor would.

Sunlight fell in soft paint-strokes through the rust frame windows, a golden dusty swill encompassing the Royal Council Chamber.

Twilight had arrived late, as it was, having been preoccupied with her own introspective dread.

She had forgotten that Cadance was insisting on being in attendance, claiming her spot on the council table, opposite the long table to Twilight herself.

Twilight had grown suspicious of her other councilors: the slithery Treasury Secretary, Featherglass, the cryptic Chief Intelligence Officer, Marius Moonshine, and the headstrong Captain of the Guard, Wedge Ward. A fresh face would have been welcome, if it had been anypony other than Cadance.

There was a cold glow to Cadance’s eyes, as if the North had turned her blood to ice already.

Twilight paid no mind to Cadance’s uninvited attendance, however. The last thing she would want was to draw suspicion of animosity between them. Still, Twilight wondered what exactly Cadance knew, and, more importantly, whether she could prove whatever it was. There could be no other reason for her visit, Twilight figured, than to be a thorn in her side.

“Let’s begin,” Twilight said, taking her seat at the far end of the great council table.

“Our naval scouts have reported sightings of dragons and sea serpents en route from the east. They’re mobilizing in the Badlands as we speak,” said Marius Moonshine, whose puffy perfume scents had conquered the room.

“Princess, it’s my suggestion that we send reinforcements to the Velvet Regiment’s position on the southern border, as soon as possible,” said Wedge Ward, his clunky golden armor shifting as he leaned closer in.

“If you hadn’t sent the Velvets there to begin with, perhaps the dragons would not have felt the need to bolster their own forces,” Twilight said, narrowing her eyes. Wedge sat back in his seat.

“The dragons will not risk war. Not while the rest of Equestria stands united against them,” Marius countered. “We should make haste with this marriage pact.”

Cadance glanced at Twilight, confused.

“Silver Stream. A former student of mine. Her mother, Ocean Flow, wears the crown in Seaquestria, until her niece Skystar comes of age,” Twilight explained.

“And you mean to barter this poor girl off for political favors?” Cadance asked, disgusted.

“Solidarity against the dragons will be the only thing that may keep them in check. A union between kingdoms would accomplish that,” Marius said.

“And who is this lucky suitor you’ve picked out?” Cadance asked.

“The Grand Galloping Gala will begin in a fortnight. Creatures from across the realm will be there,” Featherglass said, “Countless candidates.”

“We should allow her to at least choose her match, to seek them out,” Twilight said.

Cadance shook her head, uneasy.

“And what about the dragons in the meantime?” Cadance inquired.

“Dragons favor total war. They’ll cut off our shipping lanes, sever supply lines and starve out our holdfasts. We need to reinforce our ports, cautiously, in a way that will not escalate anything,” Twilight advised.

“The dragons are weak for now,” Wedge said, “Disorganized, angry, ambitious. We should strike first while they’re still preparing. Remind them what their oaths are good for.”

“I fear he may be right,” Featherglass said, “We don’t have enough food to sustain a prolonged war.”

“No,” Twilight snapped, “We avoid bloodshed as long as possible.”

“Bloodshed is inevitable,” Cadance said, coldly, “Any chance for peace was lost the moment their empress lost her head.”

She spoke as if she was making an accusation, plain enough that even the distracted Wedge Ward had taken notice.

Twilight narrowed her eyes, while the others remained silent. Marius glanced at Cadance, hesitantly.

“War is coming. We either embrace it or run from it. But we cannot idly await it,” Cadance said.

"She's right," Featherglass said, "Since our Captain of the Guard made his accusation, the dragons have wanted nothing but war. They surround themselves in a fog for a reason. They prepare for war, while we still futilely plot for peace."

"The attempt on Lavender's life was made with a dragonsteel dagger," Wedge reminded, "The dragons hired that cutthroat. It was the dragons who began this all, back in Ponyville. We know the truth now."

"No one will ever know the truth of what began this all," Cadance said, glancing at Twilight, "But the truth doesn't matter now. Lives are at stake. War is at our doorstep. We need to prepare, before the dragons take us by surprise."

“Captain, I want you to commit two platoons each to Shimmering Spires and Saddleopolis,” Twilight said, shifting her attention away from Cadance’s gaze.

“Shimmering Spires?” Wedge repeated, baffled, “The dragons will come from the southeast, not the southwest, princess.”

“Thank you for the geography lesson,” Twilight rebutted, “Balancing military commitments may dispel any assumption that we’re acting in response to the dragons’ recent activity. At the same time the dragons may yet be deterred,” Twilight said, "The Velvet Regiment is already at the border. If the dragons attack the border, we'll have auxiliary forces nearby on the opposite coast to cross eastward and add additional support."

While she spoke partial truths, her greatest priority was to improve upon the west’s defense, anticipating a certain threat from beyond the sea waging war in the not-so-distant future. She did not trust her advisors with such sensitive intelligence, though, nor did she seek to worsen the mass hysteria with vague threats of a vengeful foreign conqueror.

“As you wish,” Wedge replied, somewhat discontented.

Twilight sighed and sat back in her chair.

“That will be all,” Twilight concluded.

The council members rose from their seats, collectively filing out towards the door.

Twilight remained, transfixed on her reflection in the nearest window’s glass.

Wrought with guilt, Twilight withdrew also from the council room, storming back up to the confines of her own bedchamber.

Cadance, meanwhile, had meant to retire to her quarters for the day, though her plans were foiled by the hollow voice of Marius Moonshine, whose brow was beaded with sweat.

“Princess,” came the portly pig-faced stallion, bowing respectfully.

“Marius, you scared me,” Cadance said.

“A touch of subtlety is often to one’s benefit. You would be wise to start learning that,” Marius said.

Cadance raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”

“You’ve come here to outwit her, I will tell you such a thing is not easily done.”

Cadance hesitated, before coming to terms with the now-necessitated confrontation.

“Are there others so self-interested that they’ll play along while a tyrant sits the throne?”

“No, if that you makes feel better. My spies tell me the truth is still scarce. That's how I prefer it. You mean to overcome the web of lies she has strung, I tell you it is a fool’s errand. She has progressed past the point of reason.”

“Maybe. But Equestria hasn’t,” Cadance countered, “When ponies find out the truth-”

“Twilight will have nothing left to stop her,” Marius said, “Don’t take a stand. Not yet. The time isn’t right. The power she wields is too great.”

“I came to this city to prevent Equestria from further chaos and calamity. Mine is one of a few voices Equestria still trusts. If I tell the world what she really is, we can put all of this uncertainty behind us. There will be no more cause for war with the dragons. And if they persist, then I will be leading Equestria against them, not Twilight."

Marius glared at her.

“You know just half the truth, then,” Marius said.

Cadance twitched.

Marius suddenly became withdrawn, retreating a step backwards.

“You know more,” Cadance demanded, and Marius’ eyes gave it away, “...You know why.”

“Some secrets are better to remain that way.”

Cadance sighed, and shook her head, undeterred.

“I’m tired of the lies. I came here to end this. And I will.”

Cadance took a step towards him. Marius seemed to resent the attempt at intimidation.

“Our peace hangs by a thread,” Marius said, “If the truth comes out, Equestria will tear itself apart. You act as though ponies will accept your word lightly. They are suspicious, fearful, hungry. When they find out their darling princess isn’t the saint they thought her to be….Thousands will die. Will you risk everything just for revenge, for pride?”

“For justice,” Cadance said.

Marius opened his mouth again to protest, though Cadance had already spun around towards the stairwell corridor.

He watched helplessly as Cadance stormed off down one of the dark passageways.

TV static had long drowned out her ears in a droll vacuum, while her mind shifted along soft spots of fuzzy memories and dark visions.

Solitary confinement suited her, she thought.

Trixie Lulamoon had kept herself stowed away in that room, surrounded by four grey walls, bathing in fluorescent light. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to walk beneath the sunrays. A light had been lost inside of her, ever since the news had reached her.

Starlight Glimmer is dead.

What a friend she was, she thought, to have failed to stop her. To have given in to the foolish hope of a happy ending.

She had little in the way of desire beyond lying in her own misery. Her hosts were a secretive bunch, to her fortune, though, and had little issue ignoring her. The Erased, as they were called, had been struggling to get a step ahead of their current predicament, ever since the fiasco with Twilight and Starlight. Spies, codebreakers, assassins, the best in the world were still being undermined by Twilight Sparkle. Trixie almost felt relief, that she wasn’t the only one to play second-fiddle to that bratty know-it-all.

She broke away from those sour thoughts, when the door’s creaking snapped her to attention.

A stallion was waiting idly in the door frame, his withered grey glance sending a cold shiver down Trixie’s spine.

“Now’s not a good time,” Trixie muttered, turning back to the other side of her bed.

The stallion scoffed.

“I should start charging rent,” said the stallion. He was Alias, the Chief of the Erased, the first pony to speak to her in days.

“Is this my eviction notice?” Trixie spat.

Alias’ glare softened, as if to redesign his approach.

“...Glimmer gave it her best shot. If she hadn’t been so brash, she would have made a strong ally down the road.”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Trixie snapped, “You didn’t care about her. All you do is use ponies.”

“You’re right,” Alias replied, “I hardly knew Starlight. But I know she wouldn’t have wanted you to waste away, sulking down here.”

“Way to pull at the heartstrings,” Trixie said, “Let me know when you find a new grave to dance on.”

“She’s gone,” Alias said, “Gone. And there’s nothing you or anypony else can do about it.”

Trixie’s strength gave out once again.

“My offer still stands. There's a place for you here,” Alias said.

“There are faster ways to meet an early grave.”

“But none so exciting,” Alias said.

“You’re wasting your time. I was only ever along for the ride for Starlight. Without her, I’m…” Trixie said, trailing off.

“It’s my belief that there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

“Well you’ve got a funny way of showing it,” Trixie said.

“The choice is yours. Return to a peaceful life, somewhere dull and far from harm…Or, you can finish what Starlight started.”

Trixie shook her head.

“I’m not the hero you’re looking for.”

Alias shook his head.

“I have made mistakes. Costly mistakes. But this, I’m sure of. You, Ms. Lulamoon, are exactly the pony I’m looking for.”

Alias extended his hoof towards her.

Trixie stared into the old stallion’s eyes, and for a moment, she could almost imagine Starlight there beside him.

Trixie took a breath, wary of forgoing a chance to escape the fray she had all but unwittingly been thrust into.

She shook her head, as if subconsciously telling herself to refuse him, to run away. But she could not pull away, as she discovered; the fickle temptress of adventure had overcome her.

Their hooves met in the middle, shaking on the spot.

Wallflower, Lightning, and Suri climbed up the fire escape stairs, wary of the sun’s spotlight, or the ringing of royal spears.

“Somepony’s going to spot us,” Wallflower warned, frantically glancing over her shoulder.

Lightning, who was clad in a pink leather jacket and a black hoofball cap, shot her a dismissive glare.

“You worry too much, Wallflower,” Lightning said, “Oh, and this better not take too long. I’ve got a date with the pull-up bar in an hour.”

“You didn’t have to tag along.”

“Quiet, both of you,” Suri scoffed, “We’re almost there.”

“Old Razor Blade thinks he can hustle us for more bits, sounds about right, that toothless pig.” Lightning said.

“Don’t instigate anything,” Wallflower said, concerned, “We might be able to talk ourselves out of this.”

“Talk is cheap,” Lightning said, “And I’m getting tired of playing nice.”

“Lightning, you can’t take on all of Razor Blade’s goons,” Wallflower laughed.

“Well, it’s worth a try,” Lightning grinned, throwing some practice-punches in the air.

“I said quiet,” Suri snapped, “I’ll be doing the talking. Neither of you are to speak. Got it?”

Suri led them to the third floor of the apartment building by its fire escape, creeping in through a window left ajar.

The smell had hit her first, before she took her first step inside.

Suri’s mouth hung agape, in horror.

Bodies littered the floor around them. The room was painted red in blood, yellow-brown entrails and shreds of skin rotting in the humidity.

Wallflower immediately felt like throwing up as the smell overcame her. She retreated back outside to the fire escape.

Lightning climbed in first, stepping right into a puddle of spilled organs.

“Sweet stratocumulus,” she whispered, “How many are there?”

“That’s Razor Blade,” Suri said, noticing one of the bodies.

Wallflower had regained the courage to venture back inside.

“I got them killed,” Suri said, mournfully.

“That’s not true,” Wallflower said, consolingly.

Wallflower had retrieved her portable camera from her satchel, and had begun snapping photographs, hoping to learn more with closer examination.

She jumped back in fright, however, when she noticed one of the dead was very much alive, sliding in a puddle of blood.

Wallflower nervously knelt beside him on the ground, helping him into his back.

There was a burning red hole in his chest, leaking blood like a creekbed.

“Wallflower,” Suri said, hesitant to allow her in close proximity to him.

But the stallion could hardly move.

Wallflower reached for her canteen in her satchel, and offered the stallion a sip. He accepted it, greedily gulping down drops, right up until his body fell limp.

Wallflower’s eyes widened. She dropped the canteen and rose to her hooves, glancing back at the others.

“Somepony’s hunting us down,” Lightning said.

“Razor Blade had enough enemies already,” Suri said, “This could have nothing to do with us.”

“You think it’s a coincidence that the same day he comes knocking on our door, asking to see us, he and all his goons get hacked to pieces? Somepony’s on our trail!” Lightning yelled.

While the two of them sparred, Wallflower could no longer contain herself, desperate to speak her own mind.

“Would you listen to me now?” Wallflower said, catching the others’ attention, “We’re dead no matter what we do, right? We might as well start fighting back. We can make a change for the better, before we lose that chance.”

Suri glanced at Lightning, and sighed.

“Starlight believed in us. We should too,” Wallflower continued.

“Wallflower,” Suri said, “Starlight got herself killed, fighting a battle she couldn’t win. Twilight Sparkle, the royal guards, bounty hunters…We don’t stand a chance. We're not sorcerers, we're not soldiers...What’s the point in trying? All we’ve ever done is make things worse,” Suri said, flatly.

“You’re wrong,” Wallflower said, “When I was in Hellhatch, I’d given up. But you all helped me. I wouldn’t call that making everything worse. I know we can’t catch a break, but…we have to keep trying. So what do you say?”

Suri rolled her eyes and stormed off out towards the window, while Lightning too struggled to adhere to Wallflower’s plea.

“Sorry, Wallflower,” she said.

Wallflower sighed while Lightning followed after Suri.

She wiped the blood off of her hooves.

She had to prove them wrong.

Manehattan motel shutters wept black tears of gutter rain, shivering in the traffic breeze. Room 208 held the tumbledown reststop’s lone occupant: an old stallion, withering on strength while the hours drew later into the night, and closer to the unwelcome hail of dawn.

Gruff Granger had trouble keeping his hooves from shaking, while the ceiling seemed to rattle in the rain.

He was an aging stallion, an earth pony with a greying, thin beard, a face like leather, and dark circles beneath his eyes.

His visitor had just arrived, stamping out a cigarette in a doorside ashtray.

The visitor sauntered in from the rain, before his eyes began wandering about the dilapidated room Gruff had made into his makeshift home.

He waited in the doorway, his eyes dancing down towards the shag carpet, littered with insect carcasses, ash, and bodily fluids of unknowable origin.

Gruff stood a few yards away, deeper in the dark, lit only by the grey fuzz of the television.

He adjusted his belt, and hobbled down to his seat by a small dinner table, between the bed and the television.

The visitor was idle in the doorway, waiting while Gruff proceeded to pour out two glasses of ale.

The visitor stalked on towards him, his eyes locked onto Gruff and every movement he made.

He took his seat.

Gruff took a swig of his glass, and the visitor took a sip in reply.

“You’re Salt Shaker?” Gruff asked.

The visitor smirked, amused. Gruff’s confident front dropped in an instant.

“Tell Salt Shaker I’ve told him all I know,” Gruff sputtered. He cursed himself for revealing the fear swirling inside him, “Tell him I want to live in peace. I know nothing about the case.”

The visitor, who had glanced down at his drink, was suddenly interested again.

“It’s disappeared. If he had listened, we could have been spared all of this…I can’t tell Salt Shaker what happened to the case…Go back and tell him that,” Gruff continued.

The visitor’s smile faded. Gruff returned to his glass.

“Word’s been you’ve had a visitor.”

Gruff froze with the glass to his lips.

“Salt knows it,” the visitor continued, “Named Brandy. So either Brandy came by here, or Salt’s got it all wrong.”

Gruff’s eyes faltered, as if distraught to have no other means out but to concede.

“...He’s not wrong,” he said.

The visitor grunted.

“All I want is the name Brandy’s hiding under now.”

“Why would she be using another name?”

“Because otherwise I would have found her already. When I start off to find somebody I find them. That’s why they pay me," he said.

Gruff was wary, unable to sit still in his chair.

“And what’s Salt paying you?”

The visitor was silent.

“What is he paying you for murdering me?!” Gruff demanded.

The visitor snickered.

“5,000 bits. To get the name.”

The visitor narrowed his eyes.

“Just the name,” the visitor repeated.

The words were stuck in Gruff’s throat.

“Menteuse. That’s what they’re calling her now.”

The visitor nodded his head.

There was a silence, broken when Gruff at last rose from the table, slowly dragging his hooves over towards one of his bedside cupboards. He retrieved a small satchel, heavy with the weight of coins.

He tossed the bag over to the visitor.

“That’s another 5,000. Take it. And leave me be.”

The visitor’s eyes flickered down to the gold. Granger had thought this to be a clever distraction, reaching for his pistol tucked in his belt holster.

The blast of the visitor’s pistol shook dust from the ceiling, and in a flash of light Gruff Granger lay dead in a puddle of blood, pouring out from the hole shot straight through his chest.

The visitor watched as the smoke cleared.

The visitor rose from his seat, finished his drink, and collected the gold.

The door flew open, and in burst a panicked Rainbow Dash.

“Blondie!” Rainbow stammered, unable to make him out in the dark.

Blondie arrived beside her, sheathing his pistol.

“Nice going. Let’s get out of here.”

The two of them broke off in the rain towards a parked carriage waiting on the curb of an old warehouse.

“That’s the last time we send you to negotiate,” Rainbow muttered.

"How's that? I made us a profit," Blondie said, jingling the gold in his hoof.

Blondie proceeded to open the trunk of the carriage, checking to see if their prisoner had made any progress breaking free of her chains.

Redshift, a royal lieutenant, had been stuck in that trunk for what felt like days, covered in sweat, wrapped in ropes from head to hoof. Her horn was fixed with a makeshift magic inhibitor, made of spare parts by Blondie. She writhed in frustration, and yelled something he could not understand.

He slammed the trunk closed and made his way to the front, where Rainbow had already climbed in.

Waiting in the reins of the carriage was Salt Shaker himself, a giant of a stallion, white in color bearing a silver-grey beard and a rigid glare. His watch was to the exact hour, and his suit was spotless from head to hoof. But he had a wicked sickness twisting behind those eyes, as if teetering on a line of precision and madness.

“The name’s Menteuse,” Blondie said, having to speak up while the downpour endured.

“And Granger?” Salt Shaker inquired.

Blondie was silent.

Salt Shaker nodded, and shrugged.

“He was a loose cannon. I had a feeling he’d try for it. It’s done. You’ll get your bits, my friend.”

"I don't know why you can't handle this yourself," Blondie said.

"It's that pretty face of yours, Blondie. Who could say no to you?" Salt laughed, “We're ready, then. You still insist on bringing that tinhead with us? She’s rightfully dead weight.

“She knows our faces. We can’t let her go," Blondie said.

“I was suggesting cutting her loose," Salt said, before making a gesture with his hoof slicing past his throat.

Blondie winced.

“Royals will be looking for her. She could be worth a ransom,” Blondie suggested.

“Have it your way. You are sure about this, yes?"

"...Are you nervous?"

"What?" Salt was flustered. "Certainly not."

"You are," Blondie said, snickering, "You've never left Manehattan before, have you?"

"Once or twice, for work," Salt said, grimly, "It's never been a fun experience."

“This time you've got us,” Rainbow interjected, sticking her head through the seats from the back.

“Alright. I’ll be having the bounty on that briefcase, you’ll find your star-crossed lover, and your prismatic friend can lighten your spirits, poor devil," Salt laughed, "Now go pull the carriage."

"You're stronger, you should pull it," Blondie advised.

"It's me who calls the shots now, Blondie, remember? And I say, you will pull the-"

"I'll pull the carriage," Rainbow said, rolling her eyes.

As Rainbow climbed back outside, Blondie's thoughts turned to Brandy. He would see her again, he thought. He would catch the ever-elusive pony that wavered on being an imagined fantasy. South to the city of kings, he would find her.

Canterlot.

A morning knock on the bedchamber door reeled Cadance out of bed, propelling her to crawl out from her sheets to greet the early visitor. Casting a quick spell to freshen up, she had half a mind to ignore the knock and carry about her morning routine.

Cadance opened the door, and a smile broke out onto her face.

“Rarity,” Cadance exclaimed, leaning in for an embrace. The white unicorn could not help but smile the same, glad to be in an old friend’s company once again.

“Here, come in, let me get you something to eat, or drink, or-” Cadance began.

“Oh, that’s quite alright, darling. I actually had wished to speak with you,” Rarity explained, stepping inside Cadance’s quarters.

Cadance shut the door, cautiously checking to see if anypony was lurking outside.

“It’s Twilight,” Rarity began, wasting no time.

Cadance blinked.

Rarity sighed.

“I know the truth, and so do you. I imagine that’s why you’ve graced Canterlot with your presence.”

Cadance froze, though Rarity gave her no chance to reply.

“I was too frightened to do anything about it, until I heard you’d arrived…Whatever I can do to help, name it," Rarity said.

Cadance took a seat by her fireplace, her eyes swirling wildly, processing.

“I would never wish violence upon Twilight. Even after what she’s done.”

Rarity nodded, in agreement.

“She’s my friend. She always will be. But nopony sits above the law. She’s going to be taken into custody. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Alright,” Rarity said, weakly, “You must promise me you won’t hurt her,” Rarity said.

Cadance’s eyes darted back to Rarity, cast in shadow.

“I promise.”

The winds of winter had paid welcome to the visitor prince, clad in buckling silver armor. It was all ceremonial, the townsfolk supposed, though it made for quite a sight.

The sun was long hidden by the grey waste in the sky, that wept flakes of snow to bury the North deep. Light reflected off the prince’s armor, first a glimmering star over the distant snowbanks.

The castle-city of Rhinefrost was weathered, having withstood centuries of battle and blistering cold. Dark stone made up the keep, and within it were gentle homes of oak, cut from the surrounding forests.

Shining Armor had come with a sprinkling of lieutenants and attendants, and, most concerningly, without his wife. Cadance had been bedridden when he left, moaning of some crippling sickness. But he could not wait for her recovery, not while time had slipped away from him.

The city was silent, mournful while he and his entourage were led through the gate. He did not blame them. Their lord’s corpse was hardly cold.

“My prince,” came a stallion, five years Shining’s junior. He had a clean face and bright blue eyes, a curly mane black as coal, a tannish-grey coat, and a soldier’s build. It had been years since Shining had seen the boy, though he managed to reason this was Prince Boreas’ son, and a former squire of his.

They had met deep in the courtyard of the castle market, a crowd of soldiers and peasants having formed around them.

“Broadwing,” Shining Armor said, having just recalled the name.

Broadwing smiled, as if relieved to have been remembered at all.

“I’ve come on behalf of the empire, to offer my condolences.”

“This means a great deal, sir,” Broadwing replied, “My father often spoke highly of you.”

“He was a father to me as well, I was grieved to hear the news," Shining said.

Broadwing nodded.

“Won’t you come inside? My mother would be honored if-”

“Of course,” Shining Armor said, abruptly, shaking some snow out of his mane, “Lead the way.”

Broadwing wasted no time escorting the prince, trudging through the snow towards the inner castle keep.

Inside, up a well of great stone steps, and down a passage by the torchlight, Shining Armor arrived before a proper host of grieving knights, lords, and servants, collected in quiet droves with their eyes cast to the floor.

“Celestia save us,” exclaimed an older mare, whose face was worn grey, who was clad in a black woolen dress, “Your highness!” she continued, rushing through the crowd of ponies to meet the newest arrival.

“Lady Primrose,” Shining Armor said, and they embraced. She had a warmness to her, as though she was radiant with grace.

“You honor us,” she said.

“I regret not having been here when he passed,” Shining said, “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

“It’s been a…difficult few days, yes. He went peacefully. Stubborn old goat, he wasn’t once afraid. But he hated to prolong things. Death, principally.”

Shining smiled.

“He raised a fine stallion here,” Shining said, shifting his gaze to Broadwing.

“You’re kind,” Primrose said, “Darling, why don’t you go find your sister, and introduce her to the prince?”

“...Of course,” Broadwing said, hesitantly.

“You must tell me more about what’s been happening in the south, I’ve heard such dreadful rumors,” Primrose said, taking Shining by his leg to trot off with him in the court.

Broadwing found his sister, a young mare, pale blue with a fiery red-orange mane, giggling with her friends in the center of the room, sipping on near-empty chalices of wine.

“Bellflower,” he said, startling her.

“Whoever bought this sour swill, I want them thrown into the iron cells. It’s absolutely ghastly," she said.

“Then it should fit its drinker,” Broadwing smirked, “Mother’s sent for you. The prince is here.”

Bellflower dropped her glass to the floor, shattering it.

“The prince?” Bellflower said, “Without his princess?”

Broadwing said nothing. Bellflower quickly began toying with her mane, an anxious grin stretching onto her face.

“Where’s Orion?” Broadwing asked.

Bellflower glared at him.

“Brooding, somewhere, no doubt. I’ve no idea," she said, dismissively. “How do I look?”

“A pig would make a better suitress,” Broadwing said, before trotting off through the crowd.

He made for the nearby balcony, which had been blanketed in snow.

There was where the casket still lay for the wake, though his father’s face was long obscured beneath the snow that adorned it. This was the custom of the Frost Ponies, to leave the body out for one day’s time, before setting it ablaze that night.

Another stallion was sitting off by the edge of the stone railing, hidden from the view of the festivities inside. He had a lighter grey coat than Broadwing, and a dark brown-black head of curls. Unlike the other members of his family, however, Orion bore a horn and not a pair of wings. He was some magical anomaly, the doctors said, or, as most ponies chose to believe, the product of an affair.

“I’d think you a corpse too, at first glance,” Broadwing japed, glancing up at the dense snowfall, shuddering in the piercing winds.

“There’s no place for me in there,” Orion muttered.

“So you say.”

“So mother says,” Orion corrected.

Broadwing scoffed.

“It’s dawned on me that with father gone, it would make me Prince of Rhinefrost,” Broadwing remarked, “And as my first act as your lord, I command you to join us. Have a drink.”

Orion grinned, and shook his head.

“Under penalty of death?”

“As you like it,” Broadwing laughed.

Orion rose from the ground, and shook himself off of the snow.

“Prince Broadwing. Not sure it rolls off the tongue,” Orion said.

“It ought to, or else I’ll be cutting tongues out,” Broadwing laughed again, reaching for Orion by his shoulder.

Orion’s smile faded.

“My place is not among you,” Orion said, glancing at Boreas’ casket, “It never has been.”

“You are my brother. You'll always have a place alongside me.”

Orion sighed.

“Let’s go on, then. His highness must be bloody frozen,” Orion smiled.

Broadwing laughed, and the two of them entered back into the hall.

Meanwhile Shining Armor had been pretending to find Bellflower’s tales of town gossip to be as riveting as she had hoped, until at last Primrose ushered her daughter to fetch them all some drinks.

“I should ask forgiveness for Cadance’s absence, by the way,” Shining said, “She fell ill with a terrible cold.”

“...Strange. I’d heard reports she had traveled south to the capital.”

Shining laughed briefly, before realizing she was serious.

“By whose account?”

“Every scribe from Hammerhold to Icehearth. The reports are the same. You’d have missed them while on the road, I suppose.”

Shining Armor glanced at the ground. He had warned her time and time again, not to flee south. He had thought he had convinced her, now he realized she was only waiting for the optimal moment to betray his words of caution.

“You must excuse me,” Shining said, disturbed. He made for the door, now dreading whatever madness Cadance had stumbled into.

Scents of wet ink wafted through the air of Cadance’s quarters, where the princess sat idly by candlelight and a plate of uneaten fruit. The parchment before her was written hastily, as though she feared the words would sooner spring off the script.

Cadance dwelled on the words, explaining in grave detail the extent of Twilight’s crimes, and an address to the inevitable madness that would follow.

She had struggled to maintain her belief that there was some intrinsic good inside the heart of every pony. Twilight lived two lives, she had reasoned: that of a bloodthirsty deceiver and a graceful monarch, both variations of the same twisted course of duty that she had become so devoted to. But to what end could duty remain just, with such abuses of power, with such bloody acts of cruelty?

But the worst was already over. Honor would prevail, she told herself. It had to, in the end.

A knock came on the door, right as she had finished adding her signature to the end of the letter. She set the parchment aside and glanced up to the door.

“Come in,” she said, loud enough for the visitor to hear.

In came Featherglass, swaying with each step. The candle flames bent in the night breeze, and the chirping of crickets kept them company.

“Your highness,” he said, exaggerating a bow. He dared not ask why he was summoned at such a late hour.

Cadance glared at him, as if disgusted with herself for requiring him to be there. She sat back in her chair, exhausted.

“The princess is behind the murders,” she said, flatly.

Featherglass’ gaze shifted.

“Thorax, Ember, all of them. She butchered them all,” Cadance elaborated, struggling to admit it even to herself.

Featherglass recoiled, a blank alarm sounding off in his eyes.

“So, if Equestria was to know…” he said, shakily.

“The kingdoms will demand her deposition. If not also her execution.”

Featherglass narrowed his eyes.

“So it would seem,” Featherglass said, aggressively trotting past Cadance’s desk towards the balcony, overlooking the moonlit city below, “Unless…”

“There is no unless. She’s betrayed us all. Equestria is owed the truth.”

“And Twilight cannot be unseated unless you bring it about. You would be wise to keep this to yourself.”

Cadance glared at him.

“Have you a shred of honor?”

“You said war was inevitable. So, the choice becomes would you rather be fighting alongside Twilight, or against her? Twilight is no fool. She will have foreseen your turn of heart. She will dispel you as a would-be-usurper. If you value your life, you will make peace with Twilight, put aside your enmities and declare her innocent. The dragons will insist otherwise, and together you and Twilight can crush whatever haphazard rebellion may arise, as a unified front. Once the dragons are taken care of, perhaps then you can reveal Twilight's little secret."

“What you suggest is treason.”

“Only if we lose,” Featherglass said.

“No. I will not do it,” Cadance said, “There is no other choice.”

“And who should take the throne after Twilight’s head is on a spike? You?”

“If I must,” Cadance replied.

"So why summon me here? Evidently not for my wisdom."

Cadance opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated.

Featherglass began to grin.

“Look at you,” he said, sitting down once again, “You know what you summoned me here for. An accusation like yours…the consequences would ensure blood be spilt. But to ask such a thing, it’s not honorable, so the words are lost on you. ”

Featherglass’ grin intensified.

“You have the position, the pulpit, and the passion to defy her. But you don’t have the support. That’s why you came to me, is it not? You need soldiers. Or, rather, the pony who pays them.”

Cadance glanced at the floor, slightly ashamed to require such barbarous means to exact her plan.

“The princess would have my head should you fail,” Featherglass said.

“Equestria will not survive the war that is brewing. It can be avoided, if we strike first,” Cadance said, “This is our only chance to stop what’s coming.”

Featherglass hesitated. His eyes flickered up and down, up and down, before resting comfortably on Cadance.

“Very well, Princess.”

“It should be over quickly,” Cadance said, “Tomorrow night, while she is sleeping. She should be taken into custody.”

Featherglass nodded.

“If she’s taken by surprise, her magic may be suppressed. You should be able to counter her long enough. I can have the platoons guarding every exit.”

“The fate of Equestria lies with us,” Cadance said, narrowing her eyes, “I need to trust you to uphold your end of the bargain.”

“In a day’s time, you’ll have a hundred swords at your command,” Featherglass said.

Cadance nodded, relieved that she was not the only pony in Canterlot committed to the truth.

She glanced at the ground, and noticed her hoof was trembling slightly.

She had no choice but to act, she reminded herself. Silence meant Equestria’s doom.

Still she was frightened almost out of her wits.

In a day’s time.

Hope remained by a thread. But there was a tempest in her, restless, for revenge, for justice, for the thrill of the fight.

Twilight Sparkle’s reign was soon to be cut short.

By some curious chance in the brief quiet of the day, when the ponies of Ponyville had retired to their homes to warm themselves by their fires and drink from their cider stocks, when there was less noise and more green to the hills, Juno had come across that remarkable answer to her question. While the sun was nearly set over Folly Lick Field, and the daybreak rush had slowed down its hurry, she could precisely make out a strange sensation ruminating within her; as if to trudge on beyond those bygone limits gave her a new comfort.

It was better to brave the unknown then remain bound to a familiar misery.

Her old life was forfeit, as far as Juno could tell. She would not stay idle while the world moved on from its grief. She did not care if it made her a fool. In her mind, there was no other choice.

Her father’s voice returned to her, beckoning her to remain put, to set aside her anger and hatred and stay where safety might protect her. But she knew what he would have done had he taken her place instead. Together they would have justice. She would conquer the burning despair that had taken hold her her heart, one way or another.

I can’t do this.

But she kept on moving, while her legs trembled with the weight of her duffel bag.

Over the hill, Juno took one last look back at Ponyville. She would return only when she had found peace, she swore it to herself. Sunset Shimmer would see justice.

And so she departed, uncertain where her next steps would lead her. But she was certain of one thing, at least.

Sunset Shimmer would get what was coming for her.

Bells shook the white walls of Canterlot, where crows flew overhead in mindless rings.

Six guards accompanied the princess, along with a sleep-deprived Rarity, and together they meant to arrive back in the royal apartment by midday.

Cadance had only been able to bring twenty of her crystal guards on the journey south; few were willing to defy the command of Shining Armor, even if he had been drunk when he gave it.

Among the guards was the haughty Lieutenant Luminare, a warrior of countless battles, with his sleek navy mane and shimmering pale blue coat.

Cadance carried an envelope with her, to be copied and sent throughout the realm, the instrument of her treachery. She sighed with tired eyes, marching along, before the cries of a messenger seized her attention.

“Princess! Princess!” came the messenger, a skinny young squire with bulging blue eyes.

The crystal guards had each begun to draw their swords, hastily.

“It’s alright,” Cadance said.

The guards cautiously stepped out of the way to allow the messenger through.

“Princess, her grace has requested you to the throne room.”

Cadance hesitated, and glanced at the ground.

“...Very well,” Cadance said.

She turned to Rarity.

“Rarity, see that this letter reaches every pair of eyes in Equestria. I fear we have run out of time,” Cadance said.

Rarity gulped.

“Are you certain?” Rarity stammered.

“Rarity.”

Rarity nervously accepted the task, receiving the folded envelope in a trembling hoof.

She broke off from the others, while Cadance and her guards begrudgingly proceeded after the messenger.

“We should return to the apartments, highness,” Luminare muttered, “She’ll be laying a trap for you,” he countered.

“I’ve committed no crime,” Cadance said, “Twilight won’t strike first unless she’s certain of my intentions. Featherglass promised a hundred swords to our cause. The city will come to our aid as well, when they learn the truth.”

Luminare held onto his suspicions, however, and followed along the princess regardless.

They first came through the courtyard, where, among a loose crowd of Canterlot aristocrats, Featherglass was waiting.

“As ensured, the guard is yours,” Featherglass said.

Lieutenant Styles stood a few steps behind him, approaching with an uneasy step.

“Your grace,” Styles said, bowing his head, “It’s long past time justice is dealt.”

“We’re glad to have you,” Cadance said, nodding her head, “What’s this all about?”

“Nopony’s sure. But it seems every lord and lady in the city has been summoned,” Featherglass explained.

Cadance’s eyes shifted towards the doors ahead to the inner keep. She glanced back at Featherglass, wondering what she could possibly have in store.

The great stone doors to the throne opened, and Cadance bore witness to the host of guards waiting in lines on either side, in compact rows of gleaming mail. Among them was the grim Grey Wick, the persnickety Prickly Pear, Valance, and Venger, who Cadance recognized as some of Twilight’s most esteemed commanders.

The room was packed with every knight and noble of note that Canterlot had to offer; there was Fancy Pants, Jet Stream and Upper Crust, and countless others dressed in colorful suits and expensive jewelry. Cadance persisted towards the front of the crowd, aided by the efforts of Luminare and her guards. She spotted Ocean Flow and her daughter Silver Stream, the latter of whom was instantly drawn to Cadance, and, more particularly, Styles in her company.

“Princess Cadance,” Silver Stream said, extending a claw.

Cadance obliged the hippogriff princess, warmly.

“You must be Silver Stream,” Cadance smiled, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Wedge Ward had followed after Silver, wary of letting her out of his sight.

“Lieutenant,” Silver said, beaming up at Styles, who hardly acknowledged her.

Wedge ushered Silver Stream to rejoin her mother, while staring daggers at Styles, who wore a sickly smirk.

“You should keep a tighter leash on that one, Captain,” Styles said.

Wedge turned his back to the lieutenant, shuffling through the crowd to rejoin Silver Stream and Ocean Flow.

Cadance recognized the changeling ambassador, Elytra, and the yak ambassador, Lazlo. She found Luminare beside her.

They shared a glance of uncertainty, which was quickly interrupted by the arrival of Twilight Sparkle herself, through the rear entrance.

She was welcomed to a feast of gracious applause, as she gracefully made her way to the throne. Twilight’s eyes met her for a brief moment, and she was made alert, close to buckling beneath the weight of it all.

The applause and cheers of the crowd began to diminish after Twilight took her seat, gazing around at her guests with a warm smile.

“My friends,” she began, “It has struck me as unsound, that while shadows and rumors have swept our beloved Equestria, we have perhaps lost sight of our own unique brand of unity. What binds us as one nation, despite our differences: our commitment to the common good. Our love for peace, harmony, and friendship. Nothing is more sacred..”

Cadance could feel herself become irritable, witnessing Twilight’s shameless performance.

“It is my honor to have welcomed two of our fiercest allies to our city - Queen Regent Ocean Flow, of Seaquestria, and Princess Cadance, of the Crystal Empire.”

Applause again rang out, and Cadance forced a smile to express her gratitude. But she was more concerned with Twilight than the crowd.

“Equestria owes them a great debt. As it does with our friends in the Changeling Kingdom, and Yakyakistan,” Twilight continued, glancing at Lazlo and Elytra. The applause continued, louder again, and endured until Twilight opened her mouth to speak once more.

“There is strength in unity. When one of us should stagger, the others will help them up. That is our way. That will always be our way. In these times of uncertainty, we mean to show the world what we stand for. To embrace each other, and welcome all to join us in our mission to defend the pillars of duty and peace. So, I have gathered us here today, to celebrate our unity. To tell the world that Equestria still stands as one.”

The crowd murmured in agreement, eager to follow along with Twilight’s plea.

“To our four most esteemed guests, I ask you to recite your oaths. To promise your loyalty to protecting peace in Equestria, and to the crown, to one unified front.”

Lazlo was the first to march up to the front, kneeling before Twilight with little hesitation.

Elytra was more hesitant, though after Ocean Flow eventually gave in and joined Lazlo in the center of the room before the throne steps, she came around as well.

And so the three of them waited there, while Cadance remained as she was.

The crowd had formed a path between Cadance and the throne, while Luminare, Styles, Featherglass, and the crystal guards remained behind her.

All eyes of the crowd were locked onto her, and though the arguments in her head were raging, she could not bring herself to budge,

Twilight’s smile had long slipped away.

“Sister,” Twilight beckoned, softly.

Please, her eyes begged, Please.

Cadance glanced at Ocean Flow and the others, and then around at the crowd, and finally back to Twilight.

“....My loyalty is and always has been to Equestria,” Cadance said, “I cannot say the same for you, your grace.”

The crowd had begun to stir, confused.

Wedge glanced at Featherglass, and then at Twilight.

But Twilight could spare no response, not while her lips were stuck shut and a fire had begun to burn behind a frozen glare. She shook her head, subtly.

Stop, she wanted to cry out.

Cadance had turned her attention to the crowd, glancing around, forcing herself to speak.

“Equestria has been ravaged by paranoia, grief, and despair. Trust has never been harder to come by…Her grace speaks to unity, and good will, but she has deceived you all,” Cadance said, glaring back at Twilight, “Empress Ember, King Thorax, Queen Novo, Paramount, Filibuster, Bronze Beam…they all lie dead in the ground by your hoof.”

An uproar broke out, ponies in the crowd soon jeering and arguing among each other, unsure what to believe.

“You play with ponies’ lives like it’s all a game. All to peddle a false peace, that will collapse regardless,” Cadance said, practically seething, “No more.”

“You condemn yourself,” Twilight said, her voice twisted and choked. She glanced at Wedge Ward below, who was stunned for a moment, before turning to face Cadance.

He stepped out from beside Silver Stream, approaching Cadance warily.

Luminare and two of the crystal guards had already sprang in front of Cadance, reaching for the hilts of their swords.

A few mares had begun to scream in fright, while the ponies of the crowd had all begun taking steps backward, for fear of collateral damage. Silver Stream turned to her mother, horrified.

“Do not harm him,” Cadance commanded, raising her voice.

Luminare froze, as did the guards.

Wedge had stopped his approach, struggling to think straight.

“Lieutenant,” Cadance said, turning her head to Styles, “Take Princess Twilight into custody. Escort her to her quarters and keep her there, under guard.”

Styles kept his hoof resting on his sword belt, glaring at Twilight up on her throne.

“I do not want bloodshed,” Cadance said, softening her voice.

It’s over, she meant to say.

“Tell them to put away their swords. Nopony needs to die,” Cadance continued.

Twilight’s eyes flickered in the stained glass light.

The first shriek of sword through flesh took all in the room by surprise; it took only seconds before ponies were trampling over each other, dashing for the far corners of the room, if not the exit.

A panic soon broke out as ponies rushed for the doors, some suffering the stampede by means of crushed heads and broken bones.

Cadance spun around to discover Luminare, lying in a bloody puddle; Styles’ sword had left its mark across the stallion’s neck, cut almost to the bone.

The other four crystal guards were meeting similar fates, stabbed and torn apart by spear or incandescent unicorn magic, courtesy of the surrounding royal guards. Cadance spun back around just in time to be sprayed by the slippery innards of the last guard, crystalline fragments of blood and tissue coating her mane and face.

Cadance’s mouth hung open in shock, and she struggled to open her eyes. Her horn ignited, though she had no time to cast a spell before Styles had his sword pressed against her neck.

Styles too was soaked in ponies’ blood, as he held her in place with his blade at her throat. She grunted, helplessly caught while hoof-deep in blood.

“Mother, do something!” Silver Stream whispered to Ocean Flow. But she was paralyzed along with a few others of the now-scattered crowd, all along the edges of the throne room, bathed in multicolor light.

Silver Stream tore off from the crowd to help Cadance, but was quickly thwarted by Wedge, who had reluctantly grabbed a hold of her.

“Let me go!” she screamed.

Wedge held her down beside her mother, preventing her from running towards certain death.

Cadance’s eyes wavered as they left the gruesome sight of her slain guards, and up to Twilight perched on her throne. She had been joined by Featherglass, a sly smirk shifting over his face.

Twilight glanced towards the door, and Styles needed little more direction.

She could not bear to look on, while more royal guards descended upon Cadance.

“Twilight!” was all Cadance could scream, as she was pulled away, buckling in rage.

Twilight lowered her head, and collapsed back to the throne.

And the room fell silent once again.

“This can’t be happening.”

Dried blood covered the stairwell to Mandola’s basement, which reeked of red rot and mold.

“We’re goners,” said Lightning, collapsing onto the old torn couch in the back corner. Suri and Wallflower trailed behind her, their heads hung low.

“All of them? All dead?” Bon Bon asked.

“If they got Razor Blade, it won’t take them long to find us,” Suri said.

“What are you saying? That we need to leave? We’ve got nowhere to go,” Bon Bon said.

“I’m not saying anything. Just letting everypony know that we’re absolutely screwed,” Suri said.

“You’re right,” Wallflower said, “But we’re not just going to sit here and wait to be caught. If we’re running into a dead end, we could at least try to help ponies before we…”

Wallflower was interrupted when an eruptive crash had taken them all by surprise, tumbling down the basement stairs.

Kickstart sprang to his hooves, as did Bon Bon, who had already reached one of her projectile devices, locked and loaded.

Lightning stood in front of Suri, Scootaloo, and Wallflower, snarling like a rabid beast.

Suri recognized the pony by the time he had collapsed off the last step, groaning in agony.

Mandola must have broken a rib during the fall, by the sound of his wailing cries.

Hoofsteps on the stairwell again seized their attention.

Sweat slipped down Lightning’s cheek, as her eyes trembled up towards the new figure descending down the stairs.

She was a unicorn, with bright cyan eyes, an amaranth-golden mane, and an amber coat.

Wallflower’s mouth soon hung agape.

Sunset Shimmer rounded off the last step, carrying a small duffel bag in an aura of magic.

“Take it easy,” Sunset said, noticing the others’ defensive posture.

Lightning was beaming, exhilarated, while the others hesitantly loosened up.

“Like I tried to tell your friend here,” Sunset said, glancing at Mandola, “I’m with you. Yeah?” Sunset said, glancing at the other ponies of the basement who still had their weapons raised.

The basement dwellers eased up after a wave from Suri.

Wallflower noticed Suri’s smirk.

“You called her?” Wallflower said.

Suri spared her a dismissive glance.

“We need her,” Suri said, “It’s the only way we’re getting out of this alive.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Sunset grinned, waltzing up towards the others, “This is some mess we’re in. We’ve got a tyrant princess, somepony’s on our trail, and we’re the most wanted ponies in Equestria.”

Sunset glared at Wallflower.

“But don’t you worry,” she said.

Sunset had rejoined the others to a series of embraces and laughter, while Wallflower remained where she was, dreading what rabbit hole they had disappeared down.

“We’re getting some payback.”

Moonlight burrowed beneath the canopy through slits in the leaves, glancing at the trembling creek current and its pebble beaches. There the sound of foam and bubbles were bellowing out into the night, rushing, roaring in a thin voice.

And the voice was heard, by the twitching ear of a unicorn, whose coat was matted with blood, who had been lying motionless by the stream for what felt like weeks. Every now and then she could muster the strength to reach for a drink, before collapsing again in exhaustion.

Her wounds were not yet healed.

Starlight Glimmer was struggling to feel any of the pain, while her mind ran circles on an endless track, a spiral of dark confusion.

‘Twilight,’ she recalled, ‘Twilight.’

Hers was the last face she had seen before the darkness took her, and the sun seemed to have since vanished over the mountains.

The woods were dense but devoid of life, bearing a grey waste of frozen dirt.

She could make out her breath in the cold, whenever she could manage opening her eyes.

She had to keep fighting, she reminded herself. Fighting for what?

There was a tempest in her, she thought. Whether it was justice, or revenge, or the thrill of the fight, her heart was restless.

Still she was too weak and battered in bruises to do much other than lie in defeat.

Or so she thought, until a new strange figure seemed to appear across the riverbed, a pair of yellow eyes peering down at her. He was nothing close to a pony, but perhaps some figment of her imagination. No, she told herself, she recognized that gaunty chuckle, that lion’s paw, that lizard’s tail, that griffon’s claw.

She managed to lift her head up to greet him, while he was gleefully hovering there in the air.

“My, my, what have we here?”

Author's Note

Thanks for reading! Feedback always welcomed!

Meant to have this done sooner! Started my first semester of college this fall and time sorta slipped away from me :derpyderp1: Looking back on the first story I feel like I wasn't planning things out as much as I should've, and I think it shows in the end with how a lot of payoffs aren't set up too well, and a lot of character arcs feel unsatisfactory/dry. Hoping this time around to improve on those mistakes and expand on the things that worked. I'm not sure if the high wordcount is an issue or not, always tough slimming things down (this used to be 20K!) But anyways thanks again for reading!! Means a lot