Marks of the Moon

Chapters

1 - Moonatik
2 - Carte Blanche
3 - Sol Nightshade
4 - Pocarona
5 - Grim Fate
6 - Selenite, Part I
7 - Selenite, Part II
8 - Epilogue
9 - The Obscenely Self-Indulgent Bonus Epilogue

1 - Moonatik

16:31 - 6/04/1008 - Lunar Castle, Everfree Forest

“Excuse me, Miss?” Sweetie Belle called out.

The red pegasus Sweetie Belle was talking to didn’t react, they continued to trot down the castle hallway carrying a basket of clean bedding on their back.

“Miss?” she asked again, jumping in front of the pegasus and waving.

“Hm?” the pegasus looked down at Sweetie Belle, coming to a sudden stop and nearly dropping the basket. “Oh, you- you meant me?” he said in a low, masculine, Griffish accent whilst hastily adjusting their glasses. Sweetie Belle jumped upon hearing his voice.

“You silly!” Scootaloo fleered whilst pointing at the pegasus. “He’s a stallion!”

“How was she supposed ta know?” Apple Bloom interjected, hopping up to Scootaloo. “He’s short enough to be a mare, got his mane up in a bun, wearin’ a mare’s night-maid uniform, got a pretty face and-” Apple Bloom looked closer at the pegasus, “hey, s’that eyeshadow?”

“Ooh ooh! Hey, guy, say ‘bottle of water’!” Scootaloo giggled.

“Uh,” the pegasus mumbled as his face turned to a bright pink blush, “it’s fine. I’m- flattered,” he smiled, his eyebrows pulling together. Then his eyes shot wide open. “Hey, aren’t you those kids who broke into here a few years ago and tried to overthrow the Empress? Who let you in?” he asked aggressively, his eyes narrowing.

The Cutie Mark Crusaders went silent and still. Mouths tightened shut and eyes wide as dish plates, they frantically exchanged glances at one another, until Sweetie Belle broke the tension by raising a hoof. “We’re here for Rarity, I’m her sister.”

“Ohh, I see, I see. Rarity’s shift doesn’t finish for another…” he checked his watch, “uhh, half an hour, thereabouts. I could take you somewhere to wait. If you want.”

The fillies looked at each other, exchanging shrugs and other expressions of indifference. “Sure, beats standing around a hallway doing nothing,” Scootaloo said.

“Sweet,” the pegasus said. “Follow me. Uh, Moonatik, by the way,” he added, pointing to himself.

“Moonatik?” Apple Bloom said with an eyebrow raised. “Like, moon fanatic? That your name?”

“Maybe more like Luna-tic!” Sweetie Belle said, with everyone staring at her. “Well I thought it was funny,” she grumbled.

Moonatik returned an indistinct mumble whilst fidgeting with his wings. He gestured for the three fillies to follow him as he set off down the hallway, each of them doing as suggested.

Before tonight, the Crusaders never had the opportunity for a calm, quiet walk through the halls of the Lunar Castle. Long, wide, densely decorated hallways with stone-brick walls painted varying hues of blue and cyan, lit by turquoise torchlight and the moon itself. The carpet beneath their feet reduced the noise of their hoofsteps to soft taps, and a subtle refreshing scent hung in the air.

Each of the three fillies had something to grab their attention. Sweetie Belle’s eyes were drawn to the masterfully intricate tapestries and to the endless rows of stained glass windows, presenting an array of vibrant hues of cyan, blue, and purple, their beauty amplified by the dazzling moonlight filtering through the glass. Scootaloo marvelled at the frequent sight of an epic painting or statue depicting a recent or historical battlefield triumph, featuring brave and dashing soldiers fighting against incredible odds inspired by the leadership of their majestic Empress. Apple Bloom, however, had her focus on the stallion ahead of them.

Outpacing the rest of her friends, Apple Bloom trotted up aside Moonatik. “What’s your cutie mark mean?” she asked.

“Uh?” Moonatik glanced down at Apple Bloom, then looked to his flank. His midnight-purple tailcoat - part of his uniform - went over the top of his flank leaving his cutie mark on full display. It presented a purple lightbulb, with rays of yellow, green, and blue light emanating from it. “This, uhh, I think it means creativity. Like… I’m creative, and stuff. It’s kind of abstract, but that’s probably the point.”

“How’d you get it?”

Moonatik’s eyes wandered around the hallway. “I dunno, I’ve always been drawing and writing stuff, really cuz it’s just fun, you know? Guess one night the cutie mark gods decided ‘yeah, give this guy a creativity cutie mark’, I don’t really remember a lot about it,” he explained, half speaking and half murmuring. “It was nice, just, getting this confirmation of what I’m meant to be. Yeah, though like, I’m not really read up on cutie mark- uh, -ology? I don’t know the actual word, but you know what I mean…”

Apple Bloom put a sincere and earnest effort into listening n to Moonatik as he rambled on, but struggled as his speech devolved into barely-audible incoherent mumbles. She made an effort to appear engaged by nodding along and making eye contact where she could, which was difficult as Moonatik’s eyes wandered everywhere except at the filly herself. “Sounds nice!” she said, throwing Moonatik a kind grin.

“Hmrh,” Moonatik shrugged, “I dunno, there’s probably ponies here with way more interesting cutie mark stories than mine.”

Shortly after, Moonatik stopped in front of a large door, built of dark-blue wooden planks and styled after those found in old medieval castles. He pushed it open to usher the fillies through. “In here. I’ll let Rarity know where you are,” Moonatik said, then made his way off.

The fillies looked at each other, standing quietly in front of the open door for a moment. “He seemed nice,” Apple Bloom said.

“Kinda looked like your brother with wings and glasses,” Scootaloo observed, “though I can’t see Big Mac wearing makeup and mares’ clothes.”

Apple Bloom smirked. If only Scootaloo knew.

Stepping through the door and onto the soft clean carpet, the fillies gasped in amazement at the lavish waiting room before them. An elaborate chandelier dangled from the ceiling, filling the room with a warm, calming light. A circle of wide plush sofas surrounded a large wooden table at the centre of the room, and the walls were lined with detailed tapestries and neatly filled bookshelves. Only one other pony was in the room lying on a sofa on the far side of the room.

Quickly, Scootaloo ran up to a sofa, jumping up and down on it before she settled down. “Bouncy!” she observed.

The other two fillies hopped onto the sofa. To them, it was enormous, big enough for one to splay out their limbs and still have room to wiggle around. They practically sank into the soft, luxurious cushions, and consequently, they settled in almost instantly. “I reckon I could sleep on this thing!” Apple Bloom said, kicking her hindlegs up and throwing her forehooves under her head.

They may have been content just to sit and wait for Rarity to finish her shift, and a full minute passed with them simply enjoying the comfort of their new seating arrangements. Until their ears flicked upwards, triggered by a noise that any foal would recognise, that of the sound of a hoof rustling through a bag of candy.

Each of them had paid little mind to the other pony in the room, up until then. On a sofa across from them laid a seafoam-green bat pony with a silky smooth cyan mane flowing down their athletic body and onto the sofa. In one hoof they held a pencil which they were using to sketch something into a notebook, and the other a lollipop they had just put into their mouth. Peculiarities such as his snazzy black bowtie, lightly coloured ‘sock’ coat markings, long dark eyelashes, and glistening crimson eyeshadow stood out to the fillies, but as the trio exchanged glances they each understood their common desire, candy.

“Should we ask?” Sweetie asked.

Apple Bloom shrugged. “No harm in that.”

Sweetie smiled and turned towards the thestral. “Excuse me! Miss!” she shouted whilst waving, catching their attention.

“Ugh, not again,” Scootaloo groaned, putting a hoof to her cringing face.

Sweetie snapped around. “What, you don’t honestly think that’s a stallion, do you?”

“I wouldn’t just assume it!” said Scootaloo. “Ponies have assumed I was a colt before, and it’s not nice!”

“Oh come on, just look at her!” Sweetie turned back to the pony, only to jump when she realised the pony had silently gotten up and was standing over the trio. With a lollipop stick poking out of their smug, smiling lips, they looked down at the three fillies.

“Something you wanted to ask?” they said, speaking in an androgynous voice that only added to the confusion.

For a good few seconds, the three fillies said nothing. “Are you a mare or a stallion?” Apple Bloom tentatively asked.

Putting a hoof up to their mouth, the pony giggled. “I love it when ponies can’t tell, but I am indeed a stallion. In fact, I am the ideal of equine masculinity. You may not like it, but this,” he waved a hoof at himself whilst fluttering his wings, “is what peak male performance looks like.”

“Snrk,” Scootaloo snickered, half at the stallion and half at Sweetie Belle. “I really thought you’d be used to seeing ponies like this at Rarity’s store,” she said, giving Sweetie a nudge.

“Seriously?” Sweetie groaned.

“Rarity?” the stallion said, stroking his chin. “Oh yes, the seamstress from Ponyville,” he continued, imitating Rarity’s cultured voice flawlessly. “I am familiar with her both as a domestic and as a dressmaker. I have to say, her talents are utterly wasted doing the menial labour she does here, but ever since that other chap opened a boutique on the other side of town… Well, a pony has to make ends meet somehow-”

“Who in the hay are ya, anyway?” said Apple Bloom as she cocked an eyebrow, cutting the stallion off. “Y’seem to-

“Blanche,” he said, “Carte Blanche,” his voice carrying an aura of effortless charm and sophistication. “Here on behalf of Enjoyable, Exciting, Enrapturing Entertainment Enterprises. Now, was there something you wanted?”

“We were just gonna ask for a lollipo-” Apple Bloom froze. Her eyes had shifted down to Carte’s flank, and she quickly realised the symbol it adorned.

“Something the matter?” Carte asked with a tilt of his head.

“Y-y-your cutie mark,” Apple Bloom shuddered, “it’s-”

“A kitchen knife, wrapped in barbed wire,” Carte said nonchalantly. “It means precision, but I understand if the symbolism is a little, hmm, unclear.”

Scootaloo jumped off the sofa and ran up behind Carte, inspecting his cutie mark. “How the heck did you get a cutie mark like that?” she asked.

Suddenly, Carte’s smug expression fell from his face. His mouth clenched shut, his wings tensed up, and he took a step away from the fillies. He cleared his throat, “I’m not sure if my cutie mark story is exactly appropriate for an audience of fillies, even if I was around your age at the time. How old are you?”

“We’re all thirteen”, said Sweetie Belle.

“Huh, so exactly the same age,” Carte said, yet he glanced off to the side, pouting his lips. “I’m- not sure though. It isn’t exactly for the faint of heart-”

“Ooh, I definitely wanna hear it now!” Scootaloo yelled, her wings flapping excitedly, a broad smile on her lips.

“Me too!” Sweetie Belle added.

“…ah dangit, me three!” Apple Bloom confirmed.

“Well in that case,” Carte chuckled, throwing himself onto a clear space on the sofa, “allow me to set the scene. I twas but a colt, little more than a year after the return of our Empress. My parents had shipped me off to a prestigious boarding school the year prior…”

2 - Carte Blanche

Author's Note

Content warnings for this chapter: Violence, blood, children getting hurt, profanity.

2 - Carte Blanche

01:09 - 25/10/1001 - Gibbous Preparatory Academy, Stableside

Rain pattered down on the window of the empty classroom. That, and the scratch of a pencil on paper, was all that reached my ears. I always found myself coming here during lunch recess as I knew it was quiet and unoccupied at that time. A year earlier, a part of me thought a new school would mean new chances to make friends, but it didn’t take me long to retreat back into solitude. The most I’d do with the other students was play hoofball, but nothing more. I sure wouldn’t stay and chat afterwards.

I was sketching a pony I knew, a pegasus colt specifically. His name was Dream Boat, and my goodness was that ever an appropriate name. I knew him from my algebra and Equestrian classes, and even though I tried not to show it, I’d light up with delight every time he volunteered to read in front of the class. He had a wonderful voice and a manner of speaking where every word was delivered clearly and pronounced precisely. I could’ve listened to him speak for hours, yet I had only tried to speak with him outside of class once. But before I could say anything substantive, I quietly stepped away from the conversation out of fear of devolving into a blubbering mess.

To be honest, it was an excellent drawing, seeing it in front of me slapped a smile on my face. I’d drawn him blowing a kiss, and while it wasn't easy getting his contagious smile or his luxurious curled mane right, the finished product was gorgeous. I’d noticed that I was improving at drawing cleaner lines, too. I thought if I were ever to talk to him for real I’d offer to draw a picture of him, so I considered this practice for whenever that night came. I’d want it to be perfect.

I licked my lips. They felt dry, as did my mouth as a whole. Listening to the constant downpour of rain outside didn't help. I glanced around the table only to confirm what I already knew, nothing to drink, and there were no water fountains in this part of the school. Great. I still had time before my next lesson started, it’d be no trouble to stop by the nearest fountain for some water. I hopped to my hooves, stashed my notebook under my wing, and made my way to the exit. And as soon as I stepped outside, my shirt, mane, and coat were soaked.

Stupid dress code. No hoodies, no hooded jackets, no nothing. Not even on a night like tonight. My shirt pocket was too small to carry anything more than a pencil and an eraser, and the pockets on my pants weren’t big enough to hold the notebook either. The most I could do is keep it under my wing and hope for the best. If only I hadn’t left my bag and my blazer in my locker, but by then I’d learned that the less I carried the better. Knowing my luck it would’ve ended up in the hooves of-

“Cartie boy!”

Them.

And all of a sudden my night went from ‘meh’ to ‘awful’.

Two ponies approached me, I kept my eyes away but my ears involuntarily flickered towards them. One was a tall earth pony named Root Stalk, and the other was a unicorn around my height named Frosted Glass. For the last year leading up to then, they were my tormentors.

Frost came up on my right. “You look grumpy, Cartie boy, something the matter?” he teased. I didn't look up, but I was all too familiar with his appearance. Frost's coat was a garish blonde, his short black mane all gelled up. He almost always wore his uniform spotless and tidy, which combined with his pompous smirk made him look like a stereotypically slimy politician with the added stupidity of a teenager. "Hey femboy!" he waved a hoof in front of my face. I didn't react.

Root came up on my left. “Aww, does fangs not wanna talk to us?” he nudged me, throwing me slightly off balance, though I quickly recovered and kept my pace. Root’s coat was reddish-orange, like rotten fruit, but more generally he looked like the dictionary definition of a meathead owing to his ungainly build and stubby snout.

Eyes close to the ground and moving quickly, I tried to ignore them. At the very least I wasn't going to show them that they were getting to me. Both of them were from families of the local business elite, they wouldn’t have been able to afford to get into the school otherwise. Under Celestia’s rule, their families did amazingly well, in no small part due to underpaying and overworking their thestral workers. But since Nightmare Moon’s return and her government’s campaigns for swift justice, much of that exploited wealth was finding its way back into thestral pockets.

“We know your big freakish bat ears can hear us, so drop the stoic tough guy act, will you?” Root flicked one of my ears. I flinched, barely, but kept my mouth closed. “Doesn’t suit you, femboy.”

Always with the low blows. My family - thestral businessponies and proud Lunarists - had always been successful, but the Lunar government’s initiatives aimed at helping thestral businesses and communities had certainly done us good. Consequently, morons like these two went straight to being racist brats because they couldn’t comprehend not being at the top of the social pecking order any more. Not that I expected tact from them, but oh well. I quickly picked up my pace, keeping my head down and pretending not to notice.

“Alright, enough small talk,” Root stepped in front of me, forcing me to a stop. “Give us the money, fangs,” he demanded.

My eyes were locked to the ground, my mouth was shut tight. For a few seconds, I said nothing as they stared expectantly at me. Eventually, I scrounged up the courage to say something. “I don’t have any money on me," I groaned, and then I turned away and set off.

“So?” Root blocked my path again. “Go get some.”

I shuddered, my wings clenching closer to my body. I felt that I could get them off my back if I brushed them aside and showed I didn’t care for their minotaur crap. I raise my head and try staring Root in the eyes whilst showing my fangs. “I’m not letting you steal from me again,” I meekly blurted out.

“Ooo!” Frost mocked whilst making annoying gestures with his hooves. “Reaal scary, leatherwings.”

“Come on, it’s not stealing!” Root said, taking a step closer to me to emphasise the terrifying chasm between our heights. He grabbed my tie and yanked me towards him, causing my whole body to shake. “We’re just… redistributing back what you bloodsuckers stole from us when your ‘Empress’ took over,” he sneered.

“Just leave me alone,” is what I would have said, if I didn’t first feel something falling from under my wing.

I heard the rustling of paper and the shimmer of magic, followed by Frost’s sickening laugh. My heart sank. “Ooh, what’s this?” he said.

Oh no.

“Wait,” Frost snickered. I saw him holding my notebook in his magic, flipping through the pages. He stopped on the most recent page, his jaw fell with a gasp and his eyebrows shot up. “Is that Dream Boat?” he held my notebook up, for me to watch in paralyzed terror and for Root to mock in heartless glee.

“Sun above, no way!” Root turned towards Frost. “Let me see!”

“Stop it!” I begged whilst grasping for my notebook, but Root effortlessly held me back by holding out a hoof and pressing it to my chest. “Give it back!” I whined, throwing my legs and wings around desperately trying to push against his strength. It was all in vain.

“Sweet Celestia, you have a creepy crush on Dream Boat!” Frost dangled the notebook in front of my face. “I knew you were a perv, but this is something else!”

“Hey,” Root laughed, “what’s Dream gonna think of this when we show him?”

“No!” I wailed, still fruitlessly flailing my legs at my notebook.

My whole body froze when I heard the long, protracted noise of paper being ripped. Frost had torn the drawing out of my notebook.

“I bet he’ll love this,” Frost fluttered the page in my face. “I think he’s just over by the cafeteria.”

“Give it back!” I cried out.

Frost narrowed his eyes, giving me a cold, vicious stare as a monstrous smirk crept onto his mouth. “Sure, we don’t need the rest of your perv book. Catch!” and he flung my notebook away.

Desperately I leapt to catch my notebook, slipping and landing belly-first on the pavement, watching helplessly as my notebook splattered into a puddle of mud in the grass by the pavement. Ignoring the pain I scampered up and dashed to my notebook, grabbing it out of the mud. Or rather, what was left of it.

I panickedly flipped from page to page, a deep and profound sense of horror sinking in. It was soiled, every last page either falling apart from being soaked or stained with so much mud that its contents were unintelligible. Months of drawings, months of thoughts, months of ideas, months of my most treasured creations, ruined.

“See you around, perv!” one of them shouted, followed by a laugh. I don’t remember who said it. I was barely paying attention.

Eventually, my frantic flipping decelerated to slowly turning from one page to the next, my grimy hooves shaking as I knew exactly what awaited me on each new sheet. Dizziness and nausea overtook me and I nearly choked on my own breath. My vision blurred as tears welled in my eyes. One streaked down my cheek, and my head hung low.

Until, in a moment so quick I barely noticed it, my sorrowed gasps turned to heavy, seething huffs. I raised my head, feeling my eyebrows sink and pull together. My jaw tightened, and air huffed out of my nostrils and through my clenched teeth. I wiped the tears from my eyes, not noticing or caring that I’d smeared mud on my face. My heart pounded in my chest. Whatever I’d felt mere seconds ago had faded, replaced with a need for payback and clarity of purpose.

Buried in the mud, I spotted a rock. Small enough to carry in my hooves, big enough to break something. Not only that, one end was pointed, not sharp enough to cut anything but with enough force going into it, it’d leave a nasty hole in anything. I felt like I’d been possessed by a force of pure rage, and it had presented me with the perfect tool for my revenge.

I scooped up the rock. With my wings spread wide I whirled around on the spot and leapt upwards, taking flight. Frost and Root were still slowly walking away, my teeth were grinding at the sight of them alone. My ego shut down and my id went into overdrive as I thrust my wings down and rocketed towards them.

I shouted out “Frost!” and quickly raised the leg carrying the rock, not losing an iota of momentum.

He and Root span around, presenting me with their smug, punchable faces.

And in a lightning-quick motion I struck Frost on the top of the head.

A scream followed. To this night I couldn’t tell you whose it was. Frost crashed down head-first onto the concrete path beneath him. I heard a sharp crack. At the same moment, I landed and skidded to a stop. Spinning around, I saw blood spilling from his horn. His eyes were wide and teary, his mouth agape and stretched back. He desperately clambered at his horn, as small sparks of weak light spewed out of it.

“Holy shit!” Root staggered back, “Carte what the fu-”

I nailed Root right between the eyes, the sharp end of the rock first. He wailed, his bulky body stumbled backwards, yet I wasn’t done. I swung the rock around again, right into the side of his head, and he toppled to the ground.

It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. That was never going to be enough. I shot down to crouch on top of Root and hit him square on the snout. I needed more. I struck again. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I struck every part of his face. He put up his hooves to block, it didn’t stop me, it barely slowed me. Hit after hit. Crack after crack. His nose, his eyes, his teeth, his cheekbones, his chin, all were bloodied and dirtied in moments. Blood and grime stained my hooves. If I’d been grinding my teeth any more than I was, they'd have shattered. I may have gone on forever if something hadn’t grabbed me around the leg and pulled me up.

“Carte!” Dream Boat shouted. He’d dragged me up off the ground and he held me in front of him, his pinpoint pupils staring into my eyes. “What the hell did you just do?” he cried. His lips were quivering, his breaths panting, eyebrows pulled up. I was used to seeing him so confident. I’d never seen him like this before. I’d never seen him pay this much attention to me before. If my heart wasn’t racing before, it was doing laps then.

My gaze shifted to the bullies. Frost was frantically pushing himself away from me, looking up at the broken mass of bone and blood that used to be his horn. His whole face was soaked with blood. Root's chest heaved breaths in and out, but he wasn’t moving beyond that. His face was reduced to an unrecognizable gory mass of flesh, sanguine fluid spilling out of every orifice and freshly made gash. I snapped back to Dream.

“I- they- I,” I tried to speak. What had I done? A million thoughts raced through my mind. I’d just assaulted two ponies with a rock in front of several other ponies, they were on the floor wailing in pain and misery as tears streaked down their faces, I’d left them with injuries both physical and possibly psychological that would take Nightmare knows how long to heal. Root could have brain damage and a permanently disfigured face, Frost might never be able to cast a spell with his own horn again.

It felt amazing.

Nightmare as my witness, I know exactly what I did. “I broke their fucking faces.”

Dream released me, he staggered back. His gaze rapidly alternated between me and the two bullies on the ground. I looked away and fell to my haunches. I held up the rock, staring at it. The rest of the world faded out of focus. It was drenched in mud and blood. As it dripped off the rock and onto my hoof, it excited me. My breath got heavier. I could still hear them wailing, Frost had fully broken down into teary incoherent babbling, and it thrilled me. The smell of freshly spilt blood crept into my nostrils, and it aroused me.

I’d attracted an audience. A dozen ponies at least, students and faculty amongst it. Some gasped, most just watched, one pony puked. Frost cried insults at me, I didn’t care. Some in the audience begged me for an explanation, I paid them no mind. I hadn’t even realised a cutie mark had appeared on my flank. Only a single realisation flashed through my mind as a smile split my muzzle and a laugh escaped my lips.

I really liked to hurt other creatures.

16:39 - 6/04/1008 - Lunar Castle, Everfree Forest

“Y-y-you broke their faces?” Apple Bloom gasped, her jaw on the floor.

“Wait, you got a cutie mark in… s-sadism?” Sweetie Belle squealed, consciously pushing herself away from Carte.

“That’s hardcore!” Scootaloo beamed with stars in her eyes, then she noticed the reaction from her friends. “I- well, I think it is! They were bullies! How bad can that be?”

“Tch,” Carte scoffed, dismissively flicking a hoof. “Told you it wasn’t for the faint of heart.”

“You had to have been expelled after that, right?” Sweetie asked.

“Nope. Got away with it,” Carte smirked.

“What?” the three fillies shouted at once.

“Unless a short suspension and having to make a personal apology counts as punishment,” Carte snickered. “Heh, ‘apology’, I was grinning from ear to ear when I said it.”

“How’d they let you off so easy?” asked Sweetie Belle.

“Eh, my dad’s rich. Had a lot of influence over the school. Still does, as far as I know.” Carte said, chuckling to himself. His gaze went unfocused, he leaned back into the sofa and stared at the chandelier whilst popping a fresh lollipop into his mouth. “After that night, I was never the same. Never spent another lunch break huddled away in an empty classroom, from then on I was making friends left and right. Heh, even went on a date with Dream. He got over that initial first impression pretty quickly, believe it or not. We even ended up as each other’s first kiss! Moon above, other kids were asking me to hang around them to keep bullies away, idiots were terrified of me, as they damn well should’ve been…”

Carte droned on, partly to himself and partly to the fillies. For half a minute or so he hadn’t even noticed that Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle got up and moved to another sofa, followed shortly by an attentive Scootaloo. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle mostly opted to look at each other and only glance infrequently at Carte, hardly stopping themselves from shaking, but Scootaloo did her best to listen closely to Carte’s rambling.

Their attention was pulled away from Carte when a door swung open behind them, filling the room with a distinct creak. The fillies spun around and poked their heads over the back of the sofa, and spotted a smalt-blue unicorn had entered. Their mane, coloured part black and part aquamarine blue, had been cut short at the back but flowed luxuriously over their soft countenance.

Sweetie waved at the entrant. “Hey, Mi-”

Scootaloo forced her hoof into Sweetie’s mouth. “Mister!” Scootaloo called. “She was going to say mister.”

The pony waved, bringing attention to the long, thin scar across their leg. “Yeah?”

“Hey!” Carte swiftly sprang up smiling, “Sergeant Sol Nightshade himself, a pleasure to finally meet you! Is your lady-friend around?”

“Uhh, she’s busy right now. I was told to wait for her here,” Sol said. He cast a sceptical look at Carte. “Why’d you ask?”

Carte glanced away from Sol and towards the fillies, then he looked back at Sol whilst throwing him a cheeky grin. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Oookay…” Sol walked further into the room, keeping his eyes on the Crusaders. “Who are these kids?” he asked.

“We’re the Cutie Mark Crusaders!” they announced in sync, annunciating it with a triple hoof bump.

Sol chuckled. “Oh wow!” he said, followed by a quiet, drawn-out pause. “...What’s that?”

“We help ponies all over Ponyville discover their true talents!” Apple Bloom declared.

“But mostly,” Scootaloo chimed in, “we just go around being awesome!”

“Heh,” Sol cracked a smile. “I dig it. Equestria could always use more foals like that.”

Sweetie Belle then let out a gasp, she pointed at Sol’s flank. “Ooh, look at his cutie mark!”

All eyes were on Sol’s flank, and the imagery of a sharp machete before a silver-blue shield it displayed. Sol spun on the spot a little, giving the fillies a better look. “Oh yeah, this! Wanna know how I got it?”

“Yes!” the fillies replied.

“Alright,” Sol turned to face them. “Way back when I was in high school, I had to stand up to a bunch of bullies-”

“Again?” Apple Bloom shuddered.

“Wait,” Sweetie said, “did you break their faces?”

“Did do you it with a rock?” Scootaloo beamed.

“Huh?” one of Sol’s hooves shot up to his chest, his head flinching back.

Carte snickered, catching Sol’s attention. “Iunno what they’re talking about,” Carte shrugged.

Sol’s eyes narrowed, and he took a step towards Carte. “What did you tell them?” Sol asked firmly.

A barely suppressed chuckle escaped Carte’s mouth. “Mmmrh, just how I got my cutie mark by breaking a bully’s face with a rock.”

“Woah woah woah!” Sol bolted a few steps back and whirled around towards the fillies whilst wiggling a hoof in the air. “Hey, trust me, this story has a happy ending, alright?... Okay, it's a little violent, but, nothing you wouldn't see in a foal's cartoon.”

Silence briefly hung over the room. “Alright, go ahead,” Apple Bloom said hesitantly, rubbing her leg. Sweetie Belle sat still, and Scootaloo leaned forwards with a smile.

“Okay,” Sol approached the sofa and sat down with the fillies, “this was, hm, thirteen years ago when I was growing up in Manehattan, Hayston specifically..."

3 - Sol Nightshade

Author's Note

Content warnings for this chapter: Profanity, light violence, more children getting hurt (trust me this is not a running theme).

3 - Sol Nightshade

10:46 - 14/03/995 - Rosely Hackamore High School, Hayston

Hoofball needs no introduction. It’s the most played sport in Equestria by far and away. Even if you don’t count its griffon equivalent, it’s the most played sport in the whole world. After all, you only need two small teams of ponies, a large enough flat space to play, something to mark the goals, and a ball. “But what about Buckball,” you ask? You need at least two earth ponies, two winged ponies, and two unicorns to play. “What about Baseball?” Needs lots of space, specialised bats, a specific sort of ball, and plenty of ponies. “What about Hockey?” If you live south of Manesbury and it’s not winter, forget about it.

Consequently, at practically every recess in every school in Equestria, you’d find colts and fillies playing hoofball. Rosely Hackamore Primary School, a relatively small building with limited outdoor space embedded in the dense brick and concrete jungle of Manehattan, was no different. In its yard, sitting in the shadow of towering Manehattanite architecture, no more than ten foals were playing in a crude jackets-for-goalposts hoofball setup. Amongst them, me.

On defence, I carefully yet skillfully ran across the yard keeping my eyes on the pony with the ball, my hooves rhythmically pounding against the concrete. I was fully immersed in the frenzied dance of playing ponies. Everypony was shouting something to their teammates or opponents, and a small set of onlookers cheering us on only added to the cacophony.

Without team kits or anything, the only way to identify who was on what team was by headwear. If, like me, you weren’t wearing a hat, you were on my team. If you had a hat, you were on the opposing team. We had a remarkable level of organisation amongst our teams considering we were kids, everypony knew their role and we had our own set of gestures and callouts to communicate and coordinate effectively. To us it felt like we were putting layered tactics into high-energy play, but to outside observers, it probably looked like chaos.

Right then, a hat had the ball and he was dashing for our goal. Not just any hat, Hat Trick, captain of the local junior hoofball club. Yes, the hats/no hats for teams thing was his idea. I ran up to Hat’s side. Keeping pace was difficult and heaving breaths left my mouth. Hat Trick threw me a glance, barely for a moment, then refocused himself on the ball and our goal. They make it too easy, don’t they? They always underestimated me. He slows, ready to punt the ball forward. That’s my chance. I swept in front of him and tackled the ball beneath his hooves.

“Hey!” Hat Trick protested. I threw him a cheeky smirk as I dashed off with the ball.

I whirled around. To my dismay, hats block my every path. A teammate on offence signals for me to pass. No good, the way is blocked by hats. Another teammate, at another end of the yard, awaits me to pass. Much the same, they’re also blocked off. By then I was practically cornered. A hat was running up to me on my right.

My heart raced like the wind. I could only strafe or back up so much until I was pushed off the yard. Yet dead ahead, a clear space. A clear space to their opposing goal. I had to think fast. I had to move fast. I had to be fast.

I had to go big or go home.

Instinct taking over, I swung my leg around, striking the ball and catapulting it across the yard.

It rocketed past the hats, my teammates, whisked off of the hat goalie’s hat, and flew straight through the opposing goal.

The ball hadn’t even hit the ground before my teammates erupted into cheers.

“Solana! Sweet Celestia, that was amazing!”

“Yes! Go Sol!”

“Who says fillies can’t play hoofball?”

I was swept up in a tsunami of triumphant elation, a smile reached across my face and I leapt into the air punching a hoof skywards screaming joyous laughter. As I landed, one teammate threw their leg around me, and then I was hoisted up in the air as more came on my side, everypony on my team chanted “Sol! Sol! Sol!” whilst punching the air in sync. Even the hats were impressed, either that or stumbling around in disbelief.

In certain cutie mark origin stories, that would’ve been it. At the moment, overwhelmed with joy having achieved what felt like a momentous triumph, part of me expected a hoofball to flash onto my flank there and then and I’d be destined to play this sport for the rest of my life. It felt right.

Yet as I cracked my eyes open and gazed across the yard, I was ripped away from my moment.

By the wall across the yard, far from the playing area, I saw a small filly, definitely a year or so younger than me, flank against the bricks and surrounded by three colts. One was a stocky earth pony, two were pegasi, and each of them towered over the filly. Even from that distance, I could notice that the filly was shaking and cowering, obviously intimidated and fearful of the colts, as the three of them had sadistic smirks plastered across their muzzles.

The smile fell from my face and my eyebrows furrowed as the sight became the centre of my focus. Whatever satisfaction I felt was quickly fading away, giving way to disgust at what that filly was being subjected to. A moment or so after that my teammates lowered me to the ground, all of them oblivious to what had claimed my attention, bright smiles all around with some still patting me on the back.

“Sol,” a teammate called, “come on, we’re one-all, plenty of time before recess ends, let’s smash it!”

I looked at him, my displeased expression plain to see. He noticed then, and the grin he had started to fade. “Mind playing without me for a minute? That filly over there,” I said, pointing to the wall. “I’m gonna go help her.”

He looked where I was pointing, then back at me. He shrugged. “Okay, sure,” he said, then rushed off with the rest of my team. The game resumed moments later.

I set off on the short trot to the edge of the yard, passing foals wrapped up in their own worlds, paying me and my destination no mind. I caught small snippets of conversation from the surrounding ponies, yet I remained steadfast and focused on where I was headed. Notably, there was a complete absence of any members of school staff in the yard aside from Soupy the Janitor (a total bro, by the way) who was making his way to the break room. In a world that made sense, I knew I wouldn't have to do any of this and it would’ve been handled by the teachers. Yet whatever the reason, be it a lack of qualified ponies, all the good ones being overworked, some idiotic directive of noninterference, downright laziness or some combination of the above, it was left to me.

It didn’t take long before I was in earshot of what the bullies were saying. I caught the tail end of a taunt. “...and you oughta get used to it cuz you’re never gonna make any friends!” one of the pegasi said, his wings flared. The other pegasus had their wings out as well, like they were forming a barrier around the filly to keep them trapped.

“Make this easy for all of us,” the earth colt said, “and give us your damn money.”

I got a much better look at the four ponies at this distance. I didn’t know any names, yet they weren’t appearances I’d soon forget. The cowering earth filly had thick circular glasses, braces, messy curly hair, saddlebags on her sides, and she appeared a little overweight. She was utterly dwarfed by the three colts who surrounded her, each of their coats having various desaturated shades of light blue or grey, along with short gelled-up manes.

“Hey!” I shouted. It startles them, giving me a chance to slip under one of their wings and stand between the bullies and the filly. I notice that the filly is already cowering less. I puffed out my chest, flared magic in my horn and shot each of them a fierce scowl. “Back off,” I demanded.

All three of them untensed, their mouths hanging open as their brows wrinkled in confusion. “Solana?” one of them snorted. “What are you doing?”

“If you wanna get to her,” I snarled, narrowing my eyes and gritting my teeth, “you’ll have to get through me.”

A brief moment of silence came, the bullies blankly stared at me with dumbstruck looks on their faces. They looked at each other, their cheeks filled with air, their mouths released light pffts, and then they burst out into laughter. The mocking, belittling sort of laughter that was at least a little forced, as if to imply that whoever they were laughing at wasn’t worthy of a ‘real’ laugh, but I doubted that these three were thinking about it that deeply. A part of me was annoyed and insulted by it, the part that wanted to be taken seriously, but the part that drove me to come here, to rescue this filly from torment, saw only opportunity.

“You should go,” I turned back and whispered to the filly, taking advantage of the fact they were distracted.

She nodded, said “I gotta get to class, thanks,” with a slight lisp and quietly slipped away. Just in time too, as once she was out of sight their hysterical guffaw had started to die down.

“You think we’re scared of you?” the large earth pony mocked, slowing his laughter to a stop. “You’re just a dumb filly.”

For a moment, I believed them. On a worse day, words like that would’ve stabbed at me, would’ve made me falter. But not then. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t even blink.

One of the pegasi glanced around. “Hm, looks like the twerp ran off.”

“Yeah, but a wittle wannabe white-knight just showed up,” the large earth colt mocked, taking a step towards me as he peered down on me. This close, I too was dwarfed by the big earth colt as the two pegasi formed a barrier around me, and as it was clear I’d just become their new target, it was hard to resist shrinking away from them.

Yet I wasn’t one to go down without a fight. I grit my teeth and stood tall. “Do your worst, you big du- uh!”

The earth pony shoved me to the wall. Effortlessly. I flew flank-first into the wall. Pain jolted through my backside and I hardly repressed a wince. I nearly fell to the ground, yet I quickly regained my footing. It still hurt, but I pushed the pain to the back of my mind. Barely a few moments had passed and it was as if I hadn’t even been touched, throwing them a cocky grin as I stood up tall. “That all you got?” I heaved.

The earth colt grunted and glowered at me. I saw his lips curl and his teeth grit. He raised his hoof again, putting more of his body into it, and lunged forward. This time I dodged, slipping to the side as he tumbled forwards. I grinned, then felt a shove on my back. One of the pegasi had attacked. It threw me off balance, and before I noticed what was happening the earth colt came down on my back like a sledgehammer and forced me to the ground. I tried to push myself up, but his hoof was pressing into my barrel.

“Not so tough now, are ya?” the earth colt said. Mocking sniggers from each of the three bullies followed. It felt like he was putting his whole weight onto me, my skin pressing into the concrete. I made another effort to push myself up with my hooves, only to gasp in pain as a hoof pressed down onto my skull. He was practically rubbing my face into the ground, and it burned. The overpowering pressure of two earth pony forelegs forced me down, pressing into my back and weighing me down like lead.

I pushed and pushed against the ground desperately trying to regain my footing to no avail. I thought about how easy it would be to squeal, to cry out for help or simply to shout out to relieve the pain. Call it a misplaced sense of pride or rugged determination, but I knew that showing weakness or defeat would be giving these cretins exactly what they wanted. That was enough to keep me from crying.

The pressure loosened, barely. “Had enough?” the earth colt sneered, craning his head down closer to mine.

I looked back at him and saw the sick relentless sadism behind his eyes, behind his sardonic smile. But as I looked at him, he was looking at me. I presented him with a determined smirk, I wasn’t grinding my teeth, my brow didn’t quiver , I didn’t even groan or gasp. I saw him flinch. “No,” I said, “not yet.”

Magic ignites in my horn. Purple aura grabs the earth colt's tail and pulls. He yelped and stumbled backwards. That was my chance. I roll out from under his hooves and hop to my feet. I’m in front of him, crouched, only a matter of time until the three react. A pegasus lunges for me with a hoof raised. I dodged, hopped forwards, then I was behind the earth colt, who was quickly figuring out what was going on. The other’s close in. My buckball instincts kicked in, literally, and I launched a hind leg backwards. I heard a crunch.

I'd hit the earth pony in the crotch.

He screamed. Not screamed, screamed. It sounded like a chimera had been electrocuted and every one of its heads wailed at once. Immediately he collapsed to the floor writhing in pain, grasping at his crotch with his forelegs, kicking frantically with his hindlegs, howling shrill whines and cries. Part of me felt guilty, a larger part of me didn’t.

Stunned, the other two bullies staggered back. They then shoot down to pick the earth pony off of the ground, who was still winging and whining. A small number of foals around us had stopped to watch, some laughing, some staring in wonder or shock, and one actively egging us on.

“What is wrong with you?” one of the pegasi bullies wailed at me. “Crazy bitch!”

“Want more?” I swayed side to side on the spot restlessly. “Got more where that came from, come on!” I hadn’t lost my appetite for a fight, far from it. I could’ve done this all day.

One of the pegasi glares at me, seething hatred plastered across his face. He gets up, prepares to charge at me, only for the other pegasus to leap out in front of him and hold him back crying “woah woah woah woah! Stop, okay? She’s not worth it. Let’s just get out of here.”

The aggravated pegasus pushed against the other, snarling and flailing his hooves towards me. Before long his efforts slowed, and he just looked at me with furious eyes that looked like they were bulging out of his head. He spat at me, only for his spit fell pathetically to the ground nowhere near me. “Screw you, psycho bitch!” he yelled, before he and the other pegasus turned around and carried the earth pony away.

I came to a rest as the trio were halfway across the yard. “They’ll be a lot more of that if I catch you picking on anypony who ain’t your own size!” I yelled after them. One of the pegasi nearly turned back, they scowled as if they were gonna make a charge at me, but the other quickly grabbed them and turned them back around. They were out of sight moments later.

My breath and heartbeat slowed down to normal levels, short pangs of pain shot across my back and my face as the adrenaline faded as I groaned in discomfort. The small audience of onlookers dispersed, now completely uninterested as it was clear there was no more violence to gawk at today. I was then startled by-

RIIIIIING

-the bell signalling the end of recess. Crap, I needed to get to class.

12:51 - 14/03/995 - Rosely Hackamore High School, Hayston

My day had progressed as normal after that incident, surprisingly not a single teacher or member of the school staff had told me off. My guess was that nobody had told them what had happened. I’d known for a fact that none of the bullies would’ve told the teachers anything. Admitting you got your nuts kicked in by a filly would’ve wrecked their fragile egos, and it would’ve involved mentioning how they got into that situation in the first place.

Recess had just begun and I made my way into the yard, along with the countless other colts and fillies shuffling through the narrow doorway that led to fresh air. Well, as fresh as Manehatten air ever could be. Making my way across the outdoor area, my eyes scanned in search for the filly from earlier. Before long, I found her, sitting on an isolated bench pushed off into a quiet corner. Her focus was wholly centred on her lunch, not paying a lick of attention to her surroundings. I trotted over to her.

Even as I got closer, she wasn’t reacting like she’d noticed me. Undeterred, I sat down next to her and threw her a warm smile. “Hello there,” I said.

Her head jolted up, her startled expression quickly falling into calm relief once she recognised me. “Oh it’s you!” she smiled. “Thanks for earlier, um, Solana? Is that your name?”

“Yeah, but my friends call me Sol.”

“Oh, then… Thanks, Sol,” she said. “I’m Yarn.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Yarn,” I said.

She quietly took a bite out of her PB&J sandwich. After swallowing, she turned back to me. “I kinda watched from a distance, after I got away,” she said, “I’m surprised you took them on like that. Looked like you actually scared them.”

“You know what they say,” I added, “bullies are cowards. Most heel-turn and run at the first sign of trouble. But me being a filly, most colts don’t expect anything outta me. How long have they been bothering you?”

Yarn groaned. “Since I started here. It's only my first year at this school but it's been awful. It feels like everypony's out for themselves and any friends you make will abandon you at the first sign of trouble.”

“Yeah, I get you,” I said. “That's high school. In some countries they'd classify this as torture.”

“Yo, Sol!” I heard somepony call, catching my interest. I saw Hat Trick walking towards me, a baseball cap on his head whilst he was twirling a tweed flat cap on his hoof. “We’re gonna play again, you’re on our team this time. You down to clown?”

My eyes lit up with joy. To be perfectly honest, Hat was a better player than me, I was only able to best him so often as he never stopped underestimating me even after so many years playing together. That just meant that the two of us on a team together would be practically unstoppable. A wide smile grew on my lips as the image of us winning goal after goal flashed through my mind.

But then my eyes flicked behind him. Across the yard and slightly obscured behind a wall, were the three bullies from earlier giving me the evil eye. As soon as eye contact was established, they flinched and retreated behind the wall. Indeed, these bullies were cowards and through my actions they’d learned to stay back. As long as I was with Yarn, they’d keep clear. But if I left Yarn alone…

"You know what, Hat?" I said as I turned back to him, "I think I'll sit this one out."

Hat’s eyes went wide, he half-repressed a laugh, and the flatcap on his hoof went limp and still. “For real?”

“Yeah. For real,” I said, sitting up a little.

“Hm, alright, your call,” Hat said. He stashed the flatcap into his jacket and turned away, trotting over to the playing yard.

Yarn and I sat quietly for a minute or so. I wasn’t sure what she was looking at but I was keeping an eye out for the trio of bullies. They had yet to reemerge. Eventually, Yarn broke the silence. “You like playing hoofball?”

“Oho, yeah,” I replied.

“You’re good enough to play with the colts?” Yarn asked.

“More than good enough,” I grinned.

“So,” she paused, eyes glancing around the yard before settling back on me, “why are you here with me?”

“Simple, cuz I want to stick up for you,” I said.

“Even if I’m here for all of recess?” she said, holding her lunchbox close to her chest.

“Sure!” I reassured her.

She forced out a short laugh and looked away from me, tensing up slightly as her inner eyebrows pushed up. “It’s just- I wouldn’t wanna keep you.”

“Really, I don’t mind,” I insisted. “If it means keeping those morons away, I’ll stay here all lunch.”

“Hrmm,” she sighed wistfully. She turned her head to look up at me. “But, why’d you want to spend all this time looking after me when you could be out there playing hoofball? Isn’t that what you want to do? Show off your strength to all the colts?”

I let out a light chuckle. “What good would all this strength be if I didn’t use it to help ponies who didn’t have it?”

16:46 - 6/04/1008 - Lunar Castle, Everfree Forest

“Then I felt something funny on my flank, look back, and bam!” Sol kicked his flank up, presenting his cutie mark to the small audience of three amazed fillies and two lounging stallions.

Sol shook his head, two stallions? He looked to the garnet thestral who had silently entered some time ago and was slouching on one of the sofas, right next to Carte. “Poca, when did you get here?”

“Ourgh?” Poca mumbled, pushing his matted hair away from his face.

“Poca got here a few minutes ago while you were telling your story. He’s waiting for Sel,” Carte said with a devious smirk.

“Ah, alright,” Sol nodded, and then he turned to the fillies. “This is Pocarona, my brother-in-law.”

“Yeah, uh, hi,” said Poca, pulling up a hoof to lightly wave. Dressed in a dirty blue boiler-suit, the small thestral looked like he hadn’t had a change of clothes or even a shower in nearly a week. He had hair to spare in his mane and tail, both tied into loose ponytails but without any sense of tidiness as they were matted and greasy. An ever-present aura of exhaustion surrounded Poca, bags under his eyes that rarely made eye contact with anypony. Even the signature thestral fangs that poked out of his mouth were tinged with yellow, with the overall effect amplified by a strange stench radiating off of him that was reminiscent of sweat, weed, and motor oil.

Sweetie felt her nostrils wrinkle, instinctively putting her hoof to her mouth. “So that’s where that smell was coming from,” she murmured to her friends.

“You can, uh, finish your story,” Poca said, “I don't mean to interrupt or anything.”

“Just about done, actually,” Sol turned to the fillies. “What did you think?”

Scootaloo fluttered her wings excitedly. “It was awesome!”

Apple Bloom shuffled on the spot. “Glad it had a happy endin’.”

Sweetie Belle stroked her chin. “I liked it, but you kept saying you were a filly, what was that about?”

Sol shrugged with a smirk. “Didn't know I'd grow up and find out I was a stallion.”

“Ohh, I see,” Sweetie nodded.

“Hold on hold on,” Poca perked up and smacked his lips, “we doing cutie mark stories?”

“Yeah!” Scootaloo jumped up. “What's yours?”

Instantly Pocarona's sleepy expression lit up into a bright smile, the bags under his eyes virtually vanished and he leapt off of the sofa. “Alright! You'll like this. You know what the egg drop challenge is, right?”

4 - Pocarona

Author's Note

Content warnings for this chapter: An unreasonable amount of profanity and incomprehensible text skirting the rules of the site.

4 - Pocarona

quarter to 2 in the morning or smth - february 18th 992 - facula primary school, fledermaus

egg drop challenges, the thing schools do to try to keep unengaged students engaged for a single period which works like half of the time but the results are normally very funny

either the kids could not give any less of a fuck about any of this shit and think a parachute will do it or you have a kid (me) who gets waaaaay into it and takes it way way way too seriously

class was about twenty-six foals and we were split into pairs, in my case i was paired with selenite (my twin sister). we usually get along together pretty well it made sense to pair us we do understand each other more than anypony else ever but we arent always compatible? like when we started she grabbed this physics book and dove right in trying to figure out the physics but im here like, thats boring! i dont wanna READ shit! i wanna DO shit! thats way easier and way better fr you dont learn shit by reading you learn shit by doing and then fucking up and then doing again and fucking up and then finally giving in and checking a book by finding the right page with the solution and then doing it again and still fucking up and then doing it ONE LAST TIME where you get it right

my device was uhhhh idk how to describe it its kind of like a triangle thing made of of straws, plastic straws not the other sort of straw in hay or whatever, moon “straw” is such a weird word isnt it? straw. straw. try saying straw aloud like five times, it doesn’t even sound like a real word. but anyway the device, it looks like like, wait i got a spare post-it in my pocket lemme just- no thats a screwdriver- no shit thats WOW i cant mention that around fillies- ok thats a peanut??- ok ok here

there look

its like a straw pyramid containing the egg each of the straws is about 7 and a half centimeters and taped to each edge of the pyramid is longer straws. wait, shit i wrote staws instead of straws, pretend you didnt see that.

see it works because the force of the impact goes up through the straws and because none of the straws lead towards the egg the force never touches the egg. as long as the build is sturdy and the egg is well kept in the centre its not gonna be anywhere near the ground and the straws will absorb all the impact. physics!! funny i tried explaining this to my other classmates once i had my completed device and LITERALLY only selenite got it ok everyone else is just stupid

at this point im meant to describe the process of building it but i wont, because describing that would be boring as shit! all you need to know is that i spent the next twenty minutes cobbling together crap plastic straws with tape using my bare hooves and it drives me MAD that NOPONY ever stops to think how can our HARD HOOVES handle these precise delicate tools we have NO APOSABLE APPENDAGES how do i hold a wrench or fold paper with a HOOF is it “just magic”? is that how we hoofwave everything? is that what we tell ourselves as a distraction from the fact that none of these tools INCLUDING the very wrench eternally plastered on my flank was designed with equine anatomy in mind?

anyway i made my egg drop device. selenite was still nose deep in her book by the time i was done with it literally not even noticing how much time had gone by. i’d finished putting the final touches on my thing when the teacher called it. we got up and went outside after that.

everypony, nearly everypony, at our school was a bat pony so it was as simply as one of the two ponies who made it flying up around 8 meters and dropping. what followed was VERY funny, like some kids dropped theres halfway up and it broke, most devices were like these basket parachute things that straight up didnt work, or fell apart mid air, or broke on impact. one kid put their egg in a tub of peanut butter??? why??

i was up last, selenite took a look at my design and she figured it was good and im glad we agreed because MAN i was nervous when i went up, not because i doubt the design i just get goosebumps when the spotlight is on me EEE its weird its weird!!

delicately OH SO DELICATELY i carry my (not mine and selenite’s MINE ask her she’ll tell you it was COMPLETELY MINE) device out into the yard. i spread my wings and i shot skywards, some , then i got confident and went HIGHER, TWICE AS HIGH as the others, and the dramatic music starts playing (you should be playing dramatic music in your head right now) and after releasing a breathe i didnt know i was holding i let go and

TIME

STOPS

there are moments in the history of ponykind that are remembered for centuries to come as signals of great innovation. the discovery of new mareland. the pony wright brothers famous flight. pony james watt’s invention of the crystal-electric engine. this isnt one of them not even close but it felt sorta big at the time. perchance. my device, so light and so delicate, descends to the ground in a timeframe that felt like hours but in truth was less than two seconds until-

HOLY SHIT, NO WAY! it worked exactly as intended. UNHARMED. UNTOUCHED. PERFECTLY PRESERVED NOT EVEN A MOON DAMN SCRATCH ON THE EGG. the teacher looked excited and the classmates applauded me but then i felt something funny on my flank. i was like “oh moon please no dont tell me im destined to make EGG DROP DEVICES for the rest of my life” but then i check and its this weird moon wrench thing which works

honestly i think everypony stopped caring that their egg drop devices all sucked and were just cheering for me getting my cutie mark, selenite was straight up ecstatic and the teachers called our parents right away. great night, loved it, 10/10, would smash (not the egg tho)

16:48 - 6/04/1008 - Lunar Castle, Everfree Forest

Poca threw himself back onto the sofa, a proud smirk across his muzzle. “So, whatcha think?”

Sweetie’s mouth hung open. Apple Bloom stared blankly. Scootaloo blinked, then blinked again.

“That’s it?” Sweetie finally said.

Just as quickly as it appeared Poca’s smile fell into a frown. “Hey, look, there’s not many ways I can make an egg drop story interesting alright? Put my own spin on it, worth something then. Least it’s unique.”

“Sure, but,” Scootaloo chimed in, “did you need to tell it like that?”

“Well- I- Ju-” Poca stammered, gesturing with his hooves unpredictably. “What did you expect? You wanted my story, I gave you my story!”

“Ah don’t mind the story,” Apple Bloom said, “like she said it’s how you told it, ya just wouldn’t stop swearin’, went off on awkward tangents, didn’t really try and explain anythin’ in detail, sorta just a mess to listen to, and- and ya can't just say 'perchance' randomly-”

“Well, not all of us can be master storytellers!” Poca complained. “Throw me a bone here! Moon damn!”

The fillies turned to look at each other, then back at Poca, then back at each other. “Whatever,” Sweetie sighed, slumping back.

“Y’know what,” Sol hopped to his feet, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

A forced, awkward smile on his face, Sol scurried out of the room.

Some moments passed without a word being said. The Crusaders sank into their seats, either staring at the ceiling or sharing looks with each other while Poca quietly sulked with his forelegs crossed. Nopony made a sound until Carte broke the silence. “For what it's worth, dear, I thought your story was wonderfully told. Unorthodox perhaps, but undeniably yours,” Carte said, putting a leg around Poca’s shoulders and pulling him closer.

“Hmgrh,” Poca grunted, his lips slightly curling into a small smile. “Thanks, hm. Thanks.”

Giggling, Carte pushed himself closer to Poca. “Have to say, I love a pony who’s passionate and unapologetically themselves,” Carte purred, caressing Poca’s chest. A bright red blush flashed on Poca’s face, as he released a laugh, his lips curled into an uneasy smirk. Carte delicately leaned in close and whispered into Poca’s ear. “I wonder, where else will you take that passion?”

“Oh, gross!” Sweetie screeched, hopping up and grabbing the attention of the two stallions. “We’re right here you know!”

“Yeah, get a room!” Scootaloo groaned. “Yeesh!”

Apple Bloom just tried to ignore the smutty stallions.

With a smirk, Carte hopped to his hooves. “Point taken! Poca darling, come.”

“Uh?” Poca blankly blinked at Carte. “Okay!” he grinned, stumbling out of the sofa. Carte gracefully cantered to one of the exits, a gleeful yet floundering Poca in tow, and as they stepped through a door and slammed it behind them. With that, the Crusaders were on their own again.

They were quiet for a minute, mostly just glancing around the now empty chamber. In the silence, the minutiae of the chamber came into focus for each of the fillies. The barely audible ambient buzz of the castle at work, the ticking of the clock which agonizinly crept towards five o’clock at a snails pace, as well as the thought that these sofas might be too large and soft for ponies of their size.

“I tell ya’,” Apple Bloom said, “next pony who comes in, I ain’t askin’ ‘em for a cutie mark story. Been too dang weird and they’ve put a bad taste in mah mouth. The nice pony had a violent story, the nice story came from a weird pony, and the first dang story was nuts and from a nutjob.”

“Even if they look like they’ve got a really cool story?” asked Sweetie Belle.

“I don’t care if they’re the sort of pony who’s beggin’ to be asked,” Apple Bloom said fiercely, “a pony who screams ‘I have an interestin’ cutie mark story’ from just lookin’ at em’, it’s prolly gonna be a crazy messed up story that ends with somepony dead.”

“If that sort of pony shows up, I’ll just ask them myself,” Scootaloo scoffed.

Almost as if on cue, one of the doors burst open and a unicorn mare came storming through. “Bloody hell, where the fook is it?” she grunted, catching the attention of the Crusaders. The mare hastily trotted around the sofas, keeping her head close to the ground as her eyes scanned the space beneath her. Immediately, the fillies’ (sans Apple Bloom) faces lit up with curiosity as they wanted to know what the mare was up to, especially as they couldn’t put a name to her accent.

“Agh!” the mare groaned. The fillies couldn’t see the look on her face to figure out whether the groan was in pain or anger, as she was behind the sofa on the opposite side of the chamber. They heard the twinkle of magic, and the mare’s head popped out from behind the sofa with a dusty grey-brown book in her magical aura. “Who in the name’a fook left this here? A tome of unimaginable power and wisdom, and some cretin leaves it under a random bloody sofa? What sort of retar-”

The mare froze. Only now had she realised that the room was occupied, and her piercing bronze-golden eyes stared at the three fillies whilst her tightly-closed lips trembled. It gave the trio a better look at the new entrant, her greasy black mane, tied into a ponytail at the back, her moss-green coat that appeared slightly thicker than the average pony’s, and an outfit that consisted of a light-purple shirt, ebony waistcoat and pants, and silver-blue bolo tie.

“Hey, Miss!” Scootaloo put an endearing smile on her face. “We’re the Cutie Mark Crusaders, ponies-”

“Not now!” the mare barked back, pulling the book close to her chest. “Can'tcha see I’m busy here ye bam?”

“Bam?” Scootaloo tilted her head, eyebrow raised.

“Bam! Below-average mentality!” the mare spat back. “Means you’re a daftie!”

“Daftie?”

“An eejit!”

“Eejit?”

“A tube!”

“Tube!?”

“An idiot!”

Scootaloo’s mouth hung open briefly. “...oh. Anyway! We’re the Cutie Mark Crusaders, ponies dedicated to helping others discover their true talents! And if there’s one thing we love-”

“Did you not listen to a word I just said?” the mare murmured whilst she stared blankly at Scootaloo.

“-it’s hearing how other ponies got their cutie marks to learn how best to push ponies along to discovering their own! So, Miss, if you’d be so kind-”

“Lassie,” the mare said, much calmer than before but still obviously irritated. “I’m not in a very story-sharin’ mood right now, and I have no idea who you are. Let’s leave it at that, alright? Alright.”

“Then let’s start with names! I’m Scootaloo!” Scootaloo said with a grin. She then gestured to her friends, “and these are my friends Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom!”

“Oh, brother…” Apple Bloom buried her face in her hooves.

“Hi?” Sweetie waved.

“What’s your name, Miss?” Scootaloo scooted to the edge of the sofa, leaning forward.

In response, the mare grumbled. “My name is Polar Star,” she lied. While she didn’t reveal it then, this was a pseudonym she used to avoid telling ponies her true name: Grim Fate.

“Okay Polar Star,” Scootaloo said, waving her over, “may we see your cutie mark?”

Grim’s eyes rapidly shot from filly to filly, her body stiff. “Alright,” she said as she untensed, “fine.”

Placing the book on the central table and releasing it from her magical grasp, in plain view, Grim made her way around the sofa and up to the fillies. She unfastened the belt on her pants and pulled them down, showing the trio the side of her bare flank, which displayed an unfurled scroll inscribed with illegible red ink behind a sickle. “I’m a mage, a specialist in a particular sort of magic, that’s what my cutie mark is about,” she explained. Sweetie and Scootaloo examined it with intrigue, while Apple Bloom looked at it out of politeness more than anything else.

“Cool!” Sweetie said.

“And how did you get it?” Scootaloo asked.

Grim stumbled back, pulling a forehoof up as her eyebrows pulled together. “I- Alright, I’m not from Equestria, I’m not from what you’d call a ‘civilised’ part of the world, so it’s not a pleasant story. It’s a crazy messed up story that ends up with somepony dead-”

“Told ya!” Apple Bloom half-groaned half-gloated.

“-so I’ll be warning you now,” Grim pulled up her pants and fixed her belt. “Do you really wanna know how I got this cutie mark?”

“Yes!” Scootaloo sat up straight.

“Eh, sure,” Sweetie settled back.

“No…” Apple Bloom sank down.

Grim shrugged. “Well, if you insist," she said. Then she threw out a hoof and spoke in a dramatic bellow. "Long ago in a distant land, I Gr- uh, Polar Star, the enigmatic master of magic…”

5 - Grim Fate

Author's Note

Content warnings for this chapter: Death, violence, light gore, swearing like a Scotsman.

5 - Grim Fate

5:54 - 12/01/993 - Firtree Wilderness

The sun crept over the horizon and cast long shadows across the forest floor, yet the bitterly cold air nagged at me.

These woods were often quiet, except for the crunch of the leaves beneath our hooves and the occasional chirp of birdsong. As sunlight encroached further, it filled the forest with a soft red glow, but as it reflected off of the thin layer of ice and snow coating the ground and the foliage, it somehow made it appear even colder than before. As a wild gust blew through my cloak, I pulled it closer to my body, my breath coming out in foggy puffs of mist. Part of me was surprised at how much light and wind could reach through the soaring tall trees. I hurried along. I found that moving quickly warmed me up compared to walking slowly or staying still.

“Grim, slow down,” my mother called from behind. “You’re rushing ahead again.”

“Mum, I told you,” I said, hopping over a thin icy stream that ran through the path. “I'd rather be writin' spells at home and I want this over and done with soon as possible.”

“You’re learning how to forage whether you like it or not.” Mum called back, carefully crossing over a pair of dry rocks amidst the stream.

We were from a part of the world far from everything. No industry, no large-scale trade, no advanced technology, no cohesive infrastructure, nothing but small farming villages separated by vast stretches of untamed wilderness. Cartographers barely bothered mapping it, diplomats barely bothered with missions to it, and bandits barely bothered raiding it. What was there to chart, to bargain for, or to plunder, anyway? Yet in spite of the… unsophisticated nature of such a society, a single law is imposed upon us all: Magic in all its forms shall not exist in the Firtree Villages.

For the Fate family, a tight-knit family of mages who’ve lived on these lands for centuries, this forced us into the margins of an already marginal society. The whole point of the Firtree Villages as a political entity was to solve problems that a single village could not solve alone, but as outcasts, we were alone. It made us strong, forced us to be strong, led us to learn magic that even the civilised world would gag at. When you skirt on the razor’s edge of annihilation every single day, it’s not like you have a choice. But we prefer it that way. If it’s perilous freedom or being “secure” and restrained, we’d pick the former every single time.

“I can forage just fine, Mum,” I threw her an exasperated look. “Gloomy's better at it, why dintcha bring her out instead?”

“And if Gloomy isn’t around and you need dragonsnap for a healing potion?” Mum said, catching up to me. “What kind of matriarch would you be then?”

As the first born of my siblings, I was at the front of the line to become the next family matriarch, but we didn’t see it this way. Our family sought mastery over life and death as our ultimate goal and we understood the soul to be eternal, so matters of inheritance or the thought of passing things down to later generations weren't on our minds. It was simply the case that now we faced death and as long as we did, the family would need new leaders from the younger generation.

Given her age, my mother was remarkably vigorous and energetic. It was rare for ponies to live terribly long out here, but our willingness to use magic to prolong our lives gave us a notable advantage. Me and her were the same height, had the same build, though her face displayed certain signs of age, light wrinkles, the occasional scar, and so on. Her mane was like mine, black and long, yet her coat was a considerably lighter shade of green compared to me, resembling muted moss more than anything. Both of us were equipped well for the forest, thick cloaks around our bodies, sturdy boots on our hooves, and packed saddlebags strapped to our sides.

“I said I can forage just fine, Mum,” I grimaced, picking up my speed a little.

“When were you last out foraging anyway?” she says, quickly matching my hastened pace. “Can't risk you forgetting!”

“I'm not gonna forget how to forage-”

“Hang on!” Mum stopped, putting a foreleg out in front of me. “We're close.”

I hadn't noticed until then, but the air of the woods had changed considerably. Gone was the chilling purple glow of the wider woods, as it had given way to a sickly green fog, the pungent scent of decay pervading the whole environment. I heard the croaks of frogs and toads, the chirps of small birds, the trill of insects, and the light trickling of water. The ground beneath our hooves, still coated with frost, had notably softened and taken on a wet, muddy consistency, made evident by the clear trail of deep hoofprints left in our wake. All the trees had morphed from tall and domineering to gnarled, twisted things, their branches reaching out erratically as the surrounding vegetation had also grown denser and was drenched in a thick layer of moss.

A smirk creeping onto her lips, Mum advanced forward steadily. “Now, dragonsnap isnt hard to find if you know what you’re doing. Here especially, everything’s green and muddy, but dragonsnap’s usually bright red or orange. Sticks out like a sore wing.”

Following closely, I huffed. I wanted to groan that I knew all of this already, but in truth a refresher was well needed. It was only by luck that my eyes wandered around the swamp and I spotted a mass of bushes off on the side accented with little red flowers.

“Like that?” I said, pointing in their direction.

Mum’s ears perked up, her head spun around to where I pointed. “Aye! Exactly like that!” she beamed.

She rushed over to the bushes, trampling over smaller shrubs and crushing fallen branches beneath her hooves in her hurry, which slowed down to a steady sneak as she got closer. Mum was often moody, such a thing came with age, living in this environment, and raising children like me and my siblings, but when she found success in a forage, in potion brewing, or in spell crafting, she lit up with an infectious joy that I couldn't help feel myself.

I followed, and as I got closer the flowers themselves came closer into view. Appropriately shaped like the head of a dragon and about the size of a unicorn’s horn, the petals displayed bright shades of red and orange, and at first glance they seemed like an ordinary flower, the sort of thing a wealthy pony would use to decorate their garden. In the single bush in front of us there were around a dozen. On closer inspection, however, I noticed that the leaves came together to form a trap-like shape, with sharp thorns lining the inside of the trap and a thick orange nectar dripping from its “maw”.

I was familiar with these plants as I’d picked them before and used their nectar in potion brewing. Their healing qualities, when combined with certain other ingredients, is unmatched. Even the raw nectar makes for an effective salve, burning away dead flesh and speeding up blood clotting around wounds.

Mum turned back to me, a hoof raised. “Careful around dragonsnap, the name’s not a joke. If you disturb it it’ll-”

The dragonsnap snapped at Mum. She quickly yoinked her hoof away, avoiding the attack.

“-do that. Heh,” she smirked.

Mum’s horn lit up, her aura engulfed an empty jar she had kept in her saddlebags. Quickly, she brought the jar under the flower, grasped the stalk of the flower in her magic, then easily pulled it out of the bush and into the jar. Already, the flower was leaking nectar into the jar.

She turned around, smiling at me, presenting the jar. “See, love? Now, you get one.”

Hoping to examine the flower more closely, I leaned my head forwards. Foolishly, in retrospect! The flower shot out and nearly bit my snout off. I pulled my head back just in time. My teeth grit as I seethed at the pesky plant. Flaring magic in my horn, my aura grasped the stalk and violently ripped it from the bush. Now with the limp plant in hand, I felt a flash of triumph until its precious resin leaked out onto the ground.

“Agh!” I groaned, scrambling to shove the flower into Mum’s jar.

Mum giggled. “You’re supposed to have a container ready before you pick it.”

“Yeah, I know-”

A sudden rustle stopped me. I gasped and jumped sideways. Not that far off, I saw a mass of bushes moving slightly before slowly coming to a stop, little bits of moss and small leaves falling to the ground around the bush. I felt no wind in the air and couldn’t hear the telltale sound of any animal I knew. An uneasy feeling crept over me. What little movement I saw was far too much to have been made by a small animal, and the bushes were easily large enough to conceal a stallion.

"Did you hear that?" I shuddered. I felt a surge of magic flow into my horn, my eyes were fixed on the bushes.

Mum poked her head up, her ears pointing towards the bushes. "Aye," she whispered, "best to stay back. Be ready for a fight, but don't go looking for one."

I looked back at Mum for half a second, then shot my gaze back at the bushes. Another rustle. Quieter this time. But the whole bush shook. I was sure that something was in there. Watching us. The thought made me shudder. I felt my teeth grit and my lips curl. Already anxiety and curiosity were getting the better of me. Tentatively, I made a step forward. Then another. Before I knew it I was gently walking towards the bushes ahead.

“Grim,” Mum whispered. “Stay back.”

I crept closer to the bushes. They stank like festering carrion. The whole swamp was quiet, deathly quiet. Not even the buzz of flies you’d expect to hear with such a smell. Only the squelch of my boots against the mud and the shimmer of magic in my horn made a sound. I sucked in heavy breaths of foetid swamp air through my teeth. Smaller details like snapped branches in shallow footprints and scattered leaves came into focus. Whatever it was, I knew I had to be prepared.

"Grim, where’re y’ going?” Mum’s voice was louder that time.

Not far from the bushes the stench became so potent I could taste the rot. It made my fur stand on its ends. My steps became uneasy. Yet I was undeterred. If there was something in there, I’d want to know what it is and if I needed to kill it before it jumped at us.

“Grim, get back here, now!” she firmly demanded, voice raised again.

I stopped my muzzle mere inches away from a wide dark gap in the bush. I peered in closer, my need to know fully conquering any sense of safety. At first, nothing, only empty blackness. Far darker than it should’ve been, as if light simply ceased to exist inside the gap. The daunting black seemed to extend endlessly.

Until suddenly I saw two burning green eyes staring back at me.

It lunged and screamed. I ducked, it whizzed over my head. Had I hesitated at all, it would’ve ripped my head clean off. I spun around and recoiled at the horror that stood between me and my mother.

“What in the unholy name of fuck is that?” I gasped.

It was an earth pony, but nothing like any pony I’d seen before. Definitely a stallion. Deep sanguine coat. Stringy mossy hair. Glowing green eyes locked on me in a feral stare. A black-toothed grin that stretched the whole width of its snout. Wood grafted onto the skin up its legs and across its head. Ivory claws on its hooves. Mud, blood, and grime splattered across its body and especially around its mouth. Like a pony had been fused with a timberwolf or some other ungodly beast. The sight alone was enough to make me stagger backwards. Let alone the feral growls and the deathly stench.

“You,” it breathed, saliva leaking between its putrescent teeth. “Next.”

The monster pounced. Fast enough to clear the distance in less than half a second. Arcane power burst from my horn to form a shield. But instead of the monster slamming into the shield a chunk of earth twice its size launched out of the ground and into its underside. The chunk splattered to pieces, the monster thrown upwards and backwards. It landed on its back, groaned, then rolled to its hooves. Its head spun around, and it flinched at the sight of my mother. The monster saw the blazing light engulfing her horn and, perhaps more intimidating, the burning rage on her face.

“Get away from her, you bitch!” Mum hissed.

Growling, the beast charged at Mum. Her horn flared and launched brilliant streaks of magic into the earth. Thick vines shot out of the ground and grappled onto the monster, dragging it to the ground, halting its advance. The monster thrashed and slashed against the vines fruitlessly, their grip unimaginably tight. Lightning crackled in Mum’s horn. She threw her head forwards, and unleashed a full-on thunderstorm onto the monster. The electric surge paralyzed the monster as horrific savage screams were forced out of its maw. The blinding light and shrill screams overwhelmed me, and I recoiled back.

Yet Mum could only keep her electric assault up for so long. Only ten seconds in, the magic ceased streaking from her horn. She faltered back, pants passing through grinded teeth with eyes clenched shut. The monster prepared to charge. Without thinking, I unleashed a blast of magic at the beast. It stumbled but remained standing. It spun around and glared at me, then dashed in my direction.

I fired bolt after bolt yet my magic had practically no effect. As it rapidly approached my magic changed for the defensive and I projected a shield. Only for it to tear through the shield like it was made of paper and it tackled me before I’d even processed what happened. I felt like I’d been hit by a train, immediately forcing all the air out of me and definitely breaking something as it forced me to the ground. My back in the mud, I couldn’t move, its hooves were pressing down on my legs. I struggled and briefly saw its long coal black tongue lick its cracked lips. It bore its teeth and lunged for my throat.

A hair’s breadth away from death, it was yanked away and sent hurling. Mum had grabbed its tail with her magic and saved me. I rolled right way up and stumbled to my hooves. Some distance away Mum and the monster brawled. Fire spewed out of Mum’s horn. It slowed the beast but didn’t stop it. Physically and magically I was weak. All I could do was struggle to charge a spell in my horn and stagger forwards. Mum sent a blast of magic into the earth that launched tall wooden spikes up to impale the beast. Only it dodged and weaved between every one of them. Mum nearly had another spell charged until the monster barreled into her. Moments later she was pinned down.

“Grim, get out of here-” Mum’s shout was cut off as the monster slashed into her throat.

“Mum!”

Fear filled me for a moment which was quickly replaced with furious rage and determination. Power, raw unrelenting power surged into my horn, more power than I knew I was capable of channelling, and I quickly discharged it at the beast. The recoil nearly threw me off my hooves. But the blast catapulted the beast off of Mum and far across the swamp. I saw the beast splash into a pond.

Its head surfaced, even with the distance between us its glare pierced through the dark fog. It leaped from the pond and charged. I had to act quickly, magic in my horn I prepared another blast. Until I spotted a fallen tree to my side. I would’ve smirked if my rage wasn’t so all-encompassing. The beast had cleared half the distance between us. I redirected my magic to lift the tree from the ground. The beast got closer. I heaved and felt my horn strain from the weight. The beast was in pouncing range. I’d lifted the whole trunk off of the ground.

And I swung.

There was a loud, sonorous crack, whether it was the tree itself or some part of the monster I couldn’t tell. Yet it was thrown clean off of its hooves and sent flying. It crashed into another tree and fell to the ground flailing and uncontrolled. With the whole length of the trunk now in my grasp, carrying it felt so much easier. The monster struggled to its hooves and hastily limped towards me. Easily enough time for me to ready another blow, and strike.

The monster was thrown into the mud. Handling the trunk became effortless. Every time the monster shakily got back up, I hit it again. Harder and stronger each time. I’d knocked out teeth, claws, parts of its wooden armour, even ripped off bits of flesh as I frantically yet precisely hammered it to ruin. It didn’t take long before the monster could barely stand. It looked ready to flee. It wouldn’t.

Fiery hatred powering me, I made one last devastating swing that broke off a chunk of the trunk and launched the monster towards the pond.

With a splash, the monster sank into the pond. I saw its head surface as the rest of its body kicked frantically. That was the perfect chance. The tree still in my grasp I thrust it into the monster’s torso and held it underwater. Seeing beneath the murky and mossy surface of the pond was difficult but the sight of the monster’s frantic, desperate kicks and grasps was unmistakable. It slashed and roared and swallowed untold amounts of filthy swamp water. I must’ve unknowingly stabbed it with a sharp piece of the trunk as blood streaked to the surface. Every time I felt like it was making headway I thrust the tree in harder. No chance of escape.

Over the course of a minute, the monster’s panicked kicks slowed. They became sad little pushes rather than kicks. Soon they’d stopped completely, bubbles flowed out of its hanging mouth, and the beast went still.

My magic faded, the tree fell and crashed into the pond. The monster’s lifeless body then floated to the surface, limp as a ragdoll. I’d finished it. I’d killed this bastard and absolutely proven myself a capable mage. I just needed to get back home so Mum and I could patch ourselves up, the dragonsnap wasn’t going anywhere. Finally allowing myself to smile, a quick laugh escaped my lips. “Alright, Mum! The bastard’s dead!” I shouted.

I didn’t hear a reply.

“Mum?” I shouted again, turning around.

Then my heart sank.

“Mum!” I ran over to Mum, who was lying still on the ground.

I must’ve already known what had happened but denial remained at the forefront of my mind. Yet the closer I got, the more blood I saw mixed with the mud, the better look I got at the deep gruesome cut on her neck, and her motionless form became more stark and unsettling. This pony I’d known and loved as long as I could remember, the most important figure in my life…

“No, M-mum you can’t- Not-” I got down on the ground and put my hooves around Mum, barely choking out coherent words.

I was supposed to be ready. Living out here was supposed to be hard. You were supposed to expect death could claim you at any moment. We chose this life on the fringe and we were supposed to accept the consequences. Yet when I was staring those consequences in the face, words failed me.

Lips trembling and eyes watering, until I collapsed forwards and devolved into a broken sobbing ruin. “Mum… You- No, please… Just, Mum…”

It would’ve seemed that in our struggle to conquer death, death conquered us. As it had since the dawn of time, and as it would until the end of the universe.

“No.”

Once more the feelings that left me crippled were thrown aside by anger. Anger, that ever-powerful emotion that carries the otherworldly power to force you to do things you’d never do otherwise. And usually this anger found an outlet in my horn. I stood up. Teeth grinding so hard it hurt. I aimed my horn up, and I released a long, strained…

“NO!”

Bright brilliant bursts of golden magic shot skywards. The light illuminated the entire swamp and the boom of the magic combined with my defiant screams produced a sonic cacophony that made even the sturdiest trees shake. As if I had fired a harpoon that had pierced the heavens themselves. That harpoon quickly caught something. I reeled it in and directed the arcane stream towards my mother. Her eyes shot open glowing orange. Her skin writhed. Her muscles convulsed. Her lips juddered. Gurgled whines escaped her lips. The gash on her neck started to close. I could feel my own blood beginning to boil in my veins, my muscles straining to their breaking point. My horn, my body, my soul all felt like they were on fire.

At least until my vision went blurry, and my mind went woozy. The light faded from my horn, and I collapsed on top of Mum’s motionless body.

I had nothing left to give except tears. The fire that raged within me had been reduced to a dwindling smoulder. No matter how hard I thought, which wasn’t very hard as whatever mental capacity I had was drained, I couldn’t think of a reason to get up. Nor could I find the physical energy to move. I was prepared to lie here for the rest of my life.

Then I felt Mum’s chest heave.

I shot up. My breaths turned fast and frantic. The horrible wound on her neck had closed entirely, a thick fleshy scar in its place. I put my hoof to her neck. I felt a pulse.

Her eyes inched open, pupils unfocused at first until they fell on me. She uneasily brought her head off the ground. Her breaths came out strained and raspy, her limbs shivered. But she was there. Back from the dead.

“G-Grim?” she wheezed. Tears in her eyes she smiled at me, I smiled back, and we wordlessly embraced each other in a hug.

16:55 - 6/04/1008 - Lunar Castle, Everfree Forest

“After that, we stayed in the woods for a bit. Must’ve held that hug for three or four minutes, bawling our eyes out. I hadn’t even realised I’d gotten me cutie mark until we were back home and I took my cloak off. Have to assume it was the resurrection spell that did it.” Grim sighed to herself, her eyes had drifted to the floor. “That's about it. What d'ya think?”

Only then, after finishing her story and looking up at the fillies, did Grim notice their reactions and her eyes went wide.

All three of the Crusaders were veritably speechless, still and silent as statues, long wide stares between infrequent blinks as their mouths hung open.

“That-” Scootaloo finally said, sounding unsure of herself. “That was intense.”

“Yeah,” Apple Bloom murmured. “I- yeah.”

“Wait,” Sweetie broke from her stare. “You’re from Firtree, that’s in northern Griffonia! How’d you end up in Equestria?”

Grim scoffed, “I ask myself the same bloody question every night! Though if you have to know, my family all thought I was destined for something more than sitting in the woods after showing off all that magical talent. Most mages, including unicorns, need to use ritual magic to resurrect somepony, the whole thing was a pretty big deal. So once I was old enough I set off north to- to…” she paused, her eyes staring into the middle distance for a moment. She looked back at the fillies. “Let’s just say it’s a long story and leave it there, aye?”

A door flung open. “I’m back!” came the voice of Sol Nightshade. “And look who I found while I was out!”

“Hello!” said the thestral mare waving by Sol’s side. Exceedingly short, dark silver coat and long silver mane (tied into a bun, of course), wearing a form-fitting blue uniform with silver accenting. Everypony recognised her instantly.

“Warmaster Selenite?” Grim and the Crusaders said in sync.

Apple Bloom shot to her hooves, her brow furrowed. “You!?” she snarled. “Why in the applebuckin’ name’a hay did you bring her here?”

“Hey,” Sol cast Apple Bloom a glare as he put a foreleg around Selenite. “That’s my wife you’re talking to.”

“Huh?” the fillies gasped in unison.

“Hold on,” Sweetie rubbed her temple. “The ‘Selenite’ in that smelly guy’s story was the Warmaster Selenite?”

“Smelly guy?” Selenite raised an eyebrow. “You don’t mean P-”

“Holy cow, pleasure to meet you, Warmaster!” Scootaloo leaped off the sofa and trotted up to Selenite.

Selenite smiled. “Nice to meet you too-”

“Are you kiddin’ me?” Apple Bloom shouted, causing Scootaloo to skid to a stop. “You actually like this- this- tyrant!?”

A cacophony of various voices all speaking at once followed Apple Bloom’s insult.

“What? Pfft, that’s ridiculous!” from Scootaloo.

“Woah, that’s harsh!” from Sweetie.

“That’s my wife,” from Sol.

“Hohoh! This kid’s brave!” smirked Grim.

“Hey, I’m right here you know,” from Selenite herself.

Scoffing, Apple Bloom forced a single laugh out. “Harsh? Heh, harsh? How’s putting my sister in prison for ‘harsh’? How’s stealing the farm that’s been the pride of our family for decades for ‘harsh’? How’s trampling on our whole way of life for ‘harsh’?”

“Like she’s personally responsible for every bad thing that happens in Equestria!” Scootaloo turned around and walked towards Apple Bloom.

“Oh come on, she’s responsible for every last sunblasted bit of it!” Apple Bloom spat back, throwing an accusatory point at Selenite. “She’s Nightmare Moon’s right-hoof-mare! Her number-one minion! Her evil accomplice!”

Scootaloo leaned up towards Apple Bloom. “Not everypony in the army is a bad pony! Most just want to protect and strengthen Equestria!”

“She is the Warmaster! Top dog in Nightmare Moon’s whole rogues' gallery!” Apple Bloom retorted. “She’s the worst of the wor- Hey, Scoots, why ya defendin’ this no-good lunatic after everythin’ she’s done?”

“Because out of all the ponies close to Nightmare Moon, she’s one of the better ones!” Scootaloo replied. “Rainbow Dash told me so, and she’s actually been in the Lunar Guard! I think she’d know-”

“Seriously now?” Apple Bloom leaned closer, her eyes narrowing as her and Scootaloo were practically touching muzzles. “Yer soundin’ like a lunatic yerself!”

“Girls!” Sweetie Belle leapt between her two friends, separating them. Panting out heavy breaths, she exchanged quick looks with her two rowing friends. “Please, for goodness sakes, just calm, the heck, down. Okay?” a pause, ensuring her friends had heeded her words. “Okay.”

Ever since Nightmare Moon ascended to the throne, Sweetie Belle had been desperately trying to keep politics out of her friends’ relationship to middling success. Easy enough when they were younger fillies, but it was becoming harder and harder as they grew into opinionated, argumentative adolescents. Each of them had a different experience with the new regime which had moulded their perception of it.

Apple Bloom sighed. “Look, I just-”

“Drop it,” Sweetie said.

Scootaloo put a hoof forward. “Are we really-”

“Drop it!” Sweetie demanded.

“Can’t I just say I miss my dang sister!?” Apple Bloom yelled, then she sighed as her friends went silent too.

It had already been years since Applejack had been locked up for resisting the nationalisation of their family farm, with their meeting now reduced to weekly prison visits. In a way, Apple Bloom was glad her sister wasn’t around to see what was being done to the nationalised farm, the name “Sweet Apple Acres” being just about the only thing that hadn’t changed for the worse. The lunatics even started growing strawberries on their land, strawberries!

Biting her lip, Scootaloo crawled up onto the sofa and put a leg around Apple Bloom. “Sorry, AB, I know it's hard being separated from your family. I hope your sister gets out soon,” she said.

Sincerely, at that. She knew the Apple family simply wasn’t complete without Applejack and saw how her absence hurt her friend. But when it came to her desire to join the Imperial Foal Scouts, her awe of the Shadowbolts, and her admiration of the Lunar soldiers who’d held back and defeated the Everfree monsters, Queen Chrysalis, King Sombra, the Storm King… Well, she tried to keep those thoughts to herself.

Right in the middle was Sweetie Belle. Her curious position had left her ambivalent towards Nightmare Moon. Her parents lauded the economic growth of the last eight years, yet her sister’s business teetered on the brink in the face of new competition. Monster attacks from the Everfree were no longer a concern, arguably at the expense of her own liberty. Countless friendly thestrals had moved into town, but scarily armoured Night Guards patrolled the streets constantly. With so many conflicting thoughts, she often wondered how much easier it would be to declare an ideological allegiance and shut out anything that contradicted it.

Just as quickly as it had flared up, the tension between the three fillies had subsided, and they shared a smile. Moments later, Sweetie's ears spun towards a far-off part of the room. Selenite was speaking with Grim in a hushed tone that was difficult to hear. As Sweetie turned her head to look, the other two followed her eyes.

They only heard vague, hushed snippets of Selenite’s voice. “Ponies really aren’t meant to know…” which fell into an indistinct murmur. “If you’re in a public place like this…” which too faded from earshot. "A lot of ponies would scream for blood if they knew…" which caused Sweetie to flinch a little, until it too became inaudible.

Suddenly, Sol crashed onto the sofa with the fillies, pulling their attention towards him. “Yo,” he said, lazily lying back.

“Hey again!” Scootaloo smiled.

“Howdy,” Apple Bloom sheepishly waved. "Hey, uh, just so you know ah don't hate you for bein' in the Army or nothin', I don't got a problem with ya-"

“Just my wife you have a problem with?” Sol said assertively with a glare.

Feeling her face sink, Apple Bloom’s eyes danced around the room. “Uhh-” she stammered.

Sol snickered and made a ‘calm down’ gesture with his hoof. “No, I get it, kinda. I’m not brave enough for politics myself and, well, I’m sure the Empire has to do all sorts of nasty stuff, but out of all the ponies who could be Warmaster, I’m glad it’s her,” he explained. “Not that I’m biased or anything,” he said with a sarcastic smirk.

In the corner of her eye, Sweetie spotted the mysterious book on the table being wrapped in a golden arcane aura, then she watched it be whisked away by Grim who was hastily scurrying out of the room. Just before Sweetie was about to point this out to the other ponies, Selenite sat next to her husband. Even with five ponies on the same sofa each of them had plenty of room to themselves, even discounting their small figures.

“What was up with her?” Sweetie said, referring to Grim.

Selenite snuggled up to Sol as he put a leg around her. “Miss Star had business elsewhere. Did she tell you anything before we got here?”

“You mean Polar?” Sweetie said, still unaware of her true name. “Uhh, no, not really. We heard her mumbling about that book, she called us stupid, and because we asked she told us how she got her cutie mark.”

“Ah good,” Selenite said, becoming a little less tense. “Well-”

“Ooh! OOH! Warmaster!” Scootaloo shot up and exclaimed, which surprised Selenite and irritated Apple Bloom. “Warmaster, how did you get your cutie mark?”

“Prolly by killin’ somepony,” Apple Bloom murmured, glancing to the side.

Selenite giggled. “Nothing of the sort! I’ll happily tell you my story.”

“Aw sweet, really?” said Scootaloo.

Selenite grinned earnestly. “Of course, for it is an inspiring story! A tale of heroism in the face of daunting odds, of standing by your principles no matter what, and a demonstration of what young inspired ponies can accomplish when guided by their faith and determination!”

Sweetie leaned in with a hoof to her chin. Scootaloo’s eyes and grin went wide and her wings flapped frantically. Apple Bloom crossed her hooves and quietly scoffed, her eyes rolling.

“Cast yourselves back thirteen years ago, to an Equestria banished to memory…”

6 - Selenite, Part I

Author's Note

Content warnings for this chapter: Profanity, fictional racism, and uhh that's about it honestly

6 - Selenite, Part I

4:32 - 22/03/995 - Fledermaus High School

I really wished it hadn't come to this.

As the students throughout the school's many corridors and hallways collected their things from their lockers and made their way outside, either flying or walking or catching a bus, I was standing outside Principal Electric's office. Not due to being called there, I hadn’t been. I was there by choice. I’d have rather been anywhere else, but this was all I had left with all other civil avenues exhausted.

Getting home after all the buses had left wasn’t my worry, home was within flying distance and I frequently stayed at school after the final bell for history club or for a nice quiet environment to get some homework done quickly. Having an empty classroom to myself or being in the library when it was only me and similarly mannered ponies provided an unparalleled environment for proper studying. The school was amazingly accommodating for that sort of thing.

My worry was in the ways it had just become much less accommodating.

Once I’d gathered my courage, I firmly, yet carefully, knocked on the door.

“Come in!” came the jovial, youthful voice of Principal Mind Electric.

I pushed the door open and entered. “Hello, Mr Electric,” I said, closing the door behind me.

His office was inviting, and at first glance a pony would have a hard time believing a high school principal worked there. The walls were painted with abstract patterns in varying intensities of warm orange, the checkered carpet part teal and part blue. The space was assorted with trendy decorations, including movie posters on the wall and statuettes of board game pieces on the various surfaces. It was complete with a large window on the wall behind him, giving a wide-reaching view of the school’s yard below and the brilliant night sky above.

Upon hearing my voice, he stopped reading whatever he had on his desk and his glance shot towards me. “Selenite?” he said, eyes wide. “What do you need? Is this about the new rules?”

A pegasus managing a school where nine out of ten students were thestrals, he was a strange but likeable pony. Still in his mid-thirties, his rose-coloured coat and short magenta mane displayed few signs of age. Tonight he was dressed in typical smart-casual clothing, a simple beige sweater over a white shirt with a pair of glasses resting on his snout. His wardrobe was rarely severe, and he wasn’t above wearing a dorky bowtie a lot of the time. It was easy to tell he was passionate about his job simply from the way he carried himself on a night-to-night basis, often smiling and offering a helping hoof to students. A pony in authority who’d want to lend such a hoof is what I’d have needed.

“You already know it,” I said, climbing up onto a chair in front of his desk. “Need I go over my reasoning again?”

He smiled. “I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt.”

Inching closer, I put my hooves on the desk. “The new rule forbidding thestral students from tail hanging during school and the removal of hanging bars is discriminatory, prejudiced, and infringes on basic aspects of our way of life. Resting by tail hanging comes as naturally to us as sitting on clouds comes for pegasi or using magic to carry out common tasks comes for unicorns, both of which are allowed. The stated reason for this new rule is student safety, but there have been no more instances of this practice causing harm to a student or harm to school property as unicorn magic use or pegasus cloud sitting, not even accounting for the proportion of students of each tribe. Given these facts and without an alternative explanation that addresses our concerns, I and the vast majority of other students politely request that this policy be reversed.”

The whole time I spoke his eyes and ears were locked forwards, sitting still. It was like our roles had been reversed. Once I was done, he spoke. “Well Selenite, I believe you and the rest of the student council already lodged a formal complaint, and I'm doing everything I can behind the scenes to address your concerns. What else is there to say?”

Hearing him invoke the student council of all things made my fangs grind. I had a seat on the student council as the representative of my grade, secured as I had the support of the school's history club. The club, armed with the lessons from successful and failed election campaigns of yesteryear, made a concerted effort to promote me to our peers and even got me elected council president. But all the council really did was hold a meeting every Wednesnight during recess, and the most consequential thing we did in those meetings was organised the annual prom. Every decision we made had to be approved by school authorities, every meeting was closely monitored, and every topic of discussion was strictly narrow. Earlier in the year the council member representing a class in the grade above mine was removed when they stopped showing up to meetings, and their replacement was so unengaged they might as well have not shown up themselves.

Needless to say, a statement from the council opposing the EEA's new diktat amounted to jack squat.

“That was a week ago Mr Electric, and all we got back was the same nonsense about student safety,” I barely tried to hide the resentment in my voice. “They’re not listening to a word we have to say.”

“Their word is final, Selenite,” he sighed. “I’m doing all the work I can to make sure they hear what you’re saying, but I can only do so much.”

My jaw was tensing, and I huffed out heavy breaths through my nostrils. “Could you tell me what you mean by ‘working behind the scenes’, Mr Electric?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not allowed to share that with a student,” he said.

“Well, from my perspective, I’m not seeing any results from your ‘work behind the scenes’,” I said, folding my hooves. “So, please tell me. What am I not seeing? Otherwise I’m left to assume that this work you’re doing amounts to nothing.”

After that he went quiet and still. Any signs of warmth faded from his face, eyebrows sinking and lips straightening. His eyes moved to the desk, and the piece of paper under his forehooves. Slowly, he pushed the paper towards me. “This is a letter from Superintendent Neighsay, Selenite. I-” a pause, “I shouldn’t be letting you see this. As an employee of the EEA I’m bound by certain confidentiality arrangements, but as your educator I feel it’s only right that you read it.”

Cocking my eyebrow at Principal Electric, I dragged the paper closer and spun it around. I picked it up and started to read.

Principal Mind Electric

I understand that you and some of the other faculty have concerns regarding how the Fledermaus High School student body may receive the new policies. I am writing to tell you that your worries are well founded, which is precisely why it is of utmost importance that this policy be implemented to the letter.

While it is unfortunate that students and parents have rejected the explanation of the policies being for student safety, this is of little concern and doesn’t change the fact that this sort of policy is needed. Bats have long lived segregated from the rest of Equestrian society and still hold delusions of equality with the three tribes, what they do not realise is that unless they throw away their vile superstitions, learn their place, and accept Equestrian society for what it is they will never have a place amongst ponies of the three tribes.

This matter is especially urgent as the year 1000 draws closer, considering how the bat religion (which, bizarrely, your school has an adjacent temple to) alleges that this date will herald the return of their wicked goddess. There is a real danger that members of your student body will be radicalised into extremist action as a result. Assuring that this race is kept in check is a matter of utmost national security.

As educators, we have a duty to not only teach facts and information, but the proper way to live and act civilized. When your students are overwhelmingly bats infested with such a dangerous ideology, this applies in your case especially. Should you fail to implement an EEA directive, either through incompetence or intentional inaction, I will have no choice but to find a pony more suitable for your job. I’m sure there are countless other ponies who realise the threat of Nightmarism more than you do.

I will travel to Fledermaus High School this coming Friday, the 25th of this month. As you are still operating at night time I will come then, around 10pm. I expect to see this policy fully in force when I arrive.

Signed,
Superintendent Neighsay

My anger boiled over as I read the letter. Once done I threw the page back onto the desk, and all pretences of civil courteousness had dropped from my glowering face.

“Assuring that this race is kept in check?” I flared, still in disbelief that the language would be that brazen. “Infested with a dangerous ideology? And this pony is our Superintendent?”

"You see what kind of asshole I'm dealing with here?” he groused, running his hooves through his mane. “Excuse me, I shouldn’t swear.”

I’d fallen back into my seat a little when he swore; I’d never seen him that upset before. Quickly, I recomposed myself, straightening my tie. “Has it not occurred to the Superintendent that this sort of policy will only further alienate thestral students?”

He groaned. “I've tried telling him that, but he won’t listen. He is obsessed with controlling and regulating anything he doesn’t see as ‘proper’. And if I don't go along, he'll kick me out and replace me with some hoofpicked dogmatic psychopath! What am I even supposed to do?”

I couldn’t think of anything to say.

“I know this policy is bogus,” he said, burying his face in his hooves. “I don’t want any part of it. I can’t ever truly understand what it’s like to be a thestral in Equestria, but I’ve worked my whole career at this school trying to make things the best I can for thestral students, even if it means reorganising my entire life. Sure, changing to daytime classes might work for me, but they won’t work for you and the other thousand thestrals at this school, nor will this policy or anything else that the EEA-”

“What's this about daytime classes?” I asked, feeling myself become more tense.

“That-” he paused. His mouth opened and his eyes widened as his gaze turned to empty space, then put a hoof to his forehead. He turned back towards me. “They’re planning to do that at the start of the next academic year.”

“What!?” I practically jumped out of my seat.

“I had the same reaction you’re having now,” he groaned.

Running a hoof through my mane I stammered whilst trying to form a sentence, until I broke out ranting. “What- what the hell do they think they’re doing!? Do they have no shame!? There’s not a parent or student in town who’ll stand for this, we plan everything around the night! Have you been around town during the day? Do any of these EEA meddlers know anything about Fledermaus? Stars, what’s next, are they just going to fire every thestral teacher?”

His mouth tightened shut at that last comment.

“They’re not going to stop until they think they can lord over us as their puny subjects. And-” I glared at him, “and you’re just letting it all happen?”

His mouth finally opened. “I don’t like it, but I have to go along with it.”

“And what are you going to do Frinight, when he comes here?” I asked, pulling my seat closer.

“Ideally? Try to change his mind one last time,” he frowned. “Realistically? Pray I’m not replaced with a yespony.”

Feeling deflated, I released a frustrated breath. I realised I could argue with him for hours, but I knew nothing would come of it. “I suppose there’s nothing else to discuss then?”

He shrugged. “I’m afraid not, sorry.”

“Right.” Abruptly I hopped out of the chair and rushed to the door, choosing not to say anything else. I yanked the door open and got halfway through.

“Oh, Selenite?” he called. “One more thing. Close the door please.”

I stopped and turned back into the office. As requested I shut the door once I’d stepped inside.

“I know I can’t stop you from telling others what I’ve told you, but please try to leave me out of it,” he said politely. “I’m already in the EEA’s bad graces, and if they knew I’d shown a student a letter from Neighsay, I’m done.”

I made an indistinct murmur and half nodded, then made my way out.

4:48 - 22/03/995 - Berzel Family Residence, Fledermaus

Home was only a ten-minute fly from school, and flying was my preferred way of getting around. There wasn’t a single bit of level terrain anywhere in Fledermaus owing to the fact it was built high up on sharp uneven mountainsides. Walking through the town was quite literally full of ups and downs, times where you’d be struggling to ascend a steep slope and times where you’d barely keep your footing descending a similarly steep slope, all within a space of time so short you’d barely realise. Owing to the elevation, it wasn’t uncommon for a cloud to settle on the town itself and shroud the streets in thick fog, as was happening that night. It was considerably easier to find where you wanted to go by flying, at least without the fog.

Our home didn’t look like much from the outside, given that it was partly built into the rocky mountainside. Every house on the street appeared similar, like the front of a normal large house had been shoved into the stone wall. Yet this concealed the surprisingly spacious dugout home on the inside, practically an artificial cave system furnished for ordinary living with most of the walls keeping the natural grey exposed-stone appearance.

Using my key, I opened the front door and entered. “Mom, Dad, I'm home!” I called out, shrugging off my backpack.

“Hey kid!” I heard my father cheerily call from another room.

“Hello dear!” I came my mother’s voice from the kitchen. “Just making dinner!”

I quickly made my way through the landing and into the kitchen and saw my mother peeling a butternut squash. Then a thestral mare in her mid-forties who was coloured purple all over, Mom was short when put next to the average mare but still a good bit taller than I was. I had to reach up a bit to hug her, even when she leaned down. She was working on the large island at the centre, which held the stove, fancy ventilation fans, and a great deal of space for meal prep. We had a dining room for special occasions, but eating in the kitchen was just more efficient.

“Is Poca home?” I asked upon entering.

Nodding with an affirmative “mmhm”, Mom pointed to the door. “He went straight to bed when he got home. I don't even think he changed out of his uniform.”

I snickered. Anypony who knew my brother knew he wasn't one who cared about looking presentable. Or sounding presentable. Or smelling presentable. There had been times when he'd gone whole weeks without a change of clothes, and if ponies didn't know his sister was the filly who consistently wore her uniform spotless and tidy, they'd assume he was from a family of paupers.

“How did it go with Mr Electric?” Mom asked, discarding the peeled squash skin into the trash.

I groaned whilst climbing up onto a stool by the island. “He says he doesn’t like the changes but he has to go along with them.”

“That’s expected,” Mom said. She started carefully chopping the squash into small cubes.

“And it gets worse,” I said. “Next year they’re moving everypony to daytime classes.”

A startling thud sounded through the kitchen as Mom slammed her knife through the squash and into the cutting board. “That’s unexpected,” Mom said, her face still calm. “Getting that brazen, are they?”

“You don’t know the half of it! He showed me this awful, racist letter he got from the Superintendent, straight up says he'll be fired if he doesn't implement the new rules,” I explained.

“Superintendent Neighsay?” Mum asked, preparing to peel some turnips.

“Yeah, him,” I said. “Do you know him?”

Mom groaned. “Not personally, thank Nightmare. One of the worst Celestials there is. What’s Electric doing about it?”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “I believe him when he says he's working hard behind the scenes, honestly. But the EEA's word is final. What else can he do?”

Mom scoffed. “Mr Electric's nice and all, but just look at how he's dealt with all of this. It makes him look spineless and unprincipled, pardon the pun. If he had any backbone, he'd make every effort to resist the changes and actually try to keep us in the loop and work with us. Appeal all the way up, drag his hooves on implementing the policies, simply not enforce any of it, find and exploit loopholes, leverage how liked he is with staff and students, hell, go on strike if need be, the list goes on. I’ve brought this all up to him at PTA meetings, and all he says is that he’s ‘exploring those options’. You and I both know what that means.”

“Well, yeah, I know,” I said, “but the poor guy could get fired if he doesn't do what the EEA says.”

“He should be prepared for that,” Mom said, making a pointing motion with her empty hoof. “If he doesn't stand firm when the going gets tough, what does he even stand for?”

“But wouldn’t it be better to have a sympathetic principal who actually listens to us rather than an EEA-imposed psycho?” I suggested.

“Honestly?” Mom frowned. “I’d rather have to deal with one who’s obviously an enemy compared to a false friend. They’d implement the same policies at the end of the day, one’s just more brazen about it,” she explained, with subtle gestures to accompany her words. “Imagine a chimaera, something that’s obviously dangerous. Big, snarling, out for your blood and they make sure you know it. You see that, fight-or-flight kicks in. But compare that to a cockatrice. A cockatrice tries to trick you, hides in the bushes so you can’t see its body, makes you think it’s just a poor little chicken lost in the jungle, and by the time you realise what it really is you’re already half made of stone.”

“Right,” I said. Mom was always a fan of detailed metaphors. It’s certainly something that rubbed off onto me. “What do we do then?” I asked, worry seeping in.

“Metaphorically, don’t fall for its stare. But literally-” Mum stopped abruptly, almost literally biting her tongue. She held her breath and glanced off to the side. Some quiet moments passed. Turning her gaze back to me, she breathed out. She ceased her silence and spoke clearly and calmly, her voice never wavering or stammering. “Since going through Mr Electric or the PTA’s a dead end, you and every other thestral have to act on your own initiative or you’ll get nowhere. Make a demonstration of protest, of defiance, something. Show the EEA we can’t be held down and force them to back off. The student body is overwhelmingly thestral, you can reach out to them. They’re probably just as angry as you are. Most teachers are thestrals too, and I know they want to do something about this sh- rubbish, actually want to do something. One or two I see at the Lunar Temple say they might resign over it. Plus, I know there are plenty of non-thestral teachers and students at the school who’d happily join up as allies. Their hooves can be forced through a collective act of resilience, and at this point, it’s the only option.”

Something always fascinated me about the way Mom spoke in such a matter-of-fact and lucid way about things that seemed so ambitious, sometimes dogmatic. She was often like this when giving amateur sermons at the local Lunar temple every Moonnight, taking a hardline position or announcing a bold call-to-action and making it sound like regular common sense.

“Say, what was on that letter from Neighsay, specifically?” Mom leaned in close with an inquisitive eyebrow up. “Sounds like something worth knowing.”

I recited the letter to Mum. Even though I’d only read it once, I’d remembered enough of it in broad detail to properly convey all the relevant information. I especially remembered the horrible racist language Neighsay used to describe thestrals, which I made no effort to conceal or downplay.

While I spoke Mom remained still and calm, yet I noticed her fangs were showing. “What a bastard,” she said once I’d finished.

“You don't look surprised,” I noted.

She shrugged. “I'm not. Neighsay's one of the worst, been known for years. It doesn't surprise me at all that's how he writes in private. Of course, they’d put a frothing hardliner in charge of your school district, we’re some of the most devout Lunarists in Equestria. Bastards won’t stop until we’re crushed into dirt,” she grumbled, her eyes had gone down to the chopping board and her cutting hoof was idle. Suddenly she raised her head and looked right at me. “What was that part about the year 1000, again?”

I recalled that specific paragraph and summarised it. “That they want our ‘race kept in check’ for the year 1000 in case any of us are ‘radicalised into extremist action’.”

Mom’s eyebrows shot up and the frown faded. “Really?” she said, a smile slowly forming along with a small laugh. “They’re afraid,” she chuckled, putting her kitchen knife safely to one side.

“You think?” I leaned towards Mom.

“Oh yes,” Mom grinned. “They know she’s coming back, they know she’ll galvanise us and lead us to victory, and they’re scrambling to do something about it,” she said, giving me a tender look. “Come here,” she held her front hooves out.

I hopped out of the stool and walked around the island so we could embrace each other, allowing ourselves a few moments to savour our familial closeness. I held her tightly, she softly cuddled me. A joyous smile on my face, a delicate warmth on hers.

“You are so lucky, Selenite,” she whispered. “In the prime of your youth, you will witness Her return. Countless generations before you dreamed of living to see such a night. Never forget that. Never stop being grateful for being born at the time you were.”

“I know, Mom,” I whispered back, smiling.

She pulled me in closer. “And when that night comes, all who have wronged us will know Her vengeance.”

I nodded my head, holding Mom close.

We held the hug for a few moments longer. After releasing each other, we shared a warm and hopeful smile. “I'll see you at dinner,” she said. “I love you, Selenite.”

“Love you too, Mom,” I said.

Mom continued to prepare dinner and I took the time to get some homework out of the way. Little else happened in the morning. At some point, I ran into Dad strumming a pleasant, mellow tune on one of his guitars, and we had a brief conversation regarding much the same sort of things I’d talked about with Mom. He'd brought some public attention to the EEA policies utilising his notoriety as a well-known musician, but that didn't amount to much more than a few headlines in one or two national newspapers. Not enough to sway the EEA at any rate. Later at dinner, a hearty vegetable stew, Mom and I relayed what we’d discussed to Dad and Poca in more detail and we even managed to fire Poca up a little. After dinner, I burned through a few chapters of a book I’d had my nose deep in for the last few nights, Leather Petal’s Discret Dynasty in Decay: Buildup to the Aquileian Revolution 971-980. Diligently taking notes of every important detail, I wondered what I could apply to my current situation.

It was getting light outside before I knew it, Mom and Dad were setting off for bed once I’d finally decided to put the book down, and I made my way up. Brushed my teeth, took off my uniform, had a quick shower, put my pajamas on, and was off to bed.

But sleep seemed so distant from me. I lay in bed completely still, struggling to keep my eyes closed and finding little comfort. I’d turn over and try to find a more sleep-worthy position to no avail. Groaning, I sat up. Directly across from where I slept was my bedroom window, the curtains still open as I noticed a fiery orange threatening to engulf the night sky and snuff out the stars.

Yet framed nearly perfectly at the centre of the window, I saw the Moon in all its graceful glory. I gasped, I swear it felt like the Mare in the Moon was looking right at me from all those thousands of miles away like She was expecting something out of me as She was dragged closer towards the horizon.

I crawled out of bed and stood by the window, gazing back at Her with my mouth hanging open. My window provided a great view of the whole town, but my focus was solely on the Moon. She knew of our struggle, her lunar gaze saw all that went on in the night. She’d led us before and She’d lead us again. She was just waiting for the word, for one of Her loyal subjects to reach out to Her.

Deeply bowing, back raised and head low with my forehooves together, I whispered a prayer.

Mare in the Moon.

Hear our pleas.

As your loyal subjects, we ask for your guidance.

We ask for guidance as we face our wicked foes.

While you are banished from us physically,

You guide us in spirit and in our dreams.

We beg of you for strength and courage.

Just as you stand by us we stand ready for you.

The hour draws nearer every night,

May you come to us under a banner of triumph,

And may you wield a sword of righteous vengeance.

Our salvation lies with you.

In the cursed days where you remain imprisoned,

I will make you proud.

And on the blessed night of your great return,

I will make you proud.

Until the night there are no more foes to vanquish,

I will make you proud.

Satisfied, I got up and closed the curtains before I returned to bed, allowing myself to gently glide into Her magnificent dreamscape.

17:01 - 6/04/1008 - Lunar Castle, Everfree Forest

A door clicked open, and another pony entered.

“Rarity!” Sweetie exclaimed, leaping from the sofa.

All eyes turned to the open door and the white unicorn mare who'd just entered. Dressed in a night maid's uniform which consisted of a sleeveless midnight-purple tailcoat over a smart blue shirt with an upturned collar, fully complete as her silky-smooth purple mane was up in an extremely tight bun. Her sapphire eyes displayed a noticeable weariness behind their elegant beauty.

“Sweetie Belle darling!” Rarity held her forehooves out as her little sister ran up to her, and the two shared a warm hug. “So nice to see a friendly face at the end of the work night!” Rarity said as she released Sweetie.

“Heya!” Moonatik popped through the door, following Rarity. “Uh, I’m here too!” he said, before quietly shuffling into the background.

Rarity then looked to the other ponies in the room, and her eyes went wide. “Warmaster Selenite? Mr Nightshade? My, what an unexpected delight!”

Sol and Selenite returned kind greetings.

“The Warmaster was telling us her cutie mark story!” Scootaloo said, waving to Rarity. “Hey, uh, Sweetie, Rarity, could we stay a little longer while she finishes?”

Rarity gave a shrug. “I don’t see why not. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard her story before. Selenite darling, could you perhaps summarise so far?” she said, leaning towards Selenite with a smile.

“Of course”, Selenite smiled. “This was back when I was in high school, 995, and the EEA were planning on bringing in a bunch of new anti-thestral rules. Banning upside-down hanging, banning Lunarist worship, forcing us to have class in the day-”

“Mmchm,” Apple Bloom loudly cleared her throat, interrupting Selenite. Everyone turned to Apple Bloom, her eyes were locked forward in a manner to deliberately dodge contact with anypony else.

“Something wrong, Apple Bloom?” Rarity asked.

Quickly noticing how she had become the centre of attention, Apple Bloom brought her head up and tried to think of something to say. “No, it’s just- um,” Apple Bloom mumbled. A moment of silence, and she sucked in a deep breath. Suddenly she snapped around towards Selenite, a hoof pointed at the Warmaster. “You said ya didn’t like how the EEA were makin’ rules for bat ponies that forced ‘em to live like other ponies, that’s the whole point of your story,” she said hastily, but clearly. “Y’all we’re bein’ made to live in a way that didn’t- uh, vibe with ya tribe… right? A-and y’all thought that was unfair?”

Selenite smirked. “Yes. It’s more than just unfair to-”

“So why are y’all forcin’ us to live in this eternal night?”

Aside from Apple Bloom’s heavy breaths, the chamber fell deadly silent.

“Well, um,” Selenite began, shuffling on the spot. She bit her lip and glanced to the side, her smile fading. “It's- It's not really our call to make. The sky, the sun and the moon, that's the domain of the Empress. If she wishes to paint the heavens with stars, aurora, and nebula against a brilliant backdrop of omnipresent ebon at all times, that’s her call. I have no say over that.”

“Oh, that's horseapples!” Apple Bloom spat back, prompting gasps from her friends and furrowed eyebrows from the adults. “Yer still servin’ her! Yer still enforcin’ her orders! How can ya say it ain’t got nothin’ to do with ya?”

“The hell does horseapples mean?” Sol murmured to Rarity.

Showing no concerns with Apple Bloom’s comment, Selenite continued to speak calmly. “I stand by the Empress and serve her faithfully because of everything she’s done for us. In war, she has led us to victory over those who would’ve destroyed everything we hold dear. In peace, she has guided us kindly and fairly-”

“Kindly and fairly!” Apple Bloom repeated in a mocking tone. “Y’all think anypony’s gonna buy- uh?” she stopped as she felt something tug on her leg. Scootaloo had shuffled next to her and was trying to grab her attention.

“Hey, AB,” Scootaloo said, presenting her friend with a cold scowl. “I wanna hear the story, could you not?”

“Seriously?” Apple Bloom pushed Scootaloo’s hoof away.

“Besides,” said Selenite, “we’ve done nothing to outlaw traditional earth pony, pegasus, or unicorn ways of living. Nopony’s being forced to eat mangoes or live in caves! Sol, has the Empire done anything to you that's made your life as a unicorn harder?"

“Hm, not in any way I can think of,” Sol said. “I lived in Manehattan when the Empress came back, and I have to admit it was a lot easier for me and my family to find good paying jobs after the rebellion. Plus, joining the Lunar Army led me to discover who I am.”

Giving Sol a smirk, Selenite turned towards Scootaloo. “And you, what's your name?”

“Scootaloo, Warmaster!” she shouted, sharply sitting up straight.

“Scootaloo,” said Selenite, “has your life as a pegasus changed for the worse?”

“Uhhhh,” uttered Scootaloo in a protracted manner, her eyes darting from pony to pony before settling back on Selenite. “No, Warmaster?”

Rarity then stepped forwards. “Might I add, while I personally might not have received, hm,” she tugged at her uniform, “the best deal out of all this Lunar business, after I’d heard all about what Equestria's thestrals have been through it is only right that the rest of us give them a fair chance! Oh, and having some real competition in town is honestly quite thrilling!” Rarity said, her eyelids twitching as she put on a broad smile.

Selenite raised her head, smirking with pride. “Our actions might seem strange sometimes, but they are all important steps to building an Equestria where ponies of all tribes can thrive together. The long road of progress is bound to have a few bumps.”

Apple Bloom released a quiet grumble. “Sure,” she said whilst tilting her head back. A great deal of stubborn earnestness ran in the Apple family and Apple Bloom was yet another expression of that. She knew Selenite’s hollow assurances were just that, and could think of a dozen examples of how she had been forced to live a way alien to her. But with the deck stacked against her, she knew it best to keep her thoughts to herself, even if this was a unique opportunity to confront one of Nightmare Moon’s number-one minions.

“Warmaster!” Scootaloo hopped up. “Could you please carry on?”

“Ah yes!” Selenite giggled. “Where was I?”

7 - Selenite, Part II

20:45 - 22/03/995 - Fledermaus High School

I got about as much sleep as I could've got the day before, yet my dreams were illuminating. I'd set an early alarm; the sun was still out by the time I woke up. I wolfed down my breakfast in record time, rushed out the door and took to the skies before the crack of dusk.

School didn’t start properly until half past nine, but adjacent to the building was a small Lunar temple providing the students a place to pray and worship before a night of learning. It wouldn’t have surprised me if this place was next on the EEA’s chopping block.

The temple interior itself was a broad, open space, absent of any ostentatious decoration with simple and elegant utilitarianism given priority. Plain purple walls, comfortable prayer mats and seating cushions in neat rows on the floor, and empty holes on the ceiling that once held bars for tail-hanging. Fading sunlight reached through the thin, tall windows. A lectern, typically used by the currently absent Moonspeaker, stood before a shrine at the far end of the temple. Such designs often seemed drab, but in the early nights of Lunarism as a distinct faith, our ancestors had few materials to work with. An austere aesthetic became the norm, and quickly solidified itself as tradition.

Yet not even this place was free of Celestial interference, and EEA regulations forbade any overt symbols of reverence towards the Nightmare. For the shrine atop the altar it was common for devout Lunarists to place portraits or statuettes of Nightmare Moon, but we had to settle for a representation of Her lesser form, Princess Luna. Though, a large wooden relief of the crescent moon with thestral wings on the wall behind the shrine worked well enough as a representation of the Nightmare. It hadn't been sussed out yet.

There were about twenty-five ponies in the room. Most were students, some were staff. Most were in deep bows, some were sitting still. Most worshipped in silence, some whispered their prayers. Most were thestrals, some were of other tribes. But crucially, there was a single common characteristic that everypony shared, owing to the fact that they were in this temple at this time. They were all devout Lunarists.

On the left half of the room, I saw my friend Chocolate Honeycomb kneeling in prayer with her leathery wings tightly tucked on her sides. Jasmine coloured-coat, glossy brown mane, and an immaculate uniform. Her mane was fairly long, but you wouldn’t notice its length given it had been tied into an impossibly tight bun at the back. I’d known her for years as we’d been to primary school together and her mother shared my mother’s religious enthusiasm, plus her impressive knowledge of obscure points of Lunarist theology puts most Moonspeakers to shame.

I settled down on the mat next to her, after a few silent moments I lightly nudged her. “Psst, Choc.”

Her head bolted up. “Selenite? Can’t you see I’m praying?”

“Look,” I passed her a small hoof-written note. She took it, stared, then unfolded it and read what I’d written.

I need everypony’s attention. The EEA is planning on moving us to daytime classes.

I saw the note fall out of her hooves, her face frozen with her mouth hung open. “You’re joking,” she whispered, turning to me.

“I wish,” I whispered back. “Get the others, we’ve got to do something.”

I could see her looking at me and back at the note, until she gave an understanding nod. We stood up and went around the temple getting ponies attention as politely as possible and assembling them before the altar. With everypony assembled, they all displayed bemused looks on their faces, some literally scratching their heads. I recognised most of the ponies, friends and familiar faces at Lunarist gatherings, but two that stood out most were teachers. My old math teacher Mrs Mason Jarr and a science teacher named Copper Wire, both of whom were thestrals.

“What's this about, Selenite?” one pony asked.

“I'm sure you know that already,” I said, pointing to the space on the ceiling where the bars used to be. “But I'm afraid things might be about to get a whole lot worse unless we act quickly. I’m speaking to you here because you are all faithful Lunarists and I trust you, and I ask that you give me the same trust.”

The gathered ponies were looking at each other with expressions of fear, confusion, and worry. They followed with various rumbles of assent. Some, especially the teachers and older students, threw skeptical looks my way. “Go on then,” Mrs Jarr said.

“I have been informed by somepony responsible for school administration, who prefers to remain anonymous, that the EEA isn't going to stop at banning tail hanging,” I paused for emphasis, “but is also planning to move us all to daytime classes.”

At least eight ponies gasped at once.

“I'm sorry, what?” Mrs Jarr coughed. “Selenite, this sounds like an unfounded rumour, there’s no way-”

“Who told you about that?” Mr Wire asked, stepping forwards.

“Wait, it’s actually happening?” Mrs Jarr flinched, flabbergasted. “Why were you told and not me?”

“I wasn’t!” Mr Wire retorted. “I overheard Mind grumbling about it earlier this evening!”

“Woah woah, so they’re actually gonna do it?” a young student squealed.

“Ohh, stars,” a younger thestral groaned. “This is a damn sunstroke.”

The volume of the din was accelerating as chattering and gossiping turned to panicked shrieks and rumour peddling. “Ponies! Please!” I shouted. I'd quickly realised how much the situation had gotten out of hoof, which shouldn't have surprised me as my reaction to the news was much like theirs. Fortunately, my shout had caught their attention. “To panic now would be the doom of us all! Right now we need to assess the situation calmly and rationally, and think of a plan.”

“Plan?” Mrs Jarr winced with a hint of condescension in her voice. “Are you serious?”

“Of course I'm serious!” I asserted.

Choc leaned up to Mrs Jarr. “She's deadly serious,” she confirmed.

I continued speaking. “To begin, we need to share what we all know. About the EEA, about planned policies, about anything. Now, the same source I heard about the planned change from also told me that Superintendent Neighsay of the EEA, a detestable bigot who masterminded these policies, will be visiting Fledermaus High this Frinight at 10pm to ensure that his plans have been put into effect. Can you confirm this, Mr Wire or Mrs Jarr?”

A nod came from Mr Wire, followed by a groan from Mrs Jarr.

“Alright, what else do you know about it?” I said.

Mrs Jarr loudly sighed. “You know I can’t tell a student-”

“We’ve been told that Neighsay’s visit this Frinight will involve him and at least three other EEA ponies,” Mr Wire stepped forwards, speaking in his loud teaching voice. “The only classes they’ll be entering are ones where most students are secular, hoping to avoid disruptions and give Neighsay a good impression. He’ll meet with Principal Electric in his office first. You, Selenite, were considered to help show him around the school due to your student council position and exceptional grades but it was decided that he’d only be shown around by non-thestral staff, knowing his bigotries and your religious zeal. Authorities haven’t completely disposed of the ceiling bars, they’re being kept in school storage.”

“Copper!?” Mrs Jarr jumped.

“Look, Mason, she’s right, we need to do something about this, the EEA’s after all of us,” he said. “You think they're going to care about whether we're adults or foals?”

Mrs Jarr stared at Mr Wire silently for a few seconds, then she turned towards me with an exasperated sigh. “Well, I’ve been told that if any member of staff tries to protest against the changes or fails to enforce the policy in their classes, they risk being fired.”

“Told by who?” I asked.

Mrs Jarr was quiet. “The Principal,” she finally confirmed.

“Right. Does anypony have anything else to share?” I asked. Nothing but silence followed. “Okay, good. Then we’re all on the same page.”

“All on the same page of being completely screwed,” one older colt remarked. A whole barrage of comments ranging from sincere to snide in tone came from the assembled ponies.

“What are we gonna do?” a young filly trembled.

“Yeah Selenite,” sompony stepped forwards. “What do you actually want to do about all this?”

I waited for the hubbub to die down, then gave my answer. “I think it’s worth mentioning this before I go any further. Last day, I dreamt of myself amongst hundreds of thestrals, all of them thestrals I recognise from this school, most of you were there too. All of us were tail hanging and surrounding Superintendent Neighsay. He ordered us to get down, ordered us to act like real ponies, but not one of us obeyed. None of us even flinched. I don’t know if She was speaking to me directly or if this was a simple manifestation of the dreamscape, but I can’t help but feel that it’s a sign-”

“Ooh! Ooh!” a young colt perked up and waved. “I dreamed the same thing!”

An older filly waved. “Uh, I had that dream too? Is that normal?”

Mrs Jarr put a hoof to her mouth, eyebrows narrowing. “I think I had the same dream as well,” she murmured.

I smirked. “Then perhaps She is guiding us. In any case, I felt inspired by this dream. Like the way forward had been revealed to me, though perhaps it was revealed to all of us.”

“Where's this going?” somepony said with a tilt of the head.

“Bear with me,” I said, hoping to preempt a negative reaction. “This coming Frinight, when Neighsay shows up, we will have a chance to make a strong, resolute sign of protest and defiance, to announce to his face that the ponies of Fledermaus High won’t submit to his orders. How? When he arrives, every class stops. Everypony drops their work. Every thestral takes to the ceiling and tail hangs, student and staff alike! If there aren’t enough bars to hang from, take flight! Every non-thestral strikes in solidarity! Demonstrate beyond any shadow of a doubt that his repression isn’t welcome in Fledermaus, and continue to not hold a single class until the policy is reversed! Tell them firmly and clearly that all of Fledermaus High rejects their backwards bigotries, and that school will stop until they give in!”

I hadn’t noticed I’d dramatically raised my voice, but the stunned silent faces all before me certainly had.

“Selenite, I respect your enthusiasm,” Mrs Jarr finally spoke up. “But you’re asking us to all go on strike by the end of the week. We can’t do that on such short notice and especially not on the request of a student.”

“I’m speaking to you not as a student to a teacher, but as one faithful Lunarist to another!” I pronounced, dramatically flaring my wings. Mrs Jarr stepped back a bit in reaction, but I quickly calmed myself before I resumed speaking. “Besides you have a union, don’t you? You have a network behind you to support a strike, even if you don’t go through the union to initiate the strike, they’ll have no choice but to support a collective act from their members. They'd completely lose your trust otherwise, and a union is nothing without trust from its members.”

“Every thestral, though?” a different student said. “How are we gonna get them all on board before Frinight? Doesn’t this school have like, over a thousand kids?”

“By working our flanks off!” I asserted. “But right now we need each other's trust, even if we don’t adopt my framework. We need to use the time we have to come together and make a stand. Because either we fight back now, or we languish under their boot in the most important years of our lives.”

I’d finished, finally letting my voice rest. No cacophony of questions followed, just two-dozen pairs of eyes silently staring at me. I could hear my every breath as I eagerly anticipated a response. The thought of saying something else to top my speech off came to mind, but I worried that adding anything more may have devalued the finality of my last sentence.

“So, let me get this straight,” Choc stepped up to me. “You want to organise nearly the whole student body and enough of the teaching staff into a single coordinated protest action that will put the staff's jobs and the students' academic prospects at risk, while ensuring that we involve everypony who's sympathetic, convince enough ponies who are on the fence, and keep everypony opposed to us in the dark. You want that, and all done flawlessly in three nights.”

I swallowed. “Yes,” I affirmed.

Choc smirked at me with a chuckle. “Alright, I'm in.”

“Me too!” another filly chirped.

“We're with you, General Selenite!” an older colt leapt up and saluted. I didn’t know why at the time but being referred to as ‘General’ felt naturally right.

Mrs Jarr grumbled. “I can’t believe I’m being led by a student… I’m in.”

“I wouldn't rather be led by anypony else!” Mr Wire smiled at Mrs Jarr. “You bet I'm in.”

More cries of support followed, either by ponies raising their hooves, cheering, or simply saying that they were in. Not a single pony present dissented. Thus the first meeting of the All-School Organising Committee of Fledermaus High formally began.

22/03/995 to 25/03/995 - Fledermaus High School

On top of a normal school night and all the work that involved, I was tirelessly working between and during periods on reaching out to expand our ranks and ensure maximum participation in our protest.

The meeting of the All-School Organising Committee - my choice of name - that followed was fairly brief, as we only had so much time before school began later in the evening. We all agreed on my plan to “welcome” Neighsay with a striking school of tail hanging thestrals on Frinight, and we all agreed on what we should all do over the course of Tuesnight. Primarily what we’d be saying and to who in order to recruit as many ponies as possible.

Right after our meeting was adjourned, I went to seek the help of my friend Timetable. Mandys pink coat, palatinate purple mane, unicorn bat pony hybrid, and completely adorkable. She was never much of a Lunarist and had a broadly secular upbringing, but she had an unrivalled eye for detail, propensity for facts and figures, and was all too happy to help. When the committee convened again after school, I brought her along. Others brought their friends along too.

Choc was a member of the school’s music club, so it was her responsibility to get the students of the music club on board with our plan. By all reports she succeeded. That was the general framework for everyone on the committee, go to whoever they knew and trusted and convince them to join in.

In my case, I spent that night’s meeting with the school's history club, informing the members I trusted with what we had planned, successfully bringing the whole club on board. History obsessives tend to jump at the thought of making history themselves, so it wasn’t hard to convince them. Even the few non-thestral members of the club were enthusiastic.

When I told Mom about the plan that evening, she was ecstatic. She practically jumped into the air when I told her about all the progress we’d made in little more than a night, and she was more than happy to get more ponies on board and to spread the word amongst the staff who’d potentially help. I have to say, OPSEC is considerably easier when the organisational conversations and discussions aren't happening at the place we’re planning to protest against.

Even outside of school hours, we were doing what little bits of organisation we could. Stopping off at after school clubs, going to places that schoolkids frequently patronised, writing letters and brainstorming rhetoric. I could probably count the hours of sleep I got each day on my hooves.

I of course told Pocarona, moreso out of courtesy than out of an expectation for him to contribute. He wasn’t a terribly social pony and certainly not one for agitation or organisation. But, to my suprise, he'd gotten a whole ten ponies on board. Ten I hadn't even thought to reach out to until later, given their usual apathy. I couldn't even recall what Poca told me he told his acquaintances, it was incoherent and made heavy use of the words “based” and “cringe”, but hey, it worked!

Mr Wire spoke directly to his students, sure of their loyalty, about what we planned to do. He reported that most of them were on board, with only a few apathetic, and none dissenting. For the uninterested a strike meant a few extra days off school. Mrs Wire reported much the same result after Mr Wire convinced her to speak to her classes directly.

There was also an effort to reach out to the school’s maintenance staff. Groundskeepers, janitors, lunch staff and such. With knowledge of where the removed ceiling bars were being kept, their job was to reinstall as many bars as they could on the night of the strike, a task as simple as screwing them back into place. Fortunately, they were tremendously sympathetic to our cause as basically all of them were devout Lunarists and thestrals themselves. Another crucial recruitment successful.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly by the time of our meeting at the end of the school night. However, Mr Wire had raised a major problem.

There was a kid at our school named Green Pasture. A thestral colt, around my age, colours were about what you’d expect for a pony with that name, and quite frankly I did not know what his deal was. I still don’t know what his deal was. He was a thestral, his parents were thestrals and Lunarists, but somehow he ended up as a diehard worshipper of Celestia!

“Equestrian society will never accept us if we cling to some old hated usurper!” his argument went. “If thestrals want respect they should start acting like proper ponies!” and such. It stunned me how a thestral could find themselves echoing the rhetoric of a monster like Neighsay! Someone had asked him if he wanted in on the strike and he went to report it to the staff. By some stroke of luck the teacher he reported to was Mr Wire, who told him that he’d sort it out and that Green should keep quiet until then.

It served as a stark reminder that we needed to be more careful about security and discipline. If word got to the wrong ponies the whole thing could come crashing down. The students, including myself, faced being suspended and the teachers faced losing their jobs unless the whole thing went off without a hitch. We were in the paradoxical position where we needed to be loud to get the message out but be quiet to stop the wrong ponies hearing it.

I’m not proud of what we did next. Okay, maybe a little proud.

Obviously, a teacher couldn’t threaten disciplinary action against a student for following school rules and reporting a planned act of disruption and disobedience. What we proposed instead was a parallel structure of enforcement and, to put it bluntly, intimidation to ensure no leaks and discipline amongst our ranks.

I found some tough, older kids who were all big fans of the sort of heavy music my Dad used to make and made them an offer they couldn’t refuse: Be our enforcers and you can have all the signed merchandise from any member of his band that you’d ever want. I came prepared with some signed posters as a welcoming bonus of sorts. They were already in on the plan as far as I knew, one of them was in the music club with Choc and they’d managed to tacitly recruit the rest, but this well and truly brought them from potential protestors to enthusiastic enforcers.

We also needed a list of every student who might potentially be a leaker or a snitch. Blacklist them so nobody on our committee would reveal a morsel of information to them. Thank Nightmare I was the queen of collecting lists and already knew who in the school couldn’t be trusted with the details of the plan. Green Pasture was just one of many. In the span of one meeting, every potential troublemaker was known and named, and I had the honour of delivering that list to the enforcers.

To tell the truth, I don’t know what exactly the enforcers did to keep the potential snitches in check. The only explicit instruction I gave them was to subtly suggest that teachers deep within the plan, such as Mr Wire, could be turned to for help as to ensure any reports would wind up in the hooves of our committee. The few times I saw the potential snitches, Green Pasture included, they seemed physically unharmed but terribly frightened. I felt guilty in a way, but if enabling a small amount of personal bullying was necessary to stop the EEA’s plan for institutional bullying, then the choice was obvious. These means were absolutely justified by the end, I was certain of it.

As for ensuring discipline amongst ourselves, we double-checked each other’s progress over the course of the three nights, making sure that no one pony was ever the only source of affirmation. In fact, we made sure we didn't break any of the new rules to keep suspicion as low as possible. The only ponies who underperformed were students in their last year of school, the sort of ponies currently hyper-focused on studying for their final exams who wouldn’t have to endure daytime classes themselves. It was understandable that they didn’t commit that much time or effort to the plan, but that just meant the rest of us had to work extra hard to ensure adherence to the plan amongst those ponies.

Broadly, we made astonishing progress over three nights. We didn’t bring every last pony on board with the plan, but a supermajority of both students and staff were in. The committee met one last time Frinight evening, around an hour before Neighsay's arrival. We went over every last detail of the plan and made absolutely certain that the ponies each of us we were responsible for were going to join in.

The stage was set, and the play could begin.

22:00 - 25/03/995 - Fledermaus High School

Equestrian Class had begun as normal at half nine, everything in school was supposed to appear exactly as it should’ve been until the moment of action, lest we raise undue suspicion. The vast majority of students in the class including our teacher, Ms Goodall, were in on the plan with the rest either unaware or apathetic. Both Timetable and Choc were in this class too. We were supposed to spend the lesson continuing our reading and literary analysis of Lord Of The Horseflies, but from the moment everypony sat down it was obvious where our minds were.

“Alright, my little ponies,” Ms Goodall said to open the lesson. Her eyes moved around the classroom, but they frequently settled on me specifically. "I'm sure we all know what's happening at ten, and we're all very eager and probably a bit anxious, but we still have a lesson to do until then. Get your workbooks out and open your copy of Lord Of The Horseflies to page eighty-nine.”

Despite her assurances, she couldn't stop herself from constantly looking up at the clock as the hooves slowly drew closer to ten. Everypony noticed it, and everypony matched it. I continued to do my schoolwork, most were probably only pretending to do it, just in case anypony from the outside entered. It was far too late to slip up.

Five to ten. Any pretence of the lesson that was supposed to be happening had been dropped. I heard small snippets of conversation from the few ponies who weren’t in the loop asking what was going on to nopony in particular. Somepony whispered that school stops at ten and they should stay calm until then. A marvellously vague assurance, but it seemed to work.

Two to ten. I was going over what I wanted to say to Neighsay in my head, muttering little pieces of it under my breath.

One to ten. All eyes on the clock. The classroom, no, the whole school was silent. Only the ticking of the clock and the occasional shuddering breath could be heard. All of us were frozen in place, ready to leap into action

Ten o’clock. The silence was banished so quickly I didn’t even hear the clock tick.

“To the Principal's office, everypony, now!” I barked.

Before I'd even finished speaking, everypony was out of their seats and rushing to the exit. Ms Goodall herself leapt into action to hold the door open, imploring us to move quickly yet carefully and exit one at a time. But nothing could've slowed the veritable stampede of more than two dozen galloping fillies thundering through the doors and corridors. Already the halls were overflowing with ponies flooding out of classrooms and to their places, some already leaping to the ceiling and finding things to hang off of. Such avid eagerness was commendable.

“Ohh it’s happening!” I heard one colt shout over the noise. “Oh Moon it’s happening!”

It wasn’t long until we were in the hall outside Mr Electric’s office. A few other ponies not from our class were there, Mr Wire and the school’s Janitor Mrs Wishy Washy among them. We’d already figured out where everypony would hang. Timetable lacked wings and was thus groundbound; she and around a dozen non-thestrals nonetheless participated by protesting from the ground.

“Well Mind, you are an odd fellow,” we heard Neighsay's voice approaching from the reception. Everypony turned towards the door. His hoofsteps got nearer with every second. I subconsciously held my breath.

The doors to the hall opened. Mr Electric entered, Neighsay and his entourage in tow. “But I have to say, you st- SWEET CELESTIA!”

Neighsay nearly fell over. Mr Electric froze. His entourage, three ponies all dressed in EEA robes, gasped. Yet the lot of us were motionless, our eyes fiercely staring down on the old, white unicorn stallion and the other ponies around him.

“Electric!” Neighsay barked. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I-I-I don't understand, Superintendent,” Mr Electric stammered. “They're supposed to be in class-”

“Superintendent Neighsay! Ponies of the EEA!” I cut him off with a yell, as much force in my voice as I could muster. “We the students and staff of Fledermaus High reject your bigoted new policies and demand their immediate reversal!”

“Try as you might, you will never be able to prohibit what makes a thestral a thestral!” Mrs Washy announced. “Instead, we defy your rules in protest! All throughout the school you will find the same thing!”

“As long as these rules remain on the books, not a single class will be held in this school!” shouted Ms Goodall. “Students and staff alike, we are now on strike!”

“The choice is now yours!” Choc declared. “Allow the rains of justice and harmony to fall where they may, or be swept away in an unstoppable tsunami of rebellion!”

The EEA ponies stood still, their jaws hanging low and eyes staring wide. “Do you honestly expect us to be moved by this?” Neighsay chortled.

Then, somepony yelled “EEA, go away!”

I don't even remember who it was, I didn't recognise their voice at the time and couldn’t recall it since. Then somepony else shouted the same thing. Then another pony. Then Choc. Then the Janitor. Then me. Then everypony in the hall was chanting in unison, “EEA, go away! EEA, go away! EEA, go away!”

“Who is the ringleader of this? Tell me!” Neighsay ordered, stomping a hoof into the ground.

“EEA, go away!”

“Do you want this school to lose EEA accreditation?” Neighsay shouted.

“EEA, go away!”

“Stop it!” Neighsay cried, eyes practically bulging out of his head.

“EEA, go away!”

“Neighsay!” Mr Electric grabbed Neighsay and pulled him to the side, “into my office, quickly.”

With Mr Electric in the lead, the five ponies carefully but swiftly rushed through the hall and towards Mr Electric’s office, avoiding bumping into any of us. We kept chanting, not wavering in volume or in unity, with the EEA ponies flinching with every chant. Mr Electric pulled his office door open, ushered the EEA ponies through, then slammed it shut as he entered.

Then Mr Electric roared. “Don’t you get it now you stupid fucking bastard?” he shouted, presumably at Neighsay. Most of us stopped chanting, stunned by the shock of hearing him curse so loud. Already the centre of noise had moved from the hall to the office, as a shouting match commenced between Mr Electric and Neighsay.

Owing to my thestral hearing, I could make out the louder bursts of their argument.

First some light rumbling, then Neighsay’s voice boomed. “This is exactly why we need a firm hoof to civilise these creatures!”

“What do you expect me to do, Superintendent?” Mr Electric countered. “Do you want me to drag them down by force?"

“Are you talking back to me, Principal?” Neighsay spat.

“Don't talk to me like I'm a foal, Superintendent!” Mr Electric shouted. “You and I both know these policies won't work! All you’re doing is antagonising them! What do you even want out of this?”

“What I want is an Equestria cleansed of the stain of Nightmarism before it's too late!” Neighsay yelled. I heard him stomp to punctuate.

“And you think treating every thestral under your jurisdiction like an animal is going to help?” Mr Electric countered.

I didn’t hear a word out of Neighsay.

“Well? Do you?” Mr Electric said. Several moments of , broken only by a resigned groan from Neighsay.

The door flew open and out came Neighsay, averting his eyes from the lot of us. We resumed chanting, loud as we could, stoking fear into the EEA ponies. Mr Electric did his best to follow them, making little motions with his hooves signalling for us to quiet down. Few of us paid him any heed, and our chants continued.

Once the EEA ponies were through the door into the reception, Mr Electric turned to us. “As long as I’m in charge none of you will be punished for this. Good night,” he said hastily, somehow rising over the sound of the continuing chants. He then followed Neighsay through to the reception and out of the school.

Through sheer momentum the chant continued, until it became clear that there was nobody to chant to, and we slowly quieted down. I was full of energy, like , it wasn’t until a moment had passed for my mind to clear that I felt something different about my flank, an arcane presence had made itself known. My eyes snapped around and I looked at my behind. I gasped and nearly fell from the ceiling as I saw what was there.

A cutie mark. My cutie mark. A light teal square beneath a crossed purple pencil, and a pitch black crescent moon at the centre. The personal achievement elated me, but my mind was abuzz for what this meant for the school ponies as a whole. Whatever divine influence gave ponies their cutie marks had noticed our struggle, and given us this sign of success, of true meaning.

“Selly, what happened?” Timetable galloped up to me, her eyes wide and a smile growing on her lips.

I turned to her, wide smile splitting my countenance as I barely held back a euphoric laugh.

“I think we won.”

17:07 - 6/04/1008 - Lunar Castle, Everfree Forest

“Turns out, we had. Word spread to other thestral schools in the district and there was talk of similar demonstrations happening at those schools. Rather than fight a protracted battle with teachers and students alike, the EEA gave in after a few nights and the policy was finally reversed. Spent the rest of my school years as anyone should. My humble side tells me that the announcement of the teachers’ strike had more to do with it than student protests, but, hey! Getting the cutie mark had to mean something!” Selenite finished with a giggle.

As if on cue, the door swung open again. “We’re back!” Carte announced, prancing into the room.

“We’re so back!” a sweat-drenched Poca followed up, an impossibly wide grin on his face.

Her eyes wide as dishplates and ears on end, Rarity spun around to the new entrants. “Carte Blanche!?” she squealed.

“Miss Rarity, darling,” Carte flirted with a wink and a smirk.

“We should probably get going, now,” Rarity hastily whispered to Sweetie Belle.

“Ah, Mr. Blanche. My office at twenty-to,” Selenite said abruptly.

Carte flicked his hair back. “Of course, darling Warmaster,” he said.

“And… Poca?” Selenite said with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, uh, hi, I’m here,” Poca mumbled. “Look, uh, I got some work here over the coming nights, need a place to crash, that fine with you?”

“Uhh, okay?” Selenite said. “You really don’t need to ask me for that, government employees are entitled to local lodging, just go to a clerk and they’ll set you up with a place.

“Pft, yeah, well,” Poca looked from side to side whilst shuffling on his hooves. “Just, rather ask you directly, y’know, bureaucracy’s confusing, and stuff.”

“Hey, I got a flat here! You can stay at mine!” Moonatik waved, reminding everyone he was there. Poca returned a thankful smile.

Scootaloo glanced around the room. “Hey, everypony’s here! Except Polar, hmm. Wonder where she got to.”

“Hey, you know, I’ve sorta picked up on something tonight,” Sweetie said, catching everyone’s notice. “The cutie marks themselves weren’t really what was important to most of your stories. Carte and Polar said they didn’t even notice they’d got them when they did. What really mattered was what you did and what you learned about yourselves in the process of getting them!”

“Heh,” Sol smirked. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Carte shrugged. “Sure, something like that.”

“I guess you're just happy that the last story had nopony getting hurt, ey Apple Bloom?” Scootaloo remarked.

“Say,” Apple Bloom coughed, “Selenite,” she waved to Selenite. “Great story and all, mighty, hmm, inspirin’. But, uh, what happened to that Superintendent Neighsay feller? Did he just leave?”

“Oh, yeah, him,” Selenite said. She glanced at Carte who returned a devious smirk, then she looked back to Apple Bloom. “Neighsay's dead.”

Apple Bloom’s jaw dropped. “...what!?”

“Became Chancellor of the EEA a year or two after the Thestral strike happened, during the Lunar Revolution he fled to Puerto Caballo with all the other Solarist cowards and became a member of the ruling junta. But just a few weeks into our operation to retake the islands, he was confirmed KIA whilst trying to escape abroad,” Selenite said. Her lips were curling upwards slightly, but she quickly straightened her lips and eyebrows. “It’s kind of a shame he wasn’t captured alive and never faced trial for his-”

“Are you freakin’ kiddin’ me!?” Apple Bloom exploded. “What is wrong with y’all? Every single story has had somepony gettin’ hurt or killed or been told in the most hog wild way possible! Y’all ain’t just messed up, y’all are horseshoe slingin’ psychos!”

Rarity frantically made gestures at Apple Bloom, begging her to quiet down, noticing the assembled ponies had been stunned into silence. “Now really isn’t the time for this darling,” she said, sweating bullets.

“And this, this goes for all’a y’all! Y’all are murderers! At the absolute best accomplices to murderers!” Apple Bloom accused. She put a hoof to her forehead. “I swear to Celestia what has Equestria come to-”

“OH Apple Bloom, you’re such a joker!” Rarity yelled, magically seizing all three fillies by the tail and dragging them to the nearest open door, ignoring their protests. “It was lovely to chat but oh my goodness look at the time got to go bye!” and she slammed the door behind her.

Everypony stood in silence for a few moments. Carte then snorted. “Well, she seemed raring to go.”

8 - Epilogue

17:19 - 6/04/1008 - Everfree Forest

Had ponies from ten years ago been told there would be a safe, functional, regular train service that ran through the Everfree Forest, they’d have laughed it off and not given it a second thought. Had those same ponies been told this train service took ponies to the new centre of Equestrian government deep in the Everfree itself, they wouldn’t even honour it with a laugh.

Yet Rarity rode this service to work so many times she’d lost count.

Rarity, along with the three fillies, had a small few seats to themselves on a quiet, largely empty part of the train. Only two other ponies were in sight. The windows gave a view of the serpentine trees of the Everfree whizzing past, and the train’s interior was elaborately decorated with intricate silver designs on an immaculate purple backdrop. They’d been quiet since getting aboard, the pervasive mood being a desire for calm after Apple Bloom’s brief outburst upon hearing Neighsay’s fate. Scootaloo may have wanted to gush about having met the Warmaster, but understood it to be in poor taste.

It was Sweetie Belle who broke the silence. “What’s up with Carte Blanche?” Sweetie asked her sister. “You sounded like you knew him.”

Rarity scoffed. “Do I know him? Stars above do I know him, I wish I didn’t!” she ranted. “He’s a selfish marenizing pest! In every way, just the most despicable sort of pony! The sort that slides up to you, woos you with their wealth and their charm, only to ditch you as soon as they have what they wanted! Why anypony would want to honour him with an audience, let alone Selenite herself, boggles my mind! I swear some stallions-”

“Quick, change the subject!” Sweetie whispered to her friends as Rarity continued ranting.

“Hey Rarity I don’t think you ever told us about your time in the military!” Scootaloo hastily shouted with a wave.

“-an absolute swine in- Hm? Oh yes! I was in naval logistics,” Rarity said, the foul expression vanishing from her face. “Joined up when that horrendous hag Chrysalis attacked. I’d have had to join sooner or later, what with it being mandatory. Truth be told it wasn’t bad, even if it meant I couldn’t be there to run the boutique right as the competition moved in. Poor Sassy did as well as she could’ve given the circumstances. Oh, and no, I never saw combat. Most of the time I was sitting at a desk looking over reports.”

“Ah, okay, thank you for your service,” Scootaloo said, quieting down. “Nailed it,” she whispered.

“‘scuse me, Rarity,” Apple Bloom said. “Didya mean everythin’ ya said earlier? ‘bout givin’ bat ponies special treatment even if that means you’re gettin’ screwed?”

“Well, hm,” Rarity shuffled on the spot. “To a certain extent, yes. I don’t have to like everything that’s happened, but my heart truly does go out to all the poor thestrals in Equestria.”

“So, what,” Apple Bloom said, “ya don’t mind ya whole life bein’ turned topsy-turvy?”

“Of course I mind!” Rarity burst. Everyfilly flinched. “Three days a week! Three nights! I have to dress up like this, stuff my mane up, and perform menial mind-numbing drudgery for eight hours! Eight! And all the while I'm running a business all by myself and barely managing to pay the bills and struggling to keep up with the few orders I get and watching everypony else flock to the newcomer's boutique and as they're booming, I'm having to subject myself to Nightmare Moon's-” Rarity's whole face clenched up, the bright red flush visible under her pristine white coat. She forced out a long breath and untensed, before returning to sitting normally. “Apologies, darlings, such an outburst is unbecoming of me.”

Sweetie raised a hoof. “Uh, actually-”

“But,” Rarity sighed, “yes, I do mind. In a better world perhaps, one where thestrals were treated as proper ponies from the start, none of this would be happening and we wouldn't have to worry about any of this. No use dwelling on it though, what's done is done and we're left picking up the pieces.”

The four of them shared a brief silence, only the rumble of the carriage making a sound.

“It's strange,” Rarity mused as she stared out the window. “If I just sucked it up, closed down the boutique, found a nice apartment to live in and went full time at the Castle, I'd earn more than I ever did making dresses and be far more secure. But then I'd have no time for my true passions, and what sort of life is that?”

“It's the life most of us get!” somepony loudly grumbled.

Rarity and the fillies whipped their heads around to the source of the grumble. In a seat on the other side of the tram, a stocky red earth pony stallion was throwing Rarity a smirk. Saddlebags on his back and a thick tool belt around his waist, there was a noticeable scraggly beard across his face and little else in the way of hair on his head. A newspaper was resting in his hooves, which held his attention until he noticed the four pairs of eyes staring at him. “Oh sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear your big loud outburst. Tends to happen in public places,” he laughed.

“And you are?” Rarity cocked an eyebrow.

“Me? Name’s Chrome,” he said as he sat up and turned to face Rarity, putting the newspaper to one side. “Nopony special, just an electrician around Ponyville, sometimes at the castle. I know who you are though, Rarity, my wife got her wedding dress from you.”

“Oh?” Rarity’s eyebrow remained up, but the rest of her eyes widened. “What’s her name?”

“Aloe Charm,” Chrome said.

“Ah!” Rarity’s face lit up considerably. “Of course I remember Aloe! Lovely lady, hers was the Kirian style dress, wasn’t it? White with the golden piping?”

“That’s the one!” Chrome grinned.

Almost instantaneously, Sweetie looked at his cutie mark, which displayed a typewriter. “Huh, your cutie mark’s a typewriter. Are you like, a specialist at typewriter electricianing?”

A wheezing laugh broke out of Chrome for a split second. “Haha! No, sorry, definitely not. I got this when I was a colt. I found out I had a passion for writing, just loved making stories and sharing them with other ponies, even as I got older. Mind you this was, what, thirty years ago? Still love doing it now when I get the time. But, turns out there’s no money to be made in the sort of thing I like to write and nopony around town was hiring writers. Before I knew it, I’d been an electrician for twenty-five years!”

“I thought ponies got jobs that aligned with their cutie marks?” Scootaloo pondered.

“Most of the ponies I work with don’t,” he said. “My coworkers all have cutie marks like pencils, sewing needles, musical notes, cameras, or that one lad who's got an eagle. Not really what you’d think of when you think electrician, ey? Only one bloke has anything close to an ‘electrician’ cutie mark, a pegasus with a thunderbolt on their flank, but somehow I doubt that means he’s a good electrician.”

“Hey, you know, there’s something I remember reading a while ago in the paper,” a pegasus mare on the train, chimed into the conversation.

The other ponies turned to the pegasus mare with curious looks, seeing her dressed in a tight-fitting buttoned-up aquamarine shirt tucked into a black pencil skirt, oddly contrasting her light-yellow coat and copper mane which was tied up much like Rarity’s was.

She continued. “There was this survey done asking ponies if their job matched their cutie mark. You know how many answered either ‘doesn’t match my cutie mark’ or outright ‘contradicts my cutie mark’?” the mare paused for emphasis. “Seventy percent.”

“Seventy!?” all three Crusaders blurted out at once.

“Seventy,” Chrome exhaled. “I’d believe it.”

“Sometimes I envy blank flanks,” the mare sighed, a solemn look on her face. “Least they’re not going around with a permanent reminder of how far they are from their actual passions. With me?” she gestured to her flank. “I started wearing a skirt all the time so I wouldn’t have to see my cutie mark every time I passed a mirror. It’s just there, all the time, telling me my true calling is stage acting and not as a penpusher in the tax department. But hey! I guess Equestria needs tax officials more than it needs theatre actors!” she groaned.

Apple Bloom shrugged. “Hmph, yeah, just what Nightmare Moon’s nasty horrible Empire has done to good honest ponies,” she stated, smugly folding her hooves.

Only for her to be startled by sudden short laughs from Chrome and the pegasus mare.

“Ohh, kid I already told you I’ve been in this pit for twenty-five years,” Chrome said while he rubbed his head. “Way before Nightmare Moon came back, I’m just a lot busier now what with everypony’s lights being used all the time.”

“And before this, I was doing the exact same thing in Canterlot!” the pegasus mare seethed. “Oh yeah, don't move to Canterlot. Rent alone will ruin you.”

Apple Bloom looked like she was at a loss for words, head whipping from pony to pony as her mouth hung open.

Shrugging, Chrome shook his head. “When I really look at it some things are different, but most things aren’t that different,” he said whilst gazing at the floor. Only then, his voice took on a more hopeful tone and he raised his head. “If one thing’s stayed the same though, it’s that we can’t risk not looking out for our fellow pony. When the going gets tough we’ve nobody to turn to but each other, and trust me the going’s gonna get tough. Equestria might not always live up to the promise of harmony, but that’s just more reason why regular ponies should look out for each other. Magic of friendship and all that.”

Rarity nodded. “Hm. Yes, I’m inclined to agree.”

An ear-splitting beep sounded on the train’s speakers, the speed of the vehicle noticeably slowing as the surrounding forest got less dense. “You are now arriving at: Ponyville Edge,” came a neutral yet booming voice. “Please mind the gap when exiting the train.”

“Oh, well, this is our stop,” Rarity said, getting to her hooves with the Crusaders following suit. “Nice to see you all!” she waved.

“I get off here too,” said the pegasus, already standing. “My apartment’s in flying distance.”

“I’m further up,” Chrome said, settling back into his seat. “See you around, Rarity.”

Rarity smiled. “See you around, darlings.”

17:40 - 6/04/1008 - Lunar Castle, Everfree Forest

“Applejack.”

One phone call to the Ministry of Justice asking if anypony in the Ponyville Branch of the Apple family was in the prison system and if a copy of their dossier or dossiers may be delivered to the Warmaster's office. That was all it took, and no more than fifteen minutes later such a dossier was with her secretary and then on her desk. Had her mind not been bogged with thoughts regarding this particular mare and her encounter with their sister earlier that night, she'd feel great pride in the efficiency of the Lunar bureaucracy, its wheels greased by the extensive use of magic. Labyrinthine as it sometimes appeared to the common pony, when those bureaucrats were given clear instructions from their superiors, they delivered.

What she read about Applejack was interesting. It gave details of her crime, firing a gun at Lunar soldiers because her family farm was being nationalised, surrendered when the hammer was brought down. Nopony was killed or injured. Her sentence was eight years of corrective labour in prison, and so far she’d served it with dignity. No incidents with guards, was good at the work she was assigned, never got in fights, and got along well with the other prisoners. The dossier even included an excerpt from her plea.

You're accusing me of defending my family, my liberty and my property, ain't that so? If that's how it is, you’re damn right I plead guilty.

Selenite couldn’t help but respect her stubborn commitment to her cause and her family and her unshakable integrity. If this story were instead about a thestral from twenty years ago Selenite may have thought of them as a hero. Perhaps in another life they’d have been allies.

Whilst stroking her chin, Selenite looked up from the dossier and around her office, gazing at no specific point in particular. There were enough seats in the office for six ponies to hold a meeting, not counting the small leather chair of her own. Decorations were kept mostly simple and the furniture was utilitarian. There were just two paintings in the room, hung on opposite walls, one was of the Battle of Aghzat and another of Fledermaus at night. Her broad desk was meticulously organised, free from any clutter or any sentimental trinkets aside from a framed photo of Sol which had been taken at the tail end of his military career. There was one window to her left, overlooking a lush courtyard. She found that keeping a clear workspace helped her think with a clear head, and a lack of distracting decorations centred the focus of herself and any present colleagues on their work.

A buzz sounded through the office, ripping Selenite out of her thoughts. “Warmaster,” came the voice of her secretary, Timetable, through the intercom on her desk. “Night Eye Cygnus is here for his assignment.”

Selenite pressed a button on the intercom. “Very well, send him in.”

A few moments later, the door was flung open as Carte Blanche came strolling in. “Evening, darling Warmaster!” he waved, throwing himself onto a seat in front of Selenite’s desk. “Heh, those kids. Imagine how they’d have reacted if they knew what we really did with Neighsay.”

Selenite did little more than stare back. Carte was a good agent, Nightmare Moon hoofpicked him for the Night Eye program for a good reason, but his crass immaturity frequently grated on her. “Officially, Neighsay was killed trying to escape and that’s what we’re sticking with publicly. Try not to jeopardise that, Cygnus.”

“Yeah yeah, I know,” Carte smirked, flicking a hoof. “It’s hard not to brag about it whenever his name is brought up.”

Selenite opened a drawer in her desk. “Sure. Now, your assignment-”

“Y’know I kept him alive for five hours-”

“Your assignment, Cygnus,” Selenite interrupted. She threw a folder labelled 'CYGNUS 6/04/1008 - TOP SECRET' onto the desk. “You know the drill, everything you need to know is in here. Any questions, ask away.”

Carte’s eyes fell onto the desk, first onto the folder before scanning the neatly arranged documents across it. “I take it you were moved by that apple kid,” he said.

One of Selenite’s eyebrows twitched up. “Hm?”

“Couldn’t help but notice the dossier on your desk, for a convict named Applejack currently being held at Maretery Prison. I doubt it’s a coincidence that the list of her known relatives includes a sister named Apple Bloom,” he said, pointing to the dossier. His eyes went wide, scanning the page closer as he suppressed a snicker. “And deceased parents. How tragic.”

“You can read upside down?” Selenite pulled the dossier closer to her side of the desk.

“You can’t?” Carte smirked as he leaned back into his chair. “Probably isn’t just a sudden burst of curiosity completely overtaking you. Unless you expect me to believe that the ever-punctual Selenite, who has had my assignment ready and on the desk before I entered the room every single time before tonight, somehow lost track of time whilst reading some random pony’s dossier. Unless, by chance, your usual attitude has been rumbled by feelings of guilt.”

“Get to work,” she said, impatiently tapping the folder with Carte’s assignment.

Leaning forwards, Carte reached out and dragged the assignment towards him. “That we can do. But right now, I’m curious. What’s the matter? What did that kid say to you that’s left you so shaken?”

Selenite quietly sighed to herself. “Cygnus, you have a job to do, and it’s not as my therapist.”

“Well I think it’s important to understand what state of mind my boss is in, for my sake and yours,” he said, throwing her a cheeky grin. “So please, indulge me. No need for codenames either, I’m asking as a friendly colleague.”

Glaring at Carte, Selenite leaned back into her chair. “Okay, Carte,” she said, before bringing a deep breath in and out. “When Sol brought me into the room the earth pony kid, Apple Bloom, had an outburst of sorts, called me a tyrant and ‘Nightmare Moon’s number-one minion’. One of her friends, Scootaloo the pegasus, then started arguing with her with Scootaloo defending me and Bloom degrading me, heh, like I wasn’t even in the room,” she said. She released a light chuckle and her eyes went to the ceiling.

“But, anyway,” she continued, refocusing herself. “Bloom said she missed her sister, who was sent to prison years ago for firing at Lunar soldiers in some ill-fated stand against nationalisation. Once they’d calmed down the Scootaloo kid asked for my cutie mark story. Have I told you what happened before?”

“No, but stuff like that tends to travel fast. I was only a little kid at the time but a teachers and students’ strike for thestral rights organised by a fourteen-year-old made headlines in Lunarist newspapers from Vespagrad to Ayacachtli,” Carte said. “Believe it or not, you’ve made a name for yourself in the public eye, beyond just being the Warmaster.”

“Hm, alright,” Selenite said, a light smile appearing. “Well, I started to tell the story, but was interrupted halfway through when some other ponies came in. During the interruption, Bloom accused me of being a hypocrite for fighting against anti-thestral bigotry whilst supporting the eternal night. In the moment I was a little shook up, but it wasn’t anything I was unprepared for. I’d heard the argument before and knew how to respond, but given the circumstances of her elder sister and the fact I was hearing it so passionately from a child, it sorta stuck with me. Not to mention her outburst at the end. It’s clear that some ponies now feel the same way you and I did before the revolution, that society is unfairly stacked against them. I don't know if we can honestly call what we do ‘justice’ with that in mind.”

Carte had the same smirk on his face the whole time. “That it?” he said with an exaggerated eyebrow raise.

“More or less,” said Selenite.

“A bit late to be thinking about this, don’t you think?” he asked.

Feigning obliviousness, Selenite shrugged. “It's not even six o'clock yet.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Carte dismissed. “You've been Warmaster for nearly four years, you were one of the first ponies to pick up a rifle in support of the Empress when she returned, before that you were organising protests and writing books advocating your cause, even part of your cutie mark stands for devotion to Lunarism. After everything you’ve done and everything I’ve done on your orders, all the wars we’ve waged, all the governments we’ve otherthrown, all the enemies we’ve assassinated, wouldn’t it be best to be a little more sure of yourself? Sure, some dumb kid might be sad about her sister going to prison, but you know, bumps on the road of progress or whatever it is you like to say. Why should that matter? Why let that fog your mind and fill you with doubt? We’re large and in charge. Who cares what a bunch of whiny Sunnies say?”

Selenite felt herself flinch at what Carte said. She knew she did unsavoury things, and tried to refrain from taking pleasure in them. They were just means to an end. But she knew her attitude wasn’t universal and ponies like Carte revelled in it. His approval gave her more pause than any disapproval that Apple Bloom may have expressed.

“Truth is,” Carte said with an uncharacteristically earnest look. “You are Nightmare Moon’s number-one minion. You’re a damn good Warmaster, one of the greatest military and political minds Equestria has ever known and you’re not even thirty. Be proud of that. I know your mother’s proud of you for it.”

Who the hell does he think he is invoking my mother? Selenite thought, the beginnings of a scowl flashing on her face. It faded, as she realised that Carte was completely right to mention her mother. Her gaze fell to the desk, her mind going back to the many times her mother had instilled the values that led her where she was and how every time they’d met since the revolution her mother had been brimming with pride. Yet no matter how much reassurance she conjured up, all the contradictions and ambiguities of her position remained front and centre. What justice was there in locking a little filly’s sister up for something she’d have done in her situation? What order was there in warmongering across the globe and giving ponies like Carte a licence to kill? What progress was gained from allowing the slavers of Chiropterra to keep their prestigious positions, even if on a tight leash?

“With that out of the way, darling Warmaster,” Carte said whilst fluttering his eyelashes and opening his assignment, “I believe I have some minioning to do. Ooh, c'est en Aquilee! Heureusement que je pratique la langue.”

Selenite was quickly pulled from her thoughts. “Right. Yes,” she cleared her throat and sat up. “Our friends over there have by and large consolidated their new republic, but there’s still some Aquileian Royalist holdouts causing trouble…”

03:51 - 7/04/1008 - Lunar Castle, Everfree Forest

By the time Sol got back to the castle, Selenite was already in bed. Being married to the Warmaster meant Sol could coast for the rest of his life and be just fine, but he’d never be content in that. He worked odd jobs wherever he could find them, usually as a bouncer or as a gym instructor. While he was living at the Lunar Castle with Selenite, he had a job in Ponyville as a security consultant on a construction site. The work was fine, the pay was decent, but it kept him busy and that was enough.

“Hi hun, I’m back!” Sol said as he trotted in.

“Hey dear,” Selenite said back. “I’m in the bedroom. How was work?”

Despite Selenite’s status, her castle apartment was very basic. There were plenty of lavish apartments throughout the castle often built specifically for ponies like her, but she chose to have a smaller, more austere space. A single bedroom, a single bathroom, a single living room with no wall to separate it from the kitchen. Selenite and Sol needed nothing more and nothing less.

“The usual,” Sol said as he entered the bedroom, seeing Selenite in her pajamas and under the covers. “That kid was throwing inventory documents in the trash instead of shredding them, again.”

“Really?” Selenite laughed, turning towards Sol.

“Yup,” Sol sat on the bed and started to take his clothes off. After removing his tank-top, he stopped. “Why was Grim Fate in the castle earlier?” he asked.

Selenite tensed. “Hm?”

“I didn’t want to cause a fuss at the time so I kept it cool, but…” Sol turned to Selenite. “Why isn’t she in prison or something? After everything she’s done?”

“She…” Selenite said, her eyes wandering around the room until settling back on Sol. “She’s supposed to be in custody, I had a word with the ponies responsible earlier, they didn’t tell me why she wasn’t under anypony’s supervision, but anything more than that is classified. Actually, just telling you that is classified.”

“Right, right…” Sol said, his eyes turning away. After a quiet moment he looked back at Selenite. “Well, I know if something’s classified I probably shouldn’t press on it, but… Hey, did I ever tell you about Glacier?”

Selenite pushed herself up a bit. “I don’t think you did, no.”

Sol sat up. “Sergeant Glacier. Pony in my unit during the war against Sombra, one of the toughest ponies I’ve ever known. Had balls of steel, afraid of nothing. He’d saved my life more than once, at that. One time he silenced a machine gun nest on his own, ran as fast as he could straight up to it and took out the three ponies operating it. Madlad.”

“Hm, did you stay in touch after the war?” Selenite asked.

“No,” Sol said bluntly. “He was killed and enthralled by Grim Fate.”

Selenite’s jaw clenched shut. Her whole body went tense and she was quiet as a stopped clock.

“He was just one of thousands of ponies who suffered the same end,” Sol said. “I thought the piece of shit who did that to him would be dead or in jail, not walking around the castle. We fought that damn war for the sake of finding justice, and to me it looks like her victims aren’t getting any justice. So what gives? Because if I don’t know, then it’s left up to my imagination.”

Selenite lay in the bed quietly, her breaths becoming louder. After a few moments she sat up, glanced over her shoulder, then looked at Sol. “Sol, can I trust you?” she said.

“I hope so, it tends to come with being married,” he said whilst crossing his hooves.

“Because everything about Grim Fate is classified,” Selenite said, looking Sol in the eyes. “I need to know that nothing I’m about to say is going to leave this room.”

Sol’s eyes widened a little as he looked back at Selenite’s eyes. “Okay,” he said with a nod.

“Okay, good,” Selenite said, lightly nodding herself whilst never breaking eye contact with Sol. “When Grim Fate was captured, we petrified her. Figuring out what to do next was difficult, some wanted to put her on trial, some wanted to keep her petrified, some wanted to inflict a fate worse than death. But, some thought we could use her… unique skill set.”

Sol furrowed his brow. “How?”

“Experts on necromancy were, and still are, very few and far between, as it’s been an outlawed form of magic since forever. The ones we had always assumed expensive rituals were needed to resurrect or enthrall a corpse, but Grim Fate’s battlefield exploits proved them wrong,” Selenite explained. “Now, we didn’t want to enthrall anypony, that would be insane. But if she could resurrect somepony for enthrallment, she has the potential to resurrect a pony for real.”

Sol gasped. “You’re using her for resurrection?”

“Just this week, more than twenty soldiers who had been killed in action were resurrected by her. During active offensives she can be saving dozens per night,” Selenite said, her voice becoming much more confident. “Yes, what she’d done for Sombra is unforgivable, but I’d say it’s far better to have her powers used for something good rather than locking her away and having her be useless. We can’t save everyone but even a single pony being saved after a premature death makes it worth it in my eyes.”

Sol scratched the back of his head. “I guess.”

“So please, don’t ever think for a moment that your struggle was in vain,” assured Selenite. “The Crystal Ponies have been freed of Sombra’s tyranny, and we hold the power to save soldiers from the clutches of death itself. As far as I’m concerned, there’s no higher justice for Sombra’s victims than assuring that as many ponies as possible are spared from a similar end.”

Sol’s face displayed no emotion in particular. After a few seconds, he shrugged and nodded. “Alright. Makes sense to me.”

“Is that a ‘yes I agree’ alright or a ‘I don’t want to talk about this anymore’ alright?”

Smirking, Sol quietly chuckled. “A bit of both honestly,” he said, getting up from the bed. “I’m gonna go watch TV for a bit, wanna come?”

“Nope,” Selenite yawned as she settled into the bed, pulling the covers up. “Been a long night, I’m Sleepy with a capital S.”

“Alright, fair,” Sol said. He quietly made his way out of the bedroom, leaving his wife to fall into the world of dreams.

9 - The Obscenely Self-Indulgent Bonus Epilogue

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