A week had passed since my evening with Shining and Cadence, and life remained blissfully ordinary. Applejack and the others dropped by whenever their schedules allowed, whether between rehearsals for their play or tending to their daily lives. This left me with plenty of time on my hands—time I spent either sketching out arm designs or simply soaking in the festive atmosphere. There was something irresistibly heartwarming about this time of year. The spirit of Christmas, or Equestria’s equivalent, was infectious, and it made my time here feel just a little more magical, a little more bearable.

Watching the kids run and play in the snow-filled me with a bittersweet mix of joy and longing, though I ignored the pang in my chest as I sipped my hot cocoa. Seated outside Sugarcube Corner, I let myself sink into the scene.

It was Hearth’s Warming Eve, and Ponyville was alive with celebration. Joy spilt into every corner of the town as carolers filled the air with song, their voices competing with the soft, steady patter of thickly falling snow. The smells of cinnamon, fir, and freshly baked treats mingled in the air, and carried on a crisp breeze. Market stalls lined the streets, offering candles, ornaments, and all manner of festive knick-knacks.

I inhaled deeply, letting the wintry scents wash over me, and a small smile tugged at my lips.

"I'm telling you, he’ll be perfect!"

"While I do not doubt that, Vinyl, he has been under significant stress lately. It would be unfair to burden him with such a trivial matter."

Opening my eyes, I spotted a familiar pair approaching through the snowy street. Both were bundled in thick winter clothing, though their distinct colour schemes made them easy to recognize. With a wave, I beckoned them over. Vinyl Scratch and Octavia Melody hesitated only briefly before making their way to my table, one with considerably more enthusiasm than the other.

"Vinyl! Octavia! Long time no see!" I greeted them warmly.

"You can say that again!" Vinyl said, bumping my fist as she plopped down across from me. "Feels like it’s been forever!"

"And you’re looking as elegant as always, Ms. Melody," I added with a small nod toward Octavia.

"Oh, you flatter me," She replied modestly, a faint smile on her lips. "And you look well too, Sir Felwinter."

"Uh… I gotta be honest with you, man," Vinyl interrupted, scratching the back of her head awkwardly. "You kinda look like shit."

"Vinyl Scratch!" Octavia gasped, glaring at her wife.

I chuckled. "It’s fine, Octavia. She’s not wrong—I’ve definitely seen better days."

"Even so," Octavia huffed, "that was incredibly rude." Her glare softened as she turned back to me.

"So, what can I help you two with?" I asked, steering the conversation back on track.

"Well," Vinyl began, "we’ve been working on a Hearth’s Warming song for weeks now. We got really close, but our lyricist bailed on us a few days ago—and took all the progress with him." She frowned. "We’ve been trying to write something new, but nothing clicks."

"I take it you’re stuck?" I said, taking another sip of cocoa.

"Very," Octavia admitted with a grimace. "Vinyl suggested that, given people know that you are a talented musician and singer, you might be able to help us."

"Of course! I’d be happy to," I said without hesitation, draining the last of my cocoa and standing.

"Wait, seriously?" Vinyl asked, blinking in surprise. "Just like that?"

"When it comes to music, it doesn’t take much convincing," I shrugged. "Now, let’s see what you’ve got for me to work with."

The two exchanged a surprised glance before smiling. Together, they led me through the snow-dusted streets to what I assumed was their studio. Instead, I found myself standing before their home.

Inside, the house was a fascinating blend of contrasting styles: the refined elegance you’d expect from Octavia mixed with the bold, energetic flair of a high-end DJ. It was cosy, yet vibrant—a perfect reflection of its owners.

Down in the basement, their studio awaited. It was a musician’s dream come true, packed with every imaginable instrument—from acoustic to digital, and even hybrids of the two. Exotic instruments I couldn’t immediately identify lined the walls, adding an eclectic touch.

"Nice," I said appreciatively, letting out a low whistle.

"Knew you’d dig it," Vinyl grinned. "The recording studio’s over here."

She led me into a smaller room dominated by an impressive setup, complete with a state-of-the-art computer. For all of Equestria’s old-fashioned charm, they occasionally dabbled in surprisingly advanced tech. Booting up the system, Vinyl and Octavia brought up a few tracks they’d been working on.

Handing me a pair of headphones, they played the first track. I closed my eyes, letting the melody wash over me. Ideas began to spark almost immediately, fragments of lyrics and themes swirling in my mind.

It didn’t take long for inspiration to strike.

"Got it," I said suddenly, pulling off the headphones.

"Already?" Octavia asked, clearly startled. "Sir Percival, we barely played a quarter of the track."

"I know," I replied with a confident smile. Grabbing the headphones resting near the microphone, I stepped into the recording booth. Giving them the okay sign, I let them play the track.

"It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Everywhere you go;
Take a look at the five and ten
It's glistening once again
With candy canes and silver lanes aglow."

Glancing up at the pair, they seemed almost instantly taken aback as the words effortlessly left my mouth, a small smile gracing my lips as I continued.

"It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Toys in every store
But the prettiest sight to see is the holly that will be
On your own front door.

A pair of hopalong boots and a pistol that shoots
Is the wish of Barney and Ben;
Dolls that will talk and will go for a walk
Is the hope of Janice and Jen;
And Mom and Dad can hardly wait for school to start again."

Swaying in time with the music, they seemed to giggle a little at the last line.

"It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Everywhere you go;
There's a tree in the Grand Hotel, one in the park as well,
It's the sturdy kind that doesn't mind the snow."

Through the glass of the recording booth, I spied Vinyl indicating towards me as Octavia gave her an unimpressed, but teasing eye roll as the two listened to the rest.

"It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas;
Soon the bells will start,
And the thing that will make them ring is the carol that you sing
Right within your heart"

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Toys in every store
But the prettiest sight to see is the holly that will be
On your own front door.

Sure it's Christmas once more..."

Tapping on the computer, Vinyl threw her hands up in triumph, her wide grin lighting up the room. Even Octavia couldn’t help but join in her excitement, her usually composed demeanour softening with laughter.

Replacing the headphones carefully where I had found them, I stepped out of the recording booth to be greeted by the pair, both radiating enthusiasm.

“Dude, I don’t know how you pulled that off, but damn—you’ve got some serious talent,” Vinyl said with a chuckle, her magenta eyes glinting with approval. “If we ever need someone to step in, you’re our first call.”

“Well, assuming I’m free,” I replied as she saved the recording with a flourish. “God knows the universe loves to keep me running in circles.”

“Yeah, yeah—if the whole Paladin gig ever falls through, just remember to give us a call,” Vinyl teased with a grin.

Her joke drew hearty laughter from all three of us, the shared moment breaking some of the tension lingering in the air. Once everything was safely saved and squared away, we made our way upstairs to the cosy living room. Octavia disappeared briefly into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a tray of steaming coffee cups. Settling into the room’s inviting warmth, we fell into easy conversation.

“So,” Octavia began as she gracefully lowered herself into an armchair, her fingers curled around her cup, “where did you learn to play like that?”

“My grandfather taught me,” I said, leaning back with a small smile as memories surfaced. “Everything I know, really—not just music.”

Octavia’s brow lifted slightly in interest, while Vinyl tilted her head. “Wait… are you saying he taught you how to fight too?”

I shrugged, sipping my coffee before answering. “More or less. Let’s just say I wouldn’t be the person I am today without his guidance.”

“He sounds like he was an incredible man,” Octavia said softly, her voice carrying a tone of reverence.

“He was,” I replied, nodding solemnly, my thoughts momentarily drifting.

There was a brief pause, filled only by the quiet clink of cups and the comforting hum of conversation lingering in the air. Then Vinyl’s voice broke through, curiosity dancing in her tone.

“Hey, so… what’s Christmas?”

Before I could respond, a sharp knock echoed from the front door, instantly drawing all of our attention. The sound was firm, deliberate, and carried an urgency that made Octavia glance between us and the source of the interruption. Rising smoothly, she moved to answer it.

The door opened to reveal a royal guard standing at attention, his armour gleaming even in the muted light. His face was stern, his expression underscored by a sense of urgency.

“Is Sir Percival Felwinter here?”

Straightening instinctively, I moved to stand behind Octavia. “I’m here. What’s going on?”

The guard’s eyes flicked to me, his tone clipped but respectful. “Sir, you’re needed immediately. It’s Lieutenant Ghost.”

My heart skipped at the name. “What about him?”

“He’s awake.”

Sitting at the edge of Ghost’s bed, I couldn’t help but stare at him in disbelief as the doctors busied themselves with their tests, ensuring he was stable. Not even a day ago, which had been my last visit, he had been utterly unresponsive, no matter what the medical team tried to bring him back. And now, here he was—sitting upright, participating in the tests like he’d just woken from an afternoon nap.

“And how do you feel, sir?” One of the Doctors asked, his voice calm but probing. “Any lingering fatigue? Weakness in motor functions, even slight?”

“No,” Ghost replied, shaking his head ever so slightly as the Doctor directed a small light into his eye. “Feel fine.”

“And your last memory before waking?” Another Doctor chimed in.

Ghost paused, glancing at the bedside table. His eyes settled on the Yamato, the blade sitting there with an almost ominous presence. “We were falling,” he said finally. “I swung that sword”—He motioned toward it—“and a portal opened. That’s the last thing I remember.”

The Doctor scribbled a note, his pen scratching against the clipboard, before exchanging a subtle glance with his colleagues. As they continued their work, I stepped away with the lead Doctor, distancing ourselves by a few paces while Twilight and her friends, who were not long done finishing the play the Princesses had asked them to play in, stayed near Ghost, engaging him in quiet conversation.

“How is he?” I asked, my voice low and urgent.

“He’s perfectly fine,” The Doctor replied, flipping through his notes as though searching for a discrepancy that didn’t exist. “In fact, he’s more than fine. Whatever caused his comatose state has left no residual effects that we can detect.”

“So… he’s healthy?”

“More than healthy,” The Doctor admitted, his gaze drifting briefly toward Ghost. “If I’m being honest, sir, it’s... unusual.”

“What do you mean, unusual?” I pressed, a knot forming in my gut.

“For starters, his muscle density and oxygen capacity have increased significantly. His red blood cells are operating at levels we’ve only seen in peak athletes—or certain magical phenomena. We also performed a reaction time test earlier, and his speed has improved by roughly one hundred and ten per cent. Every single test we’ve run comes back with results far above the norm. It’s… perplexing, to say the least.”

I frowned, glancing back toward Ghost, who seemed perfectly at ease as he exchanged words with the group of friends. “And when do you think he’ll be able to leave?”

“We’ll need to run a few final tests just to be thorough,” The Doctor said, closing his clipboard. “But if everything checks out—which I suspect it will—he should be clear to leave by this afternoon.”

My eyes drifted back to the Yamato, the blade catching the light as it sat untouched on the table. Something about it nagged at me.

“Can I have a moment alone with him?” I asked.

“Of course, sir.”

The Doctor gave a small nod before ushering his team out of the room. The Elements followed, offering me reassuring smiles and a few quiet words of encouragement as they passed. Once the door clicked shut, I pulled a chair over and sat beside Ghost, much as I had during the long hours of his unconsciousness. This time, though, the tension in my chest had finally loosened.

“Good to see you, bud,” I said with a grin.

“You too, sir,” Ghost replied, nodding once. Then, with a faint smirk, he added, “Permission to speak freely?”

“You know you don’t have to ask, Ghost.”

“You look like shit.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, well, you could say that again.”

“How’re you holding up?” He asked, his tone casual yet tinged with curiosity.

“Ghost, I should be asking you that,” I countered. “How’re you feeling?”

Ghost didn’t answer right away. He took a slow sip of water, his fingers absently brushing against his face before he finally spoke. “I feel... different.”

“Different how?” I pressed. “Bad different? Good different?”

“Just… different,” He said, his brow furrowing slightly. He scratched at one of his pointed ears. “I feel more… aware. Like my senses are sharper. I can hear things I couldn’t before, smell things I shouldn’t even notice. Everything looks more vivid, more defined. It’s... strange."

A chill ran down my spine, but I kept my tone steady. “This might sound odd, but bear with me—do you feel like you have knowledge about that sword”—I pointed to the Yamato—“that you didn’t have before? Like something came to you the moment you touched it?”

Ghost nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Aye. It’s like… it’s always been mine. Like I’ve trained with it for years. But that's not the only thing.”

“What is it?”

“When I woke up, I was...disoriented. Managed to cut myself by accident,” He admitted, holding up his hand to show his palm. There was nothing there. “The damn thing healed in seconds.”

I exhaled through my nose, leaning back in my chair. His description was all too familiar. It mirrored my own experience when I first arrived here—when I’d first touched my blade, Anatole, and later when I bonded with Ace. That overwhelming rush of knowledge, those flashes of skill and understanding—it felt as if your brain might shatter under the weight of it all. It was overwhelming, disorienting… but effective Yet for Ghost, an Equestrian through and through, this shouldn’t have been possible.

My eyes flicked back to Ghost as he ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair. I noticed it then—a few strands of white, stark against the rest.

“In any case,” Ghost said suddenly, snapping me from my thoughts. as he gestured to the Yamato. “I believe that belongs to you.”

I shook my head. “Why don’t you hold onto it for me? I couldn’t get the damn thing to work right anyway.”

Ghost raised a brow but didn’t argue.

“It’s good to have you back,” I said after a pause, my voice softening. “You had me worried there for a minute.”

“I’m not going anywhere, sir,” Ghost replied, holding up a hand with a small smirk. Grinning widely, I reached out, clasping his hand in a firm grip before pulling him into a quick embrace.

“All of that happened while I was unconscious?” Ghost asked as he stepped off the train cart, his tone laced with disbelief. “Bloody hell.”

After several hours of rigorous testing, the doctors concluded that Ghost wasn’t experiencing any adverse symptoms. In fact, they deemed him stable enough to go home, albeit with some hesitation. They discharged him tentatively, cautioning me to monitor his condition closely and report anything unusual that might pose a risk to his health. With that in mind, and the Elements in tow, we began the journey back home. I made sure to follow their advice to the letter.

“Yeah, it’s been a rough few weeks,” Rainbow Dash replied as I rubbed the bridge of my nose, the exhaustion catching up to me. “I don’t know how things could possibly get crazier.”

“You can say that again,” I said with a small nod as we stepped off the train platform. “Thankfully, I had this lot to keep me... well, somewhat sane.”

“And you actually decided to take Spike as your apprentice,” Ghost remarked, inclining his head toward the young Draconian walking beside us. “Now that has to be the most surprising development.”

“You’re telling me,” Spike said with a chuckle. “It’s been driving Twilight up the wall.”

“That’s only because a certain someone refuses to tell me anything,” Twilight huffed, though her expression softened just a touch. “Still, I trust you’ll keep him safe.”

“At least you gave me the holidays off,” Spike commented with a smirk.

“With the progress you’ve made, I’d say you earned it,” I replied, pushing open the front gate and leading the group along the neatly paved stone path.

When we reached the door, there was a faint sound as it swung open—paper scraping against varnished wood. Glancing down, I noticed an envelope wedged beneath the door. Bending to pick it up, I manoeuvred it into my hand and used my thumb to carefully pry it open. I slipped out the folded piece of paper inside, tucking the empty envelope under the stump of my right arm before unfolding the note.

Meet us at the Castle of the Two Sisters’ inner courtyard.

“Well, that’s not ominous,” I thought dryly, sighing outwardly.

“Everything alright, darling?” Rarity asked, her voice cutting through my thoughts.

Before I could respond, Ghost was suddenly at my side, snatching the note from my hand. His sharp eyes scanned the brief message, and his brow furrowed.

“Well, that’s not ominous,” He echoed, his tone flat.

“Yeah,” I said, exhaling heavily. “My thoughts exactly.”

“What’s up?” Pinkie Pie asked, her usual cheer replaced by concern.

Glancing at the group, I immediately noticed the worry etched onto their faces. No point in hiding it.

“Seems we’ve got a little meet-and-greet to attend,” Ghost interjected before I could explain further.

“Ghost, no,” I said firmly, cutting him off. “You just got out of the hospital after being in a coma for weeks. You need to rest.”

“Sir—”

“Ghost,” I interrupted, my tone sharper now. “I don’t care how fine you think you feel. I’m not risking your health over this. As your commanding officer, your General—but more importantly, your friend and brother-in-arms—I’m ordering you to stay behind and recover. Is that understood?”

He stared at me for a long moment before his shoulders slumped in reluctant defeat. “Yes, Sir.”

“Remember the Kraken?” I said, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I’ve handled worse. I’ll be fine.”

Turning to the rest of the group, I forced a grin, hoping to ease some of the tension. “Well, girls, keep the house clean for when I get back! I won’t be long.”

With that, I stepped outside, closing the door behind me and beginning the trek to the Castle.

The journey felt longer than it actually was. Something about what awaited me gnawed at my gut, leaving me uneasy. It wasn’t the dread I felt whenever Damien reared his head, nor was it the anticipation of a fight. It was... different, and for the life of me, I couldn’t put a finger on what exactly it was.

Each step along the empty path felt heavier than the last, the sound of crunching snow under my boot being the only sound that came from me. Eventually, the crumbling silhouette of the Castle of the Two Sisters came into view, appearing through the thin fog like a spectre and the knot in my stomach twisted tighter. With a leap, I cleared the chasm surrounding the ruins and landed in the foyer. Moving through the winding halls, I navigated toward the inner courtyard, where the shattered remains of the fountain loomed at the centre like a weathered monument to the past.

Stepping into the open space, I paused, fire flickering briefly in my eyes as I scanned the area for energy signatures. It didn’t take long to find them. Three figures stood on the roof above, their postures tense, their obscured faces watching me intently.

They leapt down, sending flurries of snow cascading from the ledges and landing in the courtyard with practised precision. Small bits of stone scattered from the impact as loose snow exploded outward in a flurry of white. The trio wore well-maintained yet weathered grey robes, trimmed with light fur along their shoulders and backs. Leather gauntlets gripped their forearms, and a single pauldron adorned each of their right shoulders. Shadows obscured most of their faces, save for the tips of their noses.

The woman, clearly a Viseran judging by the bat-like wings on her back and the fangs protruding from her mouth, moved with a predator’s poise, effortlessly twirling twin daggers in her hands as though they weighed nothing. To her left, a massive Draconian with red scales carried a kanabo—a steel-studded club resting casually against his shoulder while his tail idly brushed against the ground. The third, a leaner Lycan whose movements seemed coiled and ready to pounce, flicked twin short swords into position. The blades gleamed in the faint sunlight.

“So,” I began, my voice carrying through the icy air, echoing off of the ruined courtyard around us. “You’re the ones who sent that message to Walter before the Gala. Gotta say that opened up quite the can of worms. So, who are you?”

They didn’t respond. Instead, they readied their weapons, their movements decisive and without hesitation.

The woman moves first, closing the gap in an instant. Her daggers lash out, flashing in tight arcs. My side takes the first strike, cutting a deep wound into it as I was momentarily caught off guard, my arm snapping up to deflect the second with my gauntlet. The impact rings out, metal screaming against metal, and I feel the shock rattle through my bones. She doesn’t pause. Her other blade slices toward my midsection. I pivot hard, twisting away from the attack and slamming my shoulder into her as she passes. It throws her off balance, but she rolls with the motion, bouncing back into a ready stance.

Before I can press the advantage, the leaner man is on me. His short swords blur as he launches a flurry of strikes as he cut through the snow-filled air. I duck under one, raise my arm to block another and twist to avoid a third that nearly finds my throat. He’s quick. I wait for the opening, and when he overcommits with a downward slash, I lunge forward, driving my elbow into his jaw. He staggers, but not for long. His split lip seals itself before the blood even hits the ground.

The air shifts behind me. The kanabo is coming. I dive forward just as the massive weapon crashes down, splitting the snowy pavement with a deafening crack. Rolling onto my feet, I spin to face the brute. He’s deceptively fast and the sheer weight of his swings makes him a constant threat. He steps forward, bracing his palm against the kanabos bottom end, sending it charging forward in a deadly jab. I duck low, feeling the air ripple above me as the weapon misses my head by inches. Rising quickly, I throw a straight punch into his gut, the force amplified by every ounce of power I can muster. It’s like hitting a brick wall, but it stops him for half a second—a long enough window to slam my knee into his side, throwing him off balance.

Pain explodes in my back as one of the daggers slices across my shoulder. The woman is there again, her movements precise and relentless. I stagger forward, twisting away as she presses her attack. Her blades flash too fast to fully evade; one slices my forearm, and another carves a shallow line along my ribs. My healing kicks in, sealing the wounds almost as quickly as they form.

I feint to the side, drawing her forward, then lash out with a low kick that catches her ankle. She stumbles, and I seize the chance to slam my fist into her sternum. The force sends her flying backwards, but she plants a hand on the ground, flipping upright with supernatural agility as her wings shoot out to stop her momentum.

The leaner man closes the gap again. His short swords cut in a rapid X-pattern, forcing me into a defensive retreat. I parry one strike with my gauntlet, sidestep another, and retaliate with a sharp jab to his throat. He gasps, the attack halting him for a fraction of a second, but his healing restores him before I can follow through. He ducks under my next swing, his blade carving a shallow cut along my leg. A dull pain flares, but I ignore it and keep moving, pivoting to face all three of them as they regroup.

The brute roars, charging forward with his kanabo raised high. I brace myself, stepping into his swing instead of away. At the last second, I twist, letting the weapon’s momentum carry him slightly off balance. My prosthetic leg powers up, hydraulics hissing, as I drive a low kick into his knee. The impact doesn’t break the joint, but it sends him sprawling to the side, the blow leaving him vulnerable for a few crucial moments.

The woman comes at me again, daggers aimed at my throat and chest. I twist, grabbing her wrist mid-strike and yanking her forward. Her second blade arcs toward my ribs, but I trap her arm between mine and drive my head into hers with a brutal headbutt. She staggers, blood streaming from her nose, but she’s already healing as she pulls free and dances out of range with a single flap of her wings.

The leaner man flanks me, his short swords a blur as he slashes at my exposed back. I spin, dropping low, and sweep his legs out from under him. He hits the ground hard, and I stomp down on his chest with my real foot, but it’s not enough to keep him down. He grunts, stabbing upward with one of his blades. I jerk back, the blade grazing my side, and kick him in the ribs to buy space.

The brute is up again, kanabo swinging in a wide arc that clears the ground between us. I duck, the weapon crashing into the side of a parked truck, caving the vehicle in with a deafening crunch. Before he can recover, I lunge forward, driving my shoulder into his chest. He barely budges, but it gives me enough leverage to jam my foot onto his knee. My pegleg roars, the recoil sending my knee into the bottom of his jaw, momentarily shattering it. He topples, grunting briefly as his healing works overtime to mend the damage.

I don’t let up. I’m already moving toward the wiry man as he rises, slamming my fist into his temple before he can fully stand. The woman is there an instant later, her daggers carving toward my side. I twist, catching one blade on my bracer and ducking under the other. My pegleg swings in a high kick, catching her in the ribs and sending her flying into the brute, who’s just starting to get back up. that's when I heard a noise.

A faint clatter to my side. My eyes flickered toward the sound before locking onto a pair of gold-framed glasses half-buried in the snow, glinting from the light of the snow. My breath hitched as I stooped, trembling fingers brushing away the frost. The world freezes.

The trio exchange a glance before reaching for their hoods.

The woman lowers hers first, then the leaner man, and finally the brute.

My heart stops as their eyes meet mine.

"Hi, dad."

Author's Note

And so, the last chapter of the year, can't say I expected to end it off like this

Closing off the year, I want to wish everyone a Happy Holiday and a wonderful New Year
I don't know why some of you have stuck around for as long as you have, but I greatly appreciate it, more than you know

Gonna be real for a second, I don't know what I expected when I started with this story. I had a lot of ideas with no idea if I would be able to put any of them in and I'm so glad that it resembles even a little of what I envisioned. And the fact people are seemingly enjoying it enough to stick around for a year gives me quite a bit of motivation to keep going

So as my final words until 2025
You is kind! You is smart! And you is important!

Here's to another year! See you soon!

Please point out any mistakes I may have made
Constructive criticism is always appreciated
Until next time, TTFN!