Standing on the edge of the same shattered ground where I had once fought Damien, Ghost now stood at its centre. His gaze was fixed on the mountain ahead, his hand hovering over the handle of the katana resting at his hip. Slowly, he drew the blade from its sheath. A vibrant blue energy shimmered around the blade, only to flicker, sputter, and vanish in a puff of blue embers.

Ghost groaned inwardly, sheathing the blade with a resigned sigh. He repeated the same motion, and this time, the sharp edge of the Yamato emitted a brief shower of blue sparks before fading. Huffing again, he tried once more.

At my side, my kids watched intently, offering a running commentary as Spike observed from a distance, taking a break from his own training.

"So, whatever happened to that suit of armour you had?" Europa asked, popping a handful of berries into his mouth without looking away from Ghost while his tail swished idly behind him.

I shrugged. "Dunno. I had to ditch it when I realized I was being pulled back to the future." I glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "I figured you guys would’ve picked it up afterwards."

"To be fair, the landscape was a total wreck. We'd have been sifting through rubble for months," Europa replied with a casual shrug.

"Plus, we were kind of busy mourning you," Calise chimed in, hanging upside down from a low-hanging branch nearby while her wings dangled to the ground loosely from her back. "You know, since we thought you were dead. By the time Uncle had his visions, we’d already left the area."

Humming thoughtfully, I rubbed my chin. "I’ll have to see if I can find it someday. It was a good set of armour."

"Have you tried to replicate it?" Neptune asked as he picked a loose scale from his tail, his tone curious.

I let out a heavy sigh. "I can’t even draw up a schematic for a basic arm, let alone a suit of armour that advanced. Your Uncle was always the real engineer. Way more talented than I could ever hope to be."

"Well, maybe when he comes back, the two of you can work on a new set together," Calise suggested, still dangling upside down from her perch.

"Maybe," I said with a half-hearted shrug.

"What are you guys talking about?" Spike asked, finally tearing his gaze away from Ghost, who was still practising with the Yamato.

"Years ago, my brother built suits of armour designed specifically for us," I explained. "They were meant to enhance both our physical and mental abilities."

"That’s putting it lightly," Europa said, finishing off the last of his berries. "If you think Dad’s strong and fast now, you haven’t seen anything."

Spike paused, wide-eyed as he processed the information. "Wow," he said after a moment.

Sudden footsteps snapped our attention forward as Ghost approached, his heavy breathing punctuated by the frustrated shrug of his shoulders.

"Sir, with all due respect, we've been at this for hours, and I haven't made even a shred of progress," Ghost huffed, adjusting his mask to sit more comfortably. "Honestly, it feels like I’m going backwards."

"I can’t say I’m all that surprised," I replied evenly. "The first time you used the Yamato, it was under extreme stress. If you’d managed to pull it off again on the first try, that would’ve been shocking."

"We’ll just have to keep at it," I added quickly, before humming thoughtfully. "Maybe if we simulated a fight, it could trigger something."

I stepped into the centre of the scorched ground and summoned Anatole, resting the blade casually on my shoulder as the others watched. Tilting my head, I gestured for Ghost to join me. After a brief hesitation, he stepped forward, his posture tense and his gaze darting uncertainly around the clearing.

"Alright, Ghost. The rules are simple," I called out, making sure he could hear me. "I want you to try and hit me."

"...What?" His voice wavered with disbelief.

"Give it everything you’ve got and hit me," I said with a wide grin.

"Oh, this is gonna be good," Europa said, scaling a nearby tree with practised ease, his tail picking up speed. He settled on a branch beside his sister, who straightened, her focus now entirely on the scene. Below them, Neptune crossed his arms, looking on with interest.

"Uh... what exactly is happening here?" Spike asked, brow furrowed as he stepped up beside the much taller Draconian.

"Buckle up, buttercup," Calise chimed in, her grin stretching wider. "You’re about to witness some top-tier entertainment."

Swinging Anatole with a slight flourish, I stood ready as Ghost held his hand above the Yamato's handle, facing the side of his body to me as his muscles tensed. Fire flashed over my eyes as I saw Ghost's energy flow. Pooling in his chest, small jagged strands flowed up and through his arm, stopping and gently readying in his hand but it looked weak. His flow control looked good despite the lack of any training but it looked strained, like it was being blocked or choked by something.

Ghost's hand suddenly reached for the Yamato as he rushed forward, the blade swinging out with a loud ring. Smirking, I swivelled my heel and leaned my body back, the blade whistling past me before I stood straight, stepping back just before the katana tip could slice across my stomach.

Ghost's speed was impressive as he was significantly faster than even Equestria's top officers, but I could tell something was holding him back, much like whatever was preventing him from tapping into the Yamato's full power. Whatever it was, I was determined to help him push past it.

Parrying a stab, the ash crunched under my boot as I slid to the side, Anatole's polished edge catching a glint of the dying sun filtering through the charred skeletons of trees. Ghost came at me again, his movements precise, blade slicing the air with surgical intent. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of a clash. Instead, I twisted away, faster than his blade could follow as the Yamato sliced through the air under the stump of where my arm used to be.

Ghost’s head tilted ever so slightly, frustration radiating from his brown orbs. The Yamato pulsed faintly in his grip, like a caged animal not yet ready to roar. I saw the hesitation in his stance—a flicker of doubt—and I pressed the advantage. Closing the gap, I slipped inside his guard with a single, sharp step. The flat side of Anatole slapped his ribs lightly before I spun away again, just as his blade hissed past my face like a viper striking air.

“He's thinking too much,” I thought. Though I didn’t say my thoughts out loud, the way Ghost's shoulders tightened and his stance faltered told me he knew what I was thinking.

The forest around us was silent but for the whisper of blades and the crackle of brittle embers underfoot. Ghost lunged, Yamato carving an arc so fast it seemed to distort the air. I ducked, my one arm planting Anatole in the ashen earth for balance as I rolled clear, feeling the displaced wind graze my cheek.

He was fast—faster than when we started this little dance—but I was faster still. I pushed off the ground in one fluid motion, Anatole slicing upward in a feint. Ghost flinched, stepping back, and that’s when I saw it. The flicker of blue light rippling along the Yamato’s blade, like a distant storm approaching.

“He's trying too hard,” I thought, circling him and noting how the jagged strings flared as he used the Yamato. “He's forcing it.”

Ghost charged again, his movements desperate, like he was trying to outrun his own frustration. The Yamato hissed, its edge catching a faint hum, and I had to give him credit—this time, the blade was closer. Close enough that I felt the radiant chill of cold steel barely miss my cheek as I twisted away.

I pivoted, Anatole arcing down, not to strike but to taunt. A controlled swing that stopped just shy of his shoulder before I leapt back, out of his reach again. The sparks in his blade grew brighter, the storm stirring.

One hit. That was all he needed. But he’d never get it if he kept fighting like this. I’d seen the way the Yamato worked in its prime—graceful, ruthless precision. Ghost was trying to force it, and it was fighting him every step of the way.

I darted forward, Anatole slicing a clean diagonal through the air. Ghost parried, and for the first time, the clash of steel sang out through the dead forest. The shockwave knocked loose a charred branch, which crumbled to ash between us. For a moment, our eyes locked—mine, calm and measuring; his, blazing with the determination of a man trying to prove something. The Yamato flared, its pulse syncing with the rapid beat of his heart, and I smiled.

“Now we're getting somewhere,” I thought.

And then I was gone, Anatole a blur as I darted to his blind spot, forcing him to pivot too late. His swing was wild and desperate, and though the Yamato howled with a burst of power, it carved only air. I stood behind him, Anatole resting casually against my shoulder, a faint smirk tugging at my lips.

"Feel it, Ghost," I said evenly. "It’s not just a blade. It wants to be more. Listen to it. Feel its power, feel where it is within you and funnel it. Think about the feeling you have when you summon it. Let it flow, but control the flow."

Ghost was breathing, the rise and fall of his chest visible even beneath his black shirt. His skull mask tilted toward me for a heartbeat, then down at the Yamato in his hand. The blade was alive now, faint streaks of blue electricity dancing along its edge like it was waking up.

The shift in the air was subtle at first, but then it hit—like the weight of a storm rolling in. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as the forest seemed to darken, shadows stretching unnaturally across the scorched ground.

“Finally,” I thought, twirling Anatole once before pointing its tip lazily toward the ground.

Ghost lowered his stance, and for the first time, I didn’t move. I could see it now—the way his muscles coiled, the Yamato pulsing in rhythm with his racing heart. His energy, once jagged, slowly smoothed out, the string flowing throughout his arm thickening. This wasn’t frustration anymore. It was focus. Controlled chaos.

Then he moved.

The Yamato screamed as it was drawn from its scabbard, the blade whistling as it cut horizontally through the air towards me. The air split apart with a deafening crack, and a crescent of raw, blue energy roared forth from the blade, tearing through the charred forest like a tidal wave of light.

My brow furrowed as I tapped my knee against the flat of my blade, using it to leverage Anatole upward before I drove it down, cleaving through the arc of energy, splitting it in two and sending a thick plume of ash and debris erupting into the air. The now-cut crescent didn’t stop there as it streaked toward the mountain looming behind me, striking it with the force of a cannon. The earth groaned in protest as stone shattered and exploded outward, sending chunks of rock tumbling down the slope.

Straightening my back, my eyes return to normal as I brush ash off my coat, and turn back to Ghost. He was frozen in place, Yamato still raised, its edge glowing faintly with residual energy. Even through his mask, I could sense his disbelief.

Ghost lowered the Yamato slowly, his chest still heaving, and turned to look at the destruction he’d caused. A flicker of triumph lit his posture—just for a second—but then I caught the slight tremble in his hand. A power like that would be draining to anyone besides myself and my brother, and I knew he wasn’t used to its toll.

When the dust cleared, a gaping wound had been carved into the mountain’s face. The jagged hole yawned open, revealing a hidden tunnel that spiralled into the dark.

“You weren’t supposed to hit the mountain,” I teased silently, stepping toward the new tunnel. Anatole tapped against the side of my boot as I walked, leaving faint scratches in the dirt. “But I’ll count that as a win. Sort of.”

"Holy shit!" Europa exclaimed, suddenly appearing beside me, his hands raised in excitement. "That was—"

"Metal," Calise interrupted with a wide grin, holding up both hands in a classic rock on gesture as her small tail swished from side to side rapidly.

"Is... that a tunnel in Canterlot Mountain?" Spike asked hesitantly as he stepped up beside me.

"No, it's Sugar Cube Corner," I replied sarcastically, earning an unimpressed look from the young Draconian. "Sorry, couldn't resist."

Before the words had fully left my mouth, a stagnant, lifeless gust of air swept past us, filling my lungs with dust. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as an uneasy sensation tightened in my chest. My kids must have felt it too—their shoulders tensed, and their eyes fixed on the gaping hole before us.

Spike coughed, and Europa gently patted his back, casting me a look that silently promised he’d keep an eye on him. I nodded in return as Ghost stepped up beside me, Yamato sheathed and its ethereal glow now extinguished. His breaths were still heavy as I glanced over at him.

"You did well, Ghost," I said. "Faster than I expected."

"Thank you, Sir," He replied, quickly steadying his breathing, though I noticed the faintest tremor lingering in his hands. "Would’ve been nice if you helped out when we started, though."

"Aye, true," I said with a smirk, giving his shoulder a light bump. "But where’s the fun in that? No point in skipping the challenge."

"Fair enough," He said with a small shrug.

"Where do you think it leads?" Neptune asked quietly, his voice almost swallowed by the still air.

"Only one way to find out," I replied before turning to Spike. "Spike, I’m trusting you here, but you need to follow my lead. At the first sign of trouble, you run. Understood?"

"Yessir," He said, straightening up with a salute.

"Good." Turning to face the tunnel, I drew Anatole, its blade flickering softly with flames. "Stay behind me."

My children summoned their weapons in bursts of dark gold fire and purple sparks, their forms tense, ready to strike at the faintest sound. Ghost hovered his hand near Yamato’s hilt, his focus sharp. We stepped into the tunnel, and darkness quickly swallowed us whole as we proceeded, unaware of the pair of spectral eyes watching us disappear into the gaping maw of the mountainside.

The tunnel was dark, oppressively so, swallowing even the enhanced sight of my demonic eyes. Only the warm light of Anatole’s flames, which cast deep, flickering shadows on the walls, illuminated the path around us, and even then we could barely see a few feet in front of us. The air was ancient and heavy, reeking of stagnation, as though the space had been sealed off from the outside world for centuries.

The walls, smooth and eerily precise, hinted at being carved by magic—or perhaps by hands far too steady to belong to mortal beings. The tunnel stretched endlessly before us, sloping downward at a barely perceptible decline. The farther we descended, the colder the air grew. Though I and my children were unaffected by the chill, Ghost and Spike were not as they shivered faintly while our breaths began to fog in the dim light.

Down and further down we went, the air growing colder with every step, our breaths becoming more visible as faint white clouds. Etchings soon began to appear on the smooth walls—runes and other carvings seemingly etched at random, though their purpose was hard to discern. The etchings grew more frequent, the spaces between them shrinking as the tunnel, once claustrophobically tight, began to widen.

Eventually, the narrow passage opened into a vast chamber with a domed ceiling. The etchings extended upwards, vanishing into the shadows above, but we couldn’t make them out clearly. Without a word, we split up. Spike stayed close to me as we moved to explore the far corners of the room.

It was empty.

“What the hell is this about?” Ghost asked, his voice thick with unease. Strangely, despite the room’s size, his words lacked any echo, as though the space absorbed sound.

“I don’t know,” I replied, shaking my head. A wave of uneasiness settled in my gut—not the instinctive warning of immediate danger, but the nagging sense that we needed to tread carefully.

“And these carvings?” Spike muttered, his eyes narrowing as we leaned closer to inspect the nearest ones.

Humming to myself, I stepped toward the centre of the room. The flame around my blade flared brighter as I thrust it into the rocky floor. The sudden burst of light made Ghost and Spike flinch, but it illuminated the chamber, casting every detail into sharp relief.

The etchings weren’t random after all. They formed intricate designs, each telling its own story. Some were abstract shapes, spiralling and folding into themselves, while others depicted objects—some mundane, others extraordinary. One carving caught my eye. It stood out from the rest. It almost looked like-

“Durin?” Spike asked, his voice tinged with confusion. “But what’s a carving of Durin doing down here?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

The figure was unmistakable. Durin stood stoically, clad in heavy armour. Though the carving lacked finer details, it matched the few surviving illustrations of him from his era. He held a massive axe, one hand gripping its handle while the blade rested on the “ground.” As I studied it, something at the edge of my vision caught my attention. Glancing down, I noticed another carving—much smaller than the others. Leaning closer, I frowned. It almost looked like… an X?

The thought had barely formed when the ground beneath me cracked. Dust billowed up from the widening fissures, and I instinctively shoved Spike away, sending him tumbling toward the centre of the room. The floor collapsed beneath me with a thunderous crash.

With yells coming behind me, I plummeted, rock and dust swallowing my vision. For a moment, I was weightless, before the hard ground slammed into me, jagged stones pressing against my back. The pain was negligible, but I groaned anyway—an old reflex I hadn’t quite shaken.

"Sir!"
"Percival!"
“Dad!”

“Dad, are you okay!?” My kids’ voices echoed faintly from above as I stood, bracing my hand against my back, eliciting a series of cracks and pops.

“I’m fine! It'll take more than a sudden fall to put me out of commission!” I shouted, though I couldn’t see them. I could almost hear the collective sigh of relief from the group above me. “Are you guys alright?”

“We’re fine!” They called back. “Do you need help?”

“No, I’ve got it. I’ll fly back up!”

Summoning my wings, I prepared to take off, but something stopped me. I glanced around the space I’d fallen into.

A dense fog clung to the ground, swirling around my ankles. The alcove I’d landed in led into a much larger chamber—far bigger than the one above. At its centre rose a towering structure made of stacked circular discs, each tier smaller than the one beneath it, forming a grand, spiralling staircase. A soft, diffuse light illuminated the discs, the glow fading as it filtered into the thick fog below.

At the very top of the structure stood a statue.

Cautiously, I made my way toward it, my gaze fixed on the figure. It was a woman, seemingly in her mid-twenties, seated with an air of quiet authority. She wore a finely tailored suit, her sharp coattails fanning out behind her. Her legs were crossed, her hands resting gently in her lap. Her eyes were closed with a serene expression across her strong, but soft features, a faint smile gracing her lips.

The craftsmanship was astonishing. Every detail was perfect—from the texture of her clothing to the delicate strands of her hair. It was so lifelike that it unsettled me. The placement felt too deliberate, too calculated.

And from experience, I knew one thing for certain: this wasn’t just a statue. It looked, even felt, far too real even if my demonic vision picked up nothing.

Stepping up onto the second-to-last disc, the fog suddenly retreated, swirling and vanishing to the edges of the room as though swept away by an invisible gust of wind. Yet, no wind stirred. My stomach tightened with unease as I glanced around, but despite the tension gnawing at me, my demonic sight revealed nothing around me as well.

Cautiously, I continued upward, my movements slower this time. I came to a halt beside the ‘statue.’ That’s when I saw it—a crack.

Alarmed, I stepped back as a thin plume of dust spilt from the fissure. A heartbeat passed. Then another crack appeared. And another. One after the other, fractures spread across the statue’s surface. Dust cascaded in thick clouds, shrouding the area around it like a suffocating bubble.

Suddenly, from deep within the cracks, a searing red light seeped out, pulsing brighter with every second. With a sharp snap, a chunk of the statue broke free, crashing to the floor.

The light exploded outward, streaking into the air with a piercing whistle. It burst in a dazzling array of colours, crackling like fireworks. The statue quaked as more pieces crumbled, each releasing another burst of radiant light. Thick, blue-tinged smoke billowed from its base, curling upward and cloaking the room in a deep azure haze. A woman’s scream echoed sharply, slicing through the air.

From the statue’s collapsing remnants, a massive silhouette began to emerge. The figure—a towering woman—rose above me, her shape growing more defined as her arms stretched toward the heavens. Then, as abruptly as she had expanded, she began to shrink.

"Oi!" She exclaimed, her voice sharp and exasperated. Floating just above the rubble, she surveyed her surroundings, brushing herself off. "Holding a pose like that for so long will give you such a crick in the neck."

Now freed from the debris, I could finally take in her appearance. Her thick, shimmering white hair cascaded just past her shoulders, catching the light with an iridescent sheen. She wore a deep purplish-blue suit, paired with a tightly fitted black vest and a crisp white shirt beneath it, topped with a bright red bowtie fastened neatly under her collar. A matching pair of trousers and matte black dress shoes completed the look, giving her an air of effortless elegance.

Before I could open my mouth to speak, she held up a hand to stop me. "Hold on a second."

Without hesitation, she reached up and removed her head from her shoulders. My eyes widened as she began turning it, the sharp, metallic sound of a wrench reverberating in the air. After a moment of adjustment, she plopped her head back in place with a satisfied grin.

"Man, it feels good to be out!" She declared. Her bright yellow eyes locked onto mine, and she tilted her head curiously. "Oh hey, guy!"

Before I could react, she suddenly appeared at my side as I blinked, crossing her arms and leaning against my shoulder as though she weighed nothing at all. Her body floated horizontally, defying every law of gravity. "I like your face, guy. I like your face."

"...Thanks?" I muttered, unsure how else to respond.

"You’ve got a nice face," She repeated, her tone thoughtful. "It’s cute. Soothing, even. I like looking at it. It’s like a Matisse painting."

"Uh..."

"It’s also familiar," She continued, ignoring my awkwardness. "I feel like I’ve seen it before, but I haven’t. Weird, right?"

"I get that a lot, but what—"

"Hey, you got the time, guy?" She interrupted, tapping at her wrist.

I blinked and hesitated before glancing at my watch. "Three in the afternoon."

"Damn," She muttered under her breath. "I’m late for lunch."

"I’m sorry, what—"

"Say, what year is it?" She asked abruptly.

I opened my mouth to answer, but she cut me off, her expression suddenly panicked. "Wait… we’re not in the forty-first millennium, are we?"

"No, we’re not," I replied slowly, watching her with growing unease. "Believe me, if we were, you’d know."

She gasped, floating in front of me and squishing my cheeks between her gloved hands. "You’re a fan too!? Who’s your favourite chapter?"

"The… Salamanders," I mumbled, prying my face free from her grasp.

"Good choice," She nodded approvingly. "I'm more of a Raven Guard gal myself. Though, I am quite partial to the White Scars."

"Please, just stop," I said, halting the woman in her tracks. "Seriously, who are you?"

The woman paused, staring at me before breaking into a hearty laugh. She clutched her stomach, her body lazily shifting into a seated position mid-air. "Oh, sorry! I forget to introduce myself sometimes. Being locked up can mess with your manners, you know?"

Floating a little farther away, she coughed into her hand and, with a flourish, conjured a small spray bottle. She spritzed her mouth, cleared her throat dramatically, and straightened up.

"I am Eris! Duchess of Mischief, Heiress to the Iron Throne, and Daughter to the God of Chaos!"

"...fuck," I muttered.

Eris sat happily on the examination bed, her feet swinging idly beneath her as the Doctors moved around, conducting their tests—tests reminiscent of those performed during Ghost's coma. Unlike her apparent father, she seemed to lack the short, sharp-edged temperament he was known for, instead displaying a surprisingly easygoing attitude toward the Doctors and their procedures.

Celestia and Luna had acted swiftly upon hearing of the Chimera's discovery. They arranged for Eris to be examined almost immediately after learning where she had been found, even going so far as to personally retrieve old, specialized equipment to accommodate her unique Chimeric physiology.

The two Princesses and I stood a respectful distance away, observing as the Doctors worked. The Matriarchs wore expressions of confusion, concern, and worry, their unease evident.

"Since when did Discord have a kid?" Ghost asked quietly as I kept my gaze on Neptune, Calise, and Europa, who were keeping Eris entertained with cheerful conversation—a task she was more than happy to assist with.

"We discovered her existence sometime after Discord's imprisonment," Luna replied in a hushed tone. "He had her before then, though. We spent centuries trying to find her but eventually began to lose hope."

"To think she was right under our noses all this time," Celestia murmured. "But why was she down there?"

"I don’t know," I admitted softly, my eyes still fixed on the Chimera. "But she was deep. Whoever put her there clearly didn’t want her to be found."

"You also mentioned carvings," Luna said, her voice inquisitive. "What were they like?"

"Random, mostly," I shrugged. "Shapes, objects, symbols—nothing that seemed to follow any pattern or logic."

I hesitated before continuing. "There was one exception, though."

Both sisters turned their attention to me, their curiosity sharpening. "What was it?"

I paused before answering. "It was a carving of Durin."

Celestia and Luna’s expressions shifted in rapid succession—from curiosity to shock, then settling back into a state of confused contemplation as they exchanged glances.

"Are..." Celestia began, her voice cautious. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," I confirmed as Ghost nodded beside me. "It matches his depiction in the illustrations. "

The Princesses straightened, their postures rigid as they processed the weight of this revelation. Both took slow, measured breaths, their eyes distant as they turned the information over in their minds.

"This..." Luna said at last, her tone thoughtful, "Gives us much to consider. We will need to investigate that cavern."

Before I could respond, the lead doctor approached us. Letting out an exasperated sigh, he flipped through the pages on his clipboard, shaking his head as though grappling with a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.

"Everything appears to be fine, Your Highnesses," He announced. "Given our limited understanding of Draconequus physiology, we can’t be entirely certain, but by all indications, she seems perfectly healthy."

"Are you certain?" Celestia asked.

"Yes. We double-checked everything to ensure our readings were accurate," the Doctor replied with a firm nod.

"Told you I was healthy," Eris chimed in, suddenly appearing beside the Doctor, leaning over his shoulder to peer at the documents, a lollipop—mysteriously swiped from the front desk—hanging lazily from her lips.

The Doctor jolted at her unexpected arrival, his glasses slipping askew. Hastily adjusting them, he cleared his throat, regaining his composure. "Yes, you did, indeed."

Turning to the Princesses, he straightened his posture. "If that’s all you require of us, we shall take our leave."

"Yes, that is all," Celestia confirmed with a nod. "Thank you, Doctor Gensing. You and your staff are dismissed."

The Doctor gave a respectful bow, his staff following suit before filing out of the room. As they departed, my children stepped forward to stand beside me. Once the last of the staff had left, the two Princesses swept Eris into a sudden embrace. The Chimera let out a surprised squeak, her usual bravado melting as she was wrapped in their wings.

Smiling at the sight, I moved toward the door, only to be abruptly stopped and pulled into the same warm embrace.

"Thank you," Luna whispered, her voice soft. "You cannot know how much this means to us."

Smiling, I glanced between the wall of feathers and caught sight of my children. Only a few days ago, I hadn’t dared to dream I’d see them again. "I think I do," I replied.

Reluctantly, Celestia and Luna released us, their gazes lingering on me with a mixture of gratitude and curiosity.

"Do you know exactly who you’ve recovered?" Celestia asked.

"Eris, daughter of Discord," I answered, taking a step back. "Who also happens to be your brother."

Their expressions froze for a moment, caught in shock. Their eyes narrowed slightly, and they took a small, audible breath. There was no hostility, only confusion and scepticism. They studied my face, their gaze searching for answers in my eyes. But the fact that they kept looking told me they hadn’t found what they were seeking. Celestia stepped up beside me, leaning in, and I followed her lead.

“How did you know?” She asked in a hushed tone.

“I’m older than everyone in this room put together,” I replied, matching her tone. “I’ve been around a long time—more than long enough to remember when you two were barely knee-high.”

“How do you know?” She asked again, her voice insistent.

“You’re not the only one who saw the end of the Age of Prosperity, Celestia,” I said firmly, meeting her gaze. “I was there for it all. The Founding. The Break. The Dark Days. I saw everything.”

“Who are you?” She asked, her voice soft yet sharp with curiosity.

I smirked slightly, leaning in closer to her ear. “I’m Percival Felwinter.”

I leaned back, keeping the smirk in check as Celestia studied me, her eyes narrowing with playful curiosity. I could almost hear the gears turning in her mind as if she were trying to solve a difficult riddle. Luna looked at her sister for a moment before looking at me, adopting the same expression but deeper, and seemed to be struggling more to make sense of me. After several seconds of silence, she shook her head and closed her eyes with a small sigh.

“Just when we think we’re starting to figure you out, you pull the rug out from under us,” Celestia remarked, shaking her head with a faint smile.

“What can I say?” I shrugged. “I’m full of surprises.”

“That you are,” Celestia said. “Good thing I like puzzles.”

“Ghost?” Luna turned to him, gaining his attention. “Did you know?”

“I was told on the way up,” he replied with a shrug. “Not exactly a difficult puzzle to piece together.”

“Wait,” Eris spoke up suddenly. “If my dad is your brother… then that means…”

“You’re our niece,” Celestia finished, her signature warm smile returning.

“Whoa,” Eris said after a few moments of stunned silence. “Mind... blown.”

"Speaking of relations," Luna said, her gaze drifting to my children, as Celestia's followed, both sisters studying their faces with quiet interest and warm smiles. "So these are the Felwinter children Twilight spoke of."

"Oh, so Twilight’s already told you, has she?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. They nodded in unison. "Well, dammit, there goes my surprise."

I stepped toward my three kids and gestured to each in turn. "First up, we have Calise, the eldest," I said. She gave a bright, enthusiastic wave. "Then there’s Europa." He waved as well, a bit more reserved. "And last but not least, Neptune, the baby of the three."

The twin Princesses smiled widely, their grins so broad it seemed their faces might split in two, as they clapped lightly.

"Words cannot express how pleased I am for you!" Luna exclaimed, nearly bouncing in place with excitement.

"The resemblance is uncanny," Celestia added with a cheeky smirk. "I suppose that's to be expected when your wife is a Chimera."

"Oh, har har," I replied, rolling my eyes. My kids burst into laughter at the Princess's joke, while Ghost rolled his eyes as well. Even so, I could feel the smirk hidden beneath his mask. "Let me guess—Cadence?"

"Cadence," the sisters said in perfect unison.

"Speaking of," Celestia said, turning her attention to Eris, "we’ll have to introduce you to your cousin."

"I also have a cousin?!" Eris exclaimed, her excitement bubbling over. "Sick."

"That’ll be a sight to behold," Ghost commented dryly. "What a time to be alive."

"You’re not kidding," I nodded before looking at Eris. "So, what’s the plan now that you’re free?"

Suddenly, she appeared floating beside me, casually leaning her arms on my shoulder much like she had when we first met. "Well," She began, "after I get to know my cousin, I think I’ll be sticking close to my saviour for a while." She shot a sheepish glance at her newly reunited aunts. "If… if that’s alright."

Celestia stepped forward and gently cupped Eris’s cheek, her touch soft and reassuring as Eris leaned into it slightly. "Of course, dear," Celestia said warmly.

"Good thing I have plenty of rooms," I muttered under my breath.

As Celestia turned to leave, she suddenly stopped, stepped back, and wrapped her arms around me. Her chin rested on my shoulder as I instinctively mirrored her embrace.

"I’m so happy for you, Percival," She whispered. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy before. You deserve this."

Then, pulling back slightly, she added, "And thank you for bringing our niece back to us."

"Of course, Chief," I replied softly.

She released me with a warm smile. This one felt different—still full of her usual motherly warmth and gratitude, but there was something else in her expression, something I couldn’t quite place. With a final nod, she joined her waiting sister and niece, leaving the rest of us in the quiet room. My kids exchanged knowing glances, but what they were silently agreeing on, I couldn’t be sure.

"Just when I thought things couldn’t get any more interesting," Ghost remarked, giving me a light slap on the shoulder. "Never a dull moment with you, is there?"

"Yeah," I murmured, exhaling quietly. "You can say that again."

Author's Note

Welp, at least Eris isn't like dear old Pa, cuz I think Percy's blood pressure is high enough as it is

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