Fury of the Storm

by HK-FortySeven

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Sex, Zebra, Human, My Little Pony: The Movie, Anon, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Second Person, Alternate Universe, Other, Original Character, Comedy, Profanity
Length: 95190

Anon escapes captivity with his new evil apprentice and takes revenge on the world. And has a great time doing it.

For the briefest of moments, Anonymous wielded absolute power. He single-handedly destroyed the city of Canterlot, laid waste to Ponyville, decimated the Everfree Forest, and came dangerously close to annihilating the very Tree of Harmony itself. And he had an absolutely fantastic time doing it.
Right up until he lost.
Now he's stuck as a statue under the watch of the princesses he tried to subjugate, awaiting the time he'll be locked away forever, with the key no doubt thrown into a volcano. But from the very beginning, Anonymous suspected that the shenanigans of the good guys would cost him his victory at the last moment, and so he laid plans with his most loyal of subjects—all former soldiers of the Storm King he betrayed to obtain his power—to arrange for his release should the opportunity arise.
Unfortunately, he wasn't counting on the ponies calling in help from a faraway land. Enter the Four Princes of Zebrica, all wielding the same exact power that Anonymous did, and knowing a thing or two about how to put bad apples like him away for good. This is made even worse by the sorry state of Anonymous's storm beast forces, having hit hard times in the months since his defeat.
But not all is lost for the petrified supervillain. Because in a rare twist of luck, the Princes just so happen to unknowingly bring with them a zebra criminal with his own dirty little secret. A secret that not only secures Anonymous's release from captivity, but just might be the start of a horrifying new partnership, and with it, the birth of a new force of evil.
And of course, with all that going on, there's always the matter of the nascent Legion of Doom, plotting to bring their own age of darkness to Equestria as well...

Takes place during the final two seasons of Friendship Is Magic. With a few alterations here and there, because I HATE THE ANTI-FIM I HATE THE ANTI-FIM :bread:
Reading Rider on the Storm is strongly advised if you want any idea of what the hell is happening in this story.

Published 2024-02-02 15:10:00 UTC
Last updated 2024-10-12 16:01:19 UTC

Cities On Flame With Rock And Roll

Months before the invasion of Equestria...

“Fuck a duck,” you groan.

You wince a bit as you shuffle the ice pack on your forehead, pained as much by the movement of your arm as you were by the sudden lack of cold. For the second fucking time, your dumb ass failed to factor in your current power limits. And for the second goddamn piece-a-shit time, your astoundingly dumb ass went and got himself saturated. And for the second motherfuckin’ shit goddamn sonuvabitch time, your phenomenally dumb ass was wiped out in the captain’s cabin of your out-on-patrol airship. Wasting time recovering from your fuck-up that could have been spent training up your powers for your upcoming usurpation of the Storm King.

For fuck’s sake, you couldn’t even read the stack of old reports by your bed right now! How’s an honest supervillain supposed to do his job like this?

The cabin door opens, and in steps Cid. In the company of trusted beasts, he allowed himself to distinguish himself from the others, just like Biggs and Wedge did. He didn’t dare bring his nice suit out in the field, though: he settled with just a clip-on bowtie, as opposed to the pair’s respective sunglasses and nerdglasses. Of far more interest to your bleary eyes, however, was the tray he had perched in his hand, containing a big ol’ bottle of red wine plus glasses, a steamin’ pitcher of coffee plus mugs, a big ol’ bowl of soup that also steamed away, and most importantly, a tall wire basket full of charged magic crystals.

Cid wastes no time, setting the tray down on the other nightstand not filled with paper and forking over the container of sweet, sweet magical gems. All it took was that one touch, and the nectar-like juice flooded right into your system, that little bit’a hair of the dog soothing all those aches better than any amount of ice packs or bed rest could.

“Ohhhhh fuck yeah,” you moan, greedily draining the gems of power. “Oh, daddy needed this.”

With the gems spent and a little bit of gas in the tank, you still felt like total dogshit, but that was monumentally better than how you felt before. So good, in fact, that before you know it, your still dumb ass had drifted off to sleep, like a lil’ baby fresh off’a mama’s titty.

The whole-ass city—a wacky amalgam of San Francisco, Vancouver, New York, and other such urban hellholes—stood before you, filled to the brim with furries doing the most heinous, abominable things to each other: the kind of things that only Slaanesh could pop a hermaphroditic stiffy to. A thick, pitch-black cloud hung overhead, and the ‘rain’ that spilled from the cloud was pure crude oil, used liberally by the crowds below to lube up their endeavours, the nastiness of using crude for their degeneracy entirely lost on them. Or enhanced by it.

Your arm reached out, the limb—and the rest of your body—drained of colour and with a soft, almost hazy quality to it. It occurs to you in that moment that you’re dreaming. And in the following moment, a wicked smile splits across your face. If this is a dream, and you’ve got control over it, then you know exactly what you’re gonna do to this city.

So you raise your hand to the heavens and wish for the modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah before you to have a meteor dropped on it. That doesn’t happen, but something real similar to it does. The sky splits open like God himself parted it, and a harsh, wildly fluctuating green light filters down, the same colour as your cypher power. Looking up, the source is some kinda...

Uhh.

Okay, you’ll be honest, you have no idea what it’s supposed to be. It looked like it was suffering some major, crippling indecision on whether it wanted to be a sun or a crystal, and was repeatedly cracking, splintering, melting, and otherwise breaking itself all over in completely random places, and doing a horrible patch job of fixing itself soon after into whichever shape that given region wanted to be. Which would last for all of about three or four seconds before the spot ripped itself up and repeated the cycle all over again, with absolutely no discernible pattern to it all.

Well, whatever it was, it sure shone like a sun, and bolts of unstable power crackled and burst from it every time it’s surface broke, which was a lot. And judging by it’s appearance, you’d say it probably belongs to you. Testing that theory, you point a couple of fingers at it, but you pause your finger swipe to marvel at how your neon-green power coursed along your pointing arm and swiftly spread out along your whole body. It felt pretty good, but not quite like your usual exercise of power. Regardless, once your navel-gazing was done, you put on a fresh smirk and resume pointing up at the sun, swiping your fingers down to the city as if calling down a lightning strike.

It responded exactly like you thought it would. Green energy, as much lightning as it was fire, split across the cityscape with a deafening, otherworldly CRACK, and a huge chunk of the city was shredded by the impact and destroyed outright. What wasn’t destroyed caught on fire, ignited by that same power. And that fire? Oh, it started green, but then it lit all of that black gold on fire, rapidly spreading across just about all of the city and burning a mixture of green and orange. The cacophonous moans coming from it before melted into cacophonous screams instead, and you could smell the ashes and flames from here, which you merrily drank in with a big sniff.

You spread your arms out up towards the unheavenly body with a laugh, singing some Blue Öyster Cult as you look out at carnage unfolding before you. The light from your not-sun overtakes the scenery in bright green, followed by bright white.

“Ahh,” you sigh happily as you return to the land of the waking. “What a wonderful dream.”

Even more wonderful than that reminder of the world you fought hard to obtain was the notable lack of most saturation symptoms. Sure, there was still some pain, and you didn’t wanna push your luck training yourself in this state, but at least you weren’t a bedridden mess anymore! So with that wind in your sails, you pick you still somewhat sluggish ass out of bed, hit the shower, and come out with just a fresh bodysuit on, plopping down at a desk and deciding to at least get some report reading done, if nothing else.

Man, that dream was wild, though. You almost never remember them, and there was definitely something different about this one, beyond the fact that it was lucid. That weird not-sun was the biggest thing that stuck out. Wonder what that’s about? A Freudian phenomenon? Hmm, nah; not enough mother fucking for that. So, some kinda weird undocumented cypher thing? Maybe, maybe.

Well, you know what? If getting dreams like that only happens when you saturate, you’ll just have to be happy with the one-off. Shit ain’t worth it.

Refocusing, you sift through the reports. Cid brought you a big ol’ pile of the Storm King’s prior exploits, mostly for your own entertainment as much as it was probing his whole family of twenty’s grocery list worth of weaknesses. But around an hour into your reading, helped by Cid checking in and getting some fresh coffee for you, one report in particular—dated a few months before you’d allowed yourself to be recruited—really caught your eye.

The report on the failed invasion of Zebrica.

This report was full of additional notes added by Cid just for you, which was already an oddity. Apparently, he and the other two boys had been part of this invasion. But the real interesting part was how it wasn’t fought off with superior tactics in the King’s own country, or by the superior technology of the minotaurs. This one was fought off with only four guys: the so-called Four Princes of Zebrica.

And the reason they could pull it off was pretty obvious: just like you, all four of ‘em were full-blown cyphers, and laid absolute waste to his forces and fleet, forcing him to retreat just seven minutes after he attacked. You’d call that especially pathetic on his part—which it was—but judging from the damage reports, it was also a really strong display on the faraway land’s part, too. You say ‘land’, because even according to Wedge’s additional notes—helpfully provided for you in each of these reports—it was still an open question whether or not Zebrica was a country or a continent, noting a ton of different factions and power struggles, on top of a lot of decidedly not zebra races living there as well.

Reading a bit further past the big chunk of Wedge’s limited Zebrica intel nets you an additional bit of entertainment: according to Cid, the Storm King got so shitter-shattered about taking that catastrophic L from the zeebs that he spent an entire week retreating all along the Zebrican coastline to drive-by bomb any settlements he ran across, driven by pure salty rage. That didn’t end up working too well on account of one of those Princes chasing his ass down with a fleet of around thirty seafaring warships full of troops, pelting his storm cover all the while with ballista fire and the Prince’s huge laser sword beams, taking out a surprising number of airships and forcing him to just cut his losses and gun it. And of course, it never occurred to him to deviate away from the coastline. Though honestly, you’re a little surprised they’d only send one Prince to chase his ass down. On the other hand, the results don’t lie: they only really needed the one.

Humming, you procure your Testament for a moment and inscribe a reminder to not fuck with Zebrica until you’ve attained ultimate power. That was likely what it would take to crush those guys in a straight-up fight, especially if they came at you all at once.

In any case, you finish reading the report and pack it back up, moving onto reading the rest while sipping on your mug of the other black gold.

So much work to do, and so little time to do it. But at least you’ll have your full power back for your next target. Mount Aris ain’t gonna conquer itself, that’s for goddamn sure.

PRELUDE
Mirror's Edge

Months earlier, six days after the Storm King’s failed invasion of Zebrica...

My raft coasted along through the still black waters of the great lake. The oar in my fetlocks broke the utter silence with it’s strokes in the utterly lightless waters, without so much as a breeze or an insect filling the quiet. All around, the water stretched out to each horizon as far as my eye could see, the still body reflecting the twinkling starlit sky above on the rare occasions I looked down from that very sky. Was I entranced by it? Or navigating with it? I did not know. I did not care.

Then, far off in the horizon, the telltale yellow glow of the sun began to appear, rapidly growing in size and intensity. Tendrils of yellow flame heralded it’s arrival, licking the skies with chaotic strokes and leaving an almost iridescent trail in their wake beyond just distorting the air with their heat. When the sun finally peeked across the horizon, it’s true nature was revealed.

The great ball of malevolent yellow flame loomed in the distance, the innumerable yellow tendrils making up it’s mass spreading from a great black expanse within it’s very centre, as if it were the unblinking pupil in a great burning eye. Hot air began to blow from it’s direction that brought waves in it’s wake, the scent of ash carried along with them. The ersatz sun remained rooted to the horizon with a great column of that same yellow flame as it grew like a flowering weed. The tendrils of flame grew longer and more numerous, stretching as if to envelop the very sky itself, bathing everything in it’s intense, unnatural light. The breeze became as a gale as the now choppy and illuminated greenish-blue waters began to steam and boil under the oppressive light of the fire.

My oar burst into flames and clattered to the smouldering deck of the raft. A great tidal wave of boiling water loomed towards me from the false sun’s root at the horizon. Yet I could not bring myself to care. All that mattered was the great ball of fire. I understood on an intellectual level that it was a terrifying force of destruction. Yet the sight of it calmed me, as if I were looking upon the smiling face of a familiar friend for the first time in years.

I reached up with a smile, as if to hold it in my hoof. Yellow fire ignites across my fetlock and quickly spreads across my foreleg and the rest of my body in short order, yet it is as comfortable as a warm blanket. The black central mass leaked blindingly bright liquid flame, the fluid defying perspective and dripping onto my frog and fetlock. It sizzled and boiled violently against my coat, yet never hurt nor injured me.

The roar of the tidal wave approaches. The sun’s light intensifies. The black mass is drowned out in the glow. Everything is yellow. Everything is white. Everything is...

“Mnngh...”

I reflexively screw my eyes shut at the harsh orange-gold rays of the unflinching Zebrican sun, peeking through the boards covering the window and cresting across my eyes as if nagging me to wake up already. It doesn’t take long for me to adjust, and I gingerly rub a fetlock across my eyes in an attempt to wake myself just a bit faster.

That same sun, that same fire, had haunted yet another of my dreams. No, haunt isn’t the right word: accompanied is more accurate. Just as it accompanied so many of my dreams from when I was still a colt. And though I still don’t understand what it is or what it means even after all these years, it’s presence was never unwelcome. Especially for the odd nightmare that it was more than happy to burn to ashes.

I shuffle about a bit as I wake my body up. My shuffling, unfortunately, wakes the mare that was sharing my bed. And after a short groan of her own, she immediately latches onto me, burying her muzzle in my mane.

“mmmnfh nooooo, five more minutes,” she groaned, shamelessly rubbing her belly against my barrel as her tail flicked about under the covers, trying to lash against my flank.

Well, she certainly helped wake me faster, but not for the reason she no doubt fantasizes about. Regardless, I need to start the day properly. Once my body had woken up enough, I pulled free from her hold and stepped out of bed. But she refused to let me go that easily, flopping herself lengthwise across my back. She giggled like a lovestruck schoolfilly, kissing and nuzzling against my head while wiggling her hips in an attempt to arouse me. Her efforts only earn her an annoyed snort and a roll of my eyes, and I easily carry the mountain zebra like this towards the front door. There, I unceremoniously dump her onto the ground outside.

“Out,” I ordered.

“Call me!” she swooned, utterly unbothered by my treatment of her.

SLAM

She definitely had hearts in her eyes. Hrm, how many times have I taken her to bed, now? Seven, eight perhaps? Well, no matter.

I went down my mental checklist for this abandoned house: changing the sheets, making the bed, soaking the used sheets in some soapy water for later, making sure I had plenty of protection and supplies left in the nightstand, making sure nothing else needed cleaning up, double-checking all of the traps, and finally, locking the house up. Once done, I climb the ladder in another room and push past the trapdoor to the roof. And after stretching my limbs out and savouring the cracks and pops it brings, I break into a sprint, leaping across to another rooftop. From there, I continue running at a dead gallop, jumping from one rooftop to another and making swift progress to my true home.

Today looked like yet another normal morning on the crime-infested isle of Farasi. Below the great numbers of densely packed and short, reddish-orange buildings made of terracotta and bricks, zebras of all stripes went about their daily routines: trading with one another, going to work, the usual fare. And for the numerous members of the large criminal syndicates that roamed the streets alongside them, they busied themselves with trading in narcotics, fighting and mugging those from opposing factions, and other such pleasant activities. None bothered to hide their actions: in a place as thoroughly corrupt as this, there was simply no need.

And it never failed to bring a smile to my face.

With practiced ease and the benefit of my natural speed, I navigate the rooftops of the bustling port town of Bandari quickly and uneventfully. In mere minutes, I reach my destination: the massive and monolithic bell tower a fair distance from the furthest inland outskirts of the town, standing at what must be at least a hundred and fifty metres in height. Though it was weathered and dilapidated from many decades, or possibly even centuries of abandonment, the solid black stone of it’s construction, laced with stripes of white stone as if to emulate a zebra’s pattern, stood strong against the climate and the passage of time, as if in open defiance of nature herself.

It wasn’t the only one of it’s kind, far from it: there were five other bell towers like it all across Farasi. All were avoided by most zebras for the same reason they avoided most abandoned structures beyond just the structural issues: out of fear of the spirits that haunted such places. In my experience, I’ve never seen spirits of any kind, even if others swear that they have. But I’m certainly not about to correct their superstition. Not when it provides cover for both my true home, and my various hideaways in Bandari.

Upon entering the base of the tower, the first thing I do is check the traps. Just like in the abandoned house I left, the traps were there to maintain the illusion of the place being haunted by vengeful spirits, and thus chase any inquisitive zebras away. Some were harmful to intruders though, just to be on the safe side, but most of those traps were in this building, and not hideouts like that house.

Regardless, they were all undisturbed and in working order, so I move to ascend the tower itself. A single spiralling staircase provided my path up towards the belfry, made of the same black stone as the tower. Shielded from the weather outside, the stone still retained some of the sheen from it’s long-gone days of glory. The climb is a bit slow due to the gentler angle, but that same angle also makes it a very relaxing trek. Before long, I make it to the top, pushing the relatively recent wooden trapdoor open with my head and stepping into the belfry proper. My home proper.

Well, our home proper, anyways. My cohabitant could be heard snoring loudly inside of the long-overturned bell, as was normal for her.

The belfry had already been enclosed by it’s designers, with only a few slits to the outside world that were made to blend in to the stone when looked at from outside. We’d brought up some wooden boards and painted them black before boarding those slits over from the inside and draping plenty of blackout curtains over them, just to keep the illusion up. Indeed, the only real light source inside the otherwise completely blacked out enclosure was the smattering of oil lamps hung all around on the walls, and on several coat stands placed across the floor. Most were off, but a few were kept lit for my sake. That wasn’t counting the unlit candles and torches spread around either, but those were there more for backup lighting: the lamps simply lasted far longer.

As always, my first destination was the bathroom. The wide-open and solid stone space meant proper rooms were out of the question, but we made do with privacy screens and folding walls. The shower was little more than a perforated bucket hanging above a freestanding bathtub that sat next to a few barrels of collected rain water, but it cleaned me up all the same. And after a quick trip to the freestanding sink to brush my teeth and mane, I emerge fresh and renewed, ready for the day’s trials.

Well, I would be ready for today’s trials, if she weren’t still sleeping. So I head over towards her bell to rectify that problem.

A healthy stockpile of gold, gems, and other precious items poured out from the thick, slightly tarnished brass bell like a spilled cup, and on top of the treasure hoard, sleeping like a foal, was Cinder. The dark grey dragon snored like a sawmill, splayed out and displaying her belly scales for all the world to see, dark green in colour yet still a shade lighter than the scales of her body. Smirking, I take hold of a large golden dish and stride up towards her. Sadly, she stirs before I can ring it like a bell again, and her red eyes widen for a moment before narrowing along with her scowl, the only warning I get before she blows a small plume of orange-green dragonfire my way as a warning.

“Uh-uh, no,” she huffs. “You can screw right off, Zobachi.”

“Why yes, I did have a good morning,” I mock, smirk still intact. “Thank you for asking.”

“Tailhole,” she mutters, pausing to yawn and stretch out as she sits upright and cross-legged, developing a smirk of her own. “So which stallion tried to scope yours out this time?”

“None, actually.” I let the dish drop from my hold at this point, and it tumbles back to the bottom of the pile. “Had a mountain mare this time.”

“Lemmie guess, the short one with a major crush on you?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Do you have any idea how little that narrows it down?”

“Pfft, whatever.”

Cinder finally stands to her full measure, which was head-to-head with me in height without counting either her horns or the red, semi-serrated fin on her head. And given that I was a fairly large stallion already, that made her quite intimidating to most zebras that saw her. She gives her wings a few experimental flaps before floating up into the air, and by the time I turned around and stepped off of her hoard, she took her usual seat on my back, settling in for the walk back to Bandari as I make for the trapdoor leading back out.

“So who’re we shaking down this time, Z?”

“Let’s start with the food stalls, and work our way up from there.”

“Good, I’m starving here.”

“Zebrat got attacked?” Cinder spits more than speaks through her mouthful of bread.

“Apparently,” I confirm, pausing to bite into my round of pita as I continued to read the newspaper. “Seems a foreign army of some kind from across the ocean attacked it, right as all four of the Princes were together there for some kind of ceremony.”

“Snrk.” She doesn’t hide her amusement, and nor should she. “How dumb can you get?”

“I know,” I sigh, more disappointed than amused. “Shame, too. I would’ve loved to see the Empire be given a bloody snout for once.”

“Ah, well.” We both finish our breakfast at around the same time, and she returns to my back once she’s done. “Speaking of bloody snouts, we’d better get a move on, Z.”

“Patient as ever, I see,” I deadpan. “Fine. I suppose this crossword just wasn’t meant to be.”

“Less talking, more stealing!” she exclaims, smacking her heels against my marks.

Snorting with amusement more than annoyance, I take off from our spot atop a building overlooking the bazaar square, and start today’s work proper.

“Well, well, well,” Cinder hums next to me, a claw on my withers as we both look down into the alleyway beneath us. “Those’re some good marks to end the day on, wouldn’tcha say?”

We were both smiling like wolves at the sight beneath us: a drug deal in progress. A pair of fairly nervous and well-to-do mainlander stallions, both imperials, in the middle of haggling for their next hit of pink salt with some gangbangers from one of the big crime families. The one doing the deal was a lithe plains mare, acting flirtatious and aggressive as a clearly successful tactic to intimidate her marks. Flanking her were a pair of large and muscular imperial stallions serving as her protection, though she looked like she could handle herself in a fight just fine without them. The three criminals all wore the black, red, and yellow scarves of their gang—I forget which one, they’re all the same to me—patterned after a coral snake. And each of them had hoof-switchblades strapped to their fetlocks, ready to maim or kill anyzebra who dared to pick a fight with them.

Unfortunately for them, me and Cinder were more than a match for them.

“Which ones do you want?” I ask.

“The tourists,” she answers instantly, eyeing up their jewellery.

“Leaving the dangerous zebras to me again,” I sigh with insincere offence. “On three?”

“On three.”

“One, two, three.”

We both leap down into the alley, with Cinder opening her wings to slow her descent, letting me get the first strike. One of the larger gangsters broke my fall, and he barely had a chance to cry out before he was down for the count. As quick as a viper, I spin around to buck his neighbour into the wall before he can react, the force of my strike causing him to leave an indent in the wall before he falls to the ground with a stunned groan, losing consciousness almost immediately. True to her plains blood, the mare was very fast to react, spinning around with momentary surprise before narrowing her eyes and folding her ears in fury and recognition alike.

“You!” she growls.

I reply by way of my well-practiced and infuriating smug smirk. She responds in kind by flicking her hoofblade out and preparing to lunge. But in turning around, she failed to notice Cinder landing behind the two terrified mainlander tourists and breathing a huge plume of fire into the sky. The display made the two grown stallions shriek like schoolfillies and cling to one another, and the noise and light caused the gangmare to whip her head back around in alarm.

A costly mistake on her part, and I capitalized on the expected distraction by lunging towards her, my own agility an easy match for hers. Her head came back around just in time for my hoof to collide with her temple, and she cried out in pain as she tumbled back from the impact, her blade skittering across the ground. Somehow, she didn’t lose consciousness from that strike, and she attempted to dart back towards me, only for Cinder to fly up and punch her in the back of the head when she wasn’t looking. That took her out of the fight, bringing a swift end to the scuffle.

“Well, that was easy,” I sigh, giving my neck a crack. “Almost disappointing, if I’m being honest.”

“Hey, easy money’s easy money,” Cinder laughs, turning around to face the two terrified stallions and fixing them with a predatory grin. “Hey there, pretty colts. Come here often?”

While she shakes them down for their bits and valuables, I start searching the gangzebras for theirs. I pull a few bit pouches of a very healthy size and weight off of their unconscious bodies, tossing them into my saddlebags. While I’m at it, I also take the pouches of pink salt from the mare as well; I had no intention of using this garbage myself, but it always sold well, so it was still worth stealing. I finish my searching just in time to see Cinder chasing the stallions off with another gout of flame and an exaggerated roar, clutching a nicely sized bag of bits and other valuables.

“Good haul?” she asks, turning to me with her smirk intact.

“Good haul,” I echo in agreement, nodding her way. “Now let’s get out of here.”

“Let’s.”

After stuffing her bag into one of my saddlebags, she climbs onto my back again. Only this time, instead of sitting, her arms and legs clasp tightly around my barrel. She begins flapping her wings in fast, powerful beats, kicking dust and loose debris from the ground up as she begins lifting me up into the air. She groans with the strain of carrying so much weight, but doesn’t have to endure it for long: she stops her flight once we clear the top of the building, and I take that opportunity to land on the rooftops and begin the journey back home. She shifts to holding onto my neck in order to stay seated on my back as I gallop and jump across the rooftops, acting as a second pair of eyes and always on standby to help with any stretches that required a short flight. Luckily for her, I didn’t need the assistance this time. Before long, we arrive back at the bell tower without incident, just in time for the sun to begin setting.

“Whew, what a day!” she exclaims once we push past the belfry’s trapdoor, giving her limbs a good stretch. “You figure all this shit will be good for the next few days?”

“It better be,” I snort. “I’ll be very unhappy if I have to make a supply run during the storm.”

“Yeah, you and me both.”

Cinder unstraps my saddlebags and flies off to her hoard to add the bits and valuables to the pile, peeling off afterwards to add the pink salt to a separate, smaller pile of other pouches full of the illicit narcotic. Meanwhile, I take stock of the food and other supplies we’d stocked up on while out today; some of it I bought, some of it we both stole. According to the weatherzebra in the bazaar square, there was a huge freak storm coming that was supposed to bring nothing but pouring rain for the next day or two, and of course that meant everyzebra and their mother was in a rush to stock up for it.

If this were mainland Zebrica, I would enjoy the storms quite a bit. On Farasi, however? The rooftops were downright dangerous to run across when wet, and gang members and police forces would prowl the streets in force even during the rain, making travel all but impossible for a zebra as universally hated as me. A shame, too: some of our victims from today—mares and stallions alike—were quite fetching, and some were even eyeing me up when they thought I wasn’t paying attention. I’d have rather liked to bring one of them to a hideout, and have them do nothing but scream my name and beg for more the whole night.

But I suppose even in paradise, there’s always a snag or two. Though to be honest, I’d been really indecisive on picking between taking a mare or a stallion for the entire day. I suppose I could have gone all in and had both, but I simply couldn’t justify the work it would take, not after today. Besides, it’s nice to have a break every now and then: I’ve been meaning to catch up on some books anyways.

All in all? We’d stolen just over eight hundred bits, about eleven hundred more bits in jewellery and gems, and a solid seven hundred and a half bits worth of pink salt by my estimate, all over the course of twenty-nine muggings. An excellent haul for the day, it has to be said, especially when factoring in all the return trips and the supply runs.

However, my work isn’t quite done yet. While Cinder immediately flops onto her hoard and starts getting ready to sleep, I scale a small makeshift wooden spiral staircase off to the side that leads to the roof of the bell tower, up where the bell used to hang. Cinder had made the access hole by simply melting through the solid stone with her dragonfire, and with the exception of a few hoses running through it and down to the rain tanks, the hole was covered up with a weighted and oilcloth-covered wooden trapdoor to keep the weather out. The wind immediately buffets me as I climb onto the roof, but it’s far from the worst I’ve dealt with, so I pay it no mind and proceed to the telescope I put up near the edge that overlooked Bandari and the rest of the coastline facing Zebrica. The metal legs of the tripod stand were melted into the stone with Cinder’s help to permanently fix it in place, and eliminate the need to adjust the thing quite as much.

I stop to wipe the lenses down first before peering through the scope, and go down another mental checklist of things to observe. First was Bandari itself, with me checking the police compound and a few known gang hideouts for anything out of order before I moved on to the sprawling and spacious docks that Bandari was known for. Certainly, each town on the coast here had docks of their own, but Bandari was explicitly the major port town of Farasi, and handled most of it’s cargo and passengers as a result. And today’s observations of note are a passenger ship and two empty merchant vessels preparing to leave for the mainland, no doubt heading to Casabronco.

I would get to the easterly mainland port city later, but for the moment I scout out the rest of the Farasian coast for anything unusual. I pay extra attention to the other coastal “town” at Jela, at the far northern end of Farasi that still faced Zebrica. It’s port was a healthy size too, and reasonably active as well, but only because it exclusively served the enormous prison complex that Jela—and by association Farasi as a whole—was infamous for across Zebrica. Seeing no incoming or outgoing prison ships or supply barges, I go over the prison itself briefly, finding nothing particularly noteworthy beyond the usual confluence of corrupt prison guards allowing prisoners to escape, and the corrupt bounty hunters skulking around the escape routes to recapture the fools that weren’t part of the island’s major criminal groups.

Moving on, I turn back to the east to gaze across the steadily reddening sea, increasing the magnification to get a good look at the distant Zebrican mainland—Casabronco in particular. The city itself was built around a sizable enclosed bay, and ships constantly travelled to and from the enormous, busting port that covered nearly all of said bay’s coastline, with very few of the departing vessels bound for Farasi. Instead, most of those ships—particularly the merchant vessels—were leaving for the far-off port of Nanga, a much larger port that exclusively serviced Zebrat, the Empire’s capitol. The odd warship from the Casabronco coast guard patrolled around the entrance of the bay to ward off any Zhaaneph corsairs or kelpie pirates, but there wasn’t much of a police or martial presence beyond the mercenary warships some of the merchants hired to escort their ships. My eye turns towards the large, cobbled, and well-guarded land routes to Casabronco next, and it didn’t seem like there were any big caravans coming into the city tonight.

Finally, after scanning the far-off mainland coastline for any oddities as well, I turn the telescope back in the direction of Nanga to appraise the incoming storm front. Though it was too far away to properly examine even with maximum magnification, it only hammered home just how massive the system was. The tall, inky black clouds churned and boiled, eclipsing all that lay beneath them. The torrential downpour it brought to the land looked like a dark mist from the distance. And lightning coursed through the cloud in regular intervals, sometimes forking down onto the land and sea beneath it and providing very brief illumination to the blacked out lands beneath. Judging from the system’s speed, I estimate that it will make landfall here by either midnight or the dark of morning. Annoying, but not much I could do about it.

Strange, though. It wasn’t storm season yet, but that system was among the biggest systems I’d seen out here. It seemed to be moving against the wind, too. And every now and then, I swear I could see some lightning firing back from the sea into the cloud. Impossible, of course; it must be some kind of optical illusion. The storm is certainly an oddity, that was for sure. I only hope it doesn’t cause too much damage when it makes landfall.

Regardless, with all my sights seen for the day, I set the magnification back to normal and point the telescope back towards the floor to keep the lens from getting too dirty. And then, I slip on a pair of sunglasses, walk to the western side of the tower, and lie down near the ledge, gazing at the hot Zebrican sun as it sets into the perfectly flat, ocean-covered, and ever-so-slightly curving horizon. I let out a sigh that was equal parts pleased and relaxed as I took in both the last few rays of sunlight, and the majestic sight itself.

It’s hard to believe sometimes that we’ve only been on Farasi for a single year, yet it’s been one of the best years of our entire criminal careers, nevermind our lives. No longer did we worry about finding shelter out in the savanna or the desert, mugging armed travellers and guarded caravans, hopping from town to town to case them by day and rob them by night, or fleeing from the military forces that often policed those smaller inland towns. No longer did we have to juggle our heat with the Empire, the Zhaaneph, or the other smaller zebra factions that all claimed to be the true rulers of Zebrica. Here, we could simply ply our immoral craft in relative peace, away from the prying eyes and the intervention of the persistent Imperial Guard on one side, and the fanatical Zhaanephi Inquisitors on the other. Compared to them, dealing with Farasi’s criminal groups and the underfunded and corrupt local police was like dealing with yapping little puppies, as opposed to fully grown wolves out for blood.

For the first time, I was at peace. Peace with my surroundings, and peace with myself. Here, everyzebra was crooked, everyzebra knew it, and everyzebra was usually proud of it. I certainly knew I was.

The sun finally crested beneath the ocean, and for the briefest of moments, a green pillar of light flashed upwards from where it had set. Pleased that I caught the rare sight this time, I make one final check on the water collection basins and their hoses before heading back inside. Cinder was fast asleep by the time I got back, as usual, and I fixed myself something to eat from our new stockpile. Then it was off to the washroom to clean up before bed. I opt for a nice long bath, owing to Cinder remembering to heat the hot water tank this time around. Then it’s off to dry off, brush my mane and teeth, and take a good look at myself in the mirror for anything that was amiss, even though I knew she would have said something if there was.

I was a good size for a zebra, but that was hardly surprising, given my mixed heritage of plains and imperial blood: what little I lost in height and size from halving my imperial side, I made up for in agility from the plains side. My criminal lifestyle necessitated good fitness, and my muscles reflected that, my current regimen emphasizing endurance over the already considerable power and speed I had built up before coming here. My mane and tail, as usual, was straight, fairly long, well kept and conditioned, and when paired with my sharp jawline and good features, was the weakness of straight mares and bent stallions across the land, a fact I routinely took advantage of. As for my stripe patterns, I didn’t think them too noteworthy: long, thin, and densely packed straight lines encircled my barrel and legs, taking after my plains blood. The exception was my face, which was what most zebras distinguished by anyways. It took after my imperial side, the stripes that would normally adorn my muzzle and jawline for the other tribes having moved down along my neck and chest instead, leaving my lower face clear of any markings. My distinct feature, however, was the large, thick stripe that stretched across my eyes and ears like a blindfold, terminating into my maneline and darkening a wide fan of my mane from that connecting point outwards. It framed my bright, fiery yellow eyes exceptionally well, and gave my gaze a wonderful bit of extra contrast that helped to both intimidate many enemies and charm many lays.

Whoever my parents were, I certainly couldn’t fault them for their genetics.

With the nightly bout of narcissism concluded on a high note, I finally retreat to my very comfortable cot for the night, off on the opposite end of the belfry from Cinder to minimize the sound of her snoring.

It doesn’t take long for me to join her in the realm of sleep.

The air is deathly still and I hear nothing but tinnitus and my own breathing as I travel amidst the starlit dunes of the vast desert, heading straight towards the setting moon in the far distance. Every now and then I look back at the trail my hooves have left in the sand, stretching for a great distance. How long had I travelled this way? Where was I going? I did not know. I did not care. The moon finally crested beneath the horizon, and the yellow light of the sun began to glow across the dunes behind me. I felt no need to look back, even as it finally crested the opposite horizon and bathed everything in it’s harsh, burning light. The sand began to lightly glow and smoke with the intense heat, but I only noticed the soothing warmth of the rays upon my body, bringing a similarly warm smile to my face.

But then, I see something in the distance, off where the moon had set to give way to the scorching morning. Something rose from the moon’s spot, but it was clearly not the lunar body. It looked like a sun all unto itself, but was a pale metallic blue with a soft white centre, like a sun covered by an icy fog. I stop in my tracks and look on at the rising body, feeling a knot growing in my stomach. Large portions of the land beneath it begin to crack and fracture before sinking deep into the earth in sharp, perfectly cut pieces, only to come back up as bodies of dark blue water with great sheets and chunks of ice floating in it. The new terrain spread rapidly, as if conquering the desert landscape, and the frigid looking water began spilling across the sands that hadn’t been ripped out of existence yet: the vanguard to the invading reality.

Something was wrong here. Something was deeply, horribly wrong.

The light of the yellow sun at my back shrank back, as if in fear of the sudden competitor. It mirrored my own rising fear of the body as it’s uniform, harsh, and cool light swiftly overtook the burning yellow light. The air began to chill as the light sapped the heat rather than add it, the encroaching water coming ever closer in the distance. I knew in the pit of my stomach that this sun and it’s landscape heralded nothing but disaster for me. I felt a chill run down my spine as I felt the sun’s gaze settle upon me, as if noticing me for the first time. I begin stepping back as it’s white central mass wept bright blue energy, much like the yellow one wept burning yellow flame. But this time, the energy suspended itself in the air. It took shapes I couldn’t see from this distance. And then, in rapid succession, the shapes rocketed towards me.

I yelp and leap back in shock as a large sword of blue magical energy embeds itself in the sand before me, the blade burning the silica and melting it into white-hot glass from contact alone. A shortsword of the same energy lands to my left. It’s only when another blade of energy sails over my head with a heavy whoosh that I finally snap out of my shock, swiftly turning tail and breaking into a dead sprint. I run as fast as my legs will carry me, my heart hammering in my ribs and my breathing coming on quickly as both organs work overtime to fuel my muscles. All around me, more swords composed of that energy continue to impact the terrain from the sun’s clear attempts to kill me. I have to keep my eyes forward, ready to avoid any that impact ahead and block my path. The light from the sun becomes colder, brighter, and decidedly hateful in intensity, and the temperature falls dramatically to match, turning my breath into mist as it leaves my throat. And the weapons that fall vividly distort the air from their incredible heat, now contrasted to their icy surroundings.

I do not dare look back. My eyes are set only on the yellow sun, a frail ember of it’s former power, connected by the barest of yellow threads to the horizon. It waves, as if trying to beckon me to safety. I sprint towards it as fast as my legs will carry me. I can feel the remaining warmth of the air being sucked behind me, towards the ice water I can now begin to hear roaring from it’s rapid flow. Something deep in my soul warns me that looking back at the cold orb pursuing me, even for a second, will be the last thing I ever do. And so I continue to run. Even as the size and number of the weapons increases, my pace never slows.

Finally, I can see a small cave in the distance, inside of a small, sand-covered mountain that towered over the surrounding dunes. The yellow sun’s thread came from within it, swaying in the air. I redouble my efforts, ignoring the burning in my muscles and relying on pure adrenaline and mortal terror to carry me. The opposing sun’s weapons continue to rain down, only now it has added great spears of energy, attached to large chains that no doubt lead back to the sun, each pulling taut with the sound of hollow, ethereal jangling the moment the spears bite into the sand. It seems to know I am close to escaping it’s grasp, and I can feel the cold fury in it’s baleful light on my back. It would not suffer my existence, and there was no debate to be had with it. I knew it would not stop until I was dead. Or worse.

At the final stretch, the yellow sun intervenes on my behalf. It’s black core weeps with that bright yellow flame, just like the other sun. That power erupts forth, spewing great bursts of bright, almost iridescent yellow flame in random, chaotic arcs towards me in a wide cone, providing cover for my approach. The bursts leave small carpets of clinging flame on the sand as they detonate, which proves essential: the energy weapons dissolve and detonate with unearthly BANGS when they so much as graze the flames, leaving most of my path clear. Finally, I pass into the mouth of the cave. The sun follows closely at my back as if riding along, it’s presence wholly welcome. The weapons continue to impact overhead, and the sandstone walls of the cave tremble and crack at the force, the opposing sun unwilling to give up the chase.

Abruptly, the floor collapses underneath my hooves. I cry out as I enter a freefall into a massive, city sized cavern, a great lake of still, clear water far beneath. The yellow sun at my back illuminates the entire cave as I fall, creating a perfect reflection upon the water’s surface. In this reflection, I see the sun, and instinctively reach out towards it. My hoof ignites with the soothing yellow fire again, and as it travels along my body to blanket me in it’s warmth, I see the cavern ceiling breaking above me. Enormous blades of energy shred the ceiling into massive pieces that are ripped upwards with those chain-linked spears, creating an opening for the other sun to look down upon me, complete with a torrent of ice-filled water flooding down into the hole. But by the time it’s hateful gaze has settled back upon me, I was nearly at my destination, and it knew it couldn’t reach me in time. It’s hate expressed itself in it’s icy light, and the lake’s surface began freezing from the corners at a rapid pace, but still was not fast enough to stop my approach to the centre.

Defying perspective, I dive headfirst into the yellow sun’s reflection. I knew I passed the boundary of the water, yet no splash or impact came. Instead, my vision filled with bright yellow as I continued to fall. A bone-chilling, otherworldly blast of wind howls from behind me, briefly tinting my vision blue. And then I see nothing but white.

I’ve had exhausting nightmares many times before, but I haven’t screamed after waking from one of them since I was a teenage colt. This nightmare bucked that trend.

I only realize I had bolted upright once I fall back down onto my dampened sheets. Sweat poured from my pores and ran in rivulets down my coat as my heart hammered in my chest and my breathing came in heavy, ragged gulps. I’m not sure how long I laid there, staring up at the ceiling, trying to calm myself down. But once I become aware of the sounds of the thunder, the wind, and the rain outside, I shut my eyes and focus on the sounds, finding that my composure returned much faster with the sounds of nature as a focus.

Though my legs were slightly weak and wobbly from the experience, I still pull myself from bed with little issue. I light some lamps as I pace about, lost in my still-turbulent thoughts on what had just happened.

“It invaded my dream,” I mutter aloud, voicing my thoughts to nozebra in particular. “Like it was... looking for something. Looking for me.”

I still feel that sensation in the pit of my stomach: the anxious, fearful knots. My survival instincts scream at me, telling me I am still in danger.

“Calm down, Zobachi,” I attempt, taking a few breaths. “It was just a dream, like all the others.”

It wasn’t working. That primal urge to flee for my life persisted. Something was wrong. That nightmare really wasn’t like the others. It was too different. Too real. Too...

Familiar.

“No,” I immediately deny. “No, no, no, no, no. This was nothing like that time.”

It was exactly like that time.

I force myself over to one of the drape-covered, boarded-up slits in the belfry, determined to drown out the intrusive memory with the noise of the storm. But it was too late. Already I can feel my breathing quickening, my limbs trembling, and my sweating beginning again as the buried memory begins emerging and commingling with the recent one. Leaning a foreleg against the wall, I bury my face into my fetlock, trying to focus on nothing but the weather. That wasn’t working, either.

The sun was different. The light was different. The attacks were different. But everything else was the same.

“Damn it,” I mutter, losing the battle to keep calm. “Get a grip, Zobachi! It’s not like that time. This isn’t the mainland. They don’t have any reason to come here.”

I couldn’t get the memory out of my head. Of how I had hidden from him in mortal terror, as that same teenage colt at the orphanage. Of how he had mistaken another teen for being the one he was looking for. Of how he dragged the other colt into the desert, crying and begging that he hadn’t done anything.

My mind’s eye keeps picturing another one of them, dragging me or Cinder off next.

boom

My ears prick up at the sound. That wasn’t the booming of thunder. That sounded like...

boom
bang
BLAM

Explosions.

My ears flatten and my mouth turns dry as that urge to flee intensifies. It’s only by the barest of threads that I stay in control. I decide right then and there that the longer I try to deny what was happening, the more likely it was that me and Cinder would meet a terrible fate. And if I was wrong, then I was wrong. And by the Elysian fields, I hoped I was wrong.

Decision made, I let the instinct to flee motivate my movements, my first order of business being to wake Cinder. So I gallop over towards her hoard and immediately start shaking her awake.

“Cinder, wake up!” I hiss. “Wake up!”

“Mnnnnugh, what the shit?” she murmurs, becoming more agitated the more my shaking continues. “The hells is your problem, dude?!”

“My problem is that we’re in danger! Get up, now!”

She wasn’t expecting me to use such a sharp tone with her, and it helped rouse her quicker, obvious concern etched across her tired face. All the while, I kept an ear open for the sounds of the explosions, which were getting louder and closer. But it’s strange. It’s too close to be from the coast, but if it were from the town, I would see more light by now. It was like it was coming from...

Above?

KA-BOOM

Cinder bolts straight up into the air with a shriek, and I don’t fare much better. The ground shook a great deal with that explosion and knocked many of the lanterns to the ground, the light from the blast seen coming from the tower slits opposite of Bandari. I’ve never heard anything like it before.

“Whoaly shit, okay!” Cinder exclaims, landing back onto her hoard. “I’m awake now! Z, you wanna tell me what the unholy horseshit’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you once I figure it out myself!” I half-lie. “Get the emergency supplies together, we’re leaving now!”

With that, I scramble back to our supply pile to get ready while Cinder peels off to grab the emergency kit. I partly load my saddlebags with food and water, and she comes by just in time to finish loading them with medicine, bandages, light, and any other necessities that will fit. Her backpack—fashioned by herself but rarely used—was loaded up similarly, only she packed gems instead of normal food. She then brings out my rarely used cleated horseshoes, and wastes no time nailing them into my hooves. Two heavy grey oilcloth raincoats are draped over us, with a saddle stitched into mine and slits cut into hers for her wings. Finally, Cinder thinks fast and grabs a gold-plated spyglass from her hoard. And with that, we were finally ready to leave.

But first, I need to see precisely what’s going on out there first. Going onto the roof is impossible in this weather, so I opt instead to head to one of the slits in the belfry nearest to the explosion, where Cinder pulls one of the boards off to let me get a better look outside. We both look down at the obvious source of the blast, and both of us are just as confused by what we see.

It looked like a ship—an entire ship—fell from the sky and collided with the ground, but the vessel wasn’t like any ship I had seen before. It was covered in dark metal armour plates, and a large frame was built above the deck that held a massive, split-open balloon that billowed fire and some kind of deep blue electrical energy. The hull was pockmarked with craters from explosions and had been split open by the impact, and large bipedal white-haired creatures I’ve never seen before scurry about from the crash. They were wearing armour and brandishing weapons made of that same dark metal, and busied themselves with dragging their injured kin from the crash site. The more decorated beasts carried weapons that looked like bidents, which had some of that same blue electric power crackling between their prongs.

“What are those?” Cinder remarks.

“I don’t know,” I hum, frowning at their mere presence. “But I think it’s in our best interest to avoid them.”

And the direction they were moving made that rather difficult: they were headed straight for the bell tower, no doubt to use it as a fortification. Which means we don’t have much time before they cut us off.

“Let’s go, now. Before they get here.”

Cinder doesn’t protest, mantling onto my back and holding on as I open the trapdoor out of the belfry and run down the stairs. It takes me a moment to get used to the traction of the horseshoes, especially on the stone floor of the bell tower, but I’m very thankful for them once we step out into the drenched and muddy outdoors, the coat doing a wonderful job at keeping me dry.

“Any idea what the hells is going on, Z?” Cinder shouts above the now very loud sounds of the weather.

“We can swap theories once we’re in town,” I shout back. “We’ll hunker down in one of my hideouts.”

“I swear to the Dragonlord, those monsters better not touch my damn hoard! I just got it the way I like it!”

I let her rant, focusing only on the trek back to Bandari and the location of the nearest hideout. But I was under no illusions: I wasn’t running from those creatures, despite the danger they posed. I was running to avoid being caught by one of them. That fear kept my hooves moving, and before long, through the din of the heavy rain, the town limits come into sight.

“Holy shit,” Cinder mutters before raising her voice. “Dude, look up at the sky!”

A split second before she had said that, I saw streaks of red fire upwards from the direction of the sea and into the clouds, naturally drawing my gaze upwards. Though it was hard to see through all of the rain pouring onto my face, I saw red lights flashing from deep inside the pitch black clouds, and the thunderous booming of explosions in their wake that, indeed, I mistook for thunder while my eyes were elsewhere.

A louder staccato of explosions and the matching flashes of red ring out moments later, heralding another one of those strange balloon sky ships falling from the clouds in a ball of flame. It struck the coastline to the right of Bandari, near the lighthouse, kicking up a huge plume of steam and sand and shaking the earth enough to cause the lighthouse to topple over, adding another tremor to the ground.

My mind is awash with so many questions and precious few answers, but the overhead carnage only distracts me for a moment. Shaking my head, I resume my gallop towards Bandari, intent on reaching my closest hideout.

“Dude, this is nuts! What’s going—?”

“Later,” I hiss. “We’re almost in town. Play pretend!”

Cinder stifles her protest and responds accordingly. I feel her shuffle around on my back as she pulls her wings and limbs in, pulling her raincoat around herself and making it look like she is a large sack I am balancing on my back. Before long, I finally arrive at the outskirts of town. Unsurprisingly, there were plenty of zebras either standing in the streets or leaning out of their windows, transfixed by the skyward carnage that was unfolding. Others were in a state of panic about it all, frantically packing their bags and sprinting to and fro in small groups. Either way, it meant that for once, I was able to run down the streets without anyzebra paying attention to me, which sped things along quite nicely.

And then, halfway to my hideout in this part of town, the townzebras start to get frightened for an entirely different reason: the lines of heavily armoured and armed zebras marching up the main streets. Alarmed, I duck into a nearby alley, peeking out to observe them. They wore full sets of iron scale mail armour that covered all of their heads, necks, and barrels, and carried a mixture of spears, scimitars, crossbows, and even a few greatshields. But it was the blood-red cloth used for their distinctive neck scarves and thick battle saddles that gave them away as soldiers of the Imperial Legion.

I’ll ruminate on what the unholy hells they’re doing here when I’m not in imminent danger.

Remarkably, they weren’t paying attention to the frightened civilians, their eyes firmly fixed forward. Occasionally they would yell out for everyzebra to return to their homes immediately. Sensing an opportunity to slip through, I wait for a group of zebras to run by and weave myself into the small herd. The gambit worked, with nozebra giving me so much as a second glance as I peel off towards my hideout—another abandoned house, this time a badly damaged two-storey one—without any further complications.

It’s only once I get past the traps inside and reach the safe room on the second floor that I allow myself to catch my breath, planting my forelegs onto the run-down kitchen counter top and allowing myself to rest for a moment.

“Okay, we’re safe for now,” I exhale.

Cinder works quickly to untangle herself from her raincoat, throwing it to the side as she hops off of my back and looks up at me with a mixture of confusion, discomfort, and just a hint of fear.

“Dude, what the hells is going on out there?!” she exclaims. “What are those creatures? What’s the deal with those flying ships? Flying ships! And who’s shooting them outta the sky?”

Exhaling again, I pull my own hood back and wipe the water from my face. “The Imperial Legion, that’s who.”

She gets noticeably more nervous at the mention of the military force. “W-wait, seriously? There’s imps out there?”

“They’re already here. I had to sneak past a line of soldiers to get here.”

The ground trembles with another distant impact, and I can hear the panicked cries of the townzebras from their homes in response to it. Meanwhile, she peels off towards one of the boarded-up windows to see for herself if I was telling the truth about the soldiers. Judging from that gasp she made, I’d say she indeed did see for herself.

“Holy shit, dude,” she quietly exclaims.

“Nevermind the troops themselves. Where are they going?”

“Uh, well, l-lemmie see...” She whips out her golden spyglass to get a look. “Uhh, they’re... Wait! Our tower! They’re headed there!”

“The tower?” I question. My first thought was that they were there for me, but after seeing those beasts and their strange sky ships, I’m not so sure anymore.

“Dude, come over here!” she exclaims, waving me over. “Those weird monsters, they’re fighting it out with the troops! Come look!”

Is that what’s going on here? A theory begins to develop in my mind as I canter over towards Cinder, and the theory begins to crystallize as I take the spyglass and look out at both the tower, and the land at it’s base.

A line of legionnaires has formed up into a tight semicircle around the base of the tower, protected up front by the zebras with greatshields. The monsters occupying the tower covered the entrances with large shields of their own, and it didn’t take a tactician to figure out that their superior weapons, hulking size, and bipedal nature gave them a significant advantage against the attacking zebras, beyond their obvious combat training. From the belfry, bolts of blue electric power rained down onto the legionnaires, fired from the bidents carried by those decorated beasts. The bolts impacted against the greatshields with little effect, no doubt thanks to all the alchemy those shields had been marinating in for Elysium knows how long. Unfortunately for the Legion, the bident-wielding beasts knew to fire at the exposed points in their ranks, electrocuting the troops and putting them down for the count.

“Isn’t that wild?” Cinder exclaims, her excitement over seeing a fight overshadowing her unease, if only for this moment. “They’re kicking their tails, too!”

“The Zebrat attack,” I blurt, the dots finally connecting in my head.

“Er, what?”

“I know what’s going on, now,” I continue, lowering the spyglass and giving Cinder my full attention. “You remember that paper we read about that attack on Zebrat from a foreign army?” When she nods, I gesture to the distant tower with my hoof. “Meet the foreign army.”

“Wait, these guys?” she splutters. “I-I mean, I guess that qualifies as foreign, but... damn, dude.”

“Honestly? They look like they probably could have taken Zebrat. But...”

“The damn Princes were there already, yeah, I know.” She sighs, sounding quite disappointed. “Man, that sucks! So what, they’re attacking here now?”

“No. Not attacking. Running.”

Prolonged flashes of light briefly draws our attention to the window again, where we both look out to see a flare signal being fired from the top of the bell tower. Bringing the spyglass up, I see a ring of those bident-wielding beasts on the roof, the blowing wind barely affecting them at all as they point their weapons up to the sky. Streams of electric power fire from their bidents’ tips and into the clouds, bringing down a swirling vortex from the storm above, bristling with lightning. I give the scope to Cinder to see the display for herself.

“Man, that’s cool,” she murmurs, though noticeably annoyed. “If only they weren’t doing this cool shit on our tower! They’ve totally touched my hoard, too!”

“Like I said,” I continue, ignoring her commentary, “They’re not attacking us. They’re running away. I’ll bet you anything that flare they used was a call for evacuation.”

“Why bother running?” she snorts. “They’ve got this shit on lockdown!”

“It’s not the imps they’re running from,” came my deathly serious response.

“Huh?” She pulls away from observing the bell tower being enveloped by a tornado, looking to me instead. “Then what are they running from?”

It’s in that moment, as I open my mouth to tell her, that I feel the temperature drop by several degrees. A cold shiver runs down my spine, stealing the words from my mouth. And it wasn’t because of the cold.

“Whoa,” she remarks with a slight shiver of her own. “Did it just get colder, or—”

“Shh!”

That came out more fearful than I intended. Or perhaps exactly as fearful as I intended. Either way, Cinder fell silent. I turn my eyes slowly towards the streets full of soldiers, my mind slowing the movement of my eyes as if refusing to confirm what I already knew was happening. I saw the soldiers no longer marching, but bowing before something approaching down the street behind them. Somezebra behind them.

That zebra steps into view.

I can feel my heart lurch the moment I see my very worst fear in the flesh. One of them.

One of the Four Princes.

I barely register just how deathly silent Cinder got when she sees the royal for herself as well. This Prince was clearly different than the one from my colthood, but his presence was no less mortifying. He was, like myself, a large plains-imperial hybrid, and his entire body up to his neck was covered in the distinct armour—weathered iron plates interwoven with red cloth, set atop chainmail under-armour—that immediately gave away which Prince this was.

Prince Zabraxas.

Surrounded by four of his highly decorated honourguards, he maintained an easy walking pace. His face was stony as he stared towards the storm-cloaked tower, but the look in his harsh, icy blue eyes betrayed exactly what he was feeling.

Fury. Anger. Cold, unyielding wrath.

He stops for a moment, lifting his hoof in a silent order to hold position. I feel an inexplicable pressure in the air moments later, and the entire environment around him begins to freeze, the rain turning to hail and the water at his hooves freezing into ice in a metre-wide radius around him. I could see blue energy begin to crackle from his legs. And then, he breaks into a dead gallop towards the tower with speed that shouldn’t be possible for even the fastest of plains zebras to have, leaving a trail of frost in his wake.

“No way,” I hear Cinder murmur. She sounded stunned more than frightened.

Though it was hard to see without the spyglass, I still looked on, transfixed by the speeding royal. He leapt over the semicircle of now retreating troops, and began his own attack immediately after landing.

Great spears of blue magical energy phased out of his back and launched towards the tower, connected to large chains of that same energy. Illuminating the entire tower with just their ambient light, they effortlessly impaled the tower’s body and the belfry alike, the chains pulling taut moments after impact and completely ignoring the swirling winds that protected it. A greatsword of energy phased from his back next and floated up into the air, cloaked in steam from the rain. Raising his hoof to the sky, a stream of bright blue energy snaked from that hoof and poured into that floating greatsword, rapidly increasing it’s size until it was as thick as the tower itself. With one swift swipe, that blade cleaved through the base of the tower with the ease of a hot knife cleaving through butter, the stone glowing red hot from the slice. It did not stop there, spinning through the air to maintain it’s unbroken momentum as it continued slicing the tower into pieces, even as the chains began pulling the now unanchored structure to the earth. The tower toppled over and crumbled into a pile of rubble, and I could feel the deep, reverberating THUMP of the impact as much as I could hear it from here, shaking loose objects in the house around from the force. The greatsword continued to float under it’s own power, slashing and stabbing at the tower’s base with precise movements, the enormous weapon wielded with the finesse of a surgeon wielding a scalpel.

They’re exactly like from my dream.

An intact flying ship chooses that precise moment to descend from the cloud cover, on an intercept course towards the signal it received minutes before. Far too late to rescue their compatriots. It begins to turn around, trying to manoeuvre it’s bulk back towards the sky, but it’s far too slow. The great energy sword points upwards and launches straight towards the fleeing vessel, clearing the distance in a matter of seconds and burying itself in the balloon. And with one last swipe, it cleaves downwards and straight through the ship, bisecting the entire vessel lengthwise. The energy blade dissipates in a cloud of blue particles as the two halves of the ship fall to the ground, burning and detonating long before they hit the ground with a pair of thunderous crashes.

I fall back onto my haunches as the troops below erupt into cheers. Cinder continues to stare slack-jawed at the sight, and only now do I notice she was using the spyglass to observe the entire thing. I can’t speak. I can barely think. All that’s in my mind is the foggy mental tinnitus of cold, heart-stopping terror.

“Z?” I hear her speak, but her voice seems so distant. “Z, come on, snap out of it!”

My mind is gripped with images of Zabraxas chasing us down. Catching and wounding us in a thousand different ways. Heading off any attempt to escape from—

SLAP

“Agh!” The world snaps back into focus at the sudden pain, and I scowl up at Cinder. “What are you—?!”

SLAP

“Ah! Stop it!”

“I’ll stop once you’re done shutting down on me!” she fires back. “Stay with me here, Z! Focus!”

“Focus? Focus?! Do-do you have any idea who’s out there? What’s out there?!”

“Yeah, a big scary Prince with big scary Prince powers.” I can hardly believe it: she’s rolling her eyes, like this wasn’t a huge deal! “This isn’t my first time dealing with one of those tailholes, Z.”

A halted noise is all I manage as her words halt the ones in my throat. Comprehension dawns on me as that brief shard of memory filters into my awareness. She’s right: this wasn’t her first time dealing with a Prince. It wasn’t even the first time a Prince destroyed her home.

Dissatisfied with my lack of reaction, she goes in for another slap across my face. This time, I block it with my hoof.

“Enough!” I exclaim, pulling myself back onto four hooves. “I’m here, damn it!”

“Finally,” she grunts, evidently annoyed with me. “Here enough to think?”

My head shakes with disbelief. “You are far too relaxed about a Prince being here.”

“And you’re way more shit-scared of these pretty colts than you should be.”

“No,” I sigh, rubbing my eyes. “I’m exactly as shit-scared as I should be.”

“Riiight. Anyways, first things first.” She grabs my withers and looks me dead in the eyes. “Z, did you know this guy was coming?”

“I...” I swallow dry. “I knew a Prince was coming.”

“So you dreamt about him?”

“I-I did,” I nod. “Just like when—”

“I know the story.” She interrupts with a nod. “You knew he was coming, so you woke me up and got us the hells outta there. Right?”

“Right.”

“Right. Thanks for that, by the way.”

Cinder’s total irreverence and her borderline superpower of remaining cool under pressure always surprised me, especially in horrid situations like this. Despite everything, she still wore her cocky little smile.

“All settled down now?” she presses.

“Not really, no,” I admit. “But enough to think clearly. I think.”

“Good enough. Now what’s the theory here? That royal tailhole sure as shit didn’t bring all this to find you.”

“He didn’t,” I agree, quickly recalling the puzzle I’d pieced together. “He’s chasing these foreigners out of Zebrica, and brought a huge Legion fleet to help him do it.”

“Yeah, and seeing all the weird sky ships that keep dropping, I’d say he’s doing a real good job of it.”

“Of course he is,” I huff. “This is Zabraxas we’re talking about.”

“All the same to me,” she dismisses. “Any other Princes with him I should know about?”

“No,” I quickly confirm, shaking my head. “No, he’s the only one here. I’m sure of it.”

She sighs in relief. “Well, that’s something, at least. Now, what’s the plan?”

“You think I have a plan for this?!”

“No, but I do think you can come up with one nice and quick. C’mon dude, you’re the brains here.”

“Touching,” I deadpan, drawing a snicker from her. Regardless, I sigh and rub my forehead, trying to think of a plan to get out of this mess. That process gets quite a bit faster when she digs through my saddlebag to give me a food ration.

She always knows what to do in the heat of the moment, doesn’t she?

While I sit down and busy myself with thinking, eating, and recovering my energy, she heads back to the window with her spyglass to keep an eye on things. It’s always been this way with us; I plan, she acts. I have my thoughts, she has her instincts. Quite the combination. In a way, this felt like business as usual, like planning yet another caravan heist or store robbery, just with very different stakes. It was... comforting, in that way.

Okay. Onto the plan.

“Well,” I sigh, “I know what we have to do, just not how we’re going to do it.”

“Hide until this blows over?” she offers.

“No. Escape Farasi and run back to the mainland.”

“Wait, escape? You want to go back there?”

“Not at all. But we don’t have a choice.”

“The hells do you mean, we’ve got no choice? Dude, that Prince isn’t here for you, he’s here for them! Heck, he’s still down there, shooting laser swords into the sky, bringing down more sky ships! Once they’re gone, he’ll just clear out and leave this shithole!”

“No, he won’t. Even if he didn’t know I was here, and wasn’t planning on killing or capturing me, I need to stress again that this is Zabraxas we’re talking about. Probably the worst possible Prince that could have come here.”

“Worst how?”

“Elysium help me,” I groan from behind my facehoof. “I know you don’t give a shit about the Princes, but I do.”

“Right,” she snorts with laughter. “That’s why I keep you around!”

I snort with annoyance. “Anyways. He’s called the ‘cold blade of justice’ for a damned reason: he’s the one Prince that actually gives a shit about law and order, justice and punishment, and all of that nonsense. Even if I wasn’t a factor in all this, he’d be compelled to stay behind and clean this place up regardless. His damn code won’t let him do any less.”

Cinder finally looks over at me.

“So what’s that all mean?”

“It means he’s not leaving Farasi until every single zebra that even thinks about crime is thrown into a prison cell.”

She laughs once again. “Dude, that’s like, all of Farasi!”

“Yes. It is.”

My tone carries no trace of jest, and neither does my expression. And as the seconds drag on, her amusement withered away and died as my words set in.

“Y-you’re serious?”

“I am deadly serious. He will do it.”

“Even if it takes weeks?”

“Even if it takes years,” I qualify. “You really should give more of a shit one of these days. If you did, you’d know this is the same stallion that took Zuul’raan. By himself.”

She pales a bit at the mention of the former Zhaaneph stronghold turned Imperial fortress. The same stronghold that her fellow dragons couldn’t destroy. And they tried. Really, really hard.

“Okay,” she nods quickly. “We get the hells off of this rock, and fast. Gotcha. Loud and clear. Any ideas?”

“That’s the hard part,” I huff. “Ignoring the freak storm out there, there’s going to be a whole damned armada of Legion warships out there. Once these foreigners are chased out, they’ll turn those ballistae of theirs towards patrolling the isle.”

“And all those troops down there, you figure he’ll use them to help clean this place up?”

“He absolutely will. Honestly, I think you’re right when you said it would take weeks. Only weeks.”

“Shit, then we don’t have much time,” she curses, going back to observing the outside world.

“We don’t,” I agree. “One way or another, we’ll need to cross the sea. But I have no idea how we’re going to do it. Boats won’t work: the storm’s too strong for that, the docks will be crawling with soldiers, and the fleet will absolutely spot us after the storm’s gone, night or day.”

Seeing in the dark is very possible with mountain alchemy. Knowing the Legion, they’ll have stocked up on the potions for that, and will have alchemists on hoof to make more.

“Not like we can fly, either,” she sighs. “I mean, I can make the trip. But uh, your heavy flank weighs too much. No offence.”

“Fly,” I mutter, mulling the thought over. Flight. Could that be a possible solution here? No, no, I don’t think so. It’s a novel idea, but far too much can go wrong with it. Ships are going to be a problem, but they’re the only means I can think of that can get us across the water. But not through the blockade. That’s not counting the fact that most ships aren’t built to handle extreme weather like the warships are.

Wait. Most ships...?

ding

I spring to my hooves as the hacked-together plan of escape begins falling into place in my mind.

“I’ve got it,” I exclaim.

“Finally,” she laughs. “Crazy plan, I assume?”

“This is a crazy situation.”

“True enough. Where to?”

“The fishing town on the other side of the isle.”

“All the way there? What for?”

“The trawlers,” I continue. “They’re big, metal-hulled ships, built to withstand storms like this. And they can sail for days out on the open ocean. We’ll steal one while the storm’s still here, sail it out into the ocean, and curve it back around to the mainland.”

“I mean, that works, I guess. But still, that’s a long run.”

“It is. Over half an hour at an easy trot, in fact.”

“Fiiine,” she sighs dramatically. “I hate long runs.”

“The sooner we leave, the better. Now come on.”

With a dramatic groan, she pulls herself from the window and dons her raincoat again, while I make sure everything in my bags is accounted for.

“Streets are all cleared out now, by the way,” she adds. “Don’t think we can take ‘em again.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

With that, I head to the roof access ladder and push my way past the trapdoor, with Cinder following close behind. The wind flips my hood back the moment I stick my head out, but she’s nice enough to flip it back down once we’re both up. Then, she climbs onto my back once again, holds on tightly, and I begin leaping between rooftops again, the cleats invaluable in providing traction for this stretch of the journey; normally, I would be worried about the noise and damage they cause, but with the rain as intense as it is, my loud hoofsteps were completely drowned out. Before long, we leave the city without raising any alarm, and begin the trek towards the fishing town. She dismounts once we’re away from prying eyes, and we both maintain an easy pace side-by-side to preserve our energy.

Off to the side, I see the blue energy blades of Zabraxas floating up, fed with streams of power, and growing massive before being launched into the clouds at regular intervals, just like Cinder said. It was a constant reminder for me to stay on guard and keep my eyes open at all costs, unless I wanted him to catch us and...

I shake my head to try and dislodge the intrusive thoughts. It’s only somewhat effective.

“What’s up?” Cinder remarks.

“Just trying not to think of what he’ll do to me if he catches us,” I reply.

“Well keep thinking about the damned plan, instead!”

“Honestly, that isn’t much better,” I groan. “Gods, it’s awful. I mean, I know I came up with it in only a few minutes, but it’s just so shit.”

“Then keep making it less shit, because it’s the best we’ve got right now.”

“Yes. It is.”

Unfortunately.

Still, it’s all I can do to pass the time and keep my thoughts away from the nearby Prince. With only my prior long distance observations to work with, all I could do was think around possibilities and happenstance instead of the facts and certainties I would strongly prefer. It threatens to become a counterproductive rumination in it’s own right, but at least it’s much easier to corral those thoughts than my ever-present fear of the Princes.

Eventually, the town comes into view. The lights are on in many of the windows, no doubt from all the zebras gawking at the sights. But that fact alone told me that the Legion hadn’t gotten here yet. Though the relief I feel at that fact is palpable, I do my best to temper it, knowing that we were still a long ways away from being free of danger. We approach a more unoccupied section of the town where nozebra could see us, whereupon Cinder once again climbed onto my back, flew me up to the nearest rooftop, and from there I began my trek towards the docks.

Once we’re in a position to overlook the docks, I’m relieved once again to see the vessels I am thinking of are present, accounted for, and most importantly, unoccupied. Though sadly, not unguarded. There were still some zebras loitering on the docks that would no doubt raise a fuss if I tried to board one of the trawlers now.

“Hmm,” Cinder pipes up, no doubt having picked up on the issue. “You know, I could totally glide this gap.”

“Mmm,” I concur, tracing a curving path to the side of a nearby ship with my hoof. “Think you can glide that path, and avoid us getting seen?”

“Easiest glide of my life,” she scoffs, as boastful as ever.

With that settled, I retreat a few buildings back to get a running start, while Cinder grabs onto my barrel and gets ready to fly. Sprinting and jumping as fast as I can, my final jump off the side of the building is aided by a powerful flap of her wings, giving it much more height. Once airborne, she extends her wings and glides us towards the ship, our cloaks billowing out as we go. Though the torrential downpour and my heavy weight definitely caused us to quickly lose altitude, our excellent running start and high jump meant that we were just able to reach the deck by the time we were in the final stretch. Mercifully, my hooves make relatively little noise as they reach out with the motions of a canter in mid-air, until connecting with the deck and turning into an actual canter that I slowly ramp down into a slow walk in order to further minimize the noise our landing made.

“Nailed it!” she quietly cheers, complete with a fist pump. “Oh, we’ve so got this, dude!”

“Let’s make this quick,” I mutter, already headed for the hatch below deck. “We’re pushing our luck as it is.”

It’s been a long time since we’ve stolen a ship, but from the way Cinder was moving around, I’d swear it was only yesterday for her. She flew quickly all around the lower decks, getting things started for departure. While she does that, I head to the enclosed captain’s nest above deck and go over the checks required for departure. The steam boiler for the engines was still cold, and under normal circumstances, that would take upwards of half an hour to get working again. With Cinder, however, she could get that boiling in only a few minutes.

One of the many advantages of having a draconic partner in crime.

boom
blam

My ears pivot to the sound of nearby skyward explosions, and as I turn around and look up, I see...

“Oh, you’ve got to be joking!”

Another damaged and burning sky ship was falling from the ground, this time headed straight for the town. Already I could hear the townzebras panicking outside as it made it’s slower than usual descent, it’s balloon still partially inflated and slowing the fall, but evidently with no ability to steer.

I bolt back to the hatch below deck and begin shouting down to her. “Hit the deck!”

KA-BOOM

The blast wave sends me flying through the air for a moment, and when I do land back on the deck in a heap, the deck itself sways violently along with the rest of the ship, just as jostled by the impact as I was. Scrambling back upright, I see a plume of fire billowing from the coast, very near to where we were. The ship had just barely missed the town.

But it’s not long before I notice the sounds of zebras fighting, along with the grunts of creatures I can only assume are those invading foreigners. Managing to reach the railing, I confirm the sight with my own eyes: a large number of those strange creatures were coming from the ruined sky ship, still in good fighting condition and working their way into the town.

“Holy shit!” I hear Cinder call out from below deck. “Dude, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I shout back. “Get us started, now!”

“On it!”

I scramble my way back to the captain’s nest to double-check that the blast hadn’t thrown anything off. By some small miracle, everything seemed to still be in order, and already I could see the steam pressure gauge begin to crawl upwards. Pulling a utility blade from my pack, I run back out onto the deck and begin slicing some of the ropes that bound us to what remained of the wooden docks. There, I see the path the creatures were taking.

They had the same idea as us. They were heading for the trawlers as well, no doubt to continue fleeing by sea.

“Oh, for the love of...!”

I don’t get a chance to finish cutting the ropes. Grappling hooks of that same dark metal are thrown up and onto the deck, far too many for me to cut. All I can think to do is head back below deck to warn Cinder of this development, and I rush back down through the hatch to do just that, seeing her without her coat or pack on and working hard at breathing fire onto the increasingly glowing-hot steam boiler.

“Those creatures are boarding the ships!” I call out.

She pauses to breathe normally before addressing me. “What do you mean, boarding?”

“As in, grappling hooks!”

We both hear the thumping of their feet up above on deck. My mind races and my eyes dart all around, trying to think of a solution to this new and completely unexpected problem. But my eyes stop on Cinder, who adopted a thoughtful expression with a matching hum.

“Hey Z, I’ve got an idea,” she hums, flying her way back towards the hatch.

“What are you doing?!” I hiss, trying my best to stay quiet.

“Relax,” she chirps, briefly turning to flash me a smile. “I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

That doesn’t fill me with any amount of confidence. In fact, it’s filling me with the complete opposite of confidence. But very little can stop Cinder when she gets one of her ‘good feelings’, and she’s too far away for me to physically hold back regardless. Which left her free to throw the hatch wide open and fly up onto the deck.

“Hey, what’s up, guys?” she called out, friendly as can be.

I could hear every creature on the deck whip around to face her, synchronizing nicely with my stomach dropping damn near out of my barrel. She deftly flips back down when a pair of spears thrust towards where she was standing, and flies back on over towards the steam boiler as the foreigners begin charging down the steps to pursue. I, meanwhile, took cover behind a few nearby crates, peeking out to see exactly what kind of madness had decided to claim her this time.

She leaned against the cooling boiler as casually as possible, admiring her claws with her free hand as the beasts rushed down to surround her in a tight semicircle, spears and electrified bidents at the ready. Cinder never once looked intimidated by them: she was the perfect picture of confidence and control, and kept her cocky smile the entire time.

“Rocky start to our relationship, but hey, I’ve made friends on shakier grounds than this,” she opened. “Now, do you any of you boys understand the words that are coming out of my mouth? Go on, nod if you do.”

The beasts begin to look confused, looking towards one another. But one of the more decorated bident wielding beasts comes forth, nodding his acknowledgement.

“Oh, so you’re in charge?” She continues when she gets a nod back. “Good. Now here’s the score. I want off this damn island as much as you guys do. That Prince out there has a way of driving off girls like me. But sadly for you,”—she raps her knuckles against the boiler, creating a slightly hollow echo—”These ships take a whole half hour to start up from cold.”

The monster leader’s eyes widen in response to this. Judging from the lack of a reaction from the others, I’d say none of them understand a word of Zebrikaans.

“Now, we could fight each other and let that pesky little Prince throw us both into the Black Gulch, and trust me, you do not want to wind up at Black Gulch. Or, we could help each other out. See, I can get this ship started nice and quick for you. Only takes a few minutes.”

She exhales a small gout of dragonfire to prove her point. Lowering his bident, the leader grunts something in a language I don’t understand to the others, and they in turn lower their weapons. He then gestures to Cinder to continue, while I sit there slack-jawed at the entire scene.

“Here’s how this is gonna work. Z, come out already. Get your tail over here!”

Exasperated, I do just that, stumbling out towards her. The beasts briefly turn their weapons to me, but their leader growls at them to stop, allowing me to stand next to her.

“Me and my best buddy here,”—she wraps an arm around my neck—”Also need to escape that guy. So how about we work together here, and get as far away from this place as we can? I help you start this ship up, and in return, you guys help keep the Empire off our backs, and get us someplace nice and safe. How’s that for a good deal?”

I’m still in shock at just how composed and confident she is. Indeed, the foreigners’ leader looks taken aback by her performance as well. But after a moment’s thought, the creature’s posture slouches to reluctant acceptance, and the grunt he gives in response has the tone to match. He begins grunting at his underlings and waving them off, and like proper soldiers, they obey their commands immediately in spite of their surprise, with most of them returning above deck. Their leader grunts something at Cinder, and even though I know for a fact that she doesn’t understand this language, she responds as if she does.

“Of course he knows how to drive this thing!” she laughs, patting me with her holding arm. “We’ll be outta here in no time! But just so you know,” Her tone becomes lower and more dangerous, and she levels a smile-laden glare at the commanding creature. “If you or your troops so much as breathe on my friend here the wrong way, it won’t be the Prince you’ll have to worry about. Get the picture?”

Even when smaller and younger, a dragon was still a dragon, and even this large, hulking creature wasn’t immune to their intimidation. He nods after a tense moment of clenching his weapon, and then grunts something else, gesturing back towards the hatch.

“Alright Z, you heard the guy.”

“Wh-huh?”

With an annoyed groan, she lets go of me and gives me a shove. “Are you driving this boat, or what? Go on, get! I’ve got things handled here!”

Blinking in confusion, all I do is sigh and start walking. I am... so done trying to understand what’s going on here. The leader doesn’t follow, and when I come back up above deck, I see the other creatures leaning over the railing, pulling their friends up from the docks while the others stand guard. Wanting no part of their activities, I focus on heading for the captain’s nest again, doing my best to ignore the two beasts standing guard inside as I work to get the ship started. The steam pressure was rising quickly, and in only a minute or two, we have enough power to start the engine, which I do right away.

The ship thrums to life underhoof and begins lurching forward as the propellers come to life. Looking back, I see a great deal of beasts aboard now, and briefly wonder if that was all of them from the wreck. Some of them were injured and unable to do much other than lie down, but others made themselves useful, undoing the rest of the ropes that kept the ship moored to the docks and allowing us to finally begin moving. With Cinder hard at work, the steam pressure kept on climbing in spite of the heavy load I was putting onto the throttle, allowing us to accelerate very quickly. Before long, we were entering cruise speed, heading straight ahead and into the open ocean.

It’s in that moment that I make a terrible mistake. I start to relax. I start to hope. I start to think that I’m finally out of danger, out of the clutches of both Empire and Prince alike.

The alarmed grunt-shouts of the beasts dashed those hopes as soon as they came. When I turned to see what the commotion was about, those hopes were ground to a fine powder.

A trail of frost leading from Zabraxas’s last location was briefly seen in a flash of lightning, but no lightning was necessary to see the Prince himself on the move, illuminated by an arc of smaller blades hovering over his body as he bolted with that unnatural speed towards the ailing town we had just departed. Though things were too far to see in detail, I knew there were still beasts left back there, and those blades of his flew off to strike them down. He makes it to the docks, jumping onto one of the ships still there. A massive blast of frost billows out from the deck and envelops the entire vessel in a massive cloud of mist, and through it, I could see both the ship and the patch of ocean it was tossing in frozen solid. He leapt to the other ships immediately after freezing that one, giving them the same treatment. And with a few last energy swords fired off into the city, I knew he had defeated the beasts there.

I swear I could feel him looking in our direction next. Looking at me. Renewing his arc of blades, he leapt into the ocean next. But instead of diving into the waters, the ocean froze before he could strike it, allowing him to land on solid ground. He broke into a dead run, patches of ocean freezing in front of him and breaking apart behind him as he sprinted, heading straight for us.

Heading for me.

I abandon the ship controls, bolting back across the deck and down into the hatch below before he can get here. Nothing else was important at this point. Self-preservation was my only thought now. Cinder barely has a chance to react as I unsuccessfully try to skid to a stop in front of her, hitting her instead and sending us both to the floor.

“Ow! What the shit, dude? Get back up and steer this—!”

“He’s here!” I cry out.

groooooooooan

The entire ship lurches and the hull grinds all around, as if the ship were forcefully running aground. Running aground on ice. The machinery grinds in protest and begins to fail, with steam pipes bursting all around to show for it. I hear the alarmed grunts of the foreigners up above deck, and some of them run down the hatch, trying to escape what was to come.

A loud thump of a landing sounds out on the deck. Following it was an intense blast of cold, a bone-chilling blast of misty wind howling down the open hatch.

It sounded exactly like the wind from the end of my dream.

“Shit,” Cinder sighs.

This is it. I’m going to die here.

He’s going to see me for what I am, and he’ll kill me for it.

“Welp. Guess you’re the only one getting outta this, huh?” I hear her words, but don’t register them. “Sorry about this, Z. Just play along, all right?”

Awareness returns to me when I feel Cinder pinning me down. I see her flash me an apologetic wink before her face contorts into faux anger, followed by her raising her fist.

And then she starts hitting me. Hard.

Where I was once paralyzed with terror, I was now paralyzed with shock.

“Teach you to screw with me, shit for brains! Huh? Not so tough now, are you?!”

She was striking hard enough to bruise and concuss. She was aiming it all at my head. And she was not holding back.

“Yeah! That’s what you get! You should’ve—”

ZWOOSH

Cinder was batted away with a blade of blue energy. I think I hear her hit the wall with a grunt. I can’t really do much of anything at the moment. My head is spinning, I can taste blood, and I’m fairly certain my snout was broken. About all I can do is groan and cough.

“Hmph.” A new voice. It was deep. Male. Unemotional.

My body doesn’t obey my commands. Everything looks blurry, and darkness starts creeping into the corners of my vision. But something moves into the cone of my declining eyesight regardless. It’s a zebra. One with icy blue eyes. They almost looked like they were glowing.

“Easy, citizen,” the voice continued. “You are safe now.”

My body goes slack, and everything slips into darkness.

I am falling.

Nothing but utter black surrounds me. No features to be found in the void.

I can barely think. I don’t remember anything. I have no energy to cry out. All I do is continue to fall endlessly, with nothing but the resistance of the air to keep me company.

Something bright yellow below me breaks up the black monotony. I can’t bring myself to care. Not even as it gets closer and closer. It’s flaming tendrils reach out to me, but even that fails to get a response.

I zoom past the large, burning orb. I feel something wrap around my hindlegs. My movement arrests all of a sudden, leaving me dangling in the vast nothingness. But through the haze of my total apathy, the development is enough only to draw my eyes towards it. There, I see it’s appendages of flame drawing me up into it’s body, many centimetres at a time.

It feels so... familiar. So warm. So comforting. Though my weakened body was leaden and heavy, my foreleg moves up to reach towards it. The action is conscious, yet automatic, as if trained. As I reach it, yellow flame courses along that foreleg, wrapping my body in it’s embrace soon thereafter.

As I burn, the exhaustion abates. My awareness returns. And worst of all, my memory scorches back into the forefront of my mind. With it comes the fear.

The fear of the other sun.

Remembering myself, I take the sun’s offered appendages and quickly climb my way towards it’s dark core. It eagerly plunges me into it’s own void. From there, all fades to yellow. All fades to white.

“—counts of caravan robbery, sixty-one counts of store robbery, a hundred and eighty-seven counts of pickpocketing, a hundred and nine counts of assault—”

I wake with a start, adrenaline already flooding my veins. The bright lights all around force me to squint, but doesn’t stop me from moving my limbs. Their range of motion is greatly constrained by something attached to them, and the jingling and clanking that comes from the objects gives away their identities.

Chains. Manacles. Restraints.

“—sir, about all that’s not on this colt’s rap sheet is murder. And we don’t even know what he did on the other side.”

With a grunt, I open my now mostly adjusted eyes and scan my surroundings. I recognize the grey, faded mountcrete walls as the walls of Jela. My breathing is laboured and I feel metal between my teeth and over my snout. My eyes turn to my body, and I finally see the bonds around my fetlocks. I feel more clasped around my neck and barrel, and I recognize the thing on my face as a metal muzzle.

“Still makes him a career criminal, private. Well past the Prince’s threshold.”

Prince. Zabraxas. Cinder!

I try to stand upright, but the chains anchor me low to the ground, forcing me to flop back down to the ground with a pained grunt.

“Sounds like he’s up. Get him moving. His majesty’s wasted enough time waiting.”

The metal door to my side slides open, and in comes two Legion soldiers, each wielding shock-prods. They look at me with contempt, and a silent threat to comply on pain of, well, pain. I force myself to remain still and try my best to evaluate the situation as they unchain me from the floor and push me along, prods at the ready.

I have no clue where they’re taking me, so I keep an ear out for more information while I recall what happened. I remember our escape on the ship failing, with him catching up. But I also remember...

Wait a minute, Cinder hit me! She beat me bloody and knocked me out! Why would she—?!

Oh. Oh, no. Oh gods, I see it now.

She set things up to look like I was a prisoner, a bystander. She took the fall for me. She made Zabraxas save my life, not end it.

And just as soon as that realization hits, the emotions follow suit. I refuse to express them, not in front of these shoelicking bastards. But now, all I could think of was one thing: Cinder. What happened to her? Where is she? What did that bastard do to her?

The door before us opens as I feel my worries inflame into anger. Inside, I see a line-up of other zebra prisoners. All imperials, some of them hybrids. But a fresh knot of worry forms in my gut as I notice something else they all have in common: the stripes across their eyes. The guards shove me between some of the prisoners, close the door behind them, and leave through a different set of doors. The others range between frightened and angry, but something they all had in common was confusion. But with them all bound and muzzled like me, talking to them about what was happening was an impossibility.

The doors fly open, and my stomach drops at what was behind it. Zabraxas’s honourguards stormed in. Me and the others start to panic and back away as we see Zabraxas enter next. But my heart drops when I see what was trailing behind him.

Cinder.

She was in a small metal cage wheeled in on a flatbed cart, softly panting and down on her claws and knees. Her body was covered in dirt and scorch marks, and I immediately recognize the scorch patterns as strikes from his energy blades. They must not have been able to pierce her scales.

Everyzebra else trembled in terror at the Prince as he stepped forth. I was trembling too, but no longer for that reason.

I was furious.

Zabraxas’s eyes scanned across the line-up. His face was neutral and impassive at a first glance, but I could see the restrained disdain and contempt. Nowhere was that more evident than his gaze, his eyes making no effort to conceal how he looked down upon us all. By the hells, I don’t think I’ve wanted to wipe a look off of somezebra’s face this badly before.

With a small gesture of his head, Cinder’s cage is wheeled forth by an honourguard, stopping right beside him.

“I will make this simple for you, dragon.” His voice was deep, commanding, monotonous, and as unemotional as his expression, but I could still detect the distaste in his tone as he spoke her species’ name. “Say nothing, and you will die.”

My teeth ground against the metal of the muzzle’s bar.

“Reveal the rogue Prince for me, and I shall spare your life. Make your decision.”

So he was staying for me after all, and these zebras were reminiscent of me for a reason. Intellectually, I knew I should be terrified. But the fiery anger—no, the hate—boiling in my veins was surprising in just how much it quenched my fear of the Prince.

Cinder’s head rose slowly. I could see how tired she was. Her dull eyes scanned across the crowd, but stopped and double-took when she saw me. She didn’t move a muscle, but I could see the life return to her eyes. She pretended to observe the rest, but as her eyes went back over me, I knew exactly what that defiant little glint in her eye meant.

“I’ve got this.”

“All right,” she wheezes. “All right. You win. Just, no more. Please.”

“Point the rogue Prince out,” Zabraxas commanded. “Now.”

She begins to weakly raise her claw. A part of me begins to worry that she’ll give me away to save her own scales. But a much larger part of me knows her better than that. She finally points to a zebra. At first, I think it’s me. But a moment passes before I see the very slight angle of her finger, and realize she was pointing to a zebra next to me. And that zebra begins to freak out, yelling something unintelligible through his muzzle.

I look over, and see he looks very similar to me. Darker yellow eyes, and a slightly thinner stripe across his eyes. He was also a pure-blooded imperial, and had facial scars that I lacked. But was similar enough that one could confuse him with me from a distance.

Zabraxas steps forth, looking the fall stallion dead in the eyes. Said stallion continues freaking out in a mix of anger and terror, no doubt motor-mouthing about how it wasn’t him. Possibly the worst thing to do if you’ve been accused of something, falsely or not. And sure enough, his terrible choice of actions convinces the Prince of his guilt.

“Your taint on the Lines ends today,” he speaks with finality. “Take him away.”

He cries and begs as the honourguards drag him off. It reminds me all too well of the first time.

“You have served the Empire well, dragon.” He doesn’t even turn around to look at her. “You will continue to serve it within the depths of the Black Gulch.”

He says no more, turning around and walking away, back through the door the other zebra was dragged through. I could still hear his begging all the way from here. The honourguards leave, collecting Cinder as they go. Before the doors close, she looks back up at me. Again, she’s smart enough to not make a gesture that gives away the deception. But she knows that I know what that boastful look in her eye means.

“See you later.”

The doors shut. Moments later, proper legionnaires file in to herd us towards who-knows-where. My body is on autopilot, going along with whatever they’re doing. But internally, my rage was almost palpable. That holier-than-thou son of a whore comes to my home, uproots my life, and lays his hooves on my best friend? Throws her into the Black Gulch?! I don’t know what small miracle keeps me from lashing out, but gods above, I can feel every muscle in my body tense and flex with barely restrained fury.

It wasn’t just fear I felt for the Princes now. Now, there was another feeling in the mix.

I hate them. I hate him.

I loathe him and his bastard ilk, more than I’ve loathed anything before in my life. I despise how they can just do whatever they damn well please. And I hate how there’s not a damn thing I or anyzebra else can do to stop them. I hate how they are so, so much more powerful than me or anyzebra—no, anyspecies else, so powerful they can simply impose their will without any consequence; not even a reprimand.

I have to force my teeth to stop clenching, before they threaten to break against the metal between them. My thoughts, which I believed would have been occluded with rage, have never felt more clear. I know exactly what I'm going to do.

The minute, the second, I escape whatever hellshole prison they're taking me to, I’ll find her. I’ll find a way to break her out of Black Gulch. I don’t know how I will. I don’t even know if I can. I only know that I will try—no, that I will. I’ll be damned if those all-powerful whore-sons get the last word on this. I will not let them.

I’m only dimly aware of us boarding a prison ship at the docks of Jela. The sun shines in the sky and the skies are clear, save for the smoke plumes from the fires pockmarking Farasi. The cell I am placed in is above deck, facing out into the open. I look on at the island as it begins to gain distance, not with regret, but with newfound determination.

Hold on, Cinder. I’m coming for you.

Hard Knock Life

Present Day

Dear Princess Twilight,

I apologize for taking so long to respond to your letters: I have been occupied with serious matters in my homeland, and could not spare any time to bring your request before the Elders. Fortunately, that has now changed, and you will be pleased to hear that after careful consideration, they and my fellow Princes have agreed to evaluate the statue of this strange “Anonymous” creature of yours, and determine if he should indeed be interred within our special prison, reserved only for rogue Princes and hoofcrafted to block all use of their powers.

Don’t be concerned: from what you have told me of this battle you waged with him, I have little doubt that he will be given a place in the deepest depths of the prison.

However, this also means that the statue must be transported to the Quaternary Palace in Zebrat to be evaluated. Given what you have told me of the resourcefulness and forward thinking of this “Anonymous”, I am sure you agree that simply shipping it here without special protection is a terrible idea. To that end, I will be personally travelling to Equestria with both my fellow Prince, Zabraxas, and a retinue of our finest honourguards, to aid in the safe transit of his statue. With our combined powers and experience, I believe we will be able to help provide the utmost protection against any attempts to steal the statue, or worse yet, to liberate the creature within.

I plan to embark on my journey in a few days, pending our arrival at the port of Nanga. From there, it will be a month’s journey by sea. I would greatly appreciate any input you may have that may further increase the security of the statue, or better yet, will expedite the process without compromising that security.

And I will admit, I am very much looking forward to not only meeting you in zebrapony person, but to seeing your land of Equestria with my own eyes. I have never set hoof outside of Zebrica before, and I must confess that I find myself rather excited with the prospect of visiting such a faraway land, especially that of fellow equines. With any luck, I hope that this endeavour will herald the beginning of a newfound and friendly understanding between our peoples.

May you remain safe,
Prince Zakurai of the First Line

Princess Celestia and Princess Luna look up from the letter and down towards Twilight Sparkle, who was currently preoccupied with vibrating in place, wearing a smile large enough to rival Pinkie Pie’s as she looked back up towards the two elder monarchs upon their thrones. The actual Pinkie Pie and the rest of the Element Bearers, along with the ever-present Spike, look on at the elated Princess with amusement, and Celestia adds her own look to the visual chorus. Luna, however, does not.

Finally, Twilight could contain herself no more. With a tiny little neigh, she reared back and kicked her forelegs out, extended her wings, and her horn glowed with power. By the time she came back down onto all fours, she had teleported a small pile of other letters in front of her, and all but shoved them towards the two elder alicorns.

“I know, it’s amazing!” she squealed, her words coming out in rapid fire. “But that’s only the first letter I got from him, and that was a few days ago! We talked and talked about the details, I got the girls to write some letters to him as well, and I even asked Captain Celaeno to head down and pick them up, so they won’t have to sail all the way here! That way, it’ll only take them a week to get here! Or it will, once she gets back to me about—”

As if providence itself were listening, Spike burped up another letter, causing Twilight to cut herself off and immediately take the scroll with her magic. After quickly reading it’s contents, she squeed with delight again, rearing back and kicking once again.

“She said yes!” she squeals, getting some cheers from the other Element Bearers. “They’re heading there right now!”

Twilight adds the letter to the bottom of the stack, now suspended in Celestia and Luna’s magical auras. Right away, she has Spike dictate a letter to the faraway Prince informing him of this change to their plans. And after using a spell to duplicate the scroll’s contents to a fresh sheet of parchment, Twilight has Spike send the letter right away. She, of course, adds that letter to the stack as well.

“Yeah, she’s been like this for a few days now,” Spike says to the two sisters, chuckling a little.

Twilight briefly glares down at Spike, but doesn’t stay mad for very long, going right back to looking at the Princesses expectantly. “Well? Well? Isn’t this exciting?!”

“Think of the parties!” Pinkie interjects, popping up in front of Twilight in a shower of confetti.

Twilight’s excitement at these developments threatened to eclipse Pinkie’s. While it was true that this represented a chance to finally rid themselves of him for good, she was far more taken with the idea of forging more friendships across the world. Indeed, the idea she had to create a school of friendship was already being enhanced in her mind with the possible addition of students from the faraway land. A long shot, to be sure, but she hoped beyond hope that it might just happen! Already her thoughts were awash with the possibilities!

“This is quite the development, Twilight,” Celestia finally said after reading some of the many scrolls, wearing a proud little smile. “And you all volunteered to help protect the statue yourselves?”

“We did,” Applejack replies, nodding her head. “We beat that mean piece’a work before. Stands ‘ta reason we oughta be there in case he tries anythin’ funny.”

“Heck yeah!” Rainbow Dash boasts, kicking her forelegs as she continued flying in place.

“Fair enough,” Celestia continues, “Though I have a few suggestions of my own, if you would like to—”

“Yes!” Twilight immediately bleats.

Celestia tittered into her hoof before proceeding. “I believe we should involve the hippogriffs in this, too.”

“Ah, yes,” Luna finally pipes up. “They suffered greatly under the boot of Anonymous as well. They would have a vested interest in ensuring he is sealed away for good.”

If anypony noticed the ever-present concern etched into Luna’s tone and expression, they didn’t comment on it. But Celestia certainly did, and she had a sneaking suspicion she knew what that concern was. But it was a matter she would discuss with her later.

“Oh, no!” Twilight gasped, covering her mouth with her hooves. “I-I completely forgot about them! I just—”

“It’s quite all right, Twilight,” Celestia reassures her former pupil. “Why don’t you let me handle that part? I’m sure Queen Novo would look forward to visiting us again, if nothing else.”

“Yes!” And just like that, Twilight perked right back up. “That’s a great idea!”

“My other suggestion,” Celestia continues, “Is that I can’t help but notice that you’ve made no mention of bringing any guards with you.”

“Oh! Guards!” This time, she was more embarrassed than shocked. “R-right, heh heh, that might be a little important.”

“I’ll have my finest guards accompany you all,” Celestia declares with a small nod.

“And mine as well,” Luna concurs.

“I certainly hope there will be room on the ship for all those ponies,” Rarity wonders aloud.

“There totally will be, Rares!” Rainbow reassures her friend. “They used to haul cargo on that thing: there’ll be plenty of space!”

“Besides, that Prince feller is bringin’ his own guards too,” Applejack adds. “Nothin’ wrong with pitchin’ in some of our own.”

“Then it’s settled,” Celestia states with a smile.

“I’ll let him know about this right away!” Twilight cheered, clopping her hooves together. “Spike, take a letter!”

“Here we go again,” he mutters.

With a spring in her step, Twilight cantered out of the throne room, her friends following suit and promising to return once they got a reply. Now that they were alone, Luna gave a tired exhale.

“It’s about the zebras, isn’t it?” Celestia asked with a knowing tone.

“Tia, you remember as well as I do how poorly their ancient king treated his subjects, nevermind the two of us,” Luna replied, the sourness apparent in her tone. “And I know you remember how rude and haughty their people were, too, in spite of their squalor.”

“That was well over a millennia ago, you know that,” Celestia reminds her. “And according to this Prince, that throne has been abolished for nearly half a millennia now. Their people would surely have changed to reflect this.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Luna hums. “Either way, I do not like this. Even if this Zakurai is genuine in his peaceful intentions, how am I to know his ilk, or his people, are truly different than the zebras of that time?”

“We don’t,” came her simple reply, a flash of surprise crossing Luna’s expression when she hears it. “We will have to judge for ourselves when we see them in pony.”

“Mmm.” Luna’s hum of agreement quickly moves into her making a further point. “I will not lie, sister. Those Princes being cyphers still sits very badly with me.”

“I know. It makes me uneasy, too. But again, we can’t do much but judge the matter for ourselves once we finally meet them.”

“I will make certain to practice Magical Equilibrium before they arrive, in the event of a worst case scenario.”

“I don’t think it will come to that.” Celestia then leans down to speak quietly into her sister’s ear. “All the same, we should practice together.”

“Hah! Like our magic lessons under Starswirl?”

“This time without the failing grades.”

Luna allowed herself to laugh as Celestia stuck her tongue out at her. But as quickly as the moment came, it left.

“I think Twilight should be practising that spell as well,” Luna adds, back to her more serious tone of voice.

“I hardly think she of all ponies needs the practice,” Celestia titters. “In fact, last I heard, she was teaching Rarity and Cadance how to use it themselves.”

“Truly?”

“I think it was more to protect against his possible return, but yes.”

Luna rolls her eyes. “Anonymous has a name, dear sister.”

Celestia’s brow knits and her smile falls. “And Anonymous’s name has a way of compromising my calm.”

“If the compromise you speak of involves anger bright enough to melt steel, then I share your distaste. Regardless, withholding it only gives him power he ought not have.”

“I know. It’s just...” She trails off with a sigh.

In truth, Anonymous angered Celestia the most of all the princesses. This one creature had come out of nowhere, with no history, no past, and no warning. And yet, in the span of only a single week, had threatened to undo all of Equestria, all of Harmony itself, accomplishing more in that week than even the likes of Tirek or Chrysalis had achieved over far longer spans of time. But most wounding and infuriating for her was the harm he had inflicted onto Twilight. Harm she should have been there to prevent. That was reason alone for her to hate the stallion, but when all of his misdeeds were combined together, it left her with a figure that, for the first time in many centuries, she truly despised.

She would be beyond happy to see him gone for good. Discord’s creative and repeated vandalism of his statue could only do so much for her anger, even if he involved her in it on several occasions. He was in a similar position to her when it came to his opinion of Anonymous, only his ire stemmed from how he had harmed Fluttershy.

Giving her head a light shake, she attempts to push the thought of Anonymous from her head by starting on that letter to Queen Novo, summoning her parchment and utensils. Perhaps she should join Discord later on today to help work out some stress—

“Sister.” Now it was Luna’s turn to use a knowing tone with Celestia. “You’ve every right to be angry with Anonymous for what he’s done. But believe me when I say you do not want to feed that emotion.”

“I know. It’s...” She lets out another sigh as she sends the letter with her magic. “I’ve never been so... angry with another creature before. I’m not sure how to handle it.”

“I wish I had a good answer for you, Tia. Just know that I am always here to talk about it, should you need to.”

The sisters’ brief nuzzling is interrupted by the throne room doors flying open and Twilight flying through, holding a new letter in her magical grasp.

“He just wrote back,” she squealed. “He’s okay with all of it! I did the math, and he should be here sometime in the next two weeks!”

“That’s wonderful news, Twilight,” said Celestia, her smile returned. “I’m just waiting to hear back from Queen Novo now.”

“Speaking of hearing back,” Luna adds, “We should address the matter of guards now, while we are thinking of it.”

Nodding her agreement, Celestia and Luna both summon their own parchment and quill, and begin writing letters to their guard commanders to requisition their finest guards for this endeavour. As they write, Twilight’s friends rush in to catch back up with her, and laugh among themselves over her sudden outburst of excitement. But mere moments after the two sisters send their letters, Spike coughs up yet another one that Twilight is quick to seize and metaphorically tear into.

The elder princesses do not like how their junior’s expression is falling as she reads the words.

“What...?” Twilight mutters, more confused than anything.

“Darling, whatever’s the matter?” Rarity inquires.

She shows them the letter, and as they read it, their expressions fall as well, the primary emotion shared between them all being that of annoyance.

“Really?” Applejack deadpans. “That feller couldn’t wait until after this whole thing to do this?”

“Ugh,” Rainbow Dash groaned through a facehoof. “This poor guy. I know some flyers that act like this.”

“Hmph, seems that ‘compromise’ is not a word in his vocabulary,” Rarity huffs.

“Do not keep us in suspense!” Luna calls out. “What is in that letter?”

The letter is floated over to the two sisters next, and they waste no time in perusing it’s content.

Princess Twilight,

I am afraid that there will be an additional complication to our handling of your ‘Anonymous’, and unfortunately, it lies on my end, despite my efforts to resolve it. I mentioned earlier that I enlisted the aid of my fellow prince Zabraxas to aid us in the safe transit of your statue. He is a Prince that concerns himself in matters of justice, and is thoroughly uncompromising on the matter. In most other situations, I would laud this as a positive thing, but unfortunately, it has now introduced that aforementioned complication.

Prince Zabraxas, on occasion, visits prisons across Zebrica to give a select few inmates a chance to redeem themselves, bringing them with him on his journeys to benefit from his experience and see the error of their ways. And he has decided that our international journey is the perfect time to bring a fresh batch of inmates with him on another such tour.

As you would expect, this poses a serious and significant security risk. Unfortunately, Prince Zabraxas has categorically refused to delay his reformation tour until our return, in spite of my requests and arguments. He sees this as a matter of both duty and principle, and he is unwilling to be flexible on the matter.

As such, I have requested more honourguards to compensate for this development. I am thankful to hear that you are bringing guards of your own, as this will help greatly to offset any potential issues this may cause us. But I am not at all pleased with this turn of events.

I can only offer you my sincerest apologies for this inconvenience, and my hope that this will not affect the transport of the statue, nor reflect poorly on our relations going forward.

Yours,
Prince Zakurai of the First Line

Celestia regarded the letter with a unamused stare. Luna, on the other hoof, was having her instincts on the Zebrican people vindicated before her eyes.

“That’s... quite unfortunate,” Celestia finally said.

It was only Luna’s diplomatic experience that kept her ‘I told you so’ contained.

INTERVAL I
Prison Architects

RING-RING-RING

“All right, you maggots,” the forestallion bellows above his ringing of the work bell, “Shift’s over for the day! Now get your worthless tails out of my mine!”

My buck against the green-streaked walls of the copper mine completed just as the stallion began his proclamation, and I held the pose as he spoke, the studs in the mining horseshoes keeping my hind hooves anchored into the wall. Indeed, all of the other labourers—each of them inmates like myself—stopped the moment he began speaking as well, not daring to risk the wrath of the guards overseeing them.

With a twist of my hindlegs, my hooves came free from the walls, just in time for the guard assigned to my small group to tug at the chain attached to our yokes. He leads us like dogs out of the hot, dusty, candle- and lantern-lit mine shaft, travelling through tight, cramped, and winding tunnels occasionally broken up with rickety ladders. Eventually, however, we arrive at a massive, wide-open cavern full of other inmates, waiting in line at the heavily guarded prisoner processing facility in the middle of the cavern that gated access to the sole cargo lift that led back up to the prison complex. The lineups of work groups at the facility’s doors—three prisoners to one guard—were long as expected, but our turn came soon enough. The guards there had the routine down to a science at this point: place us in a crush, remove our mining equipment and yokes, peel the filthy and damp cloth face masks off of our muzzles, inspect us for any stolen material, and once all was in order, funnel us towards the elevator.

It was deequinizing, and I expected no less from prison; this was far from the first time I’d been to one, but it was the first time I had been sent to one of those much-rumoured work prisons. It was honestly impressive, seeing just how efficiently they used zebras like myself for hard labour like this. The tough, routine work bled out most of the dumber criminals’ aggression, and put real fear into the minds of the self-styled “intelligent” criminals for once in their pampered, slovenly lives, motivating them to work lest their assigned guard beat them, or informed the administration to have their meal for the day outright revoked as a punishment.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the yelps from some of the stallions stuck in inspection, caught trying to smuggle out some ore and subjecting both themselves and their group members to a mandatory cavity search. I don’t know why some of them think smuggling out worthless copper ore is a good idea, but I suppose that it’s further proof that for some zebras, there’s simply no end to their stupidity.

I’m just thankful the idiot wasn’t in my group. The inspections are swift, but they are not gentle.

A loud buzzer cuts through the sound of the chatter, indicating that the elevator has reached capacity. Mine guards armed with shock-prods and teargas splash potions step onto the elevator next, forming a ring around our little group of prisoners and dissuading any escape attempts. Not that you could escape from the deepest depths of a mine, but I had seen plenty of dense zebras try regardless. The guard leader blows a whistle to signal their readiness, and moments later, the elevator platform lurches underhoof, the thick chains connecting it to the prison above pulling taut with a sudden CLINK as they begin to raise us to the surface.

My eyes naturally travel upwards, observing each level of the mine as it comes. We worked in one of the lower levels today, so there was nearly five minutes of travel time to look forward to. Each mine level was separated by tens of metres of solid stone, presumably to avoid any chances of caving in, and the roughly cut vertical tunnel the elevator occupied was much wider than the elevator itself, requiring a drawbridge at each level to even board the thing. The platform gently swayed as it rose, unsupported by any kind of guide rail. That was the true reason the shaft was much wider than the elevator: such rails were expensive, and prisoners weren’t worth that expense. Indeed, they deserved to swing about, or so the justification goes. Though the mine guards certainly didn’t appreciate it, either.

Eventually, the natural stone of the vertical shaft gives way to the grey mountcrete walls of the prison facility proper, with the shaft becoming a nice, even cylinder to show for it. We pass the cargo level, the processing level, and one of the maintenance levels before finally arriving at the prisoner level, the elevator coming to a sudden stop as usual once the platform was parallel with the floor. The drawbridge was extended, and we were shooed across it and into the spacious elevator room as per usual, where we were then swiftly herded into the prison’s enclosed common hall by the proper prison guards.

In most other prisons, this would be an open-air courtyard. But not here. Not at the infamous Greenstone Prison, second only in infamy to Jela back on Farasi. I wonder how it’s been doing since that damned Prince had...

I close my eyes and inhale sharply through my nose, lightly shaking my head as I exhale to sweep the anger-inducing thought of him from my head before it causes me to act very unwisely.

Refocusing, I allow myself to stretch my legs and crack my joints a few times before heading for the shower. There was no way I was about to go about my day’s activities without cleaning the disgusting mixture of rock dust and sweat that clung to my coat, and most of the other inmates had the same idea. We move as a group towards the large common shower room, wasting no time in finding a showerhead and getting to work cleaning ourselves off.

I savour the feeling of rinsing the filth from my body, one of the few highlights of my days here. As usual, some of the stallions take the opportunity to become quite intimate with one another. That in itself was common across most prisons I had been to. Hells, I’ve indulged in such debauchery in other prisons before. What made my eyes roll was how often they didn’t even bother to clean themselves off completely before getting down to business. I don’t even want to know what kind of issues and diseases that’s going to cause.

I quickly finish my shower and trot back towards the common hall, passing by a few crowds and groups as I head for the prison’s small library to resume my reading. The daily paper was a given, though it revealed nothing interesting, as per usual; the Empire’s censors were true masters of saying much without saying anything. With that waste of time behind me, I grab the trashy romance novel I was partway through and pick a very specific open table to read the book. The book only has a small sliver of my attention: the rest was devoted to listening in on the nearby staff break room to eavesdrop on both the current state of the prison’s office politics, and any other noteworthy events. I don’t hear anything useful, but that suits me just fine: it means my escape plans were still good to go.

The tension between the mine guards and the prison guards was thick enough to cut with a knife, and that was the linchpin of this plan. At Greenstone, they shuffled prisoners around their cells at complete random, and had zero tolerance for smuggling items in: anyzebra caught with contraband received a very thorough beating. Combine that with the guards’ ready access to military weapons, plus the prisoners being worn down with daily mine work, and it meant that my most reliable method of escape via supplying and then sparking a riot was, sadly, off the table. So I had to get... creative.

Imperial prisons were owned by the Empire’s military, and their guards were all soldiers, usually here as trainees, or more commonly, on punishment detail. However, since this is also a functional mine and an ore processing facility as well, that means business is involved here, too. Civilian business. That means contractors, and an entirely different class of staff at play. It was precisely that class difference that I was in the process of exploiting.

The actual mine itself, as well as the processing levels, were owned and operated by a business, which meant that the mine guards were not proper soldiers of the Empire, but were instead private security, no different than mercenary warships hired by merchants to escort their cargo ships. And they lived like kings compared to the soldiers. Of course, they worked in the much more dangerous mines—with dangerous prisoners, no less—to earn that pay, too. But the prison guards don’t see that part, and they feel so very, deeply envious over how good they think the mine guards have it.

Once I realized that a few weeks into my imprisonment here, it was a simple yet lengthy matter to... arrange for the deepening of this divide. A rumour here and there. A misplaced supervisor’s lunch during my shifts in processing or maintenance. A broken machine every now and then. An innocuous ‘mistake’ on my part, chalked up to orders from the mine or prison guards. A slow drip-feed of small things, poisoning the rank-and-file workers of this confluence between business and military. And now, the contractors and soldiers were fuming, and on the verge of holding a strike. One I was steadily working towards setting off at just the right moment.

If I couldn’t cause a riot, I could certainly cause a strike instead. When triggered in the right time and place? Just as potent a distraction for my escape.

Every prison had it’s weaknesses, and this one was certainly no exception. And I was exceedingly efficient at escaping prison at this point. And while a part of me was quite taken with the unique challenge this place posed for me, another part was frustrated that it was taking so long: it may well be time that Cinder didn’t have.

I smile a bit at hearing the complaints about the other workers, helping to wash away the horribly predictable plot point in the book. Honestly, the way some of these mares write, one would think they’ve never met a stallion in their lives. Let alone a real stallion, for that matter. Regardless, I’m careful to watch my time, and leave the library at the right moment, preempting the dinner bell. I attempt to enjoy tonight’s dinner of oat gruel before the curfew bell rings next. And once I’m shown to my entirely different cell, I take twenty minutes to stretch and decompress before flopping onto the uncomfortable and dirty cot for the night.

As usual, sleep claims me quickly.

My hoofsteps echo throughout the cave as I continue my journey into it’s depths. Held in my mouth is the lantern that illuminates my journey, containing a miniature version of the burning yellow sun. Despite it’s size, it still shines it’s scorching light as brightly as ever, warming me to my very bones and illuminating the dull, dark grey stone of the cave for a great distance.

The cave opens into the bottom of a massive open ravine, the stars of the night sky twinkling above. The taste of the fresh, cool night air is downright delicious after all of that musty cave air, and I take a few moments to just savour the next few refreshing breaths of it, all while peering up at the starlit sky.

I see the light of day begin to break overhead, but the light isn’t from the yellow sun. Indeed, it’s still with me in the lantern, but it begins to shrink in on itself, as if trying to hide. Eyes widening in recollection, I look back up to the sky, noticing right away that the morning light was a harsh, metallic blue, and seemed to sap the very heat from the surroundings.

Instantly, I realized what this meant. And instantly, I was on the move.

I bolt back into the cave I came out of, determined to avoid being detected by the blue sun. With the much fainter light of the yellow sun to guide me, I flee deeper and deeper into the earth’s bowels until I re-emerge at the intersection my journey began at, the mouths of the other caves lining the walls. Spurred on by the encroaching blue light from behind, I bolt for one of the smaller caves, winding my way down the narrow passage before coming to a dead end in the form of a small, uneven chamber full of stalactites, stalagmites, boulders, and a myriad of other places to hide. Though the blue light wasn’t yet at my back, I decided not to take a chance at going back, and set about finding myself a suitable hiding spot.

I find a good spot in the far back, behind a cluster of tall, wide stalagmites that had a good view of the chamber’s entrance. I quickly nestle into place, laying prone and covering the already quite dim light of the lantern with my body, plunging the chamber into darkness. And from there, I wait, watching the entrance like a hawk.

The occasional flicker of blue light comes from the entrance, along with the sound of stone being destroyed. Then, after many agonizing moments of waiting, the one thing I didn’t want to see happen, happened: the blue light began to grow brighter, indicating the sun’s approach. I lay my head flat to the ground and minimize my profile and breathing as much as I possibly could, praying that the blue sun would leave quickly and wouldn’t spot me.

It’s intense, freezing light fully enters the chamber, coating the surfaces with frost. I can hear hollow, ephemeral hoofsteps as it floats around, the frost from the light creeping out to cover all the other unexposed surfaces. The hairs of my coat stand on end as I become the next subject of the cold, and the temperature causes my breath to steam, forcing me to take a quiet breath and hold it. The lantern with the yellow sun keeps my core warm, but my limbs aren’t so fortunate, pricking with pain as time dragged on. My eyes widen as I see my body beginning to steam from the temperature difference, right as the dancing of the shadows and the intensity of the light and cold tells me the sun is mere hooves away from me, separated only by my cover.

I begin to sweat from both fear and a lack of air, making the steaming even worse. This is the end for me, isn’t it? It—he—is going to find me again. And he’ll finish what he started back on Farasi. He’ll find me, and he’ll kill me. Or worse.

But then, at the zenith of my fear, when I screw my eyes shut and feel the ice on my eyelids threatening to seal them shut, I feel... something else. Something new. Warm air begins breezing through the chamber, and I feel the frost beginning to thaw. And I swear I can feel... annoyance in the air. The freezing sensation lessens, and I reopen an eye, seeing the blue light of the sun retreating. And I can see a second, red light, casting it’s own set of flickering shadows.

Confused, I very slowly and carefully exhale, and take in a slow, controlled breath of fresh, life-giving air. All the while, my eyes remain fixed on the ceiling, observing the sharp shadows of the cold blue light and the now prominent red-hot light, trying to glean their location. I think they’ve moved to the mouth of the cave, far away from me. And so, weighing my options for a moment, I risk a small look, peeking just above my cover to see the entrance.

Shockingly, I see not one, but two miniature suns at the chamber’s entrance: one of them the same blue one from before, and the other an unfamiliar, brilliantly bright red sun. The latter one burned with intense power, it’s core a much darker red than the surrounding bright red mass. A constant stream of angry flames radiated from it’s surface, flowing upwards into the air as if it were a normal fire, reminiscent of a large candle flame. Though it looked extremely dangerous in it’s own right, it felt nowhere near as hostile as the blue sun. Indeed, it almost felt... friendly.

Stranger still was the presence of two shadowy, grey, and almost ghostly stallions that sat directly beneath their respective suns, their outlines and features faded and blurry as if not properly in focus. Connected to their backs was a thick cord of power that linked each stallion to their sun, much like the cord the yellow one used to anchor itself. The two figures appeared to be having a discussion, but I couldn’t hear anything beyond unintelligible whispers. The blue sun’s stallion seemed stoic and uncompromising, while the red sun’s stallion, aside from being noticeably more animated during his conversation, was becoming increasingly annoyed and exasperated at whatever the other was saying.

But eventually, after whatever discussion they had comes to it’s conclusion, the two begin leaving back down the passageway, taking their suns with them. I don’t dare exhale until their light has vanished for well over a minute. Flipping onto my back, I hold the lantern tight to my chest, thankful that me and the sun within had evaded detection. It tenders it’s thanks by way of igniting my body with that familiar yellow flame, melting away all of the pain and tension. Even after my vision fills with yellow, then white, I continue to hold the lantern close.

I wake with a start, a cold sheen of sweat covering my coat and staining my bedding. No trace of exhaustion was present in my system, all of it flushed out by a surge of adrenaline, a tidal wave of dread, and a sense of impending doom.

“Shit, shit!” I mutter to myself, cupping my face with my hooves. “No, no, come on. This can’t be happening!”

He can’t be back! There can’t be two of them!

And yet, the dream didn’t lie. The icy sun of Zabraxas was there, the vanguard of his arrival. Just as it was on Farasi. Already my mind’s eye fills in the blanks of the dream, the unfocused and ghostly stallion linked to the sun coming into focus and revealing itself as the damnable Prince himself. But the second stallion remained blurry and unknown. I didn’t know who that second sun belonged to. And I didn’t want to find out.

My ears perk up at the sound of the guards moving. I quickly get to my hooves and move towards the bars of my cell door, seeing the morning detail heading towards the morning bell. Both the light from the skylights and the clocks on the walls show that it’s far too early for us to work. And if I saw them in my dream, that must mean...!

Oh, gods, no.

RING-A-RING-A-RING

“Rise and shine, prisoners!” I could detect excitement, or perhaps terror, in the voice of the guard making the announcement, lending confirmation to my fears. “You are to proceed to the courtyard at once!”

More guards filter in to ensure compliance, especially from the mouthier and lazier inmates. The varying states of stress, fear, and excitement were plain as day on their expressions and in their motions, and they did not spare the shock-prods on the usual troublemakers. Every fibre of my being doesn’t want to go to that courtyard. But I already know I’ll either go there willingly, or I’ll be dragged there after being beaten senseless. Nozebra sat out a proclamation by the Princes.

“Relax, Zobachi,” I breathe, trying to calm myself. “They didn’t see you. They don’t know you’re here this time.”

When they come to open my cell, I leave willingly: I want my legs functional and my energy high in case something happens. We are all funnelled into the massive courtyard, normally used for cargo transport and prisoner processing and just barely lit by the deep orange light of the approaching dawn. Even the mares from the female prison block are assembling here as well, looking just as confused as the stallions. But even if they didn’t know why they were here, the confusion and anxiety in the room was thick. I was just ahead of the curve on knowing it’s source.

Many agonizing minutes pass after everyzebra is assembled. My eyes remain fixed forward on the stage that had been hastily set up, looking for any signs of movement, ignoring the chatter and speculation all around me. And then, I see them: Imperial Guard members, many of them with brass horns, marching onto the stage. Those closer to the front already begin falling silent upon seeing them, but everyzebra follows suit once they play their short tune for all to hear. One of the guards, an imperial mare from the look of it, approaches the front of the stage with a loudspeaker in her hold.

“Kneel in supplication before your Imperial sovereigns,” she demanded more than she announced, “And provide respectful silence towards the mighty Prince Zabraxas of the Third Line, and the honourable Prince Zakurai of the First Line!”

Wait. Zakurai?

That brief moment of surprise is the only thing that cuts into my feelings of dread that by now is quickly becoming mutual with my fellow criminals. The moment the two Princes step onto that stage, everyzebra bows. I follow suit. I have no choice in the matter. But my eyes never once leave them.

Zabraxas was unchanged from the last time I had seen him, and the very sight of him filled me with the same burning anger I felt from before, galvanizing my nerves. But tempering that rage was my surprise at the sight of Zakurai, of all the Princes. I had thought he was a homebody at Zebrat, doing little more than frolicking about the Quaternary Palace and pleasing tourists and outlanders alike. Indeed, the two Princes were nothing alike, and by all accounts, had nothing in common. One was severe, unbending, and dealt in matters of conflict and war, as I saw first-hoof. But the other, at least according to my knowledge on the Princes, was affable, welcoming, and dealt in matters of peace and diplomacy.

Realistically, one of the other two Princes should be standing with Zabraxas right now: Either Prince Zakarot or Zedillian—no, Zalman now; I had forgotten that Zedillian retired and become an Elder, hoofing the reins of his Line to the new blood. I was endlessly thankful that Zakarot was not here, but I knew next to nothing about the newest Prince. But I did know about Zakurai, and that didn’t change that he was woefully out of place here.

And yet, here he was, far from his comforts and perhaps even his element. The plains-mountain hybrid was, as expected, quite a bit smaller than his imperial-blooded cohort, but he was still physically fit and well-built in his own right, adding to his admittedly very attractive facial structure. Forgoing the worn battle armour of his fellow Prince, Zakurai chose instead to display his body with very little coverings, as was more normal. In true mountain zebra fashion, he wore golden rings, but much fewer than their ostentatious norm: only one ring occupied each of his forelegs, one ring pierced each of his ears, one ring was clasped around his neck, and strangely enough, he wore one more as a coronet, helping to keep the bangs of his long, well-maintained, and slightly wavy mane out of his eyes. Of note especially was his signature article of clothing: the bright blue and luxurious scarf he wore around his neck, partially obscuring the golden neck ring and complementing the vibrant orange colour of his eyes.

Indeed, through the haze of my fears and confusion, it was those eyes and the rest of his expression that I was drawn to as the memory of the second stallion in my dream was filled out with his appearance. I remembered the frustration he expressed there, and sure enough, I could read frustration in his features as well. It was hidden well, to be sure, but there all the same. The two must have been arguing about something before they came here, possibly in that very dream.

The idea of the two Princes butting heads over something is not nearly amusing enough to make me smile in this situation. Rather, it only makes me deeply nervous about what’s to come.

“Criminals.” Zabraxas spoke bluntly and with little intonation, and with even less room for argument. “Five of your number shall accompany me and my fellow Prince on our quest to bring security and prosperity to Zebrica.”

Wait, what? That’s what he’s here for? This sanctimonious bastard was here for one of his oh-so-famous rehabilitation tours? No wonder Zakurai looked so frustrated.

But at least now I knew neither of them saw me in the dream. They would be tearing this prison apart by now if they had. Well, Zabraxas would, at any rate.

It’s amazing, really, just how little comfort that knowledge brings me.

“You will submit yourselves to our party, that you might benefit from our wisdom and experience. Through your service, you will have the chance to atone for your crimes. Should we deem you worthy through your deeds, you shall have your sentence commuted, perhaps even forgiven. Do not squander the opportunity we offer.”

Without so much as moving a muscle, a quintet of blue energy shortswords stream out from his back, one after the other, levitating into the air. Everyzebra stared at the display of his Gift with wide eyes and naked awe, as did most of the guards. I, knowing full well what kind of damage his Gift was capable of, had to struggle to control my instincts to run.

Despite the depths of my hatred for Zabraxas in particular, he still held all of the power here. And right now, with no way out, that old fear of the Princes was beginning to overtake my relatively newfound anger towards them. Once again, self-preservation was at the top of my agenda: I couldn’t rescue Cinder if I was dead.

My internal struggles worsened as those blades pointed outwards above the crowd and flew forth, travelling in lazy, circular patterns far over our heads as if deciding who to pick. One such blade hovered over my group. Hushed, hopeful murmurs came from the other inmates, but all I could do was stare up at the blade as my breathing became heavier, my legs began to tremble, and sweat started to bead across my body.

“Remain kneeling,” the guard from before barked, “Lest you incur the wrath of your sovereigns!”

I never stopped. I was too frozen to stop. But everyzebra who had stood in awe of the blades quickly resumed kneeling, though kept murmuring. The blades slowed their pace, their decisions now seemingly made, and began to slowly descend in a spiral towards whoever they had picked. One of them was coming straight towards my little group. The murmuring turned to hopeful exclamations, with some begging to be picked. It’s then that a horrifying possibility occurs to me.

He might pick me.

The blade finally stops spiralling downwards above a small ring of zebras, including myself. However, it doesn’t stop moving, spinning around by it’s pommel instead and slowly angling downwards, as if it were an arrow affixed to a spinning wheel. By this point my teeth were gritting and my ears were splayed back, but I dared not look away from the blade.

Don’t pick me.

The blade begins to slow.

Don’t pick me.

I do not like the trajectory of that final, slow spin.

For the love of Elysium and all that is holy, do not pick me!

The blade floats down as if falling over, laying across my back. I’m too shocked, too blindsided, to properly note how it was causing me no harm.

“Rejoice, chosen ones,” Zabraxas announces. “Through your good fortunes, you have been granted a chance at a fresh beginning. Your journey to redemption begins now.”

Cheers and exclamations ring out all around. If they were meant for me and the other chosen zebras, I barely noticed. The gears of my mind were well and truly stuck, and only began to loosen as the reality of the situation began to dawn upon me.

“Chosen ones!” the guardsmare from before ordered. “Remain where you are, and follow your guards when ordered.”

Her words forcefully cleared the jam in my mental clockwork. I was terrified, to be sure. But less than I thought. Rather, it was a much more even split between my fear, my hatred, and a new, rising sense of brazen, galling indignation.

“This has got to be a joke,” I fume under my breath.

Sure enough, the guards come to take me somewhere. It would be stupid beyond measure not to comply, so I do. But that growing anger continued to fester as they led me towards the prison’s gates, along with the other chosen zebras.

What in the hells happens to me now?!

Points of Authority

My mind was an erupting volcano of vitriol and anger. Dozens of curses and wishes for pain and death upon that bastard Zabraxas ricocheted around inside of me, pleading with me to be given a voice. It took so, so much of my willpower to not give in to those desires, in no small part thanks to the ever-present energy sword of his Gift, still laid across my back. As much as I hate the situation I find myself pulled into, and the one who pulled me into it even more, my will to survive prevails. Even if only by a thread.

And so it is that I bite my tongue and let the guards lead me and the four other chosen zebras out of the prison and towards a small yet heavily guarded encampment, a good five minute’s trot away. The ones guarding it were, of course, the two Princes’ honourguards. Despite numbering no more than two dozen, these guards were hoof-picked for their skills and extreme loyalty, bordering on the kind of fanaticism I only ever see in Zhaaneph clergystallions. Or, well, most Zhaanephi faithful, for that matter.

While me and the other chosen zebras are herded towards a waiting pair of honourguards at the camp, I take a moment to look over those other unfortunates I’ll be forced to spend time around. Absolutely none of them were noteworthy, not even the one mare that had been dragged along. In fact, I look to be the only hybrid in the group. Two of the stallions, one plains and the other imperial, were having a hard time keeping their eyes off of the plains mare, who looked to be quietly enjoying the influx of male attention. The third stallion was a mountain zebra, and he was having a hard time keeping his eyes off of me. That had better not become a problem. This is far from the time or place.

In any case, the guards hoof me and the others off to the honourguards, and I can see that the normal Imperial Guards are visibly nervous about dealing with them, retreating at a speedy walking pace once they were sure we were in good hooves. Indeed, with their gold-banded steel scale mail armour and painstakingly crafted, finely striped, and wickedly sharp crucible steel weaponry, both infused in enough mountain alchemy to flood a small village, it was easy to see why they would be so intimidating to treat with.

Having fled from the Princes they’ve been entrusted with on more than one occasion, I find them much less intimidating than they do. Though I’m sure the other four chosen zebras were quite frightened of them as well.

“On behalf of our sovereigns,” the first one opens,
“We welcome you to our encampment,” the second one continues.

Oh gods, are they really going to do this double speaking routine?

“Your Princes will return shortly,”
“To address, appraise, and equip you.”
“But until they do,”
“You are to follow our instructions.”

Yes, apparently, they are. As if I didn’t have enough annoyances to deal with.

“We will start with your living spaces.”
“You will all be responsible for them.”
“Maintaining them,”
“Cleaning them,”
“Packing them,”
“And transporting them.”

They lead me and the others to said living spaces: five separate tents for me and the others. They were compact, easily packed things, placed in the encampment such that they would be easily observed from most of the other portable structures. I am genuinely surprised that they weren’t just cramming me and the others into a single large tent. After all, that is what he normally does on these accursed ‘reformation tours’.

Before I can continue that caravan of thought, the guards then take me and the others to the large, central campfire. Only, it was a ring of stones with absolutely no wood or other flammable material inside: just the red flames of Zakurai’s Gift. I hadn’t even realized it was his fire until just now, and just like that, I’m immediately back on edge. And right as I was starting to put Zabraxas’s blade on my back out of my mind.

Me and the others are made to sit around the fire, waiting until they come back. I hate to admit it, but Zakurai’s flames were... very comfortable to be around. Looking to one side, I see the mare of the group making puppy eyes at the two stallions, and like thirsty animals, they cozy up to her, sating her need for male attention with a happy little sigh while said males looked about ready to fight somezebra if it meant getting even a whiff of her marely assets. Pathetic, really, how sex can so easily control some zebras. Sure, it’s good. Downright lovely, even. But it’s not that good. And my exploitation of that same weakness in other zebras does not alter my observation.

She starts making the same face at me, but I think she’s socially aware enough to see that I’m far out of her league. Unfortunately, she adopts an entitled little scowl at the unamused look I replied to her with, and with that, I can already tell she’ll be a problem. As if I didn’t have enough problems to deal with.

“S-so, uhm...”

Ah, right. The other stallion. His voice is slightly higher pitched than normal, and was noticeably flustered and nervous. He sits rather close to me, away from the mare and her little entourage, but my only response is a flick of one ear as I turn to look into the fire.

“Q-quite the uh, t-turn of events, huh?”

I move one eye to look him over. A normal size for mountain zebras, which was fairly small compared to myself. He rubs the back of his head and averts his eyes with a nervous laugh when my eye makes contact with his. Cute. Satisfied with my appraisal, I shut both my eyes and take a breath, opting to take advantage of the fire before me as a means to calm and centre myself.

“H-heh, yeah, r-right.” He was nervous about more than being chosen by Zabraxas, and it’s fairly obvious I’m the reason for it. “Whoo. Ah, m-my name’s Zelac, by the way.” I don’t remember asking. “Uh, what’s yours?”

“You’ll find out,” I replied.

“Oh!” Seems hearing my voice is very pleasing to him. “Ooh. Uhm. I, I will?”

“Once, ugh, our majesties,”—I can feel the bile rising in my throat as I utter those words—“Return with our records.”

“R-r-records?”

“Criminal records. To read out loud to everyzebra.”

“Wh-w-whaaat?” There, now he’s appropriately frightened of the reality of our situation. “He’s going to—? Oh no. I-I-I can’t—”

“It gets worse.”

“Buh?”

“So if I were you, I’d spend a lot less time getting comfortable. And a lot more bracing yourself.”

Mercifully, he falls silent, but shuffles a little closer, perhaps for protection. So long as he stays silent, I don’t care what he does. I, meanwhile, shut my eyes and attempt to concentrate, pondering how I’m going to navigate this horrific mess I’m in.

Escape is basically impossible given the honourguards, nevermind the damned Princes themselves. If by some small miracle I survive this entire ordeal, I’m basically guaranteed to not get a commuted sentence, given the length of my rap sheet. I knew damn well how this was going to work: me and Cinder, on two different occasions, went out of our way to help a couple of runaway chosen escape their very literal bonds. They were happy not only to tell me all they could about how he treated them, but what I’d be in for should I ever have the misfortune of being singled out by him myself.

To think I’d actually be using that information as a survival guide now, and not just as a story to scare the shit out of other criminals.

But that’s not the only problem here. Though it likely wasn’t his place to meddle in his fellow Prince’s affairs, Zakurai was a complete wildcard here as well. And sleep was going to be a major issue for me. Hiding from them in my dreams was hard enough already, and those were just one-offs! Now I’m to hide myself for possibly weeks on end?!

Gods, if I stay here, I’m going to die. Asleep or awake, they’ll figure me out. There’s no scenario I can think of where I come out of this with my life. There’s nothing for it: I need to get out of here somehow. I need to start looking for an escape immediately, before too many days pass. But right now, all I can do is await the induction ceremony and examine my surroundings for any openings once I have the chance. Anything else is liable to get me killed right away.

Already, my hoof starts tracing around my neck. Gods, I don’t know how I’ll control myself during that part of the ceremony.

The guards begin speaking up some time later.

“Your sovereigns are returning,”
“So form an orderly line,”
“And prepare to kneel in supplication,”
“When they arrive to address, appraise, and equip you all.”

Yes. Equip. Briefly, I ponder my chances of murdering Zabraxas in his sleep.

Me and the others quickly stand back up and form ourselves into that line. Already, I can see figures approaching from the prison. My lip starts to tremble when I identify the figures as the Princes and some honourguards. By that point, we’re ordered to kneel again. And again, my eyes do not move from the two royal bastards. Zabraxas remained utterly stone-faced as he approached, and I could tell that Zakurai was still hiding his frustration.

As they come to a stop before us, I see one honourguard with him carrying five scrolls on his back: the criminal records. One of the scrolls was significantly longer than the others. Another honourguard joins them from a nearby tent with a small wooden crate on his back. I try so hard to not react to it, knowing what was likely going to be in it.

“Convicts,” Zabraxas opens, his tone and gaze surprisingly devoid of disdain. “Your lives as you knew them before have come to an end. Now, your penance to the Empire begins today, and with it, your first steps on the path of redemption.”

Oh gods. Is he going to speak only in platitudes?

“But all paths to the light must begin with honesty. Honesty with others, and honesty with yourselves.”

With a gesture of his head, the honourguard passes him a scroll. He unfurls it and begins reading it’s contents for a brief moment. He speaks a zebra’s name aloud, and commands them to step forward. The plains stallion does just that, and he then begins to read aloud a short description of their life, followed by a list of their crimes.

He does this for several minutes, dismissing the zebra once he is finished and calling forth another. Apparently that plains stallion was guilty of punching a few stallions, as well as getting too friendly with some mares. The imperial was a common thug who worked for a crime family, and had plenty of assaults to his name, whatever that was—I’ve already forgotten. The mare was a common, status chasing tail lifter, and she turned bright red at hearing her many adulterous crimes read aloud, her head hung in shame. The mountain stallion was also guilty of adultery, but with another stallion, and was similarly embarrassed. Although he had only one charge with the maximum sentence possible. So he must have bedded somezebra with money or power, and gotten on his bad side.

And then it was my turn. Keeping my composure as he stood directly in front of me was a test on my limits all unto itself. And there was something uniquely infuriating about this imperious son of a whore reading my terse and horribly inaccurate life story aloud, as if he knew all there was to know about me from this descriptor.

Yet read he did, from the longest scroll of them all. My earliest years known to zebrakind, when I was left at an orphanage at only a few years old. My knack for crime at an early age, and my independent pursuit of it, all throughout my teenage years and well into adulthood, culminating in my time spent on Farasi. In any other circumstance, the amount of bad and missing information in there could be a comedy unto itself. But this was the diametric opposite of a comedic circumstance.

Next came my crime list, the only halfway accurate thing about me. Halfway, because it doesn’t account for what I had done on the Zhaaneph-ruled side of Zebrica. He reads every single charge without so much as an iota of surprise or pause, and it takes him several minutes to go down the list. Off to the side, I see Zakurai’s brows raise as the list continues, as if he were somewhat impressed by all the things I had done. I suppose that my criminal record was impressive to behold, in a twisted sort of way.

When he finally finished and sent me back to the line-up, the other zebras were now looking on at me with wide eyes and surprise, some of them even envy. I couldn’t care less about what they think. I was far more focused on the box-carrying zebra, who was just motioned to approach Zabraxas next.

“Before now, you have known captivity within the walls of your prison. But on this journey, you shall carry your prisons with you.”

The honourguard set the box down and opened it. The swords on our backs lifted off, surprising the others but not me. I couldn’t help the flattening of my ears as one by one, they dipped into the crate, lifting out two halves of a metal collar by the flat of the blade.

“Make no mistake, convicts. Though you are now beyond the walls of your prison, you are not yet free. These, the bonds of the chosen, shall serve as your new cells. Only I may place them. Only I may remove them. And for as long as you wear them, zebras across the land will know you as you are: convicts. Should you think to escape, know that there is no way to remove the bond. No way, save for I. All who see you with the bond will know you as a convict, and will bring you to justice. There is no escaping from your penance.”

Already my teeth were grinding as the swords began flying back towards us, making ready to collar us all. They looked like solid silver, but were in fact pure iridium, and were indeed indestructible to most sources of damage. But he was wrong about one thing: he wasn’t the only one who could remove these accursed things.

“Kneel,” he orders.

Me and the others, of course, do as we’re told. The hairs on my coat stand on end as I feel the cool metal halves slide off the blade and onto my neck, the swords floating at the ready to seal them in. The bastard Prince himself approaches, starting with the mountain zebra off to my side. He takes both halves of the collar in his hooves, clasps them together around the zebra’s neck, and the blade melts the seams together in a matter of seconds, one after the other. All the while, Zabraxas looked him dead in the eye, never blinking.

Credit where it’s due, that mountain stallion gets through the entire collaring process before fainting on the spot. That’s better than most zebras.

Unfortunately, I’m next. But I’ve no intention of fainting.

Unlike the other zebra, I don’t avert my eyes for even a second. Indeed, I focus on his eyes instead. His face was as neutral as ever as he sealed the collar around my neck, but his eyes, as expected, told a different story. I could see, above all else, the kind of moral self-righteousness that only jilted mares and Zhaanephi faithful were capable of, expressed with perfect seriousness. Oh, it brought me to new heights of anger, held back once again by that ever-present will to survive. But I could also see a growing irritation the longer he looked back. Perhaps he is not accustomed to anyzebra looking back at him like this?

I’ll take it. If I can throw even a sliver of this humiliation back into his face without consequence, I will.

Finally, after a few more moments of what I swear was him dragging the sealing process out for longer, he finishes with me and steps away, moving on to the next zebra. The completed metal ring around my neck still held uncomfortable warmth from his blade’s power, but I save touching the accursed thing for another time: a time when I can get some damned privacy.

The other zebras don’t handle the procedure nearly as well as I do, which was understandable. The two stallions stay conscious, but looked like they were about ready to shit themselves. The mare, entitled as she was, tried to throw a fit in an effort to refuse the collaring, only to be marehandled by two honourguards, pinned to the ground, and forced to wear it regardless, as I expected. While all that happened, another honourguard roused the mountain stallion and helped him back up, the zebra visibly shaken by the ordeal. And as Zabraxas returns to his place beside Zakurai, I could see the latter prince look on at the entire scene with well-disguised disdain. A brief flick of his eyes to his cohort and the slight curl of his upper lip revealed his fellow Prince as the root of that disdain.

“Serve us peaceably,” Zabraxas concludes, “And you will earn your freedom.”

All of a sudden, I felt a slight prickling sensation on the back of my neck and heard some very mild tinnitus. I thought it was a symptom of my boiling anger, until I saw the slightest glow to Zakurai’s irises as he looked on at Zabraxas. For his part, he only briefly flicked his eyes back towards the other Prince as his own irises lit up with the same minuscule glow, doubling the still-tiny sensations for a moment.

“Pack your accommodations immediately, chosen, and assemble around the fire once you have. Time is of the essence for our quest.”

Quest? Oh gods, I don’t like the sound of that one bit. Nevertheless, me and the other zebras do as we’re told, returning to the tents. The portable tent is very standard military fare, so it’s quite easy to pack it. The same could not be said for the others, particularly the mare and her little group, not helped by her foul attitude and a refusal to do manual work that only lasted until an honourguard barked at her to do as she was told. The mountain stallion spent his time looking over at me as I packed, attempting to replicate my method for himself, failing, and sheepishly asking an honourguard for instruction, but not help, which they provided.

Regardless, I was the first one back at the campfire. Around me, the honourguards were busying themselves with packing the rest of the camp up, too. And from the Princes’ positioning, it looked to be Zakurai’s turn to speak now. Still, what was that glow to their eyes about? Or the sensation that followed, for that matter? Questions for another time. In any case, he begins once everyzebra is in attendance.

“I’ll get straight to the point then, as we don’t have time to waste.” His voice was smooth and attractive, warm and inviting, and surprisingly devoid of upper-class mannerisms. “Myself and Prince Zabraxas have a mission of great import to carry out, and our first stop on this grand journey is the port of Nanga to arrange for our mode of transport. As this is a time-sensitive endeavour, however, we’ll need to rush things along to make it there in time. Though I don’t expect we will take more than a week to reach the port.”

“We leave at once,” Zabraxas interjected, looking over my group as he spoke next. “It will reflect poorly on you if you fail to keep pace.”

Oh, I’ll keep pace all right, you bastard. It’ll take more than this to break me.

Though Zakurai was annoyed at Zabraxas’s interruption, the entire party nevertheless did indeed set out right away. Zakurai took a moment to reach his hoof out to the fire and absorb the flames into his foreleg in a stream of power, but that was all the packing he had to do.

So, Nanga? We’re to take a ship somewhere, then. And of course, everything else was strictly need-to-know, with me and the other unfortunates very much not needing to know. Can’t say I expected anything else.

We move at a brisk trot all throughout the day with no rest, not even for water; another honourguard carried the water supply on a cart, and had us drink as we moved. For me, this was nothing: I’ve covered more ground at faster speeds before. Not unexpectedly, the mare once again whined, complained, and slowed down, only to be yelled at by another guard to keep moving. The mountain stallion wasn’t doing well either, but was pushing himself to keep going, and made much more reasonable requests for more water, which were obliged. It was fairly obvious he was trying to catch my eye by trying to act tough. I remained unresponsive.

Only when night fell did we stop and set up camp. Me and the plains stallion were the only ones not winded and panting once we stopped, and the mare was on the verge of a breakdown. We ate military rations, but I didn’t expect Zakurai to go out of his way to cook the bland things into something that was surprisingly good. I hadn’t taken him for a chef.

Finally, once I’m left to my own devices in my tent, I start properly touching the damned collar for the first time. Zabraxas had done a good job making the thing seamless, and sure enough, the iridium did not even flex when I squeezed it together with all my might. My feelings on it were slightly more complicated than a blanket hate for what it was and what it represented, because I knew the secret to taking it off. All that I needed to do was match the heat Zabraxas used to seal it together. Which dragonfire could do.

I miss Cinder.

I bury my head in the small pillow. The quiet sigh that leaves me is more morose this time. My goal hadn’t changed: I was going to get her out of the Black Gulch. I just didn’t know if I could survive the Princes first.

I dread sleep for the first time, but it claims me all the same.

Days later...

Once again, I jolt awake from my intense dreaming. My coat was damp with sweat, and my body trembled from the tail end of an adrenaline rush. Groaning, I cover my head with my forelegs as I slump back to the ground, my exhaustion now so heavy that I could feel it causing physical effects.

I don’t know how much more of this I can take. Every time I sleep at night, whether it’s a willing attempt or because my body is forcing me to rest, both Princes’ suns were there. All my mental energy is devoted to escaping their sight, energy I should be recovering with sleep. With us moving constantly, I can’t even take short naps to stave off exhaustion’s toll on me, and the effects were hitting me with full force. My body and mind screamed for proper rest, but they denied it at every turn, simply by virtue of existing near me.

This was torture. Pure, unmitigated torture. And I know the others can see how worn down I am. I’m a good liar and a good actor, but even I’m not that good.

The guards’ hoofsteps are audible outside the tent. They tell me and the others to wake up and pack again. I do as I’m told. Packing the tent up is far harder than it should be, but it’s just so difficult to focus, to coordinate. The morning brings with it the usual sermon on goodness and righteousness by Zabraxas. Even my anger is muted, the burning hate asphyxiated, the fears smothered. All I truly feel is overwhelming, leaden exhaustion, and the total apathy it brings with it.

Things pass in a blur as we get moving, continuing the trek to Nanga.

Sleep. Please, just let me sleep.

My gait has become uneven and shaky. I can feel my entire body going on strike, refusing it’s horrendous working conditions. I don’t even know when or how I found myself collapsed face-down in the arid dirt. I think there’s shuffling around me, maybe some voices? I can’t even tell what’s going on anymore. Basic perception is now beyond me.

Please. I need to sleep. Please.

I can taste something. A drink of some kind. Bitter and gritty. My body relaxes, but not due to my own actions. I barely register this as the effects of a potion of some kind. That’s all I can register before the void takes me.

Murky waters. Ears full. Breathing liquid. Barely moving. Tiny lights. Far away. Should fear. Can’t fear. Can’t move. Can’t think. Feel cold. Tiny warmth. Deep inside. Feels nice. Remember feeling. Feels strange. Feels weak. Feels contained. No light. No yellow. Can’t leave. Trapped inside. Feel relief? See lights. One blue. One red. Body sinking. Deeper below. Lights dimmer. Lights further. Lights gone. Feel relief? Feel relief. Feel nice. Feel good.

Sleep good.

“Mnrgh...”

Even through my eyelids, I see bright light, steadily dimming to a deep orange-red as my eyes adjust. Cracking them open slightly forces me to squint and adjust even more. But I can see the midday sun of Zebrica directly above me at it’s apex.

I feel... strange. Good. Rested. But why would I be rested? I can barely recall the black, sticky memory of my dream, no matter how hard I try. But I wasn’t caught. That much I know for certain.

Wait. I can feel myself moving, despite lying down. The surface is flat, and I feel bumps and jostles every now and then. Am I on a cart?

With a small groan, I make to pull myself up, clutching my forehead as I sit upright. I still have a headache. What little rest I got was insufficient to offset the days of torturous sleep deprivation. I needed more, but knew I couldn’t get more right now. As I sit up, I hear a small gasp and feel the wooden cart stop. I turn my head to see who’s pulling it, finding a mountain stallion unstrapping himself from the cart. I also see the rest of the group ahead.

“Lay back down,” the stallion urgently whispers. “Lay back down!”

“What...?” I groan.

“Just do it!”

Confused, I do just that, but ready myself to bolt at a moment’s notice. The stallion comes around to the rear of the cart, bringing him into full view.

“Oh thank goodness you’re okay,” he exhales. “Y-you are okay, right?”

“What happened?”

“You collapsed this morning. You hadn’t been sleeping well since our majesties took us with them, a-and you just kind of, well, hit your limit.”

Wait, I recognize this stallion. He’s one of the other chosen, the one that wouldn’t stop looking at me. What was his name again? I don’t remember.

His sympathetic eyes shoot upwards in alarm for a moment before he looks back down at me, his look now apologetic. “I have to keep moving, sorry.” He trots back around to the front of the cart, where I hear him strap back in. His voice becomes more hushed. “You can keep talking, just... keep it quiet, okay?”

“Why?” I question, becoming increasingly suspicious.

“You just seem really private, is all. I-I thought you’d like some more time alone. You know, to rest?”

I don’t trust that reason at all. But his tone seems sincere enough, if noticeably nervous. For the moment, I go along with it. But I keep my ear open for any signs of deception.

“Fine.” I shuffle a little, trying to readopt the pose I woke up in as the cart resumes moving. “What happened after I collapsed?”

“W-well, you were still awake, but really delirious. Were you forcing yourself to stay awake?”

Not exactly.

“What happened?” I press.

“Oh! S-sorry. Uhm, well, I volunteered to carry you on this cart until you got better. But I didn’t want to just leave you all sleep deprived, so I, uhm, well, may have foraged around a bit and made you a quick and dirty little sleeping tonic when nozebra was looking.”

“A sleeping—? You drugged me?”

“I didn’t know what else to do!” He sounded genuinely distressed. “It was either do some alchemy behind our majesties’ backs, or leave you to suffer!”

I let out a frustrated nicker. Having had one too many bad encounters with alchemists in my long career of crime, I was reflexively distrustful of their concoctions. Yet, whatever he gave me was... legitimately helpful. Which begs the question.

“What did you give me?”

“Uhm, well, d-don’t tell anyzebra, but I may have mixed up some darkdream. This close to the coast, the ingredients are everywhere!”

Darkdream tonic? Hm. That’s an illegal potion, but only in the Empire. The Zhaaneph, on the other hoof, love the stuff, but mostly because the Empire hates it. And if he knows the recipe...

“You’re former Zhaaneph, aren’t you?”

I could feel the cart lurch a bit from his shock.

“Wh-wha-hu-ho-how-did—?!”

“Oh, relax, would you? You’re acting like I’ll rat you out to Zabraxas.”

“No! I-I-I-uhm well, w-would you?”

I snort. “I’m not planning on telling that vile son of a whore anything,” I growl, my hoof dragging along my collar’s surface. “Your little secret’s safe with me.”

“I-uh-whoo,” That relieved exhale of his slowed the cart down for a moment. “Wow. Uh, y-you really called him that, h-huh?”

“I could call him much worse. And in case you were wondering, I’ve been to the other side before.”

“Oh. I-I see.” He sighed a little. “Darkdream was a dead giveaway, huh?”

“Yes.”

From the subtly different way he was pulling the cart, I’d say he was lightening up a bit. “S-so. Uh. Y-you forgive me, right? A-about the whole tonic thing?”

I sigh. “I suppose. It was helpful. So thank you.”

He made a tiny happy noise at the approval. Cute. I have to admit, it’s nice to have, at the very least, a few minutes of reprieve from worrying about the twice-damned Princes. And yet, I can’t help but wonder why darkdream is even illegal. If it was valuable contraband, I would have been selling it for a tidy profit. But it really was just a common sleeping potion, inexplicably made illegal here for whatever reason. Well, since there’s an alchemist here, and an ex-Zhaaneph one at that...

“Explain something to me.”

“Yes! I-I mean, yes?”

“Just why is darkdream illegal here? If I recall, they treat it as harshly as pink salt.”

“Th-they do. But that’s wrong.” He regains some confidence as he slips into speaking about his passion. “It really is a very simple and effective potion. The only side effect is in the name: it just blacks out your dreams. If you’ve got nightmares, that’s a benefit, not a drawback! I’m not really sure why the Princes banned it.”

My ears perk up at his choice of words. “The Princes banned it? Not the administration?”

“Yeah, it-it’s weird. My teacher always said it was just to spite their people. Well, er, he used way less flattering words, but, well, you know.”

“I know,” I echo, well apprised of Zhaaneph rhetoric.

I really don’t remember much of my dream. Come to think of it, I’m not even sure that my sun ever came out. Wait. Wait, wait, wait! Is that why they banned it? Because it can cut them off from their suns? Did they really ban darkdream tonic because somezebra might be able to drug them with it, and cut them off from dreaming between each other?

Gods. That’s perfect.

“Listen. You said it was easy to make more?”

“Do you need more?”

“I would very much prefer more.”

“So you need more.” Now he was starting to sound cocky.

I give out a tired sigh to assuage his ego. “Yes, I need more. Can you make it or not?”

“A-absolutely! I just, er, well...”

“What?” Ah. I know this kind of nervousness.

“Well, I-I’d like to, w-well, keep a closer eye on you. Y-you know, to watch for any side effects? A-and see if you sleep any better? Maybe try to help if it doesn’t work? I-if that’s all right?”

Mm-hmm. There it was.

“If this is about sex, just say so,” I state bluntly.

“What?!” The cart lurches hard at his outburst, and I can hear voices from up ahead asking what was wrong. “N-no, nothing!” he rapidly exclaims back to them, clearly quite flustered. “Just thought I saw a striped viper, is all! H-hahaha. Yes. But there wasn’t one! I’m fine! I’m fine!”

“Smooth,” I deadpan. “Very smooth.”

“D-don’t just say things like that out loud!” He blurts more quietly back at me.

“Mm-hmm,” I allow myself to chortle. “Definitely former Zhaaneph.”

“Oh, Lord. Er, g-gods. Agh, damn it!” I’ll give him one thing: he’s very cute when flustered.

“Curious how you didn’t deny it, though.” Now it was my turn to sound smug. Gods, I never thought I’d feel genuine amusement on this godsforsaken journey.

“We-w-well that’s— I mean, I-I-I just, no, y-you’re just s-so— eek!”

That last exclamation was fearful. And the cart lurched to a sudden stop soon after. He continued stuttering incoherently at something else, but stopped when we heard a sensible chuckle belonging to Zakurai.

Shit. So much for my reprieve.

“Oh, no need to bow,” I hear him say in a lighthearted, almost friendly tone. “I assume your sleeping beauty is doing well?”

I hear his hoofsteps coming closer, and shut my eyes and go slack to appear asleep. Unfortunately, that didn’t work. And he chose to call my bluff by biting my tail and yanking me right off the cart, drawing a brief cry of surprise from me as I scramble to right myself onto the arid dirt.

“Good morning, convict!” he greets with a wide smile and an almost fatherly tone. “Sleep well?”

After a few seconds of glaring at him from a low stance, ready to bolt at any time, he simply chuckles again.

“Really, there’s no need for this tough colt business, son. If you were having trouble sleeping, you should have said something! Some of our guards are talented alchemists, you know!”

It’ll be a cold day in the hell of boiling oil before I ever trust a concoction from a Prince and his toadies.

“Well, since you’re clearly not having issues, you’d best start walking again!” As he turns away, his head stays turned to me, his tone becoming a bit more serious. “Prince Zabraxas is very unhappy with your little stunt as it is.”

With that, he finally takes his leave. All the while, an honourguard took the cart back from that mountain stallion, leaving both of our tent packs on the ground.

It’s official: I hate Zakurai, too.

“Bastard,” I sigh under my breath, throwing my pack over my back again.

“S-sorry,” he mutters, ears pinned back.

“Don’t apologize.”

I take his pack in my teeth and place it on his back next. Just doing that caused his ears to perk back up, along with bringing some colour to his cheeks. I resume walking, and after a moment’s pause, he catches back up, keeping pace very close to my side.

“Back to what we were discussing,” I continue. “You know how to make more darkdream, yes?”

“Oh! Y-yeah. Actually, I uh, was already kind of stocking up on the ingredients as we were walking. You know, hiding them in my pack?”

“Ah. Stocking up for the boat, I assume?”

“Y-yes! Exactly!”

“Well, then.” My voice lowers and my tone turns husky. “I’ll have to think of a way to repay this random act of kindness, won’t I?”

I was no stranger to sleeping with others to get what I wanted, and this wasn’t an exception. As usual, my tactics were very effective on this shy, somewhat repressed stallion, causing his face to turn bright red. His stammering was quite incomprehensible by now, but I knew what he meant by it: he was just too shy and inexperienced to say yes.

“Remind me again what your name was?”

“Zelac,” he squeaked.

“I think you’re right, Zelac.” I breathed his name more than I said it. “I think you should keep a closer eye on me for the night. Doctor’s orders, and all that.”

“Ohmygoshohmygoshisthisreallyhappening?”

“You’ll have to forgive me though. With so many zebras around, I just won’t be able to make you scream the way I want.” My head lowers to his ear and I breathe my next words into it. “So I’ll just have to settle with making you squeal instead.”

A low whine leaves his throat, and it turns into a strangled squeak when I gently bite his ear. His breathing was laboured and his legs were weak and wobbly, forcing him to start leaning against me for support. I give him a few seconds to recover from the sensual assault before continuing.

“I’m going ahead for a bit, just to see how close Nanga is. Be a dear and keep collecting those ingredients while I’m gone?”

“Y-yes, sir,” he weakly whines.

“Mmm, ‘sir’? So formal. I like it.”

As I slowly pick up my pace to get the view I’m after, I drag my tail along his side. As I pull ahead of him, my tail moves along his chest and gently drags upwards along his neck until his snout was buried in my hair. I treat him to a few seconds of that before finally fully flicking it upwards and shifting into a speedy trot, making sure to leave my tail raised just enough for him to get a barely obstructed view.

“SweetElysianLordaboveI’mnotgonnamakeit,” he whimpers.

With my unexpected source of much-needed nighttime relief sorted, I maintain my quicker pace and gradually move past the crowd of zebras obstructing the horizon. There, I see what I was looking for: the faraway coastline, the deep blue waters of the open ocean glimmering slightly from the sun reflecting off the small faraway waves. Squarely in the middle of my view of the coast was the large, sprawling port of Nanga. A thick, paved road led from it and curved slightly to the right as it ran well past my peripheral vision and straight towards the now nearby city of Zebrat: the thick carotid connecting the heart to the mind, with several branching roads off of this main path like smaller veins and arteries.

We’d be at the port by tomorrow at this pace, without a doubt. If I only knew where in the hells we were going. There were tens of dozens of ports all throughout Zebrica that connected to Nanga. We could be going anywhere.

Wherever we’re going, I certainly hope that Zelac zebra has collected enough to last for that long.

I slow my pace and start returning to the rear of the formation, sparing a glance at Zebrat. From our position, it was about as far away as Nanga was, but was far easier to spot from a distance, thanks in no small part to the huge mesa it was built into. The four tall spires of the Quaternary Palace on the top reached towards the skies like dragon claws, surrounded by the much smaller yet still tall buildings that occupied the rest of the mesa’s top, making up the Royal Canton. A huge ramp had been carved into the mesa’s side, gently spiralling up towards the top of the mesa and connecting to Nanga’s road at the base. There was also a large sprawl of urban structures spreading out from that connecting base as well, making up the Lower Canton. And, of course, there were buildings built right into the side of the mesa’s walls along the ramp, making up the Labour Canton.

I’ve never been to Zebrat before. With both the Princes and the Elders there, there was no way in any of the hells that I was going to set one hoof near that place. I suppose it’s a small mercy that we weren’t going there. At least, not yet.

Gods above, we had better not be going to Zebrat. I don’t think I’d survive the dreams, even with the darkdream tonic.

“Hold, everyzebra,” I hear Zakurai announce, coming to a stop and holding his hoof out to punctuate his command.

Oh, no. What now?

The honourguards rush all around to disseminate his order, though everyzebra naturally started regrouping around him and Zabraxas once they saw he had stopped. Meanwhile, said Princes’ irises were glowing lightly again, with the matching prickly tinnitus on my end. I kept my eyes fixed onto the two of them, wary of whatever they had up their frogs. Indeed, I don’t notice that Zelac had found me until he brushed up right next to me.

“H-hey,” he nervously opens. “Er, wh-what’s going on?”

“Shh.”

He stays silent, though nudges a little closer regardless, no doubt noticing my tension.

“Alright everyzebra, prepare yourselves!” I do not like the coy tone that Zakurai is using, nor the amused smile he’s wearing as he addresses everyzebra else. “We’re finished with the land portion of our journey, but we’re far from done!”

A small fireball springs to life in his frog. His eyes glow a bright orange, and I swear I can see his pupils beginning to glow from the inside, as if light was coming from deep within his eyes. And then something does come out of his eyes: twin streams of tightly compressed and nearly blindingly bright flame, focused onto the fireball in his frog. I reflexively step away upon seeing that display of his Gift, and barely notice the other chosen zebras oohing and awing at the display themselves. The eye flames manifest for three seconds, and once they abate, his pupils waft candle-like flame for another second before winking out and leaving them black once again, never once seeming to harm his eyes. As for the fireball itself, it was now properly blinding in it’s brightness. And with a casual toss of his hoof, he throws it up into the air, where it shoots high into the sky and leaves a contrail of red as it flies.

KA-BANG

I damn near jump out of my coat when the ball explodes far above in the air like a firework, complete with the fire nova and sparkling. The others seem a lot more awed by it.

“That’s not the impressive part, fillies and gentlecolts,” Zakurai chuckles. “That will be arriving any moment now.”

My wondering of what in the hells he could possibly mean by that is resolved when I see something from the direction of Nanga moving in my periphery. Something flying. As it comes closer, my stomach damn near drops clean out of my barrel, my ears flattening in abject shock.

It was a gods-damned sky ship.

But it was nothing like the sky ships I saw fleeing over Farasi. This one had the wooden construction I would see on a traditional sea ship, but the massive overhead balloon it bore was, well, aggressively prominent: I could see the shape of a bird’s head front and centre, squarely in the middle of a massive plume of rainbow-coloured sails, clearly evocative of a bird’s plumage.

Oh hells, I might as well invoke the Zhaanephi Lord on top of the gods at this point. This was so orthogonal to what I had expected that it beggared belief. But if this is what Zakurai was expecting to show up here...

I don’t have anything stronger to invoke than the hells, gods, or the Lord to express my fears. Where was he taking us?!

I lack the capacity to even acknowledge Zelac’s frightened questioning. All I can do is stare dumbly at the vessel as it crept closer, both to us and the ground. The actual ship portion was the size of a medium-size merchant vessel, and had a design to match. At the nadir of it’s descent, it hovered just above the ground and turned sideways, and a large cargo door on the bottom opened outwards. Moments later, a chain-hoisted platform like the one at Greenstone was lowered, carrying...

Birds.

Bipedal birds, garbed in pirate gear and armed with matching cutlasses.

Am... am I seeing things right? Was Zelac’s darkdream tonic laced with psychedelics? I just... refuse to believe this is the reality I am faced with.

One of the strange birds on the platform, evidently the ship’s captain, waved down at everyzebra. Only Zakurai waved back, his booming laughter the only thing to pull me away from the utterly unbelievable sight before me. The other chosen zebras were just as dumbstruck as I was. The honourguards weren’t much better. Even Zabraxas looked taken aback.

Zakurai, meanwhile, trotted up towards the foreign captain, who stepped off her platform to meet him in the middle. They shook hooves, smiled, and laughed with one another. And spoke entirely in a language I did not recognize. I can only assume that he is arranging the details of our transportation. After a few minutes of spirited conversation, he returns to the group.

“Now, I know many of you are frightened by all of this, but I assure you that there’s nothing to fear from the good Captain Celaeno and her crew! With her help, we’ll be at our destination in only a week’s time! Far better than a month at sea, I’m sure you’ll agree! Now, form three groups, all of you. You’ll be loaded on board, one group at a time.”

A month at sea? There’s no place in all of Zebrica that doesn’t take more than two weeks to reach by sea. I’ve only ever heard estimates in the months from the raving madmares who talk about the promised land of the Foenum across the sea, but they’re on the exact opposite side of Zebrica from us. What could possibly be out there that would take a month to reach in a ship?

I... this is too much. I’m starting to feel faint. Of course, I just so happen to be in the group that’s loaded onto that sky ship first. Along with Zelac and that mare. Only she actually did faint, and had to be carried by an honourguard.

“This is amazing,” Zelac gushes beside me, stars in his eyes. “I think we’re going to a foreign land!”

I wish I had an eighth of that naïve excitement. All I’m saddled with is the worst sinking feeling I’ve ever had in my entire life.

Black Hole Sun

Cinder always loved flying. She never let me forget just how much she enjoyed not just the utility of flight, but the sheer, unparalleled freedom it offered. I certainly knew about—and benefited from—the utility of her wings, but only now in these five days since boarding this sky ship do I truly understand just how freeing it must feel to soar through the skies.

A pity that I must experience this while I am not, in fact, free.

“D-duh-do you really have to st-stand so close to the ledge like that, s-sir?”

“If the height bothers you so much, you don’t have to stay.”

“I-I’m just worried about you!”

“I assure you, I’m fine.”

Zelac whines a bit, but ultimately steps back onto the relative safety of the larger deck. Leaving me to lean against the railing leading to the bowsprit, looking down at the crystal clear skies and the dark, deeply blue ocean beneath the sky ship. The ship flew at speeds far in excess of any seafaring vessel, perfectly sufficient to get my mane tossing in the wind in the absence of any inclement weather. But even for the days that did have inclement weather, I was truly not expecting the sky ship to remain as steady as it was, in spite of the high winds. These sky ships really were marvels to behold. I only wish my two interactions with them so far had been on better terms.

This spot at the front had become a place for me to relax, to focus my mind on the tasks that lay before me. With the benefit of real, undisturbed sleep on my side, I could finally begin to formulate plans to escape. Not now, but for when we would inevitably return to Zebrica. Admittedly, there still wasn’t much I could do with the Princes and their honourguards present. But since finding a surprising asset in that Zelac and his ability to make darkdream tonic, simply waiting this farcical sentence out suddenly became a far more tenable option. Since I already knew I wasn’t going to be freed after the conclusion of this tour, that simply meant I would be returned to Greenstone, or tossed into some other much easier-to-escape prison. In the former’s case, that meant my escape plan remained unchanged, since even a month’s time wouldn’t magically undo the tensions I’d sown there. In the latter? Well, with seventeen prison escapes to my name so far—eleven Imperial, five Zhaaneph, and once in the small Z’Haran protectorate’s sole prison—I don’t expect to be held there for more than a month.

I smile a bit at the memory of Z’Hara. An odd little land, what with openly playing host to the migrating United Herd. But surprisingly, they had the least corrupt government I’d seen in Zebrica, as well as some of the kindest zebras I’d ever met. Well, they’ve probably fallen victim to the Zhaaneph army or the hyena warlords by now. A shame if true, but far from an unexpected outcome. Zebrica was a beautiful land, but was just as cruel to match.

I continue to gaze out at the passing ocean for hours on end, content to just immerse myself in my thoughts with only the wind as company. The sun begins to set, tinting everything orange with it’s light. Without sunglasses, it would be stupid to look at it directly, so I keep it only in my periphery. But the moment the light’s intensity hits an all time low, I turn my eyes straight towards it. And just in time, too: a brief pillar of green light flashed in the horizon, just as the sun sank below it.

That’s the first green flash I’ve seen since my last day on Farasi.

With a tired sigh, I turn away from the railing and return below decks, headed for the crew quarters. When they loaded us on board, they packed me and the others into two tiny rooms, easily watched over by both honourguards and foreigner pirates alike. It had the unintended effect of splitting that mare and the other two stallions away from me and Zelac, giving us a degree of privacy I hadn’t expected, but wholly enjoyed. Or rather, took advantage of.

Waiting for me in my room was, of course, Zelac, seated on the small, straw-filled bed and waiting for me with bated breath. I did promise to reward him for his contribution of darkdream tonic, and this newfound privacy allowed me to do just that. For many consecutive days. He was a perfect submissive and a zebra-pleaser at heart, and was enthralled to me from that first night onwards. I doubt he would take a bolt for me, but he was certainly head over hooves for me all the same, which made getting what I wanted that much easier.

He let out a happy little squeal upon seeing me enter, jumping off the bed and hugging my neck the moment I closed the door behind me.

“You’re back!” he chirps.

“First things first,” I hum, Zelac’s ears folding at the more serious tone I used. “You’re sure there’s no more left for tomorrow?”

“I-I’m sorry,” he whimpered, looking up at me with watery eyes. “I-I thought I’d be collecting more ingredients from the walk to Nanga! Y-you know, e-enough for about a month?”

“And there’s no substitutes on board?” I sigh as he shakes his head in response. “Fine. Then I suppose this will be the last night I can enjoy a dreamless sleep.”

“I’m sorry!” He was beside himself with grief, his voice cracking as the tears flowed from his eyes like a waterfall.

I stop that nonsense in it’s tracks by pressing my snout to his, speaking in a lower, more amused tone of voice. “Did I, at any point, ever imply this was your fault?” His eyes shimmered with hope and his ears slowly begin to rise. “Of course I didn’t. Nozebra could have predicted we’d be swept up by a sky ship before we got there, yes?”

When he nods, I make my next move. I dip my snout under his chin and drag my tongue along his jawline, drawing a shaky, trembling yelp from him. With it, I clean away the tears wetting his coat ever so slowly, first on one side of his face, and then the other, and then ending with a slow, wet kiss to his nose. He went completely red in the face well before I had even gotten a third of the way done. And by the time I had finished, he was a whimpering, severely trembling mess of barely contained desire, wearing a tight, equally trembling smile with his pupils constricted to quivering pinpricks, all as he took sharp, shallow breaths through his nose. The only thing holding him together was, as usual, his wish to please me.

Adorable, really. Small wonder his former secret lover’s wife had him arrested. Her envious rage must have required six guards to subdue.

“On the bed,” I order in a low growl. “On your back.”

I swear, he gets more eager each time I order him around like this.

The next day...

I’m not sure what I expected to see when the sky ship finally reached the land. But I can safely say that I hadn’t expected this large, sprawling shanty city to be the first thing to greet me.

I knew something was wrong the moment I woke up, feeling none of the ever-present forward momentum or the subtle trembling of the sky ship’s engines through the floor. Zelac was particularly unhappy about having to extricate himself from my hold when I got out of bed to clean up and see what was going on for myself, but his attitude flipped completely once he saw this strange city for himself. Now he was back to being starry-eyed and awed at all the new sights.

My criminal instincts tell me this place is a buzzing hive of disrepute, in many ways beyond even what Farasi was. For a long time, I strongly considered finding a way to abandon ship here, to make my escape into the thick, familiar mass of individuals that teemed all around. Unfortunately, the Princes saw fit to keep me and the others all confined to the vessel, while the captain and her crew disembarked to deal with the odd creatures on the docks.

Though I couldn’t understand a word of whatever language these strange avian bipeds spoke, I knew the mannerisms of pirates quite well, enough to know that this crew was acting more like a band of privateers than just simple raiders. Though they were clearly instructed not to trust me and the others, it was still surprisingly easy to form a kind of nonverbal rapport with some of them, participating in various games and trying whatever alcoholic swill they had in casks during their occasional feasts. Though I had to hide my true feelings when it came to the alcohol in particular, as I hated drinking. Indeed, I hated anything that made me lose control of myself, which is why I was extremely careful to moderate myself.

I continue scanning the cityscape, looking on at the eclectic mix of races inhabiting it, all speaking a plethora of unknown languages, with the dominant one being whatever Zakurai and the pirates were speaking. Truthfully, that was the second largest issue with my idea of escaping here: it was extremely unlikely I would be able to find a Zebrikaans speaker here, not this far away from Zebrica. Communication was critical to survival in the underworld, and it would be a different type of suicide to just dive in here, without the ability to do just that. Of course, even if I did know how to, the idea of seducing these other races to get what I want was, quite frankly, repulsive. Obvious hygiene issues aside, my taste in partners remained firmly equine, and I had far too much self-respect to bend that line.

The primary issue, however, was that there was no guarantee I would be able to return to Zebrica from here. No guarantee I could free Cinder.

So, with a heavy heart, I’m forced to let this escape opportunity pass me by. The pirates, with aid from the local creatures, load crates full of supplies and barrels full of liquid onboard via the cargo lift. Only some of the barrels are full of more alcohol. The rest are shipped to the engine room. It must be filled with the fuel it requires. I had honestly expected it to be coal-fired; I’ve never heard of an engine that took a liquid to operate, let alone one that didn’t use steam. If there’s one thing this cursed journey has taught me, it’s that the technology on this side of the world is clearly far beyond Zebrica’s, which only makes me curious about what else there might be.

With the sky ship resupplied, it is detached from the cliffside dock and regains it’s altitude above the cloud line before journeying further inland. Below is a great desert, though a mostly static one filled with enormous bones. Nowhere near as dangerous as the likes of the Great Banded Desert, but consequently far less interesting the longer I look at it pass by.

It’s evident from the horizon that there will be far more desert to fly though, and the ship’s engines weren’t running as fast as they were above the ocean, no doubt due to the noticeably higher ambient heat. So after only an hour of looking down at the desert, I return below deck to find other ways to occupy my time. Exploring more, gauging potential weaknesses and egress points, playing table games with the pirates I still don’t fully understand, the usual fare, really.

If nothing else, I’m able to once again end the night with Zelac on a pleasurable note, so at least there’s that variety of relief available to me. As I try to settle in to sleep, already dreading having to share a dream with the damned Princes again, I’m at least entertained by the noises coming from the room with the other chosen zebras. That entitled tail-lifter was very happy to be alone with those two stallions the first day, but evidently they weren’t up to her expectations, if the sudden cessation of thumping and groaning after the third day was any indication. Now, she and the other two just yell at each other, broken up only by her pitching a fit, clearly frustrated about being unsatisfied in the bedroom.

Secondary school never truly ends for some zebras. I’ll give it another day or two before she begs me to sate her next. I’m still split on whether I’ll reject her advances and relish watching her seethe about it, or if I’ll utterly ruin other stallions for her when she does come crawling.

The prairie stretched out as far as the eye could see, a veritable ocean all unto itself. The gentle breeze swept across the tall, yellow-green grass, tousling them in waves not dissimilar to the waves of the ocean. All while the gentle light of the slowly setting moon illuminated all. Not a single obstruction was present, not even so much as a single shrub: grass was all there was. Most importantly, however, that also meant that there was no real place to hide, beyond crouching in the grass.

This was quite possibly the worst environment I could have been thrown into.

The yellow sun was a few metres directly over my head, and was about the size of my head as well, anchored by a stream of power into my back. Since embarking on this cursed journey, it has started becoming more and more attached to me, more willing to listen, more willing to obey. So it was then, that it immediately flew into my outstretched hooves and began to shrink in size as I made to lay in the grass, taking cover from what I knew would be coming.

The twin dawns on opposite sides of the skyscape, one blue and one red, heralded their arrival. The yellow sun shrank enough to fit into my frog, just in time to allow me to clasp it between both front hooves and hide it’s light from view, held close to my chest. It hated hiding like this as much as I did. It wanted to burn and destroy. I wanted to live.

As the two suns quickly rise, they form a binary system when they reach the centre of the sky, slowly orbiting one another. The temperatures of both suns cancel one another out, leaving only an intense light. The light slowly swung through rosy-red, magenta, and violet colours as the suns revolved, and swung back just as slowly. Most importantly, the suns were also anchored to their respective Princes with a stream of power. And those streams were converging somewhere off to my side.

And they were only a few metres away from me.

I could hear their indistinct, whispered conversation from here, but I didn’t dare move from my prone position, hoping the tall grass would be sufficient to hide me from their view. As I listened, their words gained clarity and volume. But they did not gain meaning. Their language was a bizarre, familiar kind of foreign that made no sense to me: it was definitely Zebrikaans, but it was also definitely not. I can’t make anything of it. All I can make out is the emotions and intonations. I hear monotony from Zabraxas, and frustration from Zakurai.

Their streams of power begin to move closer to me at an angle. I remain still, but my heart begins to pound in my ears.

Your cyberpunk samurai massacre through Night City’s furry district was brought to a halt as you felt something for once in your dreamscape prison. A tingling all along your back, of a kind that felt real familiar. The scenery and your make-believe equipment melts away, first like ink running down paper, and then dissolving into fog, leaving you naked once again in the void with nothing but ol’ Sunny up there to keep you company.

Oh yeah, you’ve definitely felt this before: this is the same feeling the Staff of Sacanas had when it used to chat you up. Man, feels like forever ago, now. At first, you think it is the staff, finally revealing itself. But it takes mere seconds to realize that no, it is not, in fact, the magic stick in question. For one thing, the weird spiritual fondling was barely there, almost unaware of your presence. No, it was unaware of you. The feeling was more like bumping into a stranger than the active fondling between man and staff. And there was, hmm... One, two, maybe...? Ahh, yeah, there is a third one there somewhere, hiding real good-like! Wonder why?

Well, ain’t this a welcome break in the monotony? Well, what kinda host would you be if you didn’t reach out and say hello to these newcomers?

A horrible chill runs down my spine. Even the yellow sun shivers in the frogs of my hooves. I feel... something in the air. Something different. Something deeply, horribly wrong. At first, I think it’s because of the other two Princes. But their streams of power were reeling and undulating, and for once, their suns were actually shrinking away, like the yellow one might have done if it were in the sky, too. I could hear surprise and alarm in Zakurai’s unintelligible voice, and Zabraxas’s tone held a twinge of... something. Discomfort? Disturbance?

The light of the two suns begins to dim. And then, the beginnings of a third source of light makes itself known. This one was green, but not like any green I had ever seen before. It was harsh, bright, and a completely unnatural shade. The two suns shrink in size and fly back down to the ground, coming to a stop above their respective Princes as their connections become thicker and more powerful. In so doing, their light fades from the sky and becomes localized around them, leaving the sky black and star-filled once again. I hear the two Princes’ tones become deathly serious, and they begin galloping away together, taking their suns with them.

Risking a look, I keep holding the yellow sun to my chest with one hoof as I slowly push myself upright, my head finally cresting above the grass. What I see in the distance requires a double take to ensure I am seeing it correctly.

A fourth sun was rising. But I’m not even sure one could call it a sun. Though it had the necessary luminescence, the form was nothing like a solar body: while large parts of it were in fact the expected solar plasma, an equally large part of it was some kind of crystal. The entire body was deformed and non-spherical, and it was in a constant state of fracture and self-destruction, constantly warring with itself over whether it would be a sun or a crystal, and emitted bursts of strange green lightning each time it’s surface broke in the process, leaving it wreathed in power.

I didn’t need a visual to know that there was something deeply wrong here. It wasn’t that it was intimidating, which it was. It wasn’t that it felt wrong, which it did. It was that it felt... otherworldly. Alien. Like nothing that was native to Equus. Nowhere was that more evident than it’s harsh, green light: a hue I am certain has never even been dreamt of by any worldly species before. As it slowly rose, the sky did not become lit with it: the stars remained perfectly visible, as if no sun had risen at all.

Then, the alien sun split in half and ripped itself apart. The parts remained cohesive through enormous streams of power anchoring them together, as much lightning as they were fire. The sounds that power made were loud, deep, piercing, and wholly unnatural. In it’s split-open core, something descended downwards to the ground, linked by multiple streams of power connected to each still-splintering piece of the alien sun that somewhat amalgamated into one frayed stream as they converged on that central point. The sun’s parts smashed back together into it’s fracturing whole again shortly after releasing that something, but the multitudinous streams linked to it remained.

It defied what little I knew about these suns, but I’m certain that whatever it just released was the individual linked to the sun. But I couldn’t see who—or what—it was from this distance. The other two Princes and their comparatively natural suns continued to approach, bearing straight for this still-descending new individual. I look down at the tiny yellow sun in my frog, and silently beg it to stay out of sight. It floats around and nestles against the back of my neck, where my mane began, allowing me the use of all my legs and letting me break into a gallop to get a look for myself, never forgetting that avoiding detection and staying alive was still my priority.

I still couldn’t see the individual properly, but it eventually made landfall. I knew immediately by the way the ground shook and trembled, throwing my gait off for a moment. In a large radius around the unknown individual, the ground beneath it began to fracture, crack, and eventually sink into the ground, forming a kind of crater. It was as if the very land itself was trying to distance itself from this strange new being. The two Princes leap down into this crater once they are close enough, taking their suns with them and putting them out of view. That did not comfort me, as the green, alien sun still hung overhead, replacing one set of fears with another.

I slow to a stop at the lip of the crater, deciding it wise to not descend into it myself. Finally, I can see the individual in question.

The sight leaves me with more questions than answers.

It was a biped of some kind. It almost looked similar to an ape of some description, but like none I had seen before. It’s skin was devoid of hair, and was a green colour: not the same green as the alien sun above, but green nonetheless. It was muscular and toned, an obvious recipient of lots of physical training. It’s completely exposed genitalia gave it away as male, but the presence of actual nipples on it’s chest confused me on that point for a moment. It’s eyes were strangely small yet very expressive, were forward-facing like that of a predator, and it had a protruding nose, but no snout.

It was the look in those eyes that caused me to shiver. I’ve seen many looks before over the years. But none quite like this. It’s look of curiosity and excitement was set against a backdrop of insanity, of a variety I haven’t seen before and could not identify. And it was regarding both Princes with a wide, toothy grin, revealing teeth that at first I thought were carnivorous, but quickly realized were omnivorous.

I only realized that point as it began to speak to the other Princes, it’s arms extended in a welcoming gesture. It’s language was both foreign and unintelligible, yet held amusement and an undercurrent of danger. The streams of power it had to it’s sun were connected all along his rear side like cables or puppet strings, linked to his limbs, torso, and especially along his spine.

I could hear Zakurai replying in that same foreign language, and to say he was hostile and unhappy would be quite the understatement. Strangely, he spoke as if he knew this... alien. In response, the alien threw his head back and laughed. As Zakurai continued to speak, the creature looked on at him with unhidden amusement. Zabraxas spoke up as well, but in that unintelligible Zebrikaans: it was clear he couldn’t understand the two’s words. Said Prince was becoming increasingly hostile and agitated towards the alien, and his sun’s core leaked power that formed an arc of energy blades around him. The alien looked on with heightened mirth, as if Zabraxas only registered as an amusement rather than a threat. Despite Zakurai’s plea to Zabraxas to not do anything, the latter disregarded the advice and charged forward, leaving a trail of frost in his wake.

A simple smile crossed the alien’s face and his eyes lidded as Zabraxas ran closer. He reached out and extended his fingers towards him. And with a loud, blaring, and unearthly electric noise, green power burst forth from his hand like lightning, moving too fast to avoid and striking Zabraxas dead-centre. He was thrown against the crater’s wall like a ragdoll, leaving a smaller crater with the impact. But the alien was not finished with him: the lightning continued to flow as he used it to yank him from his impact point and send him crashing into another wall of the crater, and then another, until finally he recalled his power after three such impacts.

I looked on with my jaw hanging open. Zabraxas laid in a heap, dazed and weak, his sun a small ember compared to what it once was. This alien had completely beaten him back in the span of mere seconds. Zakurai leapt to his side, his mane transformed into a living flame. He held his fellow Prince close and reached for his sun. Just like my own reaching, his body lit up with his angry red flames, spreading from the hoof he reached with. He yelled something at the alien, something defiant yet ultimately ineffectual. Then, the two Princes and their suns were engulfed in a sudden inferno of red fire. And in the next moment, they were gone, presence and all.

The alien laughed to himself, thoroughly amused. But his amusement gave way to some level of concern as he spoke to himself more softly, rubbing his chin in thought.

And then he turned his head in my direction. And looked directly at me with a knowing smile. As if he had always known I was there.

With a small yelp, I turn tail and start running for my life. Picking up on my need to escape, the yellow sun lights me on fire as I run, causing the grass around me to combust as I pass through it. However, I’m forced to skid to a stop when a wall of unstable green power erupts to life in front of me, fired down from on high by the alien sun and igniting the grass on it’s own. I spin around to find a different avenue of escape, only to see the alien standing directly in front of me. I fall onto my haunches and then onto my back, terrified out of my wits.

And yet, he does not attack. Rather, he looks down at me with curiosity. As my vision begins to turn yellow, he squats to get a closer look at me. He speaks. I don’t understand the words, but I have a good idea of what he was asking, even as everything melts to yellow, and then to white.

‘Who are you?’

Huh. Well ain’t that something? Three entire cyphers, come to make sweet, sweet synchronicity with lil’ ol’ you! And to top it all off, each one of ‘em is a zebra.

Your mere presence begins to turn this entire weird dream-prairie into a burning wasteland, helped by ol’ Sunny up there randomly lashing out at the land. And yet you could not give less of a shit, choosing instead to hum and lose yourself in thought. Given what you already know about Zebrica, you think it’s fair to say that these guys would have to be some of those Princes you’ve read about.

Or at least, the two you just Count Dooku’d definitely were. That third guy, just sat there hiding and watching? Doesn’t exactly fit the profile. Of course, he could still totally turn out to be the secret Obito mastermind behind them all, but given his lack of a weird swirly mask and mangekō sharingan, coupled with how legitimately shit-scared the guy looked? No, he looked like he was just trying not to be noticed by anyone. Didn’t seem like he wanted to be here at all, really. So that’s worth keeping in mind.

But the far bigger question is: what are some of Zebrica’s Princes doing way the fuck out in Equestria, of all places? You’re fairly certain they only stick to their home turf, so what’s the occasion? You?

Oh. Yeah. It’s probably you. You know what, you figured that those princesses would do some major homework on cyphers after you were beaten. But you sure as shit didn’t expect ‘em to outright call some ‘good’ cyphers over for their expertise. That’s... uh...

Well, shit. That’s gonna complicate your escape a bit, isn’t it? Go figure, the good guys finding new and inventive ways to fuck you even harder.

Snrk. Good guys, those zebras. That’s a good one. You’re fairly certain those guys were speaking Dutch. And any Brit will tell you that the Dutch are as evil as they come.

I wake with a start, yet not quite as exhausted as I expected to be.

“M-Mister Zobachi!” Ever the cuddler, Zelac is quick to latch onto me in some attempt to calm me down. “A-are you okay?”

“Not really, no,” I groan, rubbing my forehead.

“D-duh-do you need me to—?!”

“Shush. I need to think.”

He hums with concern, but obeys me regardless, nuzzling against my neck.

What fresh new addition to the hells was that? Who was that? No, what was that? And why did Zakurai seem to know who that was? Wait. Wait, no. No, don’t tell me...!

Was this entire journey to a foreign land to interact with who or whatever the hells that was? Or to fight him? Kill him? Capture him? I can’t imagine how anyzebra— no, anyspecies could face off against something like that, with such a twisted and powerful Gift. At least, if his appearance in my dream was any indication. I never thought I’d see Zabraxas of all zebras just... swatted aside like a fly, with barely any effort. I’ll admit, it was... exceptionally cathartic, with the benefit of retrospect.

What I can’t figure out is why that alien didn’t kill me afterwards. He certainly could have. Hells, he went out of his way to chase me down. And yet, he let me escape. Why?

My ears perk up and my thoughts are interrupted when I hear a rush of hoofsteps outside the cabin door. Concerned yet curious, I pull myself from the bed, much to Zelac’s dismay, and open it enough to look through. Honourguards rushed down the hall and towards the Princes’ quarters, and I can hear Zakurai’s voice calling to them, a noticeable strain in his tone.

It’s only when I hear that strain that a thought occurs to me. A thought that brings a tiny yet wicked smile to my face.

“Don’t tell me...!” I exclaim under my breath.

“S-sir?” Zelac says as he sidles up against me, voice filled with concern.

Engaging my charms, I turn my head and press my nose against his, his face turning red and his ears flattening as he shares breath with me.

“I need to check on something out there,” I tell him. “Be a dear and keep the bed warm for when I get back?”

As usual, he stammers for a moment, but soon relaxes with a swoon at the mere thought of more intimacy with me, all too happy to obey me if it meant even the chance of having more.

“Yes, sir,” he croons through his goofy smile.

I reward his obeisance with a kiss to his forehead. “Good boy.”

A drunken giggle comes tumbling out of him, and I’m fairly certain I saw little hearts pulsing in his lidded eyes. Regardless, he doesn’t try to stop me as I open the door and enter the hallway, heading straight towards the Princes’ quarters. Once there, I see the entrance to the quarters guarded by six honourguards in total, the door left ajar. And within, I see another two honourguards and Prince Zakurai tending to a heavily breathing and prone Zabraxas. And Zakurai himself looked quite exhausted, with some dark rings under his eyes.

My glimpse only lasts for a few seconds before the honourguards outside approach me, demanding to know what I’m doing here. Of course, I half-lie to them and say the sound of their hoofsteps woke me, and I was curious about what was going on. To which they order me to return to my quarters immediately. Which, of course, I do. They don’t see the wide, dark smile on my face as I round a few corners and get out of their sight.

It is what I thought! The same thing that happens to me, just happened to them! Oh, what sweet catharsis this is! Doesn’t feel good, does it, you bastards? Doesn’t feel good to be robbed of your sleep like that, does it now? And seeing Zabraxas laid on the floor like that, oh gods above! That alone makes up for my own bout of dream-induced exhaustion, and as I re-enter my quarters, I can’t help the dark little cackle that I finally allow to leave my throat.

“O-oh, back so soon?” Zelac, obedient as ever, looks down at me from the comfort of the bed, pulling the sheets closer with his forelegs. “You, uh, look really happy, sir.”

“I am very happy,” I chuckle, sauntering over towards him.

“Oh! W-well, uhm, good! I-I’m glad that you’re happy! Y-you look really good when you’re—”

I silence him by covering his mouth with a hoof, and keep him silent with my lidded eyes. I peel the sheets back with my teeth and climb onto the bed, forelegs on each side of his head as I stand over top of him, looking down into his increasingly hopeful and excited eyes.

“The only noise I want to hear from you right now,” I purr, “Is the sound of your squealing. Do I make myself clear?”

He lets out an incredibly happy squeal, morphing into giggles as I descend upon him.

I’ll worry about what the future holds later. Right now, I intend to celebrate this little victory for the next ten minutes, at the very least.

After having my fun with Zelac, I leave him to recover and regain the ability to walk as I clean up in the shower and head back above deck, returning to my spot at the front of the ship. Now that I’d enjoyed my brief moment of victory, it was time to fully appraise the reality of this situation again.

And that began with acknowledging that my victory was by proxy, and was at the hooves—or rather, hands—of whatever that strange alien in my dream was. And that once the Princes had recovered from their little setback, they would undoubtedly return with a vengeance. Again, I had to assume that their purpose for coming to this faraway foreign land was tied to that strange, unmistakably evil alien with his own twisted yet exceptionally powerful Gift.

If their goal was to defeat him, I doubt they could, not without at least some help from whatever other foreign powers may be in this land. Assuming there were any, that is. If their goal was instead to capture him, then ignoring the same impossibility of achieving that goal, that meant that they must intend to take him back to Zebrica; the Four Lines are extremely protective of the Gift, to the point where they actively prune any extant family branches outside of their rigidly controlled breeding programs.

Which is why they’d kill me if they knew what I was. Or worse.

Or worse...? Wait, if capture is the intent, then they may very well intend to do worse! Yes, yes, that’s right: the Princes weren’t perfect, despite their posturing and all the Empire’s propagandizing to the contrary. Gifted members of the Lines, or even full Princes and Elders, do go bad, and they need a place to imprison them.

Deepscorn Hollow.

It’s virtually unknown in the Empire, and kept that way on purpose, but is spoken of in hushed whispers by the Zhaaneph as part of their raving, incoherent prophecies on the mortal reincarnation of their Lord. From what little I knew beyond the name, Deepscorn was just such a prison for those with the Gift, where their abilities were either removed, suppressed, or rendered ineffective, depending on which story I hear. Nozebra knew where it was exactly, because of course nozebra would just happen to know the location of a secret prison. But it was largely agreed upon that it had to reside somewhere deep within the Great Banded Desert. That made sense to me: travelling that enormous, scorching, and ever-shifting hell on Equus required either a death wish, extensive preparation with at least twice one’s body weight in water alone, or being a member of the Zhaaneph’s desert raiders, who apparently had special armour and alchemy to stave off the heat and retain as much water as possible. All in order to attack Imperial settlements near the Desert without any fear of reprisal, as pursuit would be suicide.

So if capture is indeed their goal, they must intend to take him to Deepscorn. Even if you did escape from the facility itself with nothing but the rags on your back, you would be surrounded by certain death for tens, if not hundreds of kilometers.

Well, seeing how he hasn’t tried to kill me yet, and in the absence of all other knowledge of that strange alien, I can only wish him the best of luck in that regard. I’ve had many a nightmare on what that place might be like, and have no desire to join him in experiencing the real article.

With my thoughts concluded for now, I turn my eyes down to the quickly passing landscape below. The expansive desert from yesterday night had apparently long since passed by while I slept, leaving us flying above a sizable stretch of badlands now. In the horizon, I could see vast green expanses of varying shades in the far distance, and could make out the shape of several snow-capped mountains, reminding me of the Alchemist Peaks back in Zebrica. One of those mountains, easily the tallest and seemingly freestanding, seemed different somehow, but at this distance, I couldn’t quite tell what that difference was.

The badlands ended after nearly half an hour of continued flight, giving way to vast, dull, yellow-orange plains. I could see a settlement of some kind after only a few minutes, surrounded by trees that were clearly not native to the area. I overhear the captain of the ship barking some more orders, and I turn to see the other bipedal avian pirates hard at work around the ship, followed by me feeling the ship beginning to lose altitude. Looking back down to the ground, I indeed see the ground coming closer, that settlement in particular.

The ship descended several hundred metres below the cloud level before levelling back out and continuing to move forward, bound for that tall mountain I observed beforehoof. The pirates were clearly quite excited about being in this land again, but unfortunately, I turn to observe them just as the damned Princes emerge again from below deck, honourguards in tow. Zakurai seemed to bounce right back from his little dream encounter, no doubt with some alchemic assistance. Zabraxas, on the other hoof, still looked rough, and I could see an undercurrent of anger in his otherwise still neutral expression.

I guess somezebra isn’t used to not getting his way. Or losing, for that matter. Ahh, such a poor, tender little angel foal, experiencing defeat like the rest of us mere mortals. Oh, the equinity of it! Bastard.

One of the guards calls out for me and the others to present ourselves before the Princes again, and of course, I do so, this time while fighting to keep the smirk off my face. Zelac is the last chosen to arrive, his legs still slightly wobbly from what I’d done to him. With everyzebra assembled, Zakurai begins speaking.

“You have all done well to come this far, to bear the rigours of travelling beyond the borders of our fair Zebrica. But I must now ask for even more of you. In mere hours, we will be reaching the halfway point of our grand journey. We will soon be arriving at the city of Canterlot, the capitol city of the kingdom of Equestria. Ergo, the land we have just passed into mere minutes ago.

“This land,” he continues, pacing in front of us as he speaks, “Is the home of the ponies, our distant equine cousins. It has been over ten centuries since zebrakind has reached out to the ponies of Equestria, back during the reign of the Old World. And as you might imagine, the Old King of that time repulsed ponykind with his crass, barbaric manners.”

Hah. Badmouthing the Old World like that, especially the Old Kings, will earn you multiple death sentences on the Zhaaneph side of Zebrica.

“But we are a new people now. And just as you five are atoning for your mistakes now, so too will our people atone for a much older mistake: our poor treatment of our long lost cousins. Thus, my command to you now is this: to be on your best behaviour, and to remain aboard this ship. As part of our own people’s atonement, we will be cooperating with Equestria and it’s allies to seal away a great evil that has ravaged their land, and brought ponykind teetering on the edge of destruction.”

I knew it. That is what they’re here for! Who else but a wielder of the Gift could bring an entire people to the edge of ruin?

“As part of our cooperation, we will be joined on this ship by six great heroes of the kingdom of Equestria: the bearers of Equestria’s Elements of Harmony, and their leader, Princess Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight Sparkle? What kind of name is that? It sounds so... juvenile.

“We will also be joined by a force of Equestria’s finest soldiers, soldiers that to them are just as our exalted honourguards are to us, to aid in the transportation and defence of this evil. I expect you all to afford them the same deference you would afford to our own honourguards. In addition, this great evil has ravaged more lands than just Equestria, and as such, our airship shall be escorted by two of the newest and most advanced combat airships, developed and helmed by the hippogriffs of Mount Aris, to further secure this great evil against any that would attempt to free it.

“Though we zebras cannot speak Ponish, nor can our cousins understand Zebrikaans, we all speak the common language of courtesy and respect. Treat our new allies with the respect they are due. Your actions now will reflect on our entire species. Give them our best, so that we may see their best in turn.”

With that, he turns around, looking away from us all. “That is all. As you were.”

Well, I have to give Zakurai credit where it is due: he’s a very good speaker. Still, the unease of encountering a new species of equine was weighing on the other chosen. Well, except for Zelac, who seemed over the moon about the idea. I was too worried about other things, like that strange alien wielding the Gift, to worry about some new race of equines I’ve no real reason to care about.

I trot back towards the bowsprit railing to overlook the now much closer, and therefore much more detailed terrain. This time, Zelac’s excitement overrides his fear of heights, and he stands next to me, gushing about this development.

“Isn’t this incredible?!” he squeals. “We’re not just going to a foreign land, we’re going to a whole blessed kingdom of new people! New equines, no less!”

“You do know there are other equines back in Zebrica, right?”

“Yes, but these ones are new! And probably not evil, either!”

I suppress a snort. Living with dragons for so long has done wonders to disabuse me of so many common zebra superstitions and misplaced feelings of superiority, I often forget that even the most naïve of zebras would still harbour them in some measure. The kelpies were definitely not evil, just territorial to an aggressive fault, much to the chagrin of the merchant fleets. And the abadas just wanted to be left alone, not that the Empire cared what they thought. The only real argument for evil could be made about the blackhorn abadas specifically, and even then, I don’t know them well enough to judge, especially given the wild rumours that circulate on them, often crossing into the realm of ridiculous.

Zelac continues to wax poetic about this new species. I’ll reserve my judgment for when I see them in zebra. I remained far more concerned about this ‘great evil’. Obviously, we’ll have to share a ship with it once it’s captured, assuming it isn’t already neutralized, which in all likelihood meant another addition to my damned dreams. But of particular concern to me was the fact that it saw me. It knew what I looked like now. It would find me again, I’m sure of it.

And most unsettling of all was that I still don’t understand why it didn’t kill me when it had the chance. Just what in the hells was it’s game?

Two Princes

A few cheery calls from the sky ship’s avian crew heralded the vessel’s descent, bringing it’s height to, by my rough estimate, about half a kilometre above the ground, a fraction of what it was before. It was fairly obvious that they did this to allow everyzebra aboard to sight-see, but I certainly wasn’t about to complain about getting a much more detailed look at this foreign land. There was a protest to be made, however, in the fact that I was now not alone in my observations. Before, I seemed to be the only zebra who gave a damn about observing my surroundings. Now that the Princes were also observing the land this close to our presumed destination, all of a sudden the other chosen found the land far more interesting than their petty, self-aggrandizing drama.

Though I suppose Zelac was something of an exception. From the beginning, he was very excited about all of the new sights, but not enough to override his fear of heights before this moment, when everyzebra decided to start doing it. That still makes him guilty of meekly bending the knee and following the herd, but that’s by far the lesser sin when compared to the other self-absorbed cretins I’m forced to share space with. Although, I was legitimately surprised to see Zakurai looking down at the landscape with unhidden interest, even a bit of excitement. Though I didn’t care enough to decipher what was beneath Zabraxas’s neutral mask.

Turning my eyes back to the lands around us, Zelac at least has the wherewithal to stay mostly quiet beside me as his head darts all around, greedily drinking in the sights. I hadn’t noticed this at the sky ship’s prior height before, but the path I saw stretching from that settlement in the plains, the one with the trees, was no path at all. Rather, it was two straight lines of metal, joined at equal distances by wooden boards beneath. The actual hoof paths were simply trodden dirt, and wound and snaked exactly like I expected them to. That begged the question of what purpose those metal lines served, if they were not some kind of path.

I would get my answer only minutes after wondering. As our flight continued, I saw something on the lines in the far distance, emitting a plume of smoke that gave away both it’s presence and the high speeds it was travelling at. My eyes widened slightly in genuine surprise when I saw what was using that metal-lined path: it was an enormous machine! A steam-driven vehicle moved very quickly along the special path, it’s wheels locked onto the equidistant metal lines and finally revealing their purpose as rails. A loud steam whistle sounded out as it passed underneath the sky ship, carrying the faint smell of coal smoke as it travelled. Strung behind it was a surprisingly large quantity of large, box-like carts that it somehow pulled along with ease under it’s power, each a little smaller than the vehicle itself and of a fairly uniform size. Each one was joined to the other in segments like a centipede, and had their own set of wheels anchored to those rails. The one at the front was a rail-cart full of coal, seven more had windows indicative of passengers, and the final nine were for transporting cargo, not dissimilar to how merchant vessels did.

What a curious invention. A land-bound transport ship, with the flexibility of being modular? I could certainly see the utility such a vehicle would provide. Zelac, of course, loses his mind upon seeing the vehicle, beside himself with foal-like glee and gushing with questions I don’t have answers to. I let him get it out of his system.

Either way, now that I knew the purpose of those ground rails, I can’t help but note how the sky ship was following their general path. The obvious inference is that they must lead to major towns and cities, no doubt servicing their equivalent of ports. The plains and grasslands slowly turn to a yellowish green as the sky ship approaches a very large gorge with a similarly large river flowing rapidly through it. A single large bridge crossed it’s length, carrying the ground rails in it’s centre and the hoof paths along the sides, each different path on the bridge separated by guard rails.

I blink a few times at the lands beyond the gorge. I wipe my eyes and shake my head a bit to ensure my vision is working correctly. And upon verifying that my eyes were not, in fact, deceiving me, my mouth hangs slightly agape at the unbelievable sight before me.

The lands below us were lush, to a degree I thought was absolutely impossible. Great rolling fields of thick, healthy green grass dominated the right side of the ground rails, stretching out far into the distance and broken up occasionally by patches of beautiful, vibrant flowers and groves of large, thick trees that all bore dense, leafy green foliage. The flowers and trees were all of species I’d never seen before, much less thought were capable of existing. To the right of those ground rails was an enormous, darker green forest of even larger and wilder looking trees that itself stretched out for a great distance. The unkempt, sun-blocking density of the forest’s foliage stirred my primordial senses of danger the same way other natural Zebrican dangers did. And the smell of the plant life reached my nose during my observations, the sheer healthiness and palpable fertility of it all almost suffocating in how juxtaposed it was to the rest of Zebrica.

I’ve never seen so much green before. Even the Ridge of Cultivation, one of the Alchemist Peaks, isn’t as lush and green as this. I never would have imagined that a place greener than that could possibly exist. None of this seemed real.

And yet, it remained a constant as the sky ship continued it’s path, crossing yet another river with smaller, individual wooden bridges for the ground rails and hoof traffic. Said paths and ground rail converged into a moderately sized town, with tall, colourful structures of various designs all arranged around a much larger and red-roofed circular structure, it’s very design language completely foreign to Zebrican standards. My eyes, however, were quickly drawn towards a truly bizarre and out of place structure near the town: a towering crystalline tree with structures built into it, prominently displaying a six-pointed star as part of it’s design. The sky ship, however, was not aiming for this strange tree, instead continuing it’s path along the ground rail towards the now much closer mountain.

And with the sky ship now closing in on said mountain, my eyes widen even more at the enormous city I could now see built into it’s side. Even from this distance, the sheer opulence of the city far and away eclipsed that of Zebrat: it wasn’t even a contest. I’m certain that even the Zhaanephi capitol, the secret ‘holy’ city of Zhar-Toba, would pale in comparison to this, even in the feverish imaginations of their faithful. This must be the Equestrian capitol of Canterlot that Zakurai spoke of.

Beyond the beautiful, glimmering white marble of it’s construction, the colourful, spiralling- and bulbous-headed tall towers, and the liberal use of gold, fine fabrics, and glittering gems to decorate the structures, there was also the matter of what the city did with the great waterfall cascading down the side of the mountain. Part of that water was funnelled into large, saucer-like reservoirs that poured like overfilled ewers into yet more reservoirs below, all arranged in a decorative stack of cascading waterfalls. From the final basins in the stack, the water was channelled into artificial rivers that flowed through the city itself, until those finally fell as one last series of waterfalls from the city’s edges, emptying into a lake far below and bathing the land beneath the falls in a fine, windblown mist, creating a constant rainbow that, from this height, was completely circular. It was, in and of itself, another display of power and opulence: the kind that had the power to either carve out it’s own rivers and waterfalls, finance such an endeavour, or more likely, both. Indeed, the volume of water needed for the entire display was, quite frankly, impossible to source from a mountaintop of all places, at least not with the means I knew of. Elysium only knows how they had accomplished it anyways.

All along the mountain, three parallel ground rails spiralled up it’s diameter along with the normal roads, and passed through stations in the outlying large towns near the city, themselves mounted into the mountain wall just like the city itself: it’s unique conception of suburban sprawl, no doubt, given the similar design language. Finally, the ground rails were carried by stone-buttressed and reinforced yet skeletal wooden bridges, and the roads were carried by beautiful smooth stone arched bridges, as both finally terminated into the presumed city of Canterlot.

As the ship began it’s descent towards the impossibly grand city, slowing it’s pace to effectively dock with it, I spare a look at the other zebras. Zelac was speechless, though I expected him to be elated beyond measure when he recovered from the shock. The other chosen were, of course, blown away by the sights. Zakurai looked legitimately excited to be here. Indeed, he even looked humbled at the sights, which was a surprising thing to see in a zebra, let alone a Prince. As for Zabraxas? Well, I’ve been in enough lovers’ spats and relationship drama to see envy disguised as disdain when I see it. Seems he doesn’t like the idea of another species being better than us, equine or not. Very unlike his fellow.

Hah. Were he not born a Prince, he would be a fantastic Zhaaneph.

But the sliver of amusement I draw from my musings is only a small ebb in my appraisal of the reality of the situation before me. I will not deny it: I am incredibly nervous about these “ponies”. How could I not be? Ignoring the vast and healthy land they presumably held claim to, beyond their large towns that looked wealthier than most Zebrican cities, one look at the impossible mountain city before me was enough to make me deeply nervous. What kind of species could create grand works like this? Was it a function of a strange power they held? Was it a consequence of sheer determination to succeed and flourish? Was this all fostered due to a unity that zebrakind can only dream about? Was it all of that? A mixture? Or was it something else entirely? I did not know.

And that was what worried me the most: the utter lack of information. And I wasn’t sure I would like what little answers I would get when I finally beheld these “ponies” for myself. I steel my nerves as best as I can and continue to look on as the sky ship continues it’s descent, trying not to let the anticipation get to me. I had only limited success.

I hated unknowns. And I was plunged into a land that was, in and of itself, a complete unknown. But I will endure through this. I have to. If not for me, then for her.

The sky ship begins it’s final descent at last. There was no proper dock like there was at that odd shanty city, so they were making do with landing in the enormous open courtyard before the great castle-palace that had to be the seat of whatever power ruled here. Already I could see shapes moving around as the vessel descended: they had to be these “ponies”. I lean further in, intent on drinking in every detail that came into focus.

The very first thing that stuck out to me was their colours. So vibrant and diverse in palette, almost as if reflecting the vibrancy of their land itself, and with not a single stripe or other coat pattern to speak of. Their physical shapes were extremely zebra-like, though rather small: the size of an average mountain zebra, in fact, though there were plenty of outliers. Their manes and tails were sometimes patterned, and sometimes not, but were every bit as colourful as their coats. There were marks on their flanks, but not the abstract and meaningless yet unique marks that me and my people are all born with. No, these were firmly defined, very explicit pictures of objects and concepts, some recognizable and some not, appearing almost as if they were dyed or tattooed into place.

But the most striking detail was in their appendages. And the most prominent example was in the ones who had wings. Wings! Entire feathered wingspans, sprouting out from their backs, just behind their withers! Far too small to carry their weight, and yet they did so not only with ease, but with grace! Some remained grounded however, and as we neared that ground, I could instantly tell why: some of them outright lacked these wings. Indeed, some of them had no extra appendages at all, seemingly no different than I or anyzebra else.

But the other wingless ponies had a feature that I immediately recognized. And immediately feared.

Horns.

Straight, uniform, each with a gentle, spiralling groove, and varying only in length. And each of the horned ponies only possessed one of them, all in the same place and angle on their foreheads. But there was only one reason they would possess horns: the same reason the abadas possessed two.

Sorcery.

In that moment, I lean back away from the railing, almost by reflex. I’ve encountered abadan sorcery before, at the hooves of the whitehorn abadas. I’ve seen their golems and their sorcerous powers, emanating from those horns of theirs. More importantly, I’ve seen what that sorcerous power can do firsthoof: how it assaulted zebra bandits and Imperial Legionnaires alike, with power not at all dissimilar to what the Princes themselves were capable of wielding, and wielded with much lower power yet far greater finesse than said royals.

Of all the Zebrican races, they were the ones I knew the least about, and the ones I had the most reason to fear, along with all other zebras with functioning brains. Even then, I was at least insulated by the knowledge that abadas almost never left the caves they called home, allowing me to sidestep the threat they posed for the most part and simply observe when others either ignored or neglected the threat, or in the case of the Legion, deliberately attacked and took prisoners in spite of it.

And yet here was an entire segment of these ponies’ population, simply waving those dangerous magical horns around without a care in the world, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to them!

I have to avoid the horned ones. I knew the second I saw them that I had to avoid them. Abadan sorcery was bad enough: who knows what twisted foreign sorcery they can wield? Actually, no: I had a good idea of at least some of what they could do, and that little was unquestionably worse than what the abadas were capable of. Sorcery would perfectly explain the strange mountain waterfall, to say nothing of how they managed to build this grand city! Hells, I’m not sure these winged ponies would even be necessary for the city, given the mere existence of these sorcerer ponies! And with my luck, they might even possess sorcery that can reveal what I am! The fears I’d suppressed before begin to well up again, no longer fully pinned under the weight of my curiosity and determination. All around me, the mood noticeably turns with the other zebras, too: they were also frightened of these horned ponies. And with good reason.

With the notable exception of Zelac and the Princes. The former was entirely taken by foal-like excitement and curiosity, a massive smile splitting across his face as his eyes danced with stars: either in defiance of his good sense, or in the complete absence of it. Zabraxas was noticeably uncomfortable and on edge. But Zakurai didn’t look surprised at all. Indeed, he looked as if he had expected this outcome, and somehow even looked glad to see this! I don’t know what drugs he concocted to recover from his dreams, but whatever it was, it’s clearly impacted his survival instincts!

Or maybe he knows something I don’t.

The sky ship finally makes landfall, it’s broad side facing towards the large doors of the extravagant castle-palace. Soldiers or guards of some kind began forming up into lines, flanking the path from the ship to the doors. Their placement was as much to keep watch over the sky ship and corral it’s hoof traffic towards the castle-palace, as it was to keep the slowly gathering crowd of civilian pony equines from interfering. These pony soldiers all had the same uniform colour palettes, wore golden and ornate platemail armour, and carried beautifully crafted spears. But strangely enough, their armour did not offer as much coverage as the scale mail of the Imperial forces, nevermind the honourguards. Most glaring of all was how their entire undercarriage was completely exposed, with nothing but a strap underneath to secure the entire main plate! It was almost as if their armour was more ceremonial than functional. Was this just another show of their opulence? Was it telling of a weak, performative military, engendered by a lack of true opposition? Or were these just a special class of guard, with their true military forces equipped differently? At this stage, I could not guess.

“Welcome to Canterlot, everyzebra,” Zakurai speaks up, amusement and excitement lacing his words. Everyzebra’s attention is drawn to him in that moment, and he continues to address me and the others now that he had our attention. “In a few moments, the leaders of Equestria, along with the leader of their hippogriff allies, will be out to greet me and Prince Zabraxas.” His tone becomes more serious. “None of you are permitted to leave this ship. But all the same, you are expected to leave a good impression on our hosts. Keep your heads about you, and you may well be of pivotal aid in the start of a fruitful new understanding between our people.”

With that, he and Zabraxas took their leave, taking a number of their honourguards with them as they headed below deck. Their eyes gave off that neck-tingling glow all the while, and it persisted even after they left my sight. I heard and felt the sky ship’s cargo platform lower to the ground, and looked down to see the two of them waiting just outside the ship along with six honourguards, their eyes still aglow and the sensation still present.

“This is amazing!” Zelac squeals, leaning over the railing a good distance. “Look at them all! They’re like us, but-but—! Ohh, what are their leaders like?! Oh Lord I should have asked to go with them!”

I let him gush to himself, and continue looking out towards the doors of the castle-palace. The crowd continues to build over the minute or so that passes before I hear the trumpeting of brass horns, followed by a loud proclamation in that same foreign language, possibly announcing the arrival of these foreign leaders. I think I can hear the Princes’ names in there too, transliterated in a bizarre enough way to cast doubt on what I heard. The crowd falls silent at the announcement. Taking a breath, I brace myself for what’s about to come, though the slight tremble from all this tension refuses to leave.

The great doors are wreathed in a multicoloured glow, and swing open shortly after. A red carpet is rolled out from the door that travels all the way to the sky ship’s base, and I can see several figures exiting the doors, walking along said carpet. They must be the leaders. As they walk closer to meet the also-walking Princes in the middle, I’m able to make out the details of their appearance with reasonable clarity given the distance, the individuals themselves full of their own surprises.

There were twelve figures in total, arranged into two rows of six. Ten were ponies, one was a bizarre avian quadruped—one of those ‘hippogriffs’, no doubt—and the other was so comparatively small I almost didn’t realize it was a twelfth figure. Nevertheless, it was still too far away to identify, save for it’s purple colour. Ignoring said twelfth individual, all of the figures present were mares, except for the one horned stallion in the front row. Indeed, the front row looked to be comprised of nothing but leader figures, including that presumptive ‘hippogriff’. If I didn’t infer such from their regalia, I certainly did from the races of the pony mares in the front: each of them possessed both wings and a horn, and were for the most part noticeably larger than their cohorts, nevermind the other ponies in the crowd. Were they the pony equivalent of the Princes, perhaps?

The most striking one was the massive white mare, taller than even myself or Zabraxas without factoring in her enormous, spear-like horn. Her multicoloured rainbow of a mane blew constantly in an unseen, ethereal breeze, and her large wings were extended out like those of a swan, lending her an almost otherworldly kind of grace and poise. She wore a golden peytral and crown with prominent pink gems in the middle, and had matching golden horseshoes, all while an image of the sun adorned her flanks. Despite her intimidating stature, she projected a kindly, warm, and almost motherly aura about her, though the look in her rose pink eyes betrayed how guarded she truly was about this meeting.

Next to her was a smaller, dark blue mare, about the size of a larger plains zebra. But her body was far slimmer, and feminine to an almost unreasonable degree. Her purple-bordered and ethereal blue mane was like a star-filled sky as it flowed freely in an invisible breeze, just like the white mare’s mane. Her flank bore a mark of the crescent moon atop a black background that matched the colour and theme of her peytral and crown, broken up only by her silver horseshoes. She looked forward at the approaching Princes with an impassive, regal look. But in those blue eyes was something beyond naked royal disdain: I could see a calculating intellect and a discerning wisdom smouldering behind her gaze as she looked over the Princes and the airship, and I couldn’t help the light chill that ran up my spine when her eyes briefly scanned over myself and the other prisoners. This one immediately struck me as the most dangerous.

The contrast between her and the bright pink mare next to her couldn’t have been more stark. In terms of build, they were incredibly similar, but the pink one had this amorous aura to her, bordering on the faintly erotic. Though her mane was normal compared to the ethereal ones of the other two mares, it was still very long, very well maintained, curled near the ends, and came in large, longitudinal stripes of three bright colours: violet, pink, and gold. Some kind of crystalline heart marked her flanks, oddly enough. Though her regalia—peytral, crown, and horseshoes alike—were all gold, the peytral especially was much thinner than the other ones, putting more of her coat on display. In terms of sheer femininity and attractiveness, she easily outclassed the blue mare, and quite possibly all other pony mares. Her eyes were on the pinker end of purple, and held a certain nervousness I see most often in the eyes of the younger and more naïve. She walked close to, and took noticeable solace in, the blue-maned white stallion by her side, clearly her mate. Though he only had a horn, it was quite long, and he was as large as an imperial zebra. He had a confidence and protectiveness suggestive of military training, borne out by his more decorated suit of gold and purple armour and his rather muscular build.

And then there was the final royal mare, with a bright purple coat and a darker purple mane, streaked with pink highlights. Her build was noticeably normal, her mark was some kind of six-pointed star, and of the royals, she was by far the most modest, wearing only a crown. As for the look in her purple eyes? Well, she looked about as excited as Zelac did to be here: she was trembling with barely contained excitement and her eyes danced with stars, much like his. She looked to be the most bothersome of the bunch.

Finally, there was the back row of pony mares plus the one unidentified purple figure. However, despite how striking some of them looked, I didn’t have the time to fully appraise them, nor the presumed ‘hippogriff’ in the front row, as the entire group came to a stop before the two Princes at last. I focused my attention on observing their interactions. Silence hung as they looked on at each other, and there was nothing to do but wait until either one of them made a move.

But move, they did.

Zakurai made that first move, dipping into a polite bow and presumably introducing himself in their language. I never thought I’d see a Prince bow, but it was a smart move given the circumstances. Zabraxas, on the other hoof, did no such thing, silently staring at the foreign royalty, much to the chagrin of his much more diplomatic cohort. Fortunately for him, the white mare picked up right away on the tension that Zabraxas’s faux pas created, bowing and introducing herself to Zakurai in turn to defuse things. The two rose, shook hooves, and the rest of the gathered foreign royals took turns introducing themselves. Occasionally, Zakurai would stop to translate things into Zebrikaans for Zabraxas’s sake, but I couldn’t make out the words from this distance.

It’s strange. I thought Zakurai’s easy and personable manner was just a façade, covering over the foul manner of yet another entitled bastard of a Prince. But the more I observe him and his open laughing and joking with these royals, particularly with that quadrupedal avian, the more I start to wonder if this manner of his may actually be genuine.

Either way, he seems to have made a good first impression, though that blue mare looked somewhat unconvinced. She also glared at Zabraxas as if he were a misbehaving foal, which I’ll admit was rather amusing. The purple mare shook Zakurai’s hoof very vigorously, and gushed with excitement as she spoke rapid-fire. The other five normal mares behind her all made their acquaintance with him as well, though I’m still confused as to why they are even here with the leaders. Are they royalty, perhaps? Zakurai’s expression lights up with brief surprise and Zabraxas becomes visibly uncomfortable as the unidentified figure also makes it’s introduction, and I finally identify it as it shakes hooves with the more diplomatic Prince.

It’s a small, purple dragon.

The unexpected wave of longing and regret hits me full force the moment I identify it. The two share a little laugh. A brief flash of myself and Cinder laughing with each other appears in my mind’s eye, overlaid onto the scene. The purple mare gives the dragon a small hug that it returns, the two sharing a familial smile. Another flash of me and Cinder doing the same thing appears. I force myself to refocus, righting my wilted ears with a small head shake and a few blinks before anyzebra could notice and comment. And just in time, too: the group was now moving towards the castle-palace. No doubt to continue their business inside.

So, this land has dragons of it’s own? I wonder how similar they are to ours, or indeed, how different they are. Do they also have a Dragonlord? And if they do, is it a different Dragonlord than the one back home? I certainly hope so. Pyroclast was as ineffectual and effete as rulers came, especially for dragons of all species. Me, Cinder, and the rest of her family often joked at his expense, and there were plenty of dragons outside of the Glasslands that disliked him to some degree as well. It was a very common way for us to form rapports with the odd dragon in our travels.

I miss Cinder.

The absolute most emotion I allow myself to express is a slow, saddened snort, easily dismissed as something else. The rest is all bottled up for later. I refuse to show any of it here, of all places. Not to these zebras. Absolutely not.

I will survive this. I will get her out.

The assembled royalty passes beyond the threshold of the doors. Already I can hear Zelac exclaiming and waving down at the crowds, a fair few of the ponies doing the same back to him. I suppose that’s better for my patience than his constant questioning. Though I do end up surprised and stepping back when some particularly brave winged ponies dart forward from the crowd and get into his face, though they can only indulge in a short bout of mutual excitement before their flying soldiers pull them back into the crowd.

I should be observing these ponies as well. Anything I can learn will be a benefit at this point. If nothing else, I needed to distract myself from thinking about Cinder.

To say Twilight was excited to finally meet Prince Zakurai would be an enormous understatement. After all of her written correspondence, filled to the brim with knowledge of his faraway homeland, nothing was going to stop her from getting even more details! She could write three books just with what was in her letters: who knows how many she could make after a chat in pony! In zebra? Oh, goodness. That’s going to be a bit confusing.

“I suppose you must hear this quite often, your highnesses,” Zakurai says as the group continues walking, his head craning around to scan the castle interior. “But this palace of yours is beautiful. I’ve never seen anything quite like it before.”

“I’m sure that yours is nothing to sneeze at, either,” Celestia replies with a gentle smile.

“It certainly isn’t,” he responds with his own smile. “But it’s very different to yours. I suppose that’s what has struck me the most.”

“Sure struck me when I first came here, too,” Novo interjected with a knowing smile. “I know the feeling.”

“It’s a shame we’re on such a tight schedule. Otherwise, I’d have quite liked to see your palace as well, your majesty.”

“Just Novo, dearie,” she replied. “Never did like all that ‘majesty’ stuff..”

“Hah! Then I’m in good company, Novo.”

They bumped hooves with a laugh. Those two had really hit it off from the very beginning, acting as if they had been old friends despite only meeting now. Still, Twilight would be remiss if she didn’t spare a glance at the parasprite in the room: his fellow Prince, Zabraxas. She’ll admit, her first opinion on him wasn’t very positive, given that letter Prince Zakurai had sent before. She had hoped that meeting him in pony—goodness, she’ll need a different way to express that—would have shown him to be better than her first impression. Unfortunately, he seemed to be every bit as obstinate in the flesh as he was in the letter. He’s never once smiled, or done much of anything beyond just stare at everypony with mild disdain. In fact, just being here seemed to irritate him.

He finally spoke in that flat monotone of his, getting Prince Zakurai’s attention. Unfortunately, whatever he said didn’t go over well with his fellow Prince, if his turn of mood was any indication.

“Something the matter?” Luna spoke up, her tone unamused. She had been the most skeptical of the two from the beginning, but Twilight wasn’t quite sure why.

“Forgive me, your majesty,” Zakurai replies, as diplomatic as ever. “He’s quite dead set on dealing with this... Anonymous of yours as quickly as possible.”

The mood noticeably turns the moment his name was uttered. For her part, Luna’s mood remains unchanged.

“Everypony and everygriff present wants nothing more than to see him dealt with. But he will not be dealt with at such a reckless pace. He will be dealt with at the proper time, when we are properly prepared, and not a moment sooner.”

She spoke directly at Prince Zabraxas, and the disdainful tone she took did not go over well with him, especially as Prince Zakurai translated her words. He did not respond further, choosing instead to glare at her. She was utterly unmoved by his gaze, returning fire with a flat, unamused expression: the kind a parent would adopt for a colt throwing a tantrum. For nearly an entire minute, they stared at one another like this. Until the zebra broke first, snorting with annoyance and walking away from the situation as he says something in his language. Prince Zakurai’s didn’t translate it. Given his sour expression, that was probably for the best.

Twilight took that opportunity to try and defuse the situation.

“So! A-are you two staying long?”

“As much as I would love to stay longer for all the sights and hospitality,” Zakurai sighs, happy to take the olive branch, “I think all we can afford is a day, given our... circumstances.”

With her wings extended, Twilight wrapped her foreleg around his withers. “Then we’ll have to make your first day in Equestria the most memorable one!”

“It already is,” he responds with a chuckle. “But I won’t protest if you wish to outdo yourself.”

Twilight and her friends went out of their way to give the Princes a full tour of not just the castle, but a good portion of Canterlot as well. They took in the sights, spoke to several ponies, sampled different food, and so much more: whatever would give them the best first experience with Equestria possible. In a way, it reminded her of what they had done for the Equestria Games inspector, before she had become an alicorn, and Twilight had the feeling that her friends felt the same way, too. The hardest part of the entire experience was keeping her questions to herself for now: she reasoned that she could ask him as many things as she wanted once they were on the way to his homeland.

The only thing they couldn’t visit yet was the royal gardens: the place where the statue of Anonymous was being kept.

By the day’s end, the two visiting royals were very eager to sleep for the night: they had complained about sleeping poorly the night before, and wanted very much to catch up on it. To that end, Celestia gave them the dignitary’s suite, just opposite of the room Twilight shared with her friends.

“Your majesties, this has been one of the most... fascinating and illuminating experiences I believe I’ve ever had,” Zakurai says as the group travels to their suite, their last destination for the day. “I will absolutely have to think of a way to repay this... overwhelming hospitality of yours. But for now, I am in dire need of some rest, as is my fellow.”

“Then I hope the suite is to your liking,” Celestia replies.

“Princess, after all I’ve just witnessed, I’m having trouble imagining how it wouldn’t be.”

He was not disappointed when they finally arrived at said suite. And for the first time, Prince Zabraxas’s expression shifted to that of relief. And then concern. He looked at his fellow Prince, and he looked back. Given the changing expressions on their faces, there must be some kind of conversation happening right now, but Twilight couldn’t see or feel any sign of it. Was this that special telepathy that Zakurai had written to her about? Either way, said Prince hid his newfound concerns under a smile as he turned back towards everypony.

“I hate to end this day on a more business-focused note, your majesties,” he begins. “But if possible, I would like to begin solving this Anonymous problem of yours, first thing tomorrow.”

“Very well,” Luna replies with a small nod. “We shall fetch you once we are prepared. Pleasant dreams, good Zakurai.”

He looked away for a moment at the mention of good dreams. That tell did not escape Luna’s notice.

“To you as well, fair Luna,” he ends with a slight bow. “We shall see you all in the morning then, shall we?”

Once everypony had said their farewells for the day, the Princes retreated to bed proper, their room watched over by their honourguards in addition to the usual royal guard. Twilight and her friends went to their room next, more than ready to get some rest of their own after today’s tiring yet very productive events.

Before she even knew it, Twilight had fallen asleep.

I ‘wake’ in an unfamiliar yet incredibly comfortable bed, in a luxurious room I do not recognize. The yellow sun hung overhead, as if imitating a chandelier with it’s tendrils. Jumping off of the bed, I make my way to the window to get my bearings, and it comes as quite the surprise to see that I’m in the city of Canterlot. Of all the places this strange dream world could have conjured up, this was what it came up with? Well, a city was not short on places to hide, so I suppose I shouldn’t complain, especially after the last dream.

The last dream...

Taking a breath, I steel myself not just for evading the Princes again, but for a possible encounter with that alien. My attention is drawn, however, by the shadowy equine figures I can see walking the streets, going about their business. My gaze turns upwards to gauge the moon’s progress across the sky, but I’m more than a bit shocked to see not one, but two moons up there: one was the usual moon, on it’s way towards the horizon to herald the arrival of said Princes, and perhaps even the alien. The new one, on the other hoof, was much larger and markedly different: instead of the perfectly smooth surface of the usual dream moon, this one was pockmarked with craters, and indeed, looked almost identical to the moon from the waking world. It shone brightly in the sky, bathing everything in it’s pale light, and it was surrounded by a familiar purple-bordered and ethereal blue mist, twinkling with stars.

It was identical to the mane of that blue mare.

I instinctively take a step away from the window upon realizing this, and silently tell the sun to retreat further back into the room and reduce it’s light, which it does right away. I hide behind the wall, peeking out from behind it to continue my observation of the foreign moon. While I could feel that same piercing sensation from it’s light that I felt in that blue mare’s eyes, it’s attention was not on me. There were small, star-filled and twinkling tendrils reaching down from the moon’s mist, gently undulating in the air as they touched various parts of the city, lifting up and touching another part whenever they were done with what they were doing. If this moon does indeed belong to that mare, I wonder where she could be? I don’t see a major connecting line, like mine or the Princes. Nor multiple strings like the alien, for that matter.

Regardless, it’s stark differences to the suns doesn’t alter the sheer power I can feel radiating from the lunar body. But it’s nothing like the destructive power of the suns I know all too well. This foreign, ethereal power held no hostility, created no pressure, and caused no destruction—at least, not by virtue of merely existing. I can’t fully describe how it’s power feels, but it’s far from unpleasant. Indeed, there was an... allure to it I hadn’t expected to feel, and it was drawing out an old and deeply held... desire. An attraction. A craving. A... hunger.

A hunger?

I pull myself away from the sight, pressing myself against the wall next to the window. The yellow sun was visibly agitated, but it seemed to calm when I willed it to, though it took several seconds for it to settle. The strange craving I feel ceases when I stop looking. I’ve definitely felt this hunger before. But where? When? I know it’s not a natural sensation, but something deep within me begs to differ.

I feel the familiar pressure of the Princes, and see the telltale glow of the light from their suns filtering through the window, casting a separate set of shadows. I peer back out the window to see where they are, but I feel that strange hunger return when I do, despite not looking at the moon yet. I pull away, and experimentally reach a hoof out to the window, testing a suspicion. Sure enough, the moment that the moonlight shines onto my hoof, I feel the hunger return. I will need to keep that in mind.

Just then, I hear a loud, booming voice from outside, belonging to a mare. Flinching, I pin myself against the wall, keeping out of the window’s view. The moonlight becomes brighter and more intense, but so does the light of the Princes’ suns in response. Taking a breath, I look out of the window, the intense moonlight hitting my face triggering an even stronger sensation of hunger. It’s far from the worst feeling I’ve endured, and it was a small price to pay to see the one linked to the moon descending from it’s surface. It was that blue mare! However, she was not connected to the moon like me and the Princes were to our suns. Indeed, she seems to have taken the ethereal mist surrounding the moon back into her mane again, as well as terminating all of the starry connections she had made to the city beforehoof. But the moon’s light still held that same, hunger-inducing power.

She used her wings to glide towards the suns, the picture of regal grace and poise. Her voice still boomed and reverberated at it’s incredible volume, her tone carrying an authority that no Prince could pretend to match. And she did not sound happy to have intruders here in this dream realm. As she neared the suns, her expression shifted to that of shock: she no doubt saw the Princes themselves. But she quickly shifted back to anger as she flew beyond the window’s viewing angle. Nothing for it but to move elsewhere to get a better vantage point: I had to learn what little I could from this encounter.

The intense sensation of hunger abates as I leave the moonlight, though it’s incredibly abrupt ending was a rather jarring experience. More concerning to me was how the yellow sun was having a very difficult time containing itself: it’s tendrils dug into the walls like a finger or a claw might, dragging deep, burning gouges into the wall as it pulsed and flared. I’ve never seen it do anything like this before. My silent demands for it to calm itself go unheeded for several seconds, but eventually, it does indeed begin to settle.

This is concerning. If my own exposure to the strange moonlight can cause this kind of effect on it, I’m sure I don’t want to know what happens if the sun itself becomes exposed to the light. Making a note to myself to avoid exposure to the light as much as I could, I leave the room with the sun floating close to my back. It takes me over half a minute to navigate this foreign Equestrian house layout, but I do find the path to the roof in the end. And after sternly ordering the sun to stay put in the shadows, I push the door open and step out into the open, gritting my teeth at the fresh wave of hunger as I look out towards the two Princes’ suns.

I couldn’t tell much from this distance, but the loud, demanding voice of that mare made it clear that there was an argument going on. Even if I could tell what was going on, my attention would have been drawn to the Princes’ suns regardless: each one had a vortex of light surrounding them, siphoning directly into their cores. It was the moonlight, no doubt about it. Was this connected to the hunger I—?

A sharp gasp leaves me at the full-body shiver that radiates out from my back. When I look back, I see the yellow sun rising into the open from the door, actively disobeying my order.

The sun’s core dilated and I could physically feel it’s elation as it emerged into the light. The moonlight began to swirl around it in an identical vortex, funnelling into the core: the reverse of how it ‘wept’ power before unleashing it. An involuntary, shuddering groan escapes my throat as I can feel that odd hunger being satisfied, and I nearly drop to my knees right then. I felt fulfillment on a deep spiritual and metaphysical level, beyond anything I’ve felt before. It is pleasurable in a way I cannot even describe: easily comparable to sexual pleasure, but scratching a wholly different itch I had not even been cognizant of beforehoof. It was incredible. Sublime. Rapturous. It was, it was...

I remember this feeling now.

The pleasure turns to ice in my veins as I realize what’s going on. Where there was once indescribable satisfaction, there is now only an old and deeply held terror. That feeling was the main impetus for me to tear myself and the sun out of the intoxicating moonlight, returning down the way I came. I could hear the booming voice of the blue mare again, full of renewed anger. And I felt the moonlight’s piercing quality sharpen to a needlepoint as it became intensely bright and unmistakably focused. Focused onto this place.

She knows.

I’m in a dead sprint before my mind fully catches up to my survival instincts. Even then, things pass by in a panicked blur. I move to different buildings, cross streets, run under bridges, anything I need to do to escape, sticking to the shadows and avoiding any and all light as I go. The light may as well have been the magma of a dragon’s volcano in my mind’s eye: right now, it was every bit as lethal to me.

The building I had been in before is ripped from the ground, wrapped in a cerulean glow. The matching glow emanates from the horn of the Equestrian royal, flying nearby and scrutinizing every square millimetre of the structure for any sign of my presence. By then, I had taken cover in an alleyway, nearly an entire block away. The sight is all I need to keep moving, putting as much distance between me and that mare as I possibly could.

Tracking how long I’ve been making this escape is the very last thing on my mind right now: all that mattered was my progress. Every errant yell I hear from her is another spur to keep moving. I hadn’t realized it before, but the focused sensation of the light was visible now as a concentrated ray of moonlight, now searching the area like some kind of spotlight. The mare followed closely behind this light, with no intention of giving up her search. She was moving far too fast for the Princes to keep up, and I can’t help but hate how well her wings served her here.

I held a lesser hate towards the sun riding on my back. It just had to disobey me in that crucial moment, didn’t it?!

It was as I ducked into another building to find another lightless path to continue my escape, that I stumbled and nearly fell due to another wave of pressure hitting me with full force. I immediately recognized it as the pressure caused by the alien sun. And no sooner did I make this connection, than I heard the loud blaring of a horn in the distance: a deep, terrifying sound I am certain has never been made by any instrument before. Certainly in character for that alien.

I never thought I’d feel relieved to see him return again.

Instantly, I feel the focused sensation of the moonlight abate, as if it were also knocked off-balance by the alien presence. The mare’s voice yells out again, but this time I detect fear in it’s tone, compromising the royal authority it carries. The harsh and bright green light I expected to see is more subdued and shadowed this time, filtering through the windows of the building and casting everything in an eerie gloom, as if it were the calm before the storm.

It’s only when I peek out of the window to gauge any new sights that I realize just how literal that observation was.

An enormous, fulminating black storm cloud approaches in the distant sky, coursing with lightning and glowing a deep, ominous green from within. Occasionally, a ray of the true, unnatural green light breaks free from the cloud cover. The blue mare flies forth in the sky, illuminated by the ray of moonlight, and I can see the Princes’ suns racing towards her in the distance, trying to catch up. Finally, after coming close enough, the largest sky ship I’ve ever seen in my life emerges from the massive cloud. It’s design, and the strange twin lightning bolt iconography decorating it, are identical to the sky ships that fled over Farasi. The alien stood proudly at the bow of the ship, but at this distance, I could only tell due to the multiple streams of power linked to him, his sun still buried deep in the cloud cover somewhere.

He speaks with a similar volume to the blue mare, his tone jovial and malicious and his voice slightly distorted in a bizarre, almost electric fashion. The mare yells back at him, and I can think of no other instances where the threat carried in somezebra’s tone alone was so direct, so promising, and so frightening by it’s own virtue. But he simply laughs back, either refusing or unable to take her seriously. And as he laughs, his own tone shifts to a threatening one as well. It’s terrifying for a very different reason: not for it’s promise to do terrible things, but for it’s promise to delight in causing whatever he is promising, with no possibility of mercy or reprieve. Between the two, I don’t know which type of threat scares me more.

His sun finally emerges from the cloud, it’s light easily drowning out the moonlight. The mare grunts in discomfort and the alien exclaims in surprise, but his tone quickly becomes malicious again as he makes his next move. His sun splits apart into pieces, rapidly orbiting an intense, arcing core of his fire-lightning power, and he does far more to the moonlight than what the yellow one had so stupidly, inadvertently done. The sun was somehow pulling every ray of moonlight towards itself in a concentrated beam, devouring every single bit of it and growing even stronger and more powerful for it. The mare yelled out in pain, a note of terror colouring her voice as the alien gave a triumphant, maniacal laugh.

crack

The ears of the guards flicked at the sudden cracking sound, and the ones that turned to face the statue of Anonymous had their eyes bulge in alarm at what they saw. A crack had begun to form on the knee of the statue, and it was slowly spreading up along his leg. Two of the guards took off to warn the princesses and call for backup immediately, while the rest turned and pointed their weapons at the imposing statue, ready for anything to come.

As if any of them were a match for the evil that dwelt within.

But the siphoning of the moonlight did not last for long: the suns of the Princes interceded, physically blocking the stream of power with their bodies as the two Princes flew up to flank the lunar mare. Zabraxas rode atop a greatsword of power, while Zakurai had sprouted great wings of flame, completely unmoving and instead relying on jets of fire from under their wingspan to propel him. Zakurai yells something at the mare, presumably telling her to escape while they dealt with the alien. Recomposing herself, the mare flies back up to her moon while the two Princes flew up to deal with the alien.

He sounded legitimately frustrated at the interruption, even somewhat angry. This would not end well for them, I could already tell.

The Princes lash out with their respective powers: enormous blades and chains of energy, and great streams and explosive balls of fire. But they were like frail embers compared to the chaotic, splintering bolts of fire-lightning that rained down upon them from the fragments of the alien sun, shredding the cityscape behind them to pieces. It’s all the motivation I need to reach for the yellow sun and begin escaping this nightmare in earnest, taking full advantage of the distraction. The two Princes were battered back by the hailstorm of destruction, and that was without the alien even lifting a digit to attack.

But that changed as the yellow flame enveloped my body. He was pulled up into the air more than he flew, as if he were a marionette yanked by the strings, yet he was still in full control of his flight. His arm reached up, his sun crushed back together into a single unstable mass again, and it began to funnel a blinding quantity of power into his outstretched hand. The energy elongated and took shape, forming into an enormous, building-sized spear of unstable power. Unable to thrust such a thing at his present size, he instead uses the sun’s connections to pull it back and stab it into the ground, right between the two Princes. It bites into the city with an enormous blast, evenly split between kinetic energy and it’s sheer power as it destroyed several buildings in the blink of an eye. But rather than retrieving it, or splintering it further to continue the assault, the towering shard of volatile, arcing energy remained planted in the ground, and it’s numerous solar connections continued to funnel incredible amounts of power into it. In the span of only seconds, it’s width and brightness had more than doubled, and I could hear a very high-pitched electric whine coming from it as it’s arcs became longer and more destructive, and the dark clouds from before began to be sucked into orbit around it. Indeed, a strong wind had developed outside, pulling incredible quantities of air towards the spear in an intense, tornadic vortex, strong enough to pull that enormous sky ship into it’s orbit and break it apart into pieces under the sheer force, adding to the developing ring of electrified and burning debris.

Simultaneously, a second energy weapon—an enormous hammer—was forming in his hand next. I realized right then what he was about to do.

With my realization accompanied by enormous fissures of green power snaking through the city streets before me, I immediately turn and jump at the yellow sun, accepting the assistance of it’s tendrils as I scramble to enter it’s black core, desperate to escape before the unimaginable destructive blast kills me. I pass through without a moment to spare, the sounds ceasing abruptly as my vision fills with nothing but yellow. A second later, a deafening, otherworldly BANG painfully rips through the air all around me, turning my vision green. Cracks and tears split across the very fabric of this reality itself, carrying the loud roaring noises of complete and utter destruction as the fissures bleed with that green power: tiny windows back into the annihilated city. The cracks quickly sew themselves back together and once again bring utter silence as the colour returns to yellow, then to white.

Twilight woke to the sound of two stallions screaming. The two Princes screaming.

Bolting upright in her bed along with her friends, she moves quickly by way of a teleportation spell. When she appears inside the room, she sees the two zebra royals collapsed onto the floor, feverishly tended to by their guards. They whirl around at the flash of the teleportation, brandishing their weapons, but they’re batted aside with Twilight’s telekinesis as she rushes over to Prince Zakurai’s side.

“Zakurai!” she exclaimed. “What happened?! What’s wrong?”

His only response was a pained groan. The zebra’s eyes were bloodshot and unfocused, and he was suffering from a serious nosebleed.

The flash of another teleportation spell was heard behind her, and she turned to see a very rough looking Princess Luna appearing in the room next. She began calling out in their language, her tone caught between angry and concerned. Her eyes widened in surprise upon seeing Twilight.

“Princess!” Twilight exclaimed. “What’s going—?”

“Later,” she barks. “Give the Prince a portion of magic, now!”

Dumbfounded, she looked on at her running to Prince Zabraxas’s side, barking orders in Zebrikaans that the shocked honourguards obeyed after a momentary delay. She grimaced as she fed a small thread of magic into his prone body, the display serving as the push she needed to do the same to Prince Zakurai. Gritting through the crawling, dull ache that his drain on her magic caused, she was nevertheless pleased to see the injured Prince stir beneath her, his groan becoming relieved instead of merely painful. His eyes became focused and lively once more, though he winced and hissed with pain as he clutched his head before his eyes drew up towards Twilight’s.

“Princess?” he wheezed, breaking into a small, wet fit of coughing, expelling small droplets of blood with it.

Exclaiming his name again, she pulled him up and gave him a hug, her magic cutting off. “Are you okay? Are you okay?”

“Not in the slightest,” he coughed. “Th-though I’ll admit, you’re helping quite a bit.”

His ears flicked towards the doors as they opened, the other Elements as well as more guards and some medics rushing in to lend assistance. His head turned towards Zabraxas and Luna when he heard the former coughing and wheezing as well, with Luna’s firm, guiding voice saying something to him, almost as if reciting a chant or a mantra.

Twilight backed away as the medics came in, and the honourguards offered the Prince potions he was only too happy to imbibe.

“So,” came Applejack’s voice as she trotted up next to Twilight. “Y’all wanna tell us what the hay just happened?”

Still shaky, the Ponish-speaking Prince rose to his hooves with the aid of his guard, recovering much quicker than she expected. Even his nosebleed had stopped. Just what was in those potions?

“I’m afraid,” he exhaled, “You won’t like the answer.”

“Try me,” she pressed.

“Well,” he sighed, “There’s no delicate way to put this, so I’ll just be blunt.” He coughed again. “We just fought a battle with your Anonymous in our dreams. And lost.”

“You what?!” Twilight exclaimed.

“Though not without preventing his premature release,” Luna interjected, her hoof pushed away by Zabraxas in favour of his honourguard helping him up. “In that, you were successful. Had you not interceded, we would have been faced with the worst case scenario.”

Twilight’s stomach dropped and her blood ran cold. Anonymous was about to escape?

“Are you well enough to hold a conversation, good Prince?” Luna continued.

“I’ll need a few minutes,” Zakurai replied.

“Then you will have them. I believe there is much we need to discuss.”

“You’re right,” he sighed. “Though I believe I should start with an apology.”

“Accepted. Now stop fussing and let the medics treat you two.”

Zakurai called out to Zabraxas, who immediately stopped shooing away the medics. Though not without a frustrated word of his own. Even as injured as he was, he still held onto his pride and ego.

Twilight’s head spun with worries and questions all the while. They fought him in their dreams? He was about to escape? What in the hay was going on here?

No Sleep till Brooklyn

I wake to the worst, throbbing headache I’ve ever had in my life. I can’t so much as focus on anything but my own pain, and even the dim light of the room is far too much for my eyes.

“M-Mr. Zobachi? Sir? C-can you hear me?”

I reflexively cringe at the voice, it’s volume far louder than it actually was. So overwhelming was the sound, in fact, that I didn’t realize it was Zelac speaking at first. But slowly, little by little, my sensitivity to noise and light begins to subside in step with the subsiding of my pounding headache. Far too slow for my liking.

“Sir, please answer me...”

Ugh. It’s still so damned loud. My attempt at speech comes out as a slurred mumble, accompanied by a wince as fresh, sharp pain stabs through my forehead. My forelegs try to move reflexively to assuage it, but their movements are slow and heavy, ending with my hooves brushing clumsily against my neck.

I’m not in full control of my own body. Not yet. It’s returning, but it’s a slow process, governed once again by the intensity of this damned headache. What did that alien do to me?

Foreign hooves press against my face. One of my eyes is opened, the sudden influx of light drawing forth another wince. The image is hard to see, unfocused as it is, but the blurry sight strongly resembles my roommate.

“Pleasebeokaypleasebeokaypleasebeokay...” he murmurs.

My response comes out as a groan. But at least my own hoof makes it up to my head this time, even as slow and unresponsive as it is. Right up until he swats it away. He moves on to checking my other eye, and the now-adjusted other eye stays open, it’s ability to focus slowly returning.

“Mr. Zobachi? Please, c-can you hear— Oh!” His ears flatten and he recoils slightly, “Ohmygosh...”

He rushes away to retrieve something. I can’t tell what. One of the last senses I expected to be prominent comes into play: my sense of taste. More specifically, I can taste blood. With my hooves now under a small semblance of control, I succeed in touching my mouth, followed by my snout. To my surprise, my hoof comes back bloodied.

“What in the...?” My words are slow, strained, and somewhat slurred. I begin coughing moments later, just in time for Zelac to return with cloths and a water basin on his back. He hurries to set them down and put them to work, dabbing wet, warm cloths onto my nose.

“Oh Lord, what happened to you?” he murmurs.

“Don’t know,” I manage to lie.

He gasps. “S-sir! You’re, uh, w-well, maybe not okay, b-but—”

“What happened?”

The question was sincere, even if he couldn’t understand it’s deeper meaning. That nightmare was unlike any other, especially at the end. Though it’s hard to process it fully due to my ever-present headache, I distinctly remember how the alien’s power tore through that yellow and white void. I certainly remember the pain of it, if nothing else.

It couldn’t have... harmed me in the waking world, could it? That sounds absolutely impossible. And yet, nothing else would explain the headache or the blood.

And “impossible” has become an increasingly flexible term since coming to this accursed land.

“You, er, w-well,” He wraps one of the cloths around my snout, blocking my nose. “I-I don’t really know, sir. Y-you woke me up, thrashing and panting and whimpering. Then you froze up, tried to scream, even though you didn’t have the breath for it. A-and, well, n-now we’re here.”

“I see,” I grunt, becoming ever better at speaking again. I suppose it’s a small mercy that I didn’t succeed in screaming in reality. Otherwise, the guards would have been here first.

The guards. The Princes.

They would have suffered just like this.

No headache can halt the fresh pulse of fear I feel. If I was reduced to this state, they would have been, too. If they find me like this, they can tie me to the dream. They’ll find out what I am.

Try as I might, I can’t pull myself upright yet: my body refuses to comply. All I get for my efforts is a fresh spike of pain through my head and a matching hiss from between my teeth.

“Nuh-uh, no!” Zelac looks down at me sternly. “You aren’t going anywhere, mister! Not until you’ve gotten some rest!”

That tone of his is reserved for coltfriends. Funny, I don’t recall ever making him mine, let alone intending anything of the sort. But as I am, I am sadly in no state to rebuke him, despite how easy it would otherwise be. So here I sit, looked after by this alchemist. His movements are careful and free of any trembling as he looks me over for injuries and asks me questions about symptoms. That suggests medical experience, beyond that of alchemy. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised: only the Empire had the luxury of specialized alchemists and doctors.

The minutes of this that pass by is more than enough time for my body to return to most of it’s full functionality and control. He cleans my bloody nose, keeping it tipped forward. He presses a cold cloth to my head for the headache, though it’s of limited effectiveness; it remains persistent, and despite it’s reduced intensity, it still make clear thinking somewhat challenging.

“So.” Zelac gets into my face, tone and expression indignant as he jabs my barrel. “Are you going to tell me about what just happened?”

Not on his life. But all this time gave me plenty of opportunity to construct a few lies to feed him. It was just a matter of creating my window to offer them.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re going to try to fix whatever is wrong. Like every other alchemist and doctor I’ve gone to for this.”

“E-every other?” Good, there’s the response. Now to insert the story.

“This lasts for weeks,” I lie. “Horrible, exhausting nightmares. Then nighttime seizures. I don’t know why it happens. I don’t even know the pattern: I’ll have years where I’m fine, but other times this will happen on a monthly basis.”

“I thought it had to do with those nightmares.” Excellent, he’s connecting the false dots. “And just how many zebras have you gone to about this?”

“I lost track after the first dozen. Though I’ll never forget the two Mystics I met.”

“M-Mystics...?!” he gasps.

“Two different ones. One when I was a colt. The other a few years ago. I don’t know what odd rituals they did to try and help me. But you can see all the good it did.”

Hah. As if I’d let a Mystic anywhere near me. Their annoying way of rhyming everything they say would have been reason enough. But those zebras are strange, even to a stallion like me, and they’re dangerous to match. By all accounts, even the Princes were wary of them. That was far in excess of enough reason for me to keep several kilometres of distance from them. If they can give even them pause, then who knows what rituals or concoctions they’re capable of?

“Duh-d-do you really not even know what your problem is?”

“I do not.”

“W-well, er, I mean, h-have you tried asking one of the guards—”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Zelac.” His ears folded at my harsh words. “There is nothing those muscle-heads can do for me, short of shipping me away to one of the universities.”

“A-and, er, what’s so, well, wrong about that?”

“Imperial law is what’s wrong with that.” This part was actually true. “If you’re a criminal with a noteworthy illness, which I am, you can be sent to a university cell rather than prison. From there, you become the subject of study.” And now to spin the truth a bit. “Do you understand what that means for me, Zelac? A life sentence of poking, prodding, and experiments, with no hope of escape or recourse. Even if they find a cure, they’ll never give it to me; they’ll keep me as their little lab rat until the day I die. And I’d rather die first.”

The best lies are mixed with some truth, and this was no exception. Zelac’s horrified reaction was proof of that.

“N-no way,” he mutters. “No way. That’s not true, they wouldn’t do something so cruel!”

Narrowing my eyes, I lean forward and lower my tone to the point of near-threatening. “Did you really think the Empire had no analogue to the Zhaaneph’s doctors?”

Ah, there’s the appropriate horror and disgust I was expecting to see. Truthfully, the doctors—butchers, really—were far worse than the state scientists of the Empire; it wasn’t even a contest. That tends to happen when the latter has actual oversight and ethical codes to follow—even if they’re ultimately dictated and overruled by the Elders and Princes—as opposed to a holy blessing from the Zhaaneph-Sa to pursue their goals by any—any—means necessary. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“So the only thing I can do,” I finish, “Is address symptoms as they occur. Of course, it’s just my luck that this all strikes again now of all times.”

He swallows dry. I can tell by the look in his eyes that I’ve mostly convinced him. But there’s something else in his gaze, as well. Something small, something I can’t quite identify. A moment passes, and I can tell right away that he found some hole in my story by the small eye-widening of realization, followed by the convinced look falling away, replaced by doubt and a hint of hurt. But in the very next moment, all of that vanishes and he goes back to convinced. Only this time, the look is... off.

“I-I see, sir.” He rubs the back of his head. “I-I’m sorry. I just, well, uh, I hate seeing you in pain. Like, ah, a-at all.”

No, hold on. Now that I’m paying attention, I can see the subtle facial cues that give away how his conviction is false. Very subtle cues. It’s otherwise an exceptionally good front, one that no normal zebra would give even a second thought to. And his tone of voice never once shifted to indicate that he was lying, truly completing the deception.

He’s a good liar, too.

But his care and affection for me never once struck me as false or forced, even in this moment of observation; he really does seem to be taken by me. Which begs the question. He knows I just lied to him, but is pretending otherwise. So who is he trying to convince? Me? Or himself?

“M-mister Zobachi? Uhh,” Some colour wells up in his cheeks. “A-any reason you’re staring at me like that?”

“Ah.” I blink. “Forgive me. It’s rare that somezebra actually believes me, where my condition is concerned.”

“I just wish I could have stocked up on all that darkdream like you wanted, sir.”

Shit. The darkdream tonic: that was the hole in my story. Curse this damned headache, I should have thought of that! He doesn’t react to the brief alarm I know just flashed through my eyes, despite my best efforts to mask it. Either he’s far better at deception than I am, or he can’t read zebras nearly as well as I can. At this stage, I had no way to tell. For now, I’d best operate under the former until I can determine otherwise.

“Yes.” I’m very careful to keep my tone under control, to not give away that I knew anything. “But as I said, that wasn’t your fault.”

“I know,” he sighs sadly. “But I still feel bad about it.”

He buried that false conviction under his genuine sadness quickly. And very well, at that; there was no trace of his deception left at all. I don’t know exactly what this zebra’s game is, but now I had an additional variable to track—one with severe potential consequences—on top of everything else. That alone would be grounds for a headache. Too bad I’m already covered in that regard.

Which reminds me. With my body mostly back under control, I begin slowly rising to my hooves again, which immediately made Zelac anxious.

“H-hey, no! You still need to rest!”

“What I need is to be cleaned up. The last thing I need is a guard finding me like this and asking questions.” Let alone the Princes discovering my secret.

“I said, you still need to rest!” He remains cute while trying to be stern, even if recent revelations have damaged the effect.

“I can rest later. Right now, I want to see what’s happening outside.”

“Sir, please!”

“You aren’t going to win this, Zelac.” I flash him a small, self-assured smirk. “You should know by now that my endurance far exceeds yours.”

That simple, suggestive declaration left his mouth hanging open as he struggled to think of a response through the sudden introduction of fluster, his cheeks rosy to show for it. Strange: all of his expressions and emotions were genuine.

“Oh, fine!” he huffs, crossing his forelegs. “Be that way! B-but, well...” He gives me a pleading look as he taps his hooves together and chews his lip a bit. “A-any chance I can help you with that? C-cleaning up, I-I mean.”

“That, doctor,” I chuckle, once again pressing my snout to his. “I’d be happy to get help with.”

If he could tell the chuckle wasn’t entirely genuine, he didn’t show it. But his happy squeal certainly was the real deal.

“Is this all of the damage?” Luna asked of the nearby guardstallion as she looked over the noticeable crack along the leg of Anonymous’s statue.

“I-it is, your highness,” the guard stammers. “B-but the, the statue, it, well, h-how do I—”

“I am not interested in having the blow softened, guard. Speak plainly.”

The normally stoic unicorn is too shaken up by the entire situation to respond beyond just stammering and sweating, leaving a nearby pegasus to explain the situation instead, though with a definite edge of fear to her voice.

“The unicorns had to drop their shield spells, your highness. Every time they put them up, the crack started getting bigger.”

That was not what she wanted to hear at all. Keeping her serious expression and tonality intact, she continued pressing for answers.

“How much?”

“Only a little bit, princess: nowhere near as fast as it started. But there it is.”

“I see. And to those of you on shielding duty,” she called to the unicorns on duty, “Have you experienced any horn pain or draining sensations during the attempt?”

The unicorns on duty answered in the affirmative, confirming her worst suspicions. This crack had breached the statue’s magical insulation, and allowed him the ability to drain magic once again, even if to a much weaker extent. They no longer had the luxury of time to address the statue: they had to transport him now, before this could get any worse.

“Maintain your watch and double your numbers,” she orders. “Under no circumstances is any magic permitted within a ten-yard radius of the statue.”

With that, she moved to the safe distance she had just prescribed before lighting her horn with a teleportation spell, vanishing in a flash and appearing in Celestia’s bedchambers again. Her sister was, as before, writing letters in a frenzy and sending them nearly once every three seconds.

“How bad is it?” she asked without looking over, visibly upset by these events.

“Very.” That response alone caused Celestia’s ears to fold back, but didn’t stop Luna from elaborating further. “He’s able to absorb magic through the breach. For the moment it is not much, but the more he takes, the greater the breach becomes.”

“How did this happen?!” she finally snaps, her utensils and parchment dropping abruptly as she grabs hold of Luna by the withers. “You said he didn’t have any dreams!”

“He didn’t,” Luna confirms, remaining composed. “I’ve affirmed as such every night, including this one. The only new variable is our guests, whose dreams I could detect.”

Celestia takes a moment to breathe and attempt to relax. “So what did they do?”

“I intend to find out. Everypony else has gathered in the dignitary’s quarters already. They only wait for us to arrive. I will discover the truth of this matter then.”

Celestia took a few more moments to practice a calming breathing exercise: the same one she taught Twilight, in fact.

“Are you ready?” Luna asks, a note of concern in her otherwise deadly serious tone.

“I don’t think I can be ready,” Celestia admits, “But I can hold it together.”

“That will do.”

That was all the cue the sisters needed to cast another teleportation spell, taking the two to the Princes’ bedchambers. All the Elements and Princesses were assembled and speaking to each other or the Princes in some capacity, but Queen Novo’s expression and countenance was an easy match for Luna’s in terms of how promptly and seriously she was treating this event.

“I sent word to our two airships already,” Novo immediately opened to the sisters. “The first is already waiting at the Storm Island base to escort the captain’s ship. The other is still at Mt. Aris, but it’ll be flying straight to the base at full burn in a matter of minutes. It’ll be there on time.”

“Good,” Luna responds, the two sharing a nod before she then addresses the rest of the room. “The situation is bad. The statue has cracked and can no longer repel magic. For now, he can absorb only a trickle through that crack, but doing so widens it ever more. The risk of his release is now very severe, and we must send him away now, without delay, before things can get worse.”

Ignoring the nervous chattering between almost everypony, Luna turns her sights to the two Princes, where Zakurai was still mid-translation for Zabraxas. Each sat on their beds with only gauze on their snouts to show for the damage they had suffered, exhaustion notwithstanding.

“Now, I believe we are owed some answers.” Luna made no effort to couch her demand in a question.

“A confession, first,” Zakurai began, his voice still somewhat strained. “This was the second time we encountered your Anonymous in our dreams.”

“I beg your pardon?” Luna spat in disbelief while the other ponies exclaimed in shock. “When, precisely, were you planning on relaying that information?”

Zakurai began by taking a breath, and then stepped off of his bed to approach Luna. His approach was halted, however, by Zabraxas calling out to him.

(“You know you are not to tell any of the Radiant Dream,”) Zabraxas stated, the undertone of a threat in his words.

(“In case it escaped your notice, she’s already seen the Radiant Dream!”) he snapped back, uncharacteristically angry.

(“You know what the Elders will do if you speak of it.”)

(“And I know what he will do if he manages to escape,”) he fires back. (“Intentional or not, the Dream may well have caused this. They deserve to know about that cause.”)

(“You will regret doing this.”)

(“I already regret not doing it far more.”)

(“If the two of thee art finished quibbling,”) Luna interjected, (“We expect thine answer immediately.”)

Zakurai reeled, taken aback again by her ability to actually speak Zebrikaans, even if it was in such an old dialect. But as quickly as the surprise came, he pushed it away to focus on the matter at hoof, ignoring Zabraxas’s pointed glare all the while.

“Princess Twilight,” he began in Ponish once again, getting said princess’s attention. “I told you about the way we can silently communicate with one another, yes? That was only one means: a lesser-used one, and the only means the Elders permitted me to share.”

“S-so, you mean the main way is through your dreams?” she asks.

“The Radiant Dream,” he confirms. “Through it, we can reach out and commune with others sharing the Gift across kilometres, all while benefiting from sleep. Well, assuming all those in the Dream are friendly with one another.”

“And then they can harm one another,” Luna infers.

“Not like this,” he sighs, looking back over at her. “Princess, I’ve known the Radiant Dream from my very infancy. I’ve trained extensively in it from the moment I spoke my first word. I know the pain that is possible to inflict in it. And what I just felt tonight is... should be utterly impossible.”

“Tonight? This didn’t happen the previous night?”

“No, it didn’t. The encounter was exhausting and painful, yes. But in the way I expected; never to the point of actual wounds. I’ve never even heard of such a thing being possible.”

“And yet here you are.”

“And yet here we are,” he echoes. “Though I had no idea that you, too, were capable of entering our dreams.”

“Not yours. Everypony’s. It is my duty as Princess of the Night to banish the nightmares of my subjects. So you can imagine my own shock when two Princes dropped into my realm unannounced, each with great suns anchored into them.”

“Everypony’s dreams...?” he quietly echoes to himself in disbelief. “I had no idea. But if so, how did you evade that creature’s dreams for so long?”

“I didn’t. Until this night, I was not aware he was even capable of dreaming.”

“You didn’t know? So then...” His brow knits in thought, rises in realization, and then falls in sorrow. “Oh, gods. He must have entered your dream through ours. And once linked, he was able to siphon some of your power through it.”

“That would be the logical conclusion, yes. Though seeing the power he wielded there was... horrifying, to say the very least.”

“It was. Those suns you saw? They are a manifestation of the Gift, and they always reflect the peak of their current potential. That is the destruction you can expect, should he ever obtain his fill of energy.” His eyes become slightly unfocused as he is lost in a disturbing memory. “I’ve only ever seen comparable power in one other zebra. But I’ve never felt power so... warped before. I don’t think I could truly call it foreign, either: alien would be more accurate.”

Abruptly, Luna looked over to her sister. “Was there any reported change in the statue last night, when these two would have dreamt with it?”

Celestia immediately summoned several rolls of parchment, quickly scanning their contents for an answer.

“No, there wasn’t,” she replies.

“Then it seems that this ‘Radiant Dream’, by itself, is not capable of freeing him. If nothing else, that is a small comfort.” She turns back to Zakurai. “Regardless, we should both discontinue such dreaming until he is secured.”

“I wish it were as simple for us as it is for you, your highness,” he responds sadly with a slow shake of his head. “You already know we cannot control how we absorb magical energies. The same is true of the Radiant Dream. We can’t not enter it, and I know of no way to stop it’s onset.”

She frowns deeply before voicing the implication aloud. “Then you are cursed to battle with him for the entire length of your journey.”

A weary, apprehensive sigh leaves him as he sits onto the floor, rubbing his head. “Before this point, I always looked forward to my time in the Dream.” The exhaustion couldn’t have been more apparent on Zakurai’s face at this moment. “Now, for the first time, I sit in active dread of it.”

“Well what the hay are we all standing around for, then?” Rainbow Dash exclaims, flying in the centre of the room. “Let’s go throw that loser in jail, already!”

Agreement sounded out all around, and everypony got to their hooves and started towards Anonymous in a large group.

“Will you be okay?” Twilight murmured to Zakurai, full of concern for the zebra’s well-being.

“We packed supplies under the assumption that every day would end in grievous injuries, Princess,” he replies, his reassuring smile damaged somewhat by the note of pain still on his features. “I will survive, that I can assure you.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He sighs, exhausted. “A foe with horrifying power beyond my darkest dreams is going to haunt my nightmares for the next week, likely more. I don’t know how I can be okay, your highness.”

Her ears fold back, and she regrets ever asking the question.

“Wonder if we oughta pack some coffee for ‘em,” Applejack queries aloud.

“‘Coffee’?” the Prince questions, confused.

“Oh yeah,” Dash laughs with a knowing tone. “Definitely packing some coffee.”

“Done,” Celestia declares off-hoofedly, sending a small scroll away and shooting the two Elements a knowing wink, the two responding with a small laugh.

(“There is another matter We wish to discuss with thee,”) Luna began in Zebrikaans, drawing the attention of the two Princes.

Celestia pretended not to understand. Luna and her both brushed up on the language from the old notes and books they still had from their last visit to Zebrica, which Celestia had preserved from their old castle in the Everfree. It was a struggle for her to keep her ear from swivelling towards them, thus giving away her understanding of the language, but she managed.

(“During the dream, We were acutely aware of thine suns’ draw on our power, intentional or not.”)

(“I-I apologize profusely,”) Zakurai replied, seemingly genuine. (“Were I able to control—”)

(“There were three.”)

Zakurai looked up in confusion. Zabraxas looked up in irritation.

(“E-excuse me?”)

(“There were two pulls upon mine power at first: yours and thy cohort’s. During Our questioning, before the arrival of Anonymous, We felt a third pull.”)

(“You did? So, so that’s why you just took off like that?”)

(“Indeed. We found fire damage. Evidence of a third sun.”)

(“There’s another Gifted out here?”) Zakurai replied, shocked.

(“Thou art implying that this new cypher was always here?”)

(“Well, I—”)

(“The only Gifted that have come here are myself and Prince Zakurai,”) Zabraxas cut in, downright offended at the implications Luna was making. (“There are no others.”)

(“Thou art quite sure?”)

(“None can hide in the Radiant Dream. None can escape my vigil.”)

(“Indeed?”) Luna’s brow raised, the mare unconvinced. (“This third cypher certainly escaped well enough, if even We could not find them.”)

(“You argue from ignorance. To hide in the Dream takes a toll. No Gifted has lasted more than a week, hiding themselves in such a manner. All who tried were driven to madness. To suggest that one would have lasted for the full two weeks of our journey so far, let alone while untrained in the Gift, is foolish. You will cease imputing such nonsense immediately.”)

(“We dearly hope, then, that thy are correct, young Zabraxas.”) Luna’s chilling tone brought Zakurai pause, but only hardened Zabraxas’s glare. (“If thy are not, then thine arrogance places us all in intractable peril.”)

Celestia frowned at how confrontational Luna was being, but neither princess was quite prepared for Zabraxas’s prompt rebuke.

(“Do not speak to me of arrogance, princess,”) he spat in a low growl, his glare more judgmental than it was condescending. (“You chose to delay the internment of this ‘Anonymous’ creature, foolishly believing you had the luxury of time. You chose to prioritize banal and trite social graces over the swift resolution of this serious threat. Do not dare deceive yourself into believing for one moment that this outcome was anything less than the product of your own chasmic arrogance.”)

Luna and Zakurai alike were taken aback by his words, their mouths agape. Celestia had enough presence of mind to hide her own shock. Zabraxas, however was not finished.

(“And make no mistake: your decisions are more offensive to me than simply being borne of sloth and complacency. Most offensive to me, princess, is that they are characteristic of the Old World, of the Old Kings.”)

Luna did not react to that comparison well. (“You dare—?!”)

(“Spare me your sanctimony,”) he interrupts. (“Your actions conveyed more than your words ever will.”)

(“That is enough!”) Zakurai bellows, physically inserting himself between the two glaring royals and pushing them apart. (“For the love of the gods, this is neither the time nor the place for this! Our enemy grows stronger the longer we spend bickering with one another!”)

Everypony by this point was staring at the spat the two royals were having, and though they didn’t understand the words spoken, all were thankful for Zakurai’s interruption, understanding his meaning well enough. Celestia in particular found herself liking the young Prince quite a bit, her initial good impressions of the stallion being affirmed more and more.

(“He does,”) Luna finally agrees after a lengthy glare at Zabraxas, righting her posture as she recomposes herself.

Zabraxas says nothing, his expression adopting some annoyance as his only outward reaction. He continues to offer no response as he began to walk forward once again. Zakurai was visibly relieved when Luna also resumed her walk without further comment beyond a small snort. He was quick to pick up the pace, keeping himself between the two to hopefully head off another row before it starts.

Celestia, meanwhile, hadn’t forgotten the subject that started the argument in the first place: the presence of another cypher in the dream realm. If what the Princes said was true, and if a cypher hiding in that shared dream really was impossible for extended periods of time, then it stands to reason that Zabraxas, despite his poor manners, may be right about them being the only two to have come here. That, however, meant there would be a cypher here instead. But who? Where?

She did not have to think for long about who it would be. Or, to be more precise, what it would be: the Staff of Sacanas. With that realization, she drafted another order to have it investigated for any changes or signs of damage to it’s containment, and sent it without delay. She and Luna would investigate it personally once Anonymous was loaded onto the airship, to make sure that nothing would be overlooked.

However, if the Staff wasn’t the culprit? That would mean there must be another cypher with the zebras, which meant that hiding in that shared dream was in fact possible, despite Zabraxas’s insistence to the contrary. There simply could not be an Equestrian cypher in play: if cyphers did indeed all possess this shared ‘Radiant Dream’, then Luna would have been preyed upon in the dream realm by Anonymous long ago. It had to be a zebra.

“Sooo, uhm, Luna?” Twilight sheepishly asked as she trotted up beside her, trying to break some of the lingering tension. “I, uhm, didn’t know you could speak their language.”

“Nor did I,” Zakurai adds, now quite curious about the subject. “Though I’ve never heard a dialect quite like yours, your highness. May I ask how you learned?”

“I learned long ago,” Luna began, “In preparation for our first meeting with one of your ‘Old Kings’ long ago.”

“Wait, you met with one of the Old Kings?!” Zakurai blurted excitedly. He quickly translated for Zabraxas, who then also turned to look at Luna with an impassive eye.

“The meeting went exceptionally poorly.” Luna’s words caused Zakurai’s ears to fold and burn with embarrassment. “King Zeddefen was a poor leader, more concerned with slaking his vices than leading his people. Indeed, my sister had to stay my hoof when he demanded that we join his harem of concubines. We cut all contact with Zebrica after that.”

If Twilight felt awkward for asking, Zakurai felt even worse. He looked even more awkward when he gave a translation upon Zabraxas’s request.

(“Zeddefen II, infamous for his unquenchable lust,”) Zabraxas recited almost automatically, his gaze holding actual sympathy for once. (“His debauchery sired dozens of successors that fought several bloody wars for the chance to claim the throne for themselves, and many of his more debased practices lived on until the end of the Old Line. Your decision to cut ties with our people for that is understandable, princess.”)

Zakurai opted not to translate, instead summarizing the Old King as, indeed, being a terrible zebra. Luna simply nodded her acknowledgement.

(“Be thankful you had not met his successor, Zidiim I, instead. He employed horrifying alchemy to shackle the minds of his—”)

Zabraxas’s words cut off with a choked gasp all of a sudden, the stallion stumbling to a stop in a cold sweat. Zakurai did much the same thing, the hairs of their coats standing solidly on end and their expressions shocked and unnerved.

“What’s wrong?” Twilight exclaimed.

“Gods above,” Zakurai whispered to himself before looking up and speaking with a slight tremor. “It’s him.”

“Anonymous? You can feel him?”

“Acutely. Y-your statue must have sealed most of his presence, too. Small wonder you couldn’t tell he was dreaming.”

(“We must deal with this creature,”) Zabraxas barks, uncharacteristically nervous now. (“We must deal with him now!”)

Everypony understood his meaning, if not his words. It was all the spurring they needed to pick up their pace.

God fucking damn it. You were this close—this close—to breaching containment! Just a few more seconds of putting the succ on, and your stint as the Sharmat would have culminated in you coming to ponykind again through fire and war! And those two just had to cockblock your ass, didn’t they? Yeah, they’re getting the special torments later on. They want the Sharmat experience? They’ll fucking get the Sharmat experience. And you will not be giving them the courtesy of the first blow.

Guess you’re back to feeling out another exit strat. But it wasn’t all bad news: your failed attempt at a jailbreak had, at the very least, yielded one very significant side benefit that you hadn’t anticipated at all.

The return of your conscious thoughts. And not just your thoughts, but the whole goddamn run of your fully armed and operational faculties! That’s right, bay-beeee, the A-non was no longer confined to just the dream realm!

Kinda.

You haven’t been conscious for that long, but your ongoing... circumstances have made the experience really, really fucking weird, even by your standards. Forget still being immobile, all of your flesh-and-blood sensation along with all five of your senses were straight-up not present, leaving you in a state of total sensory deprivation. Which would have driven you insane, if not for the weird part: you were still dreaming. And awake. Simultaneously.

As evidenced by ol’ Sunny ripping and fucking tearing the random beach you’re relaxing on as it boils the ocean with extreme prejudice.

Except your perception was evenly divided between experiencing a burning dreamscape and experiencing locked-in syndrome in a black void. Yeah, weird.

But then, after God only knows how long of experiencing absolute mu, you actually begin to feel something in consciousness-land. But not your other senses; this was something different. Something new, or... No, wait. This isn’t new. This is familiar! A whole new twist on an all-too-familiar sensation!

It’s your cypher powers! They’re pickin’ up something, acting like a straight-up sixth sense instead of the straightforward power set you’re all too familiar with. And in the happiest of coincidences, having all of your regular senses blacked right out just so happened to put you into the best possible state of ‘blinding one sense to enhance the others’. The new, unfamiliar input feels exceptionally weird and especially indescribable, but as your brain struggles to make sense of this new data, it begins using your other senses to try and map some meaning to it.

The first sense was touch: you could feel your skin—or rather, where your skin should be—tingling, and there was a feeling of temperature to go with it: a hot-and-cold kind of situation. Then came your sight: it began as distortions in the void that stuck out like a sore thumb, but slowly flickered to life as teensy little blurry embers in the far-off distance, each of as-yet undetermined colours.

Ol’ Sunny begins flaring up in response to the sensations, ready to drop several metric tons of whoop-ass on the new presences. Only, the presences were in the conscious world: nothing was there in the dream, and yet it reacted as if they were present.

Things start getting more detailed as your brain gets accustomed to processing this shiny new sixth sense. The embers begin to separate, take shape, and come into focus, while the tingle and temperature on your phantom skin begins to focus into smaller, radiating points: some hot, some cold. More details begin to become visible, not the least of which was the colours.

Said colours were immediately familiar, and just like that, your understanding clicked into place. Golden yellow, deep blue, teal, and bright purple? Come the fuck on, there’s no universe where that isn’t the magic of the princesses! The tingling refines even further to what you can only describe as a Spidey-Sense, all while the temperature of each individual tingle directly corresponds to the magical power you knew each alicorn was capable of wielding: Twilight and Celestia’s were really hot, Luna was decently hot, and Cadance was only warm.

Dude, this is so cool! You mean, you knew you wouldn’t get a grasp of all your cypher abilities with only a few months of training, but if you’re seriously going to develop magic Spidey-Senses next, you’re so down for it! Yep, it’s decided: once you’re out and back with the boys, you’re makin’ sensory deprivation chambers to train this up further. That’s just going to happen now. Because fuck yes!

But the alicorns weren’t the only sensations present in your sixth sense. There were two extra sensations present, very different from the others. In contrast to the tingling warmth of the alicorns’ magic, these sensations were pinching and cold. And they weren’t little floating embers—nope, make that mini stars now—like the princesses, either. These were outlines of equines, made out of pure trippy colour-fringing. Inside the outlines were the floating veins and arteries an equine would probably have, looking like something out of a Tool music video. Only, Tool videos have them all hooked up to Chakras or some shit, not to straight-up black holes where their hearts should be. Where it got super interesting—and super revealing—was both the colour and the effect of that power: one was red and fiery, with a decently cold sensation, while the other was icy blue raw power, feeling much colder than the other.

Oh, yeah. Those are your Princes, all right. Sans the mysterious yellow-flavoured guy. Still don’t know what his deal is.

Well regardless, all present varieties of floating raw power were congregated into a big group, and they were slowly making their way on over towards lil’ ol’ you. No need to guess what they’re up to: the pair of them were obviously here for you. Though whether they meant to destroy you or just ship your ass off to jail is another— aaaaaahh, is that their game? Did the pretty princesses call up the zeebs because they have a special cypher-grade jail cell they could use to deal with you for good? How interesting.

Though they probably weren’t counting on you being the mean, green, ass-kicking machine you were, even in slumberland.

Another sensation ripples across where your skin should be: the familiar spiritual fondling of your powers, as experienced from the Staff. The two Princes can be seen stumbling and coming to a stop, their body language all distressed. No doubt about it: they can feel you, now.

More importantly, you can feel them.

Huge bolts of power split through the ocean where those two would ordinarily be, creating fuckhuge columns of steam and huge splashes of superheated seawater. If they were actually there, their asses would be cinders right now.

Distressed by your mere presence—a completely understandable reaction from your enemies—the two urge the others to pick up their pace, until the group finally comes right up towards you. At this close distance, whoo boy, the power is intense! So intense, in fact, that you can feel a tiny trickle of power coming in just from pure osmosis! Seriously, those princesses are crazy sources of magic power: enough to make you wonder just how the Staff was able to sink that much juice in the first place! Sacanas really built it different, huh? As for the Princes, their glowing inner workings were super clear now, and the spiritual feeling became more lively the closer they got. Or, to be more specific, you were making it more intense on purpose, just to fuck with them. Evidently, it was working.

The pair just stands there for a bit, staring at you. The blue-flavoured guy, Mr. Stoic, looks to be losing his nerve. Red, on the other hand, is standing firm, more or less living up to his ‘hero’ schtick. But after a little bit of admiring the art, they do eventually signal to the princesses. And then you start moving relative to everyone else. You’re officially in transit!

Yep, definitely going to cypher jail. In Zebrica. If you remember the reports right, Zebrica’s tech level is pretty low, and definitely doesn’t include airships. So they must’ve touched base with Equestria and called for an aerial cab, especially for a guy as drop-dead dangerous as you. Well, Cid should be keeping tabs on your statue from a far distance: he’ll likely try to launch a big attack on your airship as it crosses the ocean. But the Princes being in play posed a very serious problem for that strat. And you don’t even know what the ponies will bring along to keep watch over you, either. He’d best be keeping tabs on events here and start factoring it all in. If he doesn’t, his jailbreak’s gonna go pear-shaped real fast. And losing some of the boys would be a damn shame.

Ooh, hold those thoughts. There’s the yellow guy, up above in the distance! And wouldn’t you know it, you’re headed straight for his position. He must be aboard the airship meant for you. He’s got to be keeping his cypher powers on the down-low. Why else would he have hidden back in dreamland?

Hmm...

Y’know, that gives you an idea.

“Seems we’re leaving already,” I note, looking down from the ship’s railing at all of the movement below.

“W-wow, they’re, uh, really in a hurry,” Zelac notes beside me, appropriately nervous about the situation. “What do you think happened?”

“Either a Prince was just poisoned to death,”—I wish—”Or whatever they’ve come here to do was just bumped to the top of their agenda.”

“Yuh-y-you mean th-that ‘g-great evil’ they were talking about?”

“Hard to imagine it could be anything else.”

And I had more reason than most to be afraid of that.

An honourguard messenger came barrelling towards the sky ship, just barely illuminated by the dim, stubborn light of dawn on the horizon, refusing to rise any further. Behind him were several pony guards and workers, the latter hauling wagonfuls of crates and supplies. With the environment as quiet as it was without all of the pony citizens gathered, I was able to hear what they were saying: the Princes were arriving with an... ‘anonymous’? I’m confused: why is he using ‘anonymous’ as a noun, rather than an adverb? That doesn’t make sense. Regardless, they were coming with something anonymous, and they had orders to let the ponies assist with their preparations, and for them to assist them in theirs. With that, all races below sprang into action, loading the cargo lift while the winged pony guards took flight, landing on the sky ship and getting a head start over their land-bound compatriots.

Among those winged guards were a very... different type of pony, one I did not see in the crowds from yesterday. For lack of a better description, they had the features of bats: bat-like wings, ears, eyes, and even a small pair of fangs. Their coats and equipment were much darker and more subdued to match. Of the two types of winged ponies, they were far more alert and active compared to the more normal, feather-winged ones, who looked as if they were awakened only a few minutes before. Were these... bat ponies a lesser-known subspecies? Were they secretive? Shunned, perhaps?

Blinking, I tear away from the new race of pony and refocus on events below; I could wonder about them at a later time. For the moment, we were not in their way, so they were content to ignore us in turn. Below, I saw weapons, foods, supplies, and other materials loaded on board as fast as the cargo lift could take it, with many of the avian pirates lending a claw with their superior grasping abilities to complement the manipulation sorcery of the horned ponies. Once things were loaded, the rest of the guards came aboard next, the workers retreating to the castle-palace with their empty wagons.

Once everyspecies was aboard, things turned into a mad rush to ensure things were secured. However, with the zebras and ponies unable to speak each other’s language, they had to rely on nonverbal cues and rudimentary gestures to maintain communication across the species divide, which was of limited effectiveness and slowed things further. In spite of that, they continued to work relatively fast, and I could already tell that the ponies held the edge in procedural efficiency. I found myself studying their motions as they worked, intent on learning more about their strange ways. This proved easy, since neither side bothered us much, outside of the odd request to move over somewhere.

Zelac, thankfully, was also pacified by the ponies’ work as well. He tried to speak to them a few times, but was ignored. Not surprising, given the magnitude of their—

ba-bump

The worst shiver I’ve ever felt in my life ricochets through my spine, the hairs of my coat standing solidly on end. I’m slammed with an overwhelming feeling of pressure, emanating from the castle-palace. Caught completely off guard, I emit a halted, choked gasp at the tidal wave’s worth of new sensation.

“Wh—? S-sir?” Zelac, noticing the noise, turns to face me as I stumble back and lean against the railing, concern etched onto his face. “Sir, are you all right?”

Sweat begins beading across my body. My breathing is noticeably laboured. I know this feeling. I know this pressure. After all that’s happened, how could I not know? But how? That’s impossible! This is reality, not a dream! How am I feeling the alien’s pressure in the waking world?!

From afar, the doors of the castle-palace are flung open, wrapped in yet another multicoloured glow. A column of pony soldiers march out, their expressions a mix of gravely serious and frightened for their lives. They herald the subsequent arrival of the entire group of twelve I’d seen from yesterday, along with the Princes and their honourguards. But instead of being in a group, they were surrounding and moving a large, flatbed cart, tense as a spring and ready to act at the slightest provocation.

What they have on that flatbed cart forces me to bite my lip to suppress my reaction.

It’s the alien.

Secured to the flatbed by way of numerous thick, heavy chains, the exceptionally lifelike statue of that alien drew all attention to itself with barely any effort. The statue stood like a great, decorative pillar, locked into a pose that communicated so much at once: the marks and discolorations in the stone were cuts and bruises, and combined with the ragged clothing covering it’s genitals, told me that the creature was in a great battle prior to being transmuted into it’s stony form. But it’s posture and countenance told a very different story: far from looking defeated, it looked smug. Amused. Defiant. Indeed, defiance was the primary thing it’s pose communicated, along with the unmistakable undertone of a threat: not only was it utterly unbothered by it’s own defeat, it was threatening the ones who had imprisoned it so. Telling them to pray to whatever gods they held dear that they could keep him contained, because if they couldn’t, he would inflict upon them far worse than whatever he had done to them before. And he would do it with a smile.

All of that, communicated clear as crystal with only body language.

“S-suh-sweet merciful Lord above,” Zelac whimpers. “What is that?”

Whatever fleeting relief I felt at the fact that the alien was contained was crushed under the knowledge that he would be brought on board. However, when I look down at the Princes, each flanking the statue, it’s impossible to miss just how deeply uncomfortable they are. Nor can I miss the signs of exhaustion, or the bandages wrapped around their snouts: I was right to think their noses would bleed, too. And of the ruler ponies present, the blue one looked exhausted to a lesser degree than the Princes. After what transpired in that godsforsaken dream, I’m shocked any of them are even able to stand. I escaped by the skin of my teeth, and I still suffered some injuries.

Though now that I see her in the flesh again, I’m again consumed by worries. She knew I was in the dream. I evaded her sight, yes, so I wasn’t immediately identified like I was in my first fateful encounter with Zabraxas. I’m not even sure if she saw the yellow sun, either. But she definitely knew it had drawn upon that strange moonlight. I would need to be exceptionally wary around her; she would be suspicious, and given the intelligence I know she harbours, she could very well see right through whatever fronts and lies I present. If she comes aboard, my best course of action would be to evade her again, in reality as it was in the dream. If I can’t? I dare not imagine the outcome.

“I... I want to go back, sir,” Zelac cuts in, once again appropriately frightened. “Tuh-to our room. I don’t want to—”

“Yes,” I mutter, trying to conceal how unnerved I was. “Yes, we should. Let’s go.”

Normally, I’d never pass on the opportunity to learn more. This was an exception I was more than happy to make. I swallow dry as I retreat below deck, trying to hide my distress from any onlookers. The pressure from the alien made this extremely difficult: it wasn’t just a simple yet powerful sensation, as it was in my dreams. It actively crawled across my hide like oily fingers, actively turned my stomach in an almost manual manner, and created a truly alien feeling sensation from deep within me that I lacked the words and understanding to describe, yet it also felt strangely, hauntingly familiar. All I knew was that it was disturbing and invasive, to the point of being outright violative.

I was beginning to feel sick by the time Zelac and I made our way into our cabin. I made for the sink and filled the basin, drinking some of the cool water to fill my roiling stomach before splashing my face with the remainder.

“You look pale, sir,” Zelac notes, resting a hoof on my withers.

“I don’t feel well,” I admit, seeing no sense in lying about the blindingly obvious. “I need to... lie down for a bit.”

He bit my tail and all but dragged me over to the bed upon hearing that, and waited on whatever requests for water I made as I struggled to adjust to the horrible sensation, enough that I would be able to at least mask the fact I was feeling it at all. My ongoing worries about what came next, or the intentions of that blue mare, only made matters worse.

Words cannot express how much I want this godsforsaken trip to be over already.

99 Problems

Twilight continued chewing on her lip, beside herself with worry. She knew that they would have to deal with Anonymous as soon as possible, but... not like this! To think that he was still conscious and dreaming inside of that statue, looking for his window to try and escape! Right under everypony’s noses! And now, he’s hurt not only Princess Luna, but the two Zebrican guests who came to help deal with him in the first place, all without ever lifting a single awful finger!

Her nerves were only helped somewhat when everypony and the statue were raised up into the ship, bringing her face-to-face with Captain Celaeno, waiting for them in the cargo bay.

“Well ahoy there, princess!” Celaeno calls out to Twilight, smiling. “Long time, no see!”

Twilight beamed despite the situation, and bounded forward to give her friend a hug, which she returned.

“It’s so good to see you again!” she chirped.

“Likewise.” Celaeno looked up to the rest of the ponies. “You all ready for the trip?”

The Element Bearers all affirmed as such. Letting go of Twilight, Celaeno stepped forward and gave the statue of Anonymous a good look, followed by a self-satisfied smirk and a flick of her claw to it’s nose.

“End of the line for you, ‘ya sick bastard,” she laughed at it. “You’re going away for a very long time.”

“I assume everything has been prepared?” Luna cut in, grabbing the captain’s attention.

“You know it, princess!” She shot Luna a wink. “We can take off whenever!”

“Then secure the statue and take flight without delay. Time is of the utmost essence here.”

“Aye aye, ma’am,” she chirps, throwing up a salute before getting down to business. “All right, crew, haul this wretch off to the special brig!”

The special brig was little more than a thick steel shipping box, bolted and welded into the ship’s normally wood-panelled metal frame. And the box was further reinforced with multiple dark metal plates—the same black metal used by the Storm King’s forces—that had been roughly hammered flat and crudely overlaid before being riveted into place. Celaeno and her crew had built this container during the repairs they made after the events at Mt. Aris, and made it specifically to store the vile man when the time came to deal with him for good. And sure enough, the statue fit perfectly within the enclosure. Celaeno and her crew took no small amount of pleasure in loading Anonymous in, and they worked quickly to close the heavy metal door and secure it with the multiple bolts, padlocks, and door bars they had put in, with some extra chains wrapped around the enclosure and padlocked together for good measure. The only open entrance to it now was a small viewing hole around the top-centre of the door, and even that could be closed with a metal slider and a padlock for even more of a good measure.

The moment the door itself had been shut on the statue, Prince Zakurai could be heard exhaling in relief, and more than a little surprise. When Twilight glanced over to see what was going on, she saw both Princes looking far less uncomfortable than they had been a moment before.

“A-are you all right?” she inquired.

“Much better,” he admitted, taking a moment to wipe his brow. “Goodness, his presence is far less... intense now. What in the world is that container made of?” he asked, pointing to the black metal in question.

“The thickest steel in the land, and as much of the Storm King’s metal as we could find!” Celaeno boasted, her crew echoing her pride all around.

“That black metal?” he inquired, stepping forward to touch it.

“Mm-hmm.” Celaeno nodded. “Don’t ask me what it’s made of, because nobody knows. But whatever it is, it’s really good at blocking out magic.”

“I can see that,” he notes, a light shiver running through him as he brushes his hoof across the metal.

“Anonymous wore a full suit of armour made of this metal,” Twilight informed him, the mere mention of his name grabbing his undivided attention. “It blocked magic before he could ever absorb it. He hid his powers for months that way. Even I didn’t realize what he was until near the very end of the invasion.”

“He hid his powers...?” Zakurai’s expression twisted in bewilderment and discomfort as he mulled that new information over, pulling away from the container and letting the crew finish locking it. “I don’t understand. Why would he ever want to hide his Gift?”

“To trick us,” Twilight explained. “To keep us guessing. Even at the very end, he never stopped surprising us, never stopped catching us off guard.”

“As clever as he is powerful,” He infers, sparing a haunted glance back at the container after a moment’s pause, muttering to himself. “But to hide his own Gift...?”

Zakurai said nothing further, choosing to gaze at the container with an unreadable expression. Twilight wasn’t sure why he was so bothered by the idea of Anonymous hiding his condition like that. Was it some kind of cultural thing? A Prince thing? Maybe he just couldn’t imagine ever needing to hide his own powers, let alone wanting to?

Leaving him to his thoughts for the moment, Twilight looked around to observe everypony else. Her friends helped out all around, aiding the guards with getting everything inside the bay in order. Prince Zabraxas barked orders at the honourguards, said zebras rushing around to get their own areas in order. And continuing the theme of ordering, Celestia and Luna issued their own orders to the guards, the latter princess and Zabraxas speaking every so often to better coordinate their efforts. But after a while, the two princesses began speaking in hushed voices to one another. Whatever Celestia told her caused Luna’s expression to become grave. She cast her gaze towards Twilight and Zakurai for a moment, said something to Celestia, and the two nodded in agreement about whatever they were discussing.

“Twilight, good Prince.” Luna beckoned the two over, and they met in the middle to listen to her words. “In a day’s time, possibly two, I shall send correspondence via letter. It is my wish that the two of you read my letter together, for it will concern possible threats to this journey.”

“Threats?” Twilight gasped.

“I will say no more until I confirm the details of the matter. For the moment, simply maintain your vigils.”

“I understand, Princess,” Zakurai replies with a polite nod.

Zakurai’s tone made it seem like he knew something that Twilight didn’t, and Luna’s knowing look in his direction all but confirmed it. She wondered if it was related to whatever they were discussing in their language, before they moved Anonymous. Whatever it was, she distinctly remembered how upset it made Zabraxas. She’d have to ask about it later.

In only a few minutes’ time, everything was finally ready for departure. Supplies were loaded and unpacked as needed, Celaeno and her crew had left to man their stations, and the guards were fully prepared and at maximum readiness. Satisfied with the results, the princesses along with everypony else not essential to the journey boarded the cargo elevator, and descended without delay.

“Be safe!” Spike exclaims, waving at Twilight.

“Keep in touch,” Celestia suggests more than she orders.

“We will!” Twilight says to both, waving back as they descend.

“Oh, shoot!” Queen Novo shot back up for a moment, placing a scroll and a special crystalline clam shell medallion in her hooves. “Almost forgot to give these to you, dear. Captain Walker’s expecting these to identify you all.”

“I-Identify?” Twilight asked, puzzled.

“To verify that we are who we are?” Zakurai infers.

“That’s right.” Novo nods to the Prince, becoming more serious. “Where Anonymous is concerned, I am taking no chances.”

“I understand,” he hums, giving her a diplomatic smile. “Your aid is greatly appreciated. I won’t forget this, Novo.”

“You’d best come back some time after this is all over, dearie!” she laughed. “I’d love to have you at Mt. Aris!”

“I assure you, I’ll make every endeavour to see you again,” he replied, noticeably happier for having spoken to her again.

With one last hoof shake between the two, Novo flew back down. The empty cargo lift raised back up, and once the bay doors closed in their wake, the airship’s engine started up immediately, it’s vibrations thrumming gently under everypony’s—and everyzebra’s—hooves. A quick jostling of inertia later, and the ship was officially airborne again.

Applejack and Rainbow Dash immediately peeled off towards one of the loaded crates, helpfully marked “COFFEE”. Just in time for Zakurai to fall back onto his rump, his short-lived talk with Novo not nearly enough to offset the exhaustion that fought to catch up with him.

“Gods, I never thought sleep would be my main issue during this journey,” he begins, trying to keep his eyes open. “Of all the problems I had considered, this was not one of them.”

“And you’re sure there’s nothing to be done about those awful dreams?” Rarity asked.

“If there is a solution, I would love to hear of it. But I don’t think one exists.” He lets out a small, sad laugh. “And here I was, thinking our first meeting would go so much better than this.”

“Don’t you sweat it!” Pinkie chirps, coming in for the sideways hug. “We’ve got toooons of time to make up for it!”

Twilight hums, mulling over some thoughts on how to let him sleep without dreaming. Most of the solutions she knew of needed magic, though, which was an obvious non-starter. She’ll have to brainstorm for a bit with the others.

Zakurai fights back a yawn, just in time for Rainbow and Applejack to return with a mugful of fresh coffee, plus some sugar packets and small containers of milk and cream.

“They packed the machines in there and everything!” Rainbow Dash laughs.

Zakurai sniffed a few times, the smell alone having it’s intended effect of rousing him. “What in the world is that?” he murmurs, looking at the offered mug.

“Pure happiness, is what,” Applejack chuckled. “All yours, pardner.”

Gingerly taking the mug in his hooves, Zakurai sniffs a few more times before giving it a small sip. His eyes widen and an approving hum leaves him, and the girls begin laughing a bit as he sips away on the still-hot drink, the additives left unused. The caffeine was already having an effect, injecting him with new life.

“Gods above, that’s good,” he groans. “I think I just found the first thing we’d be willing to trade for.”

Their shared laugh does much to lighten the mood.

INTERVAL II
Escape From Butcher Bay

I finally peer out from my door, sometime later in the afternoon. The stomping of hooves had quieted down about an hour before, so I assume that the ponies’ preparations had come to a halt. And indeed, both hallways seemed clear enough. Taking things at a very slow and careful pace, I step out into the hallway proper.

“I-is it safe?” Zelac murmurs behind me.

“Maybe,” I hum. “I’m not sure yet.”

That seemed to be good enough for him: he followed me out of the door and stuck close to my side. As I begin walking around to gauge what has changed, I try my best to ignore the constant, crawling pressure of the alien. Shortly after I felt the cargo lift ascend into the ship, it’s severity had lessened by at least an order of magnitude; I can only assume that it is the result of whatever they were containing the alien’s statue with. While it was immensely helpful, the sensation was still present: enough to remain irritating and unpleasant. If only it had been blocked out in it’s entirety.

I am not looking forward to tonight’s dream. But given what happened to that blue mare from before, I think it’s a safe bet that she will not be present: I doubt she would want a repeat of the alien’s enormous drain on her strange moonlight. But I didn’t know if she was on board or not, regardless of the dreams, so I was not out of danger yet. If nothing else, at least the dreams will likely just be me and the Princes again.

Tch. I say that as if it’s ideal.

As we travel around, we see the additional pony guards taking up posts of their own, usually opposite of their honourguard counterparts. Those strange bat ponies were nowhere to be seen now, however: it was now all the ‘normal’ winged and horned ones, with the odd wingless and hornless pony in attendance. This close, I can clearly see the details of their racial trimorphism: the ones without appendages were quite muscular and noticeably larger; similarly, the winged ones were lithe and agile, with the horned ones left with comparatively little physical advantage. In a way, it was a strange parallel to the imperial, plains, and mountain zebra tribes, respectively. It certainly was far more stark of a difference than the zebra tribes, at any rate! I don’t see any evidence of hybridization, though. Are these guards purpose-bred? Purpose-selected? Is hybridization even possible for them? No, it must be; those royal ponies clearly had all of their race’s extra appendages! But then, why were none of those types of ponies in the crowds from before? Are they the ones purpose-bred? If so, do they cull outliers like the Princes cull Gifted outliers? Is such a thing even feasible, even with the benefit of sorcery? Or...

No, there’s too many unknown variables for my speculation to be productive. The only thing I am certain of is that I need to know much, much more. But given the language barrier, and my heavy doubts that Zakurai will be doing any translating on my behalf, that means I’ll be forced to make my own observations. Nothing new under the sun there.

The cargo bay is my next destination, but right away I notice a serious increase in the number of guards, and not one of them is anything less than fully alert. Even some of the avian crew are here as guards. The honourguards that are present immediately shoo me away, and do not give me a reason for blocking my access. I could infer the reason well enough: they must be keeping the alien in there. Reason enough for me to avoid the bay, though I am somewhat disappointed: it was one of the better places to simply sit in quietly when I needed to avoid others.

I notice excited chattering as I approach the mess hall next, but I don’t recognize the multitude of new female voices. I do, however, recognize the voice of Zakurai, though too late: I wouldn’t have stepped into the hall if I’d heard him earlier. But the gathering of pony mares at the table catches sight of me, preventing me from just quietly turning to leave without risking some kind of incident.

Wait, these mares, they’re the five from that lineup of twelve! And with them is that purple hybrid royal, devoid of her ornamentation. They all begin chattering curiously upon seeing me. And then Zelac goes and pokes his head out next, making their chatter more lively.

“Ahh, good afternoon, convicts!” Zakurai calls out from his spot on the table, strangely energetic and wakeful after all he’s gone through. “Don’t mind them, I’ll be making an announcement soon—”

“Ohmygoshohmygosh,” Zelac squeaks, squeezing past me and darting forward towards the group. “It’stheponiesfromthemeeting!”

I do not like how that pink mare is twitching. And I definitely do not like how she zoomed forward to meet Zelac in the middle. That mare’s eyes were full of youthful playfulness and fun, but there was a certain edge of madness to them that made me very uneasy. If Zelac noticed, he didn’t seem to care. The two of them pranced in place, jabbering at each other with wide smiles and stars in their eyes, language barrier be damned. Zakurai looked on in intrigue, while the other mares all gathered around, beckoned by their pink compatriot.

“Goodness, son,” Zakurai exclaims, about as surprised as I was. “I didn’t think you’d be this excited to see them.”

He can say that again. With everyzebra—and everypony—distracted, I shuffle over towards the breadbox, having formulated the excuse of coming here for a few rounds of pita if I’m asked. I’m careful to make my body language much more clear as well, making my discomfort and distrust of the ponies as obvious as possible to hopefully avoid any interactions. Especially with the sorcerers.

Unfortunately, that pink one doesn’t take a hint, and zooms straight over towards me next, wearing a huge, beaming smile as she gets right into my face.

Absolutely not.

“Back, back!” I snarl, ears and tail pinned as I step back and away. “Back the hells up!”

That response was more reflex than intent, and thus came on far too strong. The mare flinches, a flash of heartbreak in her eyes. That wasn’t very polite. But then, rushing me wasn’t very polite, either. If she weren’t obviously important, if I wasn’t a prisoner of the damned Princes, I’d have dropped her with a jab to the throat right then and there.

Zakurai says something to the pink mare, I assume something about not rushing zebras like that. The pink one pouts for a moment, then says something to me with big, watery eyes.

“She says she’s sorry for surprising you like that,” he translates. “Now, apologize to her.”

Arguing about it will not go over well, I could already tell. So with a small, resigned sigh, but without lowering my guard, I do just that.

“My... apologies,” I manage, looking over at the Prince next. “Listen, I just want to eat something. Let me grab some bread, and I’ll be out of your manes.”

That hum of his was disappointed. I couldn’t care less what he thinks of my conduct. In the end, he does indeed let me take some food, though I have to keep my distance from, and my head turned towards, the other mares who have gathered around, especially the sorcerers.

“Y-you go on ahead, sir!” Zelac chirps, waving me off. “I want to stay here with them a bit longer!”

If that’s how he wants to die, fine. I, meanwhile, will be having absolutely no part of this. Once I get my opportunity to leave, I do so immediately and promptly. Though I haven’t forgotten about Zakurai’s intent to make an announcement later.

“He says that his name is Zelac,” Zakurai translates, “And that’s he’s... Well, I think you can see for yourselves how excited he is to see you all.”

Indeed, that Zelac zebra could barely contain himself, his smile an easy match for Pinkie’s and that sparkle of curiosity in his eyes an easy match for Twilight’s. He shook with excitement in his seat next to Prince Zakurai, bursting with energy and questions.

“Let’s not give this guy any coffee,” Rainbow whispers to Applejack with a knowing smile, which she returned with a nod of agreement.

Twilight had seen these zebras from afar during their first meeting: it was hard to miss them given their lack of armour. But seeing one of Zabraxas’s ‘reforming’ prisoners up close was exciting in it’s own way, especially for one like this Zelac, who was so eager to speak to them. He was a tiny bit smaller than the average pony stallion, only around half an inch or so, and his sparse stripe patterns reminded her of Zecora, in a way: it was nothing like the much denser and thinner patterns on that other much larger and more standoffish zebra that came with him.

Twilight suppressed a frown at the thought of Zecora. When she shared the news of the Princes’ arrival with her, she had immediately reacted with suspicion, even a little hostility. She’d cut Twilight off and demanded to know which Princes were coming. She didn’t recognize the name Zakurai, but she did recognize Zabraxas, and told Twilight in no uncertain terms to never mention her name to anyzebra, or even infer that a zebra was there at all. It was the first time Twilight ever remembered Zecora looking truly afraid. She didn’t know at the time why she’d been so afraid of Zabraxas in particular, but seeing that metal collar clasped around the neck of Zelac and the other zebra prisoners was starting to give her a good idea.

She only wished she’d shared more details before storming off.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she flashed a polite smile towards Zelac. “It’s very good to meet you, Zelac. I’m Twilight Sparkle.”

Upon hearing the translation, he squealed with glee, planting both hooves on the table and speaking in rapid fire, far faster than Zakurai could reasonably understand. He had to pull him back a bit, which only temporarily dampened his spirits.

“I’d announced your name and title to the prisoners before our arrival here,” Zakurai explained with a small chuckle. “Needless to say, he’s full of questions.”

Noticing the obvious problem, Rarity speaks up next. “Certainly more than you could reasonably translate.”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Zakurai agrees. “I certainly hate being the bottleneck in this surprising display of your specialty of friendship, but I’m afraid I don’t see a good solution here.”

“Ain’t there some kinda spell ‘ya can use ta’ translate or somethin’, Twilight?” Applejack pipes up.

Zakurai immediately tensed at the mention of a spell. “I wouldn’t advise that.”

“No?” Twilight asked. “Why not? I do know a spell for it, but it’s—”

“It’s not you, your highness,” he reassures. “I know your intentions are good. But, well, magic has a very... poor reputation in Zebrica.”

Rainbow Dash leaned forward a bit more. “Uhh, how bad are we talking here?”

“Very bad, sad as it is to say. You see, there is a race of evil sorcerers in our lands called the abadas. They are the source of many a frightening foal story, a good number of which are quite warranted, I’m hesitant to admit. It just so happens that they also have magical horns, very similar to that of your unicorns.”

“Oh, my,” Fluttershy whimpers.

“That won’t... complicate matters too much, will it?” Rarity hums, self-consciously touching her own horn.

“Not with any of our honourguards, of that I can assure you,” Zakurai replies, a hint of sadness colouring his next words. “The prisoners, on the other hoof? Well, to be quite honest with you, I’m rather shocked that mister Zelac here is as unbothered as he is, miss Rarity.”

When he gestured to where Zelac was, everypony was surprised to see him missing from his spot. But they weren’t kept wondering for long: he’d moved over to Fluttershy at some point, the mare in question giggling a little as she received some very gentle and reassuring nuzzles to her neck.

Zakurai questions him, and his brows rise at his soft reply. “He, er... he says he didn’t like seeing her upset,” he translates, genuinely surprised at the zebra’s actions.

Not to be left out, Pinkie immediately squished herself between the two and hugged them both close. Zelac laughed with her, never once looking put off. Seeing him behave like this gave Twilight an idea.

“Zakurai,” she began, looking back at the Prince. “Would you mind asking him about his feelings towards magic?”

Understanding where she was going with this, yet nevertheless looking doubtful, he nods his agreement and asks his question. Once again, he reacts with surprise at the spirited response Zelac gave.

“Goodness, I...” Zakurai blinks, then awkwardly scratches the back of his head. “He’s not just unbothered, miss Twilight. He’s actually asking if you do know a magical means of translation.”

“Well,” Twilight chirps, beaming at Zelac. “It just so happens that I do, if he’s willing to try.”

He beams right back, asking her what needs to be done for it to happen. The spell Twilight knew was an enchantment: she could embed her own understanding of Ponish into an item that can be worn, like a ring or an amulet. And when somepony does wear it, it interprets the meaning of whatever they say, and plays a translation out loud. It wasn’t perfect, and it certainly wasn’t a real-time method, but it was also a stepping stone to a more potent version of the enchantment, which contained a complete understanding of both languages and could translate perfectly between the two in real time. That version was used by unicorn historians to preserve old languages, but she sadly didn’t remember the details out of hoof: she would need to ask for a copy of the spell.

Fortunately, there was a new spell she did know that could help in that department: the message spell that Celestia had always used to send her letters through Spike. She’d learned it as part of her preparations for this journey, and she was elated to finally have a good first use of it. Once she relayed both her plans and her intentions to the others, she quickly composed a letter with her magic and sent it, Zelac looking on in wonder at her hornwriting. He really wasn’t afraid of their magic.

Zelac stated his willingness to wait for the ‘proper’ version of the spell, though his excited trembling could have fooled her. Pinkie sat next to him, synchronizing her trembles with him as a little joke that the two were rather enjoying. Twilight only had to wait a minute before the response came, the curious zebra oohing and aawing at the flare of dragonfire that gave way to the scroll she requested. She wasted no time in reading through it, with Zelac hovering nearby and gaping at the arcane symbols with wonder.

“Two way dragonfire messages?” Zakurai notes aloud with some wonder of his own. “That’s incredibly useful.”

“You have dragons in Zebrica as well?” Rarity asked before Twilight could.

“I’m not quite sure how similar they are to yours, but yes, we do,” he confirms.

“Ah’m guessin’ they ain’t as, er, friendly as ours?” Applejack queried.

“They hate us,” he confirms once again. “To the point of waging war on us for territory. I’ve had to repel dragon attacks quite a few times, in fact. So you can imagine how surprised I was to meet young Spike.”

“Waitwaitwait, you fight dragons?!” Rainbow exclaims.

“It’s not as epic as you’re imagining, I’m afraid,” Zakurai says with a friendly, disarming chuckle. “Dragonfire is magical, so it doesn’t harm those of us with the Gift. In fact, most dragons end up running once they realize a Prince has arrived.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask for a while now, darling,” came Rarity’s sudden change of subject. “You keep calling your abilities ‘the Gift’. Why is that?”

Twilight kept an ear out for the answer while she focused on memorizing the spell matrix. As for Zakurai, he relaxed a bit in his seat, his countenance becoming at once both thoughtful and proud.

“Because that’s precisely what it is, lady Rarity; a Gift.” His pride made it’s way into his words. “The Gift that ended the reign of the Old Line for good. The Gift that ushered in a new age of peace for all zebrakind. The Gift that allowed the Four Lines to preserve this peace in perpetuity, that we may never again fall back to the chaos of the Old World.”

“Wow,” Rainbow quietly exclaimed.

“You’ve mentioned these ‘Lines’ before,” Rarity hummed. “You were in the ‘First Line’, if I recall?”

“And Zabraxas is of the Third, yes,” he finishes for her, nodding at her before proceeding. “Four distinct lines of royal blood, each carrying their own Gift. Each with their own perspective on how to protect and serve Zebrica, and all united in that common goal.”

“But the way you spoke about this ‘Old Line’ rather makes it sound as if they were all descended from it, Zakurai.”

“That is because they are, miss Rarity. Each of the Four Lines are the direct descendants of the original Four Princes, each the son of the last King of Zebrica, Zidiim VII. Prince Zaktu, of the First Line, wielder of the Purifying Flame.” His hoof comes up, briefly conjuring a small ball of red fire in his frog to demonstrate. His eyes beamed with pride as he looked into the fire, and everypony looked on with new wonder at his power before he dismissed it and continued. “Prince Zanaan of the Second Line, who commanded the Well of the Stars. Prince Zoban of the Third Line, who summoned the Frozen Blades. And Prince Zaabal of the Fourth Line, the source of the mighty Light of Order.”

Applejack let out a low whistle. “Wow. That’s some history y’all’ve got, pardner.”

“I’m sure yours is no less beautiful, miss Applejack,” he replied with a polite smile.

“Wait, lemmie guess what happened next!” Rainbow exclaimed again, actually quite excited by his retelling. “They rebelled and took down that king, right?”

“They did,” Zakurai confirmed. “The Old Line was becoming ever more stagnant, you see, and Zidiim VII wanted to renew his family’s strength. To that end, he abducted four mares from the three zebra tribes, and...” He cringed a bit. “Well, I don’t think I need to expound on what he did to them. But according to legend, this sacrilege was a step too far for the gods, and so they blessed the newborn Four Princes with the Gift, just as their mothers had blessed them with the gift of conscience, long absent in the Old Line. When they came of age, they fought the Old King and emerged triumphant, and in so doing ushered in the New World.”

While nopony liked hearing about the fates of the original Princes’ mothers, Rarity and Fluttershy were especially repulsed at that part of the story. Rainbow Dash, however, remained excited in spite of that momentary pall.

“I won’t pretend that the New World started on a good note, even if that’s the narrative many would prefer to go with. One can’t undo over a millennia of damage from the Old Line in just one battle, after all. I can tell you, however, that after three generations of rule under the Princes, Zebrica made it’s recovery. And every generation after that saw our land flourish. Some, more than others, of course. But always a positive trend.”

Rarity once again hummed her understanding, but Applejack beat her to the next question.

“So what’s up with these ‘Elder’ folks ‘ya were talkin’ about before?”

“Oh, them? They’re simply elderly Princes, miss Applejack. Even the Gift can’t stave off age’s effects, but there’s no reason they can’t still apply their decades of wisdom and experience towards aiding Zebrica. The Elders remain in the Quaternary Palace to govern the Empire, which relieves some of our burden as Princes. Thus enabling us to apply our Gift towards the good of Zebrica, as often as we can.”

“Ah guess that makes sense. But then, how do y’all hoof the reins over to the young’uns? There some kinda ceremony or somethin'?”

“There is, miss Applejack: the grand Ceremony of Succession. When the time comes for a Prince to retire, every Prince and Elder gathers at the Quaternary Palace to officiate the transfer of the title to the most promising member of his Line.” Zakurai looks lost in a very pleasant memory. “The day I accepted the mantle of Prince from Elder Zeddicus was one of the proudest moments of my life. I don’t even think the crowds of zebras that came to watch were as happy as I was.”

“It sounds like an awful lot of pressure,” Fluttershy remarks.

“A tremendous amount, lady Fluttershy. But I was raised for this role, trained since I was a foal. I knew what I was getting myself into.”

“And these Ceremonies,” Rarity further questioned, “Have you officiated any yourself?”

“As a matter of fact, I have—”

His eyes light up with recollection, his words halting to show for it. And then, he starts to laugh.

“Uhh, what’s so funny?” Applejack queries.

“Oh Gods, I’m sorry,” Zakurai replies, a few errant laughs escaping before regains his composure. “It’s just... that Storm King of yours tried to attack Zebrat in the middle of that very Ceremony.”

Even Twilight was distracted from her nearly-complete reading upon hearing that, exclaiming in surprise with the other girls. Zelac tilts his head in confusion, but opts not to comment immediately.

“Oh.” Rainbow Dash was the first to clue into why that was funny, snickering to herself at the thought. “Oh jeez. You mean, the ceremony where all of you were together?”

“Ahh, you noticed that, eh?” Zakurai made no effort to hide his amusement, and by now the amusement was quickly becoming contagious. “Yes, I was officiating the transfer between Elder Zedillian and Prince Zalman then, along with my fellow Princes. Right as the transfer completed, his forces descended from the skies to attempt their assault. We thought that a fantastic opportunity to let the young Zalman prove his mettle in a real fight.”

“So how badly did they lose?” Applejack asked, her smile and tone heavily amused.

“Oh, I lost count of their airship casualties after the first two dozen or so. Zalman’s impressive grasp on the Well of the Stars was particularly destructive for their vessels. According to the citizens, the attack lasted all of seven minutes before he was forced to retreat.”

“Seven minutes?” Dash exclaimed, breaking out into laughter.

“We were content to let him flee in shame, but Prince Zabraxas was hellsbent on making him pay for the attack. He took nearly half of the Imperial Navy and a huge force of the Imperial Legion, and chased that Storm King out of Zebrica the entire way. He lost a great deal more of his airships that way, or so I am told.”

While Applejack and Rainbow Dash were laughing it up at the story of his crushing defeat, Rarity and Twilight were more concerned by the implications it made on exactly how effective Anonymous’s leadership was in comparison to the Storm King. But that was a subject they could explore later: right now, they didn’t want to ruin the good mood.

“Okay, I think I’m ready to do this now,” Twilight announced, rolling the scroll up in her magic. “I just need something to enchant that mister Zelac can wear.”

“Ah,” Zakurai piped up, reaching up to unclasp his neck ring. “Will this do, princess?”

Zelac gasped at the offered ring, which Twilight took in her magic right away once Zakurai set it down onto the table, looking it over thoroughly.

“Yes, that should work great! A-are you sure you want to give it up for this?”

“I have plenty of them back home, princess,” he laughed. “I can live without that one. And besides,” he turned to Zelac and spoke something in Zebrikaans to him, something that caused him to let out an embarrassed laugh while rubbing the back of his head. “‘No child of the mountain should be without their stripes of gold,’” came Zakurai’s answer to the unasked question. “A little saying we have in Zebrica. One of many I hope to tell you of over the coming week.”

Exhaling, Twilight set the ring down and began preparing the spell in earnest. The first step was a spell circle, drawn out in some chalk around the ring. Next was a magic circle surrounding the first one, full of information on Ponish: the alphabet, subjects, objects, verbs, sentence structure, and more. After that was another circle, this time with the same details on Zebrikaans. Of course, a zebra needed to fill that out, to which Zelac eagerly offered aid, with him and Zakurai taking a few minutes to complete that portion with their mouthwriting. With that aspect taken care of, Twilight initiated the spell proper. The golden ring floated above the ground as the symbols glowed a bright purple and began to rise off the ground to match the ring’s altitude. Each circle began to spin around the ring, their rotational axes offset in a way that reminded Twilight of an orrery. They spun at such a speed that they became spheres of symbols, the outermost one compressing downwards into the next one and continuing until there was only a single sphere of symbols. Only then did the symbols funnel out into a thread, snaking across the surface of the golden ring. This continued until the sphere disappeared, leaving only an incredibly dense mass of symbols on the ring, still swimming across it’s surface at high speeds. But slowly, their speed reduced in lockstep with the intensity of the purple glow of magic. Until at last, the symbols came to a stop, faintly flashing purple one last time before the glow faded completely. The completed ring came to rest on the ground at last, it’s surface covered with the now-engraved symbols.

For a moment, nopony and nozebra said anything, still recovering from the lightshow that was the complete spell. Zakurai was the one who broke the silence, clearing his throat slightly.

“Well, that was, er...” He seemed at a loss for words for a moment. “I-I’ll admit, I hadn’t expected your Equestrian magic to be so... marvellous to behold.”

Twilight offered only a polite giggle in response, content to take the compliment.

“Out of curiosity,” Zakurai continued, “Were I to touch that again, would we need to repeat that entire ceremony?”

“Nope!” Twilight chirped. “You’d absorb all of the charge out of it, yes, so it would stop working. But this spell was designed by archivists to preserve a language forever. All it needs is a little recharge, and it’ll last for an entire day!”

“Truly? Twilight, that sounds nothing short of miraculous.”

“Well, it was one of Starswirl’s spells,” she couldn’t help but note with a hint of her own pride. The reference was lost on Zakurai, but everypony in attendance knew where this could go if left unchecked.

Fortunately, Zelac piped up, eager to try it out. After being given the go-ahead, he bounded over and closed it around his neck without delay, though he had to take it off once to place it above the metal collar he already wore, owing to the ring fitting much more snugly. Rarity stepped up to charge the ring, and though she managed quite well, it took more magic than she expected. The symbols on the ring glowed blue to match the colour of Rarity’s magic.

When Zelac spoke, the effect was strange: at first, his Zebrikaans-speaking voice came out at it’s usual volume, but it’s volume lowered a second later, to be replaced with a simulacrum of Rarity’s own voice, as if acting like a separate pony doing the translation.

(“So how will I know if it’s working—?” Ah! Aaaaaaaaah!”) His exclamation was surprised at first, but soon became one of unmatched excitement.

“Can you hear us?” Twilight asked.

The symbols glowed when she spoke, and the same delay elapsed before she could faintly hear that same voice, speaking Zebrikaans in Zelac’s ear.

(“I can! I-I can! OhmygoshohmygoshIcanunderstandyou!”)

Hearing Rarity’s voice behaving in such an excited way drew several laughs out of Rainbow Dash. “Oh wow, that’s weird!”

Rarity huffs at her in response, but remained pleased with the overall outcome.

“‘Least it works,” said Applejack, as pleased as everypony else was.

(“Holygodsthisissoexciting! I-I don’t even know where to start!”)

“Fortunately, I do,” Zakurai interjected, giving Zelac a proud little smile. “How do you feel about helping me with my announcement, Zelac?”

I should have known that Zakurai’s accursed announcement would come sooner rather than later. And here I was, genuinely expecting Zelac to have delayed things with his insatiable curiosity. Paired with the curiosity and excitement of those pony mares, I honestly expected another half an hour of additional time to waste.

Regardless, here I stand on the deck of the ship as it sails at high speeds through the Equestrian skies, summoned by the honourguards and lined up with the other prisoners. With the notable exception of Zelac. Accompanying the honourguards were their Equestrian equivalents; I can infer from their presence that those ponies would be present as well, or at least that royal hybrid. Which made Zelac’s absence all the more puzzling.

They didn’t... kill him, did they? Or worse, weave some vile sorcery upon him? I hope not. I didn’t particularly care about him, make no mistake, but losing both such a useful tool and my nightly squeeze in such an inglorious way would be... disappointing. And more than a little frightening.

Finally, the procession of royalty arrives in earnest. Both Princes assemble before us, Zabraxas in particular looking both faintly annoyed and far more tired than Zakurai did. As I expected, with them are the six pony mares, and—

Zelac...?! What in the hells is he doing with all of them?

As he approaches, I catch sight of a new accessory he's wearing: a golden ring around his neck. A glowing blue golden ring.

He’s been exposed to sorcery.

I can’t help but tense up at this development, swallowing dry to show for it. What in all the accursed hells is that thing he’s wearing?! And why does he look overjoyed to be wearing it? This colt should be shitting himself in fear over this! What is he thinking?! Is he thinking? Has the damned thing tampered with his mind, too? Gods above, do I even want to know what vile sorcery has been woven into that thing?

Around me, the other prisoners were getting tense as well. The brief flash of uneasy surprise across Zabraxas’s face tells me even he didn’t know about this development. None had much of an opportunity to let it get to them before Zakurai began speaking.

“Good afternoon, everyzebra,” he began in earnest, walking up to take the proverbial centre stage. “I know things are proceeding a bit faster than we all anticipated, but let me assure you that all is well in hoof. We are now on our way back to Zebrica, and we carry with us the great evil that threatened the ponies of Equestria: the fearsome creature known only as Anonymous.”

Anonymous? It’s name is Anonymous? And here I thought the name ‘Twilight Sparkle’ was ridiculous.

As I expected, the other prisoners don’t react all too well, and Zelac is no exception. He is calmed somewhat by a comforting hoof on his withers from that purple mare, however.

“Worry not: he has been sealed in stone and is under our constant vigil. He will not escape from his confinement, and make no mistake: he will be dealt with severely upon our return to Zebrica. In truth, however, the news of this evil is not why I have called you here today.” He gestures to the ponies behind him. “I called you all to formally introduce the heroes who defeated this great evil: the bearers of the Elements of Harmony.”

The prisoners look on with fear, mixed with intrigue and a dash of awe. I opted for just the intrigue.

Zakurai briefly introduces the six mares, calling them up one at a time. First was the purple hybrid: that Princess Twilight Sparkle he had mentioned in his last speech. I don’t know what, exactly, an ‘Element of Harmony’ is, but apparently she held the Element of Magic. And her official title was perhaps the most baffling thing I’ve ever heard in my life: she is the Princess of Friendship. That was just... beyond parody. Title aside, I couldn’t help but notice that the six-pointed star image on her flank was very similar to the star on that bizarre crystal tree palace I’d seen on the journey towards Canterlot. Given the apparent significance of these marks of theirs, it seems very likely, then, that she would be that palace’s owner.

Next was one Applejack, the Element of Honesty. Her appearance and mannerisms screamed farm work, and she certainly had the physique to show for it. Her eyes were very discerning, however, and she looked to have no tolerance of lies or fakery in any capacity, which certainly fit with her chosen Element. I’d need to be careful around this mare.

Fortunately, I don’t believe I would need to be nearly as careful around the aptly named Rainbow Dash, the Element of Loyalty. Her ego and predilection towards showboating were glaringly obvious, even before she was introduced. But shortly after the introduction, she showed off a little by flying at incredibly high speeds around the airship, telling me that her ego was, at the very least, not simple vanity: she actually possessed the skill to back it up. Somehow, I doubted it was enough skill to fully justify it.

I was somewhat at a loss for words, describing the contrast between the boisterous Rainbow Dash and the extremely shy yellow mare that came up next: Fluttershy, the Element of Kindness. She was, in a word, beautiful. Easily comparable to that pink hybrid royal mare from before, except this mare wasn’t even trying to look nice. And her natural good looks were only enhanced by her timidity, naturally evoking the male instinct to care for her. Of course, I didn’t make it this far by blindly following my instincts, so I could appreciate her looks without being utterly taken by them. And besides, if she’s part of a group of national heroes, let alone one responsible for turning the gods-damned alien into a statue, then she clearly isn’t as demure as she was presenting here.

Briefly glancing at the other prisoners, I can see the mare practically turning green with envy, all while the imperial stallion looked positively lovestruck. The mare became envious to the point of quietly grinding her teeth when the next pony approached, said pony also attracting the gaze of that plains stallion.

And that pony, the second of the sorcerer mares, was very attractive in her own right: a mix of natural beauty and elegance and a great deal of effort invested in maintaining her looks. Rarity was her name, bearing the Element of Generosity. Just like the blue hybrid mare—who I was starting to believe wasn’t on board at all—this Rarity had far more to her than just the outward appearance of a vapid, high-maintenance mare: there was an incredible degree of social intelligence shimmering in her eyes as she scanned our ranks. If she was a social climber, I had no doubt that she was a damn good one. Small wonder that plains mare looked so envious: she was clearly outskilled and threatened by her.

Hah. Mares threatened by more attractive and more talented mares. Some things truly are a universal constant.

Our eyes lock during her scan, her gaze lingering on me for longer. She’s reading me, no doubt about it, and is undoubtedly intrigued by what she sees. The very last thing I need to deal with right now. I signal with my own gaze that I’m not interested, to which she simply gives a faint, playful smile before her eyes move on. I hadn’t deterred her at all.

Wonderful. I’d need to be especially careful around her, beyond just the simple reality that she’s an accursed sorcerer.

Finally, there was the Element of Laughter, one Pinkie Pie. At the exact second Zakurai finished introducing her, she darted forward with a massive smile and got into our faces, speaking rapid-fire in her language and beyond herself with excitement and glee. I keep my jaw clenched when she darts up to me, my gaze telling her in no uncertain terms to stay back. This time, she seemed more receptive, though it only lessened the intensity of her excited jabbering, rather than stopping it.

“To ponykind,” Zakurai resumes once the mares are back in line with each other, “Friendship is of paramount importance to them, a critical pillar of their culture and society. Every one of the Element Bearers wants nothing more than to cement a fruitful new friendship between our people, that we all might benefit from this point forwards. But there is only so much that I can do, Prince though I may be; I will require your aid to further develop our people’s nascent friendship.”

“Your conduct here will affect your time spent in service to us,” Zabraxas clarified, saying the quiet part out loud. “You will give them the respect they are due.”

“Yes,” Zakurai continued, hiding his mild displeasure at his fellow’s interruption well. “The Element Bearers all wish to make your acquaintance, to learn from and befriend each of you. And to facilitate this, one of your number has volunteered to serve as the bridge between us.”

I should have known that Zelac’s naïvete would make him volunteer for this nonsense. He stepped forward on Zakurai’s urging, visibly nervous yet committed to making a good impression.

“H-hello, everyzebra,” he began. “I’ve, ah, volunteered to help the, er, E-Element Bearers. H-help them make friends with us all.”

That pink mare offers some cheers from behind. The moment she spoke, I saw the symbols on his neck ring glow more intensely, and I could hear the faintest of words being spoken near Zelac, as if somezebra were speaking into his ear. I recognized the language as the pony language: Ponish, I think Zakurai called it.

The understanding of what that neck ring’s sorcery is doing clicks into place: it’s translating between the two languages!

“Prince Z-Zakurai’s the only zebra here who knows Ponish. But, well, l-like he said, he’s just one zebra, a-and can’t always be there to translate for our guests. So I, ah, v-volunteered to translate for him!”

He shows off the neck ring with a small flourish of pride, going on to confirm that it does, indeed, translate between Zebrikaans and Ponish. I hate to admit it, but that is... incredibly useful. Not nearly useful enough to make me want to go anywhere near the accursed thing, but I suppose if you aren’t scared of sorcery, like Zelac apparently wasn’t, then it would be an easy thing to embrace. He then goes on to say that the purple Princess made the thing with her magic and Zakurai’s neck ring; additional confirmation that she was, as I initially surmised, a powerful sorcerer.

Still, this is going to be troublesome. Zelac will undoubtedly want to introduce me to his new... friends, as soon as he can. But I can’t afford to be near the sorcery in that ring. If I touch it...

I swallow dry as the memory of that one very unfortunate abada intrudes into my mind. I quickly crush the errant thought. Fortunately for me, the other prisoners are wary of magic as well, so I can easily cloak my real reasons for avoiding sorcery as being the result a deeply traumatic experience with abadas. I don’t think he or any of those ponies will be in a position to refuse accommodating me once I let slip that particular half-lie.

“His offer extends to both honourguard and royal guard alike,” Zakurai clarifies after taking centre stage again, pausing to elaborate in Ponish for said latter guards. “I realize that many of you are anxious around sorcery, and for good reason. Magic, however, is also an integral part of Equestrian society, so this is an anxiety we must overcome if our newfound relation with Equestria is to flourish.” He pauses to smile. “I have high expectations for you all. I hope you will do your utmost to welcome our new friends.”

Finally, he waves across the crowd with his hoof. “That is all. You are dismissed.”

About damned time. The honourguards, credit where it’s due, stay composed, though I suppose that’s more a function of their sworn duties than their actual feelings on the matter. The other prisoners waste no time in taking off, the mare especially moving as if a fire had been lit under her tail. I opt to follow her lead in an attempt to sneak out without further incident, the other stallions held up only by rubbernecking at their newfound respective pony crushes.

Idiots.

Fortunately, my escape went without incident. I exhale slightly as I re-enter my room, taking a moment to gather my thoughts, lies, and cover stories. I’d need them to get through this—

knock-knock-knock

“Z-Zobachi? Sir?” came Zelac’s voice. “I ah, I-I know you’re probably really nervous about all this, b-but I’d really like for you to meet these ponies! They’re really nice!”

Shit.

Enter Sandman

“S-sir?” he continues, unhindered by my silence. “Please, if you’re worried about something, I—”

“I am not interested in meeting your new... friends,” I state bluntly.

“B-but why? Th-they’re really, really nice!”

“I’m sure they are.”

“Is...” He pauses for a moment, and I hear his hoof clop against the door. “I-is this about their magic, sir?”

Exhaling through my nose, I open the door by a sliver and peer through. Sure enough, there was Zelac, who by some small mercy was all on his own. My eyes flick down to the sorcerous neck ring he wore in regular intervals.

“It is,” I confirm.

“Oh,” he murmurs, self-consciously touching said ring. “I... I guess I should’ve seen that coming...”

“Zelac, how in the eighteen hells are you so comfortable around all that sorcery?” I hiss. “Nevermind the actual sorcerers!”

He gives me a sour look. “They’re not abadas, Zobachi.”

“A sorcerer is a sorcerer, no matter the species. And I’ve had quite enough of dealing with sorcerers.”

His brow rises in surprise. “W-wait, what do you mean, ‘dealing’ with sorcerers?” Good, there’s my window to insert the half-false sob story.

“Don’t mistake my fears of magic as me blindly believing in foal’s tales, Zelac,” I begin. “I’ve survived a fight with an abada before. One that very badly wanted me dead.”

“Yuh-y-you what?!”

“I’m sorry, what portion of that statement was difficult to understand?”

“N-n-nothing! I-it’s just... you actually fought one?”

“To the death,” I clarify, causing him to retract with a whimper. “I don’t know why he wanted to kill me. He was a whitehorn, so I assume he was pursuing vengeance for another Imperial raid on his people’s homes. Frankly, the reason is irrelevant: all that matters is that I was his target.” My glare hardens. “Have you seen abadan sorcery up close, Zelac? Do you know what even one stray bolt of sorcerous power is capable of doing to solid stone? One well-placed strike would have killed me outright. A less well-placed one would have crippled me for life. It was like fighting a much weaker Prince, Zelac. There’s no escaping something like that. It was life or death. Me or him.”

With the infusion of truth in my tall tale, he doesn’t detect my lie like he did my lie about my dreams. He looks on with horror at my story, covering his mouth with both hooves with his pupils little more than pinpricks, all while shivering slightly.

In reality, however? It was the complete opposite. That kindly young abadan stallion was just curious, curious enough to override his common sense, and that curiosity cost him his life. It was there that I learned that my wretched, accursed Gift could absorb more than just dragonfire. And unlike Cinder and her parents, he was nowhere near as trustworthy: certainly not enough to keep the secret of a renegade Gifted. If I had let him escape, who knows who he would have told? I...

I had to kill that poor colt. It was either him or me, and not only in the immediate sense. I don’t like to kill, not if it can be avoided. It’s messy, attracts far too much attention, and with very rare exceptions, is always an inferior solution to a problem. At least with most of the other times I’ve been forced to kill, it’s almost always been overzealous Zhaaneph inquisitors: with them, I could always easily justify it to myself as a matter of survival, of self-defence. But that abada? There was no self-defence. It was cold-blooded murder. The simple arithmetic of risk management dictated that he had to die. And I made it so.

It was one of the only murders that truly hung over my head. In a way, I suppose it still haunts me. Even after Cinder helped me dispose of the body, even after talking about it with her and her parents, it hasn't quite...

I shove the thought of Cinder from my head before the thought of her brings unintended emotions into my expression and countenance. I re-harden my glare.

“So you’ll forgive me if I don’t exactly have the best experiences with sorcery and it’s horned practitioners, Zelac.”

“I didn’t know,” he whimpered.

“I didn’t tell,” I huffed. “It’s not exactly a pleasant bedtime story.”

With watery eyes, he lightly pushes on the door, attempting to open it. My own hoof remained planted on the door, opposing his force with ease and denying him entrance.

“M-may I come in?”

“You may not.” His ears fold back. “Not without leaving the sorcery at the door.”

For a moment, he just stands there, gazing at me with clear sadness. Until, with resignation in his eyes, he unclasps the sorcerous neck ring, setting it down on the ground. It’s only then that I allow him to push the door open. Somewhat expectedly, he throws his forelegs around my neck for a particularly tight hug. A pointless gesture, but it makes the giver feel like they’re helping, so there’s little reason to deny him.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffled.

I say nothing, choosing instead to displace my bad memories of the abada with more pressing concerns. Namely, how I will interact with those ponies. Sooner or later, they’ll try to talk to me, as much as I wish they wouldn’t. How I would go about steering that interaction was therefore of paramount importance, and if that Rarity mare was involved, I’d need to be exceedingly careful; socialites were adept at learning things they shouldn’t. Things like one of their prisoners secretly possessing this accursed Gift.

“S-sir?”

“You still want me to speak to them, don’t you?”

He nods against my neck. “It doesn’t have to be right now. But...”

“I’m certain I will have to at some point. I just...” I exhale with genuine exhaustion. “I need time. To adjust, and to rest.”

“Oh.” He squeezes me tighter. “R-right, I-I’m sorry. I nearly forgot about this morning. A-a lot’s happened so fast...”

That’s a gross understatement.

“Zobachi?”

“Yes?”

“I... might not make it back tonight. Is that fine?”

A single dry chuckle leaves me. “Planning on sleeping over, are we?”

“They need me to translate! B-besides, I just, er, have a bad habit of, ah...”

“Tiring yourself out in all the excitement?” Another chuckle, this time more salacious. “My, my, I didn’t take you for such a swinger.”

“Siiir,” he whines, “It’s not like that!”

I laugh, and he huffs. It’s a small source of humour, but one sorely needed.

“I’m only interested in you, anyways,” he murmurs.

“Well, aren’t we the romantic?” I chortle.

He lets out an annoyed hum before pulling away, his cheeks puffed out in said annoyance. But his expression falls to a more saddened one soon after, his now free hoof tapping against the floor as his eyes flick between me and said floor.

“Y-you will give them a chance, yes?”

I sigh. “Yes, I’ll give them a chance. Just not now.”

He gives me a cute little smile. “Thank you, sir.”

With that, he takes his leave. I see him reach down for his neck ring as the door closes behind him, and hear it click back into place a moment later. But before his hoofsteps can get too far away, I hear the door to the room next to us open, and the voice of that imperial stallion calling out to him, asking to come with him. He’s soon joined by the plains stallion, picking up on his cohort’s very obvious angle: a chance to shoot his shot with their pony crushes. They all leave together, suddenly friendly with the one stallion who can facilitate communication with the ponies.

Zelac’s a smart stallion: I’m sure he knows they’re being insincere. I can’t help but grin at the jealous, annoyed whine the mare made, providing the perfect note to climb onto my bed. I sit upright in a meditative pose, doing my best to plan my next moves through the lingering haze of exhaustion and the ever-present presence of that alien.

This was going to be a long day. And I’ve a horrible feeling the dream will be even longer.

“Wow,” Twilight murmured, eyes lingering at the dozen or so honourguards lined up before her. “They all want a translator, too?”

“They do,” Zakurai admits beside her with some mild surprise. “Seems your creation left quite the impression.”

“It’s just... after what you told me about magic being so feared, I thought that...”

“Nozebra else would be interested?” he finishes for her. “To be honest, this showing is a surprise to me, too. But I have a hunch that supplying them all is out of the question for the moment, no?”

“It’s a pretty powerful spell,” she admits. “I could probably make one, maybe two more today. I mean, I could make more, but...”

“We need to be ready for any threats,” he finishes for her once again, eliciting a nod from the princess that he returns in turn. “Please, don’t feel pressured to produce those devices en masse, Twilight.”

“No, I’m just thinking that...” She rubs her chin in thought. “Maybe I could get the unicorn guards to help me.”

He hums in approval at the thought. “We could make a sort of collaborative exercise of it. Our two guard forces, working together to better understand one another?”

Twilight’s eyes light up with stars and a wide smile splits her face at the idea. “Yes! Ohmygosh, that’s a great idea!”

“Then why don’t we spend a little time planning this out?” Zakurai intones with a knowing smile. “I’m sure our respective guards would like to hear of this idea, too.”

Twilight takes off with an excited little neigh to find her guard leaders. Zakurai, in turn, orders his own honourguard leaders to meet with him, with some of them already present in the assembled group. Before long, the two sides have assembled in the Elements’ room, busying themselves with hashing out the details of this impromptu collaboration. Twilight sharing the spell details was a particularly lengthy and complex component of the process, but her guards did their best to understand, with some of the honourguards looking over with intrigue at the magic instruction, incomprehensible as it may be to them.

All the while, the other Elements got acquainted with the ship and it’s avian crew again. They also socialized a bit with the two extra zebra prisoners that had returned with Zelac, but it was fairly obvious that they were more interested in a specific pair of mares than the girls as a whole. The plains stallion in particular was rather pushy, but the object of his eye, Rarity, very easily let him down in such a way that he thought he still had a chance. The smarter imperial stallion, on the other hoof, was at least trying to be nice and understanding with Fluttershy, and even asked the others about the things she enjoyed. Ultimately, he too was let down, but he took it rather well, stating a willingness to make—and stay—friends instead, which was received much better.

The pair left after nearly an hour of talking, and the group returned to the Elements’ room to gawk at Twilight's ongoing collaborative exercise. Though their focus soon returned to Zelac when he let out a sad little sigh.

“Is something the matter?” Fluttershy asks, returning the gentle nuzzle he’d given him before.

Zelac reciprocates the nuzzle for a moment before answering. (“I just wish my, ah, friend was here. I really wanted him to meet you all.”)

“By ‘friend’, do ‘ya mean that big stallion y’all were with before?” Applejack inquired. When Zelac nodded, she pressed further: “What’s the big feller’s name, anyhow?”

(“Oh, i-it’s Zobachi.”) He rubs the back of his head. (“I, er, asked him to come, b-but he said no. N-not yet, anyways.”)

“What was that guy’s deal, anyways?” Rainbow asks aloud. “He looked pretty spooked when we first met.”

“And he really didn’t like surprises,” Pinkie mopes.

(“H-he’s just, er, really private. A-and he, well, really doesn’t like magic. Like, even less than most zebras.”)

“Whatever for?” Rarity presses.

(“Bad experience,”) he summarizes, taking on a noticeably sad demeanour as he said it. (“I-I’d rather not talk about it.”)

“Well that’s a right shame,” Applejack sighed.

(“I did convince him to talk tomorrow, though!”) Zelac exclaimed. (“Just, you know, maybe not all at once? H-he’s kind of overwhelmed by everything, you know?”)

“I wonder about that,” Rarity hums.

“What’s up, Rares?” Dash interjects.

“I can’t explain it yet, but there’s something strange about that zebra,” she muses aloud. “He seems awfully cagey, more than I’d expect, given what I’ve seen so far. And he’s sharp, too: very sharp.”

(“I-I mean, that’s not too surprising, i-is it?”) Zelac murmurs, once again rubbing the back of his head. (“I mean, he is a super-talented criminal.”)

“Talented how, now?” Applejack asked with narrowed eyes.

(“W-well, when we were first, er, brought along,”)—he self-consciously touched the metal collar as he spoke—(“P-P-Prince Zabraxas personally, a-ah, read all our criminal records out loud.”)

“Well that’s right strange,” Applejack chortled. “But what of it?”

(“Er, Z-Zobachi’s record is, w-well...”) He swallows dry. (“Long. Really long. Like, h-he’s been bad since he was a colt, a-and it shows.”)

Rarity smirked a bit at the subtly impressed—even somewhat smitten—tone Zelac took as he said that.

“And... he’s been nice to you anyways?” Rainbow asks point-blank.

Rarity’s smirk grew at Zelac’s beaming smile and rapid nod. More specifically, at the subtle tells that gave away his attraction to the zebra in question.

“Huh.” Rainbow blinks. “Weird. Didn’t strike me as the ‘nice’ type.”

Zelac’s slightly embarrassed nervous laugh all but confirmed Rarity’s suspicion that he was deeply attracted to that Zobachi stallion, if not outright in love with him. She returned her smirk to a more normal smile, content to just sit on that information for the time being.

“So what are y’all in for, anyhow?” came Applejack’s next question.

(“M-me? I, er, w-well...”) There was the nervous laugh again, only much more nervous than before, and accompanied by some sweating. (“I-I, ah, h-hahah, th-that’s kind of a...”) His eyes flick around for a moment, his pupils constricted. Until finally, he swallows dry and all but bleats the word: (“Adultery!”)

The moment the words leave him, he falls to the floor and covers his head, shivering and fearful of judgment from his new friends. In so doing, he failed to notice their looks of confusion.

“I’m sorry, adultery?” Rarity exclaims, speaking on everypony’s behalf. “That’s a crime in Zebrica?”

Zelac’s shivering stops, and he pokes an eye out from the cover of his own forelegs to look at her. (“I-it isn’t in Equestria?”)

“Oh, don’t mistake me, darling: it’s hardly a good thing.” Zelac’s ears fold back again after their brief rise from his question. “But it’s not a crime in and of itself.”

“So yer tellin’ me that y’all can get thrown in prison fer sleepin’ around?” Applejack blurts in disbelief.

(“I-I, er...”) He swallows dry again. (“W-w-well yes, buh-b-but technically I wasn’t the one who—”)

Heavy hooffalls with accompanying metallic jingles rang out in the hallway, heralding the arrival of Prince Zabraxas. Zelac had already dropped into a low, shaky bow towards the door before it even opened, and when it did, the visibly exhausted stallion strode into the room, headed straight for Prince Zakurai. Said counterpart was in the process of overseeing his zebras helping with the initial circle-writing phase of Twilight’s translation spell, with the mare’s own guards also aiding in that process. Zabraxas’s mere arrival interrupted Zakurai, and he wasted no time in speaking to him, his tonality making it clear that he was not here for conversation.

“What’s he saying?” Rainbow wonders, looking over towards Zelac.

(“Uhm, th-that he wants P-Prince Zakurai to take over his shift.”) He shuffles somewhat nervously as Zakurai leads Zabraxas off to the side for a moment. (“Er, I-I’m not really sure what they’re taking shifts on.”)

“They’re watching Anonymous,” Rarity intones, displeasure thick in her voice.

Zelac emits a tiny, fearful “eep” at the name. (“Y-y-you mean th-that ‘great evil’?”)

“The very same.”

(“Ohhnononono,”) he murmurs, clapping his hooves to his ears. (“Idon’twanttoknow!”)

“It’s okay,” Fluttershy soothes with another small nuzzle. “As long as we’re here, you’ll be safe.”

Zelac only replies with a small whimper, content to just be comforted by her. A short while later, the duo of Princes come back, this time with Zabraxas eyeing a fresh mug of coffee in his hoof with suspicion. Only at Zakurai’s urging does he begin to drink from it. It’s obvious he doesn’t care for the taste, but there’s no denying the immediate effect it has on his energy levels.

Zakurai goes over to Twilight to more formally take his leave for the time being. As he makes for the door, he stops by the other Elements, letting them know he’ll be in the cargo bay if they need him for anything. And with that, he departs for his post. Zabraxas sits over on a nearby table, nursing his drink while warily watching the spell circle being drawn by both sets of guards, opting to withhold his commentary for now.

For a while, nopony quite knew what to do, the Prince’s presence doing a wonderful job of sucking the conversational energy out of the room. That is, until Pinkie opted to bounce on over towards the Prince completely unprompted, plopping herself into the seat next to him. This caused him to slowly turn his mildly curious and greatly skeptical gaze towards the excitable pink mare in question, who flashed him a big, expectant smile all the while.

“What’cha doooin’?” she opens.

His only response was a slow blink.

“Uhh, Pinkie?” Applejack spoke up, the others following soon after she began walking up towards her. “Ah don’t think the big feller wants ta’ be bothered right now.”

Zabraxas’s ear pivots towards Zelac, picking up on the live translation. Still, he says nothing.

“But we’ve only ever talked to Zaku-raku!” Pinkie half-whined. “I want to hear what Zabby-wabby has to say, too!”

Zelac paled slightly at Pinkie’s casual nicknaming of the zebras he and others considered all but outright demigods. But once again, the Prince in question remains stone-faced. But doesn’t remain silent.

(“I am a warrior. Not a diplomat.”) His words are as flat and monotonous as ever. (“You will not enjoy speaking with me.”)

“But you will speak to us?” Pinkie punctuated her question with a few sparkly-eyed blinks.

The only sign of his annoyance was a light snort. (“If you wish.”)

Pinkie let out a little squeak of joy, followed by pulling a very nervous Zelac close by for his passive translation assistance. He and the other girls find their own seats at the table, but it’s obvious to all but Pinkie that this particular encounter was already proving to be incredibly awkward.

“Sooo, uhh,” Rainbow opened, “Zakurai told us you chased the Storm King and his goons out of Zebrica. I wanna hear more about that!”

(“You may not hear more.”)

Rainbow blinks, taken aback at how blunt he was. “Oh. Uh. Why not?”

(“You do not need to know.”)

Her nose wrinkles in a mixture of surprise, annoyance, and aggravation.

“Oookay then,” she mutters.

“Well,” Rarity attempted next, “I admit, I am very fascinated by your homeland, your highness. Perhaps you could tell us a bit more about it?”

(“I will not.”)

Rarity did her best to hide her offence. “Erm, why is that?”

(“You do not need to know,”) he repeats.

“Is there anything we do need ta’ know?” Applejack deadpanned, not shy about hiding her feelings.

(“The layout of this vessel. Entrances and exits. Chokepoints. Defensible positions. The capabilities of the soldiers on board. Plans and contingencies for attacks on the vessel. The identities of groups and individuals most likely to mount an assault on this vessel. Disaster plans in the event that the statue in storage has been stolen.”) A brief pause. (“Those are a portion of the things all of us need to know.”)

“‘Ya know,” she continues, “You can take this whole thing deadly serious and still make nice with everypony at the same time.”

(“A waste of time and effort. The security of this ‘Anonymous’ creature is of sole and paramount importance. All other matters are tertiary.”)

“All due respect, yer’ highness, they ain’t ‘tertiary’ in any respect. An’ frankly, that was mighty rude of ‘ya.”

(“I do not care. I warned you in advance that you would not enjoy speaking with me. If you are not going to discuss the security of the statue, we have nothing further to discuss. It is as simple as that.”)

“Then you misunderstood my question,” Rarity cuts in before Applejack could say more. “I was not asking about Zebrica as a sightseeing tourist, your majesty: I was asking as an ally, one that wishes to be prepared for that leg of the journey.”

(“You are mistaken on multiple fronts. We are not allies; we are temporary cooperators. I do not care from which place you ask about Zebrica: the location in which the statue will be sealed is a state secret of paramount importance. As such, my determination remains: you do not need to know.”)

Rarity takes a moment to pinch her snout, gently exhaling to try and ameliorate her frustration with the Prince. “Darling, cooperators we may be, that still requires cooperation from all parties.”

(“You are cooperating by providing the statue and agreeing to help secure it. That is a sufficient level of cooperation. You are attempting to overstep your bounds by conflating cooperation with fraternization. I am uninterested.”)

“Oh my gosh, we’re just trying to be friendly, dude!” Rainbow finally exclaims, her hooves slamming on the tabletop. “Hay, we’re even trying to make friends with you!”

(“I am uninterested.”)

“Why?!”

(“It is unnecessary. Friendship provides no benefit to the execution of my duties.”)

“How can you say that?”

Everypony and everyzebra at the table turned to the source of those hurt, softly spoken words: Twilight Sparkle. A matching hurt look crossed her face as she looked up at Zabraxas.

“Friendship is what makes us strong,” she continued. “It’s why we were able to defeat Anonymous in the first place. It holds all of us together, bridges our divides, resolves our differences. You saw it with your own eyes when you visited us. How can you just dismiss friendship out of hoof like that, knowing what it can do?”

Neither a teary-eyed Zelac nor the other Elements had time to let her words sink in before Zabraxas began speaking again.

(“Our societies are not comparable, and you assume too much. You assume I attribute friendship to your land’s peace and high social cohesion. I do not. I attribute it to a fortunate and plentiful homeland; to your powerful racial abilities of strength, flight, and sorcery; to a strong military presence enforcing peace and cohesion within and beyond your land; to the intrinsic herd mentality within all equine beings. The most important factor I have observed is the presence of an immortal caste of demigod rulers, combining all of the racial traits of ponykind into one being: the ultimate foundation upon which your cohesion may be built. Unto my observations, your ‘friendship’ is a simple consequence of these symbiotic factors.”)

Twilight shakes her head sadly. “You’ve got it all backwards. Those came because of the magic of friendship. Our land was frozen and inhospitable before friendship restored it. The earth ponies, pegasi, and unicorns were all weak when separated, and friendship made them strong together. Our military is called the EUP, because it’s only strong with all three races working together in harmony. The magic of friendship, of harmony, goes much further than just herd mentality: it’s the reason that alicorns even exist in the first place.”

(“I repeat: our societies are not comparable. Our species are comparable only on the genus level, and incomparable on all other levels.”)

She smiles. “I don’t believe that, your majesty. I won’t believe that.”

(“You may believe what you will. It will not alter the course of reality.”) The smallest of frowns creases his still-neutral expression as he gets to his hooves, taking his lukewarm coffee with him. (“Further discussion is pointless. I shall be in my quarters. Inform me immediately if danger befalls the vessel.”)

And with that, the Prince took his leave, leaving more than just a sour impression behind.

“Of all the hard-headed...” Applejack muttered, visibly frustrated.

“I want to be frustrated, but...” Rarity exhales slightly. “I’m just sad.”

“What the hay are you sad about?!” Rainbow exclaims.

“All work and no play,” Pinkie murmurs, her mane partially deflated. “That’s what I’m sad about.”

Rarity hums her agreement. “I don’t think that stallion has ever known a life outside of his role as Prince. A life where everything important to him must be tied to his work. Where everything else is just... discarded.”

“I know we can get through to him,” Twilight spoke up. “I just don’t know if we can get through to him before our journey is over.”

Rainbow Dash emits a tired sigh. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up too high. I’ve worked with flyers like that guy before. Getting them to do anything that isn’t work is like pulling teeth.”

“Eyup,” Applejack agrees. “Got a fair few cousins, aunts, n’ uncles like that, too. In mah experience? They only turn around when life gives ‘em a square buck to the jaw. They ain’t got a choice but to change then.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” Fluttershy whimpers.

“I don't want it to come to that,” Twilight concurs. “But there’s no way I’ll give up. I can’t.”

Light sniffling breaks up the girls’ discussion, the source being a particularly watery-eyed Zelac doing his best to keep from outright crying.

“Oh dear,” Fluttershy murmurs, patting him on the withers. “Are you okay?”

(“I’m sorry, it's just...”) Fluttershy emitted a small ‘eep’ when he wrapped her in a surprise hug. (“You’re the nicest people I’ve ever met.”)

A few knowing smiles were shared between the girls before they all descended upon their translator, making him the centre of a group hug. The dam burst, and he began weeping openly, a big, happy smile plastered onto his face as he did his best to hug everypony back.

(“I wish I could do more than just translate and hug,”) he whimpered.

“We’re very thankful for all you’ve done so far,” Twilight assuaged.

“Besides,” Rainbow chuckled. “If you really want more to do, I’m sure we can think of something.”

The group hug broke up, and Twilight went straight back to coaching the guards on the final steps of the spell. Working together, the alicorn’s magical burden was eased considerably with the other unicorns working together, resulting in the creation of yet another translator in the form of yet another neck ring offered by one of the honourguards. All of said honourguards looked on at the spell’s completion with varying degrees of awe and fear, but none questioned the results when Twilight added charge to the device and the honourguard the ring belonged to began to converse in both languages, this time translating in a simulacrum of Twilight’s voice to match the purple glow of the symbols on the ring. Disbanding for the moment, the group promised to meet tomorrow to create yet another translator together, the spirits of the guards and honourguards noticeably higher as they left.

(“I er, hope I’m not being replaced,”) Zelac half-jokingly murmured, rubbing the back of his head again.

“Not now, not later, not ever!” Pinkie exclaimed, quick on the draw with a side hug.

Zelac laughed a little in response. As a group, him and the girls cleaned things up in the Elements’ room, and then left to the mess hall for a much needed last meal of the day. The tribulations of the day had taken a surprising amount of time; they hadn’t realized that the sun was already setting by the time they started eating.

(“I-if, ah, you don’t mind my asking,”) Zelac piped up from his soup, (“I-I know we're heading back to Zebrica, b-but, uh, where are we going next?”)

“Oh, tomorrow, you mean?” Twilight continued at Zelac's nod. “You remember that Storm King we mentioned before?” She flashed him a reassuring smile upon seeing his fearful nod. “Don’t worry, he was defeated.”

(“Ohthankthegods,”) he exhaled.

“Well, when he was defeated, both our army and the hippogriffs teamed up to defeat the rest of his army. We pushed them out of their base on Storm Island, and now we’re using it as our base, to help keep us all safe from his soldiers if they ever try to attack us again.”

(“Oh wow,”) he murmurs. (“Er, h-hippogriffs? W-was that what that one other creature at your big castle was?”)

“That was Queen Novo, and yes, she is a hippogriff,” she answered. “We’re getting more help from them once we get there, to make extra sure that Anonymous doesn’t escape.”

He swallowed dry at the mere mention of his name. (“Y-you’ve got the Princes helping, P-Princess. No way he’ll escape.”)

“Ah hope so, pardner,” Applejack chimed in. “Last thing we wanna do is rein that varmint back in.”

Things fell into relative silence after that as everyone resumed eating. Twilight, however, couldn’t help but worry about how their arrival at Storm Island would go. Not because of the aid they would receive; that she had total confidence in. No, she was worried about how one pony in particular was going to react to their expedition.

A pony that, even after her travels, even after Cadance had helped her reconnect with her past, had confined herself to the island ever since the defeat of Anonymous, throwing herself at the task of hunting down the Storm Remnant forces.

After finishing their supper, the group retreated to their room once again, this time to begin settling in for the night. With the exception of Twilight, who had to keep watch over the statue once Zakurai’s shift was over. And as half the girls plus Zelac fell fast asleep, a gentle series of knocks on the door rang out, and Twilight opened it to find the Prince in question waiting on the other side, his exhaustion now quite apparent.

“My turn?” Twilight asked.

“Your turn,” he echoes. As she waved goodbye to her wakeful friends, however, he continued to speak. “A few things before you begin, however.”

“Of course, what is it?”

“I don’t know how well it would work for you, but our alchemists can provide potions to stave off the effects of sleep deprivation. I’m told it’s much stronger than that miraculous coffee of yours, but the nature of our Gift makes it... ineffective on us. I’ve ordered the honourguards to provide it for you on request, if you wish to try it.”

“Oh, thank you! I’ll definitely keep it in mind. Anything else?”

“Actually, I was hoping to speak on this next subject with your friends, if you don’t mind?”

Nodding, Twilight stepped back into the room with Zakurai following suit, the girls rousing their cohorts awake. They tried to leave Zelac alone, but he wound up waking anyways, shooting upright upon realizing his Prince was in attendance. Zakurai asked the alchemist to have a private moment with the Element bearers, and Zelac was quick to comply, rushing out of the room.

“In normal circumstances, we can wake as we please from our dreams, like any other. However, things are nowhere near as simple when a hostile dreamer is present.” The atmosphere tensed immediately, and the girls all listened in intently. “When that happens, awakening only becomes possible when one side or another is either defeated, or makes an escape. And I’ve never seen a successful escape in all my years, much less attempted one. That said, I'm very curious about the possibility of you ladies remedying this situation.”

“What do ‘ya need?” Applejack asked instantly. “Jus’ say the word!”

“For now, I’d like one of you to watch over us while we sleep. When our dream turns to a nightmare—and you’ll know when it does—I’d like for you all to try anything you can to rouse us. Nozebra has been able to do it, but I’d like to know if anypony can pull it off instead.”

“I’m game!” Rainbow clopped her front hooves together. “We’ll have you guys out of that tailhole’s nightmare in no time!”

“I hope so,” Zakurai hums. “Again, I must thank you all for your help so far.”

“Thank you for yours!” Pinkie retorts.

With that, Zakurai left with Rainbow Dash, while Twilight left for the cargo bay. The remaining girls all went back to settling in for the night, but not before informing Zelac that he could come back, which he did quickly and promptly. He didn’t ask about what happened, in no small part because he didn’t want to know. But the apprehension of whatever unknown topic they discussed ate at him for a moment in spite of that, keeping him awake for longer than he would have liked. He was the last equine in the room to fall asleep as a result.

But sleep he did, fitfully unaware of the somnolent war that was about to take place.

My hooves struggle to remain firmly planted on the floor of the metal trawler ship as it tosses and turns in the churning, turbulent waters of the dark ocean. Freezing cold rain falls in sheets all around, and the howling wind only accelerates their impact, said wind carrying the scent of sea salt and ozone. The sky above is completely black, the only light in this terrifying storm being the frequent flashes of lightning. And, of course, the yellow sun that hovered above the enclosed steering wheel I was taking shelter in, enabling me to at least see the ship and some of the surrounding ocean. I could hear the non-stop hissing of steam as the rain collided with the sun, vaporizing the water instantaneously while the wind continuously forbade any trail of such steam to exist for longer than a split second.

It takes me a moment to realize the significance of this ship: it’s the same trawler I’d attempted to flee Farasi in with Cinder.

Cinder...

I feel the sun flaring up in time with my anger, as if experiencing it with me. But rather than embrace it’s tempting expression of power, I instead order it to reduce it’s luminosity and size, as I was used to doing by this point. It floated back into the cabin with me once it was small enough, shrinking until it could once again fit between my hooves with ease. For now, I let it float by my side, using it’s light to observe the uncertain and characteristically dream-like instrumentation before me. I could navigate well enough with just the lightning, and this way I could quickly conceal the light for when the other Princes arrive. It wouldn’t be long now.

If ships on an ocean is to be our venue for this dream, I am beyond nervous about what form the alien’s vessel will take.

The pressure of the Princes washes across my body, and the yellow sun hides behind my neck in response. I keep my eyes peeled for their suns, and I’m not kept waiting for long: I can see them far off in the distance, shining high and bright above a pair of Imperial Navy warships that sailed in formation side-by-side, too large to be toppled by the ongoing storm. Their distance should be enough for me to avoid their detection, but unfortunately, we were headed directly for one another. I’d need to turn this ship around immediately.

But try as I might, the ship will simply not steer effectively; the storm was too violent, and my vessel too small to properly navigate even this hellish storm. I was only able to turn at a slight angle: enough to pass them by, but not enough to evade their light.

For the first time, I begin hoping that the alien would arrive to deal with them.

I was not kept waiting for long. I felt the all-too-familiar shockwave of alien pressure, visibly distorting the Princes’ suns. But my relief turned to ash when the suns, instead of shrinking away, ballooned in size to meet the challenge, intensifying their light. Greatswords of power flew from the blue sun’s core and hovered at the ready, while the red sun spat forth several massive fireballs that flew in a slow orbit around it, also ready to react.

This is bad. My ship will enter their light radius in only a minute at this rate! They’ll spot me for sure! Gods, where is that damned alien already?! Of all the times I want him to be here, he just has to drag his feet, doesn’t he?!

I make ready to duck and take cover, already clasping the yellow sun to my chest with one hoof to hide it. Second after agonizing second passes as I look out towards the approaching light. Until finally, at the last stretch, I hit the deck. The light of the suns begins to wash over the ship, but I keep on taking cover. It’s only a matter of time now. Best case scenario, they destroy the ship and miss me completely. Which leaves me to drown in the ocean.

But then something happens that I did not expect. Abruptly, the loud CLANG of metal reverberates through the ship, and the entire vessel begins to tilt sharply to one side, as if it were being beached. I cry out in surprise and grunt in pain as I slide down the floor and fall against the enclosure wall, the ship coming to a complete and abrupt stop.

A loud fog horn sounds, and the green light of the alien sun makes itself known all around me, it’s intensity drowning out all other lights. Risking a glance, I peer out from my compromised hiding place to see what unholy vessel the alien has opted to conjure up.

Whatever this vessel was, it was enormous: easily at least two hundred metres long, and at least sixty metres wide. It’s size wasn’t the unexpected part, however: the deck was. It was unbelievably, inexplicably flat, almost as if trying to emulate a strip of land. Surmising it’s purpose is of a low priority, however: I immediately turn around to find the alien and his sun. In the centre of the vessel, offset to the ship’s right side, there was a huge, building-sized command deck, easily at least five or six stories tall. The alien sun hung directly over it, it’s connecting threads spread out evenly from all the windows on the topmost storey.

No sooner did I drink the sight in than the sun split itself apart once again, each shard charging with power and unleashing massive projectiles of unstable energy towards the Princes. An all-out naval brawl ensued, with energy blades cutting into the ship’s deck and great fireballs blowing craters into it, forcing me to take cover again. But none of the impacts seemed to faze the vessel: it continued to sail forth, straight and true. The same could not be said of the Princes’ ships: the alien struck them with ruthless precision, the projectiles creating columns of explosive steam when they punched through their hulls. Despite the Princes’ best efforts, their vessels were torn to shreds, and their suns were struck with the green projectiles next, battering them into the ocean. There, they boiled the water with incredible force, but were ultimately shoved down into the depths by the unrelenting tide of destruction.

Before long, even the glow of their light from under the dark waters ceased, and the pressure of their presence faded out. Only then did the projectiles cease fire.

“Girls!” Rainbow yells, slamming the door to their room open. “It’s happening!”

Zelac bolts upright with a yelp, but all the girls simply bolted upright. Instantly, they sprang into action, jumping out of their beds and rushing out of the door, heading straight for the Princes’ room while Rainbow Dash peels off to fetch Twilight next. Zelac looks on at the door they left through for several seconds before he finally reacts, shakily rushing out of the room next and catching the tail end of their entrance into the Princes’ room.

Unsurprisingly, the honourguards deny him entrance. He didn’t have time to turn back, however, on account of Twilight and Rainbow Dash rushing over. Twilight quickly allows him inside due to his status as their translator, leaving the zebra to gape at the sight inside the room, frozen in shock: the girls were all crowded around the two Princes, thrashing and grunting fitfully in their sleep.

And they were trying their hardest to wake them.

“Dang it, wake up!” Applejack exclaimed, fruitlessly shaking the sleeping Zakurai.

“Jeez, how hard do these guys sleep?!” Rainbow adds, repeating the same shaking for Zabraxas. “Come on, get your flanks up!”

It was no use. Despite several minutes worth of attempts at this point, both Princes continued to toss, turn, thrash, and grunt in their sleep, trapped in the throes of their intense shared nightmare. The girls had all tried multiple things to wake them by this point, many times as a group, but no matter what they tried, they simply would not wake up. Even giving them small portions of magic didn’t help.

All the attending honourguards could do was look on helplessly, the gathered ponies now experiencing the same helplessness they did in this situation.

“Dang it!” Applejack turned towards Zelac next, shaking his withers. “Ain’t there somethin’ y’all can do?!”

(“N-no,”) he admits, still shaken by the entire display. (“I-I don’t know what to do.”)

“What about you guys?” Rainbow asks of the honourguards, to which they only offer a sad shake of their heads. “You’ve gotta be kidding! We can’t just leave them like this!”

The girls went back to debating what to do between each other, interspersed with small bouts of shaking the Princes even more, all while the honourguards looked on at their sovereigns, powerless to help. None of them noticed how Zelac’s countenance had slowly shifted as he continued to look on at the thrashing Princes. With a window to think now available to him, his brow began to furrow in concentration as his alchemical and medical training began to kick in. He’s dealt with intense nightmares before, and knew of solutions to try. But his treatment planning was arrested as his recollection of past patients slowed, zeroing into the memory of one zebra in particular.

A very recent patient of his, one that displayed very similar symptoms to this.

And then, at once, both Princes cried out simultaneously, giving one last involuntary thrash as they shot wide awake, breaking into fits of violent coughing this time. In an instant, everypony and everyzebra was upon them. Everyzebra but Zelac.

“Oh thank goodness you’re awake!” Twilight exclaimed, more to Zakurai than his cohort.

“Dude, are you all right?!” Rainbow demanded of Zakurai.

The Prince in question needed another moment to finish coughing and wheezing before he could speak properly. “So that’s what drowning feels like,” he remarks aloud.

“Drowning?!” Twilight cried. “What happened? What did he do to you two?”

“He dealt us another sound defeat,” he admitted, sitting upright with some assistance. “Our arena was a great, storm-gripped ocean, each of us on a ship. He destroyed ours with ease, and he plunged us deep into the water, left us to drown. We tried to fight, but it wasn’t even a contest.”

“Monster,” Rarity bitterly remarks under her breath.

“Couldn’t agree more, miss Rarity.” Zakurai groans again, clutching his head. “I don’t suppose I could trouble you all for some more of that ‘coffee’, could I?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Pinkie hollers, throwing up a salute and darting off.

Zelac remained off to the side, remaining temporarily forgotten for the moment. Were he to become the centre of somepony’s attention now, they could be forgiven for assuming his newfound expression of utter shock was due to witnessing the Princes being reduced to such a state. His mouth was covered with both hooves to stifle his whimpers, while his pupils shrank to pinpricks and his body shivered from a mixture of raw dread and that aforementioned shock.

If only they knew what connection the nervous alchemist had just made. What hypothesis now dominated the forefront of his mind.

Fortunately for him, nopony and nozebra paid him any mind, especially not when Pinkie returned with two fresh mugs of coffee, suspended in the protruding curls of her mane. Zakurai took his and wasted no time in thanking her and drinking, while the still-silent Zabraxas begrudgingly accepted his. Pinkie squinted at the Prince’s grimace as he drank, then fished around in her mane and procured milk and sugar to add to it, stirring them into the drink before hoofing it back to Zabraxas. This time, he was far more appreciative of the drink, even going so far as to utter a single word of thanks. A tiny gesture, but one Pinkie was over the moon about.

“This can’t go on,” Twilight pleaded to Zakurai more than she observed.

“It can’t,” he agrees. “This is far beyond the limits of our training. I...” He pauses to wipe his brow. “We’ll go mad if we hide from him, and we’ll go mad if we fight him. I just... don’t have a solution for this, Princess.”

“We’ll find one,” Rarity vowed, garnering cheers of agreement from her friends.

“Anything you can find will be of tremendous aid.” He pauses for a moment, his features eventually falling into a tired smile. “I... find myself quite admiring this camaraderie of yours, I have to admit.”

“Hey,” Rainbow exclaims, “What are friends for?”

“Friends...” Zakurai mulled the word over for a moment, as if appreciating it properly for the first time. “Hah. Not a familiar feeling for me. But... pleasant, all the same.”

Zakurai found himself in the middle of one of the girls’ patented group hugs a moment later. He couldn’t help the dumb little smile on his face, in spite of all that had just happened. Interrupting it, however, was the light thump of a body falling to the ground. All eyes turned to the source: the forgotten Zelac, toppled over onto his side, passed out on the floor.

“Oh, my,” Fluttershy softly exclaimed, breaking off to see if he was all right.

“How that colt survived in a prison, I’ll never know,” Rarity hums.

“At least he’ll be sleeping well,” Zakurai remarks.

An eerie quiet descends, in spite of the ongoing storm. I swallow dry as the reality of my situation sets in: the Princes were gone now, yes, but now I had him to deal with. My deep regret of ever hoping for his arrival comes to a head when one of the shards descends down towards my beached ship, it’s power licking along the hull and leaving scorch marks as it slowly hovers around, as if searching for something. Searching for me.

The yellow sun pulses within my hooves, begging to be let free. Begging to protect me. But I wait. Not to deny it, but to find the right opportunity to take the shard by surprise. I will not go down without a fight, hopeless as that fight may be.

The exact moment the shard’s power rips the roof off the enclosure is the moment I let the sun loose. In an instant, it balloons to it’s initial size, and unleashes a concentrated cone of flaming projectiles, arcing straight towards the shard. The shard flinches back at the sudden impacts, though they don’t appear to have done any real damage. I didn’t care. I gave the sun leave to act as it saw fit, and it chose to press the attack, spewing a constant stream of arcing fire projectiles.

I had fully expected it to destroy me for this. To send me back to reality in intractable pain, just like it did the Princes. But instead, the shard simply hovered out of range, both it and it’s cousins refusing to retaliate. Confused, I order the sun to cease fire, opting instead to stare up at them to ascertain what, exactly, their game here was. Slowly, another shard lowers towards the base of the ship’s building-like command deck, a thread of fire-lightning snaking down to... open the door? And not only that, but create a pathway of energy for me to follow?

I look on with my mouth agape, lost for words as the alien sun reunifies back into it’s fracturing whole without further incident. It’s pressure has changed significantly, almost as if being... conciliatory? There couldn’t have been a clearer sign: the alien—this Anonymous—he wasn’t trying to kill me. He was trying to meet me. But... why? Why meet with me?

I look back up at the yellow sun. I could reach out to it now. I could escape. Gods above, I seriously considered it. But would he allow me to escape? And if so, for how long? It was clear that he chose to protect me from the Princes here. If I leave now, is there any guarantee he would keep doing so? Keep trying to make contact with me? If I snub my nose at him now, he may well begin attacking me, rather than being, at best, neutral.

I swallow dry again, more nervous than I’ve been before. The yellow sun stays close, almost as if riding on my back. I truly, sincerely did not know what to expect. But now, experience kicked in: experience dealing with powerful criminals. I did not know what his game was, but running now would be a tremendous show of disrespect. For now, it was in my best interest to, at the very least, ascertain what his intentions were.

I’m just as likely to be destroyed no matter what I choose.

With that, I begin to walk forward, towards the opened door. The rainwater steams and evaporates off my coat courtesy of the yellow sun once I step indoors, it’s warmth and protection never more welcome. Inside, beyond several blurry and nondescript hallways leading nowhere, was a stairwell leading up. I can’t help but notice that everything inside is sized and proportioned for tall bipeds: bipeds like him.

With nowhere else to go, I begin the climb. Before long, I clear the last flight of stairs, finding the door to the alien already opened and waiting. Carefully, I begin walking towards it, scanning my surroundings for threats as I go. And as I enter, I see the alien in the flesh again. He stood at the far end of the room, his connecting threads spread out along the floor like cables. His hand rested on a nearby railing as he looked out through the window at the environment outside, the rain continuously beating against the glass all the while.

Steeling my nerves, I begin slowly walking towards him, careful to avoid stepping on his connections. Halfway into my approach, he slowly turns around to face me, hand still on the railing. The movement stops me in my tracks.

His smile is at once friendly, intrigued, and absolutely chilling.

Freak On a Leash

Moments after the alien smiles at me, he begins to speak. The language is once again unintelligible, but this time I recognize the intended language as Ponish. That did not, however, help me in any way to understand what he was saying, beyond recognizing his tone as welcoming, curious, and more than a little bit down-to-business.

I tell him that I cannot understand what he’s saying. Only, the words that leave my throat are just as unintelligible as his: I only know that I spoke Zebrikaans. Confused, I try to repeat myself, but to no avail. No matter how often I try, I cannot understand my own words. Aggravation begins seeping into my confusion as I continue trying to say anything by this point. Even the alphabet comes out as an incomprehensible mess!

I hear the alien snickering, the only thing that both reminded me of his presence and of the severity of this situation. I can feel my ears burn in embarrassment at this failure to perform simple communication. But the look on his face suggests an understanding of my plight, mixed in with his amusement at my expense. What does he know that I don’t?

I won’t lie: I’m afraid of how he’ll answer that question.

Collecting himself, he starts to gesture. First, he cups a hand to one ear and begins speaking, obviously telling me to listen. Until he further gestures to not listen, which only serves to confuse me. How am I supposed to understand him without listening? He then grasps one of his threads, pulls it taut, and plucks it like a string instrument. It makes no sound at all. Yet he gestures for me to continue listening anyways, continuing to pluck the thread at regular intervals.

I don’t hear a damned thing, and as he continues strumming and smiling, I begin suspecting that he is playing some kind of a joke on me. Gods, I can already feel a headache coming on: it’s bad enough that this... thing could kill me with only a single thought! Now he’s decided to start toying with me? Again I try to listen for what the hells he’s trying to do, but he pauses to point at his ear and shake his head, indicating for me not to listen again. His amused, insufferable smile never once faded all the while.

Now I’m starting to get angry. I have half a mind to just reach for the damned sun and leave. Gods, I hate people like this! It’s enough to make my headache much worse, to the point of throbbing in tune with his strumming. I swear, if he weren’t so...

Wait. In tune?

Pausing, I pay more attention to the details of my headache. It’s far more... focused than I realized, centred in the back of my head, closer to my neck. With each throb, very much in sync to the alien’s strumming, it forks out in two directions, each reaching towards my ears, getting closer each time.

I can feel the yellow sun’s tendrils wrapping around my barrel, as if trying to brace me for something. That something happens a moment later when the throbbing reaches my ears proper.

A dull, unnatural pop reverberates from my ears, felt more than heard, ricocheting through my mind. All sound cuts off, leaving only a dull ringing that is at once both normal and unfamiliar. All the while, I feel an intense sense of vertigo crash through me, causing my vision to become blurry and my legs to go weak. Weak enough that without the sun holding me up, I would almost certainly have collapsed to the floor.

Thinking became difficult through the onslaught of familiar and unfamiliar sensation, but I had enough presence of mind to wonder what the hells he’s done to me. Only to realize, to my muted shock, that whatever just happened wasn’t inflicted upon me at all. Somehow, on a deep-seated and primal level, I knew that this was something intrinsic to my very being. All he had done was to tease it out, make me aware of it’s existence. Whatever ‘it’ was.

My faculties and control returned surprisingly quickly. The sun’s tendrils released me when it realized I could stand under my own power again, and my vision corrected as my mind cleared. I became able to hear once again, but... something was different about it, something I could not fully understand.

My understanding would come in another massive wave when the alien spoke to me again.

I reel, physically and mentally, as raw, unfamiliar sensation slams into my very being through my now altered ears, reverberating between my heart and mind. I hear his words, as unintelligible as always, through my ears. But I feel... I feel...

Now you understand. Correct?

My breath catches. That wasn’t what I was feeling at all. Once more, I speak up, demanding to know what’s going on—

What is going on?

The meaning of my own words feeds back into me through my ears, once more reverberating between heart and mind. More clear and unambiguous than I could ever have consciously intended, let alone would be capable of expressing with words.

In that moment, I understood what was going on. My own words remained unintelligible, as did his. But we were speaking more than just our native tongues now. We were speaking at a level above language itself: directly communicating the underlying meaning and intention that language was constructed to express in the very first place. Expressed in perfect, unambiguous clarity.

He and the Princes had always been speaking this way, I realized. And I had been deaf to the raw meaning the entire time. Remembering their first interaction, I realize I had misread Zabraxas’s reaction: he had always understood Anonymous, and had lashed out at him with his typical righteous anger. Dimly, deeper in my memories, I also recall the reason why I’d never spoken in my dreams, not since I was a teenager: I could never understand what I was saying. As true then as it was a few moments before now.

He repeated himself. Do you understand me now?

Acknowledgement. Already, I realize that what this manner of... ‘speaking’ has in direct, unambiguous clarity, it utterly lacks in personality, emotion, and the very concept of things like ‘turn of phrase’; it’s only the intact tonality of his unintelligible words that allows me to ascribe equine emotions to the raw intent. If machines could communicate, it may very well be just like this. I suppose I should be grateful that my internal monologue remains unchanged.

Jubilation! He further compensates for that lack of emotion with gestures, clapping his hands together in said jubilation. Glad to meet you at last. He tilts his head slightly, gesturing to me with an open hand. Who are you?

My eyes narrow. You first.

He laughs. Concession! He bends forward in a mock bow, smiling widely, acting far more carefree and juvenile than I expected a supposed ‘great evil’ to act. I’ll admit, it was... unnerving. He tells me his name: Anonymous. For the first time, his audible words were perfectly clear, the phrase ‘Anonymous’ in Ponish coming through. Along with it came the underlying meaning of his name; Anonymous: unnamed, unidentified, unknown. He further introduces himself. Commander. Sovereign. Villain. Unapologetically evil. Proud of it all. He flashes me a fresh smile. Your turn.

Strange. I’ve almost never had to explain what my own name means before: most zebras just never care enough to ask. And I doubt the old mare at the orphanage gave it much thought when she named me, either. Still, I utter it aloud. Zobachi: a prayer to the gods. Supposedly, it’s an old name from the Mountain Enclave’s language. I wouldn’t know: finding an Enclave member outside of the Alchemist Peaks is basically impossible, and I can’t fault them for staying there. I further clarify: Criminal. Prisoner. Only as much detail as necessary.

He laughs again. Nice to meet you. I’m not surprised that he reacted positively to my criminality. Is that why you always hide?

What do you want? I was in no mood for any of this.

He holds his hands up in a supplicating gesture, still smiling. Calm down. Reassurance. I just want to talk.

I just want to leave. He snorts a laugh out at my retort. Why have you not killed me yet?

His head tilts. Confusion. Why would I? You have done nothing to me. Not here. And not in reality.

Reminder. I attacked you moments ago.

Again, he laughs, waving it off. Forgiveness. Reflex. Not intentional. His eyes narrow, playful yet with an undercurrent of a threat. Should I kill you?

Negative. Fearful. The yellow sun flares up a bit, ever protective. He just laughs again.

No reason to kill you. He shrugs. Happy to help against them. The Princes. Villains should stick together.

I want to be left alone.

You do not get what you want. Not from them. Not from me.

Gods, I hate that smug smile of his.

Back on topic. I wanted to meet you. I do not like how his smile just became a knowing one. Wanted to know why you avoid them. The Princes.

Refusal to answer. Gods only knows what he’ll do with that information. I wouldn’t put it past him to blackmail me into complying with whatever insane schemes he is no doubt concocting.

Again, he laughs. Already know the reason. Want to hear you say it.

He snaps his fingers. Everything is enveloped in a flash of green light. When it fades, I find myself standing in an empty, soundless black void, the massive ship in the storm now only a memory. Alarmed, I whip my head around to see where he had gone, the yellow sun flaring in reflex.

The only feature in the void was the alien’s statue, standing a few metres directly behind where I had started. But unlike it’s visually inert counterpart in reality, this one had an aura of menacing green light radiating from it, and strange repeating purple symbols in a language I don’t recognize float idly around it. A crack on his leg, one I initially assumed was an injury of some kind when I saw the statue from afar, was profusely bleeding with green power, tendrils of fire-lightning escaping the fissure and wrapping around the statue.

And then, the alien himself stepped out from behind his own statue, his green sun rising up above and linked not only to himself, but to the statue’s crack as well.

I cannot perceive reality normally. He raps his knuckles against his own statue’s chest. How can I? But I can still perceive a version of it.

He gestures with his hand off to the side, and tendrils of his power leap out from the crack, launching towards where he had directed. There was no mistaking what they were touching: I had never seen them represented as floating veins and arteries like this before, but the power that comprised those vessels could only belong to the Princes. Their postures and movements suggested they were in a great deal of pain or discomfort. Obviously, that was thanks to their utter annihilation in this very dream, but it was likely not helped by what the tendrils of power were doing to them. For lack of a better term, they were... molesting them. And he was doing it on purpose, just to make them as uncomfortable as he could.

But near to the Princes was something else: a small yet bright star of purple light. There was no body associated with it, but I recognized what it represented almost immediately: Twilight Sparkle. I didn’t intend to say that: it just came out. The alien—Anonymous—laughs in response.

You know her?

Only by name. Do not want to know more. It wasn’t hard to piece together what he was getting at here, and I turn back towards him with a stern glare. Simple deduction. You can sense them at all times.

Confirmation. He smiles widely and gestures again, off to a different side. I didn’t need to guess what was there, but the odd tug I feel from the yellow sun confirms it before my eyes do: it’s another equine-shaped arrangement of yellow veins and arteries, lying as if asleep. Because it was. It was me. His tendrils were all over my body, too, only they had paused their fondling, opting instead to simply remain in contact.

I snort in annoyance. What is the point of showing me this?

Obvious that you are hiding. In the dream. In reality. Curious about the reason.

Repeated refusal to explain. Will not be coerced into your schemes.

His brow quirks. Even if we can help each other?

My eyes narrow. Know how your kind work. You will kill me once I cease to be useful.

His eyes narrow as well, but in amusement. You know little about me. He shrugs. Obvious stalemate. Cannot convince you. Not yet.

Not ever.

He grins. Never say never. Simple request. Hear out my offer. Decide commitment later.

I scoff. Condition of offer is obvious. You want freedom.

Partial agreement. Ultimate goal is freedom. Ancillary goals also of great value. I do not like that mischievous twinkle in his eye. Potential reciprocal benefits of ancillary goals.

You are trapped in stone. You cannot benefit me.

He just laughs again, more of an amused, imposing chuckle this time, as if mocking how little I knew. He walks towards my body in the distance, his hand dragging along his tendrils of power as he goes. Cautiously, I follow at a few metres’ distance, watching him like a hawk for any nonsense he might pull on my body.

As if I’d even be able to stop him.

Once he was at the very detailed arrangement of yellow blood vessels, he gingerly took hold of one of his connections to my real body, drumming his fingers along it as he waited for me to come closer.

You hide from the Princes here. They will recognize you in reality if they see you here. And will kill you if they catch you. Correct?

Shit. Shit, shit shit! That’s exactly what I didn’t want him to find out!

Your expression is your answer. His smile was an even blend of smug and sympathetic. Quite the predicament you are in.

My jaw works, trying to voice some kind of counter, failing each time. What can I even say?

This is my proposition. He pulls the connection in his hand off of my body, creating a small shower of sparks where the link was broken. I can protect you. Keep them from finding you here.

I swallow dry. That... that would be an immense help. And he absolutely knows it. But I know what he would want for doing this. Will not free you in exchange. I can’t. Forget my unwillingness to see this thing being free to walk Equus: there’s no way in any of the eighteen hells I could even get close to where his statue is kept.

He pulls more of his connections off of my body, chuckling again as he goes, never once looking away from me. Not requesting freedom. In the end, only a single connection was left attached to me, and he gently stroked the cord of energy before walking around to face me directly, his fingers pressed together in front of him. Requesting information.

Oh sweet merciful gods above, I have such a horrible feeling about this.

I want details of my prison. Want you to tell me what you know. He gives a small, polite nod. Those are my terms.

I eye him with extreme suspicion. If I refuse?

His smile and tone becomes fully smug. You cannot. Hiding here drains you. I can see it. You will not last long without my help.

Cornered like a rat. He’s had my number from the very start. And I don’t have any leverage to fight back with. Gods above, I wanted to scream. In fact, I very well might when I wake up.

I am in such deep, inescapable shit here. I don’t have any access to darkdream tonic, and if this keeps up, I’ll be back to the sleep-deprived catatonia I was in during the trip to Nanga again. Only this time, there won’t be an enamoured Zelac to help me: there will only be a cavalcade of highly suspicious zebras and ponies. Ponies with sorcery that can reveal what I am immediately.

He’s right. I can’t refuse his help. It would be suicide. Being indebted to something like him is bad, yes. Incalculably so. But being dead? I can’t afford that. Cinder can’t afford that.

The sigh that comes out of my nose is more defeated and embittered than it is frustrated. You will demand more. Your kind always do.

He shrugs. Admission. Will want to discuss further deals. Will start with this one for now. The smile he wore next looked legitimately conciliatory. Have never wronged partners before. No intention to start now.

Heavy doubt.

He goes back to being amused. Belief not required. Ask Twilight Sparkle about my forces. About their loyalty. Discover for yourself what I am like. He extends his free hand. Obviously intending to shake hooves with me. Agreement?

Cautiously, gingerly, my hoof extends towards his hand. My nervousness was almost palpable now. Begrudging agreement. Our hooves finally shake.

His smile is surprisingly genuine. Excellent! I expected him to make me talk now. But instead, he releases me. Looking forward to next dream. Hope you have much to share. He then bids me farewell with a small wave, and simply walks past me and back over towards his statue.

I can’t help the feeling that I’ve made the first in a series of the worst mistakes of my entire life. Nor can I help the tremble in my limbs as I reach for the yellow sun at last, it’s flame all too happy to whisk me away. And yet, as my vision fills with the usual pattern of yellow, then white, I can’t deny the relative lack of exhaustion I feel.

“Uhm, mister Zelac?” Fluttershy continued to gently nudge at the unconscious zebra. “Please wake up.”

“Sheesh,” Rainbow Dash remarks. “When he’s out, he’s really out.”

“Ah’m almost jealous of that,” Applejack adds.

Finally, the zebra begins to stir, a half-whimper and half-groan leaving him as be begins to wake.

“Oh! Very good.” She gently strokes his neck as he wakes. “Gently now, mister Zelac.”

(“mmmmm...”) The soft hum and the smile that left him was all Fluttershy needed to see to know he was okay. His eyes began to open next, peaceful and serene, drifting over towards the mares seeing to him. (“H-hello...”)

“How’s our sleeping beauty doing?” Applejack joked.

(“Nice,”) he sighed. (“Though I thought I was—”)

Instantly, the zebra went rigid and his eyes bulged in recollection and fear. Fluttershy emitted a small ‘eep’ and fell back when Zelac bolted upright from his bed in the Elements’ room.

(“Princes!”) he blurts. (“The Princes! Are they all right? Are—”) His outburst came to an abrupt end upon seeing his carer on the floor, and he let out a small gasp at the sight. Preventing him from seeing to her, however, was Rainbow flying in front of him.

“Whoa, whoa, easy.”

(“I’m sorry! I...”) He swallowed dry, looking down at Fluttershy as Applejack helped her back up. (“I didn’t mean to—! A-are you okay?”)

“I’m okay,” she reassures. “It was just an accident.”

Zelac was unsatisfied with that answer, and pushed his way past Rainbow Dash to check her over and ask questions about any pain or other sensations. He could only ask so much, however, before she gently interrupted him, reassuring him that she was fine.

(“S-sorry,”) he sheepishly stated, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Don’t be.” The two shared a little nuzzle, one that soon turned into a small hug.

Applejack hummed. “You some kinda doctor or somethin’, sugarcube?”

He tensed slightly in spite of himself, prompting Fluttershy to nuzzle his neck to calm him back down. (“I-I, uhm... K-kind of?”)

“‘Kind of?’” Applejack deadpanned, eyebrow raised and all.

(“Yes, ‘kind of’,”) he reaffirms, rubbing the back of his neck. (“It’s, er... really complicated.”)

“Well Ah figured you were one, what with all that checkin’ and those questions ya’ were asking.”

(“H-hahah. Y-yes. Uhm...”) He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the inquiries. (“Er, wh-what happened? I mean, uh, b-back there w-with the Princes?”)

“Oh, you passed out,” Rainbow answered with a small shrug.

(“No, not that. I-I mean, the Princes. What h-happened to them?”)

For a moment, nopony answered, their expressions unsure as they looked to each other for any hints on how—or if—they should tell him about what happened.

Zelac sighed. (“It has to do with their Gift, doesn’t it?”)

“Nnnnnyyesss?” Rainbow intelligently offers.

(“I thought so. I-I’m not surprised you can’t tell me anything.”) Despite his understanding, there was still a trace of hurt in his voice. (“The Gift has always been the Empire’s most well-kept secret.”)

“Yer Princes were pretty clear about keepin’ their powers secret,” Applejack admits. “Sorry, sugarcube.”

Rainbow Dash rubbed her chin for a moment, lost in thought.

“Hey Zelac,” she begins. “Are you, like, a good doctor?”

“Rainbow...” Applejack warns.

“What? I’m just saying, maybe he’ll know something we don’t!”

(“H-has this been happening for long?”) Zelac asked, automatically slipping into his medical training, trying to ignore the knot in his stomach.

“Yes,” Fluttershy answers automatically, much to Applejack’s chagrin. “We’ve been trying to figure out how to help them, but nothing’s worked so far.”

They haven’t tried darkdream though, have they? Not like he has.

Zelac’s ears lowered at the intrusive thought, and he tried his best to not react any further to it.

(“Th-they’ve got really talented honourguard doctors and alchemists helping them already, though.”) He nervously bit his lip. (“I just, I-I don’t know what I could even do.”)

Their talents are a pale shadow compared to yours. Even after your exile.

Zelac shut his eyes for a moment, suppressing the flare of anger from the tail end of that intrusive thought.

“Are you sure you can’t think of something?” Fluttershy presses in her usual gentle fashion. “Even something small could be a big help.”

Zelac switched from biting his lip to biting his hoof, sweat beading across his forehead. His position was particularly precarious; he couldn’t just tell them that he knew the cure out of hoof! Prince Zakurai might allow it, but Prince Zabraxas would prolong his sentence for even mentioning the possibility of using a cure that’s illegal in the Empire. And that’s without them asking how he knew to use darkdream! How would he even answer that kind of question, without implicating...

Zobachi.

There laid the true source of his anxiety. The hypothesis he dearly wanted to deny wholesale. It just... couldn’t be true: it was ridiculous to even consider! There’s no way that Zobachi could be a rogue Prince! And yet, he couldn’t deny the striking similarity between the nightmares they shared: especially in how he couldn’t wake the stallion up, any more than the ponies could wake the Princes. Nevermind the lie he told to cover up the nightmare. Or how exhausted he looked after said nightmares, same as the Princes. And now that he thought back to when they first discussed darkdream, he couldn’t help but notice how interested he was in how the Princes, specifically, had banned the substance. He’d only made it because the ingredients were plentiful in the area: he didn’t think that there was more to the Princes’ ban than just the Empire over-regulating things!

These weren’t disparate coincidences: they were clearly part of a pattern, one that pointed to one incredibly serious outcome. He was torn between needing more evidence to confirm or deny his hypothesis beyond a shadow of a doubt, and just admitting the now glaringly obvious truth to himself. But that’s just it: if it was true? By the Well, if he was found out, it would mean certain death for him! Or worse! Zelac was all too aware of the rumours surrounding Deepscorn Hollow: there’s no way he wouldn’t know too, especially not if he was actively criminalizing the Zhaaneph lands! He must be as—!

“Equus to Zelac,” Rainbow called out, waving a hoof in front of his tightly shut eyes. “Anypony there?”

Zelac jumped at the interruption, temporarily shelving the swirling chaos of his inner thoughts. It’s only now that he realized just how odd he must have been acting to them just now. And while Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash looked on at him with concern, Applejack was suspicious. Zelac paled slightly upon seeing her: she had to know that he knew something. Element of Honesty, indeed.

“Zelac,” Applejack began, “You know more ‘bout this than yer’ lettin’ on, don’tcha?”

There it was. The query he didn’t want to hear. Much less answer.

“Mister Zelac?” Fluttershy asked next. “I-is that true?”

He averted his eyes, his ears flattening in a mixture of fear and shame.

“Hold on, girls,” Rainbow interjected, a note of sympathy in her voice. “Yeah, he obviously knows something. But there’s gotta be a reason he’s not saying anything, right?”

“Tah be frank, Ah don’t rightly care. Ah only care that he won’t say nothin’!”

“Won’t say anything?” Rainbow retorts. “Or can’t say anything?”

Applejack’s words died in her throat. With no immediate retort, she fell silent.

“You know what I think, Zelac?” Rainbow flew over to his sight line to meet his eyes. He didn’t have the heart to avert them again. “I think you do know what’s going on, you do know how to cure the Princes, and I definitely think you want to help. But something really serious is keeping you from answering. Serious enough that you’ll get into huge trouble if you talk about it. Right?”

Yes. She was exactly right. She saw right through him, and they both knew it. His eyes fell down, morosely staring at the floor, a leaden weight settling on his thoughts. Even Fluttershy’s prompt nuzzling didn’t elicit any reaction from him.

“Please, dude,” Rainbow pleads. “A lot is riding on us right now.”

He didn’t respond. Even as the silence dragged on for several uninterrupted seconds, he never once gave a physical reaction.

“If it’s a secret, I can totally keep it. We all can. And hay, if you need any help, we’ll be there to help, just like that. But please, just tell us what’s going on.”

What should he do? What could he do? Intellectually, he knew what the right thing to do would be: aid his new friends in any capacity, even if to his detriment, and turn Zobachi in. So, why? Why did the thought of turning him in sour his stomach? Why did it feel like doing so would be a betrayal to himself, one he could never forgive himself for?

You already know why. After everything you’ve been through, how could you not?

His expression hardened. No, he didn’t know, not with any certainty. And that had to change. He was in this mess far too deep to keep his head buried in the sand anymore. Right now, he needed to know more. He needed absolute confirmation of his hypothesis before he could come to terms with what he was feeling. And intellectually, he knew this was not the first time his absolute certainty on a diagnosis had been wrong, let alone had caused tragic consequences. He’d always resolved to never repeat such a mistake. Now was the time to make good on that promise. Here, when it mattered the most.

“Land’s sake,” Applejack huffed. “This is gettin’ us nowhere—”

(“I need the three of you to understand a few things first.”)

The girls’ attention was snapped to Zelac at the unusual steadiness of his voice, nevermind the even, almost professional tone he had taken. Their surprise only rose when his head did, revealing a serious expression they never expected to see on him. A silent entreaty to take his words as seriously as he was now carrying himself, one they couldn’t help but uphold. Despite the new, starkly contrasted tone he now took, his voice was still soft as he spoke, and his words still held the kind undertone they always had.

(“I’m a doctor first, and an alchemist second.”) He paused for a moment to suck a slightly pained breath through his nose. (“One that’s lost more than one patient to a bad diagnosis. I won’t, under any circumstances, prescribe a cure to anyzebra without knowing exactly what’s wrong with them. That’s especially true of a Prince, of all zebras.”)

“But you—!” Applejack’s attempt to argue was swiftly cut off by his stern, level, and professional gaze flicking her way.

(“Please don’t argue with me, miss Applejack. It’s not up for debate.”)

“The hay it ain’t!”

“Applejack!” Fluttershy chided. “If he says he won’t, he won’t!”

Mildly surprised at the outburst, Zelac looked over at the yellow pegasus in question. Something about the look in her eye told him that she was not only sympathetic about his reasoning, but empathetic, too. Curious...

(“Are you a doctor too, miss Fluttershy?”)

“A vet,” she corrects. “But I know what that’s like. L-losing patients.”

(“I’m sorry.”) The two shared a small nuzzle before he got back on track, addressing everypony again. (“I admit, I do know a lot more than I let on. And there’s a good reason for that: the things I know are not legal to know.”)

“Say what now?” Applejack deadpans.

“Uhhhh,” Rainbow began, “What kind of ‘not legal’ are we talking here? Like, ‘drug dealer’ not legal?”

(“‘Learned from an enemy state’ not legal,”) he corrects. (“Enemies that have... very different opinions on treatment.”)

“Wait, enemy state?” Rainbow exclaimed. “What the hay does that mean?”

(“Not for me to say.”) He shakes his head. (“Prince Zakurai should tell you about them. My point is that what I know is perfectly safe and effective. But not legal to practice in the Empire.”)

“Yer joking,” Applejack groaned.

“That’s not fair!” Fluttershy exclaimed in legitimate anger.

(“No, it isn’t.”) Zelac agreed, sighing through his nose. (“But that’s Imperial law.”)

“Welllll,” Rainbow hummed, her tone and newfound grin mischievous. “Technically, we’re not in Zebrica, right?”

Zelac simply tapped his collar in response.

“Oh. Right.” Rainbow deflated, shifting to frustration.

(“You could probably convince Prince Zakurai to agree, but we all know Prince Zabraxas won’t be flexible. If I help, I’ll serve an extra year in prison for illegal alchemy practice. As a minimum.”)

“Seriously?” Rainbow exclaims. “Even if it works?”

(“Even if it works.”)

“That’s so... stupid!” she yells.

(“So now you all know.”) He lets out a slow, saddened sigh. (“You were right, Rainbow Dash. It’s not that I don’t want to help, it’s that I can’t. And honestly? I’d be fine with the penalty for illegal alchemy. But learning a state secret, just to know how to help them? I don’t even want to know what penalties would be attached to that.”)

The girls look between one another, clearly conflicted on how to proceed. The help they might need was right there in front of them, but taking it would put Zelac in serious trouble. Part of them was starting to wish they’d never pushed him for answers: maybe they’d be better off not knowing. But the enormity of their task was more than enough to convince them that they needed his help. They just weren’t sure how to get it.

“We’ll hafta talk this over with Twilight fer a bit,” Applejack finally says. “As much as Ah hate that ya ain’t helpin... Ah get it.”

(“R-right.”) Now that he’d said his piece, his doctoral mannerisms faded away, replaced by his normal skittishness. (“I... I’m sorry. Really, I am.”)

“We’ll think of something,” Fluttershy reassures him, the mare’s voice and slightly trembling frame filled with righteous anger. He was very glad that he was the beneficiary of that anger, and not it’s subject.

“Hey, thanks for telling us, dude.” Rainbow’s brief nuzzle turned into a quick hug, one he was too slow to return. “We’ll figure something out. But we’ll let you know first.”

(“Th-thanks. Er, I-I...”) Zelac was starting to shiver a bit as the reality of his predicament began to sink in.

“Hey, why don’t you take it easy for a bit, try to relax?” Rainbow suggested, picking up on his growing distress. “We’re gonna be above deck for a bit, making sure the Storm Island trip goes nice and smooth. We can make do with Zakurai doing the translating for a while, so don’t think you’re letting us down, all right?”

He sniffled. (“A-all right.”)

“Ain’t gonna be long before we get there,” Applejack notes aloud, looking over at a wall clock. “We should get goin’.”

After saying their farewells—with plenty of parting hugs and nuzzles—the girls took off, leaving Zelac alone in their room. They were right: he did need to relax, and badly. But first, he had to make sure that Zobachi was okay, too: the memory of that horrible nightmare where his nose was bleeding was still fresh in his mind, and he dreaded seeing a repeat of that. He just had to remember to watch what he said, and keep pretending that his lie about their cause was true.

He still wasn’t sure he wanted to know what the true cause was.

Feeling the release for his neck ring in advance, he left for their shared room.

For the first time since running out of darkdream tonic, I wake without a headache. Unfortunately, a huge knot of apprehension in my stomach had taken it’s place. A light groan leaves my throat as I feel around the bed, only to find Zelac was not there. Seems he slept over with those ponies, after all. Wearing himself out from all the excitement, no doubt; not unlike an excitable schoolcolt after a field trip. I’m not sure if his presence would make things better or worse for me right now.

Speaking of presences, I can barely feel the alien’s anymore. It’s there, but... restrained. Feather-light. I have to actively focus to notice it. I suppose there was some validity to that show of his, after all. Still, to think that he’s actively watching me, the Princes, and that Equestrian Princess at all times...

Shivering at the thought, thankful that the Princes don’t have that kind of power, I pull myself from bed and make my way to the bathroom. At the mirror, I notice a small trail of now-dry blood had leaked out of my left nostril. It must have been during my sleep; maybe when I learned—realized, rather—that I could speak in my dream? If that’s the case, I’m glad Zelac wasn’t here to fuss over me. Though that doesn’t forestall the worries I have over what other physical effects might befall me next, nevermind their potential to give my secret away.

Indeed, worry is my chief emotion as I make use of the shower next, trying to fully appraise what unholy mess I’ve gotten myself into this time. From rotten luck at the prison, to a surprise airship voyage, to an entire race of equine sorcerers across the ocean, and now I’m making deals with a malevolent alien in my dreams? Gods, I must be going insane. What else would explain all of this?

And yet, this little ‘deal’ I’ve struck is likely going to be the only thing that keeps me alive for at least the next week. It hasn’t escaped my notice at all how... decent I felt after waking up. Not great, but decent. It wasn’t much rest, but it was rest: more than enough to banish that damnable headache.

“You just have to talk, Zobachi,” I attempt to reassure myself under my breath. “Just tell him about this ship. That’s all he wants.” I frown. “For now.”

I don’t even want to know what he’ll try to rope me into when I’ve finished telling him what he wants to know. And he’s clearly far too smart for me to pull the wool over his eyes. I...

I need to know more about him. If I’m going to be stuck with that alien in my dreams for the foreseeable future, then it behooves me to learn as much as I possibly can about him before I sleep again. I’ll treat this like I’m arranging a meeting or an interview with a powerful criminal leader: the more I know, the more I can protect myself. The more leverage I’ll have. The better I can predict his moves. It’s simply a matter of survival and self-preservation, nothing more.

Fortunately, there are some ponies who would know all about this creature. Unfortunately, there are some ponies who would know all about this creature.

With another heavy sigh—something I’ve been doing a lot lately, I can’t help but notice—I extricate myself from the shower and dry myself off, formulating my plan of attack. I’ll just find Zelac again, apologize a little if I must, and make it up to him by conversing with at least one of those ponies. From there, I’ll pull information on this Anonymous from them. They fought with him firsthoof, so they must know a great deal about him. So long as it’s not that Rarity I’m talking to, I should be able to learn quite a bit without too high a risk of giving away my Gift.

My Gift.

I smack myself upside the head for that thought, scowling at myself. It’s no gift; it’s a curse. Always has been. What I’d give to finally be rid of it. Cursing under my breath, I shove my old thoughts on it back into the dustbin of my teenage memories, where they may fester and rot in perpetuity once again.

I should focus, before those foolish ideas have another excuse to start emerging again.

With a small huff, I pace around the door, going over my thoughts on interacting with the ponies again. The valuable rest I’d gained was immensely helpful in that regard, already helping me to refine my plans, lies, and narratives: far better than when I had been sleep deprived. This time, however, I not only recall the lies I told Zelac in order to maintain narrative consistency: I also factor in how I’ll extract information from those ponies, too. These ponies value friendship above all else, at least if Zakurai’s little speech is to be believed, and it’s likely they’re already trying their best to befriend him. Therefore, the most obvious path to gaining information would be to falsify a friendship with them. It’s hardly the first time I’ve kept appearances up for my own benefit, even if those instances didn’t involve foreign heroes with a great deal of power, sorcerous or otherwise. And between that socialite Rarity and that apparent paragon of honesty Applejack, it may be difficult to conceal my facsimile of friendship. But then, concealing my accursed Gift is already enormously difficult, made harder with their presence. And having Zelac play translator was obviously going to limit how much I could get away with.

This would certainly prove to be a challenge, no matter how I approach this. I suppose I’ll have to see for myself if their preternatural heroic attributes translate to actual skill in detecting my deception. I’d best start with small lies to test the waters, and work my way up to the larger ones.

Exhaling through my nose, I reach for the door at last. Only to freeze mere centimetres from the handle as somezebra begins knocking on it.

“S-sir?” Ah, it’s just Zelac. “Are you awake?”

“Yes.”

“Can I come in, please? I-I really need to see you.”

Odd. There’s a strain to his voice, and I can tell from his tone that he’s afraid of something.

“Did something happen?” I press.

“Yes,” he admits. “Please, sir?”

Steeling myself, I open the door at last. Mercifully, Zelac was alone, but I don’t think I’ve seen him in such a state of exhaustion before, nevermind with that kind of fear in his eyes. Noticing his lack of a sorcerous ring, I motion for him to come in, and immediately after I do, he rushes indoors to embrace me as tight as he can, kicking the door closed as he goes.

“A-are you doing okay?” he immediately asks.

“Surprisingly, yes. Seems my... condition is letting up at last.”

“Oh thank goodness,” he murmured. “I missed you, Zobachi. So much.”

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” I reiterate, quite curious—and wary—about whatever set him off.

“I will. Just...” He pauses to sniffle and nuzzle deeper against my neck. “Hold me. Please.”

Evidently, whatever he saw had him quite shaken, which only makes me more nervous. Still, I see little point to denying his request, so I wrap one foreleg around his neck. The sigh he emits in response is shaky yet happy, and I can feel some of his tension melting away.

“Thank you,” he coos.

I say nothing further, allowing him a moment to decompress. Just as the silence gets long enough to prompt me to speak up, however, he preempts me:

“Everything was going well until really late last night,” he opens, his voice quiet and morose. “The ponies, they all...”—he pauses to take a breath—“They all rushed to the Princes. They were in pain: lots of pain.”

Gods, I hope so. Especially Zabraxas. I grin freely at the idea, knowing he can’t see it from his position.

“I-I don’t remember very much. It was, er, t-too much for me to handle. Next thing I knew, I was waking up in the ponies’ room again.” He nuzzles my neck again. “I never imagined a Prince could suffer like that. Er... wh-what do you think could be happening?”

“Who the hells knows?” I hum with thought, coming up with a decent yet truthful story. “Actually, now that I think about it, they’ve looked quite exhausted these last few days, haven’t they?”

I feel him tense. “D-do you know why?”

I shrug slightly. “No idea. But if I had to guess? I’d say that ‘great evil’ has a hoof in it.”

Letting out a light gasp, he pulls away to look up at me. “D-do you really think so?”

“I guess so, remember?” I give him a small, self-satisfied smirk. “I hardly think it’s a stretch to connect the two things. After all, this strange malaise of theirs did only start when they got close to it.”

He looks away, chewing his lip. “M-maybe I should ask the ponies about it.”

“I doubt they’d tell you,” I hum. “I’m sure the Princes forbade them to speak on the root of their issue. No doubt to maintain the illusion of their strength to their underlings.”

Zelac fixes me with a frown, and there was an oddly unreadable look in his eyes. “You really don’t like the Princes, do you?”

This time, I smile properly. “It’s more accurate to say that I hate them.”

“You almost sound like a Zhaaneph, sir.”

“Those idiots get a lot wrong, and I’m sure you can attest to much of that.” A single chuckle. “But on the Princes, I do tend to agree with them, yes.”

He looks away, somewhat uncomfortable with my admission. “Hate is an ugly thing, sir.”

“I live an ugly life,” I retort with a smirk. “But at least it’s always been my life.”

I see a flash of something in his eyes. Recollection? Pain? Regret? Seems those last few words touched a nerve with him. But as quickly as it came, it vanishes.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” he murmurs.

“Fine by me,” I exhale, giving him a more suggestive smirk. “Politics always makes for poor bedroom conversation, after all.”

“It’s bad for most conversation,” he huffs, not receptive to me this time.

“Then let’s keep it to a minimum, shall—?”

All of a sudden, I feel the ship’s momentum begin to shift and slow, briefly putting the two of us off-balance. Oh gods, what’s happening now?

“Oh!” Zelac lights up with realization. “W-we must be at that Storm Island place!”

“I’m sorry, ‘Storm Island’?”

“Oh, uhm, th-the ponies told me we’d be there this morning.” He lets out a sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of his head. “I, er, p-probably should have told you that earlier.”

“The warning would have been nice, Zelac.” His ears wilt slightly at my unamused tone. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“I-I only know that, er, s-some evil creature called the ‘Storm King’ used to run the place, a-and that the ponies and hippogriffs use it as their base now. Th-they’re getting more help here. Or, er, s-so I heard.”

“I wonder what the theme of this place is,” I deadpan.

ka-CLANK
ka-CLANK

The ship’s momentum comes to a complete stop, in time with hearing and feeling whatever the hells just made those noises. Some kind of docking mechanism, I assume? I can’t imagine a sky ship would have an easy time staying stable in the air, let alone at the heights it operates at. That would rather preclude using the simple ropes that sea ships did. Gods, I can’t believe that’s a distinction I have to make now.

Well, I suppose there’s only one way to find out what’s going on. Emboldened by my newfound energy, I give my neck a small crack and head to the door.

“S-sir?” Zelac squeaks. “Where are you going?”

“I’m seeing what the hells is going on, what else?” I answer, looking back at him with a raised eyebrow. “Are you coming or not?”

He hums with worry, but is quick to follow me out of the door. He’s also quick to pick his sorcerous neck ring back up and put it on, but I have to remind him to keep at least a metre of distance from me while he has it. It hurts him to hear, but he complies all the same. In no time at all, we are back above deck.

My initial assumption about the sky ship’s docking was, as it turns out, completely correct: there was a pair of enormous metal clamps fastened to the ship’s starboard side, keeping it in place. A covered metal drawbridge was extended onto the ship as well, between the clamps. I could see ponies, zebras, and some of the avians making their way across that bridge, with Zakurai and that Twilight Sparkle pony leading the way. But I stop in my tracks when I finally see what it is they’re crossing over towards.

Towers. The largest, tallest towers I’ve ever seen in my life, risen from a water-filled caldera in the middle of the vast ocean, with most of said towers painted over in lighter colours and flying the banners of both Equestria and what I could only assume was the nation of those ‘hippogriffs’ as well. I knew they were painted over, because there were a good number of these interconnected towers that were still in their original black. And their harsh, spiky, and angular designs struck me as something a cruelly intelligent hyena would come up with as a weapon or a torture implement: not something a peace-loving gaggle of equines would conceive of.

What struck me the most, however, was how familiar the design language was. I didn’t know why it was familiar at first, until my eyes went to one of the larger towers. On it was a massive metal emblem that I instantly recognized: twin blue lightning bolts. The same design as on the airships that fled over Farasi!

This was the base of those foreigners!

And this ‘Storm King’, logically, would have to be their leader. But most pressing—and haunting—was how I distinctly remembered this exact same iconography on the alien’s enormous sky ship from that horrifying dream with the blue pony royal. I wonder...

“Zelac?” My sudden question breaks him out of his shocked staring with a small jump. “How much, precisely, did you hear about this... ‘Storm Island’? Or this ‘Storm King’ of theirs, for that matter?”

“Wha...? E-er, I... I didn’t think y-you’d be, well, i-interested.”

“Well, I am. What do you know?”

“N-nothing, really.” He rubs the back of his neck. “J-just something about Prince Zabraxas chasing that King and his forces out of Zebrica. Th-that’s it. He, er, d-didn’t elaborate when the ponies asked. Buh-b-but they did tell me that he was defeated, i-if that helps. A-and that the ponies and hippogriffs fought his forces for this island. A-and won.”

“I see,” I hum. “Thank you.”

So it is what I thought! What a strange turn of events. Clearly, that Storm King and the alien are connected somehow. I’m not sure how, exactly, and I doubt I’ll figure out the particulars until either my next dream, or a lucky communiqué with those ponies. Whichever came first.

And of course, just as I have that thought, I hear the voices of said ponies from behind me. Turning my head, I see their entire group, sans princess, trotting into view, catching sight of Zelac and greeting him. He immediately greets them back—though not without some uncharacteristic trepidation, I notice—and rattles off to them about the island. They seem fairly surprised by it as well, as if it were also their first time seeing it.

Tch. I knew I’d have to speak to them today, but I'd hoped it wouldn't be so soon. Hopefully, their little discussion won’t shift to me any time soon: the more time I had to develop my strategies for our interactions, the better.

Turning back to the island’s sights, I let the displays serve as an idle distraction while I develop said strategies. Beyond just the towers, there was a large quantity of winged ponies and those hippogriffs flying all around, each clad in armour and carrying weapons. Befitting of a forward operating base. There were a good number of sky ships docked on these towers as well, I noticed. Their designs were unfamiliar to me, but the banners they were flying suggested they were the product of hippogriff design. Curious. I wonder if any of them will play escort to this ship? If I were in charge of guarding a great evil possessing the Gift, I would certainly want such an escort. As a start.

I exhale through my nose at the thought of that Anonymous. If nothing else, this sight gave me a great deal of information to placate him with over the coming days, so long as I was smart about how I divulged it.

“Captain Sky Walker, commander of Her Majesty’s air forces,” the large, well-decorated hippogriff introduced to Zakurai, shaking his hoof. “It is good to meet you, your majesty.”

“Likewise,” he replies with a genuine smile.

“And you as well, Princess Twilight,” the white-coated and light blue-maned captain says to the smiling royal in question. “I take it you wish to get things underway as soon as possible?”

“Indeed we do,” Zakurai answers. “The situation, unfortunately, has deteriorated, and we don’t have the luxury of time.”

The captain’s features fell at his words, even moreso as the two explained the state of Anonymous’s statue and his preying on the Princes in their dreams.

“That bastard put my home to the torch, forced us to hide under the water,” Captain Walker glowered. “It infuriates me to know that his violence continues, even after being locked in stone.”

“He’ll be locked in more than stone by the time we’re through,” Zakurai offers. “I assure you, he will not stop us from carrying out our duty.”

“I’m pleased to hear that, your majesty. My ships will be ready in but a moment. Have your forces resupply however they’ll need, and I’ll send word once we’re ready.”

“Thank you, captain.”

Captain Walker took off immediately, as did his guards, leaving the crew and guards to resupply in just the way he had suggested. Among the list of things they picked up was something altogether new to both species of royalty: a metallic box with lights, knobs, and buttons on it, described by the tower’s suppliers as a ‘radio’. Twilight had only heard of these devices before, but it was entirely new to Zakurai, who was quick to press one of the island’s soldiers for more details. To their surprise, it was a completely non-magical means of speaking over long distances, and used only electricity to operate. The storm beasts had apparently invented the device, but their inner workings were so complex that nopony and nogriff had been able to successfully reverse-engineer the device yet: the radios they had at the island, and from salvaged Storm Remnant vessels, were all they had, but were at least plentiful enough to be standard issue on all hippogriff airships at the island.

Indeed, Zakurai was beyond impressed with the functionality when, upon testing it for himself, he was greeted by Captain Walker’s voice on the other end, announcing his readiness to them from his own vessel.

“The wonders never truly cease on this side of the world, do they?” Zakurai laughs to himself.

“I-I’ve heard of these things before,” Twilight admits, quite impressed herself. “But seeing one in pony is... really something else.”

“They’re even better for tracking down the Remnants,” came an all too familiar voice for Twilight and her friends. “They love to use them to coordinate their ships in the storms.”

Both heads whipped around to the smooth and commanding female voice that had just spoken up. It’s source did not keep them in suspense for long. Walking out from a shadowed hallway was the mare Twilight was equal parts happy and afraid to see again.

Tempest Shadow.

She retained her pseudonym, despite everything, only using her real name in private, trusted company. And she remained clad in the armour the Storm King had issued her, but with the colour scheme and iconography on the flank plates changed to reflect her allegiance to Equestria, bearing a weathered golden look that was worn in enough places to reveal the black metal underneath. All that, overlaid atop the same black, weatherproof bodysuit she wore over her coat. Only, she had a new addition to her ensemble as well: a dark grey scarf around her neck, as if the opposing image of the light blue scarf worn by Zakurai.

“Is that so?” said Prince replies. “Well, I’m certainly glad to hear that the forces of evil are being handled so effectively, miss...?”

“Tempest. Tempest Shadow,” she curtly introduces to the zebra, nodding to Twilight next. “Twilight.”

“It’s good to see you again,” she replies, her smile small yet genuine.

“So.” There was no mistaking the sad untertone in Tempest’s voice. “It’s finally happening?”

Twilight’s ears fell. “It... yes. It is.”

A small, saddened exhale followed from Tempest, along with a brief closing of her eyes. “I see.” A moment of silence passed before she spoke again. “I want to see him again. One last time.”

Twilight didn’t have the heart to refuse her. “Of course,” she assures with a small nod.

“Am I... missing something here?” Zakurai asks. “I gather that this ‘him’ is Anonymous. Do you know him, miss Tempest?”

“Yes,” she replied, starting on her walk towards their airship. “Very well.”

Zakurai flashes Twilight a concerned look. She replies with an apologetic look of her own, silently asking him to understand as the two follow after the mare in question.

“I sssssee no reassssson to be more lenient with you, insssssect,” came Strife’s threatening voice from the console’s speaker.

“Whoa-whoa-w-wait a minute, boss!” the mercenary pleaded. “I-it wasn’t our fault! Those stupid ponies, they—!”

“If they were sssssoo ssssstupid, you would have no isssssue disssssposssssing of them. I hired you, becaussssse you were meant to be the bessssst. Yet you have done nothing but disssssappoint me. And you know the penalty for disssssappointing me.”

“No! Nooo-nononono wait! Wait wait wait—!”

The mercenary’s voice gave way to screams as he was summarily punished, his voice fading out as he fell. Strife had no doubt employed the chute to drop them into the ocean, and into certain death.

“Let thisssss be your reminder to perform the dutiesssss I have paid you all for!” Strife barked. “Dessssstroy the Equessssstrian fleets! Now!”

The sounds of mercenaries hastily and fearfully agreeing dominated the soundscape, as did the sounds of their footfalls clearing out of Strife’s meeting chamber. The chamber fell silent, and Cid only paid attention to the audio feed for a few more moments before reducing the volume and moving to another speaker, turning it’s volume up and switching to a different audio feed.

Things had been... difficult since the loss of his master, to put things mildly. Cid and the other named beasts had not anticipated the swift reprisal from both the Equestrians and the hippogriffs, and it was a shock to all when the island fell to them, forcing them to retreat across the ocean, far to the east. The aptly renamed Storm Remnant forces had little choice but to retreat to the raging and aptly named Eternal Storm—their former hiding place before the Storm King’s rise—forced to live aboard their warships and only occasionally setting down onto the rocky, windswept isles within the Storm for maintenance and repair.

Worst of all, the adversity of the sudden eviction from the island had brought out actual leadership qualities in Strife. Had he only ruled with an iron fist over the beasts, Cid would have had little issue continuing to manipulate him. Unfortunately, he made the pragmatic decision to collaborate with mercenaries, pirates, and marauder forces from across the seaboard, giving them access to airship technology and good weapons in exchange for their loyalty and promises of plunder. Those groups did not cleave to Cid’s subtle manipulations, often running roughshod over the plans he had laid; they were loyal to Strife, and only Strife, and Cid had little recourse for correcting that.

While these new forces were undeniably effective, they were almost all comprised of anthropomorphic creatures, and near-universally fit the criteria of what his master oddly referred to as ‘furries’. Cid himself had little issue with their species, but he knew his master’s boiling hatred for their kind, as strange as it may be, would not suffer their presence upon his return. As it stood though, their numbers had recently begun to exceed those of the beasts, so arranging for their removal was, unfortunately, not an option: not without the kind of unacceptable losses that would put the entire force into grave jeopardy. That was not even accounting for the hippogriff-developed warships that patrolled the skies with Equestrian aid aboard—the very subject of Strife’s discussion from before—nor the turncoat Tempest Shadow that routinely led skirmishes into the Eternal Storm, bringing down great numbers of Remnant ships with disturbing efficiency.

Things were not going well, to put it mildly. Far from the standard that his master had set for him, to say nothing of his own standards. But Cid had no time to wallow in shame: all he could do was continue his work, and strive to do better wherever and whenever he could.

Interrupting his thoughts, however, was the distant, panicked shouting of Wedge from the corridors behind him, calling for Cid’s attention. Odd: Wedge usually never panics like this. Lowering the volume of his speakers, he stands from his seat and turns around, waiting for Wedge to arrive at the bridge and giving him his undivided attention.

When Wedge finally arrives, panting and sweating, his words send a chill through Cid.

Their master’s body had been moved from Equestria.

Cid immediately calmed the beast down and demanded to know everything, and Wedge was more than forthcoming with the details, with many nearby loyal beasts pausing all their work to listen in. The airship of the former pirate Celaeno had arrived in Equestria, carrying zebras of all things. They made contact with the ponies, and had taken the statue of their master on board, leaving the same way they had come.

The significance of the zebras being involved was not lost on Cid: he knew all too well, as his master did, that their Four Princes possessed the same powers his master did. The implications of that were simple to infer: not only did they likely possess a means to contain cyphers, as they no doubt informed the Equestrians, but there was every likelihood that one or more of those very Princes was aboard that ship, personally involved in the transportation of their master’s statue. Combined with the knowledge that the Equestrian bearers of the Elements of Harmony were reported to be aboard as well? It painted a bleak picture.

But one thing was for certain: they needed to free their master. And they needed to free him now.

Cid immediately got to work, ordering the helmsman of the overseer airship to plot a course for their master’s prison ship at full speed before returning to his communications console, placing as many calls as he could. Creating a false narrative about a royal treasure barge inbound for Zebrica, and relaying it to as many suggestible ears as he could; he knew the anthropomorphic creatures would never be able to resist such a tempting target. All the while, Wedge placed a call to his distant compatriot, Biggs, explaining the situation to him and enlisting his help. Every other loyal beast aboard the overseer airship worked with a newfound zeal, completely committed to the goal now before them.

It did not matter how many renegade or disloyal creatures were lost in the battle; if anything, that was a tertiary benefit. The only thing that mattered was the freedom of their master, now, before he would be forever lost to them.

When You Were Young

I look on at the the steady stream of pony and zebra guards carrying supplies across the bridge from the tower: generic supply crates, barrels of more liquid fuel, things to that effect. There was quite a large quantity of that liquid fuel being rolled over: no doubt to keep the vessel going for both it’s trip into Zebrica and it’s return, since it was highly unlikely they’d be able to source the strange substance back in my homeland.

All the while, those pony mares and Zelac continued talking, mostly about the island. Zelac seemed to be asking questions more to sate my curiosity rather than his, inquiring mostly about this island, it’s former occupants, and of course, that Storm King figure who laid a prior claim to it. While they didn’t know much about the island, they did know a great deal about the beasts and said King. This gave them an ample segue into speaking on his invasion of their land.

The moment they mentioned that Anonymous creature spearheading the invasion was the moment I turned to the group and gave them my undivided attention.

True to what little I witnessed from their flight over Farasi, their forces attacked Canterlot with a great armada of sky ships—or airships, according to them—filled to the brim with those hulking bipedal creatures they interchangeably referred to as storm beasts, storm creatures, or any such synonyms they have on hoof for ‘monster’, the true name of their species apparently unknown to them. Either way, said beasts were led by two individuals: the aforementioned Anonymous, which they focused primarily on, and a pony, of all things, calling herself Tempest Shadow.

Hah. A name that over-corrects the laughably cutesy names of ponykind, wrapping solidly back around to being ridiculous again. Still, the way they spoke of her was curious: she was—and presumably, still is—a very dangerous pony, but there was a softness to their words about her, suggesting they may have actually befriended the pony after all was said and done. I’ll admit, that level of forgiveness was somewhat unbelievable to me: any given Zebrican faction would have sentenced any such traitor to death for such a move. And that undertone of forgiveness didn’t escape Zelac’s notice either, though he certainly seemed to resonate with the idea. Befitting of his naïveté, I suppose.

Of course, it didn’t take long for the subject to shift back to Anonymous: the primary antagonist of the attack on their lands. He was chiefly responsible for hunting them down and cornering them at every turn, but interestingly enough, they weren’t making mention of him utilizing his Gift. Of course, nozebra and nopony have actually said that he has the Gift, and it’s highly likely they’re keeping that fact concealed at the Princes’ request. But from the way the group was still naturally telling their story, it sincerely sounded like he deliberately concealed his Gift, relying instead on physical prowess and superior tactics to outfox the ponies.

That was... concerning, to put it lightly. He had every right to use his power, as the Princes so flagrantly did, and yet he chose to conceal it until it was tactically sound to no longer do so. Which means he’s a very competent tactician at the very least, and is likely an excellent strategist on top of that. Elysium help me, do I even want to know what he’s currently planning?

I see that Rarity mare looking at me from the corner of her eye, no doubt studying my expression to gauge my interest and identify any tells. My expression, while openly intrigued, was otherwise neutral, with no tells forthcoming for her to study. Though she does look away with a small, apologetic nod when I look back at her with a questioning expression: no doubt trying her best to appear polite. Still, she was hardly the first to notice my attentiveness: the others were cluing in to my investment as well.

The ponies begin to talk about a ‘Mt. Aris’, the homeland of those hippogriffs, and how Anonymous had laid waste to it long before turning to Equestria. More specifically, they talk about how they tried to enlist their aid, not knowing they had fled their ruined capitol and sought safety under the sea. Just as they begin to explain just how in the hells a race of feathered avians can shelter under the sea, however, my attention is rudely yet silently wrested from the discussion.

That prickling, tingling sensation on the back of my neck makes it’s return: invoked once again by the Princes. What takes me thoroughly aback, however, is what else I feel: unlike all the other times, the sensation was now reverberating between my upper spine and my heart. The similarity to the sensation in my dream only registers for a split second before it is fully confirmed.

Warning. Unexpected visitor arriving to see captive statue. Pony, female, acquaintance of Twilight Sparkle.

A dead ringer. This was like that dream communication, and my prior theory on this sensation was right! But this sensation was different: it was much richer, and markedly more detailed, as evidenced by the genuine tonality and inflection present in the ‘voice’. It was even ‘spoken’ in the voice of the communicator, giving the ‘speaker’ away as Zakurai!

Concealing my utter shock at this new development is challenging, but is made far easier when not even a second later, that pink mare jumps high into the air with an enormous gasp, her mane appearing to briefly expand. When she hits the ground, she begins twitching and moving around in erratic, random patterns, as if possessed by something.

(“Uh-oh,”) that Applejack speaks up. (“What’s the forecast this time, Pinkie?”)

I do not like whatever is happening. And the silent response from Zabraxas does not improve things.

Negative. Turn her away, came Zabraxas’s silent, frustrated response. No visitors under any condition. You know this.

(“This one’s a doOoOoOoOozy!”) the pink one manages to get out, caught in the throes of gods-only-knows whatever mental illness is gripping her.

Not my decision, Zakurai replies. Made by Twilight Sparkle.

(“New...”)

Do not care. Visitation is not permitted. If she attempts to visit, I will not allow it.

(“Old...”)

Reconsider. Zakurai felt nervous, cornered. Mare appears dangerous. Unlikely to accept denial.

(“Friend...!)

In an instant, the pink mare’s bizarre twitching ceases, and the gasp she emits this time is a voluntary, overjoyed one.

Repeat. If she attempts to visit, I will not allow it.

(“‘New old friend’?”) Rainbow Dash asks, her face twisting into realization a moment later. (“Wai-wai-wait, you don’t mean...?!”)

As soon as she said that, my ears pivot back towards the sounds of metallic hoofsteps on the connecting bridge. My head is the first to turn, and the others follow suit, gasping and exclaiming with surprise and familiarity at the... unusual sight before me.

A new pony was crossing over towards the ship, but one very unlike the others that I’ve seen so far. The armoured mare on approach was a darker, more subdued purple colour, and her shorter tail and mohawk-styled mane wouldn’t be out of place on a zebra at all, light purple colour notwithstanding. Her muscular physique was indicative of a great deal of combat training, but curiously, despite being a sorcerer, her horn was actually broken. Everything about this new mare screamed ‘danger’, and were she a zebra, she could easily pass as a Zhaanephi Templeguard: A Shimmering Path Templeguard, at that.

I immediately make the connection upon seeing her: this had to be that ‘Tempest Shadow’ mare they were talking about. And following right behind her was Zakurai and that Twilight Sparkle, the latter of which seemed legitimately nervous about her. Indeed, the other heroic ponies nearby seemed quite taken aback by her presence.

“Wh-who is that?” Zelac stammers.

(“Tempie!”) exclaims Pinkie Pie, jumping high into the air and waving her legs to get her attention.

Twilight Sparkle was visibly relieved to see her friends, and the pace of that Tempest mare slowed upon seeing them as well, giving them ample opportunity to flock towards her, greeting and questioning her in equal, amicable measure. I, however, keep my distance, continuing to observe her.

The glow in Zakurai’s eyes terminate, along with part of the sensation, and he clears his throat to get the dangerous mare’s attention. (“Miss Tempest, I’m afraid that it won’t be possible for you to visit our captive.”)

Credit where it’s due, that mare is very good at intimidation: she had the perfect slow turning rate of her head, combined with just the right lidding of her eyes. And her low, smooth, and distinctly sensual voice really completed it.

(“And why, exactly, would that be?”)

(“My compatriot will simply not permit it.”) Nonplussed by her intimidation, he furrows his brow a bit. (“And frankly, given the suddenness of this visit, I’m not sure I would permit it, either.”)

Unknowing or uncaring of who she was speaking to, she simply resumed her course to enter the ship’s interior, brushing past the other mares. (“I don’t recall needing your permission.”)

(“Tempest, wait!”) Twilight called out, but to no avail.

(“Twilight,”) Zakurai warned.

His meaning was clear: he wanted her to stop that Tempest mare before...

Before things came to blows.

A sinister smirk splits across my face as the realization dawns on me.

“Oh, I have to see this,” I mutter, unable to keep the smile off my face as I immediately step forward.

“S-sir?!” a nervous Zelac bleated, falling in with me. I hadn’t realized he stayed behind. “I-I don’t think we should—”

“Oh, I think we should,” I interrupt, my tone thick with barely restrained anticipation.

Outside of a nervous little whine, he says nothing else as I follow after that Tempest mare at a safe distance. Or rather, her friend group, themselves trailing after her with obvious concern for their friend. She didn’t appear to need any directions, finding her way towards the heavily guarded cargo bay with no issue. As expected, the guards let the group through, though I detect some visible nervousness on the pony guards’ faces when they see their dangerous guest. As expected, they deny entrance to me and Zelac, but I hardly cared: I could see and hear them from this distance regardless. Just being a fly on the wall for this exchange was good enough for me.

Already, I’m treated to an incredible sight: that Tempest mare and Zabraxas glaring at one another, their noses almost touching. Sadly, they were too far away for Zelac’s translating sorcery to discern the mare’s words, but the low, threatening, even faintly suggestive tone she took said more than enough. Zabraxas, as expected, flatly denies her request to see the statue, ordering her to turn away. He was either incapable of picking up on the danger she represented, or was indifferent to it. Given what I’ve seen, it’s likely the latter.

The friend group tries to defuse the situation, along with Zakurai. Nothing, however, makes them budge. Indeed, things get more tense between the two opposing forces as time goes on. I’m certain that she was threatening him at this point, if Zakurai’s refusal to translate is anything to go by. Still, Zabraxas remains immobile, yet becomes increasingly frustrated. Things worsen to the point where, save for the other members of royalty, they’re forced to back away as the mare’s broken horn begins to fizzle and arc with raw, sorcerous power, and the floor around Zabraxas begins to freeze over from his Gift’s power in response. I stood there with a full, wicked smile, eagerly waiting for the fighting to start.

Unfortunately, I knew it was not to be the second I saw the look that Twilight Sparkle and Zakurai shared: that flat, frustrated expression that epitomized just how done they were with this. As Twilight left to begin unlocking the enclosure, Zakurai tossed his scarf aside and finally allowed himself to express his anger and frustration in full as he stomped towards the two like a furious parent. Only, furious parents don’t normally have their manes and tails ignite into raging red flames.

“That is enough!” he roars with surprising intensity, every syllable and change in volume creating a corresponding blast of hot air.

“Do not interfere,” Zabraxas replies. “This matter—”

He was cut off by Zakurai’s flaming hoof coming down hard onto his withers: the only thing that made the larger Prince look his way.

“Stand. Down.” It’s not uncommon for zebras to become frightening when they’re pushed too hard. Somehow, Zakurai was more frightening than Zabraxas in this moment. “Now.”

I have to hoof it to that mare: she certainly had more stones than most stallions, choosing this moment to try and move past the two while they were having their little moment. Zakurai, however, was having none of it: he immediately blocked her path with a flame-covered foreleg, and began accosting her in their language as well. Yet whatever he was saying didn’t faze her in the slightest. The words of the Princess, on the other hoof, very much did, revealing a softer and more emotionally compromised side to this pony. In the end, she actually tendered an apology to the two, which Zakurai accepted. Zabraxas, however, continued to treat concession as unspeakable blasphemy, but expressed it in a more... silent manner.

I will not apologize for protecting our objective. He glared down at Zakurai with genuine anger. The Elders will know of your actions today.

Yes. I am sure they will love to hear that you came close to compromising the mission on more than three separate occasions now. Would you like to make it a fourth, or are you quite finished disrespecting the Third Line today?

Holy shit. I did not expect that kind of backchat from Zakurai of all zebras. And I don’t think I’ve seen Zabraxas quite this angry before, either.

This mission— he tried to begin with a low, threatening tone.

Is a cooperative effort. Not a sole effort. No matter how much you try to make it one. Whether you like it or not, compromise comes as a matter of course in such endeavours. He snorts with frustration, some of his flame receding. Yes, that mare should not have come in unannounced like this. That frustrated me as well. And yes, she should never have threatened you so. But you are a Prince. It is your duty to be above such things.

The dangerous mare’s sombre tone drew the Princes’ attention. She was looking off at the unlocked yet unopened cage of the statue as she spoke. Unable to understand her words, I instead study her emotions and actions. The statue seemed to cause her a great deal of turmoil, as every time I heard the phrase ‘Anonymous’ in their language, I could hear the subtle hitching of her words and tone. It was as if she were speaking of a deceased friend or a loved one, and—

The realization hits me like a sun-bleached brick.

No.

This mare, did she... care for that Anonymous creature? Did she love him?

Now I couldn’t not see the obvious signs of it in her voice, expression, and motions. And the metal of her armour was exposed in places: the same metal I saw in the armour of those bipedal creatures, the plating of their sky ships, and making up the towers on this very isle! Damn it, I was too absorbed by the idea of her fighting Zabraxas; I should have noticed such an obvious detail sooner! But then, what does that make her? She was Anonymous’s ally at one point, obviously, but was there more to it? Was she his lover? Mate, even?

I clamp down on those thoughts, placing them high on the list of questions to ask the ponies later. But already, this was a massive piece of useful information regarding that Anonymous, one that almost begged to be followed up on.

Sadly, the events in the cargo bay continued to trend downhill in terms of entertaining volatility: the mare didn’t linger for long once the door to the statue was opened, though both Princes reeled a bit at the unleashed presence of Anonymous. Seems whatever they’re using to contain him mutes his presence somehow, which explains why it lessened when he was loaded aboard. Fortunately, his muted presence remained constant for me, so there was nothing for me to suppress a reaction to. She needed only about half a minute to say what she needed to, at which point the statue’s containment was restored. As she left, she even apologized to Zabraxas once more. I make sure to step well out of her way as she returns this way, with the rest of her friends in tow. The Princes remain behind in the cargo bay, their powers now fully receded, silent communication and all.

“Oh thank goodness,” Zelac exhales at last, falling back onto his rump. “I’m so happy things didn’t turn ugly.”

I snort. “I’m not.”

Zakurai makes to leave the cargo bay next, but pauses for a moment, a pang of guilt on his face. Shortly after, he looks back at Zabraxas, reestablishing his silent communication. I apologize for insulting you earlier.

I respect your diplomatic abilities, Zakurai, Zabraxas replies, taking up his post once again. They have always benefited Zebrica. My contention is that you confuse conciliation with diplomacy in matters relating to these ponies.

Zakurai looks forward again, sighing through his nose. After these events, I fear you may be right.

I do not doubt the intentions of these Element Bearers. Beyond small interpersonal squabbles with me, they have never acted to compromise the containment of Anonymous. That Tempest Shadow mare used the Element Bearers to brazenly compromise his containment, all to fulfill a selfish, personal goal.

She did, he agreed, his brow furrowing with anger. That was not acceptable. And under normal circumstances, I would have denied her access alongside you. I do not intend to let this stand as a precedent.

“H-hey, let’s go find the ponies,” Zelac murmurs.

“Not yet,” I quietly reply, gesturing for him to wait. “I’ve a strange feeling about this. I want to see where Zakurai is going next.” As good an excuse as any to continue my eavesdropping. I never expected to realize the ability to pry into their private, Princely communications, but already it was proving to be an extremely useful tool.

I will trust your judgment on how to resolve the issue. For my part, I will not allow any further unscheduled access until our arrival at the Quaternary Palace. I will use deadly force to enforce this restriction, if I must.

I will be sure to inform our allies. Zakurai’s brow rises again, this time in thought, followed moments later by his eyes lighting up with an idea of some kind. “Allies...” he murmurs out loud, a small smile developing on his face at whatever he’s just thought of. Thank you for the talk, Zabraxas.

With that, all silent communication was cut off, and Zakurai trotted forth, leaving the cargo bay properly. He doesn’t give us more than a passing glance as he takes the path the ponies had left through.

“I thought he might try to catch up with them,” I hum, setting off after him at a fair distance.

“W-wonder what he’s going to say to them?” Zelac murmurs, falling in nearby, always minding his distance.

“If I had to guess? I don’t think that strange pony’s arrival sat very well with him.”

And that only makes me curious about how his little talk with them will go, especially with that furious, literally fiery outburst of his fresh in my mind. Fool’s hope though it may be, I did hold onto hope that things might turn violent after all.

Still, while I expected our destination to be the Quaternary Palace, ‘hearing’ it confirmed was more than a little disquieting. I’ll need to think of a way to escape before I get there.

Tempest continued to calm herself, leaning against the ship’s railing as she took slow, controlled breaths through her nose, exhaling through her mouth. Applejack and Fluttershy’s presences beside her did little to help her in that regard, though goodness knows they were trying,

“I’m sorry,” she softly admitted again, still visibly upset.

“Tempest, you can’t do that!” Twilight exclaimed, trying to be both sensitive and chastising at the same time. “I know that he meant a lot to you, but—”

The sound of heavy hooffalls from behind interrupted her, and Twilight’s ears fell a bit when she heard Zakurai clearing his throat moments later. Her stomach sank when she turned to see his frustrated frown and angry glare, fixed firmly ahead at Tempest. Seeing him genuinely angry was a shock unto itself, as was the way he brushed past her to reach the subject of his ire.

“I am going to make this as clear as I can, miss Tempest.” His tone was like that of an angry father, and even Tempest wasn’t quite prepared for how intense he was, especially as he got right into her face, the two mares at her side quickly moving away. “What you just did was an unconscionable breach of not only our security, but of your friends’ trust. My compatriot had every right to deny you access to that statue, and had you not manipulated the princess into helping you, I’d have had no compunctions about denying you alongside him. And had you necessitated it, I would have used force to remove you.”

Tempest couldn’t get a word in edgewise: he simply spoke over her attempt to do so, firmly and authoritatively.

“If you, or any other, ever tries something like that again, my compatriot and I will consider you an enemy. And will use any means at our disposal to neutralize the threat you may pose to our mission, miss Tempest.” Parts of his mane and tail briefly ignite with red flame, as if to punctuate his point. “Is that understood?”

Guilt was the predominant emotion on Tempest’s face, warring with surprise, indignation, and sadness. She said nothing for a while, her mouth hanging slightly open. But after a few moments of stunned silence, she took a short, calming breath before answering.

“Yes,” she responds softly. “I’m... sorry. I’d have done the same thing in your position.”

Zakurai says nothing for a while, opting to study her expression. Satisfied with what he saw, the pressure of his power begins to abate, and a small smile plays at his lips. “If you wish to make amends, there is something I’d like you to do for us.”

Twilight blinked in surprise, as did Tempest.

“I’m sure you know already, but that hippogriff captain Sky Walker intends to escort us across the sea. I want you to lend us your airships and forces as an additional escort.”

Their surprise manifested further in their expressions.

“You want my help?” she softly replied, understandably in disbelief. “After what I just did?”

“It’s because of what you did that I’m asking.” He gives her a cheeky smile. “If you’ve the stones to look a Prince in the eye without backing down, and if you’re even half as good at vanquishing the evils out at sea as you claim, then I’m positive you will be of great aid to us on this stretch of our mission.”

Twilight stood there, silently impressed with Zakurai. He’d not only defused the situation, but turned it around to their benefit.

“I...” Tempest takes a moment to compose herself. “My ships only just came back for repairs. They’re just not ready right now.”

“When they are ready then, can I count on you to be there to assist us?” he presses, unbothered by the new information. “Just in case we are attacked out there?”

“You will be attacked out there,” she states with complete certainty. “There’s no way the Storm Remnant won’t know that you’re moving their old leader.”

“All the more reason, then, to ask for your aid. Will you?”

She briefly exhales through her nose. “Fine. Fine, I’ll help you.”

“Excellent!” Zakurai beams. He extends his hoof out, intent on bumping it with hers. Still somewhat flustered, she pauses to sigh with slight exasperation through her nose again before sealing the agreement with the hoof bump.

“I’ll need to go and speed things along,” Tempest says, pulling away and beginning to walk back towards the drawbridge. “See if I can’t bring two days of service down to just one.”

“Of course,” Zakurai hummed. “Don’t let me keep you.”

“Wait,” Twilight calls out. “I-I still haven’t had the chance to talk to you.”

“Another time, Twilight,” she softly responds, pausing her walk to look back at her. “Right now, this is more important.”

Though there was obvious pain on her expression with regards to Anonymous, she was also determined to see her duty through in spite of it. She doesn’t wait for Twilight to muster up a reply, quickly taking her leave across the drawbridge.

Rainbow Dash let out the breath she was holding in. “Sheeeesh. Talk about tense!”

“Tell me about it,” Applejack added. “Ah thought fer sure things’d get physical back there.”

“Well I, for one, am beyond pleased that they didn’t,” Rarity hummed, her brow knitting with worry soon after. “Still, it can’t have been easy for her, knowing he is finally being... dealt with.”

“I think it’s about time I heard more about this strange pony,” Zakurai says next. “After all that, I believe I’m entitled to it.”

Twilight and her friends had no arguments there, and gave him the quick version of Tempest’s story: how she participated in the attack on Equestria, how she cared very deeply for Anonymous, how he tried in vain to restore her horn, and how Twilight and her friends had forgiven and reformed her.

It was that last part that truly took Zakurai by surprise. “You mean to tell me that you... forgave her? Just like that?”

Twilight nodded. “Everypony deserves a second chance. And she needed a friend.”

The sound of light sniffling from behind drew her attention. Turning to look at it’s source, she saw Zelac at a fair distance behind her, weeping gently at what she’d said. However, it was who was next to Zelac that really drew her attention: it was that zebra prisoner she’d seen with him when they first met.

The stallion was large, easily the same size as Shining Armour, but that was where the similarities ended. Though she didn’t quite understand what made every zebra’s sizes and stripe patterns different just yet, no species-specific knowledge was needed to see how muscular and well-built he was. His mane was, like Zakurai's, on the longer side for a stallion, and she had to admit that his facial structure was... somewhat attractive to look at. Twilight didn’t know if the marks on a zebra’s flank were comparable to a pony’s cutie mark—yet another thing she had to ask about—but his, like Zelac, the Princes, and Zecora before them all, was sufficiently abstract enough to make her unsure of it’s meaning, yet distinct from his fellows all the same.

What made her pause, however, was the look in that stallion’s bright, fiery yellow eyes. His gaze was hardened and guarded, studying everything as if it were an eminent threat to his life. Yet there was also a calmness to his eyes as well, and there was no mistaking the glint of a high and calculating intelligence deep within, either. But when their eyes briefly locked, she saw... something else in his gaze, too. Something odd, almost piercing, about the way he was looking at her, almost as if he were looking through her. It was something she couldn’t quite identify, but was unnerving and mysterious all the same.

Of course, Twilight wasn’t the only one to notice Zelac’s emotional display, and Fluttershy was quick to dart over to offer some comfort to the friendly zebra, who was quick to return the offered hug. All the while, the other zebra kept his distance from the ponies, continuing to be on his guard about what were, to him, the strange and potentially dangerous new equines.

Zakurai clears his throat, drawing Twilight’s attention back to him. “Well, if you’re certain that she’ll be a trustworthy ally, I’ll happily defer to you on that. I only hope she’s wrong about the possibility of an attack.”

“Me too,” Twilight answered. “But I don’t think she is.”

Zakurai hummed his agreement. “We’ll keep an eye out in any case. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d quite like to coordinate our departure with that Sky Walker fellow. I’ll return as soon as I’m able.”

“Of course. Let me know how it goes!”

Zakurai nodded and took his leave, leaving Twilight and her friends alone again with Zelac and his friend. Or at least, she assumed he was his friend. She’d find out in a moment!

All right, Twilight. Time to do what you do best!

Elysium help me, that princess is going to try and befriend me, isn’t she?

Tch. I know I’m supposed to be making their acquaintance, so her seeking me out should be a benefit. But there’s no helping my aversion to sorcerers. I still didn’t have a good read on this Equestrian royal, either: what she lacked in the sharp social awareness of her white-coated compatriot, she made up for with a wide-eyed and naïve curiosity. Both were almost certain to be problematic. I just don’t know to what extent yet.

I suppose this is what I get for overhearing their little ‘chat’ about that Tempest Shadow pony, isn’t it? Well, there’s no putting it off now. I’ll have to just grit and bear it.

(“So.”) The voice of that rainbow-maned mare was directed at me, and sure enough, she casually flew her way over towards me, seemingly more comfortable with her wings than she was with her hooves. (“You must be the guy Zelac’s been talking about.”)

“Oh!” Noticing the interaction, Zelac is quick to perk up and dart over towards me, minding his distance as he faces towards the other ponies. “E-everyzebra— er, no, everypony, th-this is my friend—”

“Zobachi,” I interrupt with a small nod of my head. “Charmed.”

Seems that Applejack has my measure from the very start, if that ongoing look of suspicion and wariness is anything to go by. Annoying, but workable. That Rainbow Dash seemed intrigued by me, however, and the pink mare of the group was trembling with barely restrained excitement. The others didn’t know what to make of me just yet, but the approaching pony royal was clearly intent on making my acquaintance and finding out either way.

(“I’m really sorry that we scared you when we first met,”) Twilight began, her seemingly legitimate sadness expressed with an order of magnitude more intensity by that Pinkie Pie mare off to the side.

Gods, what a ridiculous name that is.

“Every time a zebra has jumped at me like that,” I state calmly and with the smallest of smiles, “They’ve always had a knife in their teeth, and every intention to gut me with it.”

Interesting. Just about everypony reacted badly to that statement, spanning the gamut of covering their mouths, gasping with shock, and the yellow and pink ones especially became teary-eyed. Is the very idea of violence unpalatable to their people, or is it just these individuals? Hard to say at the moment.

I offer a small shrug. “So you can imagine how I felt when your companion”—my eyes flick towards the pink mare—“rushed at me like she did.”

(“I’msosorry!”) said mare exclaims, bursting out from her friend group and sobbing before me. The suddenness of the display makes my foreleg reflexively rise in defence, ready to strike if needed. (“I’mreallyreallyreallysorryaboutscaringyoubefore! Ididn’tknowthatzebrasdidn’tlikebeingsurprisedlikethat! IjustwantedtobefriendlyandmakeagoodimpressionbutI—”)

Forcing my defensive hoof to relax, I instead raise it towards her in a quieting gesture. It has the intended effect, the mare falling silent while still being visibly upset.

“Miss... Pinkie Pie, was it?” Sweet gods, I can’t believe I just said that with a straight face. “I am quite willing to let bygones be bygones.” A small smile. “Provided, of course, that there’s not a repeat occurrence.”

She perked up far too fast and far too strongly at those words, and that damn smile of hers was unnerving in it’s size alone. I could tell she wanted to spring at me for a hug, but was holding herself back, trembling in place and silently requesting permission. I see little reason to deny her, so I grant it with a small nod. In an instant, she rushed over and clasped me in a hug far stronger than a mare of her size should reasonably be able to provide, emitting a happy squeak all the while. She smelled faintly of baked goods and tooth-rotting sweetness.

(“Ohthankyouthankyouthankyou!”) she squealed, prancing in place on her hindlegs.

I didn’t have to endure the overly affectionate display for long, however: once she had her fill, she darted right back between her friends. That pony is... unnatural. And the looks of amusement on the others’ faces suggest they’re all too aware as well, and are used to her behaviour by now. Why that type of instability is tolerated in a national hero is beyond me.

(“I’d like to start over again, if that’s all right with you.”) Twilight Sparkle began approaching me, but her eyes lit up a bit in realization, causing her to stop in her tracks. (“Er, a-are you comfortable around magic?”)

“Not in the slightest,” I flatly state, shaking my head slightly. “In fact, I’d go so far as to say that it scares the absolute shit out of me.” A tiny smile. “That said, I appreciate being asked.”

She shuffles a little, unsure on how to proceed. (“I... was warned that most zebras didn’t like magic.”)

“Accurate.” My eyes dart briefly over towards Zelac. “Well, aside from our mutual outlier.”

His cheeks tint a bit and he laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his head. Cute. Less cute, however, was seeing that Rarity’s knowing little smile at the display out from the corner of my eye. Already picked up on our little relationship, has she?

Twilight Sparkle extends her foreleg towards me, as if reaching out for a hoof bump, but doesn’t move from where she’s standing. (“I hope your aversion won’t keep us from talking a bit more, mister Zobachi. I’d really like to get to know you better.”)

I raise an eyebrow, equal parts amused and bemused. “You really want to know more about me? The prolific and unrepentant criminal prodigy?”

(“W-well, yes!”) Hah. She’s trying not to look put off. Cute.

(“Did y’all really just call yerself a ‘criminal prodigy’?”) that Applejack deadpanned, raising her own eyebrow.

(“Applejack!”) Twilight Sparkle whisper-shouted at her, trying to keep things polite.

Unbothered by her remark, I simply look over at the orange mare with a smile. “When we had these accursed collars put on, Zabraxas read all of our criminal records out loud. It took him nearly ten minutes to read mine.” The smile morphs to a smirk at her unimpressed glare. “And that’s just the things they knew I had done.”

(“There some reason ‘ya sound so proud’a that fact?”)

“Crime is a profession where colts die young.” I give a small mock bow. “As you can see, I’m well on my way to my thirties, with every intention to die from old age.”

She doesn’t offer more than a small huff, now that she knows that shame doesn’t work on me. But that Twilight Sparkle is quick to clear her throat and interject again, trying her best to stay diplomatic.

(“Anyways!”) She re-extends her hoof towards me. (“I still really want to know more about you, mister Zobachi. Even if, well, like you say, you’ve got a bit of a rough past.”)

She doesn’t know the eighth of it. Regardless, I re-raise my eyebrow at her.

“Are you sure? We’re very different equines, from polar opposite worlds. You and your friends are likely to hate most things about me.”

She tries to give a wise smile, but I can see the naïveté in it, clear as day. (“I think you’d be surprised.”)

I emit a small hum before giving a light shrug. “As you wish.” My own foreleg extends, mirroring hers. “I still think you’re making a mistake, but I’ll humour you, your majesty.”

Evidently, that Applejack feels the same, if that look of hers is anything to go by. The other mares, for the moment, still remain undecided. Twilight Sparkle, happy with this small victory, slowly approaches at a non-threatening pace to let our extended hooves finally bump.

Part of me expected there to be some kind of sorcery in her hoof, and I was starting to tense in anticipation of that. I was very relieved to find that it was in fact just a normal hoof.

Well. So far, so good, I suppose. Once the others introduce themselves properly, I can start ingratiating myself with them. And from there, ply them for the information I'll need.